pristine waters


Whitehaven Beach, Australia

Title: This Distance Hurts but I Live for These Moments 

Pairing: Link / Prince Sidon 

Rating: General 

Tags: fluff with a little angst, relationship communicating, sweet with a little sad, fish prince loves a blondie 

Summary: Link and Sidon spend some time together after being apart for a couple of months but growing worries and fears about their relationship pop up and demand to be recognized

Continue reading here or check it out on AO3! Comments, reblogs, and kudos are appreciated! thx! <3 <3 <3 


He didn’t know the name of the gently rolling river in front of him but it was a gloriously welcome sight.

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shut.down.captivity Dolphin hunting strategies - hydroplaning

Bottlenose dolphins living on the west coast of Australia stunned the scientific world by learning how to use tools. Covering an area of 10,000 sq km, “Shark Bay” is one of the most diverse and pristine shallow-water bays on the planet. Protected from the open ocean, these sheltered waters make a perfect nursery for more than 3 000 dolphins.

Using Shark Bay’s shallow waters, the dolphin population developed a unique hunting technique. These dolphins use the so-called hydroplaning technique to catch their prey. As the dolphins swim fast, the water covers their body and allows them to swim through waters, which would normally be too shallow and thus lead to standing. They further stress fish out by not only pushing onto the beach, but also tail slapping. As result, the stressed out fish becomes easy to prey on.

Scientists found out that this unique hunting strategy is, unlike what their first thought, nothing innate, but rather a learned tool, which adults kept teaching hydroplaning their young over generations.

Did you know?
Strand feeding is a rarely observed hunting technique, which is also being used by bottlenose dolphins living in the southeastern United States.

Caption: @shut.down.captivity
Video credit: BBC

Sally Hemings

Born sometime in February of 1773; a forgotten symbol of oppression. Someone who is only referred to as ‘Thomas Jefferson’s Mistress.’ Someone who is referred to, by the few who know of her, the slave involved in a love scandal between the third president of the United States. 

Brushed aside is the fact that she was between 14-16 years old when he, as a 44 year old, forced himself onto her, impregnated her, and only agreed to free the children he sired with her when he feared she would try and gain her freedom while in France. And here is where some people may say she was willing, but since when are people aged 14-16 100% sound of judgement? We’re kids. We do stupid shit without even realizing how dumb it is. 

And let’s not forget the fact that she was also his slave. By the laws of those time, she was his property. By the laws of those times, she wasn’t considered anything more than livestock. So, pardon for the crude nature of this following statement, but… Thomas was essentially practicing a period-centric form of bestiality. I do not, by any means, condone treating people as anything less than human, but by period-centric standards what he did was wrong. 

It sure as hell is wrong now, even more so. Which is why I get so utterly heartbroken when I don’t see her remembered the way she should be. I know so, so many people, fellow children, who are the Survivors of rape and molestation, who are Survivors of abuse and oppression. I am equal parts grateful and guilty for having been born white, but with it comes a flaming passion to do what’s right. I connected with her story. It’s one I can relate to, so I’m going to take this down out of a historic perspective and put it into a personal, empathetic perspective.

If you have a friend, loved one, a child, a sibling… someone between the ages of 14 through 16, hell, let’s just make it be anyone’s game… 

There is a level of heartbreaking pain and disarray that takes hold of a Survivor’s mind. Though it’s different for everyone, it’s kind of like… like you’re ejected from your body. Suddenly, everything around you is pushed into this state of slow-motion. You can’t move even if you try. You can’t cry out, you can’t protest… and even if you could, there’s always that looming threat, if I say anything they’ll kill me. 

This is my fault.

What did I do to bring this on?


Silence is all you know. You can’t fight back. You’re forced to submit. But then when it’s all over, if you manage to become a Survivor and not a Victim, then what? You try and reach out to family, to friends around you. Nada. Nothing. You’re told you should have fought back. You’re told you’re overreacting. You’re told you should have fought harder. That if you didn’t fight, you obviously wanted it.

