the-different-types-of-it-there-are

A heart-shaped protein

It turns out that the most abundant protein molecule in blood plasma – serum albumin (SA) – is shaped very much like a heart.

This protein does an astounding array of tasks in our bodies, such as maintaining normal fluid pressure in our tissues and transporting many different types of molecules in our blood.

The structure of the serum albumin protein is shaped like a heart.Credit: Wladek Minor, University of Virginia

I’ve held myself captive from sleeping until I finished this. 

But then i was too sleepy to type anything up! Anyways, I watched Mushishi’s Next Passage, which I liked a lot. I decided I also need to brush up on drawing foilage and nature in a more intentional and less ok-i-just-need-a-bg way. Still kinda working on that. I made myself try to draw an “average tree” to not just rest on the inherent coolness of pines and cedar.

The Butterfly Coat Rack is made of a pair of mobile brass hooks and a plain exotic wood block – either in Movingui and nickel-plated brass or Rio rosewood and polished brass.

This coat rack was first conceived to support four clothes and two hats. Today the upper part can be used to hang different types of garments without deforming them.
Both models have been handmade with the same level of craftmanship and material quality as those recently found in Wabbes’ family attic.

It is the first time this piece is being manufactured since its conception, making it a rarity and an exclusivity of GEDE.

Leran more on General Decoration’s website

Photography © Jan Verlinden

How to Let Go of the People You’ve Loved

First, you need to be ruthless. You need to take a count of every hand you’ve ever held, and of the mixtapes, and the letters, and the messages you typed and then deleted. You must remember you at fourteen, and you at eighteen, and you right now. You need to feel how tightly your fingers are wrapped around those not meant for you, and you must begin to let them go.

Start with the “not so” love. The one that got away because you were too young to know any different. Remember how the air was knocked out of your lungs when they called and told you it was over. Remember how young you were and how big that felt. Dig out the box with the dried corsage, and throw it in the trash. Think of how he was movie dates, and butterflies, and how some days, even now, you imagine what it would be like to run into him in the middle of a crowded city far away from who you’d once been. Take him for who he was, and one last time whisper “thank you, thank you, thank you.” Roll up all the clichés you’ve ever heard about teenage love, and let go of the boy with blowtorch hands.

Now you have to let go of the ‘small town’ love. It will take more than throwing out dried flowers, and it will feel a little like trying to scrub off a tattoo in permanent ink. Remember how easy it was. Remember all the years, and the moments in those years, and the heart in those moments. Try to forget the smell of bubble gum, and fireworks on the Fourth of July, and all those night drives home on country roads. He was pep rallies and sweet sixteens. You clung to him even when you knew you would leave. Forgive yourself for leaving, forgive yourself for the forever you some days believed in, forgive home for growing too small. Think of how good it was, how, in a different universe, that might’ve been it: then let it go. There will be bruises when you finally uncurl your fingers from his bicep. It’s time to let those bruises heal.

Next think about the boy that came after. The one that showed you a world beside the only one you’d ever known. Remember the way he talked about the South and how you wanted in on the mystery of it. Remember starting new, and being alone, and seeing him. Think of how his gaze felt like fire, and how you knew all too well that’s what you were playing with. He was eighteen, and freedom, and sitting on a bench alone at 3 AM. Put space between you and the color green. Let go of every night spent inside a whiskey bottle, and know the difference between love and lust.

And then the boy you never asked for. He walked into your room one night and it seems he never left. Wonder where he is right this second. Find those letters and read them one more time all the way through. Read them aloud. Remember all those lazy afternoons and the awkward pauses and running home in the rain—how you were on the ground, bleeding knees, before you ever even knew you’d fallen. Close your eyes and relive a few more moments: that night with the honeysuckle, or the postcard in the mail, or New York City in June. Understand that even if you had a choice, arms can’t stretch across oceans.

Revisit the boy you met lost in the middle of jet lag. How he smiled, and he felt a little like home, and there was nothing else you needed in that moment. Remember those red busses and the way the air rushed to meet your face as you held hands running down into the underground. Think of the rainy days, and the river, and the smoke in your lungs just to test the boundaries. Unclench your fists from the nights spent nine stories about the ground. Know what you were to each other, and how good that was while it lasted. Think of him whenever you listen to that song.

