#it means to make a temporary camp or shelter

[yekokataa]

my favorite genre of sff books? ones that overuse the word bivouac

[dailyadventureprompts]

Calling all homebrewers!

Recently I've had an idea bouncing around my head that I want your help in refining: Building out the exploration pillar of the game by making the party's "camp" into a mechanic that players can interact with by upgrading it.

LOTS of RPGs give your party a home base/camp that you return to between missions and upgrade over the course of your adventure. D&D is no stranger to this, but building a base tends to be a high level/retirement sort of goal, and instead I want the players to be given a set of options from the very beginning. Think of this potential camp system like its own early game skill tree where upgrades can be unlocked with GP or quest rewards, which gives players a very tangible reason to partake in those early game low-stakes side quest.

As someone who's shifting more and more to the "one adventure per level" model, I specifically wanted this camp system to be a way to reintroduce a player driven progression back into the game. Likewise, the camp's upgrade system could give us a mechanical backbone for building out a codified exploration system, which has been something I've been wanting to knock out for a while.

Here's some of the upgrade paths and their uses I've been tinkering with:

Provisions- In addition to generally tracking how long it's going to be before the party goes hungry/needs to return to town, "enhanced" provisions are a consumable that gives the party temporary hitpoints every time they're used. Advanced provision upgrades grant more temporary hitpoints.

Supplies- Need an item in a pinch? Good thing you loaded up when you were last in town. Digging through your camp's supply allows you to retroactively have purchased an item off the equipment list below a certain GP threshhold. Upgrading your supplies means more chances to grab things, and a higher quality of item grabbed.

Shelter- Camping out under the stars can be picturesque, but not so much when it's raining. These items specifically shelter the party from different types/qualities of weather and the passive threats of the environments they're exploring.

Draft- That's right, we're playing with carrying capacity. Rather than making it a problem of individual inventory management, we keep the challenge of managing the party's encumbrance by making it simple and slot based, applying to large or bulk items (primarily loot and the camp upgrades we're acquiring). Pack animals and wagons can add to this total but limit the party's camping opportunities to roads and navigable terrain. Are they a caravan hauling house wagons and trade goods? or are they packing light to travel across rugged landscapes?

Camp Followers- NPC allies and hirelings that act as their own upgrades: a cook that makes the best of provisions, guards to prevent the camp from getting robbed, a quatermaster who ensures that things are packed more efficiantly, a merchant who pays out shares every time the party land in a new market. Having a cast of characters follow the party through their adventures

My question for you dear readers is if there's anything I'm missing. How do you think I should handle the encumbrance system? How should this information be presented to the party in the most efficient way possible? Eventually I want to evolve the camp system into a background for running a proper stronghold, or a ship's crew, but I want the foundations to be strong before I do.

[yellowf1nch]

Warning: Minors do not interact. Sensitive content ahead. Includes stalking, attempts at psychological terror (as a writer)

Herobrine/reader

Note: this is not game canon-compliant, this is more a mix of game (Minecraft) + real world survival situation. Might indulge a steamy part 2. Apologies for writing/editing errors, sometimes my creative eye is in poor health.

You didn't know where it was you ended up. An endless forest, seemingly, but after awakening on the beach, the sole survivor of a shipwreck, you were counting your blessings while sunlight filtered through the leaves. You recall a storm, but not much else other than your name; and you have little more than the shirt on your back, and the few handfuls of food left from your ship's supplies. Not knowing where you were, the most logical step was wandering until you found either a trace of civilization, or somewhere viable for a temporary camp. So, you set out, trying to mind the wild animals as much as the brambles and pitfalls.

There was an immense anxiety that dove from the tip of your tongue down to the basin of your pelvic floor. A kind of unease-- how did I get here? How am I going to make it? What if I don't make it back- where is back? But it remained there, swirling among the acid and the foulness of your empty stomach-- bile and seawater emptied back on the morning sand. As the sun passed its zenith, shelter, and a means of passing the night, began pressing at the front of your mind. You paused for a moment, looking around.

Trees covered the entirety of your vision, though what little space breathes between them the odd fauna would pass into view. It was quiet, and no creatures seem to pass you too closely; for what are you but a stranger to their place, a foreigner to the wilds without name. A faint trickling catches your attention, pulling you from a standstill, and as you glance rightward, you spot the shimmer of water a short way off beyond the trees.

You find yourself on the bank of a sizable stream, trees continuing down both sides of the water, clay wedging between your feet. Aside from the moving water, you can't seem to spot any fish to catch for food.

Deciding to follow the water upstream, you are unable to rid yourself of feeling... lost. Perhaps you never left the storm, still being tossed between the waves, losing your sense of direction. Perhaps you are still asleep, the odd shapes in the corners of your eyes merely the strangeness of dreams. Perhaps... No. No, you'd know if you were dead, right?

...Right?

A bee buzzes directly next to your ear, making you realize how late it's gotten. You look back, your footsteps trailing behind you in the softer sediments and soils. In front of you, a neat stack of rocks. Looking around, there seem to be a few more of the small piles, which makes you very hopeful that you may be near a village or camp of some kind. The river sinks deep, about one meter below the bank you stand on, and a fallen log-- devoid of branches and leaves-- stretches the span of the two banks above the water. There are two more trees right along the opposite side that seem to be close to joining their friend; dead, maybe, leaning at odd angles with their leaves and branches gone.

Continuing along your bank, your feet a bit faster moving at the prospect of greeting a shelter for the night, perhaps a trader who can tell you where you are. A sign standing in the middle of no particular path, just to your left, pulls you to a brief stop. Not a language you can read, so you continue forward, but a toppling sound makes you freeze.

At your feet, another small pile of rocks. Smoothed, as if taken from the basin of the river, set in a square-- five by five on the bottom, then four by four, three by three, then the top few stones you accidentally kicked over on your route. Funny, you didn't see it before. But the sunlight is starting to fade between the lea--- no, no there aren't many more leaves. This... Must be a stretch of dead wood, or left from a wildfire. The sun has no leaves to hide behind, it's just sinking below the horizon. Well, that sign might have an arrow pointing to the nearest town...

Except the sign is... Blank. But, you could have sworn... It doesn't really matter. You are losing what little bit of daylight you have, and you need shelter. Sticks and logs are easy enough to gather, a simple lean-to against a sturdy enough looking tree, and a small fire you hope will make it through the first part of the night.

As the air cools, warmth from the ground creates a moderate fog around you. There's enough visibility out to 40 meters or so, though as the darkness creeps in that inevitably falters to about 10 feet from your fire. Distantly, you hear wolves howling, moans from the dead, and footsteps--

No, no. No one is near. Whipping your head around from what you thought were footsteps just to the right of your lean-to, you take note that you are in fact alone. It's just, quiet. Peaceful, really, if you don't let your nerves get the best of you. For some time, you sit, simply willing yourself to calm as your fire tapers out, and you turn to your shelter for sleep. Dreamless, almost meditative, is your rest, in that a kind of awareness remains around you. Conscious, only just. Walking, branches breaking, leaves crunching, is it you? When you notice dew clinging to your skin (or is it a cold sweat), you awaken, though you don't feel quite rested. It's dark, still, but the fog disperses the farthest rays of light, enough for shadows to be chased from the silhouettes of the closest ring of trees around you, and the sign...

...in the middle of where your campfire was.

Dawn creeps closer, the fog yet to lift from the world around you, and the pit of your stomach has entrenched itself below your feet, sinking down, down, a chasm that swallows you knowing that sign, being there, is impossible. Someone is here with you. It's strange. Bizarre. But if whoever this is wanted to kill you, surely they would have done it last night? The thought somehow doesn't bring you any sense of safety. Instead, you feel... Like if you turn around, you'll meet a pair of eyes not like your own. No, you- you turn, and no one, nothing, is there. Feeling like prey, in the middle of an open field, you wait completely still until it's light enough to set out. You lost sight of the river, and can't hear it, and the fog seems to extend as far as the sky so you cannot parse the position of the sun, or what direction it's rising from.

You find your feet, eventually, and make quick work of choosing a direction and moving as quickly-- and cautiously-- as you can to wherever you will find yourself. Glimpses of... Something... Flash in your periphery. Whatever it is (maybe signs of a migraine) a little too vibrant, seeing as no flowers seem to grow here. And sometimes your feet echo just a little too much, but you're just starting to panic, is all. Right, you're panicking. You're running. Panting. You can't even think to go faster, you just do-- is it enough? What if you aren't? You have to run. You aren't safe. You haven't been safe-- the ship, the storm, the sea, the river, the bank, the forest, the camp, looking around, around, around, around, when the fog begins to peter out.

Sunlight catches on shadows as the haze dances around you. Monolithic forms of land, slices of the world dredged up unlike any mountain you've ever seen. Porous caves weave between the masses, light catching unnatural angles-- but nothing about this is natural. A hand touches your---

No. You look around you, and no one is there. You begin the path forward, again, slower, if not for attempting to more concretely understand what world lies ahead. The fog remains, but is sparse enough for you to glimpse grass and trees flourishing in caves inside the sheer cliffs rising endlessly above you. Water pours from unseen peaks, straight down, down, down into an empty void you've never known to exist before. And still no... animals. No creatures, save yourself.

Is there... some way to climb? Can you climb in the condition you're in? What if- they?- it followed? With little else to do but somehow find a way through this place, you finally make your way to what may qualify as the foot as one of these land masses. The mist still wafts steadily, though you can make out enough details in your relative field of vision with minimal obscurity. The stone cliff face is practically sheer flat, no holds or ridges spaced well enough for you to climb without equipment. Looking left, then right, then upwards, you notice no structures either-- no stairs, ropes, buildings, or other.

It's strange, you don't- you don't quite feel alone. Well, you think someone is chasing you. Maybe taunting you. But it's not the feeling that someone else is there, rather... you look behind you, and for a moment, directly ahead-- not in the edges of your vision-- you saw it. But without blinking, it was like as soon as your eyes fully settled, it vanished. A chill claws its way one vertebrae at a time down your back, dragging over your ribs in some silent, haunting melody. You don't want to look away. Whatever is out there, what or who, you want to see them. See it. With the cliff behind you, it can't come from that direction. Right?

You start backing up, being mindful of the ground beneath you, arms extended ready to meet the wall. Back, back, back, the size of these land forms fully sinking in with how far you have yet to reach them, the forest of trees with no branches, no greenery, receding into fog. Back, eyes trained on the edges of the mist, waiting for another glimpse-- waiting for the glint of blue, of white, of whatever you saw. Back, darkness starting to close you in on all sides except forwards, ground firm beneath you, the slide of your feet on stone. Stone? Wait, you, when did you enter a cave? But, is this a cave? It's much smaller than the ones you saw, this one almost fits you perfectly. And... You weren't- this wasn't-- here before? But--

You turn to look behind you, down a tunnel that doesn't look like the kind that's naturally formed. In the distance, you think there might be some light, you turn back to look out of the tunnel and

See a figure staring back.

It's distant, but unmistakable. Out in the fog, static, like it's always been there, like an image seared into your mind that you cannot be rid of. You blink,

It's gone.

Turning back, down further into the tunnel, you walk as if in a haze. Maybe, if you don't make too much noise, you can slip through the dark unnoticed. Maybe, if you get through this place, you'll be okay. You barely find the need to sit and rest, adrenaline pumping strongly through your veins-- an unfamiliar sensation to you, being hunted. Leaning against the wall, you use it to support you moving, hopefully, to your salvation. Hours seem to pass, maybe a full day. Time feels skewed, what little rations you had before hardly served their purpose. Your head aches, your stomach aches, your legs and feet and eyes and a hand touches your---

NO. Swinging your arm out around you through air, you shout, batting away the contact that didn't happen, because NO ONE IS HERE.

Beleaguered as you are, eyes closing (squeezing tears of frustration from you), your back meets the wall and you slide to the stony floor. Harsh breaths meet your ears-- your own lungs are strangers to you. Every part of you seems disjointed, your mind trying to piece you back together from your fear, your right hand meets your face, your left your chest, and your knee... No. You place your right hand over your heart, your left on your mouth, and, a hand remains on your knee. Your eyelids are like the impervious bedcover, a shield such that what you cannot see, cannot see you. There is no sound but your breath. The third hand moves, fingertips gliding across you up to your right hand, over your heart, and it- it goes-- through your hand, but no further; resting inside it like you are its second skin.

[support-farouq-family]

An Urgent Plea: Help Farouq’s Family Rebuild After Fleeing Gaza

I’m reaching out to you during a time of deep urgency and need. Farouq’s family of eight has endured unimaginable hardship. Recently, they were forced to flee Gaza due to the ongoing conflict and have now resettled in Egypt. This journey has stripped them of everything, including their home and livelihood. Currently, they are without work, struggling to meet even their basic needs, and are urgently seeking your support to help them secure rent, food, and other essential necessities.

Their ordeal began in October when they had to leave their home in northern Gaza—the first area struck by bombings. Over the past three months, they’ve faced tremendous suffering, becoming homeless multiple times as they moved from place to place in search of safety. Initially, they found temporary shelter at a relative’s home in Rafah, but they were soon forced to flee again and are now in a refugee camp near Rafah. As they face the reality of needing a more permanent place to live, they’re met with the challenge of soaring rental prices and an overwhelming demand for housing.

The family also faces significant health challenges. Farouq has been struggling with prostate disease, while his daughter has type 1 diabetes, and both find it extremely difficult to access the medications they need to survive. Additionally, their only means of transportation—a car essential for emergencies and basic needs—was destroyed.

Your donations can provide them with immediate essentials, including shelter, life-saving medication, and food. Looking forward, it can also offer them hope and resources to rebuild their lives once this ordeal has passed.

Any contribution, no matter the amount, will make a meaningful impact and bring them a step closer to stability and safety. Please share this campaign with your network—friends, family, and colleagues—to help us reach this goal. Your compassion, generosity, and solidarity mean the world to us during this challenging time.

