just wanted to say I’m proud of everyone assuring Mark because of his new video, or sharing your story, etc. and I’m glad Mark was able to speak out about his worries, and I hope he knows that we’re always here for him- because he’s always been there for us.
Also this is my altar now!! I still feel like it’s missing something so I may add to it later. My old altar will be where I keep all my supplies and do the messy stuff, it really bothered me that my altar was always a mess so now that I have this set up on a bookshelf I can keep it nice and clean. I also taped up some fairy lights so that it’s easier for me to work in the dark, plus it fits my aesthetic lol.
”Visually we obviously stripped down the shell of a current, successful rock band. We opened it, repainted it and filled it with mechanical parts. A machine does not get corrupted by greed, insanity and envy like some humans do.”
If you don't mind me asking, how did you get amazing in lineless art? I'm still a newbie artist, and that style is very difficult for me, so I really admire you art proficiency! Sorry to bother and thank you very much!
Ahh thank you!! I find lineless particularly easy and fun since you don’t have to fill lines, it’s ok to get it a bit different from your initial sketch, try to not box yourself a lot!
If you don’t do it already use different layers for each color/shape if you’re afraid to ruin something
I also feel it particularly concentrates a lot on color picking because it has no lines to differentiate what is what, or making an appealing combination can also be a bit hard! A really good idea is to study about contrasts, saturations, its temperatures and everything related to color
If you want palettes to practice with @color-palettes is a really cool place to pick combinations from, theres always something to learn from the limited color palette challenge o/
Please stop doing this to yourself,
There are good ways to live I promise.
They might not include ‘A’s or a flat stomach.
I promise though, its good.
The first way to live,
Is really quite simple
You just keep smiling and are filled with energy,
Constantly laugh and jump and run, you’ll be wrecked in the night
I promise you though, its good.
The second way is to read and read and learn,
Novels and newspapers, good ol’ movies, you’ll be called a nerd.
I promise you though, its good.
The third way is more complicated
Not everyone gets it.
You must love who you love and everyone else,
Hug strangers, volunteer, and never shut anyone out
You will be popular, without even trying or wanting it
I promise you though, its good
The last way is the hardest
And don’t you fret, not many people have accomplished this,
Love who are without knowing who you are
Love that you love food
Love that extra bit of fat
Love that you have green eyes
Love that make a damn good cup of tea.
There are so many good ways to live, so what is holding you back?
So I'm a bit of a fledgling just now really getting into witchcraft after being exposed by a friend, but there's some things I'm just not certain of. Do I need to have an altar? Do I have to have some sort of patron deity? Or can I just do witchy things in order to take some control back in my chaotic life (like fortune charms and confidence boosting glamours and spells)? Any advice for a newbie is appreciated!
Hey, welcome! You don’t need an altar or a patron deity if you don’t want to! You are totally welcome to have one if you like, but its not needed. I don’t have them, for example. I have a bookshelf filled with plants and where I store things, but its no an altar space. I also don’t have a patron deity. ;) You can totally practice witchcraft or do witchy things with or without those things! <3
Another explosion rocked the ship to its core, the lights flickered wildly before returning to their dimmed state, and the metal of the old boat groaned as it swayed. The hallways, once filled with scientists and engineers alike, were cold and barren. Computer screens and monitors littered the floor while blood painted the walls, the corners of nearly every room were encrusted with a thick, black sludge tangled within a grisly compilation of bones and entrails. Two more explosions tilted the boat, and from above on the hull, the sounds of a helicopter grew near and far within minutes.
He would most certainly have a headache later.
He had one now, actually. But that was to be expected considering he was just blasted through the deck by rocket launchers and apparently a satellite with homing missiles. Didn’t he deactivate that? He swore to himself he did, why would they still need that?