While you’re at it, let go of those you could have loved if the weather had been different or you hadn’t been running late that morning. Let go of missed dinner reservations and saved voicemails and all the scraps of love that you saved because you thought you might need to remember one day. Now look at you, how brave you are, to let go of all that love and the pieces you left with them along the way. It is baby steps. It is deep breaths. It is knowing that you have always been nothing but whole. Somehow, too, it is knowing that letting go doesn’t mean forgetting. It just means there are no more dried flowers underneath your bed.

How to Brooklyn pt 3, or

The ubiquitous tenement, or Types of Houses They Might Live In.

So it’s about -10 right now in Brooklyn, so thanks to everyone for giving me something to do while I’m stuck in my apartment, trying not to freeze!

Okay, so now we’ve talked a little bit about what kind of neighborhood Steve grew up in, and how Steve and Bucky would get around.  Let’s talk about what kind of places they might have lived in.

Although we associated the word tenement with shitty slum life, back in the day this just what people called apartments.  You’ll see the word tenement associated with a lot of different types of buildings - from the shitty slums all the way up to nice, “efficiency-style” apartments for the “modern” city dweller.  There is an overlap between the type of buildings I’ll discuss below and what we picture as tenement buildings, but all row houses are not tenements, and all tenements are not row houses.  Sound complicated?  Don’t worry, I have a ton of pictures under the cut.

Keep reading

Sleep Headcanons

Eris sleeps splayed out, taking as much space as possible. She moves even when she isn’t having nightmares, pawing around as if she’s looking for something. A darker interpretation would say that she’s checking for walls; used to tunnels, when she gets a bed she uses all of it. Sleeps with her back to something.

Toland sleeps like a corpse, very still on his back with his hands folded. Snores.

Ikora has a hammock hung with curtains and bells. She can sleep through almost any noise; it’s loud thoughts that bother her.

One of Zavala’s few concessions to his status is a ridiculous four-poster bed, Awoken-elegant, made out of recycled and scavenged wood.

Cayde recharges sitting beside four different go-bags for different types of apocalypse, either world-wide or personal.

DON'T BE THIS PERSON

Listen, I’m all about voicing your opinion. But I have this one friend and she pisses me off so much. She’s always saying how great a rapper Eminem is and what an amazing band TOP are. That’s great and all but the moment you say anything different she goes on a rampage. Like how the fuck would you know if I’m wrong. Those are the only two artist you listen to. And if you try to call her on her bullshit she gets mad and says she has a right to state her taste of music. Oh yeah of course you do.

BUT IF YOU ONLY LISTEN TO TWO TYPES OF MUSIC AND YOU ONLY LISTEN TO ONE ARTIST FROM THAT GENRE YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TELL ANYONE THAT WHAT THEY LISTEN TO IS BAD.

LIKE I HAVE NO PROBLEM SAYING HOW I FEEL ABOUT CERTAIN ARTIST. BUT THAT’S BECAUSE I LISTEN TO DIFFERENT ARTIST FROM THAT GENRES SO I HAVE A WIDE VARITY OF STYLES OF THAT GENRE. BUT YOU CAN’T SAY SHIT IF YOU’VE NEVER HEARD SHIT FROM OTHER ARTIST.

Thank you and have a lovely day.

anonymous asked:

Who's hotter maxon or Nick? Nick has a sexy voice and maxon has a sexy set of hair I like his hair style it's pretty cool do you know who voices maxon his voice sounds awfully familiar

Oh, hey now. That’s not a fair question. They’re sexy in different ways. Nick is all charm. He’s the kind of man I want to take me out on a nice romantic date, maybe some old fashioned dancing..and then some slow, sweet love making. Nick is…slow seduction like you know he wants it but he’s a tease and by the end of the night you just want him to take you home. And damn..that voice. 

Maxson..oho..Maxson is the type of man I want to bend me over the nearest piece of furniture and fuck me until my throat is raw from screaming yeah. Rough, dirty, messy, nasty sex. Then after I cuddle up against his warm chest while he strokes my hair..okay, I’ll stop now. 

However..I mean I think both characters are capable of both tho. i would die before I say no to Nick getting filthy in the bedroom or Maxson taking me on a romantic date. 

