To all my witches out there excited for the Summer Solstice, here’s some fun ideas to get ready to celebrate the actual longest day of your year.
SUN TEA: This stuff is the shit for witches that enjoy ice tea. Really easy to make as well. All you need is a closed container, water, and some tea bags/loose tea leaves in a holder. Add the water and the tea leaves, and leave it out in sun for at least 5 hours.
I say closed container because I don’t want bacteria to grow in your tea. SAFETY FIRST PLEASE. The best part about this, is you can flavor it however you want. You believe lemon, jasmine, and some other item I can’t think off the top of my head should go into the tea; just toss it in. Please, please, PLEASE be careful what you put in your tea, I don’t want food poisoning or anything else to happen to you.
Use it to capture the sun and its essence. Hold the sun in your hands. Enjoy the warmth that it provides you.
FLOWER CROWNS: Flowers, their entire reason to live is for the sun. The best way to represent the sun is the way to show their work. A simple flower has more impact than you can think.
BEES OR MORE SPECIFICALLY HONEY: Yup, what’s better than flowers, but the workers who spend their lives servicing the sun and it’s works of art. Help the bees by supporting your local farmers and buy some local honey from your grocery store. Gets some bees wax and make some candles. SUPPORT👏OUR👏BEES👏
YOURSELF: Yup, I’m a low budget bitch. So everyone let’s wake our lazy asses up before the sun and welcome it. Do yoga, sun tan, enjoy a nice breakfast, enjoy a facial, anything else you can think of. Walk around and reflect the sun. Wake up to see the sun and stay late to watch the sun set. Be joyful, and happy. You are the best way to worship the sun.
There are many other ways that I’m leaving out. Bonfires, honey cakes, homemade (non)alcoholic mead, so many other ways to celebrate the summer solstice. There are many ways to celebrate the sun and the life it gives, and this is a great opportunity for the sun and the fire to shine. Happy Litha everyone.
((also its the 21st of June in 2017 in case no one knows))
@ Louis Tomlinson’s Team, since there seems to be a second single in the works, how about you do the following things too:
1. Fix that website. No one has even received a confirmation that they’ve signed up for the newsletter.
2. Use his full name for his Instagram account.
3. Actually do advanced promo for Louis the artist. Highlight his skills as a singer-songwriter. Talk about all the great things about Louis - that things that make him unique, likeable and relatable.
4. A photoshoot for Solo Louis, one that will produce photos that be used for a cohesive online and press aesthetic. EVERYTHING NEEDS TO BE UPDATED. p.s. Plenty of beauty shots of Louis in gorgeous clothes won’t hurt, I promise you.
5. Line up those full-length interviews and features for Louis. We want to see him profiled in the best publications.
6. Create promotional opportunities for him that go beyond radio and press interviews, and tv/radio performances. The man can act and host - give him those platforms too. SHOW HIM OFF.
7. Give him the rebrand he so deserves, and the PR he needs. Create a wave of media and industry support for him - be vocal and be public about it!
8. Be the best, most cohesive, creative. supportive and highly professional team you can be for him.
9. END IT. END IT. END IT. Set him free from the stunts that do nothing for him - every single one of them.
Today has been an awful day. Can you doodle something cute for me to help me feel better?
Dear sweet anon, I wanted to make you a really nice piece of art, but I’m so sleepy that I keep doing that silly lil head-bounce thing. You know the one.
So here is a sketch of a smol chibi Host to cheer you up.
I think I’m gonna make an “honorable mentions” section on the Markiplier Positivity Pieces page, because this definitely doesn’t count as one, but it’s Mark related AND positive, so, y’know. If someone was like, “I just want to hecking see some Mark stuff that makes me happy,” it’s all in one place.
I’m sleepy babbling now. Sorry, lovely.
I do hope you have a better day, and if not, I hope you have the courage to believe that better days will come.
(I’m also going to tag @markired here, because I know they love this lil cinnamon bun. The more people I can maybe make smile, the better!)
How the hell is Ava gonna fight Titan if he's so huge? He was more than twice Wrathia's height in the flashback!
This is Titan’s size comparative to Wrathia and Pedri:
This is Ava compared to Wrathia:
We know that TiTAN not only has black hole technology, but he also can feel and sense immense spouts of power just as he felt Ava’s attack. I sense a great disturbance in the Force lol. This guy is immensly powerful.
