#graphite oysters
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Turns out, draw a box doesn't fit into my brain. I thought it would be a useful in its structure but I think I have to let it go again and accept it's just not meant for me. I still like a little structure though, so I've scheduled a day out of the week I can devote to my art. I can choose to doodle all day or just have an hour long painting session, etc. It's up to me what I do when the day comes around again.
I'm also considering getting The Artists Way and finally reading it since it's been on my list forever. Need to rekindle some creativity I think. :)
I'm still figuring this out. I want to improve but I also have to be willing to accept that certain systems will work better for me than others. It's a tool and I need it to work for me instead of forcing myself to do something I hate. That just sucks all the fun out.
So, we start anew!
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MORE SCOUT HEADCANONS???? THIS MUTHAFUCKER OUT OF CONTROL!!!!
YALL THOUGHT I WAS DONE⁉️⁉️⁉️BACK WITH IT AGAIN YALL KNOW THE DRILL 🗣️🗣️
He tries to swim in the air if he's held by the waist
He died on December 4th 1987 because he finally listened to something other than Tom Jones for the first time in seven years and melted into a hot radioactive waste full of uranium, radium, graphite, zirconium, titanium magnesium and silicone dioxide. The song was "Walk Like an Egyptian" by The Bangles.
The only facial hair he ever had has a fu manchu
He has ridiculously big earlobes that he gauges when he's 30
He and spy once tricked a bunch of oysters on a beach to come back home with them but spy are them all before scout could even get the seasonings.
SIKE BITCH!!! THESE ARE TOKI HEADCANONS 🗣️🗣️🗣️
Toki Wartooth 🔛🔝❗❗❗
He also has giant earlobes, but every cat he's ever has sucks on them so he can't gauge them
He'd like to be under the sea in an octopus' garden, in the shade.
He hates everything to do with whipping. Or caning. If he hears a belt snap he starts chewing on his hand until it bleeds.
He was hyperdontia, and his canines are spiked because they're chipped!
He can sew very well, and has a pimp hat with Garfield embroidered on it.
The first American song he ever heard in America was "nasty bxtch" by bustdown.
He claims that the Norse god Loki appears in his room on occasion and leaves him peppers and sweets. This actually DOES happen. but every single time, Toki has been microdosing datura so even he has no idea if it's true.
He Stole a lobster and named it Björk. He's also stolen both hands from a mannequin in a jc Penny's when he was 17 in America.
He came to America when he was 16 years old, very close to 17, and had his 17th birthday in a thrift shop with an old couple.
Got high and called Dr rockso up and said "yous a bitch. Your mom ams a bitch. Your hair ams wack. Yo gear ams wack. Uuuuhhhh, Kafkaesque. Fuckins' pogo the clown bitch.... Okay, loves you rockzo, bye! *+꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡"
Rockzo was sitting right next to him egging him on.
A fan drove his car over a bridge with his wife inside over him but Charles made sure he never found out.
He listens to music while coloring and Murderface heard him listening to power metal, glam rock, 1980s pop, and death metal. In the midst of it all, pain loomed over them when ave maria began playing. Murderface brought him some garlic pickles after that.
His favorite pony is rainbow dash.
Anthrax doesn't affect him for whatever reason
He has a very faint scar that wraps from one end of his face, over the nose, and across to the other side (I'm not just projecting bro trust 🙏🏼)
His second favorite drink is pineapple fanta he WILL tear that shit up. Put a grocery store clerk outta house and home. Give the landfills somethin to cry about. Nathan walked into his room vaguely frightened and witnessed him surrounded by pineapple sody pop. It dripped from his his hands and walls n shit like a crime scene involving a mace.
Nathan quells his rage with pineapple slices. Pickles carbonated pineapple juice for him in secret and says "hehe quick get in there lil fucker." Skwisgarr lost an eyebrow to this event.
Goes to the Everglades and straight up harasses nature
#headcannons#tf2 scout#team fortess 2#team fortress two#fanon#toki wartooth#deathklok#metalocalypse#death metal#shitpost#shitposting#dank humor#fresh memes#dank memes#sparkling list
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Oyster catchers flight sketch | Limited edition fine art print from an original drawing.
My sketches start life as hand-drawn graphite images made on cartridge paper. I often work on these with charcoal, oil pastel or Caran d'Ache to create the look I'm after. The artwork is then scanned and finessed digitally ready for fine art printing. This process often referred to as Giclée printing uses the highest standard of printing methods to give gallery quality results that maintain all the details of the original sketch.
The graphite pencils I use are Faber-Castel, the oil pastels are Sennelier and the china-graph is Caran d’Ache. The inks are pigment based archive quality (100years+). The heavyweight specialist papers I use are of the best professional quality having a wonderful surface designed specifically for fine art drawings and illustrations.
Very limited editions with only ten per size printed.
All artwork is signed and includes a certificate of authenticity.
The A5 are 5.8" x 8.25" (14.8cm x 21cm)
The A4 are 8.25" x 11.7" (21cm x 29.8cm)
The A3 are 11.7" x 16.5" (29.8 cm x 42cm)
The A2 are 16.5" x 23.4" (42 cm x 59.4cm)
Frames not included in price.
Free shipping on artwork to UK destinations.
https://www.seanbriggs.co.uk/product/oyster-catchers-flight/?feed_id=2315&_unique_id=6594568bdee1d
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As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Forty-Two: The Pearl, The Oyster, and The Boudoir
ao3 link
Little by little, Christine filled out five whole days in her journal for the paper, and yet, she still had her doubts about how she wanted the whole thing to go. To funnel her thoughts and feelings into more proper words, and to do so for Alex’s eyes as well: there seemed to be something that held her back from writing either the true words from the journal or to gloss over everything and go formal. She found herself caught up in an unseen tug-of-war between wanting to show him everything and only showing him what she wanted to show off to him. It grew to a point that she stalled out the weekend prior to the due date.
