hands are a strange brown red color

Getting a variety of questions about bone staining….
You can use anything you want to stain bone, old coffee grounds and tea bags, to spices you have tucked away in
your kitchen cupboards…. from dried flower petals to boiled vegetable skins…. the possibilities are endless.

All you need to do is find a container you can soak your bones in ( i use old mason jars)
make sure bones are fully dry before you start the soaking process ( wet bones will not absorb color as much) and know that the outcome of the bones will vary heavily on each individual bone and each batch you do.
Sometimes things turn out deep and rich in color, other times its a light coated hue… Variations of bones, bone cleaning process,age and environment all have a sway on coloration and staining.

Personally i never measure when staining, i just boil water, throw a bunch of dried herbs,grounds,teas or spices in a container, throw in the bones and cover with hot simmered water…. the larger the container and amount of water… the more ‘stain" i throw in.
Then, you distract yourself and leave the bones to soak anywhere from a few hours to a couple days.

If after a couple days your bones are still too light for your taste, air dry them ( over a night or 3) and re-soak with a fresh batch of water and stain.

It is important you let the bones fully dry, just because the bone feels and looks dry on the outside doesn’t mean its dry on the inside, so its best to let them dry for a longer time rather than short, the larger and thicker the bone, the longer the drying period .Another thing that helps stain, is sun.
I have found than sun bleached or sun dried bones tend to absorb color much more intensely than others… no clue why.
I am guessing it has to do with the sun wearing on the smooth natural finish that bones have, leaving more texture for the stain to attach to….. i just pulled that out of my ass
so there is a very good chance that is not technically why sun bones stain better, but thats what ive got.

Another common question lately is why teeth wont stain when staining skulls…. i am going to blame enamel for that, teeth have that natural gloss and coating of enamel which ends up acting like a shield against stains, one thing you can do to increase your chances of tooth staining, is to gently sand away some of the enamel coating.

Sometimes you will get different coloration on the same piece of bone, this is usually due to grease or moisture, if your bone was not fully dry when thrown into the staining concoction, chances are that a section was still wet which lead to less stain absorption… if that makes sense. The other reason is grease, sometimes bones retain a bit of grease after decomposing, the grease is some what repellent to stain, so make sure you check to see if there are any darker grease stains on your bones before throwing them in a batch of stain.

Personal recopies for stain are hard to share since i literally  grab handfuls of whatever i have around and throw them in a jar…

Coffee grounds are always a great 'natural stain’
teas offer a nice rustic/lightly antiqued stain
Dried hibiscus petals and lavender offer a rich deep purple blue stain
just lavender can stain purple or even at times a deep grey color
turmeric and cinnamon create a really potent nice deep yellow/orange color
Blackberries are a vibrant purple/blue
cherries are a pinkish sometimes red color
coffee and blackberry re a deep bluish black-ish

Mix a little bit of everything, and you will come out with a dark strange brown our blackish coloration….. just have fun with it

Cersei x Ned?...

((Okay sooo this…I don’t even know what to think of this…I like it though! I did my best to write your request and stick to the characters personalities so not to make them ooc. I hope you enjoy and that it’s what you wanted, anon!))

Word Count: 1,537

Warning: There MIGHT be SENSITIVE subjects mentioned at the end if you squint. As my sister pointed out…there may be a hint of like…someone being drugged - Ned - and things resulted in a child and just…you have been warned

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I noticed a pattern when going through workplace accident reports

by reddit user manen_lyset

Note: Some names and locations have been changed to protect the identities of those involved.

For the first three years after graduating college, I toiled away as a temp worker, bouncing from agency to agency in the hopes of finding somewhere that would hire me for good. The economy being less than favorable, it was hard to find a job in my field. 

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Taffeta the Doll by sek824 (NSFW)

Taffeta the Doll by sek824

“Happy Birthday, Emma,” I said, kissing my daughter’s cheek lightly.

“Thanks, Mommy,” she murmured, a small smile on her face.

“How old are you, sweet pea,” my long-term boyfriend, Roger, asked her.