Heaving a deep sigh, Albert Wesker forced his body forward and every bone in his body seemed to crack and snap in protest. He rolled his head about his shoulders and looked up at the hole in the roof he had created, the full moon shone brilliant rays upon his now broken glasses and the rubble around him filled the little compartment with steam from broken pipes and heated missile fragments. While he was expecting some interference by the brutish Chris Redfield and whatever little team he managed to scrap together, Wesker found it very annoying that the hero had not only pushed past his limit of seven minutes, but somehow managed to take down his Uroboros project for a second time. Drastic changes were to be made in the security systems and perhaps this time those corporate Umbrella fools will listen to him when he suggests real humans as guards instead of the slobbering, mindless, walking dead that they had administered to him.
Wesker finally stood up, letting the debris of his fight fall from his ripped coat and stretching himself out completely. He had minor injuries, his ability to regenerate working tenfold to recover from his fall, however, his pristine skin was now caked in dried blood and the bruising on his arms and back would most certainly take a bit longer to disappear than his immediate lacerations. With an unbound sense of grace, Wesker rolled his shoulders back and jumped into the air, his massive tentacles wrapping around his muscular form and then splaying themselves wide, leaving an evangelical shadow upon the wreckage of the ship. The feeling of cool air against his skin helped soothe the now throbbing migraine in his temples and, simply for show, he twirled himself in the air before landing lightly on the tips of his combat boots. Crimson eyes scanned the destruction of the battle, soft embers burned and died as the wind suddenly grew colder, and the tall blond was more irritated with the fact that so much of his time and effort was now null and void. Though he would later blame it on the incompetency of others, his pride was genuinely hurt, and for a moment he questioned himself and this so called perfect form that he had acquired.
“No matter”, he thought aloud, “this is simply an inconvenience in my master plans. Better preparation and precautions will be taken into account.”
And it was then he heard it. A soft, careful noise. It was muffled, stifled, as if it were regretting the release of such a sound. Wesker patiently waited, stilling all of his movements just to be sure he heard it correctly. There was no other person on this ship, none that were alive anyways, but the faintest noise continued to come from behind the large cargo load on his right. The flames in Wesker’s eyes rekindled as he locked onto the spot. He could feel the points of his teeth press against his lips until they broke through to form a snarl. The blood in his veins boiled as he prowled to the cargo load, the previous annoyance transforming into a contained fury. The corners of Wesker’s thin lips twitched upwards as he walked, while he couldn’t have his revenge on Chris just yet, he would take great pleasure in tearing apart whoever they left behind. He made sure each of his steps were loud and obvious, practically be stomping as he approached.
“What a pity,” he taunted, indulging in the soft whimpers that his strong voice provoked, “ It seems as if your little team has abandoned you.”
He stopped abruptly, the smirk on his face only growing as he outstretched his hand onto the corner of the load, “Truly a pity…” The growl in his voice grew deep and fierce as he thrust himself around the corner and into the face of the person below him.
Beneath him was one of his own agents, the rookie from S.T.A.R.S., broken and bloodied. She held her pistol with shaking hands, her beautiful glossy eyes, shimmering from tears, were filled with fear. Her beautiful lips were bruised and bleeding, and the way she gripped the gun so lopsidedly meant one of her arms were damaged. Her hair was matted and stuck to her forehead by a mixture of blood and sweat, and just by the sight of her he knew that she had fought hard in these last few hours. But something in him dropped, was it is heart, his soul? He felt this overwhelming sensation rush over him, nothing like anything he had ever felt before. And while he tried to evaluate it, he felt the compulsion to move. It was completely unlike him, he is normally so calculated and organized, he typically evaluates every situation and thinks of every possible outcome. And besides, aren’t all these soldiers expendable? So why was he suddenly shaking? Why did his breath catch in his throat and guilt flood over him like this? The next thing Wesker knew, he was on his knees, his calloused hands stroking away the grime of battle from her face, catching all of her tears in his palms. He couldn’t speak for some reason, either. Every time he opened his mouth, silence followed until he shut it, the soft clink of teeth inaudible over her soft crying. But he held her, he pulled her tightly into his chest and began to rock, almost comforting himself as his thick arms wrapped themselves around her small body. And then the thoughts came. What if he had lost her? She was the most devoted to him than any other agent, soldier, scientist or anything in between ever was. What would he do if he didn’t have her bounding behind him in the hallways? Or to sit next to him as he worked on his paperwork?