It will take the combined abilities of all the hosts to defeat TiTAN. I had hoped that would not be the case, but a combined effort seems more and more crucial. I have a feeling not all the hosts and their demons will jumping on the band wagon though…. I’ve actually theorized that a host could become a secondary antagonist (let us see)
I believe potentially the enlistment of his other enemies could be of great use too. It is unclear whether the Silent Scavengers are 100% TiTANs enemy. If they are aligned with the Arrow family then having them would be great since they harbor the capabilities to destroy and harvest planets, the only issue is they seem morally debased and self reliant (chaotic neutral).
I also find the idea of Wrathia being a known enemy as comforting; this could imply that others worship Wrathia and the Vengess like gods. Six recognizing Wrathia establishes some legitimacy to this rebellion
You could argue that this was simply Wrathia being vain, but then at one point upon seeing Wrathia’s statue Odin utters in his native tongue, ‘Goddess Mother’
His reaction is a mixture of disbelief but he also seems oddly happy ?
Final statement: Ava destroying a portion of HQ will send a message out to the galaxy. It makes it clear that there is hope and the potential to resist TiTAN is there. I can see TiTAN trying to cover this up and hunt down the hosts, but that too will have consequences. The next host we’ll be meeting is Star Guy, I wonder if he’ll know of the cause and be willing to join.
The Ouran Host Club is where the school’s handsomest boys with too much time on their hands entertain young ladies who also have way too much time on their hands. Just think of it as Ouran Academy’s elegant playground for the super rich and beautiful. ❞
Host: Linn. Linn. Hi. So great. We’re not used to seeing you like this.
Rakel: No. That’s what I was thinking. I felt like I needed to bring the guns, like.
Host: And you really did. You look totally gorgeous. How is it for you, now that Skam is getting close to the end?
Rakel: It’s a little weird, feels a little empty, but also okay too.
Host: We’ve asked the listeners out there if they have any questions for you. And we got a question saying: could there be a spin off with kollektivet with eskild and linn? What do you think about that.
Rakel: I’m thinking.. I’ve become more and more fond of my character. In the beginning it was kind of a bummer, you know. You’re gonna be on TV, you finally get to do some acting. I’ve never done that before, and what do I get to act. Almost dead?
Host: But people love you!
Rakel: I’ve become really fond of Linn and now it’s almost sad not getting to be that character anymore.
Host: Everyone has a Linn in their life.
Rakel: I think everyone has a small Linn inside themselves
Host: You think so?
Host: If you weren’t Linn, what character would you be?
Rakel: Good question. I think maybe Noora. I think she’s cool. She’s cool and reflected (we don’t know what she means here lol).
I would like for you to tell stupid tourist stories? Your story-telling style is very engaging.
First of all, thank you very much!
Since flattery will get you pretty much anywhere, allow me to tell you The Tale Of Jar-Jar.
The First year my family moved to Colorado, my family decided to take the annual summer camping trip to Yellowstone, now that we were on the right side of the rockies for it. So we pile into the car with all my mom’s immortal camping gear from the 70′s (srsly, I still have the Colemann stove and cooler. They work perfect) and Cody,The Gentleman Shepherd.
Due to Wyoming looking mostly like the ugly parts of Mad Max, we got onto the wrong highway and arrived after dark. Cody waited patiently in the backseat rather than set up in the rain. Gentlemanly.
The next morning, Mom is doing something miraculous with the Colemann and there is a breakfast of pancakes, eggs and bacon. The sun is shining. The birds are singing. All is serene and beautiful.
Then the people in the next site pull up. They arrive in a Brand-spanking new Ford Pickup towing a trailer that looks like it was salvaged of a 50′s atomic test field. The Husband emerges first and…
I don’t like judging people based on appearance but Man, when a dude walks out of a pickup wearing a confederate flag hat, and half of a mullet one tends to make assumptions.
The eldest child came out next, a boy of about 12, with a rat-tail. Followed by his brother, a boy of about 10, with a rat-tail Followed by his brother, a boy of about 8, with a rat-tail. Followed by his brother, a boy of about 6, with a rat-tail. Followed by his brother, a boy of about 4, with a rat-tail.
The wife finally emerges, looking like death warmed over and carrying a boy of about two, with a rat-tail. It is unclear if she has poor posture or if she is pregnant again. The Boys capable of standing all immediately do so at the border of our site, staring covetously at my bacon.