Thank you for standing with us. Together, we can make a difference, offering Farouq’s family the safety, security, and dignity they so urgently need.

https://gofund.me/b0c7ab1c

[fengqingyuri]

Disclaimer:

This gofundme does not belong to me I am simply sharing it for those who need it to be shared. Reblogs help a lot please keep this in mind while interacting with the post.

Help Piuson Yaga and his friends raise money for cost of daily living in the refugee camp they reside in.

Piuson’s Story

My name is Piuson Yaga, and I am a survivor—though some days, it feels like I am merely existing amid profound hardship. My story is one of unimaginable struggle, borne from a place of love that was twisted into hate. Disowned by my family for simply being who I am—homosexual—I was subjected to brutal violence. I can still feel the pain of that day when my family beat me, leaving my left hand broken and my spirit shattered. In their eyes, I had become a demon—a curse on the family. I had nowhere to turn; in Uganda, being gay is not just frowned upon—it’s a death sentence or a life behind bars.

Seeking where to go, I found temporary shelter with a friend. There, I unexpectedly found love. However, this happiness was short-lived. While visiting my partner one day, we were discovered by his father. I fled, leaving my partner behind, but upon hearing the news that his father and the community had violently attacked him, leaving him for dead on the streets of Kampala, my heart broke all over again. With search parties looking for me, my situation became increasingly perilous. The family I once knew had disowned me, and I knew I could not return.

In 2021, I made the harrowing decision to leave my homeland, crossing borders into Kenya. I hoped to find safety in the Kakuma Refugee Camp. Instead, I was met with a reality that was even more dangerous. The discrimination I faced was relentless; I endured death threats, physical assaults, and was even stoned by those who believed my existence was an affront. After a traumatic and dangerous few years in Kenya, I finally escaped, making my way to South Sudan in January 2024, seeking safety once more.

Now, I find myself within the Gorom Refugee Settlement in South Sudan, where the sounds of war echo around me, but my main concern is not the conflict outside; it’s the survival of myself and my three friends—Lorenzo, Herman, and Peter—who have also fled Uganda because of their identities as transgender individuals. Together, we navigate the unthinkable: sleeping on bare floors without mattresses, scavenging for daily meals, and facing the constant specter of violence and discrimination.

As the only one able to care for my friends, the weight of responsibility is crushing. Each day is a relentless battle against despair. We have no basic necessities—no food, no bedding, no shelter—just the deep bond of shared trauma and the will to survive. We find ourselves needing essentials as basic as mosquito nets, which, without protection, threaten our already fragile health.

Today, I am humbly reaching out for your help, hoping that compassionate hearts will respond to our plight. We are appealing for support to secure daily meals, bedding, and shelter. We need your kindness to help us rebuild our lives in a world that has been so harsh to us. Your generosity could mean the difference between life and death for us.

Together, we can create a story of resilience, hope, and recovery. Please help us to continue this journey toward safety and dignity.

Thank you for considering our plea. Your compassion can change our lives.

About the organizer

My name is Andrew Mason. I met Pius online last year. I am helping him to raise money for the costs of daily living in a refugee camp. Right now Pius has no mattress, no mosquito net, and limited food supplies. I want to help raise money to get these basic necessities of life. Since funds cannot be raised directly for people in South Sudan, I am collecting the money for Pius and will send it to him via the app WorldRemit.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Truth Hurts

Written for @fandomtrumpshate 2024!

--//--

“Hanguang-Jun!”

It takes a few beats longer than it should for Lan Wangji to turn and spot whoever had called for him; the title is new, and he’s weary from a battle still soaking the hems of his robes red in spite of the cleaning talismans woven into them — he thinks he can be excused the momentary lapse.

When he does turn to look it comes with a strange, detached sort of vertigo as he sees a small contingent of Lan cultivators clearly having just arrived on the field, their robes still a proper gleaming white and not a hair out of place despite their flight that the last few are just touching down from.

(Is this what people feel when he arrives on the battlefield with his own command? Some strange urge in him longs to smear a bloody, muddied handprint across all that gleaming white just to feel less filthy himself, but of course that’s ridiculous.)

Those just arriving sheath their swords immediately – there isn’t a single fleck of blood to stain the blades, so why shouldn’t they? Bichen drips a sluggish, red-black, congealing glob into the churned up mud beneath his boots and Lan Wangji knows he won’t be sheathing his own blade for hours, not until he has the luxury of sitting down somewhere safe long enough to clean and oil it properly.

He pushes the discomfort of the prospect away with the ease of much practice. “Mn?”

“We’ve found an abandoned manor, near enough to walk if necessary. It’s sheltered from the wind and the walls are sturdy enough to maintain a ward without expending too much of our own energy.”

Ah, of course they aren’t stained from battle — it would seem the scouting party that was sent out three days ago to find medium-term shelter for this leg of the campaign has finally returned.

“Provisions?”

“The kitchens have rice enough for all that seems suitable, and the well still runs clear. It will be easy to supplement our remaining rations.”

It’s likely the best they could hope for, and quite frankly Lan Wangji isn’t sure how much longer he can continue like this, sleeping in the open on churned and muddy ground, worried every minute of the day and night that they're going to be attacked again, that he'll lose more comrades in arms just to fight their corpses mere minutes later - though naturally he’ll never let his exhaustion show. It’ll have to work.

“Lead, we will follow.”

The order passes quickly through the small group Lan Wangji leads personally and then further to the rest of their forces, not just Lan but the Nie and Jiang contingents as well, though all under the command of captains rather than their Sect Leaders. Once word has been spread to all who need to hear it, they form up in loose ranks and follow the scouts through the forest, weary ears alert for the sound of more fierce corpses or of Wen troops stopping to make camp themselves.

They arrive at the promised manor without incident, and Lan Wangji spares a few moments and a portion of qi to wash away the worst of his exhaustion long enough to see everyone settled. They’ll camp here for a few days at least to recover now that they’ve cleared the latest round of puppets; to pursue the Wen forces directly is too dangerous with their current numbers, which means they must wait for more puppets to be made and sent to try to force them back from the borders of Wen territory, their only job to hold the line rather than gain the army any extra ground.

Though the respite is as temporary as Wen Ruohan’s whims will dictate, there’s a clear atmosphere of relief as places amongst the rooms and gardens are divvied up with surprisingly little argument.

Fires are lit and the evening meal prepared by the first round of cultivators to have washed themselves, and as the rest bathe and change out of their blood-soaked clothes they come to eat and take over the doling out of the meal to the next round, the first retiring either to their beds or to the first watch along the new wards. Lan Wangji, assured that the camp is running smoothly without his guidance, is about to retire and finally attempt to find a suitable bath for himself when a quiet voice stops him.

“Hanguang-Jun. Pardon the intrusion — this one has a request.”

It’s one of the scouts from earlier, not the leader but someone that Lan Wangji knows personally from his classes that seem as if they last happened a small eternity ago. “Mn.”

The boy — and he is just a boy, the youngest of those who once attended Lan Wangji’s Advanced Music Cultivation lectures with him — holds out his hand palm up to show him a piece of carved white jade, so fine it seems to glow faintly in the fading evening light. The nearest torch staked in the ground flickers in a wisp of a breeze and the carving seems to move with it, shadows shifting and stretching like a simple trick of the eye before the light settles again. It would almost be possible to believe the illusion was simply that were it not for the faint hum of energy radiating from the jade even without probing it with his own.

“We found this hidden in a sandalwood box in the master’s room,” the boy whispers. “It’s Lan, the box bears our insignia and the craftsmanship is unmistakable, but we could not discern its function beyond the sense of some type of spirit lurking in it. This one requests Hanguang-Jun’s expert assistance.”

“I will examine it,” he agrees, curiosity piqued despite his exhaustion. His former classmate (whose name has slipped from his mind like water, but whose familiar presence is comforting anyway) hurries to wrap the carving in warded silk. It feels warm even through the cool fabric, and when Lan Wangji pockets it he tests it with a thread of qi that resonates with a louder answering hum like a plucked guqin string, though the reply, if it is one, feels benign enough to only interest him further rather than cause alarm.

They make camp and rest for four days, but on the morning of the fifth a fresh fight begins in earnest with the garbled cries of swarming puppets surrounding the manor on all sides, and Lan Wangji is no closer to solving the mystery of his strange new treasure. He carries it in a qiankun pouch tucked into the front of his robes as they allow themselves to be harried back toward the main force at a last-minute order from Nie Mingjue, a feint to draw the enemy troops and their puppets closer to the main body of the army that has been advancing towards their position for the last week.

When their frantic flight is interrupted by the main body of the Jiang forces arriving to sweep in like the blow of a hammer against Lan Wangji's anvil — the Wen soldiers and fierce corpses caught in the middle to be crushed — the minor, unimportant puzzle of the jade pressed warm and steady against his chest is the furthest thing from his mind.

–//–

As is always the case in these skirmishes, for a long time the only thing Wei Wuxian is aware of is the screaming of the damned and the piercing cry of his Chenqing adding her voice to the din, the loudest and coldest voice carrying across the battlefield to better call the others to his banner. It rings in his ears for longer and longer after every battle, and he knows that his eyes fade to their usual white and strange silver more slowly every time he fights. Their own disciples hardly seem to notice this evidence of his demonic cultivation, so grateful they are for his help and the power he lends to the Jiang who are so new, so untrained. Other sects aren’t so quick to look the other way on the rare occasions they don’t manage to give him a wide berth, but for now he thinks no one has dared to speak out against him openly.

Well — that isn’t quite true, but to be spoken of by Lan Wangji is an honor in and of itself, even for censure.

He doesn’t know when the Lan forces arrived in this ravine he’s been told to mind. The battle is nothing but a blur of screaming agony — others’, his own, he doesn’t know the difference anymore — and the metallic cloy of clotted, rotting blood in his mouth and the back of his nose. Long gone are the days of sandalwood incense and magnolia blooms on the breeze, but Lan Wangji is here anyway, and that’s truly the most important thing.

The battle ends in victory as battles always do when he takes the field, though Wei Wuxian doesn't ever receive the same awed gratitude for his help that Lan Xichen does, the great Zewu-jun with his reputation for turning the tide every time he appears. It's fair, he supposes, and isn't as if he's here to demand their bowing and scraping anyway. There's only one person whose good opinion he cares for.

“Wei Ying,” his friend, his partner, his zhiji calls, concern barely hinted at in the depths of his gaze. It must not be the first time he’s called for him.

“Lan Zhan?” he asks and finds that it rasps in his aching throat. Clearing it will only bring up stale blood, so he refrains. “When did you-“ he coughs anyway and barely manages to keep the bloody bile in his throat where it belongs.

“Wei Ying, what is wrong?”

Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Lan Wangji is here. What could possibly be wrong?

It’s alright, one of the voices in his head croons, such a welcome reprieve from the screams. You can go to him.

The permission is ridiculous; he’s never been able to truly avoid Lan Wangji, and he’s never truly wanted to try all that hard to do so either. Still, ridiculous and unnecessary as it is, Wei Wuxian is pathetically grateful for it. Lan Wangji is glaring at him, all he ever seems to do these days, but the ghosts would warn him if Lan Wangji were about to kill him, wouldn’t they? Their grasp of time is slippery; they would be screaming in rage as if he’d already died if Lan Wangji were going to run him through with Bichen’s pretty white blade and add to the blood spatters drying on the leading edge.

“You’re here,” he rasps. His next step is a stumble but Lan Wangji’s hands don’t quite extend far enough to catch under his elbows, so he rights himself with an effort. Curbing his tongue turns out to be too much effort to bother with. “I want you here. You should be here, Lan Zhan, ah? Not in some muddy field somewhere else, you should- you should-“

“Stay with me” dies in his throat as he spits out the blood clot in his throat, grimacing around the texture on his tongue and the wet splat of the pathetic little glob in the dirt. “Ugh. Sorry,” he grunts. He swipes a hand against his bloodied chin and tries to smile, but Lan Wangji’s glare doesn’t budge at all and he realizes his pink-edged teeth (which he can only assume are paired with demon-red eyes) probably don’t make for the most reassuring image.

“You are unwell,” Lan Wangji says, the stiffest understatement of the century. Wei Wuxian barks a laugh, humorless and short.

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan. Don’t be silly! Never been worse-“

Better. Never been better. Why the hell did he say worse?

Lan Wangji’s gaze somehow sharpens in the way that cuts everyone but Wei Wuxian, who only feels it like the exhilarating rush of flying on his sword too recklessly for others’ comfort; seeing as he can’t have the one anymore, he’ll just have to content himself with continuing to chase the other whenever he can bear it. Getting close to Lan Wangji is like sticking his hand into an open flame to try to warm the perpetual chill he can’t shake anymore — excruciating bliss.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji calls, and it rings somehow, an echoing gong in his ears and in his mind. He shakes his head vigorously, earning himself another dizzy spell that only passes after he’s taken two more steps forward, thoroughly in Lan Wangji's personal space now but that's allowed, isn't it? That's okay so long as it makes the screams stop, he can go to him-

“Lan Zhan, I think there’s something wrong- what have you-?”

“Hey!”

The shout comes with the smell of ozone and an ominous crackling that still straightens Wei Wuxian’s spine entirely on instinct. It also serves to break whatever strange compulsion has him standing a mere handsbreadth away from Lan Wangji, who’s watching him approach like a hawk seconds away from diving into the grass after a mouse. Wei Wuxian stumbles back a step, and then another, and as the distance grows so do the screams, strangely muted but quickly strengthening again as he gets some space.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Lan-er-gongzi?! Stay out of Jiang Clan business, or else the next time will not be a warning!” Jiang Cheng demands, sneering as he practically spits at Lan Wangji. Wei Wuxian wants to tell him to stop but his ears are ringing and the dizziness is back in full force, his head swimming with screams that can’t actually be there as no one else seems to be reacting to them, and that’s usually a good way to judge what’s real.

Wei Wuxian throws his arm around Jiang Cheng’s shoulders as if to jostle him out of his mood, and he’s pretty sure only he knows that he actually just needs the help to keep standing upright. “Aiyahhhh Jiang Cheng, I started talking to him! Don’t bully poor Lan Zhan, ah? Come on, he’s brought back our shidimei all safe and sound for us, let’s go greet them.”

