crafts for a cause

ok this is 100% wishful thinking of my imagination but wouldnt it be cool if there was a feature on site to design what your lair could look like a little bit like u could choose from some basic backgrounds that relate to your flight like maybe the water flight has a waterfall and a cave, and the nature one is a big tree and jungle etc. and then u could use materials like the logs and wood planks to craft signs and wooden structures like maybe a lookout post, that could be placed on the premade backdrop, and u could decorate it with other craftable items and it would be visible as part of your clan profile or something?

idk i just wish the items we have like iron ores and wood and rocks could be used to craft something cause theyre ideal for it


Overwatch Papercraft Project: Genji

Wow I feel like Genji took me forever but maybe it was cause I spread apart when I worked on him so much i dunno but i’m really satisfied with how he turned out like half the time I was working on this I thought it wasn’t going to work out and he turned out so awesome ?? so yeah I’m happy~ and I learned how to fold an origami dragon! Based on the “Stoic” in game spray.

Approx time: ~8hours
Paper, glue, origami skills

Masterlist of finished characters
Genji and Hanzo side by side

Problems with the Witchblr Community

There are some serious fucking problems occurring on this website, like:

  1. Peoples’ grimoires are way too artistic. Like seriously you all need to tag that shit like “hey this may trigger you because this Van Gogh beautifully-crafted art style might blind you and gush your morality with its beauty and cause your perspective of your own grimoire/BOS to wilt like a flower on fire”. I don’t take the time to even update my BOS, never mind decorate it with these gorgeous illustrations.
  2. The quality of pictures are way too high. I don’t know where people are getting all these professional cameras. Like I take pictures with my phone or shitty Samsung and post them, and I know I wouldn’t even reblog that shit, the quality is way too low. This results in a standard of high quality Instagram-worthy pictures that is too high for me to keep up with, y’all need to lower your photography skills.
  3. Peoples’ altars are too perfectly positioned in the sunlight, like bathing in the holiness of the sun or moon and washing any of vestige of mortality away from that spot. This kinda weaves into the photography complaint but basically, y’all stop being so artsy.
  4. Digital sigils are too easily and perfectly displayed. I don’t know how people make those sigils, it’s like an elusive angelic society that just sprinkles down talent and useful spells like falling stars. Seriously y’all need to post a how-to on that shit because I don’t have a tablet and just take pictures of hand-drawn sigils, but even those who post their hand-drawn sigils draw them incredibly better than I draw my sigils. 
  5. The witches on this site are way too creative. They’re all thinking of tips and techniques I never thought of before, and it makes everyone else feel dumb because they didn’t think of them first.
  6. Pretty much every witch on this site seems to have a green thumb. They say taking care of plants doesn’t require a green thumb, but I beg to differ because pretty much every plant I own dies. Like I don’t know if it’s because I’m a death witch and am literally radiating death energy, but I can’t keep plants alive for my own life. Green witches gotta share their real secrets, HOW are you keeping your plants alive.
  7. Then there are some problems like elitism, transphobia, homophobia, racism, nazism, blatant disrespect for peoples’ religions and cultures, the hatred with which we argue, and the fear that I’m always being scrutinized and that no matter what I say extreme SJWs will cherry-pick the things I say and misconstrue my argument into something i never said in the first place so i might as well just not even say my opinion on anything which i’m doing right now so i’ll just shut up and continue the joke
  8. The spooky and ethereal Witch Aesthetic™ is too on point. All the hanging herbs and lit candles and smoke from incense are too entrancing and immediately calm my mood and cause me to daydream about the eloquence of the witchy aesthetic. It’s too romanticized. It causes me to enjoy my own craft too much, and I reblog too many of them. We need to cut those down by a bunch.

Just had to get that off my chest.

