stacked layers


Belgian architect group, Gijs Van Vaerenbergh, built a church in Belgium, and it’s pretty plain from certain angles. From others, the structure reveals itself to be something else entirely: a building that’s almost entirely see through. 

The project, named “Reading Between the Lines,” is a composition of 100 layers of stacked steel, that are equidistantly staggered in a way that illusively change in appearance based on where the viewer is standing.


“The cake was a magnificent thing, rich and creamy with the perfect amount of coconut.” -The Reptile Room by Lemony Snicket

Uncle Monty’s Coconut Cream Cake

Cake Ingredients

  • 2 sticks of butter, softened
  • ½ cup of vegetable oil 
  • 3 cups of sugar from the sugar bowl
  • 5 eggs
  • 1 cup coconut milk
  • 3 cups of flour
  • 2 teaspoons of baking powder
  • ¼ teaspoon of salt

Cake Directions

  1. Preheat oven to 350˚F. In a large bowl, stand mixer, or diving helmet, cream the butter, oil, and sugar. Add eggs and beat. 
  2. Mix flour, baking powder, and salt. Alternate adding the dry ingredients and coconut milk, stirring until homogenous, a word which here means “uniform in consistency.” 
  3. Evenly divide cake mix into three 9-inch cake pans, oiled and floured. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. 

Frosting Ingredients

  • 16 oz of cream cheese
  • 3 cups of powdered sugar
  • 20 oz of shredded coconut
  • ½ teaspoon of vanilla extract 

Viscid Frosting Directions

  1. Mix together the cream cheese, sugar, vanilla, and about 2/3 of the coconut. 
  2. Stack the layers of the cake, applying copious amounts of frosting between each layer. Cover the outside of the layers with the remaining frosting. 
  3. Press the remaining shredded coconut onto the outside of the cake. 
  4. Refrigerate overnight. 
Dating Gabriel Would Include:

Originally posted by gabriel-of-the-day

Author’s Note: Whenever I posted about the next “dating x would include”, everyone seemed to want Gabriel! I hope you all like it. This is so far the four one of these, we have Sam, Dean and Castiel. - Haley xx

  • Him telling you stories of Heaven and what it used to be like
  • Hiding you from his brothers and sisters for as long as he can
  • Gabriel loves his siblings, but human an angel relationships aren’t very welcoming
  • Still calling him Loki from time to time
  • Spontaneous trips around the world in a blink of an eye
  • Being proud of him when he stood up to Lucifer
  • Going along with his plan to remain dead for a while
  • Calling him Gabe to make him mad
  • Meeting because you are a prophet
  • Gabriel letting you see his wings
  • Which are stacked with many layers and bigger than anything you’ve ever seen
  • And golden
  • And that makes him warm because his wings give off a lot of heat
  • Cas becoming friends with you
  • You annoying the Winchesters because you don’t want them to hurt Gabe
  • Tons of food play during sex
  • Being in the Casa Erotica dvd that Dean found
  • Gabriel giving you ridiculous food pun nicknames, like honeybun
  • Cas reminding you all the time that Gabriel isn’t cute and an archangel that could kill you
  • But still being one hundred percent in love with him

One of the factors that complicates geophysical flows is that both the atmosphere and the ocean are stratified fluids with many stacked layers of differing densities. These variations in density can generate instabilities, trap rising or sinking fluids, and transmit waves. The animations above show flow over two ridges with dye visualization (top), velocity (middle), and contours of density (bottom). The upstream influence of the left ridge creates a smooth, focused flow that quickly becomes turbulent after the crest. The jet rebounds as a turbulent hydraulic jump before slowing again upstream of the second ridge. Like the first ridge, the second ridge also generates a hydraulic jump on the lee side. Clearly both stratification and the local topography play a big role in how air moves over and between the ridges. If prevailing winds favor these kinds of flows, it can help generate local microclimates. (Image credit and submission: K. Winters, source videos)


imagine; you freak out and try to leave and he’s there for you. idk basically, i had a bad night and this just distracted me. pretty sure it sucks, srry.


“You really are the most frustrating person on this whole goddamn planet,” Josh says loudly, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

You sat quietly on the bed, your hands in your lap, fiddling with a hangnail.  

Josh thought you were ignoring him.  

You weren’t.

Every sentence, every syllable he uttered sank deeply into your brain, settling and stacking like a layer of bricks in your mind.  

“I’m sitting here-“ he says, “actually begging you to say something, literally anything.”

You remain quiet, your head hung low.  

“You’re empty,” he says objectively.  “Are you even a person anymore?”