There was quite a bit for her to do by that Friday, but she knew she could meet up with him after class that day before she had to leave for the bus. A simple question was all she needed, a simple answer was all she wanted from him. She knew that she could tell him but she also worried about him finding out about the truth. There was so much in that journal that she didn’t want to tell him yet, and so much that she had no idea as to how to break to him.
Christine took her seat at her desk with her journal right before her. The robin’s egg blue cover shimmered under the lamplight; the mere suggestion of having to take her journal with her to school made her skin crawl, as she pictured herself dropping it somewhere and having someone pick it up and find it for their own enjoyment. The mere thought of asking Alex on how to start the paper left an awful taste in her mouth, but the suggestion of having her journal under her arm all day only made her grimace. The suggestion of having herself out in the open like that, whether intentionally or by accident, was a fear that she could not shake no matter what she did the next day.
“I can’t afford to be vulnerable,” she said aloud. “I look and feel ridiculous.”
She closed her eyes as as she rested her hands on the front cover of the journal. The leather felt smooth on her skin and the smell of the ink remained in the air over the desk before her. The thought of being in bed with Alex drove a wave of sleepiness over her, but for him to pick her brain in that circumstance sent a shiver up her spine and brought a deep pit to her stomach. It was like she had a rift between mind and body and no way to close the gap between the two entities.
“I also kind of feel bad because I feel like I’m going to be found out,” she said aloud with a shake of her head. Christine glanced down to the drawers on her right, where she spotted her book bag rested down on the floor leaned against the bottom one. There was a book in the very front that needed to be read, and she decided to do that instead of ruminate on the paper. There were a number of books for her to read, and she hoped that she could find more in the library when no one was looking.
Anything to remove her mind off of the matter. She spent the rest of the evening reading until it was time for bed, and then the next morning, she looked on at her journal on the desk before her and picked it up, and she tucked it into the very back of her book bag. It was going to be safe behind her two binders, her pencil bag, and the book, but it weighed her down more than before then. At least she didn’t have to carry her art supplies over her shoulder like that, and she could ride the bus like normal.
Christine was nearly done with the big drawing, and she could move onto her colored pencils as well as more anatomical drawings with the hard graphite. She stood there at the table in the classroom with the pencil in her hand, and once she glanced around the room, she realized she was the only one standing up. The only one who stood over her drawing pad, the only one who jutted up from the edge of the table with her hands down on the paper. The only one who stood alone.
Once the reality stood out to her, she wanted to sit down but she couldn’t see the very top of the paper, however. She stayed standing until the end of the class period.
Christine was greeted by Alex’s smiling bespectacled face and the sleeves of his top shirt rolled down over his wrists to accentuate their shape. The way that his shirt hugged his body only made her want him next to her more. Eric had brushed his hair to where it had a soft sheen at the crown, and yet, she could only look at Alex’s body and the way it was shaped under the shirt.
In fact, that was all she could fixate on throughout the entire period. Once he released them at thirty minutes through, she lingered back and took advantage of the remaining twenty. It was a feeling that came on the back of her concern.
“Yes, my dear Christine?” he asked her with a slight raise of his eyebrows and a nudge of his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
“I don’t really know how to get started on the paper,” she told him.
“Okay! Uh… could you… I dunno, lead me into it a little? You know me, I like details.”
“Indeed, you do,” she replied with a little shake of her head about. She could feel her journal in her book bag next to her as if she harbored the biggest secret ever.
“I really just… have no clue how to do this, to be perfectly frank,” she confessed. “I don’t know how else to say it. I have the five days written down, in all of their rawness and what have you.”
“It’s just getting to the formal part that’s overwhelming,” he followed along.
“Exactly. Because I want to be… up front and honest with you, but I also want it to be clear and academic.”
Alex nudged his glasses up his nose, and then he leaned back against the edge of the desk with his hands tucked into his jeans pockets.
“Christine, you know me,” he began. “I’m not a formal guy. Mr. Hansen is more formal than me. Miss Rocco who teaches tech writing down the hall, is miles more formal than me. I got here on coffee, fights with geese, and day-old matzo. You have seen me with my pants off, my chubby belly hanging out, my bare ass, my bare feet, the inside of my armpits, the inside of my nose, the inside of my crotch… all of it. You have smelled me. I talk about sex in here. I’m cheating on my girlfriend with you! I’m a bastard. I’m a filthy rotten bastard to the core.” Christine gazed into his eyes, shielded by the lenses of his glasses, and yet they had a slight twinkle in them, and one not from excitement. “I don’t want you to write like you’re down the hall—especially there because tech writing is… just that, tech writing. But I want you to do what feels best for you, especially since you’re doing it for me.”
Christine sighed through her nose and brought her hands down to the front of her jeans. She eyed the shock of gray at the top of his head, the roots of which seemed a lot more silver than she remembered.
“Also, do we have to write it in French?” she asked him.
“If you want to,” he quipped with a shake of his head and a sly smile on his face. “In fact, you know what? I would be rather impressed if you whipped out a paragraph or two en français.”
She chuckled at that, and it was right then she had an idea as to what to do right then.
“Also, do we have to type it up?” she added.
“Yes, yes, yes. That’s like the one formal part of it that I want is the typing and printing out part. Do you have a computer?”
“My mom does,” she replied.
“Ah, beautiful! Have at it, my Strawberry Girl. Um…” He rubbed the tip of his nose. “Do you need a ride home?”
“I don’t, no,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Eric and I’ll be riding the bus home. But thank you, though.”
A brief silence fell over them as he bowed his head and showed her a little smile.
“You know me… my fucked up disgusting vulgar self, and yet, you still love me,” he said in a quiet voice.
“It’s what I can do,” she admitted to him with a shrug of her shoulders.
“You better get going,” he told her with a brief glimpse at his watch. “And yeah, I finally got my watch back.”