And that’s a stigma that finds its roots in events like these. Criminalizing the Survivors, criticizing Victims. Our nation is founded on it. Brush it to the side, brush it under the rug, don’t let anyone know, don’t let anyone see how weak you are. It’s like trying to find your way out of a dark forest, but the further you stumble into the light the darker and darker it gets and it’s terrifying. You don’t know what to expect, because you can see everything so clearly now but the world is so much darker, so much colder, it’s forcing you to break, to buckle, to bend, until…


What little there was left, is gone. There’s no sympathy left, no attempts to reach out to people anymore. This is the shell left behind. This is the husk of a person that people try to pull on, to form back into shape. Sure, you might get some response. Some flare of emotion, but it’s… wrong. It’s not the same. 

It’s this sort of mentality that allows the Monster to keep lurking under your bed. To everyone else, there’s nothing there, but you know better. You know there’s something there. Lurking. Waiting. And so you keep your mouth shut, and you don’t tell anyone until your story becomes clouded, the once pristine water that made up your reflecting pool is now murky, stagnant, swamp-like. There’s maggots drowned on the surface, mosquitoes bred in this steamy, boiling vat of rot. 

So yeah. I get a little upset when people think there’s a debate, a “controversy” surrounding Sally Heming’s relationship with Jefferson, because there was no relationship. 

It’s a four letter word disguised as love, and it’s not lust, fuck, or kiss.

It’s Rape.

@of-lams-and-stars and I have spoken fondly of this girl with which we’ve grown to adore, to respect, and remember. It is with these thoughts in mind that we’ve decided to give her an honorary birthday, since all we have for her is her birth month and birth year. 

FEBRUARY 15TH will be Sally Heming’s honorary birthday, and I’d like it to become a day for victims of abuse, sexual assault, trauma, and oppression to come together. We both desire for her to be remembered as Sally Hemings, a symbol of encouragement to fight back against oppressors. We want her to be something more than Jefferson’s Mistress, Sally Hemings. And there’s no better way to honor and remember her than to make her a symbol of hope, of courage, of vengeance. 


Snails are super helpful in shrimp tanks. They are the hero in a successful shrimp tank because they clean up excess foods to keep water quality pristine, and they produce bioload to keep tanks cycled that shrimps lack. I recommend pink ramshorns! They are the albino variant and breed just as heartily. My friend is selling 15+ for $18 free shipping in the USA

He also has frogbit available :) which is great at sucking up nitrates!

7 Tips for Building a Simple Betta Tank

Making your tank beautiful (and keeping the fish healthy and thriving) does not have to be hard!

I absolutely love bettas, and chances are that if you’re reading this, you love bettas, too.

Bettas are known for their vibrant colours and feisty personalities. Because they are so hardy, many people get them as first-time pets. However, to keep things simple while also ensuring that your betta is healthy and thriving, it is important to do your research beforehand. With my experience and research, I’d like to pass along 7 tips for building a simple betta tank:

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Girls Day

So I did a thing… This idea just popped into my head, and this spilled out. Enjoy!! 

(Feyre POV)

I glanced down at the outfit I was currently wearing, wondering if it would be suitable for whatever plans Mor had in mind for girls day. My sweater dress, should be warm enough if there were any outdoor activities, but also nice enough for anything more upscale. She wouldn’t even hint at what we were going to do today, so this was the best I could do under the circumstances.

Mor had been blabbering on and on about today for the past few weeks. She had decided that while Rhys, Cassian, and Az went on their annual drunken holiday, that us girls would have fun too. She had even gotten Amren to agree to attend, how I still didn’t know.

Rhys had left this morning with his brothers, and while I missed him already I knew that this time would be good for him, good for us. We had agreed not to communicate using the bond for this weekend, if we could help it. Being separated from my mate had me a little anxious, if I was honest with myself, and I was actually glad that Mor had invented girls day, if nothing else it would be a distraction.

