cave in the woods

New We Bare Bears Tonight!

 “COFFEE CAVE”

Boarded by Bert Youn and myself

Stop on by!* 


*Disclaimer: Coffee Cave™ as featured on the Cartoon Network™ original series We Bare Bears™ is not a real place. Do not attempt to stop on by. Cartoon Network is not liable for any coffee you may or may not find in the woods. Thanks

NITW theory

So in Lost Constellation, Mae is getting a story told to her about her Grandpa (she had said in the main game that he would read her ghost stories), but what if they actually happened?
So, Mae’s grandpa has a tooth locked in a safe. It makes him seem like he was just a cooky ole fella, but when you’re in the library with Bea searching for information on the ghost, there is an article about miners who went on strike against their boss and as a keepsake, each one of the miners took one of his teeth as a reminder of the loyalty of the miners.
When in the cave, the members said they had prayed to the weird cave God or something along those lines. Some wished for luck with jobs, wealth, or for the town of Possum Springs to thrive.
So what if after all of this, Mae’s grandpa was a part of the weird cave cult? Mae’s mother talked to Mae about how she was a miracle baby because she had so many miscarriages before finally getting pregnant with Mae. So, while the other members wished for things like wealth and such, Mae’s grandpa could’ve wished for a grandchild.
Then, after Mae is born, he told her ghost stories, which could actually be stories that he himself experienced while a member of the cave cult, or from other members.
Also, maybe Mae had the weird visions and experiences because she was basically a gift from the cave God. If the others wished for material things, and Mae’s grandpa wished for Mae, she would be the only living thing wished for; giving her a connection between herself and the cave God.

The 10 Best Beer Gifts for Father’s Day

Beer isn’t just a beverage. When you’re into it, it’s really a way of life. That’s why we’ve compiled a list of products and gifts that exist to enhance this perfect way of life. No, you definitely don’t need some of the things here, but damn does it sure make beer more fun. From t-shirts to beer soap, theres a gift here for everyone who shares the same love of beer that you do. Check them out below. 

Beer Soap (6-pack…of course) 

If you’ve ever had a shower beer, you’ll know just how glorious it is to have a great beer while enjoying the warm water. Just imagine all of that in your soap…aside from the taste. “You smell like beer” will soon be the highest compliment you can achieve.

Get It Here


Wooden Bottle Opener

Second on the list is a sweet bottle opener that looks good in any man cave, dorm room or kitchen. The wood definitely gives this gift a rustic feel, and is the perfect price for a small gift. We’re definitely getting one for our shop!

Get It Here


Stoneware Growler

So at first the actual weight of the growler turned me off, but that thought was swiftly replaced by wanting one just based on how cool it looks. I found out that these clay-based growlers also keep your beer insulated, and therefore colder for a longer period of time. An awesome gift for someone who homebrews and spends lots of time outdoors.

Get It Here


Silicone Beer Caps

You want to savor your beer. So when you get that 22oz. 13% ABV Russian Imperial Stout, you want to drink it fresh, and drink it slow. With these silicone beer caps, you can pour yourself a small glass now, and keep the rest fresh for later. Any craft beer lover will truly appreciate (and continually use) this gift.

Get It Here


Beer Shampoo & Conditioner

Oh this is too good. Beer conditioner? You don’t drink it, which is literally the ONLY downside I see. For the person that thought beer soap was end of the road, this will blow their pretty little mind just one more time. Plus, it’s reasonably priced enough to be a truly unique stocking stuffer.

Get It Here


Diagram of Beer Poster

Over 100 styles of beer and over 600 specific beers dot this striking poster, giving any craft beer aficionado an exact style to many of their favorite beers. We have one up in our shop, and consult it on a weekly basis to give us inspiration on what to brew!

Get It Here


Mini Oak Barrels

This takes homebrewing and craft beer enjoyment to a new level. For any beer lover that partakes in barrel aged beers, or any homebrewer that has wanted to try this advanced technique, this is the gift for them! These barrels come in sizes from as small as 1L to as big as 100L, and everywhere in between.

Get it Here


Traditional German Beer Stein

Sure, this stein might be expensive, but it’s unbelievably cool. These steins are crafted using the traditional German methods passed down over hundreds of years. Everything is made out of pewter and is FDA food grade safe.