“Good boy,” she said with a flutter of her eyelashes. “Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow? Nah, I gotta help my mom with some things. I’ve got another trio show coming up not next weekend but the weekend after. We also have some time in the studio coming up here, and then I’m doing a solo show the first weekend of spring break.”
“A solo show!” she declared.
“Yup, and you, my dear, are going to be in the front row, dead center right before me.”
“Oh, wow! I wonder how that’s going to go.”
“I’ll leave that as a little surprise for you down the line.” Alex flashed her a wink and then puckered his lips to her. Christine straightened the strap of her book bag over her shoulder, and then she bowed out of there for the door. Right as she reached the door, she stopped and turned to see him there with his head bowed a bit.
“You got into a fight with geese?” She chuckled at that.
“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later,” he said with a slight chuckle himself. She showed him a smile and blew him a kiss before she walked out to the bus stop to meet up with Eric and everyone else out there. At least it wasn’t snowing again.
Given Valentine’s Day was that Monday, she thought about what she could do for him. The mere thought of him spending the weekend with Captain Howdy made her stomach turn and her heart sink in her chest, especially when she thought about what he could do after he came home from his mother’s house. There was only so much she could do for him from that point forward, however: once again so close and yet so far away from her all at the same time. But there had to be something she could do for him for Valentine’s Day.
She thought about all the times that day rolled around when she was in school, all the little cards with the cartoon characters on the inside and the pink and red candies. She still had a long way to go in the art world, but it was something to consider.
Once Christine returned home for the weekend, she took out the other one of her drawing pads and began drawing a little cartoon of Alex. The round face, the round little belly, the lanky little body, and the black hair with the shock of gray at the top. She figured the paper was thick enough to hold her alcohol markers, which always bled through any other kind: she knew her white pencil could only do so much for the drawing itself.
The lighter pink for his skin, a hint of bright yellow for his cheekbones and the full tip of his nose, the lighter brown for the shading around his jaw and his eyes. Hints of blue in his black hair. Carefully, she put a pencil to the roots of his gray streak.
She figured solid black would be the best for his pants, including a slender blank space down the sides to give him a seam. His guitar would be a bit more geometric and with some hints of red to boot, just like the nylon guitar that he showed off to Mr. Hansen’s class.
The music teacher with black leather pants, a plain white shirt, and a dark red acoustic guitar right next to him.
She leaned back in the chair and gazed on at it, her first full drawing all on her own and without the eyes of a teacher looking on at it, either. She figured it would be best to leave it unsigned. The next thing was to figure out how to give it to him without anyone looking as she tucked it in between her second binder and her journal.
Come Monday, she walked into the cafeteria in the hopes of grabbing a cup of coffee, and she chuckled to herself at the suggestion of Alex buying her a coffee maker; but then she recognized that head of feathery blonde hair behind the counter taking orders—
“Nelly!”
Nelly turned her attention to her with her lips parted. Even from across the room, she could see the fatigue in her eyes.
“Nelly, oh, my god, how are you?” Christine asked her as she came within earshot. Nelly handed an order back to one of the cooks behind her, and then she strode over to Christine.
“I’ve been writing,” she told her in a low voice. “I got paid leave and I was needing time off, so I took it for myself. I’ve been working on a novel idea for three years now, and I finally found the time to get some progress on it.” She rested a hand on her hip and fetched up a sigh.
“What the hell was that thing you gave me when I visited you a few weeks back?” Christine asked her.
“I wanted to give you an encouragement,” she explained. “I was up to my eyeballs in work and I didn’t want to be bothered.”
“Yeah, Jasper the doorman mentioned something about you having a ‘do not disturb’ sign on your door,” Christine recalled.
“Yeah, I literally didn’t want to be distracted by anything in the first week or so,” Nelly elaborated. “I left once a week to go grocery shopping, usually on Sundays because there’s often no one there.”
“Well, why didn’t you explain it to me beforehand instead of concerning all of us? Alex, Eric, Valentina, and I were all worried about you. And it didn’t help matters that it came about right after you took us to the graveyard in the middle of the night.”
“The whole thing was spontaneous,” Nelly said with a shrug. “I would’ve told you but it all just happened at the last minute. And I’m sorry that it came about suddenly like that, but I wanted you to go there to visit him. I didn’t know if I was going to get another chance or if you were, so it was totally in the moment.” She rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry that I frightened you. Let me make it up to you.”
Christine then reached into her book bag for the cartoon that she made on Friday night, still tucked between her journal and her binder.
“Could you go over to French literature and give this to Alex when you have a chance?” she suggested.
“Oh, this is cute!” Nelly decreed, and she took off one glove to hold onto it with a clean hand. “Why should I give it to him?”
“I want it to be a surprise,” she said, and Nelly grinned at her.
“Ah, so a little Valentine’s romanticism. I see what you’re getting at. I have my break in about an hour, so I’ll head over there lock, stock, and barrel. Don’t you worry about it.” She flashed her a wink, and then Christine straightened herself up in relief.
“Thank you,” she told her. “Thank you so much—I’ll be back here for lunch. I’ve been missing your pie.”
“I’ve been missing your pie, too!” Nelly declared, and they both laughed out loud at that. Christine scurried away to her drawing class. She was eager for Alex to see that drawing once the time came, and she wondered if Nelly would have a good story to cover for her once she handed it off to him.
The butterflies danced in her stomach once the time came for French literature, and she breezed into the room with her hands tucked into her pockets as if she minded her own business. Alex stood at the podium with his elbow leaned against the edge closest to him and a warm look on his face as if something tickled him. His black hair seemed to float over his head and his skin seemed a bit plumper and more radiant than before: he once again wore that black shirt with the buttoned collar and the baseball sleeves. Christine took her seat before him, and he raised his gaze to her: it was right then she realized he was reading.
