#bone marrow's artwork

[boneasin]

Baby Dark Choco and his dad, Dark Cacao! ngl I used a Minecraft screenshot for help for the background-

Also drawing this has made me realize how horrible I am at drawing flowers bc there was supposed to be a vase full of flowers but I got so annoyed with drawing them that I just didn't add them to the finished drawing-

[matchavellichor]

Warm Blood on Cool Marble

dark!Sebastian Sallow x f!MC - Angst - 2.2k words - ao3

A/N: I saw this lovely artwork by @tamayula-hl SO long ago and it's been living in my head rent-free ever since. Enjoy the terribly dark word vomit!!!

Summary: Casting an Unforgivable on his friend one fateful night in Slytherin's Scriptorium awakens something ravenous inside of Sebastian.

Tags: !!Violence!!, Sadism, Cruelty, Sebastian is not Nice, Dark Magic, Blood Rituals, Rough Kissing, Deliberate Use of Crucio, Minor NSFW

Pain spreads in tendrils under her skin. White-hot. Burning scorch marks into her bones, then underneath—into the very marrow, until it seems as much a part of her as the fibers of her soul. It swallows her whole with the intention to devour. 

Time easily escapes her under the influence of the curse, seemingly eternal. Only when it abruptly lets up is she distantly aware that it must have only been a few seconds. 

Despite this, her nerves ache with the memory—muscles twitching, breath coming in heavy pants against the flagstone floor she’s bracing herself against. 

Ominis has just enough time to kneel beside her before she’s retching onto the stone, agony still a broiling mess in her stomach. He holds her hair back and she can feel the anxiety in his clammy hands, in his hushed words she can barely make out over the ringing in her ears.

Sebastian is deadly silent.

She composes herself enough to blink back the stars dancing behind her vision and glances up to find he’s deadly still, as well. Frozen in place. Staring.

His wand is held loosely in his hand, his lips parted just enough to suggest surprise, as if a revelation of some sort has been made. A revelation of what she isn’t sure, as she’s certain it isn’t his first time experimenting with this specific Unforgivable.

Ominis is still fretting over her condition right beside her, his hands squeezing hers as if he can wring the trembling out of them, siphon the pain out. Her focus is drawn elsewhere. Magnetized to the expression Sebastian’s features are pulled into.

There’s a glint in his eyes, dark and pooling like warm blood on cool marble. A look that’s somehow familiar, that she tries to press down on with her thumb. Keep still long enough to decipher.

He takes a sharp breath, his irises catching the dim light of the wall torches, and it’s like they flash scarlet for a brief moment. Amber morphs into garnet right before her very eyes, gone as quick as she catches it. 

She does catch it though.

Right there, is a vicious kind of yearning. Violent, greedy desire. Something grasping, clawing, gnawing. Avarice, in all its sheer, ugly inhumanity. 

It burns bright in his eyes and knocks all of the wind out of her lungs. She staggers back and dry heaves and Ominis is on her again, blanched with worry. 

“I’m taking her back,” he says as helps her to her feet, and his tone is clipped, angry. Infuriated with Sebastian’s apparent indifference. “Explore your dearly coveted scriptorium alone. I hope it was worth it.” 

She wishes she could tell him that Sebastian is anything but indifferent at the moment, but her throat can’t get any words out. The clarification wouldn’t do him any good, anyway. She knows that apathy would be worlds more comforting than the rapacity that burns in his eyes now.  

She lets Ominis sling her arm around his neck and help her out of the chamber. When she glances over her shoulder, Sebastian has moved already, disappearing into the opened vault. He doesn’t turn to look back at her. 

//

She isn’t sure who is avoiding who. If it’s the simmering fear inside her that instinctively keeps her away from him or if it’s he who intentionally hides himself. His absence shouldn’t eat away at her as much as it does, and yet it tears her apart from the inside out, swallows her whole.

Ominis is more livid than she is, holding a bitterness that causes him to push Sebastian away just as ardently as the brunette isolates himself. It’s unhealthy, especially as she considers what he must be spending his time doing now that he’s had access to Salazar’s writings. Either Ominis lacks the foresight or simply the energy to try to dissuade him any further.

Concern wracks her nerves. Despite her efforts, she’s only afforded brief glimpses. Any time she approaches him working in the desolate corners of the library, he tucks his notes away quickly, refuses to meet her eyes. 

She wishes she could pretend his aversion to her is a product of remorse. She can’t. Rejection digs sharply in her chest, until it hurts more than the fear she still subconsciously harbors for him. 

Only then, does she follow him.

//

The Feldcroft Catacombs are dark and frigid. She stumbles through scattered bones with the faint light of her lumos, picks her way through cobwebs and corridors. Nearly impales herself with a snapped femur she falls on top of. She wipes off her scraped palms and continues on, determined. 

Eventually, pain-stakingly, she reaches the chamber he’s in. It’s barren, save for the glowing light of his wand and the stone dolmen in the center of the room. 

The stench of dark magic is so heavy she nearly gags from it. It permeates her senses and she can almost feel it sink into her very being, wear down her soul just from proximity. He stands hunched over the stone table, back turned to her, working fervently. 

Her shoes scuff against the stone floor and he turns quick as lightning, wand outstretched, a curse on the tip of his tongue.

His eyes burn when he catches sight of her. She ignores the instinctive, primal, screaming urge inside of her to run. 

“You shouldn’t be here.” There’s more desperation in his voice than she would’ve anticipated, and if she stretches it, hazes her perception, she could almost pretend he sounds remorseful.