And this is Maxson’s voice actor (swoon)

Myself: Derpy Hat, Spy Glasses… Seems Legit (2014)

This is a charcoal self-portrait drawn on newsprint for a college Drawing class. This time, I had to draw myself in a hat and glasses, and I used a bit of Conte crayon to give it some color.

If I was going to have to dress up for this portrait, I was going to dress up in style, so I chose my sock monkey (I named him Cecil) and a pair of glasses with a built-in heads up display from an old laser tag game. Because I love drawing Cecil and I love those glasses.

I feel so cool wearing them. Like a spy. *cue theme music*

Now, Cecil just looks derpy in this one. XD

This is just one in a series of charcoal drawings from that class that can be found in my deviantart gallery.

anonymous asked:

helloo 🙆 can you please please please pretty pleaseee rcommend some jealous draco fics? your recs are the best ive seen in this entire fandom 💓 ilysm 💩💩

💓💓💓 yourself, anon!! That was a lovely message to wake up to!!

I’ve gotten requests for jealous Draco before and I’ve asked this before without getting an answer, but…I’m not really clear on what people are looking for when they ask for jealous Draco that I haven’t already done? Is it about a specific type of jealousy? Is it really a request for leather pants Draco? How is jealous Draco different from possessive Draco or pining Draco or unrequited Draco, all of which I’ve made rec lists for?

As I say on my FAQ, I really can’t fill requests when I don’t know what they’re asking for. I’m sorry, anon, especially after such a lovely ask! But I will refer you to these potentially related lists and hope you find something that suits:

Hope that helps, anon, and have a lovely day!

Strange Magic Fanfic - “Spectrum”

Everyone deserves to be loved, and Love covers a strange and magical spectrum.

A collection of one shots celebrating the different types of Love in Strange Magic.


In honor of Valentine’s Day and the Strange Magic Fandom! 

Goodness, but I was struggling with what to do for today. But then I happened to see a post about different types of Love, as according to Ancient Greeks. Since I always get a little bit frustrated over the fact that for a day that’s supposed to be celebrating Love, only Romantic Love is focused on, it was an absolute godsend! 

JUST TO LET YOU KNOW: There’s one teeny tiny scene of smutty shenanigans in this, but that’s at the very end and you can feel free to skip it if you want to. Other than that, I would say this is a very safe and fluffy piece!

Happy Valentine’s Day, dearies - you make my heart sing, and you make my world strange and magical with your friendships! All my LOFE to you!


Agape: Unconditional love. Love of humanity. Selfless, altruistic love.

Marianne looked over the stretch of her Fields and into the depths of the Forest she had once so deeply feared and now so deeply loved – dark and wild, strange and beautiful, hers in a way that still never failed to leave her humbled - and sighed, whole and heartfelt.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

can you tell more about hallucinations inside your head please?

Yeah, these are called internal auditory hallucinations, as opposed to external auditory hallucinations that you hear as if they’re coming from outside your head.  Internal hallucinations are exactly the same as external hallucinations in that you don’t have control over them or what they’re saying, and they are distinct voices apart from your own internal monologue/voice.  The main difference between external and internal of course is that internal hallucinations sound as though they’re coming from inside your head.  However, internal hallucinations also tend to be more negative, distressing, and long-lasting, and less controllable.  Common types of internal hallucinations are voices commenting, conversing, or commanding.  Although people who experience internal auditory hallucinations usually have better insight into their hallucinations (i.e. able to recognize that they are hallucinations), many find it harder to resist doing what the voices tell them to do when the voices are internal hallucinations.  Having internal hallucinations does not mean you are “less psychotic” than someone who has external hallucinations, nor are external hallucinations “more serious/severe” than internal hallucinations.  Their location of origin is different but both are hallucinations and both are associated with all of the other fun stuff that comes with psychosis. [x] [x] [x] mod Emily

anonymous asked:

In your fantasy story, is there something like bad, dark, black magic ?