As far as excuses go, it’s one of his better ones as it’s something that genuinely needs doing, but Jiang Cheng still takes it with poor grace. That’s fine, all that matters is that he does listen, and that he drags Wei Wuxian away from Lan Wangji with no small amount of force.

It feels like the only way he’ll be able to leave Lan Wangji’s general vicinity.

–//–

Wei Wuxian can’t sleep.

That isn’t new, he hasn’t been a good sleeper for most of their lives, but it’s different tonight, somehow. Jiang Cheng lies awake on the other side of their tent listening to his brother thrash and twist in his bedroll like a man possessed, though he’s eerily quiet about it. If Jiang Cheng were sleeping it wouldn’t be enough to wake him, even as on-edge as they all are in the midst of the battlefield, but he’d laid awake for some time after they’d blown out the lanterns, unable to stop thinking about what their next move is likely to be now that the army is together again…and now he’s listening to Wei Wuxian in the throes of some silent sort of agony.

He can't let his brother pass the entire night like this - who knows how many times this has happened when Jiang Cheng has been too exhausted to hear him?

“Wei Wuxian.”

“Sorry,” Wei Wuxian gasps immediately, rasping and thick. Jiang Cheng is off his pallet like an arrow from a bow, crossing their tent in a few long strides to drop to his knees beside Wei Wuxian’s shivering form. He's mumbling, “I’m sorry, A-Cheng, I’m sorry-”. A senseless litany tumbling from clumsy lips.

His eyes are blood red again in the faint glow of the strip of moonlight sneaking in between the closures at the front of the tent. Jiang Cheng uses a flash of qi to light the lantern hanging from the central pole, and once he can see he dares to look away from Wei Wuxian’s gaunt face only to find his limbs wreathed in ribbons of resentment, cold enough to leave his skin chafed and raw wherever his inner robe has been pulled or pushed aside in his thrashing.

“What the fuck is going on?” he demands, but as always his brother won’t answer him; he reaches out with one skeletal hand and the weakness of it scares Jiang Cheng more than anything else yet. Wei Wuxian clings to everything he can get his hands on like a limpet, impossible to shake off until he’s ready to let go and absolutely no sooner. Jiang Cheng can tell he’s using every ounce of strength he has to cling to his wrist, but an infant would cling more strongly to a finger than what Wei Wuxian is currently managing.

“Lan Zhan-” Wei Wuxian gasps and Jiang Cheng can’t keep the snarl off his face.

“He did something to you earlier, I fucking knew it-”

“No! He wouldn’t-” Wei Wuxian’s frantic denial cuts off with a wet cough into his own shoulder, and Jiang Cheng can’t pretend he doesn’t see the dark stain he leaves on his red underrobe, not nearly as good at hiding stains as his many layers of black. “Take me to him. Please, it’s- he can help. I need him.”

“I’m not carrying you through camp like this,” Jiang Cheng balks at the very thought. Wei Wuxian’s position in the army is already tenuous at best, and while their own people are the most forgiving of his new eccentricities, entering the Lan camp with a demonic cultivator clearly losing control of himself and his cultivation is a good way to get his brother hurt before anyone would even think to offer their help.

But at the same time, he can’t do nothing. Wei Wuxian sobs just once, nothing more than a brokenhearted exhale that ends on another pathetic cough too weak to accomplish much of anything.

“I’ll bring him here,” he promises, if only to never hear his brother make that sound ever again. “Jiejie is in the medical tents, I can send her here while I go-”

“No! Don’t, just..just Lan Zhan.” Wei Wuxian’s glassy, red-tinged eyes finally stop roaming around the demons only he can see to fix on Jiang Cheng’s. It doesn’t make him feel any better. “Just Lan Zhan, A-Cheng. Please. No one else.”

“Alright.” Jiang Cheng has never been able to deny either of his siblings anything, really, and tonight is no different. “Alright, I’ll get him. Just stay here.”

Wei Wuxian doesn’t even bother to reply; they both know he’s not going anywhere when he’s curled in on himself in agony, limbs twisted around himself and his fingers crooked into rigid claws tearing at his own clothes and bedding.

Jiang Cheng throws on a single outer robe for the sake of propriety and then, uncaring that he’s breaking camp rules, takes off on his sword, though he at least stays low to the ground to avoid alarming the boundary sentries.

The Lan contingent are on the other side of camp from the Jiang, the entirety of the Nie forces and the small Jin contingent between them. It’s at least an hour’s walk from the inner edge of the Jiang to that of the Lan, only slightly faster by horse and that only so long as the lanes aren’t crowded with cultivators moving between their tents and their duties.

Jiang Cheng alights in front of Lan Wangji’s snow-white tent a mere quarter of an incense stick after he left.

–//–

It’s unwise to ignore the proscriptions for sleep when not required. It’s unwise and more difficult than he’d expected, as well, Lan Wangji's body yearning for sleep even as he forces himself to focus. He’s no closer than before to solving the mystery of the artefact the scouts had found at the manor, but whatever it is it had reacted strangely this afternoon to Wei Wuxian’s presence, and he wants — needs — to know why.

He feeds the carving a delicate thread of qi for the better part of a shichen, but it stays inert in his palm. He’s just standing to retreat behind his guqin to attempt to speak to it through Inquiry when he turns, Bichen flying to his hand before he’s even consciously aware of what’s disturbed him. The hilt collides with another sword with a muted clang, but before he can go any further to take advantage of the opening the clumsy defense has left for him, he realizes who’s decided to disturb him in his own tent.

“It’s Wuxian,” Jiang Wanyin says, his eyes so wide they’re ringed with white all the way around. “He’s asking for you, something’s wrong-”

“Go, I will follow.”

Jiang Wanyin darts back out as Lan Wangji turns to scoop his guqin into the qiankun pouch in his sleeve and then he’s out on the path and stepping onto Bichen, following the purple smudge through the darkened camp, through the white and blue tents of the Lan, the small cluster of gold before the straight neat rows of gray and green Nie. Jiang Wanyin slows somewhat when they reach the tiny knot of the Jiangs’ amethyst tents, many still glowing faintly from within as their owners move back and forth between the silk and their lanterns, but there are thankfully no late wanderers out roaming through the lanes of the camp to see them in their headlong flight.

Jiang Wanyin’s tent is, unsurprisingly, at the very center of the small Jiang encampment, though it’s no larger nor more intricate than those around it to avoid making it an obvious target for ambush. Lan Wangji steps off Bichen and strides into the structure, immediately struck by the overwhelming tang of blood in his nose and resentful energy rubbing up against his spiritual senses even before he orients himself enough to find Wei Wuxian in his tangled nest of blankets and discarded outer robes pulled haphazardly over himself for warmth.

He barely notices Jiang Wanyin’s tense, summer thunderhead presence, his entire being focused on Wei Wuxian looking as much like a corpse as any of the puppets he and Wen Ruohan command.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying’s voice is barely more than a croak and yet still somehow holds an audible smile as he calls back, “Lan Zhan. You’re here.”

He doesn’t say ‘Of course’. He doesn’t say ‘I would come whenever you called’. He doesn’t say anything at all, as there are no words he knows small enough for comfort that are also large enough to encompass everything he’s feeling.

He goes to his knees beside Wei Wuxian and from so close the exhaustion etched into every line of his gaunt, handsome face is painfully clear. His hair is limp and stringy with sweat, his eyes so bloodshot as to appear red, his lips as white as bone. He has somehow still mustered up the energy to smile up at him, tremulous and almost too small to see, but it's there.

“You have something you shouldn’t, Lan Zhan,” he rasps. “Naughty, naughty. What are you walking around with a cursed amulet for, ah?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jiang Wanyin barks. “You can’t just accuse Hanguang-Jun-”

“How do you know?” Lan Wangji interrupts. He has little patience for Jiang Wanyin’s theatrics at the best of times, which this is very much not. “I did not know it’s cursed.”

Lan Wangji stays perfectly still as Wei Wuxian reaches out with one pale hand to brush a fingertip right over where the jade carving is tucked into the breast of his robes. “It’s talking to me,” he whispers, barely audible. He punctuates it with a grimace, and the flicker of his pained gaze towards Jiang Wanyin in the next moment feels like a signal.

“Leave us,” he says, implacable, and without taking his eyes off Wei Wuxian’s ghost of a relieved smile. “I will help him.”

“This is my tent, Lan Wangji!”

“And Wei Ying’s.”

“It’s okay Jiang Cheng,” Wei Wuxian rasps, still smiling with pink teeth. Lan Wangji wonders how much blood he's lost on the battlefield that no one has thought to look for, as it doesn't come from the edge of a blade except for the one he turns on himself with his cultivation. “Lan Zhan’s here.”

Whatever Jiang Wanyin snarls in argument falls on deaf ears as Lan Wangji busies himself with looking Wei Wuxian over for injuries that would explain the reek of blood on him, and he notes it with only the smallest portion of his attention when Jiang Wanyin storms out of the tent in a flurry of anger that doesn’t hide his fear the way he likely hopes it does. On principle, Lan Wangji refuses to sympathize.

The moment they’re alone, Lan Wangji has to brace himself against the weight of Wei Wuxian clutching at the front of his robes to leverage himself up off his sleeping pallet, his breathing labored. Lan Wangji hurries to assist without worrying first that it would be as unwelcome as all his previous attempts to help, but thankfully Wei Wuxian says nothing at all in protest, and Lan Wangji is allowed to curl his hands under his knobby elbows and feel for the first time how truly skeletal he’s become.

“Can I hold it?” Wei Wuxian asks with a glance down at the spot where the amulet is sitting nestled between the layers of his robes. Lan Wangji nods and tries not to squirm as Wei Wuxian just reaches into his robes to grab it for himself, moving with a sort of contained desperation that ends the moment his fingers wrap around the unnaturally warm jade.

DEAD

Lan Wangji jolts, startled by the voice like a gong in his mind. Wei Wuxian stiffens as well, going perfectly still with his hand in Lan Wangji’s robes and his entire body trembling faintly with either cold or pained exhaustion, it’s difficult to tell.

“Wei Ying?”

“It’s cursed,” he mumbles, his blood-red eyes glassy and unfocused. “It’s going to make me…it’s like- like—“

SPEAK

This time Lan Wangji doesn’t jump but Wei Wuxian does, jerking in place like a slumped string puppet suddenly yanked upright. He moves as if to withdraw his hand, but he freezes in place before he can manage it, like something is ensuring he can’t.

“I’m dead, Lan Zhan.”

That isn’t true. Lan Wangji’s entire being balks at the mere idea of it, and not just because Wei Wuxian is sitting in front of him, touching him, talking to him. Wei Wuxian can’t die. Even now, in the throes of his demonic cultivation that’s clearly eating him alive to feed its own unnatural power, there isn’t a world Lan Wangji can imagine where Wei Wuxian’s presence isn’t a part of the very fabric of reality. He can’t die.

Ever.

“No.”

“Yes.” Wei Wuxian’s reply is smooth and even, nearly trance-like in its lack of feeling. “I died, and your voice raised me from the dead for my final purpose in this world.”

That can’t be true, it isn’t possible, but Lan Wangji knows the beloved infuriating shape of Wei Wuxian’s sense of humor.

He isn’t laughing now.

“I wanted revenge, Lan Zhan. I needed it, more than anything. I had it. It was my dying wish, fulfilled. It’s done, I can go-” 

Wei Wuxian is utterly emotionless as he says this; not even the cold calculation of when they’d found him hunting Wen Chao colors his voice. He sounds like- like-

DEPART

Wei Wuxian shudders, his hand clenching into a tighter fist around the amulet. With obvious effort he withdraws the jade, finally, from the folds of silk containing it, and Lan Wangji’s eyes fall to it clutched in Wei Wuxian’s straining grip.

“I’m not one of your ghosts,” he grits through his blood-pink teeth, some life returning to his voice as it returns to his gaze enough to glare down at the amulet to speak to it directly. “Foolish little Lan, I don’t banish so easily.”

It’s like Inquiry, Lan Wangji thinks in a sudden burst of clarity. Wei Ying sounded like those who speak to him through Wangji — toneless, dead voices converted to notes that only vaguely resemble music just enough so that he can understand their dying wishes…what it will take to send them on.

The spirit cursing the amulet must say something else as Wei Wuxian stiffens and grimaces a little harder, but now that the jade isn’t touching him Lan Wangji can no longer hear it to know what it is that’s made Wei Wuxian’s lip curl up in disgust. His knuckles have gone bone-white around the carving that is once again glowing with its own internal warmth, and before Lan Wangji can stop it the shadows of resentment twining like a dancer’s silk scarves around Wei Wuxian’s arms race down around his wrists, slither between his fingers, and disappear in lancing bolts of pure black into the little white carving. Between one breath and the next its internal light is snuffed out, and the jade shatters in the protective cup of Wei Wuxian’s hands.

The world seems to suddenly narrow down impossibly small around the two of them kneeling there together, and Lan Wangji’s voice echoes strangely in his own ears as he cries, “Wei Ying!”

–//–

“I loved her.”

Lan Wangji stays very, very still and stares hard at the stranger across from them, his heart caught in his throat. Wei Wuxian is standing straight and tall in front of him, though he doesn’t seem to realize that Lan Wangji is there. It’s uncomfortably reminiscent of laying on top of a rooftop next to Jiang Wanyin and peering down at the strange demon that Wei Wuxian had become, pale and cruel as he’d stalked Wen Chao across a barren room to finish the hunt he’d been dragging on for weeks — an apex predator playing with his food before the mercy kill.

He’s perfectly still now like he had been then, savoring the final torment without anything else to steal his attention.

A Lan cultivator is standing facing them, there-but-not in a way that makes Lan Wangji feel vaguely ill to look at. Concentrating on the figure feels like it takes a supreme amount of effort, but when he doesn’t focus the man’s face blurs and shifts, his entire body seeming formless beyond the vaguest impression of white cultivator robes. Lan Wangji’s head swims and his stomach churns, but the figure is still speaking so he tries his best to ignore the discomfort. 