Hidden Talents of iNtuitive types

ENFP: good at strategic problem solving and understanding what creative solution will carry mass emotional relatability

INFP: fierce and outspoken when it comes to standing up for what they feel is right 

ENFJ: often a Mr or Miss Fix-it in some way, or has a knack for sensory arts /physical details/body mechanics/food pairings/etc

INFJ: quite adept at crafting a solid logical argument for a concept or cause when they need to 

INTP: enthusiastic children inside when it comes to the people they care about

ENTP: empathetic and able to encourage loved ones out of funks, sometimes to the detriment of their own time or energy

INTJ: remarkably tender toward those who capture their heart and devotion

ENTJ: loyal as the day is long, agonizes over doing right by those they care for

I cannot imagine a scenario wherein a civilian would need to bring a firearm into a craft store other than to either cause trouble or advertise the size of their shoes. 

Made this just now after a massive rage episode. This spell bottle was created to protect against, trap, and remove intrusive thoughts away from me and into the bottle to be neutralized. This is my first try at my own spell bottle.

Tools I used:

Mortar and Pestle *optional
Small craft bottle with cork
Candle (I used purple cause I like purple)


Black Salt (or regular sea salt) - absorb negativity
Black Pepper - protect and break down negativity
Basil - Grounding and cleansing (don’t have Sage)
Rosemary - peaceful and harmonious energies
Cinnamon - Eats negativity for breakfast - very aggressive defense wall to take care of the nastier intrusions.
Thieves Oil *optional - buffs components effectiveness while adding its own ward

I basically focused all my frustration and anger while making the bottle, but with the intent to calm storm.

I don’t speak, or think of any incantation. For me just finishing the bottle with wax took way more spoons than I had.

My mortar and pestle is my best friend, and came in super handy to break down the cinnamon, which also helped my rage attack. This spell bottle is specifically designed to help with aggressive or overwhelming thoughts in conjunction with other healthy coping mechanisms. This is NOT a stand alone, nor is it medical advice.

If using a mortar and pestle, try to use it either for cooking or magic work. Some spell components can be dangerous if accidentally ingested from cross contamination.

anonymous asked:

You don't mind people talking about your boobs like that?

No not at all!! It makes me feel sexy, which is a few and far between feeling for me. Not that I don’t get compliments, but most people talk about my craft skill, or something. Or looking cool. I don’t often get called “SEXY” or HOT. 

Sometimes Alpha children will compete with their Alpha parent for their Omega parent’s attention/affection. The Omega parent will usually find this adorable and loves the attention their child is giving them, and will even laugh when they see their Alpha getting frustrated with the child and trying to get their Omega’s attention back on them.

Newcomers Pt 22

Malthos sat in the living room with only a small lamp for light, he was reading one of the newspapers that had arrived from the capital that he had bought from a merchant as he wanted to know what was happening outside the city. It was full of a lot of stories of how the Benemar had stopped the Humans advance and were beginning to turn the tide of the war. He had no idea if this was true but he was happy to hear that his people were still in the fight. Although, Creten had said he hoped his people lost the war. He shook his head as if to throw his son from his mind, his own son had turned traitor and thrown his lot in the with the Humans. It was within his rights as a father to cast him out of his home or even kill him, but he did not. For all his son’s faults he was still his son even if he was a creten, an unwanted.

“Are you still awake?” a voice from his left said.

He turned to see his wife standing in the doorway to their room.

“Do you not wish to share a bed with your wife? Have I become undesirable?”

He smiled “No man could ever find such a specimen undesirable” he said getting to his feet. If he had both his arms he would have done the traditional thing and carried her to their bed, but right now he just held her with his remaining one and lead her inside.

Mornings are considered the worst part of the day, at least by Humans who tend to love their beds almost as much as their own children, Karen was no exception to this and moaned as the sun rose and roused her from her sleep. She sat up and looked over at Sharn who was still fast asleep and snoring next to her. In one swift motion Karen pushed Sharn out of the bed and onto the floor.

“Oh sweetie did you fall out of bed again?”

“Fall my ass!”

“You did fall on your ass and it’s a big ass” Karen grinned and Sharn began hitting her with one of the cushions.

“I’m first in the bathroom!” Karen shouted leaping out of bed.

“No you were first last time!” Sharn gave chase but Karen was already inside and had the door locked.

“Ahh you bitch! Why do lock the door, I have seen you naked what do you have left to hide?”

