#wildfire marketing solutions

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

TEASER BLAST

We are excited to share a teaser from THEY SAY HE FLIES AT NIGHT by @amymatayo.author is releasing 10/3!

#PreOrderHere: https://amzn.to/42ovX8F

Everyone in Silver Bell, Arkansas has heard of Walter Lorry. Rumors have been circulating about the strange old man around town for years. He’s weird. Stooped and odd looking. Always keeps to himself and never speaks to anyone. At one time, he had a wife and kid, but no one has seen them in forever. Then there’s the matter of him sleeping on his front porch every night when there’s a perfectly good bed inside his house. Who in their right mind would do that?

But even the people of Silver Bell have to admit that Walter Lorry has beautiful penmanship—calligraphy so swirly and intricate you’ve never seen anything like it. They say dignitaries requested his work at some point in history. They say his work even hangs in museums around the world. They say he has money buried somewhere, maybe even next to his murdered family. They say a lot of things about Mr. Walter Lorry, it’s just that no one knows which things are true.

And which things are lies.

Leave it to Piper Moore—a newcomer who’s engaged to the son of town’s most prominent business owner—to find out. She’s heard the rumors, she’s seen his handwriting, and she wants Mr. Lorry to design one-of-a-kind wedding invitations just for her. After all, she’s used to getting her way, and she reasons that if his work was once good enough for Hollywood, then it’s good enough for her. Which is exactly what drives her to knock on his door, march inside the old man’s antique store, and convince him to do it.

She doesn’t expect his answer.

She isn’t prepared for his story to change everything she believes about love.

And she certainly wasn’t ready to learn all the reasons you should never, ever believe in small-town legends.

Influencers sign up here: https://forms.gle/axuFbGXtB7FGRkus8

#new book alert #coming soon #i love books #second chances #soulmates #amy matayo #need to read #read more romance #wildfire marketing solutions #books of instagram #bookstagrammer #need it now

[bookboleynreads]

Cover Reveal! Just Another Spark by Carly Phillips

Cover Reveal! Just Another Spark by Carly Phillips

JUST ANOTHER SPARKCarly PhillipsRelease Date: January 17A Short StoryHe’s a rock star wanted by millions.She’s a wife willing to fight for their love. Rock star Dash Kingston is finishing the last leg of his band’s U.S. tour. Exhausted and ready to be home, he can’t wait to see his girl. Time zones, show times, and the demands of his career have made married life harder than expected. Even…

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#add to your tbr #carly phillips #coming soon #Cover Reveal #just another spark #kingston family #novella #pre-order #rock star romance #the kingston family #wildfire marketing solutions

[nasa]

A Beginner’s Guide to Advanced Air Mobility

Soaring over traffic in an air taxi, receiving packages faster, and participating in a sustainable, safer mode of transportation: all could be possible with a revolutionary new type of air transportation system in development called Advanced Air Mobility (AAM).

AAM could include new aircraft developed by industry, called electric vertical takeoff and landing vehicles, or eVTOLs, for use in passenger, package, or cargo delivery. It may also include new places for these aircraft to take off and land called vertiports.

Our work in Advanced Air Mobility will transform the way people and goods will move through the skies. This includes using Advanced Air Mobility for public good missions such as disaster, medical, and wildfire response.

What is Advanced Air Mobility?

Our vision for Advanced Air Mobility is to map out a safe, accessible, and affordable new air transportation system alongside industry, community partners, and the Federal Aviation Administration.

Once developed, passengers and cargo will travel on-demand in innovative, automated aircraft called eVTOLs, across town, between neighboring cities, or to other locations typically accessed today by car.  

What are the benefits of Advanced Air Mobility?

The addition of Advanced Air Mobility will benefit the public in several ways: easier access for travelers between rural, suburban, and urban communities; rapid package delivery; reduced commute times; disaster response, and new solutions for medical transport of passengers and supplies.

What are the challenges associated with Advanced Air Mobility?

Various NASA simulation and flight testing efforts will study noise, automation, safety, vertiports, airspace development and operations, infrastructure, and ride quality, along with other focus areas like community integration.

These areas all need to be further researched before Advanced Air Mobility could be integrated into our skies. We’re helping emerging aviation markets navigate the creation of this new transportation system.

When will Advanced Air Mobility take off?

We provide various test results to the FAA to help with new policy and standards creation. We aim to give industry and the FAA recommendations for requirements to build a scalable Advanced Air Mobility system to help enable the industry to flourish by 2030.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#travel #sustainability #aircraft #NASA #aeronautics #aviation #flight #technology #transportation #tech #NationalDroneDay

[naturalswimmingspirit]

roz.j.johnson

Best parts of a spur-of-the-moment trip to Maui, Hawai’i👇 . 🏝️ Finding hidden gems just off the beaten path. @nickdonmoyer and I are both into using gaiamaps to find hidden gems 💎 with fewer folks. These ones did not disappoint, especially the dip in crystal clear waters 🏊‍♀️. . 🏄‍♀️ Never being short on adventure. From hidden waterfalls to surfing to hiking and snorkeling we didn’t sit still for long! We did manage to sneak in some surfing but next time I’d like to do more. Rentals are cheap and the water is so 👌. . 🏠 Randomly finding the best places to stay!!@haleakula was an awesome little farm and retreat with the best wholesome vibe 🐓 🌴 . The @howzithostel was clean and comfy and be fantastic if solo travelling. Plus they have a mango tree out back that’s bountiful 🥭 . . 🥑 Indulging in the local fare. We picked up so many beautiful fruits at roadside farm stands, fresh local fish at the market and coconuts galore. Because we had kitchens where we were staying, we cooked for ourselves, saved money and ate local. . 🔥 Although the devastation in Lahaina is evident from the wildfire earlier this year, the recovery seems to be on track for post-catastrophic fire. From our experience, the island community is more than happy to continue to welcome tourism though housing of those displaced seems to be the biggest issue. An issue that seems to have a solution right next door in all the massive resorts but evidently is not what’s going on. Lahaina has a long way to go to rebuild, as do many communities devastated by wildfire and my heart goes out to them. . 💦 Even though November is thier slow season with cooler temps and rain, it only added to the experience. Our first few days were windy and showery but Maui is currently in extreme to moderate drought conditions so the rain was a welcomed sight. . I never thought I would be someone to head to such an international destination and love it so thoroughly but I have to admit, Hawai’i is incredible. If you are feeling you need a reset before winter, DO IT 🧳 You won’t regret it.

[gsirvitor]

You can't end homelessness by just moving homeless people around dumbass. The San Francisco government is not capable of solving the homeless problem as it currently exists. Not because of incompetence, but because it's not something they can actually achieve. They regularly pour nearly a billion dollars on this issue every few years and it doesn't make a dent. They housed them, fed them, clothed them, but it just doesn't work. There's always just more homeless people the next year. For every homeless person they house, there's 4 more to replace them the next year (yes that's an actual statistic).

No one said it solves the homelessness issue, it solves the medieval living conditions that have cause cholera, tuberculosis and the black death to re-emerge.

The San Francisco government can help the homelessness issue, they can allow them to use public restrooms, open more shelters, open more soup kitchens, create a system to help them either get rehabilitation or get back into the job market, they can address the housing crisis by deporting the illegals, prevent foreign interests from buying land and housing, depose those in government who financially benefit from corruption, get rid of the land use restrictions that limit housing density, reduce concern for the environment as they clearly won't protect it, as evidenced by the massive wildfires caused by poor forest management, prevent community lobbying that prevents new development.