“My sweet Zhou Xin…Her family was haunted. The household had suffered tragedy after tragedy, her parents were desperate for help, but they couldn’t afford to pay for a proper cultivator. I was the best they could afford, an outer disciple ready for his first solo nighthunt. I loved her from the moment I entered their home.”

Lan Wangji turns his attention to Wei Wuxian again rather than attempting to focus on the ghost of this cultivator, this Lan elder whose age he can’t begin to guess.

“There had been many deaths, so many petty jealousies that became a string of brutal murders among the servants. I fell in love with her at first sight, wanted nothing more than to help…but I knew within days that I would be overwhelmed before I could safely liberate or eliminate the angry spirits. I had to petition the sect for help.”

Wei Wuxian is still and silent, his hands loose at his sides and his head cocked ever so slightly to the right. He tilts it slowly to the left, but says nothing.

“I had brought with me a parting token from my parents, a carving they said would bring me luck and safety on my travels. Luck had brought me to her, the love of my life. Perhaps it would also keep her safe for me until I returned. ”

“It didn’t.”

In this strange nowhere place, Wei Wuxian’s voice is a tolling bell, the solemn ring of a gong through the mountains. Lan Wangji doesn’t flinch from it only because it’s Wei Wuxian who speaks. The spirit in front of them seems to shrink and flicker for a moment before he can reply.

“It did, for a time. She was safe, but I died on the road, I don’t know how or why. I never returned to Cloud Recesses, I never found help. As a spirit, I could only attach myself to my single earthly possession, in the hands of my love, and do what little I could to keep the angry spirits haunting her family away from her.”

Ah. Lan Wangji’s heart aches in his chest with a sympathetic understanding. He too would stand as a barrier between Wei Wuxian and everything that means to hurt him, if his zhiji would ever allow it. It explains why the carving behaves as it seems to as well, coaxing the dead into speaking the truth of their final moments and desires before attempting to liberate them — as all Lan are taught to do.

“She died some years later, alone in her home, driven mad by the spirits I could not suppress. She has entered the cycle without me. I cleansed the house over time, left alone with the ghosts. Others moved in, left again when their fortunes changed… on and on and on. I liberated all that I could.”

“You can’t liberate me.” This somehow rings even more loudly. Lan Wangji still doesn’t flinch.

“You are the most persistent,” the spirit says with some vague hint of something that may be amusement, or perhaps irritation. His more human emotions are too faint after so many years as a spirit for Lan Wangji to tell. “However, you have died, and to keep living is as unnatural as those you command. You must lie down and take your turn in the cycle.”

“Pretty rich, coming from a dead man.”

“Your desire to live for those you love is admirable. Your insistence on disobeying the laws of nature to accommodate your stolen core and continue to walk among the living is only hurting those you would wish to comfort.”

Stolen core?

All at once Wei Wuxian has gone completely stiff, his hands crooked into claws at his sides though he makes no move towards the spirit.

“What was given freely cannot be considered stolen, ah?” he snaps in the same tone he uses when Lan Wangji is attempting to talk to him about the exact same concerns. “I gave it away willingly, and now my cultivation protects them! You may be older but I have the weight of centuries of death and anger behind me. I won’t be moved.”

“I know, and to have angered the Demonic Grandmaster, with his armies of the restless damned, will of course be the end of me,” the spirit replies, implacable. For the first time since they entered this strange place he raises his gaze to look over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder, straight into the very core of Lan Wangji’s soul. “But your love deserved to know how you died before I could allow you to destroy me.”

Wei Wuxian whirls around, eyes wide, and Lan Wangji finds he can’t stand to meet his eyes and see the wild-eyed panic there. He drops his own gaze down to Wei Wuxian’s hands twitching at his side, an aborted motion towards his belt where he always keeps his new blackened flute that’s become the terror of so many on the battlefield.

“Wei Ying-”

Far from the tolling bell of Wei Wuxian’s voice, to his own ears Lan Wangji’s sounds soft as velvet, not in the least commanding or impressive. It doesn’t have to be; Wei Wuxian shudders from head to toe and drifts a few steps towards him. Not in the horrible, dragging way he’d come to him after the last battle, apparently drawn to him by the lure of the amulet, but turning towards him like a flower to the sun, bending and swaying closer as if he needs to to live.

Between one breath and the next, the sort of nowhere place disappears like it never was, and after the briefest sensation of falling Lan Wangji opens his eyes to find himself staring at Wei Wuxian kneeling across from him, slumped in a faint over his hands still cupping the shattered remains of the carving. He knows he should summon Wangji, play Rest, send the spirit haunting it on his way to hopefully get a chance to reunite with the woman who’d inspired so much devotion even after death.

Lan Wangji knows what he should do, but what he does is reach out with gentle, shaking hands to pull Wei Wuxian unresisting into his lap and hold him close.

“I died and your voice raised me-” Wei Wuxian had said. Lan Wangji’s bruised and aching heart clenches in his chest. He bundles Wei Wuxian closer, a limp collection of bony limbs tumbled together like bones in a shallow grave, and carefully brushes a limp lock of hair away from his cheek, his skin deathly pale.

“Wei Ying,” he says for Wei Wuxian’s ears alone, cracking and heartbroken.

What else is there to say?

Lan Wangji calls for him until Jiang Wanyin returns, a surprisingly silent specter at his side. He calls for Wei Wuxian until his voice goes hoarse, until his limbs have long gone numb under Wei Wuxian’s lax weight, until dawn lightens the strip of sky visible just beyond the imperfectly aligned walls of the tent. He calls for him over and over and over again and hopes for another miraculous return.

–//–

Sending Lan Zhan away from this nowhere place is painfully difficult; sending the spirit away is the work of a few viciously sharp whistles and the pure fury of the Burial Mounds and its wayward ghosts, distilled to its purest form here in this place without physical restraint.

He’s already metaphorically turning back towards the promise of Lan Zhan’s presence so close at hand — he can already feel him, his touch muted as if through a thick quilt but solidly there — when there’s a yank somewhere around his navel and he’s falling

falling

falling…

“One more,” he hears the spirit sigh, far closer at hand than he should be over Wei Wuxian's shoulder, a scant inch from his ear. “One more evil liberated-”

Wei Wuxian struggles against the pull, the grasping hands trying to force him to rest, trying to save the living from his profane touch. Wei Wuxian snarls and twists and bites and whistles banishing music harsh enough to rip the world around him into blackened shreds—

The hands release him and he’s left floating in the midst of…nothing. There’s nothing. No pain, no fear, no softness, no relief, no sorrow, no happiness, nothing at all.

Is that bliss?

Wei Wuxian pauses and wonders what he was fighting against in the first place. What was he fighting for? Something’s wrong, there was something there, there was someone—

“Wei Ying-”

Ah, of course. Nothing’s wrong. Lan Wangji is here. What could possibly be wrong?

Wei Wuxian opens his aching eyes, sensation flooding back into his body in the way he's already come back to life once before, and he smiles.

[newstfionline]

Saturday, December 21, 2024

Government funding bill clears Congress and heads to President Biden, averting a shutdown (AP) Facing a government shutdown deadline, the Senate rushed through final passage early Saturday of a bipartisan plan that would temporarily fund federal operations and disaster aid, dropping President-elect Donald Trump’s demands for a debt limit increase into the new year. The House approved Johnson’s new bill overwhelmingly, 366-34. The Senate worked into the night to pass it, 85-11, just after the deadline. At midnight, the White House said it had ceased shutdown preparations. President Joe Biden was expected to sign the measure into law Saturday.

In Utah, Jesus Models Are in Demand (WSJ) Utah is seeing a brisk business for models who have long hair and a beard who can passably pull off a Jesus look for family portraits and wedding announcements for couples that want to feature the religious figure directly in their pictures. Models charge about $100 to $200 an hour and, with the right look, can retain a reliable side hustle as the physical manifestation of Jesus in someone else’s pictures. Look-alikes find that people expect them to embody Jesus in more ways than the hair and beard. Some models said they feel like a celebrity when they don the robe—and get treated like one too. (One felt compelled to remind an onlooker he wasn’t the real Jesus.) Others said they’ve had their own semireligious experiences on the job.

More Tornadoes (NYT) In April of this year, there were over 400 tornadoes reported in the United States, the single highest count in 10 years. Through the month of November there were more than 1,762 tornadoes nationwide, the highest ever, significantly more than the 1,517 tornadoes in 2019 and vastly higher than the 886 tornadoes logged 10 years ago.

Stranded in Mexico: Trump’s Looming Crackdown Scares Migrants (Bloomberg) Outside a center for migrants in the city of Villahermosa in southern Mexico, dozens of Venezuelans, Colombians and others from all over the world were stuck with nowhere to go. Mexican authorities had apprehended them mostly in the north of the country and bused them here, far from their intended destination: the US border, a 17-hour drive away. The roundup is part of Mexico’s immigration crackdown, done partly at the behest of the US government. It’s helped drastically reduce crossings, but created significant hardship for those making the journey, who face difficulty finding a place to sleep, much less employment. With no documents allowing them to work legally in Mexico and nowhere to stay, they’re left impoverished and at risk of falling prey to criminals. Interviews in Mexico at shelters, makeshift camps and on the streets indicate many migrants plan to stay put for the time being as they seek appointments to ask for asylum, a system critics say is being abused by those seeking economic opportunity. Other migrants say that Trump’s vows to carry out the largest deportation in US history mean they no longer want to go, and are considering whether to stay in Mexico instead of returning home.

A driver rammed a German Christmas market, killing 2 (NYT) A driver plowed a vehicle into a Christmas market in the city of Magdeburg in central Germany this evening, killing at least two people and injuring more than 65 others, 14 of them severely. The driver, identified as a 50-year-old Saudi Arabian citizen, was arrested, the authorities said. They said they believe it was a deliberate attack. More than 1,000 Christmas markets pop up every year in Germany, and have been targeted by terrorists before. In 2016, an extremist rammed a truck into a crowd in Berlin, killing 13. Since then, the police have secured many of the markets with temporary barriers.

As Russia threats loom, Finland’s people are learning to shoot back (AP) Unsettled by Russia’s expansionism and emboldened by its recent accession to NATO, Finland is rallying to strengthen its national self-defense beyond its traditional military capabilities. The popularity of weapons training in the Nordic country has soared in recent months. Few places tell the story of the rise in Finnish affinity for self-defense more than shooting ranges that are riding a boom of interest. The Vantaa Reservist Association, which operates a gun range in a warehouse once used to make sex toys, in Kerava, north of Helsinki, has more than doubled its membership over the last two years and now counts over 2,100 members. “They have something in the back of their head ringing that this is the skill I have to learn now,” said association chairman Antti Kettunen, standing among bullet-riddled targets. “I think that the wind has changed, now it’s blowing from the east.”

Ukraine’s mineral wealth (Washington Post) Ukraine is not only the breadbasket of Europe; it is also a mineral superpower, with some of the largest reserves of 117 of the 120 most widely used minerals in the world. Of the 50 strategic minerals identified by the United States as critical to its economy and national security, many of which are quite rare yet key to certain high-value applications, Ukraine supplies 22. Ukraine possesses the largest reserves of uranium in Europe; the second-largest reserves of iron ore, titanium and manganese; and the third-largest reserves of shale gas—as well as large deposits of lithium, graphite and rare earth metals, according to a 2022 report by the Canadian geopolitical risk-analysis firm SecDev. These minerals are essential to the production of vital goods ranging from airplanes, cellphones and electric vehicles to steel and nuclear power. These natural resources are valued at an estimated $26 trillion, according to SecDev.

Japanese city to name and shame people who break rubbish rules (BBC) Starting in March, Fukushima plans to introduce stricter garbage disposal rules—an initiative which includes using the government website to publish the names of the individuals and businesses that violate them. Last year, the city reported over 9,000 cases of non-compliant garbage. Rubbish is taken very seriously in Japan, where since the 1990s the government has made it a national goal to shift away from landfills, reduce waste and promote recycling. Local authorities have introduced their own initiatives in line with this goal. Residents in Kamikatsu, a Japanese town with an ambitious zero-waste goal, proudly sort their rubbish into 45 categories. Kagoshima prefecture has made it mandatory for residents to write their names on their rubbish bags. And last year the city of Chiba piloted an AI assistant to help residents dispose their rubbish properly.

Syria not a threat to world, rebel leader Ahmed al-Sharaa tells BBC (BBC) The de facto leader of Syria, Ahmed al-Sharaa, has said the country is exhausted by war and is not a threat to its neighbours or to the West. In an interview with the BBC in Damascus, he called for sanctions on Syria to be lifted. “Now, after all that has happened, sanctions must be lifted because they were targeted at the old regime. The victim and the oppressor should not be treated in the same way,” he said. He said HTS should be de-listed as a terrorist organisation. Sharaa said HTS was not a terrorist group. They did not target civilians or civilian areas, he said. In fact, they considered themselves to be victim of the crimes of the Assad regime. He denied that he wanted to turn Syria into a version of Afghanistan. Sharaa said the countries were very different, with different traditions. Afghanistan was a tribal society. In Syria, he said, there was a different mindset. He said he believed in education for women. “We’ve had universities in Idlib for more than eight years,” Sharaa said, referring to Syria’s north-western province that has been held by rebels since 2011. “I think the percentage of women in universities is more than 60%.”

For thousands of Jews, Israel still doesn’t feel safe after the Oct. 7 attacks. So they’re leaving (AP) Leaving Israel is easier, Shira Z. Carmel thinks, by saying it’s just for now. For the Israeli-born singer and an increasing number of relatively well-off Israelis, the Oct. 7, 2023 Hamas attack shattered any sense of safety and along with it, Israel’s founding promise: to be the world’s safe haven for Jews. Ten days later, a pregnant Carmel, her husband and their toddler boarded a flight to Australia, which was looking for people in her husband’s profession. And they spun the explanation to friends and family as something other than permanent—“relocation” is the easier-to-swallow term—acutely aware of the familial strain and the shame that have shadowed Israelis who leave for good. “We told them we’re going to get out of the line of fire for awhile,” Carmel said more than a year later from her family’s new home in Melbourne. “It wasn’t a hard decision. But it was very hard to talk to them about it. It was even hard to admit it to ourselves.” Thousands of Israelis have left the country since Oct. 7, 2023. Migration experts say it’s possible people leaving Israel will surpass the number of immigrants to Israel in 2024, according to Sergio DellaPergola, a statistician and professor emeritus of Hebrew University in Jerusalem.