Her eyes comb over the runes drawn in scarlet on the table, the glowing artifact in his hands. There’s blood dripping down his forearm, oozing from the cut on his palm. Blood magic, she catalogs briefly. Something obscure and archaic.

Her heart seizes violently in her chest when she lets her eyes drift up to meet his again. “What have you done?”

“What I had to,” he whispers, and his tone is resigned. “There’s no use in trying to stop me. It’s already completed.” 

She takes a step closer and he reciprocates a step back, presses himself against the stone mantle. It’s ironic, how he almost seems scared of her. Jarring. She tilts her head and studies him. 

“Leave,” he seethes, so vicious it’s startling. The words bitten out through clenched teeth. Still, she notices the lilt buried deep beneath it. The waver in his voice. The tremor in his hands. She’s never seen Sebastian so terrified.  

“You know I won’t,” she says, and takes another step closer. He tries to inch away again, but there’s nowhere for him to go so he only glares at her, tightens his grip around his wand, stiffens his position. 

She stalks towards him until his wand digs into her chest and he’s staring down at her with widened eyes. She turns her gaze to the artifact in his hands. 

“Let it go, Sebastian,” she says, gentle, like she’s cornering a scared animal. With blood dripping down his palm and his eyes round saucers, he truly looks like something savage. Unfettered. “Can’t you see what it’s doing to you? Please. We’ll destroy it together.”

He shakes his head fervently and holds it farther out of her reach. “Don’t you dare. Don’t come near it.”

There’s a moment frozen in the air between them. Caught in the live-wire tension, swirling in their shared panting breaths. She isn’t certain of anything other than the fact that she needs to put an end to this.

She lunges for the relic. 

It tumbles out of his hand with a dull clatter, and she immediately dives for it, sinking to the floor. He doesn’t follow her down. 

Her fingers are barely able to brush the jagged edge of it before debilitating pain sears up her nerves and white explodes behind her eyes. 

Immediately, she jerks back sharply, her body curling into itself as she writhes. She’s distantly aware of the fact she’s screaming herself hoarse. 

This… this is different than before. 

Infinitely more intense, more intentional. If she had ever known passion before—by any definition of the word—it pales miserably in comparison to the zealous onslaught she feels now.

She can feel the way the darkness around them feeds into it, entwines itself with his magic, stokes the flickering flames of his cruelty until it’s all-consuming. Until she’s certain she’ll be reduced to ash when he’s done with her. 

When he finally relents, he’s hovering over her. His eyes are fixed on her face, and she catches that glint there again. How voracious he is, utterly starved. She tries to move her muscles but they feel like they’ve been flayed, tendons and sinew cut away for him to prod and gawk at.

“How did it feel?” he whispers, voice feverish with fascination. There’s an unrestrained quality to it, something deranged seeping through the cracks. 

He moves over her when she tries to squirm away, straddles her hips. His eyes are still drinking in every drop of her, trained on her face, on the faint twitching in her arms. She takes too long to blink back to full lucidity and he squeezes her cheeks in his hand, gives her a shake. Blood streaks her chin and she nearly becomes sick from it.

“Get yourself together,” he grits, tone dripping with appetent impatience. “Tell me. Tell me how it felt. Or has it already escaped you? Do you need a reminder?”

“No, no, please—”

He grins then, teeth bone-white and all knives.

“You don’t have a clue, do you?” he murmurs. “How beautiful you sounded screaming for me. Writhing under my wand. My magic.”

He’s close. She feels his breath on her lips and it smells like copper, makes her gut twist violently.

“It was even better than in the scriptorium. God, how I despised myself for enjoying it so much then,” he leans in until his lips ghost the shell of her ear, voice lowered to a whisper. “For touching myself to the thought afterward.”

He shifts his hips against hers and she feels it— the stiffness pressed to her stomach, equal parts dizzying as it is nauseating. His hunger for her is in every possible meaning of the word, wolfish, insatiable. 

His breath is hot at her temples, words scorching. “Tell me, did you feel me then? Feel me inside of you, as strongly as you did just now?” The fervor in his voice is thick, palpable, so much so it’s a miracle she doesn’t choke on all the vigor of it. “Through the searing pain, did you feel nothing but me?”

Tears burn a path down her cheeks before she can stop herself, but she’s too sore to feel properly mortified by them. Just as quickly as they marr her skin, they’re swiped away. 

Replaced with the wet drag of a tongue. 

She whimpers, squirms away, but he holds her steadfast. Rambles more insanities, voice scathing against heat-flushed, saliva-slick skin.

“You know, I thought that once I saved Anne, I would be done. I would leave this all behind. But now,” he chuckles, rasping deep in his chest, something maniacal. “There’s so much overwhelming beauty in it all. So much rapture. How could I ever give it up? How could I ever let this go?”

She forces herself to blink away the stickiness in her lashes, to meet his eyes, see him for what he really is. The glowing relic fallen just out of reach casts his face in an incandescent indigo, portent and foreboding. 

Through the deep blue, his eyes glint blood-red. 

Not a flicker, but something permanently changed, something intrinsic to him now. The sight nerves her to her core, sends a shudder up her spine. 

He surges forward and swallows whatever gasp she intended to let out.

His lips on hers are vicious, punishing—and she wonders if he’ll ever be able to be anything but. He licks into her mouth with long, hungry strokes, runs his tongue along her teeth, bites mercilessly until he tastes metal. Her mouth pools with scarlet and he doesn’t bother soothing it, instead groaning deeply in triumph. 