Get It Here


United States of Beer Tasting Map

If your beer lover also likes to travel, this beer cap map is the perfect gift. Every time they have a beer from a different state, or IN a different state, they can place that cap in that state’s slot, and write in what they had. Beer doesn’t erase memories, it creates them!

Get It Here


Brew Candles

All around, this is a really cool gift. The candle is made out of soy wax, the candle holder is a recycled 22oz. beer bottle, and the smell is based off of pleasant-smelling beer styles. What more could any beer lover want?

Get It Here


Hope you get inspired with some of the beer things and get your father a nice gift! If you have another ideas just let us know in comments. Reblog if you find this useful!

  • Simon: Baz is definitely plotting against me.
  • Simon: He's gonna try and kill me again so I gotta be prepared so I'm going to have to follow him EVERYWHERE until we die.
  • Simon: I gotta go to the caves with him
  • Simon: Gotta follow him to the woods
  • Simon: And to classes
  • Simon: And I gotta watch him sleep
  • Simon: I have to go to his football games!
  • Simon: I am following him because he's PLOTTING
  • Simon: NOT because I'm gay for him
  • Simon: I'm not gay
  • Baz: *is half naked* Snow what the fuck are you doing following me to the bathrooms?
  • Simon: I'M GAY
The types and what I associate with them

Infj: The ocean, a cave behind a waterfall

Enfp: 80s songs, emerald necklace

Entp: bonfire in the woods

Istp: a i don’t give a fuck attitude

Isfp: a caterpillar, meadow full of flowers

Esfp: curtains opening in the cinema, karaoke songs

Intj: the universe/space

Estp: a completely tagged wall in an abondened neighbourhood

Isfj: boyfriend jeans with rips in the knees

Istj: the smell of a new book

Entj: a historical museum, a debate (obviously)

Enfj: an angel playing the harp

Estj: a huuuuge armchair in an office

Esfj: very long blonde hair, to do lists, cheerleaders (sorry esfj)

Infp: a journal (eventually smugded ink because of all the blood sweat and tears you put in your writing)

Intp: a telescope, lack of sleep, video games

Wish (Part 3)

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4]

Pairing: Kagehina
Show: Haikyuu!! 
Summary: Howl’s Moving Castle AU, in which Kageyama makes a wish upon a falling star, and gets Hinata instead.


The days that followed passed by with ever-growing tension. Upon reaching a safe distance from the town, Tobio had carried a limp, rapidly cooling Hinata onward, up into the mountains, where he found a cave deep enough to seek shelter.

There, he built a fire of his own, contained in a little pit made of stacked stones, and he laid the demon out beside it to keep him warm. He fed them both with dried wood that he gathered outside the cave, and when he cooked for himself, he slipped Hinata his egg shells, seeds, or cut-off strips of meat, but it was difficult. Hinata was barely present enough to eat. Tobio spent his time crushing, grinding, or even chewing up his food enough for Hinata to swallow it down.

All the while, the little hollow in his chest where his heart used to be grew colder. In the hours when the weather beyond the cave was dismal and the fire not enough, the empty space in him ached with the chill, so much so he had lifted Hinata up into his lap before the flame, and wrapped his arms about his chest to hold in what little heat he had.

It helped to warm him, but the pain remained all the same.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi! For a Klance prompt, Lance or Keith (your pick) gets infected by some alien thing that makes them tell the truth so they admit their feelings for the other person, but after being 'cured' they don't remember doing it? thanks!

For sure! Hope you like it :D


           “Lance, what are you doing – get away from that!” Keith grabbed the back of Lance’s armor and hauled him backward as the flower exploded a white puff in his face, making Lance sneeze violently. He rubbed the residue off his face, inspecting the white smear it left on his glove.

           “It’s just pollen,” he shrugged. Keith glared at him.

           “Do you know how many people are allergic to Earth pollen? Who knows what alien pollen might do to you?” Lance rolled his eyes.

           “You’re being dramatic. Look, I’m fine. I feel better than ever.” Keith narrowed his eyes.

           “Let’s just keep moving,” he said, shifting his grip on his bayard. “We can probably find a cave in those cliffs up there, hole up there for the night, try and contact the team again in the morning.” Lance nodded.

           “After you,” he said, gesturing grandly. Keith just rolled his eyes and set off, hacking a particularly thorny branch away with his sword.