I can go on.

No, they line their pockets every few years and pay interest groups to continue to lobby against new construction as the longer the crisis persists the more federal funding they get.

There are actual solutions the government of California can implement that other states have, they choose not to.

[thoughtlessarse]

Portugal is the world’s leading producer of cork. In 2023, cork exports achieved a record value of €1.2 billion, 75 percent of which came from cork stoppers, according to APCOR, the Portuguese association of cork producers. The Amorim Group, Portugal's leading cork company, claims that around one out of three wine bottles worldwide is sealed with a cork stopper made in Portugal. About 20 years ago, significant concerns emerged that cork might lose market share to synthetic alternatives, which were less expensive and carried no risk of spoiling the wine with 'cork taint'. -However, the industry has succeeded in removing those substances that could harm the wine, including the molecule trichloroanisole (TCA), responsible for the cork taint. Nowadays, cork has a competitive edge over materials like plastic due to its sustainable properties. […] Cork forests are threatened by global warming However, rising temperatures threaten the survival of these trees. Careful forest management mitigates the risk of wildfires. "These agroforestry systems are managed in such a way that, with small shrubs and patchy areas where herbs and shrubs grow alongside livestock, the amount of vegetation that can burn is significantly reduced," explains Conceição de Silva, secretary general of the Union of Mediterranean Forests, which represents forest landowners in Portugal. But extreme heat brings other dangers too. "Plagues and diseases benefit from climate change. They are fighting back very strongly, and there are currently no solutions to diminish these threats. In some areas, trees are dying."

continue reading

#portugal #cork industry #cork forestry #carbon sink #climate crisis #drought #disease

[chromes-corner]

Hello there! I am a human who is in desperate need of an angst regarding Lilac Cookie and is hoping you could perhaps provide me with one since I absolutely adore your writings. Would that be okay?

I do not have any scenario in mind as my mind had been on a constant "No head, thoughts empty" mood for the past few days. But I was hoping you could do something with reader dying and lots of remorse and guilt for Lilac afterwards (Please, this is my fav stuff lol)

Thank you and bye :D

(Also this is my first request on Tumblr so sorry if anything I said is weird and/or out of place lol)

i have been thinking about this prompt nonstop for days. like I've been fucking CURSED by it. You gave me BRAIN WORMS DUDE. oughhhh i love writing angst so much AND WITH LILAC HELLOOOOO OPPORTUNITY. HELL YEAH BABEYYYY

5k (!!!!) words of brainrot enjoy :))))

---

Drown

Lilac/Reader

Notes: angst

Content Warnings: gratuitous blood, violence, injury, death, brief gore (an appendage gets chopped off ok)

A/N: this might not be as polished as it could be but god i was getting really sick of rereading it and tweaking it in teeny tiny bits. i just had to get it out lmao

A/N cont.: also I experimented a bit with story structure in this one so I hope it’s not too hard to follow?? Idk <3

Emotions are weakness.

That’s the first thing you learn on the job. Anger burns like an inferno and turns into blind rage, which will kill you in the end. Sadness boils in the pit of your stomach and turns into desperation, which will kill you in the end. Happiness dulls your edge and will be used against you, which might as well kill you in the end. Nobody teaches you how to suppress emotions. Nobody shows you how to pull a thick mask over your face until you’re indecipherable from the marble statues in the royal courtyard. It’s learned from experience; from trial and error (and pure luck if you don’t end up dead) that forces you to numb yourself from feeling anything at all. Then, and only then, are you safe from the world and all the terrors it has to throw at you.

Lilac knows this rule all too well. He’s honed himself to a deadly blade on the whetstone of this rule. He’s dedicated his life to it, and it, in return, has become his livelihood, providing him with more coins than he knows what to do with. As long as people roam the markets, there will be quarries to eliminate and bounties to collect. As long as Lilac continues to reinforce his walls, to block out anything and everything, he will survive.

He’s so well versed in the golden rule, in fact, that he doesn’t so much as flinch when the sharp edge of the metal tub slices open the pad of his finger. It’s more of a minor annoyance than a painful affliction – nothing more than a dull scrape against a brick wall. Lilac kneels in the sand over the metal tub, watching a single dark drop lazily dribble down his finger and palm and drip into the clear water, fresh from the well. The blood blossoms out in a wispy cloud, the single drop of pollutant rendering the entire basin spoiled. It only takes a tiny bit of one solution to corrupt another.

The single drop is not the end of it. Lilac submerges both his hands in the tainted waters. He splays his fingers wide, feeling the cool of the liquid seep into every crevice on his stained hands. The long-dried crimson that cakes his palms and crusts his fingernails starts to disperse, pluming out like the flames of a torch, dyeing the water in the wild hue of the desert sunset.

—

It’s like the sky was on fire.

Lilac crept over the lip of a massive dune, kicking up puffs of sand as he walked with light footsteps. He had shed his cowl after he left the marketplace, wrapping it – and the item it held – beneath his arm as the sun had disappeared behind the pale crests in the distance. When he stood on the very top of the massive bank, the wildfire glow revealed itself to him.

The sun hung low in the sky, like a blazing amber pupil trained on the world below. Bronzed clouds stayed still as a held breath against the smoldering backdrop of the evening sky, their edges lit up by the piercing sun like liquid gold. The sea of sand beyond was shrouded in its smoldering haze, dunes like embers and desert birds springing from their hiding spots like stray sparks.

Below the forge of the setting sun was a single, untouched coal, a cool relief within the scald. The tent was pitched beside an outcrop of sandy boulders, protecting it from the midday sun that choked the desert with a grip of scathing steel. It was a white canvas sheet stretched over the sand, held upright by a pole in the center. The color deflected the worst of the heat, and the canvas provided a shady pool to hide under when the scorch of the sands was too much to bear.

As Lilac began to slide down the dune, a head peeked out from under the tarp. Attached to that head was a pair of arms, clutching a tiny dagger to the owner’s chest. He adjusted the bundle of his cowl under his arm as he approached. The wielder of the dagger relaxed their grip on the weapon when they saw the shock of his hair and the weightlessness of his step. There was only ever one person who carried himself like that in the endless ocean of sand.

You greeted Lilac in silence, wordlessly taking his face in your hands and pressing your forehead to his. Lilac was equally as mute, closing his eyes and allowing himself to breathe and let go of the stiffness of his shoulders. Your hands were gentle on his face, bringing him closer, past the limit of proximity that he had originally allowed himself. He ghosted his free hand over your cheek, the tips of his fingers just barely grazing against the softness that he felt he shouldn’t be allowed to behold, much less caress. The unspoken sentiment went both ways: I’m glad you’re okay.

Lilac only opened his eyes when he felt a tug at the bundle under his arm. He forgot it was even there while he was drowning under the soft exhales you had left fanning over his face while you cradled him. He unwrapped his cowl and presented you with the item that was hiding within.

A conch shell.

You stared at the gift with wide eyes, like it would vanish if you looked away. Its smooth, polished surface was cool on your palms, but you almost dropped it as though it had scorched you upon contact. It was pearly white like sands from where it came – wholly different from the pale gold of the desert. You ran your fingers over the various bumps and ridges, memorizing every inch of the pristine shell. Lilac couldn’t look away from its surface reflected in your glassy eyes.