Emma smiled. “Five,” she said proudly, holding up five fingers.

“Wow, you are getting so old!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her. “When I was your age, I’m pretty sure I didn’t even know how to count.”

I rolled my eyes. “That wouldn’t surprise me,” I admitted, gently hitting his arm.

“Mommy, can I open my presents?” Emma asked, looking up to me.

I couldn’t help but smile and nod at my beautiful daughter. She immediately reached for the biggest box. As she unwrapped the purple wrapping paper, she smiled in glee when she saw the face of a doll behind the plastic.

She giggled with excitement, ripping off the top of the box and pulling out the doll inside. The doll was glass and vintage, representing a Victorian style dress code. She had light brown eyes, fair skin, and dirty blonde hair that were wound into small ringlet curls.

“She’s so pretty,” she said, hugging the doll.

“What are you going to name her?” I asked, rubbing my daughter’s back.

“She looks like a Taffeta,” she said, caressing the doll’s face.

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In Response To This

Fi was a mess.  She’d been a mess for months at the very least, probably years at this point, but it was all the more obvious when she wasn’t sitting in an equally filthy cell that reeked more of blood and death than it did her own odor.  Everything about her was so caked with muck and gore that it was impossible to tell what she would have looked like clean any more.  Guessing the true color of her too-small clothes or her horrifyingly matted hair was impossible under the grime, and more brown-red was slowly staining the back of her shirt as she curled in on herself next to the strange sword she’d woken up beside.  Some instinct told her that the blade was safe and at this point she was willing to latch onto any sign of hope with both hands. At the very least this strangeness was giving her a break from the guards.  The air around the sword was surprisingly warm too and Fi wasn’t about to pass up a chance to bask in the heat while she still could.

Tortus stepped into the temple with a warm smile on his face. Today had been fairly well enough that it put him in a good mood. No rude customers, no issues with Majora, and the day had actually been nice compared to any other miserable days lately. If it hadn’t been raining, it was hot because of the rain. Though, to farmers he supposed this would be a blessing with so much rain and sun. He would have been in a good enough mood to hum, had he not liked the sound of his own voice. As he normally would, Tortus announced himself as he made way up to the sword chamber’s entrance. “Hello! Fi, I’m here-” The merchant paused at the doorway. His eyes immediately glued to the grotesque form in the room. At first, he didn’t know what it was, as he wasn’t close enough to get too may details. However, as he focused, he recognized the form as a malnutrition humanoid, but still unsure beyond that. “Hello? Are you alright?” He spoke carefully.

Cooking with Combustibles: Chapter 2 - Chocolate Fondue with Sandwich Cookies and Fruit

“I look so good.”

That was the first thing Runner said out loud as he stared into the mirror in the apartment’s bathroom. Sure, there had been the initial flipping out – going from two people to one, not existing and then being a person, with thoughts and feelings and, well, other parts – but this was the first complete sentence.

The voice. That was different. There was a lilt to it, very subtle, and that came from Sonic. But it also had Mumen’s depth and seriousness. It felt strange in his ears. And that wasn’t all that had combined together in some fashion: his hair was a mess of black and brown stripes, and two different colored eyes looked back at him.

He closed the door to take advantage of the full length mirror and immediately turned red (Mumen’s sense of modesty was clearly up front). “Wow. Um. Okay, so there’s that.” He grabbed a towel and covered himself, turning at an angle. Also…thighs. He couldn’t help actually running his hand down one. Solid thighs, too. And, um, thick. bigger than Sonic’s, for sure, and probably thanks to Mumen’s biking proclivities. He bounced back and forth between the balls of his feet and the heels. How fast was he going to be? He couldn’t wait to find out.

First things first though.

Heading back into the apartment’s main living space, he started fishing through both Mumen and Sonic’s clothes. There was going to be some trial and error, because despite his…larger…bottom half, he was still as slim as Sonic, long and lean. He finally had to settle on a pair of the hero’s cargo pants and a tight-fitting black shirt.