“I don’t want you to see my wobbly bits in the light”

“We don’t have any wobbly bits any more…except for our tits”

“….I’m still not opening it”

Karen laughed as she went to relieve herself but hit her legs on the toilet, she had forgotten about he extra joints and this toilet was built for pre-Celestrian Humans. In the end she had to squat with her feet either side of the toilet….it was not easy.

The morning was like any other in Geeda, people were rousing and the Benemar citizens were going to pick up their food for the day and Humans were making patrol routes along with transports bringing in supplies along with the Benemar merchants. The air was quiet, as Humans would say, it was too quiet.

Karen and Sharn were brushing their teeth when the Link exploded in screams and calls for alarm.

Bombers had been spotted heading for Geeda and a great many of them.

These bombers were no ordinary craft nor were their fighter escorts for these were coated in distortion metal, rather misleading because in fact it was a fabric but a strong one. It rendered the craft invisible to any kind of radar or scanner, they were new inventions created by the Scribes in Potellan. They had experimented with such things in the past but Hopoln had urged them to bring the project back and under wartime conditions had perfected it. It was only by pure luck they were spotted at all, a single patrol had stopped while a number of their soldiers relieved themselves and one of them spotted them in the distance. Using the Link the soldier could tell they were not Human craft.

Not only that but the force had somehow managed to dodge all air patrols and slipped through their net, not only that but the majority of the Humans air force were out on patrol.

“How long till they get here?” Jenkins asked through the Link as he raced to the command tower.

“Spotters say they will be here in a under fifteen minutes”

“Recall all air patrols now!”

“We have sir, they will not get here in time”

Jenkins used his voice to shout a curse “Sound the air raid siren and get the people into the shelters”

The shelters had been dug by the Humans after they arrived in case something like this happened, they did not like the idea of the civilians being without some protection.

They scrambled all their remaining fighters in an attempt to offer some resistance to this onslaught and powered up all their anti air guns.

Much of the city were still in their beds or just about to rouse when the siren sounded and Humans were running from building to building shouting at them to get to the shelters.

Creten held the door open as his family ran through it and out their house, the Humans were still shouting as if it would make them move faster that they needed to get to safety. Creten believed they were frightened too if not for themselves then for the civilians.

The streets were packed but they were moving fast as the shelters were on every street corner and they could hold many hundreds of people but they were soon filling up and space was running out.

Overhead Human craft boomed past heading to the horizon to try and at least slow the bombers down, people looked up with mixed feelings. These bombers were Benemarian, their own kind but were coming to bomb a city they were in which might kill them. The Humans who were the invaders were now fighting to defend them. Survival made many discard these thoughts and keep running to find shelter.

But Creten slowed down.

“Creten?” Selan asked noticing him slow his pace.

“Tell mother, I’m sorry” he said and ran the other direction before Selan could call after him.

He was almost knocked to floor a few times after colliding with people running to safety when he was running towards danger, it was not long before he was alone in the streets and it felt like the city was empty. The siren continue to wail and he ran to try and get to high ground when a familiar face grabbed him.


“Creten what the hell are you doing here you need to get to the shelter!”

“No I need to see”

“You don’t need to see anything you need to get to safety come on” she shouted pulling him along.

“NO!” he cried and Karen stopped and looked at him “These bombers were sent by the High Chiefs and makes everything I have said about them true, they do not care for us! I need to see this with my own eyes! Otherwise I cannot tell others about this for there will be no feeling in my words. Please! Let me see” he whispered the last part and that seemed to strike her harder.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head as if fighting herself before finally turning to him “Fine! Do not make me regret this!”

She picked him up and put him on her back and wrapped her tail around his waist and in a sense tie him to her, he held on with his legs and arms though for good measure.

“Hold on tight” she said and to Creten’s amazement she moved as easily as if he was not on her back at all but that was not all, with him on her back she in a sense ran/crawled up the side of a building as fast as she could run along the ground.

The change the Humans had undergone truly was remarkable Creten thought to himself as Karen reached the top and leapt from building to building and rooftop to rooftop towards a certain tower.

“Who’s this?” Hopkins asked through the Link.

“It’s Creten”

“Why the fuck is he here? Get him to the shelter!”