That one hurt.  You peel the skin back sharply, blood immediately surfaces.  A bright red drop in a gray room.  It’s pretty.  Like a rose.  You’re not empty.  You’re full of lots of things.  Terror.  Dread.  Anxiety.  Fear.  Exhaustion.  Pain.  You were practically overflowing with it all.  You just wished your insides were as pretty as the red rose on your finger.  

Josh sighs at the silence.  Letting his head hang low before standing up.  

“I have to go to the studio,” he says quietly, “I’ll see you.”

You don’t move until a few minutes after you hear the front door close shut.  Even then, it takes you a while to muster up enough energy to stand.  

With shaky hands and droopy eyes, you hastily grab the duffel crumbled in the corner of your closet and fill it aimlessly with your things.  

When you and Josh first started dating seven months ago, you remembered thinking that maybe this could be it.  Maybe he could be the one to make you feel again.  He made you laugh.  He made you angsty and excited and adventurous.  He made you hopeful.  

It wasn’t until the last few weeks that you’d noticed the honeymoon phase had faded.  The butterflies had settled.   You knew it was too good to be true.  Your doubts slowly creeped their way back into your mind, reminding you that you weren’t good enough.  Your mind had gotten bad again.  That scared you.  You never wanted Josh to see this side of you.  The drained and defeated side that could never be conquered.  The anxiety that would always win.  

He was already getting sick of you.  You could tell.  You knew from the get-go that it was only a matter of time.  But now that the time was actually here, you couldn’t help but wish with every fiber of your being that you were different.  Better.  But the fighting had become endless and if there was one thing you were good at, it was running away.  

So that’s what you did.


The house was eerily quiet when I returned from the studio later that night.  It wasn’t that late, Y/N shouldn’t be sleeping yet.  She’d been constantly tired lately though, so maybe a good night’s rest would be good for her.  

My stomach had been an almost constant pit of worry in the last few weeks or so.  Y/N was slipping away.  The two of us had gone from laughter and joking and cuddles and secrets to me never knowing what was going on in her head.  

That worry intensified as soon as I walked into the bedroom to find the bed made neatly and Y/N’s dresser drawers opened and empty.  My chest tightened as I ran frantically around the room, checking for her most valuable items, finding them all gone.  

You knew.  You knew she’d leave.  

She’d finally gotten sick of you.  

You knew it was only a matter of time.

That didn’t make it hurt any less.  


You went to Jenna’s.  You really didn’t know where else to go.  You forgot to call ahead of time.  Knocking on the door at nine thirty at night didn’t seem so invasive until you were in the act of doing it.  

Jenna answered, clearly confused to be greeting you, exhausted and holding a duffel.

“Y/N? What are you doing?”

“I don’t really know anymore,” you answered truthfully.

She let you in, of course.  

“Where’s Tyler?” you asked casually, trying to avoid the real questions Jenna obviously had for you.

“He went to Mark’s for a bit after recording, something about new ideas for a music video,” Jenna said, taking your bag for you.  She didn’t press.  But she kept giving you sideways looks filled with concern.  

Finally you gave in.  

“I left,” you say.  

“I gathered that much,” Jenna remarks, sitting beside you on the couch and handing you a glass of water.  

You thanked her, taking a sip.

“Did you guys get into a fight?”

You shake your head, “Not really.  I just-“ you pause, unable to find the words.  Instead you let yourself trail off.  “Don’t tell Josh I’m here.”

“Y/N, what is going on?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples and suddenly feeling so tired.  You’re tired of disappointing Josh.  You’re tired of not being good enough.  You’re tired of being unloved and so damaged.  

“Y/N?” Jenna repeats, louder this time.

Suddenly, things start feeling way to crowded.  Everything is closing in and you really just need it to stop.  You need Jenna to stop saying your name.  You need to just shut it all off for a bit.  

“I just need to lie down-“

“No,” Jenna says sharply, “Y/N, tell me what the hell is going on?  You’re acting crazy-“ she reached out and gently touches your shoulder.  That’s all it takes.  The slight contact sets you off.  

Your breathing instantly increases and you let out a loud sob, standing up hastily and rushing for the door.

“I can’t-“ you choke, trying to find the door knob through the tears that were starting to cloud your vision.  You finally hoist it open and dart down the hall, just wanting to escape it all.  


The text came through about half an hour after I got home.  

“She’s here, pretty upset, you should come.”

I respond to Jenna with a quick, “okay, thanks,” before grabbing my keys and heading out the door.  

I drum my thumbs anxiously on the steering wheel, the headlights making the fog look thicker in the night.  Part of me doubts even coming out.  I was afraid to approach Y/N.  What if she didn’t want me around?  What if I was what was making her so miserable lately?