Wesker lifted the little agent with relative ease, he slipped his jacket from his shoulders and bundled her up in it, it was the only thing he could think of at the time. He could hear the sound of another helicopter overhead, and a blinding light shone on the floor ahead of him. He secured the girl in his arms and threw his tentacles forward, latching on to the landing bars of the helicopter and lifted them both into the aircraft. He immediately took a seat away from the open door and peered down onto the now sleeping face of his agent. The ride to the base wouldn’t be long, but in this moment, it felt like an eternity. When they finally landed, though he was reluctant, Wesker handed her over to a medic to be patched up. He watched as they arrived her off behind large black doors, leaving him with his thoughts once again. Her smile in the mornings, her frizzed hair and cup of coffee in that strange cat mug she loved so dearly. He hadn’t realized how much he treasured them until now. What would he do without her giving him updates on the facility? What about when he trains? Who would watch over him or sit on his back and eat doughnuts and read the paper while he did his daily reps of push-ups? Who would try to spot him, though with his incredulous strength he would never need to be, when he lifted weights? Who would try to keep up with him when he goes for jogs in the morning and late at night when he trains the soldiers? Who would be there for him, thick and thin, like she has? And his answer became very clear the moment he took the time to consider each question: No one. No one except for her. And it was now he knew what that feeling that seemed to wring every organ in his body was. It was fear. Albert Wesker was afraid. He wanted to laugh at himself at the whole predicament; he, a god amongst men, was brought to his knees because he feared he was going to lose some little soldier. But by the ache in his heart, he knew better than to think that. No mere soldier would have him doubting his every move, have him so captivated to the point where he can’t even breathe properly, to the point every time the image of her looking so defeated on that damned boat flashed into his mind filled him with such an anger that hellfire looked tame in comparison, no, this was no mere soldier, this was a part of him he never knew existed, a part he never knew he needed until it was almost ripped away from him. Albert Wesker was afraid of losing her. Because by losing her, he would surely be losing himself.
He waited outside of the medical ward for hours, unmoving, staring into the abyss as he became trapped in a labyrinth of questions and thoughts, until the sight of scruffy shoes filled his vision and brought his attention back into reality. An elderly looking doctor, no more than 50 or 60, looked down upon the bowed head with very clear fear in his eyes. Wesker’s own eyes reflected off of the doctor’s spectacles, leaving a ghastly glow in their wake. The doctor spoke with what sounded like an Austrian accent and told the intimidating blond that the girl was fine and he was welcomed to see her. Taking no further instruction, Wesker rose from his seat, walked into her ward, and promptly picked her up and left. He ignored any to all protests, whether came from the doctors or from his agent, he was moving on impulse again. He kicked in the doors to his quarters and gently laid her on his bed, he paused and stared at the sight of her beneath hm again, except this time, there was no fear in her eyes, rather, there was love and affection and things he had been so void of that he found himself awkwardly inching closer to her face as if he could chase down this feeling and catch it. But as random as they were, his impulses told him to move away and to the bathroom, were he drew a hot bath for her. Without a moment of hesitation, he returned to her, stripping off her medical gown and slowly lowering her into the bathtub. He then lost his sense of time and order, he knelt beside the bathtub, cupping the water in his large hands and pouring it over her delicate body. He took the time to admire her, staring at each of her bruises and cuts, cursing himself whenever he found a new one on her beautiful skin as he washed water over her. She was watching him just as intently as he was, and from the water, her hand rose touched his face. Wesker closed his eyes and leaned into it, her hand was so soft, so warm, compared to his. She was so different than any other woman he’s met, all of her love was so pure, so genuine, so real. His lips brushed against her wrist and he suddenly lifted himself from the floor and out of the bathroom.