The shock of it all dislocates something in her, makes it so easy for her to offer up whimpers against his mouth, for her to let him brutalize her so wholly. He takes it as permission to tear her open, grope bruises into her skin with his wandering hands.

He squeezes her chest so roughly she chokes on a sob, rakes her nails down his forearms. He sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as if the sound makes something heavy inside of him twist. Ache. 

When he finally breaks away from her he’s grinning. Lips kiss-bruised and swollen, pink-tinged saliva on his chin. He stares for a drawn out moment, as if committing the way she looks to memory. 

As he unmolds his body from hers, she struggles desperately to catch her breath. She’s still dizzy, even after he’s collected himself, even after he’s on his feet tucking his notes back into his satchel and the relic’s safely back in his hands. 

He watches her for another long moment and she’d almost mistake the look in his eyes for fondness. She catches herself. There’s too much voracity behind his gaze for it to be anything remotely tender. 

His breaths are just as ragged as hers as he leaves her there, on the floor, tremors still wracking her body. Before he slips out of the chamber, he stills. Turns to look back at her one last time. 

Strangely enough, it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. 

[lorei-writes]

Crimson Roses

Cyran x MC Angst/Hurt/Comfort ~1.5k words Prompts: determination, love, loyalty

My entry for Wish Upon an Aide Creation Challenge & the collaboration with none other than @wordycheeseblob ! Saki prepared the artwork -- the story is inspired by it.

To view the full artwork, visit @wordycheeseblob !

The clacking of high heels called order in the halls. The maid leaped off the sill and onto the floor, hands smoothing out any real and imaginary creases present over her uniform. Mildly embarrassed, she lowered her head. “Do you know where Cyran is?” Emma asked. “The word has it that Sir Rose has not returned.”

“Did you hear? Prince Clavis returned tonight, just before the dawn,” a maid chirped, vigorously polishing one of the tall windows lining the hallways in the residential wing of the palace. Not quite ladylike, she stuck out her tongue and stood on her very tiptoes, the cloth in her hand coming just short of reaching the upper end of the frame. She put her knee up on the windowsill.

“Truly? No, no, I wasn’t aware, no. And…?” her companion mused. “This is rather disgraceful, dear.”

“It is not like anybody is going to see.” The girl pushed herself further up, to eventually stand rather steadily, one pristine hand pressed against the wall for stability. A single stray strand sneaked out of her updo and fell over her forehead, perhaps challenging her to blow it back into place. “Besides, that’s not important.”

“That is youngster’s naivete,” the other sighed. “Well, what was it that you heard then?”

Hooks were undone and knobs were turned. The white apron billowed on the wind as a handful of rowdy gusts rushed inside, more than ready to rummage through the princely chambers and other kingly dwellings. “So you are curious!” She winked. “Apparently he was beaten all black and blue, so he won’t make any appearances for a while… And the word has it that his first knight, Sir Rose —”

The clacking of high heels called order in the halls. The maid leaped off the sill and onto the floor, hands smoothing out any real and imaginary creases present over her uniform. Mildly embarrassed, she lowered her head.

“Do you know where Cyran is?” Emma asked.

“The word has it that Sir Rose has not returned.”

***

Sir Rose has not returned, Emma was told by what felt like a hundred of mouths.

He hasn’t made it home.

He had to stay back.

They were supposed to meet up at an inn, but…

… but there was nothing following that “but”. Angered or desperate, or perhaps both, so thoroughly dissolved in each other that they ceased being either, she stood before Clavis’ room. The oaken door stared her down, old dark knots furrowing their grain-brow. A guest uninvited, Emma turned and pressed and pulled and pushed at the brass knob – and although it replied each time, be it with a bzzzt or a whoop or a snap, the door did not budge.

“Prince Clavis?” She knocked. Emma took a step back, anticipating some sort of explosion, or a contraption, concoction, trap… Something, anything, to befall her.

Nothing had.

“Prince Clavis?!”

Nothing.

“Clavis, goddammit!”

Not a thing, regardless of how hard her fist struck. Thinking it was just a cruel joke, a tactless prank, Emma let her feelings pound away at the wood, impact shaking her down to her very bone marrow. Hinges rattle-cackled, laughing only louder the longer she fought. As futile as it was, Emma did not lack in persistence. No, far from it – her will was a rock, only solidified by the gossip still churning in her mind.

It was only when the afternoon sun tinted the corridors in vibrant vermillion, so very familiar, that Emma regained some of her reason. She hid her bruised hand in her skirt, head hanging low.

“Clavis?” she called one last time, her voice rasp. To no answer, of course. Defeated and deflated, Emma turned away from the door, dreading being swallowed and digested by the ever-present silence.

***

Follow me —

Emma burst out of her room, carried forth and entrapped by the winds still lingering in the halls, little different from a gale herself. A force petrified with uncertainty, she clutched the letter to her chest. Her body did not hurt; it was the motion that found her, pulled her through the gaps between the hastily jotted down lines, made unstoppable by the sliver of hope setting her thoughts ablaze. She didn’t want to oppose it. Not when the singed paper fit in her palm so warmly, so crumbled and mistreated it could easily fall to dust. The previously dreadful corridors, overly long staircases, the dewy gravel and the shivering afternoon – it sped by her. Emma simply ran.

Follow me where red roses bloom under the cold skies.