I’m turning onto Jenna and Tyler’s road when I see a figure huddled on the ground.  I immediately pull over, just instinctively knowing it’s her.  I remember Jenna’s text.  “She’s upset.”

I fling open my car door, forgetting my doubt and fear completely.


You don’t make it very far outside before you collapse.  Everything inside of you aches.  You think back to seven months ago.  You think about being happy and carefree and light.  You wish you could go back.  You ache for the colors you no longer see.  You ache for the laughter that no longer escapes your lips.  You ache for Josh.  His smile, his voice, his touch.  

And you think you must be going crazy.  

You barely notice the headlights casting your shadow on the grass in front of you.  You barely hear the slamming of a door.  You barely recognize the figure running towards you.

You let out a loud cry when he kneels down beside you.  You try fight to fight his embrace, twisting your body side to side and shaking your head.  You want to run again.  You want to keep running, running, running, never stop.  But Josh’s arms are wrapped so tightly around you and he’s pulling you into his lap, cradling you to his body like a child.  He’s swaying you side to side, whispering in your ear.

You finally stop fighting.  It’s not working.  You can’t escape.  Big mistake.  As soon as you stop fighting his grip, you’re overwhelmed.  Overwhelmed with fear.  Overwhelmed with pain.  You grab at his tank top, squeezing the fabric between your fingers and let out a horrifying sob into his chest, the pain just too much to bare.  

“I’m sorry,” you’re crying out.  It’s all blubbery, incompetent.  But he has to know.  

Josh is gripping you so tight.  He’s actively pulling you closer and closer into his chest.  You wish you would disappear, melt into his chest, even.  You squeeze your eyes shut, letting his scent and the pressure of his body consume you.  

He’s whispering into your hair, “Shh, I’m here.  ’m right here, baby.  I’m right here.”  

He’s kissing the top of your head.  

He’s rocking with you on the ground so securely.  

You can almost breathe again.  

Your sobs subside.  You think it’s because Josh has actively collapsed both of your lungs, but you don’t mind all that much.  It feels lighter.  

He’s still swaying back and forth.  His arms are still locked around you.  

You’re tired.  On an entirely different level than most people are tired this hour of the night.  You wish Josh would keep talking.  His voice makes you feel better.  You’re too embarrassed to tell him that, though.  You decide the feeling of his bare skin touching yours is good too.  

You have no idea how long the two of you sit there before Josh realizes that you’ve been able to calm down enough.  

He pulls back slightly, immediately your chest starts to ache again.  You suddenly wonder if Josh would be willing to hold you together forever.  

He looks down at you, studying your tear-streaked face.  He wipes away some of the moisture with his thumb.  

You sniffle lightly before deciding you can breathe well enough to speak.  

“I’m sorry,” you say.  This time the words are clear.

He shakes his head, his eyes narrowing and looking so sad.  

“No,” is all he says and he brings you back into his chest.  “It’s okay, don’t be sorry.  Please don’t be sorry.”

Your eyes are heavy.  Your eyelids are swollen from crying so much.  You don’t close them though.  You fight the urge.  

“I’m not empty,” you whisper.

“Hm?” Josh asks.

“I’m not empty,” you repeat.

You feel Josh tense up.  He unwraps himself from you.  Your chest immediately starts to ache again.  

“I know you’re not,” he says, “I’m sorry I said that.  I just wish you’d open up to me more.  I wish you’d talk to me.”  

He sounds so sad.  It makes you hate yourself for causing that.  Josh deserved better, the voice said.  He deserved happy and positive and normal.  You swallowed hard.  You could do this.  You could trust Josh.  You could open up to him.  

“I’m very, very full.  Too full,” you say, trying so hard to articulate what was happening inside you.  “But I’m afraid,” you trail off, picking the right words, “I’m afraid that if I show them to you, you’ll realize that I’m not full of the stuff you’d like.”

Josh lets out a soft sigh and nods carefully.  

“I know,” he whispers.  “I’m scared of that too.”

You raise an eyebrow to him, “No-“ you argue.  “You’re good.  You’re special and you’re kind and creative and-“

“And needy and awkward and boring,” he finishes.  

You shake your head, “No.  No way.  You’re none of those things.”

“I still get insecure about them,” he says sighing.  

“Sometimes I get really sad, for no reason.  I can’t explain it.  I can’t make it go away.  Sometimes I don’t want it to go away.  It’s comforting.” You take a deep breath, “And sometimes I get really scared when you get upset or raise your voice.  It makes me want to shut down.  It’s not that I don’t care, or listen.  I just forget how to function.”