           They made it to a shallow, unoccupied cave in the cliff face with about an hour to spare before sunset and managed to build a fire before it got too dark to see. They negotiated guard duty and Keith got first watch, leaving Lance to stretch out and go to sleep beside the fire. Except, in typical Lance fashion, he started to talk instead.

           “I’ve never built a fire before. I never thought I would have to,” he said. Keith groaned quietly.

           “Lance, we’ve got a long night ahead of us. You should really try to get some sleep.”

           “I never went camping as a kid. My family didn’t have the money to make a trip like that.”

           “You can tell me about it later. If you absolutely must,” he added under his breath. “Just please be quiet.”

           “We thought it was fancy when they managed to take us out to dinner and a movie. That was a big day. There were four of us plus my parents, and that’s a lot of kids to pay for, so we couldn’t do it very often. But camping was never an option. My sister really wanted to do it. She begged my parents for months. But they wouldn’t let her. It was pretty awful to watch how crushed she was, but to tell the truth, I thought she was being selfish.”

           “Lance?” Keith asked. There was something off about Lance’s voice. It sounded too flat and monotone, as if he wasn’t actually hearing what he was saying. Lance continued as if he hadn’t heard Keith.

           “She knew they couldn’t afford to take all of us, so either she wanted to get special treatment and go without us, or she was just being a whiny brat and harassing my parents because she got fed up with having no money all the time. I got fed up too, we all did. She could have sucked it up like the rest of us.”

           “Lance.” There was definitely something wrong. Lance never talked about his family like this. Certainly not to Keith, at any rate. He sprung to his feet and walked over to where Lance was flat on his back, eyes glassy and unfocused, staring at the ceiling.

           “Of course I still love her but God did she get on my nerves when we were kids sometimes. But I don’t really think about that these days because I’m so homesick. I just think about all the perfect times we had together. You don’t understand it, you know. I don’t think anyone else on the ship understands how close I am to my family and how much I hate being here sometimes. At least Pidge is trying to get her family back. Voltron just keeps me further away. But you especially don’t understand because you don’t have any family.” Keith slapped Lance hard across the face.

           “Snap out of it!” he growled. “What the hell is…?” He bent closer. Something was glowing faintly white on the edges of Lance’s nostrils. The flower. It had infected him or something, and now he was talking without any kind of filter. “I told you that alien pollen was bad news,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead. Lance’s eyes were still just as glassy as before. He barely seemed to register the fact that he had been slapped.

           “It makes me miserable how much you hate me,” he said. Keith, in the middle of searching for some kind of leaf or cloth or anything he could use to try and scrape the gunk off Lance’s nose, paused.

           “You think I hate you?” he asked.

           “Yes,” Lance said. He started at receiving a direct answer and slowly turned back to Lance.

           “Why do you think I hate you?”

           “Because you’re so much better than me, and I annoy you by trying to compete with you. You know you can win so it’s a waste of your time.” Keith sat down heavily.

           “Lance, no. That’s not… that’s not…”

           “Of course I realized recently that the real reason I want to compete with you is because I want you to notice me,” he continued, “because I’ve had an awful crush on you since the Garrison. I thought I just wanted people to think I could be as good as you, but the real issue is that I like you a lot and I’m terrified of you finding out because I know you’ll just laugh at me.” Keith covered his ears.

           “I don’t want to hear this,” he moaned. “Lance, please, stop talking.”

           “I think you’re the most talented and beautiful person I’ve ever met and I started fantasizing about kissing you about two months ago. I even love the mullet even though I still think it’s ridiculous that you have it. I keep flirting with aliens to distract myself but I only do it because I know I won’t have any success. I don’t want to actually date anyone but you.” Keith’s head was between his knees. He wasn’t supposed to be hearing this. It wasn’t fair the way Lance’s confession made his heart speed up in his chest, made him think of the times they’d both caught each other staring lately, made him remember Lance saving his life on their most recent mission and brushing it off like it was nothing. It wasn’t fair to Lance. “I think I might love you, Keith, and I’ve cried twice about the fact that you could never love me back.” Lance’s speech ceased abruptly, leaving a few seconds of silence. “I’m tired. I’m going to sleep now,” he announced, and closed his eyes. Keith heaved a sigh of relief, coming over with a leaf to rub away the white residue on his nose. He dropped a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

           “You do that, Lance,” he said. “You do that.”

***

           Lance woke up to morning light groggy and with the worst crick in his neck he’d ever had. He sat up, yawned, and noticed Keith sitting at the edge of the cave, staring off into the woods. He frowned.