The message was unnecessary; it had branded her mind the moment she’d first read it. A fresh burn, it sizzled and it howled, each of its whines revealing a fragment of the path. Like through a haze, Emma ran, faster than her legs could carry her. She skipped over the road leading to the town in a flash, the wicked buildings and their convoluted streets sprouting seemingly straight from the depths of the ground to entrap her. Not a single familiar path remained in place, trade signs playing the game of tag and rearranging themselves. The capital drowned in a mist conjured by the voice of a siren-heart, the cafes, restaurants, stores, all somehow bearing the familiar flickers of red hair, phantom figures moving behind the glass displays, playing out stories of days long lived through. Echoes of laughter coiled around her legs, the sweetest doubts weighing down her heart.

Emma ran.

Follow me where red roses bloom under the cold skies. I will —

He would.

So she had to meet him there.

Emma tore away old nostalgia strings. She averted her eyes from the coffee shops, forgot about the happy pair that once sat by the door and drank tea as golden as her eyes. She let go of the memory of the dark cherries, of her love’s delight, of the feeling of his hand over hers, of his lips and their timid caress. Cast away, they shattered under the heels of her shoes, the shards being swept under the hem of her skirt. She could collect them later, put them back together, smelt them anew if time allowed…

… if there was still time.

Emma ran.

Follow me where red roses bloom under the cold skies. I will meet you there after midnight strikes.

The town ceased, plains opening to greet her to then turn into hills. Completely in their domain, winds broke off the leash, trickster gusts pushing at her back while gales took her hands and pulled her onwards. Through the sea of swaying grass, past thorny blackberries, prickly thistles with their purple crowns and grooves and rivulets and other scrubs – Emma ran, out of breath despite having become the air personified. Stumbling as she did, she reached the clearing. Their clearing, although then it was already occupied, an all too familiar sword protruding from the ground. Scarlet blade stared at her, basked in the last of bloody sunlight.

Follow me where red roses bloom under the cold skies. I will meet you there after midnight strikes. I promise.

Red roses reeked of sweet decay as Emma took a shaky step. Abandoned by the strength of elements, she could all but crumble on the spot – yet even in that, she chose to crumble onwards, dragging her pained feet until she faced the dearly beloved sword properly. She set her hands on the hilt and sat on the ground. Accompanied only by the hooting of the owls, Emma closed her eyes, waves of desperation that led her thus far easing into a state of calm.

He promised, she repeated to herself. He promised, so he will come.

***

Brilliant sunlight had begun to flicker over the horizon line by the time Cyran made it back to the hill. Beaten and battered, still encased in the constraint of his military garb, he dragged himself through the winding path hidden among scrubs. A broken branch there, an odd clearing here – he did not notice anything. Not until he saw the carmine hue of Emma’s skirt, a rough scrap hanging off the raspberry branch, hardly different from the ripe fruit surrounding it.

Cyran run.

Metallic thudding banished exhaustion from his limbs, thunderbolts lending him their speed. The world ceased in a blur, light tore its way into the diminishing dark – and it was only after he entered the clearing that he was robbed of his might. Cyran forced his body to oblige to his demands, the woman he longed to see sleeping while sitting upright, hands propped on the hilt of his sword.

“Emma?” he whispered, not believing his eyes. She must have been soundly locked in her dreams, however, for she did not reply. As if cocooned in the fabric of the night, Emma swayed lightly, perfectly in sync with the crimson roses blooming around. Petals fluttered, few discarded ones lifting off the ground, huddling towards her to settle in her hair. Still just as surprised, Cyran sat down behind Emma, pulled her frame into his arms. She was a feather when she fell against his chest, so very light he feared his hands may be too rough to handle her. Nevertheless, he found his courage again and swept her hair aside, his fingers brushing against her cheek in reverence as he unveiled her visage. His touch descending to her neck, his arm reached to free her from her duty at the hilt —

“Cyran?”

He kissed her nape. “I’m back.”

His forehead pressed against her shoulder, Cyran prayed to always find her safely there, enchanted where the crimson roses bloomed under the clear skies.

--

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[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Artwork by Lucy Campbell

* * * *

"Through endings, leave-takings, loss, and grief, we develop an intimate relationship with the death goddess as she leads us to our darkest caves. By touching down into death and reclaiming the bones of our losses, we emerge knowing what it takes to survive. What we took for injury, weakness, vulnerability or shame becomes the doorway through which incredible gifts can enter: resilience, creativity, strength, and a renewed sense of faith in our own mysteries. Endings and loss are absorbed into our marrow, and we are remade."

Kristen Roderick, Excerpt from online course Blessing Our Secret Sorrow.

[The spirit that moves me]

[stealingyourbones]

Bone-thief! Do you like the taste of bones? I may or may not die from choking on a bone in the future (I just really like bone marrow, and gnawing on things, and then suddenly I have a sibling laughing at me because I ate the pork steak and like half of the bone, and just asking if his cooking was that good (yes)). One of these days I will get a proper bone marrow soup, until then I will tide myself off with stews made with meat still on the bone and other good stuff. What about you? Are you more interested in the taste of bones, bone collection like assembling a skeleton, or items carved out of bones, or something else?

You have wonderful taste. Bone marrow is so very tasty but I am more interested in collecting bones. I will go walking in the woods and find bones that I’ll later clean. Heavily debating making little artworks with them out of wood and fake moss and flowers and stuff to sell. I don’t collect roadkill but I do find the remains of animals that hunters leave behind and take them so the bones don’t go to waste rotting.

If I do see me a good hunk of bone marrow tho, you bet your ass I’m slapping that sucker on some bread and consuming it with feral abandon.