“Hmm. What the heck am I supposed to do with you?”

Mumen’s bike was in front of the door, a giant wheeled elephant in the room. Runner felt bad admitting it, but he didn’t really feel comfortable riding it. Because, unlike Mumen, Sonic…couldn’t ride a bike. Mumen hadn’t known that.

So was he just going to walk, then?


He smirked. He had other ideas.

Barou didn’t get up immediately. In fact, he didn’t get up for another two hours, and it was only because he had to take a leak.

He glanced up while washing his hands and noticed that his black and white hair was wild, utterly unkempt. He considered fixing it with one of Badd’s many, many, many expensive hair products, but opted to just lick his fingers and push it back a bit. The movement did little but…oh well.

“Now what?” he said to no one.

He glanced down between his legs. Hello, there. That part was definitely Garou’s. But…nah. Still exhausted from earlier. That had evidently come with both of them (heh, come).

Zenko was away at some school camping trip, so it was a relief that he wasn’t going to have to explain this. Not that he could. “When your Bro and his boyfriend love each other very much…” he muttered as he picked around in the cabinets for a snack, finally settling on a bag of taro chips. After a few, he felt himself pouting. The best thing about having the apartment to themselves was…well, hanging out together. And since it was just him, he felt kinda…lonely. Which was both fucked up and not fun.

“We should go get in a fight!” He said it gleefully. No point in just sitting around the apartment, yeah? “I mean, I ain’t gonna throw the first punch, but I can definitely finish it. I just have to make sure to find someone who has it coming.” He cracked his back, hands going down to his ass, giving it a squeeze before he glanced back at it with a pleased nod. “Business in the front, party in the back.”

He grabbed Badd’s bat and headed outside. There was a pause between when the door opened, a breeze hit his legs and the shrilly scream of his elderly neighbor filled the air. Then, he was back inside, laughing, doubled over.

“Ah, yeah, pants. Probably a good idea.”


Gentama stared down at his hands. There was flesh there - real flesh - and he rubbed his thumb across the knuckles of his other hand. He was kneeling on the floor, and it took a few seconds for him to register what had happened.


From his wrists to his shoulders was dark metal, but it didn’t feel entirely like what he could recall Genos’s body feeling like. Beneath, when he moved, it felt like there were muscles.

He brought his hands to his face and gasped.

There was skin there, too, except for two twin strips of black synthetic cording that went from his eyes down to his neck. The hair at the side of his head was buzzed short, and what was on top was fluffy. Soft.

The silence in the air was broken by sweet laughter as Gentama fell back on the tatami floor, hugging himself. When he realized that he could feel something - a heart? - beating in his chest, it made him giggle even more. Everything felt different: breathing the air in the clean apartment, every tactile sensation as he touched this extraordinary body, the small sounds of the city outside, the birds, the -

The sale.

Gentama leapt to his feet (which was a silly thing to do because he immediately nearly fell on his face). The timed sale was a few miles away and started in less than twenty minutes. He would have to hurry.

He grabbed one of Genos’s shirts. No. Too big.

He picked up the Oppai hoodie and tried that. There was a small tearing sound, and he immediately, very carefully took it off. Too small.

Then, his eyes fell on Sensei’s hero costume. It had the right amount of stretchy give to the material so…

As he was pulling it on, he heard Genos’s phone buzz, but when he picked it up, the screen was black. “Dang it,” he said, giving it a little shake. “Oh, well.” He tossed it back on the futon. “Let’s go!”

The hacker grinned, hitting a few keys and watching the code run down the screen like rain. The cell phone by the keyboard buzzed, and it was connected single-handedly while the other typed. “Man, I hate it when phones die like that. Crazy how that happens just when you need to get in touch with someone.”

“Chan-kun,” Kuseno said on the other side of the line. He had started sounding desperate. “They need to at least know what’s going on.”