“He wishes to see and retell this to the people, fear not I shall take responsibility for him”

This exchange took place over the course of less than a heart beat, the Link sent messages at the speed of thought and in the time it took Karen to land on the building where Hopkins was and for Creten to get off her back the exchange was long over.

“Hopkins?” Creten asked.

“Hello again little one” Hopkins answered first with the Link before switching to his voice.

Creten looked up at Karen who was looking through a pair of binoculars at the horizon, he felt scared being on the roof and being exposed but he fought it down and looked to where the bombers were coming from. Flashes of light signalled the Human fighters battling the bombers escorts and he would occasionally see a trail of black smoke lead to the ground as a craft was shot down. Be it Human or Benemar it was impossible to tell, at least for him. The Humans being in the Link could tell and feel very well which was theirs and which was the Benemar’s and they seemed to wince whenever one of their own was killed.

Creten felt upset, there were warriors from both sides fighting and dying and all he could do was watch and try to convince people that there was more to life than fighting and waging war. He clenched his fists angry, he thought of his mother and he felt suddenly guilty over not giving her a quick hug before running off. Karen seemed to sense this and using her tail she pulled him to her while she kept looking at the battle. He embraced her and this reminded her that he was still a child really, but one had taken up a calling with wisdom far beyond his years. She placed her hand on his head and ran it through his hair in a mothering fashion.

The bombers gunned their engines pushing them to the limit and threatening overheating or worse an overload which would cause the entire craft to up in flames. They were close to the city walls now and they prayed their new coating would shield them from the Humans seekers as they called them. In all, over two hundred bombers were heading to the city and twice that in escorts, trying to stop them were only fifty Human fighters.

The Humans anti air missiles fired, but could not lock onto anything so they flew straight and eventually hit nothing.

“What’s going on?” Jenkins demanded to know.

“The missiles can’t see their target, the bombers shielding seems to affect them too”

Everyone in the Link heard this and as one they knew, they were going to have rely on their small number of fighters to defend them, or at worst try and weather the attack. The bombers were now over the city and they began to loose their payload.

The bombs they dropped went by different names to the Benemar but their effect was the same. They dropped scorchers which was in fact napalm and many people who had not reached the shelters yet met a very horrible end at the hands of this chemical. Most though were standard mass explosive bombs designed to destroy infrastructure but mixed in with these were incendiary bombs meant to spread fire and thus spread the damage. Out of the two hundred bombers that made their way to the city, only nineteen had been shot down, now the city was at their mercy.

It was like a wave of fire following the craft, buildings collapsed, people burned and smoke filled their air.

Not all the civilians had made it to the shelters, with so little warning many hundreds or even thousands were caught in the streets with no hope of outrunning and could only hope by some miracle they were about to survive what was coming.

Karen grabbed Creten as the wall of fire approached and ran leaping from roof to roof as if trying to outrun it, but as fast as the Humans were they could not outrun aircraft. Creten could not help but scream and Karen held him tight in her arms like he was her own flesh and blood and ran with all her strength. She would not see this Benemar, this child die. The bombers passed over them and a bomb hit the building Karen had just leapt from but the one she was to land on was falling, collapsing as it’s foundation gave out. Curling herself around Creten she fell into the fire and smoke.

Nothing, darkness was all that could be seen and it went on for eternity. Were they laying down? Standing? Couldn’t tell but a sound…music? No…a voice…it was singing to him. He felt warm as if he was wrapped in cotton and silk. Then a blinding light and air filled his lungs and he breathed as if he was just now being born.

“A survivor!” a voice shouted, a man, a Human.

Creten looked at the Human moving rubble to get to him, there was something on top of him, another Human….Karen.

“Don’t move little one”


“Yes, it’s me, don’t move, her vines are close to your heart”

Creten looked down and saw what he meant, Karen’s hand was on his chest and they had penetrated his skin and bones to his heart. She had been feeding his body oxygen and nutrients to keep him alive.

“Karen, we’re safe” he said shacking her “Karen?”