Not exactly. There’s no single element or magic type that’s outright evil, but there are magical practices that are considered dangerous and highly controversial. Overexerting magic or using too many magic boosters (like enchanted weapons, potions, magic tattoos etc) risks the health of the user being “overcome” by their element

There are also cultural differences, like how the Jotuns’ blood magic could be considered savage or how the Kobolds’ necromancy practices can be seen as tampering too much with the natural cycle (note that necromancy is not outright re-animating the dead. You can read more about it here)

As a rule of thumb, there will never be anything in our fantasy world that is always “evil,” and darkness is and will never be associated as such

Thank you for your question!

Unconditionally

Anon asked:  Valentine’s special 14 & 37 Derek x chubby!reader? All the love from me sweetie 💓

Warnings: None

A/N: I am not sorry for that gif. Not at all. 

Every year your friends threw a Valentine’s Day party. It always was full with young couples dancing and just being in love. And then there was you. You had never had a Valentine before. You’d never even had a successful relationship. You’d always been alone, and you had told yourself you were okay with that. 

Though, this year, things were different. You hadn’t expected Derek Hale to show up. You didn’t really take him as the partying type. Actually, you didn’t take him as the fun type period. But nevertheless, he was there in all his glory. 

You had a small crush on Derek, though you knew he would never go for someone like you. You weren’t his type. Tall, skinny, supermodel type. You were shorter, chubbier than most. In fact, you weren’t even sure he knew your name. 

But that thought changed when he approached you. You were freaking out on the inside, and he had a look in his eyes that said he knew it too, though that would have been absurd. 

“Hey! How are you?” He asked, moving so he was standing next to you, staring out at the dance floor. 

“Uh, good. Yeah, good.” You groaned internally at how stupid you sounded. 

“That’s good. Enjoying yourself?” 

“Yeah. This party is always a good one.” You perked up as you heard the music change. “I love this song.” You said. 

“I know.” Your head whipped around to Derek, confusion on your face. “I requested it. Can I have this dance?” You stared from his outstretched hand to his face a couple times before swallowing your nerves and taking his hand. 

His hand was warm, correction, his whole body was warm as he wrapped his arms around your waist your arms going around his neck. 

“I never took you for the dancing type.” You said. 

“I’m not. Not really, but you looked lonely. Everyone deserves a dance on Valentine’s Day.” 

“Why me though? I’m sure there’s other girls here that are more your type.” 

“My type?” He frowned. “What’s my type.” 

“Tall, skinny, supermodel type girls. Girls that aren’t me.” You mumbled the last part so he wouldn’t hear.

Derek stopped dancing, moving one of his hands so he was cupping your chin. “My type isn’t based on looks. Sure, I’ve made some questionable relationship choices, but I prefer strong, independent, smart, down-to-earth, kind, caring women. Women like you.” 

You opened your mouth to say something, but stopped at his last words. What did he mean ‘like you?’ 

“I’ve been pining over you for a while now, but I never had the confidence to talk to you. Well, until now.” 

“Wait, so…you like me?” 

“Yeah. I didn’t think you’d go for a guy like me.” 

“I’ve liked you for the longest time.” You said, staring up into his gorgeous green eyes.

It was silent between you two for a moment as you stared at each other, totally unaware of what was going on around you. It was silent until Derek finally broke it. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

Phan One Shot

Title: Will You Be My Valentine?

Summary: Dan, who works at the florist shop, works across from the tattoo shop. One of the boys who works at the tattoo shop comes in everyday after Dan’s lunch breaks and buys a flower and leaves. On the day before valentines day, something goes a little bit different.

Genre: Fluff

Tw: None

Word count: 3.2k works

A/N: Thanks you so much @skinnyjeanshowell​ for writing this valentines day fic with me! Without you, I don’t know how this really would’ve turned out, so thanks, Tori.

Extra tags: 2009!phan, pastel!dan/punk!phil, oy, valentines day

Every day at Dan’s job, there was a certain black haired, blue eyed boy who was covered in tattoos entered the florist shop he worked at after Dan’s lunch break. He always bought a different type of flower each time he came in. After a while, Dan noticed that the black haired and blue eyed boy who came in everyday worked at the tattoo shop across from the shop.

Today was a bit different.

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Lmao the infatuation with light eyes is v ugly and is just another type of lowkey colorism just for your damn eyes. Like why would I go ape shit for a nigga who eyes is a different color? What that gonna do for me? Lmao