[clown-stripe]

So like. I got diagnosed with *yet another* chronic illness two days ago. Doctor says I have fibromyalgia, which is what has been causing the constant full body pain that makes me feel like every inch of my skin is a bruise being pressed on 24/7

Which makes sense, and I’m glad to know that I’m not just crazy, because I’ve been in pain literally since I was born, to the point that I don’t have a single memory where this pain wasn’t present, at least in the background. So I really thought it was normal, and that everyone felt like this until it got a lot worse in the last few years that I’ve been dealing with flare ups of Crohn’s and lupus, but neither of those can explain the constant pain I feel underneath every inch of my skin

It’s a relief to get a diagnosis, because for a couple years now, since it started getting worse, I thought this feeling was just what people talk about when they say you reach your late 20’s and can’t neglect good habits anymore without feeling it. That this pain was just bundled alongside the feeling of getting sore + stiff from not exercising/sleeping well enough. I have wondered on several occasions how the hell everyone lives full lives with this kind of pain, or why more people don’t kill themselves upon finding out that they have to feel like this for decades??? Because sometimes I can’t bear the thought of feeling this pain every day for the rest of my stupid little life. I’m not strong enough to bear that burden when I’ve already lived 28 years with it and I feel tired all the way down to my fucking bone marrow from carrying this pain with me everywhere I go, even in my sleep, in my dreams I feel it because I’ve never *not* felt it and I have no idea what it feels like to not be plagued it.

But now that I know what’s wrong and there are treatment options to try? Maybe I’ll finally get to know what it’s like to not be in pain.

So the doctor gave me a new medicine for it to try that will hopefully make my nerves feel less, and I can actually do things again instead of just being in bed thinking about how bad the bed hurts against my skin and how gravity is a curse because I can’t just float so nothing is touching me and making my skin hurt. And all the ideas for various art to make I’ve been saving up for when I’m capable of sitting up and holding a pencil again can be worked on. I can finally take the drive out of my old busted laptop to get all of my concept drafts off of it because I only managed to save the most important/almost finished artworks on it before the battery swelled (and my fav version of photoshop too, because I’m an idiot and don’t commit which one it is to memory so I can just pirate it again, I just keep transferring the program files to install it again lmao)

Maybe I’ll actually get around to coming up with a permanent pseudonym to start posting my art under, and finally start sharing it outside of Snapchat where it disappears in 24 hours

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

Take a Taste: with La Prato Stakehouse [Recorded: Apr 10th, 2023]

Hello! It’s time for another “Take a Taste”! The series is about delicious food with my two paper dolls.

And today, I’m reviewing another restaurant that we went to on Monday for my father's advanced birthday! 🥳🎉👨 An affordable steakhouse resto called "Beef Plate"! Mmmmm... 😋🥩🍴 But, how’s it taste? Let’s find out! 🤔

If you haven’t seen my previous episode, then please [CLICK ME!].

So, without further ado, let’s get started:

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• We're kicking this off with the outside & inside of the resto! Decent urban-style restaurant w/ the tree in the middle if not unique, but hey, it's a good place to eat (I suppose). 🙂👌

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• After we order, a waiter offer us a free broth soup & a plastic cup of water. 🥣🥛 My paper dolls love soup, so I let them taste it, and it's pretty good. *sipping with a broth soup* Yeah, I could agree more. 🤤🥣👌 However, what I don't like is serving a plastic cup of water instead of the glass format for the customers. 😕🥛❓ Are they rang out of glass (or aluminum) formats or something? Who knows? It's strange, that they used wasted cup ware for consumers at this establishment. I mean, when is the last time we've encountered this? I don't know, but I can't explain though.

BTW: I forgot to picture their menu... Oops. 😅 But don't worry, because there's an online menu was uploaded on their official page → [CLICK ME!]. 🙂🌐🧾

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• Anyways, let's move on to the main meals! This is what I ordered, a sizzling porterhouse stake w/ gravy & garlic rice! Yum-yum! (Price: ₱149) My paper dolls wants to taste it, too! Heck yeah, go ahead! 🥩🍚😋🍴

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• [12th to 15th Images] Now, time to set things up before we open our months. Mmmmm, delicious! 🤤

• [16th & 17th Images] Other meals that we've tried is this Beef Mushroom w/ Bone Marrow (mom's meal) (₱ 199). We've already tried the beef bits, and its delicious, too. 🤤 Except the bone marrow (because of colesterol reasons). 😅

18th to 21st Image(s): ↑

• [18th & 19th Images] You know, a single garlic rice wasn't enough, so we ordered another round of garlic rice to satisfy our tastebuds. 🍚🍚😁🍴 If only they include "unlimited white rice" on their menu, then we'll be more satisfied. ➕🍚🙂

• [20th & 21st Images] Another delicious meal that we've tried is the T-Bone steak (₱ 129). Here, you two, have some! 🤤

22nd & 23rd Image(s): ↑

• Ahh... Our plates we're empty 😋🍽️, with only cup of water left to quench my throat! *cheers* 🥛☺️ Our stomachs are fulled. ☺️

Overall:

• It was a decent place to go night dinner at this restaurant for my father's advanced birthday (Happy Birthday, papa! We love you, by the way. 🥳🎁🎉👨❤️🥰). However, a few tweaks like improving their urban atmosphere & switching their wasting plastic cups to washable glass or metallic cup ware for restaurant standards. The meals, on the other hand, I'm enjoying, but quite decent taste, to be honest. And, I understand with their normal signature taste, but they also offered a premium steak at their reason (fair expensive) price. So, I suppose we want a try their premium steaks, too, someday. So, is it worth it? A decently "Yes". We would love to eat again at this cheap steakhouse establishment. 😊👌🥩🏠🍴