‘We Just Want Mercy’: A Gaza Hospital Pleads for a Respite (NYT) The last functioning intensive care unit at a hospital in northern Gaza was severely damaged by Israeli shelling this week, according to medical staff at the facility who have been pleading for a respite from violence to bring in essential supplies. Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya, the director of the Kamal Adwan Hospital, which includes the intensive care unit, in the city of Jabaliya, said on Thursday that it had been hit by an Israeli tank shell that caused a fire and inflicted serious damage. The unit was the only intensive care facility still providing services for both children and adults in northern Gaza, he said. “We urgently need repairs related to water and oxygen supplies, but we have not received anything so far,” Dr. Abu Safiya said in a statement. “We appeal to the international community to open a humanitarian corridor and allow the entry of medical supplies, equipment and ambulances so that we can provide safe medical services.” “We have been addressing the world for over 75 days, and yet nothing is being done,” Dr. Abu Safiya said in an earlier statement, issued on Wednesday. “Yesterday was one of the darkest, most difficult and bloodiest days at Kamal Adwan Hospital,” he added. “The tank shells hit the intensive care unit, igniting a fire that forced us to evacuate the patients quickly.”

France’s military is being ousted from more African countries (AP) It’s been a tumultuous month for France and its relationship with former colonies in Africa, as its influence on the continent faces the biggest challenge in decades. Two of its closest allies struck a double blow. The government of Chad, considered France’s most stable and loyal partner in Africa, announced on its Independence Day it was ending defense cooperation to redefine its sovereignty. And in an interview published hours later by Le Monde, Senegal’s new president said it was “obvious” that soon French soldiers wouldn’t be on Senegalese soil. The decisions by Senegal and Chad “are part of the wider structural transformation in the region’s engagement with France, in which Paris political and military influence continues to diminish,” according to Mucahid Durmaz, a senior analyst at global risk consultancy Verisk Maplecroft. They follow the ousting of French forces in recent years by military-led governments in Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso, where local sentiments turned sour following years of French forces fighting alongside local ones in the face of stubborn Islamic extremist insurgencies.

Note: News coverage over the holidays may be sporadic as the editor takes time off. Wishing you a good break and relaxing, inspiring times of your own.

[quaranmine]

Your word-of-god on my theory is driving me UP THE WALL!

Ok, so let me make a timeline here, let me know if I'm wrong at any point.

He leaves his campsite on the 12th for a day hike, taking minimal supplies with him. He gets hopelessly lost and takes temporary shelter under some low-hanging tree limbs for the night.

He finds the mountainside where he fell early on the 13th and, with a pair of binoculars, can see the creek in the distance. Let's say the rangers and medical examiner were correct, and he was heading to the creek because, at this point, he's probably in the early stages of dehydration (his presumed cause of death)

He tries to climb down safely, and we all know how that went. He makes it as far as he can on a broken leg and possibly numerous superficial injuries that wouldn't have been evident a year later for obvious reasons. He takes shelter under the overhang and... never leaves.

Grian reports Mumbo missing on the 16th when he misses checking in.

Grian leaves Colorado and subsequently arrives in Cody, WY to join the search on the 17th and is immediately forcibly subjected to a nap.

At this point, Mumbo has been under that overhang for the better part of five days. If he was already dehydrated, even mildly, before he even fell, and especially if he lost a medically significant amount of blood from any abrasions or lacerations suffered during the fall...

There is a significant probability that Mumbo was already dead by the time Grian joined the search.

Grian never had a chance of finding him alive, did he?

Damn...

OOOO

Okay so your timeline is a bit different than mine. But I'd like to note—my idea of what happened to Mumbo in general is actually pretty vague. It was one of those things where it didn't actually matter much to the plot since it would never fully be known. Also it made me sad to think about LMAO (imagine that.) Actually though? I had a draft of chapter 11 where when Grian was unknowingly retracing Mumbo's steps, it would be intercut with italics/otherwise clearly formatted Mumbo moments. So that you could see both of their stories converge. I scrapped it because I disliked the ~3 paragraphs I'd written for Mumbo and never came back to it.

So, the dates for this can be whatever you want (12th or 13th) since the specifics don't matter much. I think the main difference is that I didn't have Mumbo getting lost as the first step, I had it as the second. This means that I had Mumbo leaving the trail intentionally to get water, and getting lost on the way. In my scenario yes, the rangers were right about him heading to the creek.

I mainly had this idea because of my experiences with backpacking in Big Bend. Namely, it's just....very, very, very hard to bring enough water on a trip like that. So people bring water filters. When hiking the South Rim in Big Bend, you can refill your bottles at Boot Spring (though you shouldn't rely on it having water since it's the desert.) I have done this before. (Pictured: my dad lol)

I figured that Mumbo probably needed to refill his water (Grian stated he left no bottles at camp, not just that they were empty, so he would've brought comparatively a lot for a day hike. So maybe he planned on refilling them later in the day.) I figured that maybe he just....didn't want to completely overshoot his camp to go back to the creek he crossed a day or two before. Maybe he thought his off-trail route was shorter. Maybe he was confident he could find the trail again. It doesn't matter, all that matters is it brought him to the place where he fell. Or maybe, related to what you said—maybe he made this somewhat silly decision because he was already dehydrated.

From that point on, I think the rest of your timeline matches with mine. You are right that they wouldn't be able to tell any other superficial injuries a year later. Actually, I've got no idea if they would be able to tell it was dehyrdation that did it after that long. That's MY idea of what happened. But probably it would have been more accurate for the rangers to file it under a general blanket of exposure/infection from injuries/dehydration.

I can't say if Mumbo was dead or not by the time Grian joined the search. You're 100% correct that it's very possible. The only reason I don't confirm is that I don't know the timeline myself, nor does the timeline really matter that much, since even if he was alive when the search started, it would've only taken a day or two more before he wasn't. And since he wasn't in the search radius....You are right that Grian never had a chance.

But I think it's less sad that way, honestly. Devastating still of course. I just think it's worse to linger for weeks when nobody is looking in the right place.

[salixsociety]

The Autumn Palette for the Healer and Seer

On the bounty of the earth in the waning season.

For quite possibly the last year, my spouse and I have driven about six hours North for the fall semester. We will be here, wintering in the city, until the early signs of Alaskan spring begin to show around graduationtime, and then it looks like we will be off to Ireland for a few years, for grad school.

There are many reasons for me to walk with my eyes firmly affixed to the ground: six hours North, much closer to the subarctic, it is already starting to look like autumn, and there is much to look at in the newly soggy soil. The pushki (heracleum maximum) has felt the beating down upon it of rain shower after rain shower, and begun to yellow and die. Fall mushrooms are starting to spring up, and I know that to the Northeast there is the Pass where every mountain is dark with berries right now. I enjoy listening to the earth take a final, heaving sigh, pushing out the very last of the gifts she has for us to gather, before she finally falls asleep, and we must use those riches to make it through her slumber.

Before I moved to Alaska, I harbored quite the secret loathing for autumn. As much as I knew it was objectively beautiful, and I could appreciate that at times, I knew what the reddening of leaves signaled. The Netherlands is a beautiful country, but where it once boasted frigid cold, enough to freeze over major rivers and host ice-skating races from city to city, and beautiful coniferous forest, it is now drab and grey for the most part. Snow and ice are rare occurrences, and often come and go rapidly. The woodlands outside of the national parks have been micromanaged to the point of intense monotony: there's no winter biodiversity to indulge in, no fun fauna to spot. For the most part, the Netherlands in the wintertime is drab, grey, and wet. While I always prided myself on my attempted love for my home region, when my life consisted of a 2.5 hour one-way commute to school, an extremely stressful unpaid internship, and monotonous grey weather, there wasn't much to love. I am not a city-dweller normally, but during the winters I could only find shelter from the landscape screaming 'flee' when I was surrounded by tall and ancient buildings, beauty immovable and immortalized, unaffected by the changing of the seasons. Only now that I have indeed fled, am I learning to love autumn for what it is, for there is much to see, once your eyes open. In my short adult life, spent in Alaska, I have learned much about death and dying, and one of the things I've learned is that a dying breath is not a wasted one. The gods bestowed us with a soul made up of many parts, to make us inspired, wise, and talented beings. One of those many semi-autonomous spirits that make us up is the ǫnd, our breath. But the ǫnd, or andi, is not just breath, literally. The old ones acknowledged the crucial nature of breath in life, and knew that death was the departure of the ǫnd, among others, from our bodies, our lík. Lík means body, but also corpse, depending on context, because the lík is not a person without the ǫnd, the hugr, the hamr, the oth. Andi, or ǫnd, in that way, doesn't just mean breath, but also life, spirit, force. When the earth breathes her dying breath, it is steeped in much symbolism. Her death, temporary and painless, is not for no reason. There is a lesson of rest for perseverance hidden there, and she teaches it to us by giving us a vast array of autumn colors to celebrate before the cold comes.

Last week, in an effort to not become a sedimentary indoor-person as I do my paperwork, I dragged my spouse along to come camping with me. I needed fresh air, my eyes away from a screen for a while. We drove up to one of my favorite places in the world: Hatcher Pass, specifically the side above Fishhook. I have many fond memories there, and many things still to see. We've climbed many of the mountains there and further North, we've made it to mile six of the Mint Glacier trail exactly four times, and never made it any further. There is beauty in everything in that pass. From the magnitude of the mountains and gorges, the deep blue color of the Little Susitna, to the small details like the gold shimmering in the sand of the riverbanks, and the saxifrage (saxifraga oppositifolia) decorating the rock walls in the summertime. Presently, the pass is an orchestra of fall color, and in such a glorious place, it was hard for me to not to revel in the reds and yellows. With blueberry season already over, the crimson of the various streamside berries was my main interest. Red is a very fascinating color in European folklore, and I can't help but give that much thought as I make note of everything bearing fruit next to our campsite: devil's club (oplopanax horridus), highbush cranberry (viburnum edule), lowbush cranberry (vaccinium vitis-idaea), red elder (sambucus racemosa), rowan (sorbus sitchensis). All bright red berries, following the short-lived season of black berries. The idea that the earth would produce so much red, the color of life, blood, celebration and protection, in the last moments before the snow comes, is wonderful to me. That we are bestowed with amanita muscaria right when the veil is thinnest, that we are shown all this life and spirit right before the resting season. What a reminder of the finite nature of it all. This time of cold and struggle will pass.

When we had sufficiently gathered materials and set up our rather luxurious little camp (we recently invested in self-inflating camp mats... life-changing), we waited for nightfall so we could finally start our fire. I'd been waiting for that moment to come, as it was not only quite chilly, but I thought falltide camping was a perfect opportunity to make blót to the gods in thanks for our fruitful summer. In lieu of a real salmon to offer in exchange for our phenomenal salmon run, we had drawn a ton of artsy little salmon on some nice paper instead. A cute offering, and a solid nod to my development as an artist in the last few months. We struggled for about an hour trying to get the fire going, our phenomenal fire-building skills nearly outcompeted by how wet and humid the surroundings were. I proposed just tossing the offering in while keeping the fire alive with our breath, to make sure it'd be burnt. The sausages were not my priority. But, "no, no," said my Dove, clearly determined. "The fire doesn't have a heart yet." And what profound wisdom there is in that single statement. It's true, a fire kept alive with our ǫnd has no life of its own, its smoke contains no ǫnd with which to carry our offering to the gods. It clings desperately to the wood we provided it with, the life we sacrificed to it, and roars briefly when it feels our breath, our spirit, but it cannot come to life and become a spirit of its own until the fire forms a coal bank, becomes completely opaque, and somehow, in the middle of that log cabin fire setup, develops a blindingly bright heart seemingly sustained by nothing. Every fire that roars of its own volition, whether hearth-made or forest-devouring, has a heart and spirit that makes it roar that way. When that empty space between the kindling fills with light, and the fire starts talking in sputters and crackles to be fed, and fed, and fed, and fed, that is when there is spirit, when there is ǫnd with which to bring the blót to the gods. This ancient and elemental spirit is our greatest friend when Ullr mounts the throne of Asgard. When we stack wood in our hearths and by our tents, and plead deliriously at the small flame we've nursed for it, we are begging for that spirit to visit us. To take our offering of wood and torn up newspaper, to hear our voice encouraging it as it tentatively spreads out to the aged logs, and warm our homes so we may make it through the wintertime. Miraculously, as long as we are diligent, it almost always does. It comes when beckoned, and stays until we cease to feed it, like the good guest it is. We are grateful to the fire, and have been for many many years. Creating a living fire is such an ancient success to celebrate, such a human victory, the joy is universal. We understand we have it to thank for our lives many days, as much as it is a cooperative effort between man and flame. We see, if we squint, our home reflected in the fire. Just as it has a heart surrounded by walls of wood, the fire in the hearth is a home's heart. As such, it plays a crucial role in our fall and wintertime endeavours. When the veil is thin, we use fires for divination, and when the weather is frigid, we use it for sacrifice and celebration. When we perpetuate our culture by telling tall tales during the dark hours, we do it gathered around a fire to fuel our imagination. Fire aids us in most of our endeavors, even if we can't see it do so anymore. Fire, as one of the many gifts for us to use during the waning season, is worth using to the fullest.