“I’m sure they know exactly what’s going on.” Chan-kun actually had no idea. They had designed the fusion energy to work pretty flawlessly, but this was kind of a trial run. Dexterous fingers hefted the thick cords of Chan-kun’s neon hair back into something like a ponytail as they stood up, heading for the door. “I should get a hair cut. Don’t worry, pops. I’ll keep an eye on them.”

“How long will the effects last?”

“Dunno. Maybe a few hours? Maybe a few…days?”


“That’s it, few days at the most.”


“There are probably other ways to break them apart too. Stress, physical or emotional, anxiety, violence…” Chan-kun pulled on a pair of baggy cargo pants and some anime shirt that was sitting on the couch - the Hub - in easy reach. It didn’t even smell like take-out. Bonus points.

“That’s what I’m afraid of!”

Chan-kun grinned, grabbing sunglasses to finish the ensemble. How long had it been since they left the lab? No clue. “I’m sure it won’t come to that. You worry too much. Laters.” The phone was turned off and shoved into one of about twenty pockets.

Chan-kun headed out into the afternoon sun, immediately grimacing. Yup, it had been a while, it was painfully obvious. “Now…” they murmured quietly, “if I were a trio of superhuman monsters…where would I go?”

No turning back.

Ok. In the end I decided to write the AU, not sure how many chapters it will take, maybe three or four… five? I think more.
I really enjoyed writing it, and I kind of broke my onw heart while writing future chapters… I’m not sure if that means I’m good at writing, or that I suck a lot. But whatever, it was fun!

Remember: This is a Star vs The Forces Of Evil AU in wich there is Tomco, Male/Male.


Chapter 1: The Fire Demon.

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anonymous asked:

I LOVE your stories but they all seem to be set in the past! Could you do a story set in the present and not in the past without Frank if you could?

Hi Anon! Thank-you for reading my stories, I love that you love them as much as I do! I hope you enjoy my take on a Modern Jamie and Claire. 

Edit Jan.17: Second Posting to this story can be found here

    The rain pelted against his head as he stood in the town square waiting for her. Saying a quick curse as the water trickled from his scalp down his spine he couldn’t help berating himself, “Brilliant idea, Fraser! Try to impress the lass by wearing a kilt and leather jacket all while freezing your bullocks off. Just brilliant.”  
    Pulling out his mobile careful to shield the screen from the onslaught of rain, Jamie checked his recently missed calls, nothing. Texts, again nothing from Claire. Shifting from foot to foot in almost a hop, Jamie felt the goosebumps raise on all of his extremities as the wind picked up sending an icy spray up his kilt. “Jesus!” He exclaimed vainly trying to keep the soaked woolen fabric down.
    Thirty seconds since he last looked at his phone, still nothing. Where could she be? Was she standing him up? Nervous queasiness formed in the pit of his stomach as he frantically looked up and down the streets for any trace of Claire or a car she might be passenger in.
    “Where are you, Sassenach?” Jamie frowned down at his phone, another five seconds passed, still nothing.
     Tonight was to be their first official date despite having decided to date month prior. Between his round the clock deadlines and her surgical residency time was precious to them and normally was spent curled up at their shared apartment on the outskirts of Charlotte. Jamie smiled thinking of how they met outside a coffee shop six months ago.