Carefully, slowly, you held the shell up to the side of your head. The hollowed side had fit snugly on your ear. You closed your eyes and held your breath.

You listened for a long time.

—

Lilac blinks, and the image is gone.

He swishes his hands around in the tub and begins to scrub. The dried blood comes off in flakes, and the clarity of the water is entirely lost beneath the pink tint. He scrubs everywhere. Between his fingers. Over his knuckles. Under his fingernails. He passes the stiff bristles of the brush over his hands dozens of times, revisiting the same areas over and over again until the skin is raw and tingling. Still, he does not show express a fraction of discomfort at the feeling.

Finally, he stops his scrubbing. The stains on his hands have been washed away. The skin underneath shows through. Despite this, he still feels unclean.

No matter. Lilac moves on to the next item that needs cleaning. A small, soiled pouch jingles as he picks it up. He dumps its contents into the tub, and he watches the shiny gold coins sink to the bottom.

—

The man behind the desk peered into the bloody sack Lilac provided and grimaced. “Sheesh, I take it he didn’t wanna come willingly?” He pushed the sack away with a pencil until it was at arm’s length. “It doesn’t matter, I guess. You got the job done, and that’s all I asked of you.”

The man haphazardly threw a pouch onto the table in front of him. It landed next to the bloody sack with a full, hearty clink. Lilac took the pouch and dumped it on the table. Dozens of coins fell to the surface with a hefty clatter.

“You think I shorted you?” the man asked with a snort, tapping on the red wooden desk before him as Lilac began to drop them back in the pouch. “They’re all there, friend, trust me. Come on, now, you're gonna stain the imported wood.”

Lilac did not hear him. He could not hear anything. The only thing in his ears was the thrum of blood throbbing through his head. Like the crackle of static. Like the ocean’s tide.

He counted the pieces individually, turning them over in his hand, then letting them fall into the sack. The red that coated his hands dirtied the luster and left the coins wet and slick. Lilac didn’t worry about staining his payment. The money was already dirty, even before he arrived.

The man at the desk watched, gritting his teeth each time Lilac picked up a coin. “I’ve got a few more jobs for you when you’re done with that.”

Lilac did not acknowledge him. The clinking of coins was his only answer, sharp and rhythmic.

The man pushed forward a few sheets of aged parchment from his side of the desk. One depicted a woman in a bandana, her toothy grin nearly as sharp as her daggers. Another was simply a dark, blurry silhouette in the vague shape of a person. The only tip to their identity was the glint of the diamond on their cane and the white bulb of light reflected in their monocle. On the last poster was a hulking beast of a man, his sun-kissed skin wrinkled with sea salt and his yellowed teeth crooked into a sneer. One eye glared into the sunlight, while the other was covered by a black patch.

Lilac’s gaze hovered over the last poster. The man’s heavy, squared frame took up most of the image, but behind him was a glimpse of vast, never-ending water beneath a clear horizon. Blue meeting blue.

Lilac’s employer leaned over the desk. “Ah, looking for a tropical vacation, huh? Ol’ ‘broadside’ here was last spotted in the Tropical Soda Islands, plundering my merchant ships with his ragtag scurvy crew. Good choice, though. I hear the Isles are beautiful this time of year.”

Lilac took the poster and the coin satchel and left without another word.

—

Lilac scoops the coins out of the water and tilts his hand until the light hits them just right. They shine like the day they were minted. They are heavy in his palm, heavy enough to make his arm teeter like it rests on the fulcrum of a scale. Even a single coin in the center of his upturned hand leaves him trembling. They’ve never been so weighty before. They’ve never been so worthless. He lays them on a square of burlap, so they can dry beneath the sun.

The next item to be washed is the lump of stiff, black fabric that was once the thick veil attached to his belt. He pushes it under the water and it loosens, then he goes to work on it with the brush. The material is dark, and it flows beneath the water in slow-motion, as though being pushed by a soft nighttime wind.

—

The rising full moon encircles your head like a halo as you remain still beneath the cover of the black desert sky. Your hair, dark and shapeless against the stark white backdrop, rustles in the breeze.

You listened into the shell until your lungs screamed for air. The first breath you let slip from your lungs came out as a stutter. The first breath you let into your chest was drawn in as a sob. A tear rolled out from beneath your still-closed eye. It trailed slowly over your cheekbone, flushed red, but was wiped away by a gentle thumb.

Your eyes flew open and you pushed the shell into Lilac’s hands. He let you guide it up to his ear, and he closed his eyes as its cool surface rested against the side of his head. He stilled his breath and waited, just as you had.

The static that filled his ear swayed into focus like the tide. The gentle swish rang out throughout the shell and filled his head. It was a sound he had only ever heard stories of. Water lapping against the shore, like the pulsing of a heartbeat. Like the rhythm of a song on the wind. Like the sound of your voice breaking through his trance.

—

The dark stain does not come out. It’s lightened significantly, but as Lilac fans it out to dry, there’s an ugly cloud of brown spanning nearly the entire surface. He traces his fingers around the edges of the stain. It’d be easier to throw the whole thing out and get a new one.

He grabs his twin Chakrams from his side and inspects them. They, too, are stained, their razor edges more red than their normal steely silver. They’re cool to the touch, despite the heat.

—

The marketplace buzzed with life, filled with the calls of criers advertising their wares and the chatter among locals and tourists as they clinked about the shop stands. It was a constant, steady noise; not a whisper and not an uproar. It was static, like a rusty cooling unit sputtering to life in the sweltering afternoon. Like the calm but colossal weight of water creeping up a beach as the tide swelled in.

Lilac stumbled into the narrow street from an even narrower alleyway. He knocked his shoulder against the cool sandstone wall as he pushed himself upright. A damp sack dangled from his hip, still dripping blood into the dusty cobblestone beneath his feet. When Lilac pushed himself from the wall and started forward with all the grace of a newborn doe, his hand left a dark, smeared handprint.

His ears rang and the world tilted beneath his feet, while his legs went into autopilot and carried him toward his destination. The cacophony of the marketplace never ceased, even as eyes, so many of them, followed him down his path. Tourists shied away from the streets. Locals looked away as he came, then at him as he went. Shopkeepers leaned out from the red canopies of their stalls. Some glanced his way and turned back to their business, while others, wide and frightened, bore into the back of his head.

The buzzing of conversation beside him became hushed. Lilac was underwater, the rumble of alarmed voices all around him pulled him deeper and deeper below the surface until the edge of his vision turned black as night. His bleary mind fell down into the depths. The only sound in his head was that of the blood pulsing through his ears, drowning him beneath the torrent.

—

The Chakrams cleaned easily, even in the soiled water. They are quickly returned to deadly perfection. Lilac studies the blades, looking for any spots that he missed. A dirty weapon is poor showmanship. When he finds one, a small blot of dirt crusting the steel, he flicks a fingernail over it. It rings out with a soft metallic peal. White noise in the back of his head.

—

“Do you hear it?” you asked, cradling the back of his hand in yours.

Lilac nodded to the beat of the current that washed over the invisible shore.