It turned out that Mor had surprised us all. We spent the day on a boat cruising down the Sidra, it was absolutely perfect, that was until it came time for dinner. We had docked near the Rainbow, and the view was absolutely stunning, as we all sat down for dinner. It had been an absolutely beautiful day, full of laughter and just girl talk. My cheeks actually hurt from laughing so much, even Nesta and Amren looked like they were having fun, which was a rare feat to accomplish and I knew that Mor was proud of herself.

Just as my plate was sat in front of me, a feeling of nausea rolled through me so strong, that it was a wonder I managed to stay up right. Standing, suddenly I turned away from the table and ran to railing of the boat, just barely making it in time to empty the contents of my stomach into the pristine water of the Sidra bellow.

“Feyre! Feyre… are you okay?” Mor was instantly by my side, grabbing my hair out of my face. Nesta, grabbed my arm and guided me to a nearby chair, while Amren stood back and surveyed me with her piercing silver eyes.

“I’m fine. I feel better now.” It was the truth, the nausea had gone as quickly as it started. Mor nodded, “Good. Perhaps it was the rocking of the boat, or the wine.” I nodded my head in response, but knew that was not the cause. The boat was barely moving, and I hadn’t had any wine today.

“Well, if you’re feeling better, is it okay if we eat? Because I’m starving.” Nesta asked from beside me. I smiled at my sister,  as she stood and grabbed her plate from the table bringing it over to where we were sitting near the railing. As soon as the smell of her food wafted into the air around me, that feeling was back, quickly I turned again and vomited over the side of the boat.

Mor frowned at me. “Perhaps we should get you home Feyre, it doesn’t look like you’re getting better.” I nodded again, unable to speak as my brain focused on keeping the contents of my stomach inside me. Amren grabbed Nesta, and Mor took my hand as we winnowed to the townhouse. Winnowing made the nausea so much worse, as soon as we landed, I emptied my stomach all over the hardwood floors. Mor cursed beside, me as her hands grabbed at my face checking me for fever.

“You don’t feel warm. How do you feel? Does anything hurt?”

No nothing hurt… and now like before I felt fine. The feeling of sickness having passed once again.

“I feel fine.”

“Feyre… you don’t look fine.” As she finished talking Amren and Nesta walked in the front door. “Are you okay?” Nesta asked me concern lacing her voice.

“I… I think so. I feel fine now.” Amren narrowed her eyes at me, but remained silent. We spent the next few minutes lounging on the couches in the living room talking, when Mor disappeared into the the kitchen and reappeared with desserts and tea.

“Oh thank goodness, I’m so hung…” My voice cut off as nausea once again grabbed hold of me. Nesta grabbed a nearby vase, and handed it to me just in time. This was getting ridiculous, I felt tears form in my eyes, and quickly wiped them away.

“Perhaps we should call for a healer.” Nesta whispered to Mor. “No I’m all right, really” I insisted, though I knew they didn’t believe me, they remained silent on the issue, and continued to talk a amongst themselves.

Rhys….  I called down the bond.

Fey — re. He dragged out the syllables of my name, his mental voice slurred slightly, with a hint of surprise. Right, he had spent the entire day drinking, and we weren’t supposed to be communicating with the bond. When I didn’t respond I felt a wave of panic, before I heard him.

Is.. are… you hurt?

I’m fine Rhys, go back to your fun. I shouldn’t have bothered you.

You’re never a bother, Feyre darling. His mental voice purred. I smiled, but was suddenly hit by another wave of sickness. I could feel Rhys worry, and realized that he must have felt it through me.

I’ll be right there. Was all I heard before, the room was filled with the smell of alcohol and three drunk Illyrians.

Multiple things happened at once. Cassian and Az were lying on the ground cursing at Rhys, who from the scene in front of us, had apparently not informed his brothers of his choice in sudden departure. Mor, Amren, and Nesta had jumped up from were they were lounging in shock at their sudden appearance.