    Of course he had been running late that day. His first day as an Investigate Journalist, and already failing to meet the most basic deadline, arriving to work on time. Jamie recalled one minute running across the street with the paper’s headquarters in sight, the next he was looking down into the strange whisky colored eyes of the most beautiful lass. An iced tea cup’s lid askew to his left, the contents soaking the curly brown hair of the lass beneath him.
    “Um, would you mind letting me go?” a soft English accented voice lilted up at him.
    Feeling his neck and face flush red, he let go of the woman and stood, proffering his hand to the lass. “I’m terribly sorry, I was—ah, well, I was no paying mind to where I was goin’.” The lass’s eyes widened at the sound of his accent as she stood.
    “You’re a Scot!”
    “Aye, last I checked and you are English if I ken my accents correct.” She smiled and nodded. “Aye, thought so and both of us use to the cold and mistin’ climates of the United Kingdom fatefully meet in the distant, muggy land of North Carolina.” He scowled then smiled relishing in her resulting laugh.
    “I’m Claire.”  She had said while squeezing the hand she had yet to release.
    “Pleasure, Claire. Name’s Jamie. I may be running a wee late for work, but it was my fault you are now wearing your tea instead of drinking it. Please let me buy you another?”
    He kept hold of her hand hoping she would let him stay with her a moment longer, even if it meant he was taken off print immediately.
    “You don’t need to bother with it. I have to be going, Frank is waiting on me. Perhaps another time?”
     “Oh, sorry lass, I dinna mean to keep you from someone.” His grip slacked but she tightened hers.
    Laughing she rifled through the bag that was slung across her body retrieving her phone. “Silly man, Frank is a beautiful black curly coated Labrador Retriever. Although since we’ve never met before it was an honest assumption, and I’ll forgive you for making it.” She had winked and handed the mobile to him. “Put your contact information in so I can take you up on that offer of tea, if it still stands?”
     He smiled and complied, knowing he would do anything to keep this woman smiling.

    “Jamie! What are you doing out in the rain you fool?” Claire’s voice jolted him to the present.
    “Waiting for you.” Unable to control the smile on his face he leaned down and kissed her open mouthed, cheeks turned up. “What took you so long, Sassenach. I thought you had mind to stand me up.”
    Smacking his chest Claire glared mockingly up at him. “The Uber driver got lost claiming he missed the turn-off due to this weather.” Rolling her eyes she grabbed his left arm dragging him across the street and into the coffee shop where they first met. “I didn’t tell you to stand out in this rain!”
     “Sorry, Sassenach. I couldna help if I had to be where it all began.”
     “Don’t do it again! Last I need is for Nurse Glenna to page me saying you’ve landed yourself a room for pneumonia.”
     “Aye, mo nighean donn, I’ll no wait for you in the pissin’ rain again.”
     “Good. Now, let’s get a cuppa and some biscuits and try to warm you up.”
    Nodding back at her, he let himself be dragged to the nearest booth before she left to order the tea. While in line she turned back smiling at him in a giddy sort of way and quickly turned back to give the barista their order. He patted the hidden pocket inside his leather jacket, feeling for the small silver and ruby ring he had placed there five and half months ago.

Creepypasta #547: A Sickness In Color

 I remember when I was just a kid, maybe 5 years old, I used to love looking at clothes. Really, it was color that I loved, and it was most often found in clothes and cartoons. My sister always wore the most beautiful colors. I remember this pretty blue summer dress and a bright pink blouse, those were my favorites. I also remember watching Rocko’s Modern Life, and loving the sort of pastel colors that were used to create the show. Batman the Animated Series and the dark bold colors that that show was built on. 

 Now, most of my clothes are brightly colored in some way, or contain multiple colors. My apartment has an eclectic group of furniture. Beautiful abstract paintings hang from my walls. My dad used to wear these brown steel toe boots everywhere. He used them for work, and just happened to wear them most of the time. I hated them. To this day, things without color, or are just bland to look at, seem to bother me. They get under my skin, and upset my stomach. I specifically remember seeing the school kids from a local private school walking around on field trips. An army of kids in gray bottoms and white tops, the boys with vile maroon ties. I threw up in the car, my mom thought it was motion sickness. This sickness started the day my cousin disappeared.

   I was playing with some toy cars and wearing my checkered shirt, it was my favorite, it was loaded with colors, orange and red and yellow and purple. My cousin, Olive, was sitting with me, watching as I mimicked the sound of roaring engines and pretended the dukes were driving my toys. She was always quiet and watchful, it was true for her entire 7 years. Meanwhile the adults were discussing plans for the day. My father had piles of paperwork to do and mentioned that he was going to test drive a used Toyota. It was difficult for my parents to get around when we only had the one minivan and they needed to do separate things. My mom, and my dad’s sister, Aunt Stephanie, were going to take me and Olive to the park, and they also wanted to stop at the post office because they both had some things they wanted to send to my great uncle back east. We were a very tight-knit family, even with those who lived on the other side of the country.