“So much water, as far as the eye can see.” You threaded your fingers through his free hand. “They say you can’t see any land on the other side. It’s just water. Blue water meeting a blue horizon.”

You closed your eyes and saw yourself standing on a beach. The sand there was wet, not dry like the desert. The tide massaged your ankles as it washed over the ground beneath your feet. The air was cold and fresh in your lungs, and your nose was flooded with the bite of salt on the breeze that melded around your body like the lightest of fabrics.

Lilac pictured a beach, too. All he could see was you running down the beach, kicking up a spray of salty water in the red sunset with each joyful footstep.

“I will take you there.” Lilac clung to the image of your joy, your laughter fully drowning out the white noise. “We’ll see the ocean together.”

—

Plink.

A droplet of water splashes against the blade of his Chakram. Lilac turns the weapon over in his hand. The reflection of the sun flashes brilliantly against the shining steel. He instinctively squeezes his eyes shut as the brightness momentarily blinds him.

Plink.

Another drip, despite the clarity of the day. The liquid slides down the blade and drops unceremoniously into the tub. 

—

Plink.

You looked so small in the dark, narrow space, with your shoulders shrunk inward and your arms squeezed tightly against your chest. Your hands were clenched over the steel below your chin, and the metal just barely kissed your throat. Your fingers were so stiff, so tense that the entire length of your arms, all the way to your neck and shoulders, trembled. Lines of red drew themselves down the blade as you tightened your grip on the steel and tried to pull it away from your throat with all the strength you could muster.

Your eyes were trained on him, wild and frenzied, pupils constricted as your teeth chattered.

Plink.

The tear that rolled down your face dripped onto the scimitar skimming your jaw.

Lilac tightened his grip on his Chakrams, the sharp edges trained at the person before him. It was just a young man, barely out of his teens, who had a hand tangled firmly in your hair. He, too, had a wild look in his eyes. The hold he had on his sword’s hilt left his knuckles nearly as pale as his face, and there was no doubt his palms were as slick as his forehead. The man lurched back into the shadows, cornered and so very afraid as he tilted his blade back to meet your throat.

“You don’t want to do this.” Lilac was the first to speak, his tone measured and calm as he matched the man’s step back with a calculated step forward. “I can take you in breathing, or I can drag you in stiff.”

“Don’t come any closer!” the young man exclaimed. His voice shook and cracked.

Lilac stilled himself, even as his heart crashed against his chest and boomed in his ears like a seaside thunderstorm. The man was holding you to his chest like you were a shield, and cowering like a trapped animal.

All Lilac needed was a window for him to fling one of his weapons. The man would make a mistake sooner or later. He was so very young, face still plump from childhood, as scared and as pale as you were. He wasn’t a murderer, only a petty thief who stole from the wrong person. A moment of hesitation — or flat-out surrender — was inevitable. Lilac kept his eyes trained on the man, waiting for that perfect moment.

“Lilac,” you whimpered beneath tears. “Lilac, help me…”

“Shut up!” The man jerked your head back and curled his fingers deeper into your hair.

The angle at which he pulled you was perfect. With the man’s attention drawn away and the side of his neck exposed, Lilac flicked a Chakram forward, faster than lightning. The man didn’t even know what hit him as his hands jerked to the side to clutch his neck. His sword clattered against the wall where he threw it in his panic, and both it and the man fell to the ground.

—

Plink.

Lilac inhales sharply and holds his head as it throbs, squeezing his eyes tight with a pained grimace. Blood thunders through his ears like drums, beating his temples over and over until he doubles over and clutches the edge of the tub. He reaches for the next item to clean, clenching his teeth and struggling to breathe.

There is nothing left.

With his equipment washed, the water has run red. Lilac cannot see the bottom of the tub. The reflection of the sun is muted, drowning beneath the clouded liquid. The pale yellow of the sun and the deep gold of the sand pale before the stark red that stains the opaque water. Red like the desert sky. Red like imported wood. Red like the flush of your cheeks. Red like a shopkeep’s canopy. Red like an ocean sunset. Red like blood dripping down a blade. Red like death.

Lilac, clinging to the edge of the metal tub, watching his reflection like it’s a stranger staring back at him, drowns in the red.

—

It was a shame someone so young had to meet their end in such a bloody way.

Lilac leaned over the body and positioned his blade over the man’s hand. He balanced the sole of his foot on the flat edge inside the Chakram’s loop and pushed down. In one swift movement, he separated the dead man’s forefinger from his body with a soft crack. The finger was still warm when he plucked it from the ground, and Lilac was prompt to drop it into a sack at his hip. With the proof of his completed job secured, he was ready to collect his payment for the quarry and get you as far away from there as he could.

When he turned around, Lilac expected to see you leaning against the wall, scared and shaking and ready to take his hand. Ready for him to make everything alright like he promised he always would. What he saw instead was so much worse than he could ever imagine.

You were on your back, mouth agape as your body seized. Lilac's blades clattered to the ground as he dropped to your side. Beneath his legs, the growing puddle gushed out and pooled around his knees.

The open wound on your neck was a long, perfectly straight line, a clean slice made in a split second when the man threw his sword to the side to grasp at his own wound. You weakly palmed at the cut, gasping in ragged, shallow breaths as your hands slipped right off the crimson that spilled out like water from a spigot.

He tried to stop it with his hands, first. The blood pulsed out from beneath his palms despite the pressure he put on it. It slicked his hands and leaked through the gaps between his fingers, coating him in its scorching reach. The bite of metal overpowered his personal fragrance, burning his nostrils and clogging his throat as he pressed his palms against your skin.

It kept coming, even as he clasped his hands tight, so tight, over your neck. Lilac ripped the soft lavender veil from his belt and wadded it up, frantically pushing it against your throat. The fabric plugged the wound for a few moments before it, too, became sopping wet.

You looked at Lilac with eyes nearly popping out of your head. Sweat covered your face in a film, shining on your skin as it paled under the blood loss. Your inhales became thick, and your exhales came out in gurgles.

“L… Li…” It takes all your strength to flex your tongue to the roof of your mouth.

Lilac shushes you. “Don’t speak. Just breathe.”

You attempted to nod, but all you could manage was a tremble. You clenched your mouth shut and gritted your teeth so hard they felt like they could crack. Breathing through your nose, you stared up at the sky and clenched your hands into weak fists.

Stop, stop, it has to stop, Lilac silently begged, willing the cascade of red to cease from prayer alone. He’d seen blood like this, caused by his hand, but it’s never sickened him to this level. It’d never made his heart feel like it was going to jump right out of his body. Bile rose in the back of his throat, and he held his breath so the scent and the wetness and the fact that there was so much being spilled from something so small so quickly didn’t cause his stomach to vacate itself.

The veil was so heavy under his hands, so full that it no longer absorbed any more blood. Excess dripped down from the dark edges and tassels as it overflowed, leaving the crimson that was still flowing freely from your throat to find another place to pool. 

He focused all his attention on stopping the bleeding that he hardly noticed when your shakes started to die down. The rapid rise and fall of your chest became stunted, and each exhale left a few beats of stillness in your chest before lurching back up with another gasp. Your palms were face-down on the dirty stone ground, fingers arched, no longer curled into the butt of your hands.

Lilac nudged your cheek. “Stay awake.”

You took a few rapid breaths and whimpered in confirmation of his words.