The noise… smell… and commotion caused me to once again feel queasy, and I grabbed for the vase, vomiting once more. When I was finished I looked up to into the Violet eyes of my mate that were studying me from across the room.

Rhys had not moved since arriving, he stood unnaturally still, his eyes were widened, pupils dilated. The once noisy room was now quiet, as everyone starred between the two of us.

“What the hell Rhys!” Cassian screamed as he pushed up from the ground. “You could warn us next time…” Azril drawled as he crossed the room, giving Mor a quick kiss on the cheek. “Yeah!” Cassian added as he glared at Rhys, who completely ignored all of them, his eyes still locked on mine, body unmoving.

Rhys… I timidly voiced through the bond, but was surprised to discover that his end of the bond had been sealed against me. Odd…

“Rhys?” This time I said his name out loud. It seemed to break him out of whatever trance he had been in, as he closed the distance between us stopping only a few feet away. His violet eyes never once leaving mine.

“Will someone please tell me what the” Cassian drawled rather loudly, abruptly being cut off as Amren shushed him, casting a look that promised violence if he didn’t shut his drunk mouth. It seemed that even in his current state Cassian knew better than to mess with our small friend, and promptly closed his gaping mouth, crossing his arms in front of his chest like a scorned child.

Suddenly Rhys turned taking a defensive stance in front of me and growled at the occupants of the room, his wings shooting out protectively hiding me from view. I noticed that the members of our inner circle instinctively flinched backwards, everyones face one of confusion except for Amren who looked amused.

“Rhys darling, what in the world are you doing?” I asked my voice lighthearted and playful. A snarl was the only response that I received, effectively telling me to stay quiet. “Okay, you need to calm down, I’m fine.” My voice displayed more annoyance this time, but Rhys still did not relax his stance in front of me.

Rhys what the hell are you doing? Calm down I’m not in danger, I’m just sick.

The slight tensing of the muscles of his jaw, was the only indication that he heard me. A sigh escaped my lips. Stupid territorial Fae males.  

Suddenly Rhys turned towards me, his wings spread out behind him blocking my view of our inner circle, who were no doubt gawking at their High Lord’s ridiculousness right now. His eyes scanned over me, assessing my condition. I’m fine Rhys. I sent down the bond while offering him a small smile.

His eyes locked on the porcelain vase in my lap. You are obviously not fine, darling. He shot back causing me to roll my eyes. Rhys please, I think I can handle a little stomach bug after everything we have been through. Just relax.

His nostrils flared as he responded. I can’t… His mental voice sounded strained.

What do you mean you can’t?

I just…

“Are you guys doing that mind talky talky talk right now? Because if not then this is just awkward.” Cassian bellowed into the dead silence of the room. I heard someone smack him across the arm, probably Mor or Nesta, most likely Nesta.

Wisps of darkness, started curling around my mate, as his facial features scrunched together. Feyre, I need to get you out of here. Rhys pleaded into my mind. I narrowed my eyes at him, my lips forming a hard line. No, you’re overreacting, you drunk ass, stop it.

I watched as his fingers curled into a tight fist, but he lowered his wings, stepping beside me as he turned and faced the room, his eyes still didn’t stop watching me as he addressed everyone.

“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Amren’s smirk widened as she glanced between us, almost like she knew…

“Amren” Her eyes snapped to mine, the smirk still plastered across her face, as she raised an eyebrow in question. “Tell us” was all I said. She had the nerve to look confused by my question, but I only hardened my stare at her.

“Tell us what?” Cassian blurted. “I don’t think she meant us, us I think she meant them us” Az corrected pointing a finger between Rhys and I. “Ohh… I still don’t get it” Cassian slurred.