Well, that’s all for now, If you haven’t seen my previous episodes, then I’ll provide some links down below.↓😉

Take a Taste:

○ 2021 Food Reviews: ○

• Popeyes U.S. Spicy Chicken Sandwich [Dec 6, 2021]

• Jollibee Chick'nwich & Crisscut Fries [Dec 21, 2021]: Part 1 [CLICK ME! #1], Part 2 [CLICK ME! #2]

○ 2022 Food Reviews: ○

• Mini Stop Chicken Fillet XL Sandwich [Feb 7, 2022]

• Minute Burger Cheese Burger(s) [Mar 1, 2022]

• Pepper Lunch Teriyaki Beef Pepper Rice w/ Egg (& Honey Brown Sauce) [Mar 5, 2022]

• Bacsilog’s Sulit Combo Bacon-Tocino & Samgyup Day’s Pork Herbs [Mar 12, 2022]

• Burger King Whopper w/ Sides & Drink [May 6, 2022]

• Marshmello’s Limited Edition Coca-Cola Zero [Aug 26, 2022]

• Cheesy Burger McDo with Lettuce & Tomatoes Meal [Recorded: Sept 16, 2022]

• Mcdonald’s PH McSpicy & Apple Pie (featuring their World Famous Fries) [Nov 14, 2022]

• Mcdonald’s McCrispy Hamonado Sandwich [Dec 31st, 2022]

○ 2023 Food Reviews: ○

• Foods from Delicious Restaurant & 1919 Grand Cafe [Jan 8th, 2023]

• Homemade Churros by my lil’ bro [Feb 12th, 2023]

• Lugaw Sisig from Mang Boy Alfredo Lugawan Restaurant [Recorded: Feb 18th, 2023]

Tagged: @bryan360, @carmenramcat, @leapant

[noisycowboyglitter]

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[athomewiththecicadas]

5th Sword 6/18/24

To clear up confusion in regard to fifth sword enumeration.

The PT requirement is a 2 minute mile with 80lbs, totalling $22.4 million.

Regardless of which account the enumeration is rewarded, the physical fitness standard was fulfilled.

First, it's important to note, that you understand that you "can not" run a 2 minute 1/2 mile, qualifying the degree of the first sword.

But the fifth sword must qualify the physical fitness standard as described.

And for the function of publication, support from religious leaders is not inappropriate. Considering that the Sorcery of fiction often materializes in circumstance such as these.

But physical fitness standards can also be associated with munitions. And if you have not qualified the Traditional Physical Fitness Standards, the physical fitness standard may be applied in regard to munitions regulations.

In the Holy Bible, this was recorded as Moses and the 10 Commandments. Where the inequity of the Traditional Standard may be absorbed equivalent to a standardized munition.

And one way or another this will include radiology.

And because we are referring to a scientific standard, exposure to radiology would be equivalent to a 2 minute mile, carrying 80lbs, for 11 miles.

Which I think still times somewhere between 4 minutes or 3 minutes per mile. Off the top of my head it was a 3 minute mile, which is still the full sprint of anyone who can't run a 4 minute mile right now, carrying no less than 80lbs, for no less than 11 miles.

And when you consider this, Moses' hair in pictorial descriptions had turned white. Where the radiology burned his hair follicles. But as far as fantasy depictions, artwork describing magical summonings of powers. Making reference to radiological exposure.

If a fifth sword was actually issued for "in combat," then most likely there was a physical conflict that resulted in the exposure to radiology to the described degree. Which would theoretically create radiological exposure to bone marrow. Thus creating injury for the discrepancy between immediate physical fitness level, and the inequity of physical fitness required. But for a fifth sword to be enumerated, exposure to the described radiology was met. Which is lethal exposure to even "youth," less the immediate Physical Fitness enumeration the individual had presented, extending the survivability of the individual that was exposed.

And as far as artwork and pictorial descriptions, the forces that are applied, leaves enough room for regulated artworks to fulfill the description to the occurrences, to a reasonable degree of accuracy.

And they are referring to events that actually manifested summonings of Sorcery.

The difference between the fifth sword and the seventh sword in a nonlinear scale is nearly twice the lethal exposure.

When you are referring to economic risks associated with shareholders, you are referring to the enumerated "expectations" of these lethal exposures.

And for example, Perseus, would represent the risk of the Seventh Sword. Where the "Self Made Man," would represent the 5th Sword. And Atlas referring to the 3rd Sword.

And this is where conflicts arise. Where leadership is exposed to risks, that carry these higher values, and those that do not qualify the expected credit rating to assume these risks, are often exposed to the term "rebellious."

And you can see that the demands we place on the markets, requires someone to assume the appropriate risk. And those that won't comply are viewed as rebellious. But in these circumstances, they "are not" considered a burden.

For those that have not complied to the enumerated risks placed on the markets, they can be exposed to these risks, because they are acting "too rebellious."

Minimum Wage Law in the United States is set at a 4 minute mile. And we are witnessing how risk is being restructured from merely the first implementation of the new Multiple Independent Processors (MIN-P) and Multiple Execution Side Porting (MESP) technologies that started last October.

Sergeant Major Nathan Marksmith, North Wales Militia, Joint Militia Detachment Brigade (Virginia Militia Association)

[mcbrownartapp]

Virtual Sketchbook #1

1.) Five facts about Jackson Pollock and his work Autumn Rhythm No 30:

Jackson Pollock made his first “drip” or “action painting” in 1947, where he lays the canvas on the floor and used multiple methods of applying paint including drips, splatters, and brushworks from above.