Something else I never got to experience in Europe is Halloween. There are minor celebrations for it in the west of the Netherlands, where most American culture was imported to, but east in the flatlands, Halloween is merely a passing mention, maybe a movie night with friends. Halloween starts and ends on October 31st, and rapidly makes way for the Saint Martin festivities and then the Saint Nicholas festivities. Halloween proves to be quite the point of light when learning to love Autumn. Of course, I had always had my autumn equinox festivities, and my harvest sacrifices and the alfblót, and I was aware of samhain, but Halloween as a modern cultural phenomenon is truly intoxicating. Or maybe I'm just goth. Seeing reminders everywhere of the thinning veil, and knowing that soon comes the season for communing with elves, for hunkering down for winter, for chopping wood and living life more meditatively, is taking the edge off that monotony and silence I have come to fear so much. Indeed, while what I can perceive with my eyes is not so interesting, what I can see with my second sight is wildly colorful and worth celebrating. We've taken to calling the week leading up to Halloween 'Holy Week' and are crafting a list of activities and movies to entertain ourselves with as Halloween approaches. I'm also working on a lovely Halloween-themed gift for my spouse, which I will not disclose for fear of them reading this, but it will certainly distract from my sense of impending doom. Since the dawn of time, fall and winter are times of love, community, sharing and celebrating. Most Germanic and Scandinavian festivities around this time focus on coming together with loved ones, enjoying the safety of the indoors and the rewards reaped during summer, and toasting to love and togetherness. Being away now from my family, I too can be surrounded by love and safety when it's most cold out.

Beyond food, faeries, fire, family and frith, there is another thing that solidified my faith in myself to feel joy through another winter. Some weeks ago, for the first time in my life, I saw the Northern Lights as I've always wanted to see them. The nightly bifröst visits the Netherlands on occasion, but generally as a red glow shrouded by clouds. My childhood dream had always been to see the teals and greens of them at full power. It happened unexpectedly and unceremoniously. I had just taken off my makeup and gotten ready to wind down for the night, when my spouse's phone rang. Their best friend, telling us that he'd just seen the brightest aurora, right there in the middle of Anchorage. That he'd looked at the forecast and it was crazy, that we needed to go to the mountains this instant. We debated for a moment, but I decided it was worth the odds of failure. We drove all together to the mountain, and we weren't the only ones who'd had that idea. We spent a solid amount of time there, but only saw white wisps, ones that could nearly pass for clouds. The full moon wasn't helping, the car headlights weren't helping. After some time, we drove back down. It wasn't until we walked into a dark alley on campus on the off chance of spotting those tendrils once more that we noticed the aurora picking up. Thankfully my spouse knew a great spot on campus to sprint to, where we could see nearly the entire sky, and sources of artificial light were few. That's where I found out everything I thought I knew about the aurora was a lie. It is truly indescribable. The vibrancy shocked me. The aurora looks very much like ecstasy feels; like the feeling of seeing everything come together, understanding that everything is itself and each other. Witnessing something so divine, so inspired, so incomprehensibly large on a random Saturday in the city... there is nothing better to fill the canvas that is the winter sky, nothing better to serve as a reminder that magic does not die, and all things end. The reds of ecstasy and life, the yellows of perseverance and modesty, the white of death and rebirth, the teal of divine inspiration contrasted against the black of it all will make way for tender greens, for violets, for pinks, for blues, and eventually for reds again. There is nothing to fear in the slumber of winter but my willingness to succumb to misery. There will be joy. There will be auroras to admire. There will be snow to ski on, there will be moose to hunt, there will be fish to lure, there will be ducks to tend to.

The final breath of the planet before she dies to come back to us renewed and plentiful offers me an array of colors to be inspired by. I will look at them with gratitude and love. I will know my home among the reds and browns like I know it among greens and blues. Winter is my time to rest and recuperate, to ponder, to hone my craft, to lie in wait until the first sign of spring comes, for then I can labor again. Until then, I will smell winter on the winds blown over the fresh snowcaps on the mountains, and I will look forward to looking it in the eye and learning from death once more. ---- If you enjoy my work, please consider purchasing or commissioning some of my written resarch, ordering a reading, or commissioning my art. Click here to see the options. Thank you!

[splashclan-clangen]

Lightgale

more info below, potential spoiler warning! I use these character bios as a way to keep track of my SplashClan game which means that all the information is up to date with the current in-game events, not where I left off with the youtube series

Lightgale was born as Gale, a wandering rogue skilled in herbs who used his knowledge to trade for protection and food. He met Jade, a new clan cat, and their friendship grew into love. Lightgale became SplashClan’s first medicine cat and went on to have kits with Jadezinnia. Despite challenges they were a happy family. Lightgale later had a vision warning against future conflict with HazeClan but Gannetstar didn’t heed his warning which resulted in a terrible war. 

Lightgale and Jadezinnia had a second litter and their son, Thornheart trained to become a medicine cat like him. Tragedy struck with the deaths of Jadezinnia of old age and the deaths of all but two of their remaining kits as a result of poisoned prey. Lightgale mourned deeply but continued his duties as a healer. He considered moving on and finding new love after Jadezinnia’s death but never did as he mysteriously disappeared alongside many other SplashClan cats not long after his death.

General Information

Names: Lightgale (clan name), Gale (rogue name)

Current Affiliation: StarClan, formerly belonging to SplashClan

Past Affiliation: None, former rogue

Gender: Male (he/him)

Sexuality: Gay

Age: 139 months at death (11 years; born 58 months before SplashClan's founding)

Cause of Death: Unknown, mysteriously disappeared (month 81)

Description-

golden mackerel tabby tom with medium-length fur and sage eyes

Traits: Compassionate and an eloquent speaker (elder-aged), loving and an excellent speaker (younger)

Role: Medicine Cat

Relationships

Mate: Jadezinnia (became mates in month 3)

Kits: Clovefreckle, Downface, and Gorgeflight (first litter with Jadezinnia; born in month 25) + Tidalwave, Thornheart, and Algaefreckle (second litter with Jadezinnia; born in month 59)

Grandkits: Scorchpaw, Quietpaw, Sparkstep, Rippleheart, Minkscratch, and Bushpaw (through Clovefreckle) + Streakpaw, Octopussplash, Crestedpaw, Fumblestreak, Lightheart, and Meadowwater (through Thornheart)

Great-Grandkits: Littlebat (adopted; through Sparkstep) + Hushkit, Chirpspeck, Hailtorrent, Splashpaw, Snailpaw, Frostyfur, and Leopardkit (through Minkscratch)

Great-Great Grandkits: Scalekit and Lotuspaw (through Littlebat)

Apprentice: Thornheart (months 65-76)

Romantic Feelings: Jadezinnia and Brackenshade

Platonic Love: Snapfern, Weedspeckle, Jadezinnia, Brackenshade, Downface, and Thornheart

Admiration: Jadezinnia, Brackenshade, and Lightstar

Security: Jadezinnia

Reliance: Lightstar

Detailed Biography

Gale was once a wandering rogue who traded his way through life thanks to his knowledge of herbs. He was never skilled in hunting or fighting and so he was able to use his knowledge to trade for protection, shelter, and food from other rogues or loners he stumbled across. One day, he met the cats who lived at the horseplace and began to stay there in exchange for healing and it was there when he met Jade. Beside the horseplace was the temporary camp for the new clan cats and Jade often came by the horseplace to hunt mice, meaning it wasn’t long till they bumped into each other. The two became close friends right away thanks to Jade’s inviting and friendly demeanor. Though initially, Gale had no intentions of joining the clans things changed when Jade arrived at the horseplace in a frantic manner.

Jade had found and rescued an injured cat named Snap and none of the cats currently in the clans could figure out how to help her. Though there were already three medicine cats in the clans, none of the herbs they were using worked. Gale rushed to help Snap and was able to figure out the specific herb she needed, saving her life. After this, he stuck around to keep an eye on Snap and make sure she was recovering well enough. He eventually realized that even after Snap had recovered he was still needed and he decided to stick around, accepting the name Lightgale, becoming a medicine cat, and joining SplashClan once the rogues were officially driven out.

Lightgale was incredibly happy once his life in the clans began and it became clear to him very quickly that he was able to connect to and interact with StarClan, making him the perfect medicine cat SplashClan needed. It wasn’t long after the clans officially began when things changed between him and Jadezinnia. The two no longer saw each other as friends and they realized how much they really loved each other, deciding to become mates. The two spent a lot of time with each other but that did result in Jadezinnia spending more of his time with Lightgale than doing his warrior duties. Though he had already proven his worth as a healer and had a connection to StarClan, StarClan was very silent towards SplashClan, causing some inner conflict for Lightgale. Aside from that though, Lightgale was still very happy and content with the life he had with Jadezinnia, even if his mate was a tad lazy and tended to slack off on warriors duties.

Eventually, Lightgale and Jadezinnia had their first litter of kits together, who they named Clovekit, Downkit, and Gorgekit. He loved getting to be a father with Jadezinnia but the birth of his kits caused a lot of stress on him. He now had to juggle his tasks as the clan’s sole healer with caring for his kits with Jadezinnia and on top of all of that, Jadezinnia had recently received a nasty leg injury that was struggling to fully heal. For months Jadezinnia fought through infection and Lightgale questioned his own healing abilities, even traveling to the other clans, desperate for any advice to help his mate. Thankfully, in the end Jadezinnia was alright but his injured back leg would never work properly again, though this didn’t bother him, especially not when he had recently retired to the elders' den.

Lightgale and Jadezinnia’s kits were later apprenticed and with Jadezinnia being an elder, a good chunk of Lightgale’s stress was gone. He no longer had to worry about his mate skipping his tasks to spend time with him and his kits were grown up enough that he didn’t need to be constantly watching over them but he still made sure they were close. Clovefreckle, Downface, and Gorgeflight were eventually made warriors but tragedy struck when Gorgeflight drowned in a flood while on patrol. Their family was devastated by the loss but Lightgale refused to let his grief consume him. He stuck to his herb organizing, refusing to let himself even for a moment fall into depression but he broke when his daughter, Downface, was taken away by twolegs only a few months later. He was unable to keep his emotions back any longer and fell into a lengthy state of grief but thankfully, Downface was able to return to SplashClan unharmed a few months later. 

His recent stress over his kits, his mate, and the loss of Gorgeflight made him realize how overworked he really felt and he began to keep a close watch on the kits of the clan, hoping that maybe one of them could be a potential medicine cat apprentice. It was after this when he suddenly recieved an omen, the first omen StarClan had ever sent to him. In his dream he watched as a group of faceless cats attacked and tore down a beaver dam, only to be washed away by the flood once the dam broke. The message was clear, if SplashClan continued to antagonize and aggrivate HazeClan it could lead to their demise. No matter how many times he tried to tell Gannetstar about his vision, her faith in StarClan was already horribly low and they refused to acknowledge his vision as true. In the end, SplashClan went to war against HazeClan and lost pitifully. Though SplashClan wasn’t destroyed, the war resulted in the deaths of many cats, even long after the war's end. 

Eventually, Lightgale and Jadezinnia were able to have a second litter of kits who they named Tidalkit, Thornkit, and Algaekit. Though a tad older, his new litter of kits were born the same month as his son, Clovefreckle’s litter, allowing for the nine kits to grow up together which also gave him an opportunity to watch for a potential medicine cat apprentice. His eyes were initially on Minkkit who was less interested in fighting and typical clan life and was often curiously investigating the medicine den. It was clear Minkkit wanted to be a medicine cat but during the HazeClan war, Minkkit was left behind in camp during a battle and had to be rescued by Orangefreckle. As a result of this, Orangefreckle died which led to Minkkit becoming traumatized by the event and extremely squeamish when it came to physical injuries, meaning he dropped all hopes of becoming a medicine cat. Strangely, there was another kit who had hopes of being a medicine cat that Lightgale had unknowingly glossed over, his own son, Thornkit. Before Thornkit was apprenticed he asked his father if he could train under him as a medicine cat to which he of course accepted. 

He was initially skeptical of Thornpaw, thinking that he only took the position out of pity for him since Minkpaw passed up the position, but it was clear he was devoted to the job and his skepecism quickly passed. Similarly to Lightgale, Thornpaw developed an incredible knowledge for herbs but aside from that was lacking in everything else. His connection to StarClan was faint and his daring and charismatic personality led to him not being the most patient and gentle of medicine cats, even growing cold as a result of his annoyance towards his patients. Regardless of that, Thornheart recieved his full name and was still honored for his skill in healing and his integrety.  

Before Thornheart received his full name however, multiple tragedies struck not just their family, but SplashClan as a whole. Firstly, Jadezinnia died as a result of old age, causing Lightgale to deeply mourn for his lost mate. Only a few months after that many cats in SplashClan died as a result of eating poisoned fish from the river and his kits, Clovefreckle, Downface, and Algaefreckle were among the deceased. He was unable to pull himself together and Downface’s death caused him the most pain. She had such a bright future ahead of her and he had always imagined her someday becoming deputy and now she would be unable to achieve anything she had dreamed of. After their vigils, Lightgale returned to his nest and sobbed to the point his throat went raw. In the end, he was thankfully able to keep working even just a little bit and helped Thunderisle pick herself up from the grief she was experiencing over her son, Curlrise’s death. 

In the following months, he decided that it might be best for him to move on from Jadezinnia. He didn’t want to linger on the past and his grief and decided that if he ever found it, he would accept love from someone else. In the end however, the opportunity for him to find a second love never came as only a few months later Lightgale was a casualty in the mass disappearance of many of SplashClan’s cats.

Fun Facts

Lightheart, Lightgale's grandson through Thornheart is named after him

If Quietpaw, his grandson through Clovefreckle, lived to become a warrior, his name would've been Quietgale in honor of him

Lightgale was the 33rd cat to die and join SplashClan

His favorite food is rabbit

He's currently the SplashClan cat (along with Jadezinnia) to have the most decendants

His voice claim is Milo Thatch from Atlantis: The Lost Empire (voiced by Michael J. Fox)

StarClan Events

He once sent an omen of things to come to Brackenshade

After his death, Lightgale followed the growth of Thunderisle

Though he died young, Lightgale was proud of Jaykit for trying to fight through his greencough

[mariacallous]

When the history of Burning Man 2023 is written, it’s likely Diplo and Chris Rock deciding to trudge for five miles out of the festival site will be recorded as the point the fun stopped.