The flow was finally coming to a halt beneath the veil — as if that was any consolation. The pool beneath your neck seeped into the cracks of the cobblestone ground, painting the smooth rocks a shade darker than their typical gray. Lilac’s hands had become sticky as the wetness baked and dried under the blazing desert heat. If he could get you to a point where you could securely cover the wound while he got help, you would have a chance. He just needs—

“A little longer,” he says, watching your chest stutter in acknowledgment.

Lilac copied your breathing, counting the seconds between each breath.

One, two… one, two…

“Do you remember what I told you?”

One… one, two… one, two…

“I’ll take you to see the ocean.”

One, two…

“We’ll sail out to a distant island.”

One, two…

“We can watch the blue in every direction, as far as the eye can see.”

One, two, three… one, two…

“Just keep thinking of the ocean.”

One, two, three…

“Think of the ocean.”

Four, five, six…

“Can you hear it?”

Seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve…

Lilac stopped counting. He stilled, hands still pressed to your throat, watching the sweat on your face dry and the color bleed from your face. He listened for the sound of your breathing. For a whimper. For any indication of consciousness.

He listened for a long time.

—

Drip.

The tub trembles under his grip. The soiled water sloshes around as Lilac shakes, every muscle stretched taut and lit on fire. His fingers clamp down over the sharp edge. The metal breaks his skin. He does not feel it.

Drip. Drip.

His heart pounds in his throat as he closes his eyes. The scene from the alleyway plays itself out, again and again, seared into the back of his eyelids. With every blink, all he can see is you, staring into the sky, collapsed and lying still on the dirty ground. Your eyes, so wide and scared and pleading for help, his help, losing their light and becoming blank as your entire body seized and you choked and gurgled on hot, slick red. 

Emotions are weakness.

Drip drip drip.

Lilac is a machine. He obeys his orders and executes his programs. He was an autonomous being that did as it was told without a single thought or opinion about the whole ordeal. Kill. Get paid. Kill. Get paid. A looping function that never returned zero, that never reached the termination protocol. Kill. Get paid. Kill. Get paid. Numb to the world and to the victims of his hands. A simple cycle that he went and ruined, all because he caved into the weakness of emotion. Because he let himself grow weak and left his walls to weather against the soft rain that held him in its sweet embrace. Anger will kill you in the end.

Drip drip drip.

He grew weak. He was weak. He should’ve known you would follow him, always concerned for his safety, always refusing to believe that he could handle himself. He should’ve known you’d be found. You did not grow up on the golden rule. You were never taught to stalk the streets, always checking behind your back and honing your senses to detect even the slightest disturbance. He should’ve known his happiness would be used against him. It was only a matter of time before his weak spot was discovered. If he wasn’t weak, so damn weak, you wouldn’t be rotting in some dank alleyway, or buried out in the sands, or whatever his employer did to your body when he sent his men to clean up the scene. You could’ve been happy and safe and none the wiser to the crushing numbness of his heart, had he not let himself indulge in the first shred of happiness he’d felt in years. Sadness will kill you in the end.

Drip. Drip drip drip drip.

The tears flow freely now, the taste of salt mixing with the smell of metal. The barriers he worked so hard to build eroded away in your touch. The numbness, once replaced by a warm morning’s bliss, evolves into a dark ache that eats him from the inside out. Like a storm raging off the coast, like the wind beating on a sail, the emotion breaks through the fortifications. The stronghold of his honed mind collapses. Lilac cries and gasps and shakes for the first time since he was a child.

He was weak.

He was happy.

Nearly all his life, he’d been underwater, pulled along by the current, granted just enough light to see where he was headed. Nothing else mattered except moving forward. Then, he was pulled out of the water without warning, thrust into the world that was just beyond the surface. A part of him that he had locked in a box and buried in the desert was unearthed. It was chaotic. It was terrifying. It was beautiful. 

It was you.

It came like a shock of lightning. Like a tidal wave crashing against the shore. When he was with you, the air was that much sweeter. The earth was that much softer. His heart was that much lighter.

Happiness was beautiful and so much bigger than he could ever imagine. It was a blooming in his chest, like the petals of a flower opening up to the sunshine. It was the cool moon shedding its light over the ceaseless plains of sand. It was the ocean meeting the sky, blue meeting blue, everywhere you looked, stretching infinitely beyond the horizon and winding around your heart until it was part of that infinity, all-encompassing, all-embracing.

Lilac never believed he could feel love. He thought it had died — that he had killed it, over and over again — just like his targets. He thought that everything he worked toward was meant to kill it and ensure that it stayed dead. It was still there, however; a seed burrowed inside a heart trained to be still. It waited for you to come and nurture it, to let it grow and spread until he was love, open and ceaseless and infinite.

And then he really did kill it. It really did die, choking on its own blood as it pleaded for his help, begging for him to save its life.

That blood is on his hands. He will carry the feeling of sickly wetness on his skin, in his heart, for the rest of his life. Every time he feels even an iota of happiness, he will be reminded that his love is dead, buried in a shallow, unmarked grave, and it’s his fault. The numbness buzzes in his ears. Like crackling static. Like the ocean’s tide. Like your laughter, sweet on the wind and full of joy. Like your breathing, shallow and ragged, and the moment it stops endlessly replaying in his head.

Happiness might as well kill you in the end.

#cookie run x reader #lilac cookie x reader #lilac cookie #cookie run

[himbogiants]

I know all I have done since I posted stories here is write a chapter/2 chapters and not continue, I will continue them I promise but I really wanted to write this as I am a slave to the found family trope. Enjoy grumpy old man (unwillingly) becomes guardian to a chaotic little girl. Inspired by Tlou Ellie and Joel as well as GoT the hound and arya.

Thorn in my side

(Prologue)

The actual story will be MUCH longer but this is just a lil intro

Triggers: cursing I guess? But that will be the case with most chapters because addie knows some colourful words and likes to throw them around

>:)

If anything could be said without any argument it would be that the man wasn't what one would call welcoming. While he hadn't got much nice virtues in his favour, he had got a colourful array of other descriptive words to choose from. Brutish, nasty, bitter, ill-tempered (-short tempered too) and those were just starter options to a more deliciously verbal main course.

From what could be gathered while sneaking around the alleys, some villagers deemed he wasn't all bad, even vowed that 'so long as you leave him alone, don't talk to him, look at him and depending the day, you don't breathe insufficiently around him, you'll be fine'. That advice seemed to have spread like a wildfire, and slowly but surely, it appeared as if an unavowed agreement was set to leave him be to his indulgences, far out in his small cottage home at the edge of the kingdom.

Despite it all, he didn't pay their mindless gossip any attention- if anything it seemed he reveled in it, loving that it ensured the most loud and obnoxious 'citizens' would stay far far away from his vicinity. And should they get too close, the simple solution was one hard glare over the shoulder from his peripheral to send them running back home- some in tears. Some might say he was a bit of an 'old prune' or 'sad sour vessel of a man'. A man filled with nothing but grotesque hatred for anything and anyone around him, be it the townspeople, village or the whole damn kingdom.

And unfortunately, the old man didn't do the rotten rumours any favours. He never cared for the unbidden pesky pokes and prods at his life, and had he cared, he may have even humoured their outlandish claims.