Josh nods, truly listening.  

“And most of the time, I feel like I’m not good enough for you, like I’ll never be good enough for you,” you say quickly, the words rushing out of you.  You exhale quickly, ridding the evidence from your mouth, truly scared of what Josh would say to all of this.

He doesn’t say anything at first.  He holds you tightly and starts to rock again.  

You sit like that for a moment before he reacts.  

“I know you’re scared.  And I get scared too, like when you run away and all that,” he sighs, “but I guess I’m just asking you to trust me.  Because I want all of it.  I like the laughs and the fun,” he admits, “but I accept the bad, too. The fights and the frustration.  The insecurities.  I want it all.”

You crunch your face up, overcome with admiration and gratitude for Josh.  You start to cry again, it’s not the earth-shattering sobs that felt like they were creating a gaping hole in your chest, though.  It was more like a relieved kind of cry.  

Josh knew it, too.  He rested his head back on yours and held you through it, not telling you to stop, not telling you it’d been long enough.  He stayed there with you, tracing patterns on your skin and whispering soft, soothing words into your ear.  

You started to believe him.  Maybe he really would accept all of you.  

For the first time in seven months, you felt that shimmer of hope you’d seen when you first met Josh.  That was enough to hold onto for now.


Milling Merlin

If you’ve been following along, Merlin, our ancient dutch elm has fallen this summer ( After a harrowing take down, we found someone locally to help us cut down the trunk with a portable saw mill. Like, I didn’t even know tools like this existed. This was an incredibly educational experience. As the trunk was milled, we stacked the lumbers with layers and layers of stickers. (About 200 pounds became saw dust.) We won’t be able to use the wood until next fall  - and that’s if we successfully cure this wood.

justeilraahstuff  asked:

Is there such a thing as using too many charms or spells towards the same goal? Do they layer or do they cancel each other out? Or is it all in how you word them?

(UPG ahoy)

It really depends on the type of magic being done. If you’re doing protective magics, some of them can layer (or “stack”) and thus augment each other. If you’re doing attraction magic, you really only need to do it once and then wait to see results. It helps to put a time limit on it, if you’re looking for something specific. I generally wait about a month to try a spell again, just in case the result is manifesting slowly or in subtle ways.

For magic that’s only supposed to work once in the short-term (as opposed to staying in place for the long-term), casting multiple times or in multiple ways is like that elevator analogy we’re all familiar with: pressing the button over and over won’t make it get there any faster.

It also depends whether it’s you doing all the magic or if it’s multiple people. I’d really need to know what sort of situation you’re talking about to be any more specific than that.

Recipe of the Day: Peanut Butter-Brownie-Coconut Layered Bars
Introducing the sweetest triple threat in the game: These layered bars stack up all there is to love about peanut butter cookies, brownies and coconut macaroons for an all-in-one, totally indulgent treat.

SNEAK PEEK: Dystopian Fiction about a Donald Trump Presidency

“Mom, how did I get my name?” asked 8-year-old Bernie Cinders as he fiddled with some Legos on the floor.
“You’re named after the best President who never was,” replied the teary-eyed mother, “What’s that you’re working on?”
“I’m making a model of the United States,” said Bernie, layering some stacks of red Lego bricks in a shape that vaguely resembled the USA.

“What’s the red part?” asked the mother, sitting absentmindedly at her computer, clicking around one of the millions of news websites. All Republican, of course. After Trump became president, he had furiously declared to a crowd all dolled up in Make America Great Again apparel that he would make sure “all slanderous and libelous material” would be “removed from America [sic].” In the months that followed, Trump’s supporters voted in Congressional midterm elections, replacing most of Congress with right-wing political extremists like Trump himself. Of course, Trump, with his billions of dollars, managed to buy a few million votes, too.

Congress swiftly passed a bill akin to the Alien and Sedition Acts of yore, declaring “It’s illegal to talk any shit about the Federal Government, and if you do, then fuck you! [sic]” The Supreme Court naturally retaliated, but a Constitutional amendment was soon passed, repealing the 1st amendment almost completely. Among the changes instituted:

-To anyone shitting on the Federal Government, fuck you!

-If you’re not Christian, fuck you!

Bernie’s mother clicked on a Fox News headline applauding Trump for his recent decision to have all Muslims publicly identified.

“That’s the wall, mom. Isn’t it obvious?” replied Bernie, stacking the red bricks higher and higher. “How high is the wall, mom?”
“I don’t know, honey. It’s quite high. Just look outside.” Indeed, in the distance, the great cement wall loomed on the horizon.