Another one of Pollock’s paintings (No. 5, 1948) became the world’s most expensive painting of that time selling in May of 2006 for 140 million dollars.

Pollock had a movie Oscar winning movie made about him titled, “Pollock”.

Autumn Rhythm No. 30 was bought for $20,000 from Pollock’s estate following his untimely death at the age of 44 in 1956.

Autumn Rhythm No. 30 is currently at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

My first thoughts when looking at Autumn Rhythm was that it seemed chaotic and a little overwhelming. Having little exposure in art and not fully comprehending intentions when it comes to abstract work, I felt like I wasn’t understanding what the artist was trying to convey. But the more I looked at it, I began to see the flow and movement in the patterns of paint. After researching the art piece and its creator, Jackson Pollock, I have come to learn that what I first saw as chaos is the opposite. Pollock purposefully and intentionally made each stroke, splatter, and drip the way that he wanted, making the abstract painting a uniquely beautiful piece or artwork.

Autumn Rhythm (No. 30) Jackson Pollock

2.) This is from a picture from a coloring book my mom finished while she was receiving treatment at Moffitt Cancer Center. She had just undergone a bone marrow transplant that required a very potent dose of chemo that left her unable to talk, walk, stand or do much else. She was, however, able to create the picture. She was fighting for her life and was still able to put bright, hopeful colors into it. This was an incredibly difficult time for my family and despite the odds, my mom pulled through and beat leukemia. I have this up in my room as a reminder of the strength it took to get through that time and to always try to look on the bright side.

3.) My name is Mary. I am a 29-year-old Caucasian female (recently turned 29, 30 is still aways away 😊).  I am from Fort Wayne, Indiana. My family used to vacation in Siesta Key and always dreamed of living in Florida. We finally were able to move to North Port in 2018. My favorite thing to do when I don’t have much going on is puzzles. My friends call me an old lady because I would rather stay in doing puzzles than go out most times. I have been a bartender/server since I was 19, which is long enough. I am very ready to finish college and begin on a new career path. A unique part of me is that I aspired to be a professional photographer, specializing in landscapes, architecture, and animals. My original major at SCF was Digital Photography, but after I became pregnant with my first child in 2022, I decided to switch to a more stable profession in the medical field. I hope taking Art Appreciation will allow me to learn more about my creative side and I can continue pursue photography as a hobby.

4.)

[amberduan-ual]

Art In Site Launch Presentation (16/2/23)

Notes

 “I hate those lonely, winding corridors–empty of people…”

 bring ppl back into the spaces with photography and color

> also integrated visual language into wayfinding

> includes experiences from actual child patients

colorcoding the floors

“NHS staff experience many cases of aggression”

develop visual language in wayfinding scheme so it can communicate universally

> many ppl who enter the hospital do not speak english as their first language

> simplify wayfinding language as well

testimonials from staff say that artwork helps contribute to reduction of violence and aggression

> patient flow increased, children’s trust in doctors increased, etc

children often don’t know what’s going to happen to them, which can be overwhelming and contribute to long-term phobias

> using storytelling (comics) to show what a hospital experience is like

making sure storytelling is also accessible to ppl with different abilities

“deprived of play, the child is a prisoner”

play can also help staff diagnose what may be wrong with a patient, what areas are in pain

transform a scary experience into something exciting!

glow in the dark designs, art on the ceiling, etc

 “above all what matters is to not lose the joy of living in the fear of dying”

maggie centres, incorporating beautiful interior design into spaces for cancer patients

bringing lighting into underground spaces where there’s no natural light

four categories: mental health, emergency, children’s, general/other

 mental health > space should inspire ppl to get better > enclosed spaces where patients can’t leave should feel homely and welcoming emergency > process things are happening all the time, etc children's general/other

things to consider: applications and art locations where to integrate art and design? > elevator, ceiling, doors? community > who are they, what do they need symbolism and narrative! > how does it tie into the local area, its culture and heritage > wildflowers in the Olympic Stadium area constraints of the environment > fire regulations, robustness, infection control

come up with a concept that pulls everything together in a simple idea

your deliverable: bring your creative concept to life in poster form (A2 size)

include some text, perhaps a couple paragraphs title (try for smth poetic, convincing) quote from someone related to the healthcare sector?

Actionable Items: look at the Art in Site website do some research into statistics and such choose a section to focus on

The launch presentation from Peter Shenai was really inspiring and I could feel how passionate he was about bringing human-centric art/design to hospital places. The brainstorm session afterwards was really helpful for generating ideas and widening my perspective on the possible scope of my direction. This project is definitely closest to my heart in comparison to the Handsome Frank and Chatty Feet briefs because I believe that art should be able to directly impact and benefit people. Using creativity to help others is something I think we as artists should always be thinking about and seeking opportunities for, in addition to our own artistic expression.

Personally, I don’t have much experience of being in hospitals myself (besides the time I was born) but I’ve had loved ones close to me stay in hospitals. In high school, I had a friend who was diagnosed with leukemia, a cancer that affects the bone marrow. When she was hospitalized at our local children’s hospital for long-term chemotherapy, I remember sending her daily drawings to try and cheer her up, to remind her that people outside the hospital were thinking about her and cared for her. She unfortunately passed away my second year of high school but I still think about her often, and this project made me think about how long she was in the hospital and whether or not she was comfortable in her environment there. Recently, my grandfather contracted Covid19 in China and was admitted to urgent care. Since my family lives in the United States, we were unable to visit him in the hospital ourselves. My uncle who was able to be by my grandfather’s side video-called my mother often while in the hospital, and the few glimpses I saw of the hospital environment were sterile and metallic, white and unfeeling. It seems like the area my grandfather was in was a temporary setup because of the overwhelming surge in Covid cases in China in the last few months. My grandfather passed away while in this environment and while I’m glad that my uncle was able to be with him, I wish that he could’ve spent his last moments somewhere with a little touch of humanity and love. If not at home, then at least in a space designed to comfort. If we can improve patients’ lives even a little bit with our art, then we should try to do so as best we can. 