Though all that being said he wasn't devoid of finding solitude. It was quite clear he did like quiet things. Being devoid from sounds of sappy children and stumbling drunkards eased such simplicite interests. The only sounds he seemed to find solace in was the buzz and hums of wildlife while tending his crops, the pitter-patter of rain hopping about like grasshoppers against the stone wall and the crackle from the hearth as its warmth billowed about his only comfort, his home.

He didn't confide and he didn't care, he was just a isolated gruff man who seemed alot deeper than the wretched rumours had precieved. From any other perspective however, it could fairly be assumed that his heart had been thorn out many moons ago, or perhaps buried, deep deep down, into depths of tarnished emotions.

It was too bad Addie couldn't aid him in his predicament.

From afar she could pity the man, and she'd only been there a fortnight thus far, from what she gathered he just needed..something, maybe a hound, hounds couldn't talk as far as she knew. Though perhaps a lazy one, that wouldn't bark at the slightest jitter.

It was clear from her restless week long trail through the kingdom that his behaviour towards townsfolk and himself personally were two different matters entirely- from what she picked up from gossip of course. He had been in the markets that day, and from the coverage scrouing the grimy streets from the plants, drains, carriages and the sort, all she could gather was the pitiful whispers about town, that 'the old troll had left his cave'.

It was abundantly obviously to even the thickest of minds this man's home was void of any life besides his own. That had been good enough for her. Despite hiding for dear life from all those around her, it had been a rare occasion were she had been happy to be around someone of such..stature. A ticket to an easy few weeks, unbothered by children, maids or fiendish cats. But still, from her time 'spent with him' (if you could even call it that) she had become divided in her own mind. Part of her found sorrow in seeing him all alone, even a little anger towards all the dreadful hushed chatter she overheard before she had happened upon his satchel, slipping inside unbeknownst to the gruff old man, in his pursuit of purchasing..whatever it was he was buying. Another part of her played offence, accusatory in the nature that he had formed the reputation himself, had he shown even the inching of a smile maybe, just maybe, his situation wouldn't be so dire. But he dug his grave and now he had to lie with his misery and consequence. And that made sympathy a rather hard feeling to render him by.

Either side of her inner turmoil could agree on one thing when it come down to it. Lest he change his ways there was no saving him.

Once she was stocked up she'd be moving on, she was quite conflicted on wether she'd feel relief or regret on leaving such a sad husk of a man, but there was nothing to be done. Nothing she could- would do. Especially given that even with her conflicted pity, he was still one of them- hatred toward others like him or not.

If it came to priorities she was putting herself first. It was a dangerous world for those one twelfth of the average height. Even more so when said people were believed to be a dying species. And were a rarity for two gruelling reasons- both stemming from blood. Its taste, and its qualities. Humans in these times were sought out now for a palatable delicacy or for cures, tinctures that could cure even the deadliest of diseases- or so the presumptuous prodigious pricks had persuaded one another into believing. Either way, the thought made her sick. All that loss, to satisfy the mind, or the stomach. But this was life now, and she was determined to live it. Endure and survive it.

Alas, she hadn't planned to stay long. A few weeks at most, with a week spent grafting the streets and fourteen nights in his abode it summed to three tiresome weeks thus far. It was stock up and carry on. Take what you can, leave what you must. There was codes to follow, they had been set out by her family, and in the time she got to have with them, each member followed them wholeheartedly. Her dad had been to teach her. God she missed him. His absence had hit the hardest. Despite the years that had past, his loss was still so vivid. In the waking world and dream realm alike. Her mother was a sweet traditional lady, well kept, strict but tender, loving to all those around her. But her father, he had shown her everything, taught her everything. He crafted the person she had become and he was partly her biggest motivation to keep going.

In theory, being reunited with her family wouldn't take long. All she'd really have to do was let a single giant see her. In whatever morbid twisted fate she’d be granted, it would eventually lead home. Home to the warmth of her mother's embrace, the lingering whispers of love and meaning in her fathers voice. Home as both held her tight and never let go. Despite its gruesome reality, it was a nice dream- but her families memory was worth more than ending up as a garnish on a plate, a plate already full of greed and an unquenchable thirst for more and more. For them, she'd keep going. For them she would reach the haven. Be amongst her people once more, bring normality back into the world, despite being born into the current way of life for humanity. To her in a way everyday had become the status quo. But the faith of getting to experience what life had been. Now that would be something.

So she would deal with this grouch for another few weeks or so, then continue her journey. Her long long journey, to salvation.

At least. That's what she hoped would happen. That was the plan after all.

Getting caught was not.

#found family #gianttiny #giant #tiny #giant and tiny #gt story #angst #grumpy old dude become substitute father to wild and angry child so she doesnt get found by others and get herself killed.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

* * * * *

The climate crisis requires a wartime footing

Camilla Cavendish: “I wish,” a longstanding US Democrat and environmentalist said to me recently, “that we’d never politicised global warming.” Even as extreme heat is demonstrating that no country will be immune from climate change, the politics are becoming more treacherous. Parts of the right are mobilising to slow down the path to net zero, as inflation bites and the fossil fuel industry comes under pressure. In the US, Ron DeSantis has rejected “the politicisation of the weather” — despite having had to grapple with the effects of its extremes in Florida — and House Republicans are lobbying to overturn a tax on methane pollution within the Inflation Reduction Act. In Britain, Conservatives who fear annihilation at the next election have decided to use green policies as a wedge against Labour. Even Canada’s premier, Justin Trudeau, is struggling to deliver what was a radical plan on decarbonisation.

I have the eerie sense that some of the old tunes of the 1990s are being replayed. Although outright climate denial is now patently delusional, rightist politicians are quick to claim that the west has already done enough, or that new technology will save us. There have also been some bizarre attempts to distract from the main issue. When the skies in New York State turned orange in June, Rudy Giuliani tweeted “Is it due to wildfires, climate change or something more sinister?”. In Britain, the former Tory minister Lord David Frost recently declared that we shouldn’t worry because more people die of cold than heat. Meanwhile the hard end of the oil industry continues to lobby for projects that would be stranded assets under net zero.

The dilemma is how to balance climate action with the preservation of livelihoods. This can feel frustrating to those of us who fear we may soon reach planet tipping points which will wreak their own economic havoc. Extreme weather has already made some US homes uninsurable. Canada has lost more land to wildfires this year than any other on record, and its Climate Institute estimates that extreme heat will threaten half a million jobs by 2050. Meanwhile Greece, Italy and Spain, which are sweltering in 40C heat, must fear for the future of their tourist industries. Nevertheless, it is legitimate to ask which solutions will be most cost-effective, and where the costs should fall. The path to net zero demands that governments pull off the equivalent of a new Industrial Revolution in only three decades. Politicians are reluctant to move ahead of where they think public opinion is — and the public dislike blank cheques. The answer is surely to invoke a wartime spirit, and make the fight against climate change a joint endeavour against a common enemy. If the public and political will is there, human ingenuity can prevail, with remarkable speed. In the second world war, America transformed its manufacturing base to produce tanks and ammunition. The Covid pandemic resulted in the discovery and development of vaccines at scale, saving millions of lives. Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has finally prompted Germany to free itself from its dependence on Russian gas.