The musician and actor were forced to abandon their campsite by foot as torrential rains turned the Nevada desert, which hosts the annual hedonists’ festival, into a mud bath. The temporary roads throughout the vast festival site turned into rivers, and people who signed up for eight days of partying and dancing—Burning Man began on August 27—have instead been forced to plod through thick dirt. Many have resorted to rationing food and water as toilets fail and new supplies can’t reach the site because of treacherous conditions.

This year, rain, and plenty of it, has reduced Burning Man and Black Rock City, the festival’s 70,000-strong temporary settlement, to a quagmire. All routes in and out of Black Rock City have been closed to traffic to avoid the ground being torn up by repeated tire tracks. Attendees are being asked to choose between sheltering in place or trekking on foot through mud to escape.

The cause? Extreme weather wrought by climate change, which is resulting in increasing amounts of rain being dumped on the southwestern US states at this time of year. “These sorts of heavy summer rainfall events in the region are expected, as the well-known southwestern summer monsoon is expected to yield larger amounts of rainfall in a warming climate,” says Michael Mann, presidential distinguished professor in the University of Pennsylvania’s Department of Earth and Environmental Science.

This year’s summer has been particularly hot in the Southwest: NASA Earth Observatory called this year’s heat wave “relentless.” That has a knock-on effect on potential rainfall. For every degree Celsius temperature increase, there’s a 7 percent increase in moisture in the atmosphere. “A warmer atmosphere holds more moisture. So when conditions are favorable for rainfall to occur, as they are during the monsoon season, we expect more of it,” says Mann. And when that rainfall lands on the 4,000-acre dry lake bed that hosts Burning Man, it causes problems. The ground underfoot “consists of the sort of soil that easily creates a layer of mud when you add enough water,” says Mann. Campers know that: The launch of the event was delayed in late August because of rainfall from Hurricane Hilary. And research shows that the Black Rock playa, where Burning Man is based, turns into a mud bath in winter months when rain traditionally falls, “making the central portions almost entirely inaccessible for recreation.”

What Is Burning Man?

Burning Man is a weeklong festival held in the Nevada desert that attracts hedonists and the rich to party in a “utopian” community where commerce is banned and bartering is the main method of economics. Of course, you have to pay for some things—like entry, which starts at $575 but excludes camp fees, which can run into thousands of dollars, and supplies, which cost a similar amount.

Because Burning Man chooses to situate its event in the Nevada desert, resources, including food and generators, need to be trucked to the site—a challenge given heavy rain has made roads impassable. It’s this, in part, that explains why Chris Rock decided to abandon the event: In an Instagram Story, he posted that he understood portable toilets couldn’t be emptied, supplies delivered, and extra generators sent because of flooding.

But others haven’t given up. For Anya Kamenetz, who attended her first Burning Man in 2003, the rainfall hasn’t fazed her—or her fellow campmates. “We’re really prepared,” she says, though she admits that the weather’s impact means “you can’t get around the city at all.” Vehicles are banned from traveling around for fear of making the ground worse or getting stuck and blocking routes earmarked as exit routes for when it’s safe to leave. Those who choose to walk around the site can still party as always, but some have decided against doing so. Kamenetz and her campmates are continuing as normal, with some significant alterations. “We don’t know when we’re going to get drinking water—or if—or portapotty services, or fuel, or gray water services,” she says. As a result, they’re conserving as much water as possible. They're not urinating in the portapotties, but on the ground. “We’re not rationing food, but we’re just trying to make [sure] everyone is as thoughtful as possible,” she says. Showers are out—as is dishwashing.

The rainfall began on the afternoon of September 1 around 1:30 pm and didn’t stop for about nine hours, Kamenetz says. “At first you’re like, ‘Well, it’ll clear up and we’ll go out more later.’ But then we were making dinner and [it] was like: ‘Wow, this is going to be impossible.’” By nightfall on September 2, with the ground turning from desert to quagmire, Kamenetz had resigned herself to being stuck on site. For how long that will be, she’s less sure. “Every time it rains more it sets the clock back a little bit,” she says. However, when there are breaks in the rain, the timescale gets expedited. On September 2, people were uncertain they’d get to leave before September 7; now they’re hopeful to be free sooner.

Kamenetz has been surprised by how well the 70,000-strong community has taken the weather’s impact on their party. “Burning Man people really pride themselves on first of all being prepared to confront the elements, and secondly, being cooperative and being in a good spirit,” she says. She has seen a few confrontations between those who are demanding to leave, getting into their cars and making a break for it, and other “Burners” (as attendees are called) who are stopping them, but mostly Kamenetz has seen people accepting their fate.

An annual getaway for hedonists and a particular subsection of the ultra-rich Silicon Valley tech community has always been a bit of an odd sell: Pitch up a vast, temporary city of 70,000 people every year, with attendees jetting in from all four corners of the globe to party. Some attendees of the event have repeatedly highlighted concerns about the impact the festival has on the planet. The event reports its carbon footprint to be 100,000 tons of carbon dioxide, more than 90 percent of which is accounted for by travel to and from the site. By comparison, the Glastonbury Festival’s carbon footprint is net negative, according to one analysis. Burning Man looks likely to miss its 2030 target of being carbon negative.

The climate impact of the event has long been known as a problem. Climate change protesters, including some Burners, picketed the road into and out of the Nevada desert where Burning Man takes place as the event was due to begin this year. Several were arrested. “One of the reasons we did this protest was because almost everyone involved was a Burner, and we saw the potential for that community to be able to make a real change,” says Emily Collins, a cofounder of the climate campaign group Rave Revolution, who was one of those picketing the event.

One Burner has previously written a Medium post titled “Climate Change Is an Existential Threat to Black Rock City,” the city that organizers create annually at the festival. Nikki Caravelli, a climate resilience planner in Sacramento, California, who regularly attends the event, cowrote a memo with organizers in August 2021 highlighting how the event had to adapt to the climate crisis. (Caravelli did not respond to a request for comment.)

But attendees should take note. “Mother Nature is not without a sense of irony, and surely she displayed it here,” says Mann. “What took place this year at Burning Man speaks profoundly to the message of the climate protesters who were shouted down by Burning Man only days earlier.” Mann thinks this could be a liminal moment for those in attendance. “The very sort of unbridled consumption and exploitation of nature that sadly now marks this event is precisely what is favoring the sort of extreme weather that this year turned the event into a scene from a disaster film.”

[technosunenergy]

Solar Home Lighting System in Raipur – Brighten Your Home the Smart and Sustainable Way

Are you searching for a reliable and eco-friendly way to light up your home? A Solar Home Lighting System in Raipur offers the perfect solution—efficient, affordable, and powered by the sun. At Techno Sun Energy, Raipur’s trusted solar solutions provider, we deliver advanced solar lighting systems designed to brighten homes while reducing electricity bills and carbon footprints.

Since our inception in 2017, we have been committed to helping households across Chhattisgarh make the switch to clean, sustainable energy.

What is a Solar Home Lighting System?

A solar home lighting system is a compact, easy-to-install solution that provides illumination using solar power. These systems typically include:

Solar Panel – Captures sunlight and converts it into electricity.

Battery Bank – Stores energy for nighttime use.

LED Lights – High-efficiency lights for indoor use.

Controller Unit – Manages the system's functions and prevents overcharging or deep discharge.

This system can run multiple LED lights and even support small appliances like mobile chargers or fans—perfect for areas with frequent power cuts or off-grid locations.

Why Choose a Solar Home Lighting System in Raipur?

Raipur enjoys abundant sunshine throughout the year, making it ideal for solar-powered solutions. Here’s why a solar home lighting system is an excellent investment:

✅ Energy Independence: Run your lights without relying on the main power grid. ✅ Cost Savings: Say goodbye to high electricity bills. ✅ Eco-Friendly: Solar systems are clean and emission-free. ✅ Low Maintenance: Durable components mean minimal upkeep. ✅ Backup During Power Cuts: Enjoy uninterrupted lighting even during blackouts. ✅ Easy Installation: Our systems are plug-and-play and require no complex wiring.

Our Range of Solar Lighting Systems

At Techno Sun Energy, we provide a variety of solar home lighting solutions based on your needs and home size:

1. Basic Single Room Kits

Perfect for small homes or rooms, this includes 1–2 LED lights, a panel, a battery, and mobile charging ports.

2. Multi-Room Solar Kits

Ideal for families, this setup can power 3–4 LED lights across different rooms, a fan, and USB charging.

3. Customized Off-Grid Systems

Designed for remote locations with no power access. Supports lighting, charging, fans, and small appliances.

All our systems feature long-lasting lithium or SMF batteries, efficient solar panels, and premium-grade LED lights for maximum brightness with minimal power use.

Where Can You Use a Solar Home Lighting System?

Urban Homes with High Power Bills

Rural or Off-Grid Areas

Farms and Agricultural Houses

Holiday Homes and Eco-Resorts

Disaster Relief Shelters or Temporary Camps

Wherever consistent, affordable lighting is needed—solar is the answer.

Why Choose Techno Sun Energy?

Techno Sun Energy is a leader in solar energy solutions in Raipur and across Chhattisgarh. With over 7 years of experience, we’ve helped hundreds of homes transition to clean and dependable solar power.

Here’s what sets us apart:

Tailor-made solutions for every budget and home size High-quality, MNRE-approved components Expert installation team After-sales support and warranty Affordable pricing with excellent ROI

Avail Government Subsidies

We assist eligible customers in getting government subsidies for solar lighting systems under the MNRE scheme. Our team will handle the documentation and guide you through the subsidy claim process.

Light Up Your Home the Solar Way

Ready to cut down your power costs and switch to renewable energy? A Solar Home Lighting System in Raipur from Techno Sun Energy is the ideal choice for smart, efficient, and sustainable lighting.

Contact us today to schedule a free site visit or to get a customized quote. Let’s bring sunlight indoors—one home at a time.

[offpagebloggers]

Durable Protection You Can Rely On: Blue Polyethylene Tarps

When it comes to versatile, heavy-duty protection, Blue Polyethylene Tarps are a top choice for both homeowners and professionals. Whether you're shielding equipment from the elements, covering vehicles, or creating temporary shelters, these tarps offer an affordable and dependable solution.

What Are Blue Polyethylene Tarps?

Blue Polyethylene Tarps are made from a high-density woven polyethylene fabric, which is both water-resistant and UV-resistant. This makes them ideal for a variety of outdoor and indoor applications. The signature blue color is widely recognized and used for its visibility and traditional utility appeal.

These tarps are reinforced with heat-sealed seams and rust-resistant grommets for easy tie-down. They are also designed to withstand harsh weather conditions, including heavy rain, wind, and prolonged sun exposure.

Common Uses for Blue Polyethylene Tarps

Thanks to their strength and flexibility, blue tarps are used in numerous situations:

Construction Sites: Cover tools, materials, and unfinished structures.

Camping and Outdoor Activities: Use as ground covers, rain flies, or temporary shelters.

Roof Protection: Provide temporary roof coverage after storms or during repairs.

Vehicle & Equipment Covers: Shield cars, boats, and machinery from the elements.

Home Improvement Projects: Protect flooring or furniture during painting or renovations.

The affordability and reusability of these tarps make them a must-have in garages, workshops, and emergency kits.

Why Choose Heavy-Duty Blue Polyethylene Tarps?

Heavy-duty Blue Polyethylene Tarps offer enhanced durability with thicker material and tighter weave counts. This means they resist tearing, stretching, and degradation better than lightweight alternatives.

If you're looking for premium-quality tarps that stand up to tough jobs, check out the selection at The Tarps Wholesaler. Their Heavy Blue Poly Tarps are 7-mil thick and built to last, whether for commercial or personal use.

Visit The Tarps Wholesaler today to explore various sizes and find the perfect tarp for your needs. Fast shipping and wholesale pricing make it easy to stock up and save.

[digitalgowth]

Trek Smarter with the Right Outdoor Gear in India

Venturing into nature always feels refreshing, but it can quickly become stressful without proper gear. Whether you’re climbing hills, camping near a river, or just going on a forest trail, the equipment you carry can make or break your journey. That’s why many outdoor lovers are turning to Himmaleh—a brand that understands what Indian adventurers really need.

Let’s talk about how Himmaleh is changing the game with its solid collection of outdoor gear.

Built for Indian Terrains: Himmaleh’s Mission

India has a mix of terrains—dry deserts, wet jungles, snowy peaks, and rocky valleys. Not all gear can handle that. But Himmaleh designs its products with Indian terrains in mind. From footwear to sleeping bags, everything is made to hold up in local conditions.

They’re not just offering fancy items for show. Each product from Himmaleh is made to be used and trusted in real-world situations.

Stay Dry and Safe with Waterproof Trekking Shoes by Himmaleh

If there’s one thing every trekker needs, it’s strong footwear. Rainy trails and slippery rocks are common in places like Himachal or the Western Ghats. That’s where the Waterproof Trekking Shoes by Himmaleh step in.

These shoes are built to keep your feet dry and protected. They’ve got excellent grip, ankle support, and breathable material. Long treks become easier when your shoes don’t slow you down.

The design is not only about looks—it’s meant for real use. Whether it’s crossing streams or walking on steep trails, you’ll feel the difference with these on your feet.

Camping Equipment That Keeps You Comfortable Outdoors

From cooking gear to ground mats, Camping Equipment plays a big role in your outdoor comfort. Himmaleh makes sure their tools are easy to carry, quick to use, and simple to clean.

The chairs, tables, cookware, and lanterns are built for travel. You can fold them, pack them tight, and pull them out when needed. They’re ideal for solo hikers or family campers who don’t want to carry bulky gear.

Everything feels thoughtfully made. The knives are sharp but safe. The bottles are leak-proof. And even the smaller stuff like pegs and ropes come with extra durability.

Enjoy Better Sleep with a Camping Tent by Himmaleh

Tents are more than just shelters—they’re your temporary home. That’s why having a solid one matters. The Camping Tent by Himmaleh is built for comfort and toughness.

