#Bird and Bull Press

[uwmspeccoll]

Decorative Sunday

ROLLER-PRINTED PASTE PAPERS

Most paste papers are done freehand with paper, a starch paste, pigments, and range of brushes and tools to make the designs. In the early 1970s, noted American fine-press printer Henry Morris of Bird & Bull Press devised a method of making paste paper designs using hand-cut rubber hand-rollers. In 1975, he printed and published a manual on his process entitled Roller-Printed Paste Papers of Bookbinding, printed in an edition of 215 copies on his own handmade paper at the Bird & Bull Press in North Hills, Pennsylvania. Shown here are original paste-paper sample included in the book. Morris writes:

A few years ago a friend showed me how to make simple paste papers, and this led to further investigation into this most interesting type of decorated aper, I was intrigued by the the attractive three-dimensional effect and by the seemingly endless variations that are possible.

Our copy is another donation from the estate of our friend Dennis Bayuzick.

View more posts of publications from Bird & Bull Press.

View more posts with paste papers.

View more posts on decorative papers.

View more Decorative Sunday posts.

[bunny-jpeg]

hi can i get profiteroles and honey cruller with hard lemonade with Max Vesrtappen please and thank you, I love your work.

bakery menu

want to submit your own order! i am working over time at the bakery!! the post has more info about fandoms and folks i can write about. i do more than formula one if that tickles your fancy! as for this prompt, i love the combo. the desperation that comes with max wanting the reader to go away with him for a while plus possessive behavior. i hope this order is delish!

profiteroles ("come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go.") + honey cruller ("i forget how small you are sometimes.") + hard lemonade (possessive behavior)

cw: smut/pwp, possessive behavior, size kink, clingy!max, mating press, unprotected sex, sundresses (and their ultimate sex appeal!), small titty!reader, begging

max was a needy boyfriend. you honestly couldn't blame him. after everything, of course he wanted to hold onto you and let go. it went as far as him sleeping next to one of your sweatshirts when he was away and having a polaroid of you in the pocket of his driving suit.

a reminder that you were always with him when he was breaking records and winning races. you were his good luck charm and he worshipped the ground you walked on.

but by god, was max verstappen a possessive boyfriend.

it started with a sundress. it was july in england and you thought you'd bring a bit of sunshine in a cute sundress. it was blue and white, a loose kind of fabric with thin sleeves that required you to go braless.

"you look beautiful." max said as he opened the car door for you and took your hand. he loved to show you off, with his hand on your hip as you walked toward the paddock.

the sun was shining, even the birds were chirping. it all felt good, you had a great feeling for the weekend in your bones!

and then it rained. and when it rained, it poured. and you had very little to protect you. you also didn't realize how thin the fabric of the dress would become when it got wet. (that was never mentioned in the reviews). so there you were, a shivering wet mess. your nipples poking through the shit fabric of the dress.

max had taken it upon himself to get his red bull jacket off and on you, he had even zipped it all the way to your chin to make sure no one could see anything.

you were beyond flustered, but max found it deeply erotic. even after the practice and the media questions, his thoughts were still on you and how cute you looked. you seemed so small, like max needed to take care of you.

and that what he was going to do when he got you back into the hotel room you were sharing for the weekend. thankfully your dress had dried throughout the afternoon, but max still wanted you out of it.

he wanted it a crumpled mess of the floor. when he got you naked and onto the bed, then he became so needy. his lips on his neck and his clothed cock brushed up against your thigh like a whiny animal.

he was still in his briefs with those strong arms around you, rubbing up against you as to get his scent all over you. in a bite of honesty, it was somewhat cute coming from her. the weight of him on top of you prevented you from going anywhere (not that you wanted to).

his pre-cum soaked the front of his briefs as he moved against you. he groaned, "i forget how small you are sometimes. i could break you in two." his voice was strained. he tried to not put so much weight on you, but you pulled him closer to you.

you kissed him and chuckled, "to die under you is an honour."

"you drive me crazy, schat."

"oh really, and why's that?"

he panted against your skin, "that fucking dress. they shouldn't be able to legally sell that. i could see everything."

you looked over to kiss him on the lips. the kiss was quick before he pulled away got onto his knees in front of you. he took his cock out of his briefs and stroked it a few times as he admired our naked body.

you looked better naked than in the dress, but then again you looked better naked than in clothes. except for maybe his red bull hat, but nothing else!

he grabbed you by the hips and got your knees to your ears and exposed your slick cunt to him. he licked his lips like a man in hunger before he sank his cock into you.

"schat." he groaned.

max was a good partner. even though he was so needy for you. but you loved him so. he was a perfect man for you. he let out a tiny whimper and you grabbed at him.

"max. ah, please. i need to feel you close to me." you moaned as you nails dug into the bed to anchor yourself. you kept his eyes on him as he get flustered in the face.

he pressed his chest up against you as he slid his cock into you. your soaked pussy made it easy for him. he loved the feeling of you around him. he wanted to be as close to you as he could. as he got adjusted to your sweet hole he said, "i forget how small you are sometimes. i could easily crush you." he chuckled as he kissed you gently.

the angle wasn't enough for him, so he pulled out and got your knees to your ears and then started to fuck you again. you were almost bent in half as he fucked you.

he groaned against you, "that's it, that's perfect." he loved you in a good mating press. because that meant that you'd feel it in the morning. that it would deter you from wearing that dress. he loved having his weight up against you, it made his heart race as he pushed his cock as deep as it would go. the feeling of you was painfully erotic. you could feel your heartbeat in your throat as he thrusted into you.