Eric took his spot next to her and in front of him, followed by more students behind them.
“Hope everyone is having a good Valentine’s Day…” His voice trailed off as he picked up the cartoon from the desk, and then he showed it off to the class. Christine raised her eyebrows at it, and she wondered how Nelly delivered it to him.
“Oh, cute!”
“Oh, wow, that’s awesome,” Eric declared. “Who made that?”
“I don’t know, it’s not signed,” Alex said, and he turned it back towards him. “I just walked in here a few hours ago and found it on my desk. It’s really beautiful, though. Big and bright and colorful—I’m gonna get this framed after school today.” He beamed at the drawing, and Christine nibbled on her bottom lip. The look in his eyes that she only saw whenever he was in a good mood, complete with a slight misting to his eyelashes. She did it. She did something that Captain Howdy could never do for him.
Indeed, the drawing left him mystified all period long as he launched into a brief discussion about art from France.
“I just… I can’t stop looking at this,” he said at one point. “I mean, this is so wonderful. I hope I can find the artist because they deserve to know of their greatness. After I grade your papers, I want you guys to start reading about the arts, and we’ll go from there. In the meantime, class dismissed! Once again with minutes to spare.”
Christine stood to her feet and picked up her bag; Eric did the same and gave his hair a toss with the flick of his head.
“I’ll catch up with you,” she said to him.
“I gotta get a book from the library,” he told her as he pulled his hood over his head. “I also have to pick up Lou from his mom’s place over in Greenwich. His car won’t start and he doesn’t have enough change for the subway. So, I’ll be waiting for you!”
She watched him off and, once she was alone in the classroom with Alex, she turned to him.
“I made this,” Christine told him in a hushed voice.
“This was you?” To which he raised his eyebrows in awe.
“It was all me,” she replied.
“No wonder why it makes me feel all warm inside,” he remarked with a gentle pat on his chest. She leaned forth with her arms around his belly and her lips locked with his own.
“Happy Valentine’s Day—I love you,” she whispered into his lips. “I love you so very much.”
“Not in the classroom, though,” he whispered back to her as her lips grazed against his skin.
“Nobody’s here, though,” she pointed out as she cupped his handsome face in her hands. Another deep kiss, and he bowed away from her. He ran his fingers through his black hair and looked on at her, once again with the mist in his eyes.
“Something you want to tell me?” she asked him.
“I feel myself falling more for you, my Strawberry Girl,” he confessed. “I mean, I have always loved you but I feel like I’m uncovering more and more in there for you. And yet, I don’t really know how to say it to you at times because I feel like we’re worlds apart, like you and I have nothing in common with each other and we can’t do it together. It feels like such a dumb little crush, like that of a schoolboy. It’s… it’s silly and ridiculous, and it leaves a fluttery feeling in my stomach, like I feel as though I’m about to toss my cookies any second now and I need a ginger ale.” He clasped his hands to his belly and bowed his head. “But… there is something more here, however. I have a wedding ahead of me come the summertime, a date that feels so close and yet so distant at the same time, with a woman whom I both love and wish to leave behind in the dust. I want to make her happy but I also feel so lost and without a way out of it all, as if I have become the color gray. I’m a ship without a rudder, a horse with no legs, a man with no country, and I can’t make up my mind, either. I don’t know what I want. I want the ring but I also want the art and the darkness, the freedom. I want both things. I want both lives, even with time whittling down, my time graying, myself graying, everything turning a deeper shade of gray even if I choose one or the other. God damn it all to hell, why can’t I have both lives? I’m in love with both lives. I need both. I need to find a way to have both, even knowing how much she hurts me and makes me feel bad for having a desire to indulge and have fun in life, and even knowing that Christine is often far away from me and our time together is so limited by the presence of school and living only a short distance away. I must have both, and yet I have this nagging feeling that I must choose between the two. I must but I don’t want to. I don’t ever want to—”
Alex was interrupted by Christine lunging for him whereby she gave him the hardest kiss yet. She rested her hands on the small of his back and tugged him closer to her body: her breasts rubbed against his chest, and she wished that she wore nothing on top just to stimulate him some more.
To stimulate him more so he could be all for her. She let go of his lips and ran the tip of her tongue along the side of his face.
“You taste good,” she told him.
“But… I don’t want to choose,” he sputtered. “I can’t, and I don’t want to—”
“Be with me,” she interrupted him.
“What?”
Christine placed her index finger upon his lips to keep him silent.
“Rest your head,” she whispered right into his face, and she had no idea as to where this came from, either; “then be with me.”
Alex raised his eyebrows at her, and she locked eyes with him.
“Be—with—me,” she whispered to him. “I don’t ever want to see you with anyone else.”
He swallowed, and she could feel his body relaxing in her arms.
“I don’t know if I can do this yet,” he confessed to her.
“But I want you, though,” she insisted. “And I want you to be away from her, too. It’s obvious to me that she hurts you so much.”
“I don’t know what I want,” he continued in a near whisper. Christine leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.
“Take your time,” she coaxed him. “You did that with me, so… I’m relaying that to you.”
He closed his eyes and showed her a sweet smile.
“I don’t deserve you,” he breathed. “You have schooled me.” She kissed him again, and he rested a hand on the side of his face. He opened his eyes right as she turned away and headed for the door.
“Christine!” he called after her. She turned to face him, still with his hand on his face. “We’re playing at the Iridium.”
“I’ll be there,” she vowed to him with another wink.
She sighed through her nose as she walked on down the hallway. It was all up to him from there on out, and all she had to do was wait.
#Spotify#as the seasons grey#as the seasons grey fanfic#fanfic#fanfiction#chapter 42#fanfic with art#testament#testament band#alex skolnick#eric peterson#oc art#oc tag#traditional art#traditional drawing#artists on tumblr#badgalnirvhannahart
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Thyroid Troubles? Finding Relief with Homeopathy
The thyroid is a small gland located in the neck that plays a vital role in regulating metabolism, energy levels, and overall well-being. When the thyroid malfunctions, it can lead to a variety of health problems, including fatigue, weight gain, hair loss, and difficulty concentrating.