I’m interested in how space and geography can influence our thoughts and behaviors, especially with the goal of comforting and enriching. When we step foot into a room we immediately make a judgment about the atmosphere and vibe of it. A room with “bad vibes” could be lit with harsh white lights or flickering bulbs, the furniture arranged haphazardly, given little to zero decoration or furnishing, furnished with echoey material, or a number of other factors that impact our experience of a space. We should consider the purpose and intention of a space, who and how people will be using/moving through it, and the opportunities it presents while designing. 

I quite like the idea of integrating the environment and community outside the hospital with its interior design, since patients can often feel like they’re being cut off from the external world during their stay. I think it could present opportunities to ground people while they’re going through a difficult time and remind them of their life outside of the experience. I’d like to do more research on the impacts of art in benefiting patients’ moods as well as lowering rates of aggressive behavior. On the flip side, I think medical staff could also stand to greatly benefit from well designed healthcare spaces. Our healthcare workers go through such demanding and often extended work hours, often experiencing high levels of stress as well. Doctors have such a high degree of burnout and rate of depression, so being able to help them as well would be a good factor to consider when approaching my project. 

There’s a lot of directions that I could go into with this project so I think I’ll follow a double-diamond sort of approach to find my solution. I’d like to do a large amount of research and consider my options before really narrowing in on the context and framing of my project so I don’t overlook anything. Also, I’m not a healthcare professional, so it’d be good just to get my bearings and inform myself on this topic instead of assuming anything. The brief that Peter sent seems really informative and has links to a lot of research which will definitely be a good start on where to look.

[boneasin]

I think Dark Cacao is the one who did Dark Choco's painting and I will die on this hill.

[themonolithicmystique]

twitchesandstitches here, I would have to put some thought into looking up some of the more intriguingly bizarre powers but a few stand outs include:

the powers of Strong Guy, who absorbs kinetic energy and grows bigger (often in disturbing or gruesome ways), of chief interest for being a great take on the power absorbing character archetype. absorbing any kind of impact and getting bigger and stronger from it. i think movement of any kind qualifies as impact.

one particular X-Man who wasn't around for long but had the bizarre power of his intestines transforming into a pair of horrible biomechanical worm things he treated as his pets. They would emerge from his body, eat things, and reenter his body to feed him and also make him blue and really strong.

Consider something with the powers of the Summers Gray bloodline, whether Nate Gray or Cable; just superpowerful telekinesis. It's not wacky or that creative but it IS so obscenely powerful that in practice the power tends to manifest as outright reality warping, which is fun

something with a mix of Spike (from X Men Evolution) and Marrow, turning bones and emerging them through the skin as spikes, bony carapace, weapons and any tools required. also clothing and armor if desired. most of Marrow's artwork should suggest interestingly weird transformations afforded by this power; Spike's bones could also detonate, which might work well as a transmission means with other powers

(Maggot really is just completely horrifying, and it'd take someone of inhibitionsnullandvoid's skill to make that powerset kinky, I think.)

[whattheabcxyz]

2022-10-20

Politics

China’s delayed GDP data release fuels speculation over economic health - FFS how could the constant lockdowns not have taken a toll?!

Health

WHO says COVID-19 still an international emergency - seriously, does anyone at all care about what WHO thinks anymore tho’?!

Rare Fanconi anaemia claims lives of 2 women in their 30s with the disease - it’s a genetic condition that affects the bone marrow, causing decreased production of all types of blood cells

Indonesia finds some cough syrups contain ingredients linked to fatal child kidney injury

Art

^ The Pokemon artwork is so much better than the real-life thing

Singapore

Singapore extradites 74-year-old fugitive to US - wanted for bank fraud & embezzlement

New rules to improve safety of workers in lorries will kick in starting from next year

Landlord increases tenant’s rent by 60%, pricing her out

...& meanwhile, 4-room Bendemeer flat is rented out for record $4,6K

MOM officer used found credit card to buy gold ring which he then pawned for cash - already was receiving $5K/month salary but apparently it wasn’t enough... another useless, overly-paid, dishonest, $hit civil servant

Some patients stuck in hospital emergency departments due to lack of beds

Bivalent COVID-19 booster to be offered to those aged 18-49 later in the year - no thanks

Food

Licensee of Eng’s Wanton Noodle fined $3.3K for selling food unfit for consumption - another eatery to avoid, noted

Gossip

James Lye appointed StanChart global head of international banking

[lunarmochi]

sometimes you just search for skull decor on Amazon and think of @skele8rity

It happens

[nickghouliano]

Day 12 #Marrow It's #Ghoultober! #Inktober #spooky #scary #October #artwork #ghoul #ghoultober2021 #artistsontwitter #artistsoninstagram #artistonfacebook #ink #comic #comics #comicbooks #evil #horror #horrorart #bone #flesh #fracture #skeleton #zombie #monster #rage #injury #cannibal #voodoo #villain https://www.instagram.com/p/CU81FqVrEPN/?utm_medium=tumblr