Ghostwatch is a controversial British mockumentary broadcast only once by BBC 1 on Halloween Night 1992, depicting the fictional investigation of a haunted house by a team of journalists. Featuring actual BBC reporters, equipment, and on-screen graphics, the film was meticulously crafted to look like a real-life news special. This staunch realism caused many viewers to believe they were seeing actual paranormal activity, leading to an estimated 30,000 call-ins during the “live” broadcast and enough public outcry in the days that followed for the BBC to decide to ban the film outright. 

The film begins outside of an average-looking home where a mother and her two daughters are living in quiet fear of a supposed poltergeist. One of the daughters, curiously fixated on the entity, has dubbed it “Pipes” because of its tendency to rattle the house’s plumbing. The BBC team gets acquainted with the Early family, fast realizing just how terrified they are. As the investigation continues and the details of just what Pipes is and what it wants are slowly uncovered, the ghost begins to manifest itself around them. It looms in corners, outside of windows, and in reflections; a gruesome subliminal image, disappearing so quickly that neither reporter Sarah Greene nor her cameraman (nor anyone watching on TV) realizes what they’ve seen until they no longer see it. Some sightings are obvious, designed to instill fear both in the characters and in the audience. Others are there only for the truly observant, unnoticed by the cast, visible only for a few fleeting frames.

Intertwined with this staged investigation is an in-studio leg of the special hosted by veteran English broadcaster Michael Parkinson. He interviews several fictional experts on the paranormal and fields a number of scripted call-ins from “viewers” of the program. Mundane at first, the studio presentation starts to get stranger and stranger. The “callers” get more distressed, continuously claiming to have seen apparitions in the investigation feed. All the while, a graphic on the bottom of the screen keeps flashing a number for call-ins. This was intended as a way to let viewers know the film was a gag; phoning the number would redirect you to an automated message confirming just that. Due to the high volume of callers, however, most people got nothing but a busy signal that ultimately served only to further the ruse.

By the time Ghostwatch hits its climax – I won’t spoil it, no worries – much of its October ‘92 audience had suspended their disbelief and fallen under its spell. It’s an ending that, keeping in mind the context within which it lived that night, works like few ever have. It’s not that scary NOW, sure, but when it aired? It must’ve been disturbing. A finish specifically designed to engineer War Of The Worlds style mass hysteria a few short years before the internet would make such a thing impossible, it sparked a slew of complaints. Multiple cases of younger viewers suffering symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder were reported. One watcher, an 18-year-old factory worker known to suffer from learning disabilities, committed suicide just five days later. The plumbing in his family’s home began to creak, just as Pipes had made happen in the film, because of a problem with the central heating system. He left only a note reading “if there are ghosts I will be … with you always as a ghost”.

The BBC’s ten year ban on the film has expired, but they’ve never re-aired it.

I’ve always had this thought based off of my experiences that witchcraft never changes a person but just amplifies who they are. 

I think it’s especially apparent where people find magic or how they host magical events. I have a friend from college that is starting to get into it and she’s a professional dancer but she performs spells in ritualistic dances. My best witchy friend is ruled by fire and casts spells by burning herbs and burning candles and just burning tons of shit its funny even when she wants to cleanse a space the first thing she goes towards is a candle to burn I am like damn you ain’t even gonna lysol this bitch a little? like she’s like: Oh time to clean! *lights a candle* (ps I can’t wait until she follows this blog lol I talk so much smack about her). 

But about the hosting events things I’ve gotten closer to another witch who cohosts the witchy church and she’s really into reading folk stories, philosophy, literature and is just someone who is superbly academic and when she hosts her moon circles she usually tells a symbolic story. It would be almost the equivalent of pulling a divination card as advice for us to pay attention to as we move forward but in the form of a story. Stories are her thing cause reading and symbolism is her thing. It gets creepy too sometimes cause the story would sometimes directly relate to a very recent or current situation in your life but you can’t blurt out HOW DID YOU  KNOW?? to her during the ritual lol you just gotta stare her down and listen. (She also loves bibliomancy, surprise surprise). 

Her cohost is a performer and singer and she does the big sabbats and like unless I am drunk at kareoke singing is not my thing but she doesn’t care cause she is like TIME for EVERYONE to SING and at first I would get so uncomfortable but she does voice exercises that actually help release energy?? And also help everyone get onto the same wavelength. Like I found out about intoning because of her and intoning also helps to warm up energetically and help yourself project energy too but is also a great way to align yourself energetically with others. (You’re going to sound like the mystics from Jim Henson’s Dark Crystal but that makes it more magical lol) And singing can be spell binding too which is interesting. 