What are the symptoms of thyroid problems?
The symptoms of thyroid problems can vary depending on whether the thyroid is underactive (hypothyroidism) or overactive (hyperthyroidism). Some of the most common symptoms of hypothyroidism include:
Fatigue
Weight gain
Cold intolerance
Dry skin
Hair loss
Constipation
Difficulty concentrating
Depression
Some of the most common symptoms of hyperthyroidism include:
Weight loss
Increased appetite
Heat intolerance
Sweating
Tremors
Anxiety
Irregular heart beat
How can homeopathy help with thyroid problems?
Homeopathic treatment for thyroid problems is a safe and natural way to address the underlying imbalance and relieve symptoms. Homeopathic remedies are made from natural substances that stimulate the body's own healing process.
There are many different homeopathic remedies that can be used to treat thyroid problems. Some of the most common remedies include:
Thyroidinum: This remedy is made from the tissue of the thyroid gland and is often used to treat hypothyroidism.
Calcarea carbonica: This remedy is made from oyster shells and is often used to treat hypothyroidism in people who are tired, sluggish, and have a hard time losing weight.
Nux vomica: This remedy is made from the seeds of the nux vomica plant and is often used to treat hyperthyroidism in people who are irritable, anxious, and have difficulty sleeping.
Graphites: This remedy is made from graphite and is often used to treat hypothyroidism in people who are overweight, have dry skin and hair, and feel cold all the time.
How to find a homeopathic practitioner for thyroid problems
If you're interested in using homeopathic treatments for thyroid problems, it's important to find a qualified practitioner. You can find a practitioner in your area by visiting the website of the National Center for Homeopathy.
When you're choosing a homeopathic practitioner, it's important to find someone who is experienced and qualified. You should also feel comfortable with the practitioner and confident in their ability to care for you.
What to expect from homeopathic treatment for thyroid problems
Homeopathic treatment for thyroid problems is individualized and tailored to your specific needs. During your first appointment, your homeopathic practitioner will take a detailed history of your health and symptoms. They will also ask you about your lifestyle, diet, and family medical history.
Based on your information, your homeopathic practitioner will recommend a course of treatment. This may include taking homeopathic remedies, making changes to your diet and lifestyle, and taking other natural supplements.
It's important to be patient with homeopathic treatment. It may take several weeks or months to see results. However, many people find that homeopathy can be a very effective way to relieve symptoms and improve their overall health.
Conclusion
Thyroid problems can be a challenging condition to deal with. However, homeopathic treatment can provide a safe and natural way to find relief and improve your well-being. If you're struggling with thyroid problems, I encourage you to talk to a homeopathic practitioner to learn more about how homeopathy can help you.
Additional tips for managing thyroid problems:
Eat a healthy diet: Eating a diet that is rich in fruits, vegetables, and whole grains is essential for good health. It will give your body the nutrients it needs to function properly.
Get regular exercise: Exercise is also important for good health. It helps to boost the immune system, improve sleep quality, and reduce stress levels.
Get enough sleep: Sleep is essential for growth and development. Make sure you're getting enough sleep each night.
Reduce stress: Stress can have a negative impact on your health. Find ways to help you manage stress, such as yoga or meditation.
Consider other natural therapies: In addition to homeopathy, there are other natural therapies that can help to support thyroid health, such as acupuncture and herbal medicine.
By following these tips, you can take control of your thyroid health and improve your overall well-being.
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Compiled Scents
Mustard
Peppermint
Whiskey
Dark Chocolate
Root Beer
Squid Ink Pasta
Wheat
Coffee
Custard
Popcorn
Meatballs
Chocolate Fudge
Chocolate Cake
Barbecue Sauce
Pepper
Carrots
Fresh Fish
Coca-Cola
Tequila
Wine
Bacon
Caviar
Oysters
Chicken Broth
Protein Powder
Ginger
Tea
Vodka
Calamari
Dog Food
Maple Syrup
Licorice
Coconut
Eggnog
Olives
Mud
Wet Forest Floor
Flowing River
Cedarwood
Rusted Iron
Wet Fur
Amber
Forest
Roses
Fresh Blood
Leather
Coal
Mahogany
Cactus
Driftwood
Bones
Salt
Ash
Flint
Shedded Fur
Graphite
Lava
Cattails
Hay
Tar
Obsidian
Charcoal
Gasoline
Vinyl
Engine Exhaust
Satin
Gunpowder
Wet Cement
Velvet
Hot Iron
Frayed Wires
Change
Corks
Cigarettes
Mochi
Pumpkin
Rice
Sushi
Cantaloupe
Gingerbread
Honey
Toffee
Cheese
Gingersnaps
Flour
Filtered Water
Champagne
Molasses
Butter
Tap Water
Breads
Macadamia Nuts
Almonds
Brown Sugar
Rotting Fish
Tuna
Sake
Grapes
Figs
Yogurt
Milk
Hazelnuts
Chestnuts
Banana
Macaroni and Cheese
Peanut Butter
Silver
Earth
Oil
Aluminum
Copper
Clay
Aloe Vera
Fresh Rain
Lilies
Ice
Sand
Glue
Melted Wax
Ironed Laundry
Shoe Shiner
Spray Paint
Rubber
Soap
Wet Plaster
Sparks
Cotton
Instant Film Accord
Fresh Laundry
Burnt Sugar
Lemons
Pina Colada
Bubblegum
Melted Marshmallows
Crème Brûlée
White Chocolate
Sugar
Cinnamon
Whipped Cream
Pineapple
Shortbread Cookies
Maraschino Cherry
Cotton Candy
Lollipops
Papaya
Apricots
Margarita
Peaches
Mint
Candied Orange
Cranberry
Caramel
Raspberry Jam
Key Lime Pie
Frosting
Candied Apple
Meringues
Coconut Pie
Macroons
Sugar Crystals
Honeycomb
Cherry Blossoms