Finally, with a loud plop and wheezing noise, comes thier dog, for a given value of dog. Pugs are not terribly healthy-looking creatures at the best of times, but this poor thing looked like the canine equivalent of a Hapsburg. One eye was so bulged as to be permanently wall-eyed, and his jaw jutted out in front of him at a distressingly kapakahi angle.
“C’mere Jar-Jar!” hollers the Husband.
“Good God.” muttered my father.
The adults proved over the course of the next hour to be loathsome creatures- Husband was constant’y screaming at the boys the “fuckin’ get me the thing, you little-” then getting mad when asked for clarification on ‘which thing?’. The Wife was a non-stop stream of complaint- the sun is too hot, the shade is too cold, the tent is too far, the birds are too loud, and everything is awful, I’m going to complain to the ranger. Eventually they got their camp set up, and Husband cracked his first beer of the day as we finished locking the bear box and leaving to hike. It was about 10 AM.
We return some hours later to a very animated discussion between Wife and the Camp Supervisor about “I have rights you know!” vs. “Ma’am, we are under an extreme fire danger warning, and Fireworks have been banned in the park for ages.” Jar-Jar, eager to avoid any outbursts, has scuttled under our bear box, wheezing in agitation. Cody, ever gallant, positions himself between Jar-Jar and his mistress, doing his best impression of a Real Shepherd Who Isn’t Scared of Mice and Snowflakes. Husband is unseen, but there are several beer cans in the fire grate.
That evening’s campfire, normally a time to listen to nocturnal wildlife and the Quiet noises of wild places, is instead a time to listen to drunken racist jokes, a sobbing toddler and Husband screeching “SAY AI WANNIT” whilst dangling scraps in front of jar-jar, until the dog stood on his legs and danced, garbling “Ai-Wa-War” in a voice that sounded less like a bark and more like late-stage emphysema, before collapsing on what looked like sore joints.
Late that night, my parents discuss packing up and looking for a site in Teton down the road over the sounds of half-assed drunken sex.
The boys, in spite of their parents, are well mannered, intelligent and engaging to talk to, and seem content to frolic in the woods around the site, examining rocks and plants and the occasional insect. Dad has a nice time telling them about the Yellowstone supervolcano whilst their parents have vanished to parts unknown. Jar-jar remains off-lead and un-collared the entire time, huffing and puffing as he tries to keep up. Still, five boys is perhaps too much attention for an elderly pug, and the too-hard petting and pulling of ears and tail and suchlike is tolerated with an exasperated whine and vacations under our bear-box.
The second night, Husband was furious about something, cursing up a storm and throwing things and generally having a tantrum. The eldest boy said something to him and he bore down on him, hand raised and screaming something about ‘useless pieces of shit.” -When they were interrupted by my mother stepping into their site, all four feet eleven inches of ill-contained fury, staring him down.
“I was wondering.” She said, eyes not moving from him. “If I could borrow some matches.” “Ours got wet.” Dad added, immediately behind her, less as support than restraint.
I remember how ghastly quiet the woods got for a moment there, watching the scene unfold from behind Cody, the only sounds the campfire and crickets.
“Uh, yeah. Matches.” The Wife muttered, and it was enough to get Husband to back down.
“You have lovely children.” Dad continued. “Very smart, very polite.” “You must be so blessed.” My mother adds, only slightly spitting the word.
My parents take the matches and talk a bit longer but I couldn’t hear. Husband gave up, flopping down in his chair, but not before giving Jar-Jar a kick.
The next morning, as my family was packing up to head down to Teton instead, The Eldest boy approached us, concerned.
“Sir?” he asked dad. “Have you seen jar-jar?”
We hadn’t actually, his gravely groveling notably absent that morning at breakfast. My sister and I went on a search with the boys through the camp, but to no avail. We did find Wife, complaining to the campground host that there were too many wild animals around. In the National Park. Saddened and trying to give the boys some hope that perhaps jar-Jar had not been eaten by the coyotes, we left.
On the way out the main gate, we ended up behind a Buick with Florida plates, driven by a couple well into their octogenarian period, at about seven miles per hour. As they stopped at the checkout gate, clearly asking for directions, a dog climbed up to sit in the back window. A fat, lop-sided, wall-eyed little Pug, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
And that’s the story of how Jar-jar escaped the Hell family to Florida.