           “Dude, why didn’t you wake me up for guard duty?” he asked. “Have you been sitting there awake all night?” Keith jumped at the sound of Lance voice, turned to look at him, and scrambled to his feet.

           “Lance!” he said. “Are you… You seem normal?” Lance blinked.

           “Yeah, why… why wouldn’t I be?” Keith hovered uncertainly, unsure whether or not to move forward.

           “Do… do you not… do you remember last night?”

           “Yeah, we planned for guard duty, you said you’d wake me up in a few hours, and then you just never did! Come on, man, let people help you sometimes, you’re going to be exhausted now.” Keith bit his lip.

           “So… nothing else?” Lance stared.

           “What happened?”

           “Nothing!” Keith said hurriedly. His cheeks were slightly red for some reason. “I… I tried to wake you up but I couldn’t. You were too sound asleep. So yeah, I’ve been awake all night, asshole.” The insult was only half-hearted and didn’t really seem to land. Lance blinked.

           “Okay,” he said. “Well, we probably better see if we can’t find a way to signal the castle. It looked like there were settlements further up the cliff, let’s see if we can find some alien friends.” Keith nodded in agreement, heading to stamp out the fire. As Lance gathered his Paladin armor, he kept glancing sideways at his rival and his friend, wondering what had really happened last night – and why Keith was lying.

[I am no longer accepting prompts, just completing the ones in my inbox]

5

In a great cave some miles within the edge of Mirkwood on its eastern side there lived at this time their greatest king. Before his huge doors of stone a river ran out of the heights of the forest and flowed on and out into the marshes at the feet of the high wooded lands. This great cave, from which countless smaller ones opened out on every side, wound far underground and had many passages and wide halls; but it was lighter and more wholesome than any goblin-dwelling, and neither so deep nor so dangerous.

Battling Insecurity

The biggest demon of most musicians is a feeling of insecurity. It’s the creeping (or blatant) suspicion that you are literally the worst musician in the world — or at least nowhere near as good as you “should” be. It can also manifest as the idea that you’re going to: get laughed at by your peers, be a complete failure at everything you ever attempt, be revealed as a fraud, find out everyone is just humoring you, find out that your doubters were right, end up completely destitute and have to live in a cave, or possibly just spontaneously die the next time you have to perform. It turns out that all of these worries are 99.999% of the time completely baseless. No, you are not that 0.001 percent case where these thoughts are accurate. Bassoonist Georg, who has never actually touched a bassoon and likes living in caves, is an outlier adn should not have been counted.

The thing is that everyone feels like this, at least sometimes. I myself have, at the time of writing, complained at two different people a total of four times in the past week that I am going to end up living in a cave in the North Woods because no one will ever want to pay me for anything because I Suck. This is objectively not true. (You bought this book after all.) It may be a cliche, but there is a lot of truth to the thought that we are our own worst critics. There is no one else out there who knows your musical intent. If your trill doesn’t sound the way it did in your head, you are the only person who knows. Everyone else will think approximately this: “Hey, that was a trill. Cool.” If they’re especially persnickety, they might add “That was a little (better/worse) than when (you/someone else) sang a similar trill.” I don’t think there is a person out there who specifically goes to listen to a performance and thinks “This is awful and this performer is awful,” because most people are very nice. You are the only person there who thinks that you suck.