Tulips
Daises
Lavender
Pulveroboletus Ravenelli (a type of sweet-smelling mushroom)
Lip Gloss
Sandalwood
Maple
Citrus of any kind (lemon, orange, grapefruit, lime, etc)
Berries of any kind (strawberries, blackberries, raspberries, blueberries, etc)
Rosemary
Sugar-clove
Moss
Pine
Chocolate
Lemongrass
Cloves
Pomegranate
Cypress
Sage
Teakwood
Pecan
Cherry
Rose water
Firewood
Myrrh
Mocha
Machine oil
Red velvet
Cupcakes/cakes
Pancakes/waffles
Iron
Shampoos/deodorants
burnt anything
Smoke
Pine Trees
Fireplace
Aftershave
Old Spice
Burning Wood
Apple Pie
New Car Smell
BBQ
Matches
Fresh Money
Patchouli
Seawater
Seaweed
Pears
Pesto
Sautéed Onions
Funnel Cake
Fresh Cut Grass
Ink
Snap Fire Crackers
Wet Dog
Rancid Meat
Blood
Sweaty Feet
Bamboo
Shortbread
Macaroons
Sharpies
Baby Powder
Butterscotch
Mangos
Sautéed Garlic
Marigolds
Lilacs
Vanilla
Soda
Vinegar
Chocolate Covered
Jasmine
Spearmint
Old Books
Honeysuckle
Eucalyptus
Marijuana
Cinnamon Bun
Apples
Sea Breeze
Magnolia Trees
Thunderstorms
Cherries
S’mores
Cookies Fresh from the Oven
Sky After it Rains
Smell of Baskin Robins
Burnt Rubber
Rotten Eggs
Bleach
Nail Polish Remover
Fresh clean laundry
Wood
Paper (old or new)
Sugarcane
Straw
Rosin
Cocoa
Dough
Oats
Herbs
spices‐ anise, clove, nutmeg, savory paprika cardamom
Root vegetables
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This is my work for the BITE-sized project. The animal that I came up with was a mixture of three different animals that existed. The body of a grasshopper, head of an ant and the teeth of a fish. The two ‘snacks’ have different ways to eat them, the smaller one is eaten whole with no other preparation while the bigger one is eaten like an oyster. The larger one is also expensive and more of a delicacy whilst the smaller one is a street snack anyone could afford.
I had used a dark blue- almost black paint as a base and used the dry brush technique to add a layer of light blue to add a outcome that I really like. This is used for both of the snacks. The smaller one was also harder to make as it had many smaller details needed to be added and intricate wing that was harder to make. On the other hand the skull was easier but took the same amount of time if not more because of the indented details and the teeth needed to be painted twice.
The circular board was cut out and aged by using coffee and graphite that resulted in the nice old look that makes the whole work combine well together.
Another thing that took a long while is the rubber latex I used to stick the inside of the bigger snack. I had to pour and dry three layers to make it stick out and hold it together. Although it was a long task it turned out better than expected. It also works really well with the concept that I had.
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Let’s Go To Cisco ‘Cisco Home’ was founded by Cisco Pinedo in the early 90s. Pinedo began making custom furniture out of his garage in South Central. The company has since grown to encompass six retail showrooms. In 2006, Pinedo developed the ‘Inside Green™’ method of construction and became the first designer to create 100 percent ‘FSC Pure’ sustainable upholstered furniture. Pinedo uses ‘FSC Pure’ certified woods for upholstered furniture, reclaimed hardwoods for a collection of case goods, and water-based glues and environmentally friendly detergents to wash all fabrics. Natural and organic upholstery and slipcover options include linens, hemps and velvets in shades of oyster, lichen, stone and graphite. #neonurchin #neonurchinblog #dedicatedtothethingswelove #suzyurchin #ollyurchin #art #music #photography #fashion #film #design #words #pictures #love #sustainable #environmentallyfriendly #organiccotton #wool #jute #hemp #organiclatex #waterbasedglues #refoundry #META #craftmanship #artisans #ciscopinedo #ciscobrothers #ciscohome (at California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CggqALbMaNl/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#neonurchin#neonurchinblog#dedicatedtothethingswelove#suzyurchin#ollyurchin#art#music#photography#fashion#film#design#words#pictures#love#sustainable#environmentallyfriendly#organiccotton#wool#jute#hemp#organiclatex#waterbasedglues#refoundry#meta#craftmanship#artisans#ciscopinedo#ciscobrothers#ciscohome
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Loud shrieks draw her attention from her mending to the trees lining the perimeter of the field where she and the rest of her clan have spent the past ten spring and summer seasons. The tamp of little boots on loamy soil are the only warning she receives before five children burst through the forest edge. The little girls speedily throw themselves in their mothers’ arms near the ever-burning bonfire, giggling, as the boys whoop and tumble into the pile of sleeping dogs purportedly guarding the livestock. Her son, six years old and independent enough now that she allows him to frolic with the older children, is not among them. She hands the battered chainmail to her assistant over the thick butcher block table they’d bought from the ailing smith several miles downhill, and dusts her trousers free of metal chips and dust.
“Your boy never minds the time, does he?” The young woman tsks over the warped steel circles. “Can’t imagine the other children would know where he is, given he’s prone to lagging behind.”
“I’m sure he’s nearby. I’ve always told him to keep to the edges or follow the creek, if he wished to go deeper.”
“And if he’s his father’s son, then he’s sure to heed your words.” Her assistant laughs, likely recalling those renowned courtship squabbles with fondness, despite how young she would have been then. “Go; I’ll keep the fires.”