   My father dropped us all off at the park and then went about his business. Mom and Stephanie saw another mother that they knew, I think is was the mother of one of Olive’s friends, she was there walking her puppy. They chatted for a while as the puppy chewed some grass and I enjoyed myself on the slide. I liked the slide, it was attached to a fort that had three ways to enter: a web of blue ropes you could climb up, a green ladder, or a tall red pole, I would choose the color that matched my mood, but now I’m not 100% sure how I decided on that. When they finished they returned to me and called Olive over to us.

   “We’re going to run to the post office,” my mother said. “We won’t be long. If we let you play will you behave yourselves?”

   “Yes!” We both nodded.

   “And who don’t you talk to?” Stephanie asked.


   “Right. And what do you do if you feel unsafe because of a stranger?”

   “Scream with all my might!” We shouted.

   “Good. Be safe and don’t hurt yourselves!”

   As a kid, judging time is difficult. 3 hours at a park could feel like 15 minutes. I’m told that they were only gone for 5 minutes, but I’m not sure. It wasn’t long before a hatchback pulled up and parked on the street, it was a strange color, almost the color of pennies, except maybe brighter. Someone came out of the car and strolled up. Olive was attempting to climb a tree near the edge of the park, and the person began to talk to her. I couldn’t hear, but I stood next to the slide and watched because I thought it was strange. In a few moments she took the person’s hand and began walking back to the car, and they drove off. I couldn’t see who it was as they wore a red baseball cap, a long gray coat, and brown steel toe boots.

   I was confused and it took some processing before I realized that maybe I should be screaming. I didn’t scream, instead I sat down and cried out of confusion. When they returned, my mother wiped my tears and asked me what was wrong, I told her that Olive had left with someone. Stephanie was already frantically calling her name.

   There was a search party. There were helicopters, and hounds. And then, many weeks later, there was a funeral. They never found her. My family slowly fell apart. My father left me with my mother. Aunt Stephanie moved to Europe to get away from everything. By now my description has become legend in my town, some 30 years later, kids tell each other scary stories of the man who wears a long gray coat and a red baseball cap, and drives silently in a car made of pennies.

   My father died recently, he practically drank himself to death. One person said of him “His work ethic was one of a kind. He never stopped working. The one true testament to that is the number of steel toe boots that he had worn down.” My mother never stopped loving him, despite how he grew distant and angry. But she never let go. She made sure he was buried wearing a pair of those steel toe boots. 

   My description of the person in a long gray coat, red baseball cap, and a car colored copper yielded no results. Only one thing is certain. Olive knew not to talk to strangers.

Credits to: Chris Smith (http://christovixwrites.tumblr.com/)

Author’s note: 

This was written as my second weekly writing challenge. The challenge was as follows:

Genre Challenge: Mystery

Thanks for reading, please leave your thoughts anywhere you like!

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This story is copyright © 2015 by Chris Smith

mnemehoshiko  asked:

'i don’t know who you are but we keep running into each other on the street and getting into screaming arguments over the stupidest things and i’m actually looking forward to our next meeting bc you’re annoying as hell but gdi you’re hot as fuck and its kind of fun to argue with you’ au REYLO!!!

A gold star I tried modern AU, combined with “i’ve had a really awful day so i started kicking a car out of frustration and it turned out to be your car i’m so sorry” requested by several anons (I love that you were all on the same wavelength here) and “why are you dancing in your underwear to kelly clarkson in a public bathroom while brushing your teeth“ requested by @starssight​!


“Overall,” she tells him, “moody existentialism doesn’t quite feel like the right tone for what is essentially a swashbuckler.”

He manages a curt nod. “I know many critics who would agree with you.”

“Then they’ll probably also join me in bemoaning the fact that you killed your protagonist,” she chides.

“It comes with the job, unfortunately.”

“What— people taking issue with your narrative choices?”

“No.” He flashes a self-deprecating smirk. “Killing your darlings.”

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