“Shut up you stupid drunks” Amren mumbled, “Isn’t it obvious what’s going on here.” She looked at me then at Rhys. “No” Rhys responded dryly. “Ugh, it really is very simple. Feyre is sick, Rhys is being an overprotective ass for no reason.” Amren paused waiting for us to say something, but she was met by a room full of blank stares, until Rhys suddenly took a step back so hard that he slammed into the wall behind us.


Amren smiled at him, “Yes” she responded. I watched as my mate fell to his knees in front of me and started crying. Crying! What the hell was going on?

“Rhys, Amren! What?” I couldn’t form the words… Rhys what is it, what’s wrong. I sent down the bond as a I knelt down beside him grabbing his face. When his eyes locked onto mine I realized that they were bright, vibrant full of happiness as he smiled down at me.

You’re pregnant darling, were going to be parents. Rhys voice caressed the bond, along with an overwhelming sense of love, shock, and awe. Rhys lips were suddenly upon my cheek kissing away tears I hadn’t even realized were falling, as my mind replayed those words. Parents… a Mom, I was going to be a Mom. Are you happy darling? Rhys asked as he placed his forehead against mine, his smile never once leaving his face.

I smiled back at him, true and genuine I’m beyond happy Rhys. He pulled me into his arms then kissing me fiercely.

“What the hell is going on!” Cassian yelled, as Rhys growled and winnowed us to our room. Tomorrow we could tell them tomorrow.

Coming Soon - new Siren Song Elixirs fragrances inspired by The Witcher - Geralt, Yennefer, Triss & Ciri

Here’s a sneak peek!

Ciri - Water lily, pristine water, smoked vanilla, dogwood, ginger blossom

Yennefer - Lilac, Gooseberries, Black suede, Ancient woods

Triss - Honeycrisp apple cider, Spiced caramel, Honey, Apple blossom

The Hills - Chapter Two

Chapter One | Story Masterlist

Thank you for your sweet comments on the first chapter! This wasn’t supposed to be longer than two parts, but the story kinda developed on its own and I can already tell you there will be at least four more parts. I hope you enjoy! :)

WC: 3543

Warnings: strong language, angst galore, alcohol, tipsy driving (DON’T drink and drive, please), nsfw

Chapter Two: Professional

The next evening I had my second encounter with Negan and I was beyond nervous. He’d told me to meet him after dinner because he was going to be busy all day. It was a particularly hot evening so I decided to wear something less formal this time; I pulled a floral romper out of my closet and paired it with a pair of black sandals. I curled my eyelashes and applied a fairly generous amount of mascara, put my hair up into a ponytail and completed my outfit with a pair of golden hoop earrings.

I got into my car and sped down the highway to the mansion. When I reached the residential quartier Negan lived in, the gate opened, and just like the first time I had been there I parked my car near the entrance. This time, however, the atmosphere was completely different. The mansion at night looked like a whole new place, the massive fountain was illuminated by colored footlights and the garden was lit by the full moon.

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kanotic  asked:

I feel like you pretend to be an all powerful being, but in reality, you're like the witch from the Wizard of Oz. One glass of water and ~sploosh~ dead this is not hate, I just had this mental image for a while and it made me laugh.

Dark’s eyes struck against them, the dark pooling maroon, almost black, of his irises swirling dangerously around his pupils, the black circles dialating in what seemed to be an attempt at remaining peaceful. With his eyes bearing into them, his hand blindly crawled across the desk, where he was able to slide his fingers around the base of his wine glass. In only a thought, he summonsed pristine clear water to resolve itself into the glass, gently bubbling along the sides and resting quietly.

Lifting the glass, balancing it between his fingers, he suddenly tilted it towards himself, and spilled the contents across his chest. It landed against the fabric of his white shirt, and immediately clung to the flesh of his pectorals and abdomen, defining the protrusions of his muscles, all six of them in total, that descended down his stomach. He didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he set his glass back against the desk, appearing smug.

“Well well. I didn’t melt. Your connection is incorrect.”