When she finally emerged from the bathroom, a fresh set of pajamas awaited her on his bed. Wesker emerged from his small kitchen space and place what appeared to be a bowl of soup onto a desk, he had changed into his usual wear and was pulling his gloves onto his hands. He pointed to the soup and spoke rather monotonously,
“Eat this. You need to build your strength up. You are not permitted to leave this room until I return.”
He did not wait for a reply or even for a reaction before he took his leave, leaving his agent with a swish of his coat and a glare from behind a new pair of sunglasses.
He did not return until much later, he was somewhat pleased with himself as he had just received new and much more effective means of completing his missions. When he entered his room again, the television was on but all the lights were off. Through the glow of the news, he could see an empty bowl on the desk, along with crackers and few wrappers of protein bars with an almost empty bottle of water. On his bed was a bundle of covers and pillows and sandwiched between them lay his agent, fast asleep and softly murmuring in her dreams. Wesker removed his gear and leaned over the side of the bed to watch her more closely, the little bandage patch on her cheek had a crudely drawn heart on it and the wrapping on her hands and arms had other little characters drawn on them. He couldn’t help but to smile softly at the sight, and he suddenly felt another impulse, though this one he tried to fight against it. But after considering it, he caved in, she was asleep anyways. He leaned down and placed a kiss upon her forehead, her hair smelled of strawberries and it felt so soft against his face. He stared for a it longer before feeling the vibration of his phone in his back pocket. Great. Yet another meeting, but hopefully the fools will finally listen to him on his human guard idea.
He looked back at his agent one last time before he left out the door again. He spun his glasses in his fingers before nodding to himself. He slowly closed the door and made his way down the hall, turning to face the large window as the sun began to rise over the lush green hills. Albert Wesker had just made a promise to himself; he swore that his agent would never know fear like that ever again, not while he was around. Though the sun grew brighter in the sky, it was weak in comparison to the fire in his eyes, and as he continued to walk down the hallway he put on his glasses, he smirked. It was one hell of a promise to make, but he was determined, and the only thing he feared for now were the poor souls who would dare get in his way of keeping it.
Every kiddo you will encounter will have their own special set of needs which you must address but sometimes they’re big scary needs. Eating disorders are incredibly serious and deadly illnesses and if you (even for a second) think your kiddo is past the point where you can help, its time to call in professionals. But what about a kiddo in recovery or whose willing to let you help?
Well, helping them set a meal plan will go a long way. Part of recovery is planning out healthy meals at normal times and this is a big task for little hands so this is a great place you can step in. Help them create a sheet to fill in what they’ve eaten that day. Remind them to eat every day and ask them to send you pictures of their eating chart. Keep them accountable for their eating.
☝🏾this chart is a good basic idea on how you can set your kiddos up!
Another thing you can do is to help them battle negative thoughts. Contrary to popular belief, just telling them they’re skinny enough isn’t going to work (it’ll hurt more than help in the long run). What I would suggest is asking them what they’re afraid of, what’s the worst case scenario in their head. And then analyze it, see the flaws in the logic, kindly point it out to your kiddo. They probably won’t accept it easily but consistently helping them in this way can help!
Lastly: love them. Eating disorders are so much scarier for them than anyone else. Even if they want to get better it’s not easy. Watch out for your kiddo, step in when they can’t, hold their hand through the hard stuff, praise them every time they take a positive step.
Between the space that exists between this moment and the next, Elijah returned to himself.
The unended morning of Freya’s dream abruptly ended, leaving a hollowed darkness in its wake. He took his first breath with his eyes closed. Savored the feeling. And then…
And then the hunger came…
Blood. Blood was his first thought.