“Why is there a wall?”
“President Trump said so, dear.”
“Well, that wall is ugly. And so is President Trump. He’s an ugly meanie! With small hands!”
Bernie’s mom covered her son’s mouth protectively. “Shh, Bernie. Remember the 28th amendment–it’s illegal to talk any shit about the Federal Government. Never, ever talk any shit about President Trump’s hands…which I am sure are not small at all…no, not at all,” she reassured the camera that sat in the corner of their ceiling. The camera’s LED light, which had been initially blinking an angered bright red following Bernie’s comment, switched to a cautious yellow color.

“I hate Mexicans!” yelled Bernie’s mom, and the light immediately turned to a contented green. Bernie’s mom let out an exasperated sigh and let go of her son. “Don’t ever do that again,” she warned, and her son nodded, frightened.

chicago gothic

 chicago pizza looks like a disgusting meat cake. its just that. meat disgustingly rounded and stacked. layers and layers of meat. no one asks where it comes from. eat slowly.

sue has returned home to the museum of natural history. her body is posed with a fake skull on the first floor. her actual skull is on the second floor, in a glass case. you ask a curator why her head isn’t attached to her body. the curator starts sweating.

another body found in the river, sprouting and beautiful. spring is here. 

before the sun even rises you see the joggers by the lake, shrieking and running and leaping into the water before the sun can touch their skin.

sewer smog spews out into the sidewalks as you walk past. you hear retching and gagging as the concrete heaves under your feet.

 the day arrives that downtown isn’t under construction. the monster is complete. the sirens start to blare and the air goes still. 

the red line and blue lines have derailed and collided with each other, creating a newer, safer train- the purple line. this one has less teeth and fewer hands, but so many more eyes

a mother of a young boy was horrified when her son dug up a head on the beach. then another. and another. and another. an

the glass box in the willis tower lets you look over the entire city. yes, even the thousand gaping maws.

the winter is over. the thaw has hit the city. spring cleaning is here and the bodies are pushed back into the lake, bloated and heavy and still whispering.

I use Krita for digital painting cuz ps can eat it when it comes to drawing. Krita is great but there are some inconvenient things that I can’t find solutions for.

Things I like

1. So many preloaded brushes
2. The right click wheel thing
3. Blending brushes (i didn’t like these at first, but now I love them)
4. Actually seeing icons for brushes - kyles megapack is great but just reading a long ass brush menu is a pain in the butt
5. Zooming with the mouse wheel instead of z
6. Hand panning tool with clicking the mouse wheel instead of space - convenient if you’re already zooming with the mouse, many 3d programs use this so it’s intuitive for me
7. AUTO SAVES thank the lord ps is like the only adobe program that doesnt autosave and i dont understand

Things I don’t like/haven’t figured out

1. No clipping masks???? theres the clipping group thing but u can’t seem to stack clipping layers
2. The paint bucket tool doesn’t fill inbetween lines on other layers

3. can’t easily “place” images into your canvas
4.Buggy as hell - totally unusable before turning off open GL, brushes wont save to tags sometimes, won’t save my new presets, freezes sometimes
5. You can’t decide which brushes in a tag u want to show up in the wheel
6. Keyboard shortcuts - haven’t found some or some tools don’t have em. L doesnt go to lasso tool. I know u can set shortcuts. Im lazy.

If anyone has solutions for any of these it’d be appreciated

➼➽ Starter for @rctricvcr ➽➼

➼ { 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓴𝔂 𝓲𝓼 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓲𝓷 } ➼

The afternoon sun beat down on the battlefield mercilessly, sending waves of heat flowing from the sand. This day alone was rather unbearable. Below the sweltering sky was each set of mercs, sweating like dogs with empty water bowls.

Most with their wits about them would deem the day an indoor day. Most. 

While her team was off eating sandwiches and leftovers from Engie’s cooking the day before, Seeker ventured out from the base’s cool insides, pleased by the heat in comparison to her comrades. The sunshine felt wonderful to a winged being like herself, bleeding pink shadows through her feathers like theater gels. Her feet skipped along the wooden crates that lined the RED base’s exterior, assisted by wings as she ascended the stacked layers. It was getting rather dull without another moronic enough to be out. Even hopping up shipment towers was becoming tedious…so she’d search the BLU side! What’s more fun than bothering a BLU?

With a leap, Seeker flew her way across the grounds, massive wings boisterous within a silent vicinity. Anyone around could hear the FWOOMP of each flap, a fact that kept her senses on edge. She considered flying back after searching with no prevail, but a flash of aqua caught her eye. She smirked.

“Whatcha doin’ BLU?” She asked with intentioned energy, having just snuck her way around the corner to startle the other.