What do all these cases have in common? A determined focus on a single objective, a sense of national unity and leadership by the private sector. For this to happen with climate, the political conversation has to mature. The left is correct in believing that getting to net zero will require a bigger state to mobilise resources and frame objectives. But the right is also correct that only markets are nimble and innovative enough to deliver. In Britain, some Tories are disingenuously trying to elide an unpopular tax on polluting vehicles in London with entirely separate climate policy. But many Green parties have committed similar sins, merging ‘green’ policies with ‘red’ ones — like wealth taxes, shrinking the military or, disastrously for Germany’s carbon footprint, opposing nuclear power. The story that voters need to hear from political leaders cannot be ideological. Long before Al Gore spoke so eloquently about the Inconvenient Truth, Margaret Thatcher warned of the growing peril of carbon emissions, and called for a framework convention on climate change in her speech to the 1989 UN General Assembly. Some modern Conservatives who consider themselves Thatcher’s disciples hate being reminded of her words that “we shall only succeed in dealing with the problems through a vast international, co-operative effort” — but she was right.

In two decades of writing about climate change I have learnt that it provokes deeply emotional reactions. People are quick to dispute any suggestion that they should change their lifestyle, or that the world they inhabit might change. They are understandably concerned about who is going to bear the costs of decarbonisation, and whether it is fair. Many would rather not think about it too much. Individual political leaders are navigating a very complex situation, a global tragedy of the commons in which no one population wants to lose out to any other. My American Democrat friend was right: the issue is too important to be held hostage by any one group. If we are to tackle the warming climate, we must take the heat out of the politics.

[thanks Robert Scott Horton]

#climate emergency #Robert Scott Horton #Financial Times #Camilla Cavandish #articles #history #climate change #global emergency #wartime footing

[citizensclub]

"We don't have the power to stop our                extinction" says Paola Antonelli curator of MoMA museum in New York

Humans will inevitably become extinct due to environmental breakdown, but we have the power to design ourselves a "beautiful ending". Paola Antonelli opened a major exhibition in Milan called "Broken Nature" that showed the Earth without humans.

NATURE IS GIVING US SIGNALS THAT WE CANNOT IGNORE MUCH LONGER

1-AGRICULTURE

According to "All Good Market" magazine in UK, we only have 60 harvests left as of 2014. Globally, we're destroying top soil at a rate of 1-3cm each year. In UK, we've lost 84% of our fertile top soil since 1850.

Humans have farmed for the past 12,000 years and we may now only have half a century left of this way of life

2-FOSSIL FUEL INDUSTRIES

Fossil fuel powerful lobbys seem to be controlling the fight against climate change as no real progress has been accomplished since the first UN summit in Berlin in 1995. As of today, only Norway, the biggest oil producer in this part of Europe, has implemented some measures to curb global warming.

During the COP 26 in Glasgow Scotland, 503 fossil fuel lobbyists participated at the summit at the invitation of 27 countries including Canada, Brazil and Russia. It is obvious that these guys were not there to help and find solutions to the present climate crisis.

The oil industry is the most lucrative business on the planet and we subsidize them with $billions each year without asking anything in return. In 2019, the whole fossil fuel industry was supported with an average of $548 Billions each year.

At the beginning of the 80's, Shell and Exxon admitted that their products were responsible for the increase of GHG on the planet and it was confirmed later by Rex Tillerson CEO of Exxon at the time.

If the fossil fuel industries admitted that they're responsible for a large part of the problem, therefore they should be part of the solution to do something before it's too late.

Fossil fuel industries have reserves left in oil and natural gas for the next 50 years and coal for at least 114 years and rest assured that they will use all of it until the end and it's not the fight against climate change that will stop them.

3-DURING THIS TIME, OUR PLANET IS ON FIRE

As India is undergoing 2 months of extreme weather per year, the University of Hawaii estimates that 74% of the global population could face deadly heat waves before 2100 if Green House Gas (GHG) continue to increase at the current rate.

WILDFIRES

A direct result of heat waves is the increasing number of wildfires in all parts of the globe. In Europe only, the surface of forest burned to the ground has reached 600,000 hectares so far this year, a record since the first data collected in 2006.

4-RECORD DROUGHT IN ALL PARTS OF EUROPE

European countries are undergoing extreme heat waves. As result water level is going down at an alarming rate in rivers and reservoirs. In England people are wondering where the riverThames has gone.

In some regions of the globe, water resources depend mainly on snow melting. However with the anthropogenic climate change the water runoff will become less predictable for population who depend this water supply.

5-ICE MELTING

The Earth has lost 28 trillions tons of ice in less than 30 years with an average of 1,2 trillion ton per year. Half of the glaciers of the world could disappear before 2100 as the current trend in global warming is not about to stop.

Our future depends heavily on glaciers to regulate the Earth's temperature, they are our cooling system. According to "Heidi Sylvestre of Futura Planet", if we are not able to control the rise of the GHG during the next 6 years we will pass the limit of 1,5 degree Celsius and, we're not able today to measure the consequences.

IT SEEMS WE'RE NOT ACCOMPLISHING ANY PROGRESS IN THE FIGHT AGAINST CLIMATE CHANGE

According to the "International Energy Agency" the commitments taken during COP 26 to keep global warming temperature below 1,8 Celsius provoked a certain skepticism among the scientific community.

Many of these commitments need to be ratified by parliaments of most of the countries attending the summit which is quite uncertain as powerful fossil fuel lobbys already have influence over most governments on the planet.

6-INDUSTRIAL CHIMNEYS ARE TECHNOLOGY OF THE PAST AND IN VIEW OF THE CLIMATE CRISIS, IT BECOMES URGENT THAT WE FIND AN ALTERNATIVE

Heavy industry makes products that are central to our modern way of life but is also responsible for nearly 40% of global carbon dioxide emissions. Steel, ciment and chemicals are the top three emitting industries and are among the most difficult to decarbonize, owing to technical factors like the need for very high heat and process emissions of carbon dioxide, and economic factors including low profit margins capital intensity. (BROOKINGS, Samantha Gross, June 2021)

If engineers can design and build industrial plants worth hundreds of $millions using equipments, processes and chemicals they sure can design and build an annex to the plant and use the same knowledge to capture, recuperate and process the toxic residues they're actually shooting up to the sky.

MESSAGE TO THE POLITICAL CLASS

When more rivers will run dry as it does now, when the harvests will burn in the field because of steady drought and heat waves, when extreme weather will hit cities around the globe, when food and drinking water will become scarce, all those who keep stalling the fight against climate change simply to protect their asset will, finally realize that money is something they cannot eat.

Since 1995, governments have been sending TALKERS to the UN summits. "Talkers are usually more articulate than DOERS since talk is their specialty (T. Sowell). Enough with talking, we need action.

After 26 COP summits it is obvious than we cannot conduct a fight against climate change by working only 2 weeks in a year. What the planet needs is someone in charge on a full time basis who will go thru all the commitments taken recently by the participating countries.

Most commitments may take years to accomplish making legislation urgent.

Our own needs are compromising the legacy we are leaving to future generation. We must force our governments to change the actual trend. Let us be clear about something, we are the victims of Climate Change and our grandchildren will have to fight for food and water if nothing is done starting today.

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

TEASER BLAST

We are excited to share a teaser from BABY BANK by @booksbysarahrobinson releasing 9/19!