These tents don’t flap around in the wind. They don’t leak. And they’re roomy enough to sleep well. Plus, you won’t spend hours trying to figure out how to set them up—just a few easy steps and you’re done.

The zippers, mesh pockets, and ventilation features all show that this tent is built by people who understand what outdoor living feels like.

Tough, Reliable, and Smart: Best Outdoor Equipment by Himmaleh

When people say Best Outdoor Equipment by Himmaleh, they mean gear that doesn’t let them down. From backpacks with hidden compartments to weather-ready jackets and quick-dry towels, everything is made with purpose.

The materials are strong but light. The stitching is clean and holds up over time. And the designs are functional—nothing unnecessary, nothing weak.

Whether you’re going on a weekend trip or a 10-day expedition, you’ll find gear that fits your needs without the extra weight.

What Makes Himmaleh Different from Other Outdoor Brands

There are many outdoor brands out there, but not all of them feel right for Indian users. Himmaleh stands out because it keeps things simple and smart.

They don’t overcomplicate their gear. You won’t find anything confusing. Just gear that works, fits well, and feels right. You can sense the difference in the small details—the way zippers glide, the way straps sit on your shoulders, or how a jacket keeps wind out without making you sweat.

And yes, the Camping Equipment and Camping Tent by Himmaleh are a big part of that experience.

Use Gear That Grows with You

Whether you’re new to trekking or have been at it for years, Himmaleh offers products that grow with you. You can start with basic tools, then upgrade to more advanced gear as you take on bigger trails.

The Waterproof Trekking Shoes by Himmaleh, for example, come in different fits and sizes. You’ll find one that suits your foot shape and walking style.

The same goes for their Best Outdoor Equipment by Himmaleh range—options for both beginners and seasoned hikers.

Great Value for Outdoor Lovers

You don’t need to break the bank to get high-quality camping gear. One of the best things about Himmaleh is that they keep their pricing fair. Their products offer great value without cutting corners.

Even their best picks—like the Camping Tent by Himmaleh and Camping Equipment—are priced in a way that suits all kinds of budgets.

Why More People Are Choosing Himmaleh

Word of mouth has made Himmaleh grow. From local hikers to full-time mountaineers, people love how reliable their gear is. And it’s not just about strength—it’s also about how easy everything is to use.

The Best Outdoor Equipment by Himmaleh gets attention because it lasts longer. The Waterproof Trekking Shoes by Himmaleh stand out because they actually perform when the trail gets tough. And their Camping Equipment just makes life easier when you’re out in the wild.

Final Thoughts: Gear That Matches Your Outdoor Spirit

If you’re planning an adventure soon, now’s a good time to rethink your gear. Reliable tools can turn a stressful trip into an enjoyable memory. And with Himmaleh, you get quality, function, and peace of mind.

From the Camping Tent by Himmaleh to the Waterproof Trekking Shoes by Himmaleh and everything in between, it’s clear that Himmaleh is ready to be a part of your next outdoor story.

[digitalbuzz1998]

Why Every Outdoor Lover Should Know About This Brand

Introduction

If you've ever been on a hike that turned into a downpour, or a camping trip that tested your gear to its limits, you already know the value of solid outdoor equipment. That's where Himmaleh comes in. It's a name that’s quickly earning respect for delivering tough, reliable, and thoughtful products made for real outdoor conditions.

With an impressive line-up that includes Camping Equipment, rugged footwear like Waterproof Trekking Shoes by Himmaleh, and weather-proof shelters like the Camping Tent by Himmaleh, this brand has carved a space in the hearts of outdoor lovers across India.

Who Is Himmaleh Really For?

It’s not just for hardcore trekkers or long-distance backpackers. Himmaleh products are perfect for weekend campers, nature photographers, casual hikers, and even folks who love late-night beach camping. Basically, if you love being outside and want gear that works as hard as you do, Himmaleh has you covered.

What Makes Their Gear Stand Out?

Design With a Purpose

Himmaleh’s equipment isn’t just stylish—it’s functional. Their team pays close attention to the little things: breathability in clothes, waterproofing in shoes, ventilation in tents. This attention to detail can make or break a trip.

Durability Meets Affordability

Quality doesn’t have to cost a fortune. The Best Outdoor Equipment by Himmaleh blends solid materials and expert construction without draining your wallet.

Indian Terrain Tested

From the forests of the Western Ghats to the snow-capped Himalayas, their products are tested on Indian soil. That means they’re built to handle the unique conditions you’ll actually face here.

A Closer Look at the Best Gear

Waterproof Trekking Shoes by Himmaleh

Slippery slopes, rainy trails, and puddle-ridden paths—none of that matters when your feet stay dry and comfortable. These Waterproof Trekking Shoes by Himmaleh are built to offer grip, water resistance, and ankle support, making them ideal for multi-day hikes or sudden weather changes.

Camping Tent by Himmaleh

Whether you’re camping solo or with a buddy, the Camping Tent by Himmaleh gives you shelter that’s quick to pitch, light to carry, and solid against wind and rain. Plus, its ventilation design helps prevent that annoying condensation you get in cheap tents.

Camping Equipment You Can Rely On

From sturdy cooking sets to foldable furniture, Camping Equipment by Himmaleh keeps comfort and practicality in check. You’ll find everything you need to turn the wild into your temporary home.

Built for Indian Conditions

Let’s be honest—India throws all sorts of environments at us: tropical heat, torrential rains, alpine cold, dry deserts. Gear needs to adapt. That’s why Himmaleh designs with Indian terrain and weather in mind, unlike some imported brands that don’t really “get” our conditions.

The Comfort Factor in the Wild

Outdoors doesn’t mean roughing it to the point of discomfort. Think soft footbeds in shoes, quick-dry material for clothes, and mesh-lined tents for ventilation. These small upgrades make a big difference when you’re spending days in the elements.

Affordable Quality: A Rare Combo

Most brands force you to choose between quality and affordability. Not here. The Best Outdoor Equipment by Himmaleh delivers both. That means more trips, fewer repairs, and gear that lasts year after year.

User-Friendly Features That Matter

You don’t need to be an expert to use Himmaleh’s gear. Whether it's color-coded poles for tents or adjustable straps on backpacks, everything is made to be intuitive. That’s perfect for beginners and a bonus for pros.

No Need to Overpack

When your gear is reliable, you need less of it. A good tent, durable shoes, and multipurpose tools reduce the load you carry. That’s another reason Himmaleh wins: it gives you more with less.

Why Buy Local?

Supporting a brand like Himmaleh isn’t just about gear—it’s about boosting innovation in India’s own adventure space. You're not just buying equipment; you're investing in homegrown quality.

Ready for Every Season

One of the cool things about Himmaleh gear? It’s ready when you are. From summer treks in Himachal to monsoon camps in Maharashtra, their range handles it all.

How to Pick the Right Gear

The best starting point is to think about your destination. Wet or dry? Hot or cold? Then browse through Himmaleh’s collections—from Camping Equipment to weather-ready Camping Tent by Himmaleh—to match your trip needs.

Final Thoughts

Outdoor adventures don’t have to be unpredictable messes filled with soggy socks or broken tent poles. When you're backed by the Best Outdoor Equipment by Himmaleh, you can focus on what matters—clear skies, fresh air, and the joy of being out there.

So whether you’re planning a mountain trek or just a weekend getaway, make Himmaleh part of your checklist. It's gear that makes a difference without making things complicated.

FAQs

Q1: Is Himmaleh available across India? Yes, Himmaleh delivers nationwide through their online store.

Q2: Can beginners use Himmaleh products easily? Absolutely. Himmaleh designs its gear with simplicity and ease-of-use in mind.

Q3: Do the waterproof shoes really keep your feet dry? Yes. The Waterproof Trekking Shoes by Himmaleh are fully sealed and tested under wet conditions.

Q4: Is the camping tent suitable for solo trips? Yes, the Camping Tent by Himmaleh comes in various sizes, including solo and duo options.

Q5: What is the most popular item in their outdoor gear lineup? Many users love their all-in-one Camping Equipment sets for their value and quality.

[aluminiumtentsinindia]

Why Are Aluminium Tent Manufacturers in India Leading the Modular Structure Market?

In recent years, the demand for modular and portable structures has seen a significant rise across India. From grand weddings to industrial exhibitions, corporate events to military setups, the need for quick-to-install, durable, and adaptable infrastructure has reshaped the construction and event industry. And at the forefront of this transformation are aluminium tent manufacturers in India—especially trusted names like MM Infrastructure.

So, what’s driving the surge in popularity of aluminium tents in India? Why are they taking over conventional construction methods for temporary or semi-permanent structures? Let’s dive into the key reasons why aluminium tent manufacturers in India are becoming the leaders in the modular structure market.

1. Lightweight Yet Durable: Aluminium is the Game-Changer

One of the primary reasons aluminium tents are leading the way is the material itself. Aluminium is lightweight, yet exceptionally strong, corrosion-resistant, and perfect for various weather conditions across India. This makes aluminium hanger tents in India highly practical for rapid deployment in outdoor settings—be it urban landscapes or rural terrains.

MM Infrastructure, for instance, manufactures aluminium tents that can withstand high wind loads and are ideal for long-term usage. Their precise engineering and attention to durability set them apart in the Indian modular infrastructure market.

2. Modular Design Means Maximum Flexibility

Aluminium tent structures are inherently modular. You can expand or reduce them based on your space and functional needs. Whether it’s a Canopy Mini Tent in India for a small corporate booth or a massive Dias Stage in India for a political rally or musical concert, these tents provide scalable solutions.

This modularity also allows for customization. You can easily integrate features like lighting rigs, air conditioning systems, and even soundproofing elements within the structure.

3. Quick Installation and Dismantling

Time is money—especially in event management and industrial applications. Aluminium tents shine in scenarios where fast setup and teardown are essential. With experienced teams like MM Infrastructure, even large-scale platform stage in India or event stage different sizes in India can be installed within hours.

These quick turnarounds eliminate the need for prolonged construction work, reduce labor costs, and keep timelines tight—making aluminium tents a preferred option over traditional setups.

4. A Cost-Efficient Choice: Understanding the Pricing

Another crucial factor contributing to the rise of aluminium tents is their cost-effectiveness. While the aluminium tent hanger price in India varies depending on size, type, and customization, they generally prove to be more economical than building fixed structures for temporary use.

MM Infrastructure offers a transparent pricing model tailored to your specific needs. Whether you’re looking for a standard aluminium hanger tent in India or a fully-loaded custom setup, they deliver value that justifies every rupee.

Plus, the reusability of these structures further brings down long-term costs, especially for event planners and businesses that need them frequently.

5. Versatility Across Applications

From exhibitions and weddings to industrial storage and military camps, aluminium tents cater to a wide spectrum of applications. Here’s a quick look at how they’re being used:

Corporate Events: Stylish aluminium stage in India options give businesses a sleek platform for launches, presentations, and exhibitions.

Weddings and Festivals: Aesthetic custom tents that match the occasion's grandeur.

Storage & Warehousing: Temporary storage units with ample space and protection from the elements.

Medical & Emergency Use: Quick deployment for health camps or emergency shelters during disasters.

Public Gatherings: Strong mojo barricade in India and lattice truss in India setups for crowd management and lighting/sound support.

No matter the event or industry, aluminium tents are adaptable and efficient.

6. Enhanced Safety and Stability

Safety is non-negotiable when it comes to building any structure—even a temporary one. With components like roofing MS iron trusses in India, stage jack adjustable systems in India, and precision-built lattice trusses, aluminium tents offer robust stability and meet structural safety standards.

Manufacturers like MM Infrastructure use high-quality materials and rigorous testing processes to ensure that each tent can endure challenging weather conditions and heavy loads.

Whether it’s a concert, trade show, or warehouse application, you can rest assured that the structure won’t just look good—it’ll be safe too.

7. Event-Ready Structures: From Stage to Barricade

In the event industry, having a complete solution from one vendor is a big plus. MM Infrastructure not only delivers aluminium tents in India, but also a wide range of event accessories such as:

Platform stage in India

Aluminium stage in India

Dias stage in India

Mojo barricade in India

Lattice truss in India

Stage jack adjustable system in India

With all these components available under one roof, organizing events becomes hassle-free. Clients don’t need to deal with multiple vendors for their staging, barricading, roofing, and trussing needs.

8. Environmentally Friendly and Reusable

Aluminium tents are not just practical—they’re also an eco-conscious choice. Since aluminium is 100% recyclable and reusable, these structures significantly reduce the environmental impact associated with temporary constructions.

Instead of constructing concrete stages or wooden platforms that generate waste, aluminium hanger tents in India offer a more sustainable alternative that can be reused across multiple events and locations.

9. Innovation in Design and Technology

Modern aluminium tent manufacturers in India like MM Infrastructure are continuously upgrading their designs with innovation in both aesthetics and functionality. From sleek modular joints to high-load-bearing frames and smart integration systems, the evolution of these structures is ongoing.

You’ll now find tents with advanced roofing, integrated LED systems, and compatibility with smart audio-visual equipment—all while maintaining ease of transport and installation.

10. Reliable Support and Nationwide Availability

One of the key benefits of choosing a reliable manufacturer like MM Infrastructure is their comprehensive customer support and wide operational reach across India. Whether you're in Mumbai, Delhi, Bhubaneswar, or a remote location, you can count on their team to deliver, install, and maintain your aluminium tent hanger in India seamlessly.

Their after-sales service, customization support, and consistent quality make them one of the most trusted names in the business.

Final Thoughts: The Future Is Modular

The rise of aluminium tent manufacturers in India is no accident. With growing demand for flexible, fast, and eco-friendly infrastructure, the shift towards modular systems is only going to accelerate. From roofing MS iron trusses to event stage different sizes in India, the entire modular segment is being redefined by aluminium.

If you're looking for a smart, reliable, and cost-effective modular structure—be it for events, storage, or industrial use—MM Infrastructure is your go-to partner. Their quality workmanship, versatile solutions, and pan-India reach make them a leader in this evolving market.