Ebba clips her sword belt to her hips before departing, tilting her head in greeting to a passing warrior as she sets out to where the children had exited the forest. It takes twenty minutes before she catches a flash of the faded pink ribbon she’d used to bind her son’s long brown hair earlier in the morn. Drawing closer, she discovers that it had been tied to a low branch of a spindly, dying tree, and underneath this little flag sits her son, cross-legged and focused intensely on something nearby, an open notebook resting on his knee and graphite pen in his hand. His long ears twitch at the approach of heavy footfalls, and he swivels, jumping up and knocking his notebook to the forest floor. “Mama.”
“It’s thoughtful of you to mark where you are, for me to come find you,” Ebba says drily. Her son flushes, retrieving his book and shoving his pen into the pocket of his shorts.
“I thought it would help,” he says, “I kept up with Freja and Lukas and them ‘til the end, up and down the creek, when I found these. Look.”
He points to a ruffling swath of oyster mushrooms which have overtaken the base of the thick hardwood tree two feet away, nestled between patches of fuzzy moss and lichen. In the shafts of light bleeding through the forest canopy, deposits of white particulates are visible amidst the roughened wood underneath the shelf. “Spores, dear,” she intuits, knowing her son has seen the mushrooms themselves on the kitchen cutting board. With a soft tug, she unravels the ribbon from the branch. Ebba beckons her boy to tilt his head, so that she may gather the loose hair into a braid.
“When the temperature and the humidity are right, mushrooms release them into the air, so the wind takes them further away and so animals may gather them in their fur as they travel These have dropped to land right on the tree without the help of the wind,” she murmurs, tying a simple knot and tossing the completed braid over his shoulder.
“Like tree pollen. It makes me sneeze.” Her son nods, pulling at the strands tight on his scalp.
“In a way; male plants and parts produce and release pollen to fertilize the female plants or parts in the area—we are able to grow fruits and vegetables because of plant pollination. Mushrooms don’t have male or female anatomy. The spores of the oyster mushroom are released from the gills, and from these spores, mycelia forms, that eventually produce mushrooms to spread more spores, if the conditions are right.” She pulls a dagger from her belt, and slices a cap from the shelves to present the underside for him to study, which he does with two fingers clamping his nose shut. Ebba laughs, and his brow wrinkles. She sets the mushroom cap on the ground and wipes her hands on the threadbare handkerchief she pulls from her apron pockets.
“It is good to be careful, but it’s alright. You won’t be harmed by this one moment of study. So long as you are not exposed for long periods of time, the spores will not irritate your lungs. What do you think? Are mushrooms interesting?”
“Yes. Are mycelia like roots?” He takes a fallen twig to poke at the fine gills. “As the roots grow from the seed pods we plant, mycelia grows from a spore?”
“A singular spore will germinate some growths, called hyphae, but the contributions of many germinating spores form a network which is called mycelia underneath the ground, and within dead trees. Mycelia may spread to connect and cover whole forests, like the one we stand in; trees and our crops and bugs in the ground pull nutrients from mycelium, which benefits us as well, in the food cycle, because we eat what trees produce, and the fruits and vegetables of our seasonal crops.”
The sharp end of the twig is pushed deeper into the gills, piercing the meat of the cap. “How, mama?”
Her son drops the stick when she clucks her tongue and gestures for them to troop back to their summer home. She draws an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close as they walk, fond of his curiosity. “Alexander, so full of questions. Someday I won’t have answers to everything,” she teases. He rolls his eyes and pouts when she tugs at his braid. “Fortunately, I knew an expert who loved to study mushrooms and their ilk. She told me, when plants and animals die in the natural world, spores may land on them, like those that generated the mushrooms on the dead tree. The spores grow hyphae and form mycelia, which breaks down the dead matter into things it can eat until nothing remains, releasing phosphorus and nitrogen and good plant food to the trees roots. The little bugs that live underground eat mycelium off the roots; bigger and bigger bugs eat those smaller ones that came before it, the birds we raise eat those large bugs, and we eat the birds.”
As she spoke of the cycle to which all the living must contribute, she catches the uneven drum of rough-bitten nails on the soft leather cover of the notebook held to his chest. They step over a fallen log in their path and she allows him to poke about the interface of bark and soil to search for more evidence of mushrooms, until the sky darkens with the passing of gray clouds, and she bids him once more to follow her back home. Slowly, not a minute into the brisk pace, he says, “And when we die, like Grandmother, and we are buried in the ground, we’ll become food for mushrooms, too? And we’ll be gone?”
He’s too smart. She stops their trajectory, and peers down at her son’s face, which has gone somber and uncertain in his contemplation. “Yes. It is not ignoble, to become one with the earth again. Death severs our conscious connection to the world around us, but we still linger in different forms under the ground and atop the soil. Listen,” Ebba says, crouching so she may look up into Alexander’s wide eyes. “When we die, all the particles that make us who we are, the mycelium shall loosen apart. All the things that had become us, they go into the air and the wind and the trees and the earth and all the living things. We’ll never truly vanish; I swear to you. I promise on my honor. No matter how far apart we are laid to rest, the dust shall carry you back to me. With every puff of breeze and drop of running water and catch of fur against the greenery, it shall be inevitable. We are connected wonderfully and beautifully this way. Don’t cry now.”
With trembling fingers, he swipes at the tears gathering under his eyes. “It’s scary.”
“It is,” she acknowledges. “I’m scared, too. But it shouldn’t stop us from living and loving as we do now.” She draws him into an embrace, and his hands clasp tight to the fabric of her shirt, and she thinks of white lace and broken swaths of interlocked steel rings, of lady death and her fruitful dust. The susurrus of rain driving through leafed branches in the distance draws closer, and she hopes darkly that her boy would bury her, rather than she bury him in this awful, tumultuous world. She will die, and her boy will die, and their remains will be taken up by thin gossamer clouds stretching miles upon miles of the breadth and depth of these green lands.