#PreOrderHere: https://booksbysarahrobinson.com/books/baby-bank/

TROPES:

Romantic Comedy

Female/Female

Single parent

Washington DC

Queer Fiction

Enemies-to-lovers

ABOUT THE BOOK:

Mila Torres is a successful divorce lawyer by day, stand-up comedian by night and by all accounts--except her mother's--living a bisexual elder millennial's dream life in Washington, DC. That is until she realizes she's only a year away from hitting the ripe old age of thirty-five and her doctor suggests at her annual pap smear that maybe she should consider freezing her eggs if she wants kids in the future. Except, she doesn't want a child in the far future...she wants a child right now.

This poses a bit of a problem since she's ten swipes past single and living Golden Girls style with two of her best friends who work on Capitol Hill and one ornery old cat. That is, until she hears a story from a friend about a free sperm bank online app called Baby Bank. A few margaritas later and Mila has swiped on over fifty sperm donors until she finds the perfect match--handsome, successful, brilliant, everything you'd want your sperm to be.

Now she's meeting him at a hotel--along with two of her best friends for back up--to complete the process. All should have gone smoothly, except when she learns that her sperm donor is the brother of the reporter that Mila has been dodging for months, and that while she originally only wanted this man's baby, she actually wants his sister, too.

In a comedic story of LGBTQIA+ romance and millennial specific drama, Mila finds that motherhood and dating are not compatible when you keep it all in the family and that the modern elder millennial maybe can't have it all.

Add to yourTBR: https://bit.ly/45tXtUR

#coverr eveal #new book alert #love reading #romance novels #romance #must read #book nerds #bookish love #ebooks #wildfire marketing solutions #amy barnett #queer fiction #rom com #sarah robinson #books of instagram #bookstagrammer

[bookboleynreads]

Release Blitz! The C Agreement (A Rendezvous Novel) by R.L. Kenderson

Release Blitz! The C Agreement (A Rendezvous Novel) by R.L. Kenderson

THE C AGREEMENTR.L. KendersonRelease Date: October 26th I was the girl next door…with a few extra pounds. My job was demanding and kept me on my toes, but when I was deep in a case, it left me little time for relationships. And because of that, I had some complaints in the bedroom. What I wanted was for someone to teach me to be a better lover. I needed someone I trusted with my body without…

View On WordPress

#a rendezvous novel #available now #brothers best friend romance #dating bet #friends to lovers #new release #playboy romance #plus size heroine #r.l. kenderson #rom com #steamy rom com #the c agreement #wildfire marketing solutions

[sandythereadingcafe]

REVIEW TOUR:

WRIGHT KIND OF LOVE (Wright Vineyard 8) by K.A. Linde at The Reading Cafe:

'The character driven premise is thought provoking and stirring'

Wildfire Marketing Solutions

#books #reviews #book tours #Wright Kind of Love #Wright Vineyard #KA Linde #The Reading Cafe

[rahuljangir]

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[globalinsightblog]

"Power on the Move: Exploring the Emergency Mobile Substation Market" 🚨

In the wake of natural disasters, grid failures, or unexpected outages, the need for reliable and rapid power restoration is paramount. Enter the Emergency Mobile Substation Market, a dynamic and essential sector dedicated to providing temporary electrical power distribution solutions when and where they're needed most. These mobile substations, equipped with transformers, switchgear, and other essential components, can be deployed at a moment's notice to restore electricity to communities, industries, and critical infrastructure.

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The Emergency Mobile Substation Market is witnessing steady growth and innovation, driven by the increasing frequency and severity of extreme weather events, aging infrastructure, and the imperative to enhance grid resilience. These mobile units are designed to provide temporary power distribution in areas affected by disasters or disruptions, enabling rapid recovery and minimizing downtime. Whether deployed in response to hurricanes, wildfires, or grid maintenance activities, emergency mobile substations play a critical role in ensuring the continuity of electrical service and supporting community resilience.

As the impacts of climate change intensify and the need for reliable energy infrastructure becomes more pressing, the importance of emergency mobile substations cannot be overstated. By investing in robust and versatile mobile substation solutions, utilities, governments, and disaster response agencies can better prepare for emergencies and ensure the swift restoration of power in times of crisis. It's time to recognize the vital role of the Emergency Mobile Substation Market in safeguarding our communities and building a more resilient energy future for all.

[market-insider]

Air Purifier: Analyzing Market Trends and Strategies in the Global Market for Healthier Living Spaces

The global air purifier market size is expected to reach USD 26.07 billion by 2030, registering a CAGR of 7.4% during the forecast period, according to a new report by Grand View Research, Inc. The market is expected to expand at a CAGR of 7.3% from 2023 to 2030. The market is primarily driven by increasing air pollution levels, coupled with the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic and the rising awareness pertaining to the benefits of air purifiers. Air purifiers assist in eliminating various health hazards caused by poor air quality by removing contaminants, including dust, smoke, and pollen. In addition, these products aid people suffering from asthma, airborne allergies, and other respiratory conditions. Thus, increasing health awareness among consumers is expected to drive the product demand over the forecast period.

Air Purifier Market Report Highlights

The HEPA technology segment held the largest revenue share of over 40.0% in 2023 owing to the high efficiency of HEPA filters in removing airborne particles as compared to other technologies, thereby augmenting its penetration in the market

The commercial application segment is expected to witness significant growth from 2024 to 2030 on account of the growing demand for air purifiers in hospitals, universities, and government facilities amidst the COVID-19 pandemic

In the APAC market, Malaysia is likely to expand at a significant CAGR over the forecast period on account of worsening air quality due to urbanization and seasonal haze, coupled with the increasing health awareness and a growing emphasis on good indoor air quality

In September 2020, MANN+HUMMEL introduced two new high-performance room air purifiers, namely OurAir TK 850, which is suitable for filtering the air in indoor spaces of up to 70 m², and the OurAir SQ 2500, which is ideal for spaces up to 200 m².

For More Details or Sample Copy please visit link @: Air Purifier Market Report

Lockdown measures to curb the spread of COVID-19 and the stay-at-home and work-from-home norms have boosted the demand for air purifiers in residential applications. Furthermore, the demand for air purifiers increased in healthcare and other commercial facilities amidst the pandemic owing to their ability to limit the spread of infectious diseases. New product developments and technological advancements amid the COVID-19 pandemic are anticipated to augment the market growth. For instance, in September 2020, Aurabeat Technology Limited, a Hong Kong-based company, introduced Aurabeat AG+ Silver Ion Plasma Sterilization Air Purifier, which can eliminate more than 99.9% of COVID-19 within 30 minutes.

Wildfires and stubble burning that are increasingly found in the U.S., Australia, and India are some of the key reasons for causing air pollution. The smoke has several health implications such as eye and respiratory tract infection, lung infection, bronchitis, and heart failure. This has prompted consumers to buy air purifiers and is likely to augment the market growth over the forecast period. The pandemic provided an opportunity for companies with higher cashflows to acquire air purifier companies resulting in increased activity in the market. For instance, in November 2021, iRobot Corporation acquired Aeris Cleantec AG in a USD 72 Million all-cash deal in a bid to strengthen its portfolio of intelligent home innovation solutions.

#AirQuality #IndoorAirPollution #CleanAirTech #AirFiltration #HealthandWellness #EnvironmentalHealth #HomeImprovement #HVAC #PollutionControl #IndoorEnvironment