A gut-clenching incessant pulse of want he felt everywhere, heard everywhere, smelled everywhere. A driving need to drink shot through him and his eyes flew open, acutely aware of the living soul hovering above him.
He felt his fangs slide down, sharp and deadly despite their long disuse, could almost taste the blood on his lips. He could feel the blackness of his soul fill his eyes. This need inside of him was unholy. Dark and craven. Base and relentless. He had long ago lost the guilt of humanity. Blood must be spilled. The hunger must be fed.
And as he felt his body ready itself for a strike, Freya rushed out, “Hayley. Quick. Hayley is in trouble.”
The words abruptly silenced the rush of hunger and the world went red.
Elijah sensed her before he heard her….
He heard her before he saw her….
That defiant voice, filled with omen and strength, daring the much older vampires to meet her challenge. He was hesitant to help, fully aware that she had all but defeated an army by herself, so much fire she possessed, but he could hear the small thread of exhaustion in her voice and that is what compelled him to quickly eliminate those final threats to her.
The blood lust returned to him then, an ache he felt in his heart, rushing through his body, beating inside of his head, but that feeling paled in comparison to the overwhelming surge of emotion he felt when he looked at her.
She was magnificent. A warrior goddess. Standing surrounded by the shadows of death with nothing on but the blood of her enemies and the victory of the battle. Elijah felt a sense of reverence overcome him. This moment was sacrosanct. He lived because she willed it so.
Elijah did not know how much time had passed since he and his siblings were put to sleep or whether Hayley had found happiness with another. He did not know if her heart no longer belonged to him. But as he gazed at her from the shadows, he knew his heart would always be hers.
It was him…Elijah.
Hayley stood defiantly in a circle of bodies, fresh blood coating her skin, sweat mixing with the fear and adrenaline pouring from her, and the only thing she felt was…relief. A bone-deep relief. She had worked so hard and for so long to have this. To have just one more moment like this one.
As Elijah drew near, Hayley could feel him slowly seep inside of her, fill her soul and her body with him, with Elijah, and felt love pouring over her in waves, cleansing her of a soul-deep ache, one that was washed away with a faintly whispered, “You are not alone.”
Hayley smiled to herself and let the moment take her. Elijah was alive and breathing and here…to protect her as he had done so many times in the past. And as he placed his coat over her shoulders as if handling the most precious star in an midnight sky, she broke a little inside.
Love flowed out of her, bursting from her fingertips, from every pulse point in her body and she had to let him know how much….just how much she missed him. How much she needed him. How much she still loved him.
solangelo and #60? your writing is so good omg im jealous ❤️❤️❤️
Aaaaah! Thank you! I’m so sorry this took forever, I’ve had a crazy week this week and I haven’t had anytime to write! But, here it is!
Prompt: “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”
Nico’s lungs filled with the choking scent of cigarettes and alcohol as he made his way to the bar. The pounding beat of a techno song reverberated through the oppressive crush of hot, sweaty bodies and into Nico’s skull. He finally reached the other end of the room, where a long, forlorn-looking counter sat entertaining its few occupants.
Nico took a seat on one of the neglected barstools and asked the young woman behind the counter for a glass of water. She returned less than a minute later and handed him a glass, which he thanked her for before swiveling around to observe the activity at the opposite side of the space.
Drunken laughter mingled with the rumbling bass of the music. The crowd swayed and knocked against each other in a sort of joyful, haphazard dance. Slithering tendrils of purple-gray smoke rose from the assembly, while empty beer bottles rolled underfoot.
“I’ve not seen you here before,” an unfamiliar voice said. Nico whipped around to locate the source, and found himself face to face with a man who couldn’t have been much older than him.
He had golden hair that curled slightly and round blue eyes that glimmered with amusement. Freckles dusted the angular plains of his face, and a thin, white scar cut across his pointed chin. “You don’t come around here a lot, do you?” he asked. His voice was warm and mellifluous, almost musical.
“No, I’m not really one to frequent bars and clubs much,” Nico replied.