I guess my interests turn into something magical too when I host events. When I host my gatherings in my friend’s space it tends to be really social and surrounds the things I like as well, like I am a mixologist so I make several cocktails and like magical shots we take at the end of rituals. And I am also into game design so when I have time I plan a game to play that either tests our abilities or can be used to divine the next few months to come. The things that I love the most in my mundane life I put a lot of magic into like making home made tea brews, smoothie bowls, shower gels, hair oils, music playlists (especially overlapping with ambient soundtracks), I find magic in anything I find remotely interesting. 

I just think its cool how witches are a source of magic and can wield it in anyway according to their interests and it really amplifies the individual’s uniqueness in how they decide to channel it. Also adding it’s why when someone has really toxic, aggressive or creepy energy and is a witch I avoid cause whatever unchecked bitter insecurity they might harbor, or worse, hatred and biases, it will find its way into their craft and they’ll be no fun to hang around. But anyway its also cool to be around a lot of witches and finding how they do things according to what they like and make up their own craft and its also pretty validating being around them cause the differences in our crafts is what makes us powerful because its practice we find meaning in. 


Guess you could say this is Mother’s Day-ish floof >w>


Arian was rocking lazily in the chair by the mantle when Cullen entered the main room of their home, quietly singing a tune that he’d heard more and more frequently as of late.

“It’s a Dalish lullaby,” she told him one night as they lay curled up in one another, his fingers drawing random shapes over the swell of her abdomen. “My mother used to sing it to me when I was little.”

“It’s beautiful,” Cullen replied, kissing her cheek. “Are you singing it for the baby?”

Arian laughed, offering a little shrug. “May as well get a head-start, right?” she said. “Maybe they’ll recognize it once they’re here.”

He was anticipating what the prospect of parenthood would bring, of that there wasn’t a doubt. Arian, however, had embraced the title of mother as soon as she had announced they were expecting. It made his heart full seeing how happy she became whenever the subject of their baby came up, the way her eyes would brighten and her cheeks would flush.

Tonight, she was focused on knitting, a skill she had picked up with the help of Mia and Rosalie. Though having only one arm made things difficult in the beginning, Arian didn’t falter. Instead, she embraced the challenge, figuring out a solution in the matter of days and going from there. Now, she would knit or sew every evening, arguing that she didn’t want Mia to feel like she had to make all of their baby’s clothes.

As Cullen approached her, he found that she was working on a pair of booties, a project she had taken up just the day before. Their mabari shot up from his spot near the fireplace the moment he heard Cullen’s footsteps, shoving his snout into the man’s hand and wagging his stub of a tail.

“Been glued to your side all day, and he still wants attention,” Arian snickered without looking up. 

“I think he feels like he’s going to be replaced, with how much I dote on you,” Cullen replied, rubbing the mabari’s head. “Alright, boy. Give me a few minutes and we’ll play fetch outside for a while.” he told the dog, who yipped happily before plopping down in front of the fireplace once more.

Cullen knelt at Arian’s side then, examining the works in progress which rested on the curve of her belly. 

“What do you think?” she asked him softly, holding up a completed bootie. The tiny article of clothing was lovely in every sense, as it evidenced just how much love and care had gone into its craft - but that’s not what caused Cullen’s chest to tighten.

“Are… will the baby really be that small?” he asked, his voice quiet. Arian let out a gentle laugh, her smile rosy and affectionate.

“Yes, my love. They really will,” she confirmed, setting her knitting aside so she could cup his cheek. “Does that frighten you?”

Cullen shook his head, then shrugged. “It doesn’t, but…”

“Cullen,” Arian said, coaxing him to look at her. “It’s okay if it frightens you. It frightens me, too. To bear something so little and precious, to protect it, you would be afraid.”

He appreciated that his wife had a means of explaining what he always could not. He was frightened, but he was also ecstatic. He didn’t know what being a father would bring, or how he would adjust to the title. What he did know, however, was that he would spend every waking moment ensuring their child was safe, happy, and loved beyond belief. 