She wants to say, you will never be alone. We who came before you and those you shall teach in your twilight years—we are one in death and dust. She scoops her arms underneath her son’s body and carries him home.
#technoblade#we'll miss you#pardon me for using his real name#i wanted to write something to honor him and his impact and how he would never leave us
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Four new customized @rolex Datejust watches have been released by Private Label Dubai Ltd. The watch is given an almost unidentifiable makeover using unique and beautiful materials. The piece is redesigned in Pink metallic PVD with a Diamond Bezel in the first. DLC steel is combined with Capricorn readings and diamond details in the Graphite Grey version. The third piece in the collection is a steel oyster bracelet with a 36mm Datejust encrusted with white diamonds. Finally, a variation with a Jubilee band and an Arabic marking green dial rounds off the group. All four clocks are available today from @doverstreetmarketlondon, with prices ranging from $19,800 to $31,275 USD. https://www.instagram.com/p/Cdqy5XCq3Z8/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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[11/25/23]
Rough sketch in my Supernote A5X. Ears are atrocious but my brother said this character looked very Dungeons and Dragons. Seeing that as a win. Might throw some color on it later.
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Would't you love just being a tiny mermaid sleeping inside a shell with some shiny pearls?
#art#illustration#pinkaesthetic#aesthetic#mermaid#mermay#soft aesthetic#sleepy#oyster#pearls#pearl#shell#mermaid aesthetic#mermaid art#bunnymagica#graphite
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If you don't mind me asking, do you have any general tips for drawing and coloring? I understand that's a pretty vague request to ask for and that you're probably busy but thank you anyway! ❤️ The variety in your art always amazes me :)
I'm going to give the answers that everyone gives (do studies from life, learn from 'anatomy for artists' books/videos), but I'm also going to try and explain the WHY behind those answers because, honestly? I remember taking my very first art class in middle school, being sat in front of a bowl of fruit, and going 'how tf is this supposed to make me better at drawing anything besides fruit?'
the thing is... it's not about the fruit
(above: Still Life with Oysters and Grapes, Jan Davidsz)
it's about gaining an understanding of light, color, texture, and how all of these combine to form all that we love about the natural world. the above painting, dated 1653, is a perfect example of what studying from life can teach you. it's undeniably beautiful, but blasé at first glance; we've all seen oil paintings of fruit before. BUT... you have to imagine you're seeing something like this for the first time to appreciate it for what it is.
the light and shadow in the folds of the tablecloth that capture its silky texture, the sunlight passing through the grapes and illuminating them from within, the painstaking attention to detail in the variations of leaf texture, the accurate reflections within the metal, glass, and liquid... all of this is possible through practice and observation, through looking past the commonplace nature of everyday objects and by realizing that even a grape can teach us about how to capture the beauty of this world.
AND, you by no means have to take your still life skills to this level to see benefits from them! (I've done relatively few studies compared to some artists) some of the most common questions I see people ask artists are:
how do you know where to put the folds in clothes?
how do you know where the shadows go?
how do you know what color to make the highlights?
how do you KNOW how to do any of this stuff?!
and, well... taking a little time to learn from the natural world is the answer!! every time I paint a metal texture I am remembering when I did a charcoal drawing of a metal pitcher during high school. when I shade the folds in a pair of jeans I'm remembering the handful of times I've done graphite sketches of crumpled up cloth. every time I draw the human body I'm remembering the figure drawing sessions I've done in the past.
I've done studies of skeletons, human and animal musculature, architecture, random objects, copies of famous artists' works, copies of anime artworks, furry artworks, just... anything and everything under the sun, to learn everything I can. because this is what I love, and it doesn't feel like work.
you really just have to get out there and fall in love with the world enough to want to recreate it with your own hands. this is the secret behind every master class painter, everyone who's ever dedicated their life to art and who has spent countless hours creating something... it opens you up to a deeper appreciation of everything around you and makes your art better as a result.
and, again, it doesn't take much. you don't have to go to renaissance oil painter level to see results. grab some charcoal, some newsprint paper, sit yourself down in front of something you personally find beautiful... and draw what you see. if you don't rush it, and remember to be patient with yourself, you might be surprised by what you can create.
#auropost#this is very long but it's how i approach art#it's a way of living more than a single discipline!
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Oyster mushroom sketch | Limited edition fine art print from an original drawing.
My sketches start life as hand-drawn graphite images made on cartridge paper. I often work on these with charcoal, oil pastel or Caran d'Ache to create the look I'm after. The artwork is then scanned and finessed digitally ready for fine art printing. This process often referred to as Giclée printing uses the highest standard of printing methods to give gallery quality results that maintain all the details of the original sketch.
The graphite pencils I use are Faber-Castel, the oil pastels are Sennelier and the china-graph is Caran d’Ache. The inks are pigment based archive quality (100years+). The heavyweight specialist papers I use are of the best professional quality having a wonderful surface designed specifically for fine art drawings and illustrations.
Very limited editions with only ten per size printed.
All artwork is signed and includes a certificate of authenticity.
The A5 are 5.8" x 8.25" (14.8cm x 21cm)
The A4 are 8.25" x 11.7" (21cm x 29.8cm)
The A3 are 11.7" x 16.5" (29.8 cm x 42cm)
The A2 are 16.5" x 23.4" (42 cm x 59.4cm)
Frames not included in price.
Free shipping on artwork to UK destinations.
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just drew this and i think it's the best thing i've ever drawn
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Coral Oysters, John Ruskin, 1868, Harvard Art Museums: Drawings
Harvard Art Museums/Fogg Museum, Gift of Dr. Fritz B. Talbot
Size: 26 x 32.2 cm (10 1/4 x 12 11/16 in.)
Medium: Watercolor, white gouache, and graphite on cream wove paper
https://www.harvardartmuseums.org/collections/object/297454
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