The boy raised an eyebrow, “Then what brought you here? Rough week?”
“No,” Nico replied, shaking his head. “More like my friend’s birthday.” He jutted his chin in the direction of the crowd, where Percy, Leo, and Jason were busy toppling over each other as they tried to keep up with the speeding rhythm of the song.
“Ah,” the boy replied.
Nico sipped his water and faced him, “So, what’s your name?”
“Will Solace,” the boy–Will–answered.
“And how’d you end up in this place?” Nico inquired.
“I’m a med student and finals are coming up, that’s all you need to know,” Will said. Nico chuckled and rested his elbow on the bar. There was something captivating about the way the light danced on Will’s sculpted features that left Nico unable to tear his eyes from him.
“How about I buy you a drink. Cheers to finals?” Nico offered.
A smirk flickered across Will’s lips. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”
“S-so what if I am?” Nico stuttered, his cheeks coloring.
Will leaned forward. The glimmer in his blue eyes seemed more pronounced now. “Well, then I’d consider myself pretty damn lucky.”
Nico’s blush deepened, and his heart hammered in his chest. He opened his mouth to respond, but his voice died in his throat.
Suddenly, Will averted his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, did I go too far?”
“No, no. You just caught me off guard that’s all,” Nico replied.
Will’s face relaxed into an easy smile, “What, you aren’t used to being flirted with?”
“People tend to avoid me,” Nico answered, shaking his head.
“You’re kidding me!” Will exclaimed. “With a face like yours I’d think you’d be fighting men and women off with a stick!”
Nico laughed. “No, they don’t seem to notice my natural charm,” he joked.
“Well, their loss, then,” Will answered. He yawned and stretched his arms.
“Tired, Solace?” Nico asked.
“Yeah,” Will answered. “This place is exhausting.”
“Then go home,” Nico said.
Will suddenly perked up at Nico’s words. “Oh, hell no,” Will replied. “Not without getting your number first!” He drew his phone from his pocket and held it out to Nico.
“You want my number?” Nico asked in surprise.
“Of course I want your number,” Will countered.
Finally, Nico took the phone from Will and punched in his number before returning it.
“I’m expecting a text from you sometime tonight, doctor’s orders.” Will said in a playful tone.
Nico rolled his eyes, “Whatever you say Will.”
He grinned, “Good night, Nico.”
Nico smiled in return, “Good night, Will.”
With one last wave, Will turned and disappeared into the haze of smoke and bodies on the other side of the room, leaving Nico’s heart pounding louder than the beat of the music.
I've had bad acne ever since I was in middle school, and a huge tip I recommend is buying tea tree oil and mixing it with water. Just get a spray bottle (a tiny one from the dollar store works) and put a couple drops of oil and fill the rest up with water! Spray it after you wash your face (when it's dry) and wait for it to dry and then moisturize. Its like an extra cleansing step! It rlly helped my acne so I just thought I would share :-) I love skincare lol
I really wish my skin liked tea tree oil because it’s so beneficial for everyone I’ve talked to about skin care 😭.
Does anyone else ever think about how Tumblr sort of has its own version of alternate universes?
Like, say, there’s a popular post with a fair amount of notes. You’ve seen it come across your dashboard multiple times. It has a fascinating discourse going, and replies are filled with witty additions and reaction doodles. Maybe you’ve even reblogged it once yourself. You simply take for granted that this popular version of the post is the only one that exists, the tried and true.
But then one day, the same original post crosses your dash again, but in this thread, the original post is met with an entirely different second reply, which then alters every response that follows. It’s much shorter, and there are no reaction doodles; the conversation discusses a different aspect of the topic. The entire course of this post and its history has been wholly changed by distinctly different reactions by those who read and shared it. You realize that the post you had always seen before is by no means the default, and that there are dozens of versions of this one burgeoning post. It was foolish to have assumed that the reality you were so familiar with was the only one to see.