“I am afraid,” he admitted to her, turning his head to press his lips to her palm. “But with every passing day, it becomes overshadowed by the joy I feel. I…” he swallowed, looking into his wife’s eyes tenderly, “I cannot wait to meet them.”

Arian, touched by his words, smiled at him, her eyes squinting. “I can’t either,” she murmured, leaning over to kiss his brow. “I hope they have your eyes.”

“I hope they have your smile,” he countered, smirking at her. “That was one of the first things I noticed about you.”

“Really?” she inquired, tilting her head. “I’ll have to have Varric write that in his novel about us. ‘He became enamored by her infectious smile…’

“You haven’t been encouraging him again, have you?” Cullen deadpanned, though his lips twitched upward.

Arian feigned offense, her eyes widening as her hand flew to her chest. “Perish the thought, good sir!” she exclaimed, then smiled. “In all seriousness, I think I like the idea of our story remaining ours.” She leaned over, nuzzling her forehead into his. “What do you think?”

Cullen sighed as the tiniest of smiles rose on his cheeks, his eyes closing as he basked in the forever-comforting presence of his lover and wife.

“I wholeheartedly agree.”

Likes and reblogs are soooo much love!!

The Corvus Blackstar is a type of gunship used by the Deathwatch Space Marines.

A sleek and deadly craft, it is designed to penetrate the outer defenses of alien hosts to strike directly at its heart. Though small enough to slip through sensor grids, its weapons systems are highly advanced, allowing the Blackstar to cause devastating impact for a craft its size. Primarily fulfilling the role of transport, its vectored engines are nimble enough to dart through winding terrain. Once in position it will switch from fighter craft to hovercraft, deploying the Deathwatch Space Marines held within. The pilot of each Blackstar is a veteran Techmarine who has earned the right to field it over long and arduous years of schooling. The pilot uses the same machine each time; so intense is this training that the Techmarines will link with the Machine Spirit of the aircraft.

The Blackstar has advanced systems to ensure its survival. Its robust construction can shrug off even a direct hit from enemy anti-aircraft fire, and it is also equipped with Infernum Halo Launcher decoy flares and Interceptors. For armament, the Blackstar is most commonly armed with four Stormstrike Missiles and twin-linked Assault Cannons, though some are equipped with prow-mounted Lascannons in order to penetrate armored targets. Many of these craft also carry Blackstar Rocket Launcher arrays under each wing which can fire incendiary Dracos Air-to-Ground Missiles or air-to-air Corvid Rockets. It is also equipped with a Blackstar Cluster Launcher, auxiliary Grenade Launchers mounted in the rear to strafe smaller targets.

anonymous asked:

Kind of starting to hate working at a craft/fabric store, everyone expects you to know everything about every craft. Like, yes most of us do crafts of some kind but none of us will know everything abt wool roving or the 50 small differences between the sewing machines we carry? Don't treat us like we're stupid just cause we can't answer your crafting question

I probably know more now than I did when I was in a craft store. Which sucks, could have used the knowledge about jewelry making because that was the most asked about questions other than floral then sewing. Still don’t know shit about floral though. -Abby


All my favorite color combos in one bird!
Caution: may cause eyebleed

#crafts #resin #bird #avian #purple #color #juicy

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Disguising Magic in an Unsupportive Household

1. Crystals: wearing and keeping crystals around is a good way to express your personality and interest in nature without showing that you’re explicitly practicing the craft

2. Herbs: Whether in soaps, candles, or food and drinks, herbs are a good way to share your magical ways through gifts and spending time together without them knowing about your craft. 

3. Gardening and enjoying the outdoors: Most people don’t know that being a witch implies having a love for nature. Maybe suggest gardening as a chore you’d like to have weekly. This is very easy way to spend time with family at the beach on vacation, experiencing a National Park, or in the backyard without them knowing that this is actually a part of your craft. 

An unsupportive household can cause a lot of anger, sadness, and resentment. Don’t forget to keep a journal (Book of Shadows) about your experiences, as an escape, and a way to vent.