There are ways to battle insecurity, of course. Every performer develops a set of techniques to reaffirm their own self-worth, to calm themselves down, and essentially talk themselves down from the tree their anxiety has them hiding up. However, trial and error can take a long time, and you are going to need your self-esteem shored up a lot in the next year. With that in mind, here are suggestions from performers in college and beyond for how to manage insecurity.
Focus on things you’ve improved in the past year. When you start to worry about how obviously you’re no good and no one will ever want to listen to you etc. etc. etc., take a deep breath, then list three things you’ve improved in your playing in the past year. You have definitely improved at LEAST three, if not eight or nine aspects of your playing. Be as broad or as specific as you wish. This is about you acknowledging that you have grown and gotten better, so you choose the things on which to focus.
Listen to old recordings of yourself. If you absolutely CANNOT think of a SINGLE THING you’ve improved on in the past year (really? Not even your ability to play a single piece?), then go and listen to recordings of yourself from years ago. Find something you performed in when you were a freshman in high school (or, if you’re a freshman, see if you can find stuff from elementary school!). Go and listen to it, as critically as you can. It will probably make you cringe. That’s a good thing. Know why?
It’s because it shows you how much you’ve grown since then. If you fast-forward ten years from now, as long as you have kept playing, I can guarantee that future-you will listen to recordings of current-you with that same kinda cringey feeling. Because, in ten years, you will have improved so much that your current playing will be unrecognizable. And you will be proud.
Remember that the goal is improvement, not perfection. Music is not a race. Music is not a competition. Music is an art for self-fulfillment and self-expression. Perfection is impossible. Being “the best” is also impossible - there are seven billion people on Earth (and six in space (I checked!)). There’s always going to be someone out there who has practiced a little longer, or harder, or started earlier, or whose fingers are just a little closer to the perfect shape for your instrument. Your goal, then, should be to improve your own self - no comparisons to others, nothing like that.
Remember everyone comes from a different background. That person who sits to you in your ensemble, the one you’re envious of? You can’t know everything about their life. Maybe their parents started them on their instrument at age three. Maybe they haven’t gone out on the weekend in a year and a half because they practice then, or because they work to make up for not working during their practice time during the week. They could have a buttload of debt because of outside lessons. There’s no way to know what advantages or tradeoffs they’ve had to get where they are.
Once you’re at a certain point in life, there’s no way to add something to your life without sacrificing something else that you also like. If someone else practices X amount hours more a week then you do, then they spend X amount less doing something valuable to you - work, sleep, other homework, socializing, recharging, etc. They may simply have different priorities than you, and that’s okay.
Shut down the voice that compares people. Comparing yourself to someone else does nothing for you. Really. Unless you’re actively studying someone’s technique for educational purposes, comparing yourself to that 5th year senior, or that incredible freshman, does nothing for you. When you notice yourself doing the comparison thing, just shut it off. Practice rebuffing that voice.
“Sarah plays really well, yes. When I’ve played as long as she as, I’ll be better than I am now, too!”

Or!

“That freshman plays really well - I’m glad they had the opportunities they did.”

If all else fails, just look at these other people as motivation. Aspire to be as good as them, and use that to fuel your own practice. Just don’t let it spiral into beating yourself up. You’re worth more than that.
Directors have a vision. If you don’t match that vision, it’s not a personal failing.This is specifically in regards to auditions or chair seatings. Every musician has a different style and different technical abilities, and that’s okay. Sometimes your skill in a certain area may be amazing, but your tone just doesn’t match the rest of an ensemble. Or your sight-reading is great, but the director prefers someone else’s musical interpretation. That’s okay. There are ensembles where sight-reading is super important, and where your tone matches perfectly. You just have to find them, and you will eventually.
Make sure to take care of yourself. You can’t practice as efficiently if you’re sick. You can’t improve as much when you’re always exhausted. Trust me - due to an immune system that works about as well as a mall cop, I’ve spent on average eight weeks a school year feeling absolutely gross. I had to take an incomplete with my private teacher the first semester of my senior year of college, because I was so ill I could barely phonate (mono is a big ball of suck).
I’ve been better overall, however, since I started scheduling my sleep and food and socialization times. My calendar has nine hours of sleep scheduled in every night, I have phone calls and coffee dates with my best friends penciled in every week, and food is as regular as clockwork. Why? Because it prevents that nauseous, exhausted feeling of sleepwalking through a ten hour day. Hard days still happen, of course. However, I don’t spend nearly as much time cajoling myself to just keep putting one foot in front of the other anymore. Instead, I’m awake, engaged, and able to complain about things other than how tired I am. Progress!
Read up on Impostor Syndrome. Impostor Syndrome is when your brain’s resident jerkwad is constantly suggesting everyone you know is about to find out you’re a fraud. Who cares about any auditions you’ve successfully done. Who cares how good a grade you got last week. The jerkwad yells that you’re faking everything you’ve ever done, and people are going to figure that out, and then you’re going to end up living under a bridge and charging people tolls to cross it, and then they’ll figure out you aren’t even really a troll, and then you’re going to have join me in the cave in the North Woods and eat beetles and moss.
That jerkwad is a liar. Even I haven’t ended up in the North Woods yet, and I’m pretty sure I should list “Can BS Real Well” on my resume under Skills. You are a real musician - after all, you play music! That’s it. That’s all that’s required to call yourself a musician. I promise.