"shit, max. ah!" you whined as you gripped onto the bed tightly to keep yourself stable while he bulled his cock deep into your sweet, beautiful cunt.

the sounds of your fucking filled the room as the two of you rutted against one another. your kisses even both more messy the more you two had sex. it was painfully hot for the both of you.

"never wear that dress again, i don't know how to handle myself when you wear it. you look so fucking cute. it makes me want to keep you locked away so nobody else can see how beautiful you are." he was panting heavily the more he thrusted. the sex was a buzz in the back of his mind.

"i didn't know it would've turned you on so much." you moaned.

he was bent over you, he kissed you once more. his cock up to the base. he could feel a bit of spit against the corner of his mouth as he thrusted heavily.

you groaned, "please, max. shit. i won't wear the dress again." you felt his heartbeat in your throat once more.

he panted heavily, balls deep inside of you. he could feel his heart almost beating out of his chest, his eyes were on your rapid rise and fall of his chest. he said, pathetically, so needy, "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go. i need you, i need you in my arms all the time. please." he was almost begging.

you let out a whimper as you felt him continue to thrust into you. his cock nudging against your core, you knew you were going to be sore come morning. he had you knees to your ears and was pressing his weight on you so you wouldn't escape him. as if you would even try to.

"will you?" he asked, he was hunched over you, wanting to kiss your soft lips, "let me spoil you, love you, the way you have for me. please, i just want to hold you. i can't get enough of you!"

you nodded and got your arms around your lover. you pulled him in for a hot kiss and let him continue to fuck you. he was such a desperate man, he wanted to be buried between your thighs every chance he got. you dug your nails into his hair as he bullied your sweet pussy.

he continued to move against you, he shuddered when he felt your sweet cunt grow tighter around him. he could feel the heat down his back as he gripped onto your legs tighter and panted, "i'm close."

you nodded as well, agreeing that you were close to orgasm as well. you couldn't find the words on your lips as he continued to fuck you. you dug your nails into his skin as you finished with a string of sweet moans. a few more heavy thrusts and you whined against your boyfriend and climaxed.

your lover was closed behind you, he finished inside of you quickly and kept you pinned to him for a moment while he tried to compose himself.

he looked in your eyes while he panted heavily. he gave you a small smile as he said, "so, how does a week in france sound? somewhere i can keep you to myself."

you chuckled and pushed the hair out of your face, "i'd love that. more than anything, max." then sealed it with a kiss.

-

the next morning you laid curled up with your boyfriend. he was spooning you, but his grip on you was firm. like he was worried about your running away from him.

he kept an arm around your middle and you idly played with the hairs on his arm as you were half-awake and half-asleep. your legs tangled up in his. his nose was in your hair as you laid there together.

he said in a sleep haze, "don't wear that sundress today. i'll give you something to wear. just put it back in the suitcase and don't wear it out of our home. i don't need them looking at you."

you replied, "i was thinking about throwing it out, the fabric is garbage if it shows that much when wet." then yawned loudly.

he replied, "no, no. i want to see it. no one else. just me." he said with a possessive edge to his voice. and curled up closer to you.

you chuckled lightly and turned in his arms. you kissed his face softly before you said, "fine. for your eyes only then." at least you didn't have to waste the garment! but you will be leaving a scathing review. <3

[ddejavvu]

Hi Mei 🧡

So I have indoor/outdoor cats. The girl cat (Cleo) is a prolific hunter so everytime she appears at the back door I playfully go “Oh my gosh there’s a serial killer at the door!” How do you think Hotch would react to his partner making that joke one night while letting their cat in?

Ps. I love You

i love you too!

--

You're not thinking things through when you go to let your cat inside, having forgotten that the phrase you typically croon at her isn't one that your murderer-hunter boyfriend might not like. But you gush anyways, "Oh, no! There's a serial killer at the door!"

The nickname comes from the plethora of dead critters you've been delivered by your cat, countless mice and spiders and even a few birds that she shouldn't have been able to get her paws on. But she comes empty-handed today, or, empty-mouthed, and darts inside once you slide the door open.

Aaron is at your side in an instant. He doesn't have his gun on him, it's locked away beyond the reach of very curious kitties. But he's got brute strength, and the tenacity of a bull.

"Move," He demands, shouldering his way in front of you. You let out a grunt of surprise, but not of pain; he hadn't bumped you too hard. He scans the backyard, then casts a wary glance back at you, "Where?"

"What?"

"You said there was a serial killer at the door," He snaps, metaphorical hackles raised, "Where?"

"Aaron," You gape, dumbfounded, "The- my cat. She brings me dead things. So- I... I call her a serial killer."

He stands stiff for only a moment more, then in a second, all of the tension drains from his muscles. He sags in relief, then slides the door shut and rounds on you.

"Terrible choice of words," He grumbles, but despite the furrow in his brow, you know he's not truly upset with you. He's almost sheepish, which is a rare sight to see, but an endearing one.

"I'm sorry," You bite your lips together, tucking them into your mouth and trying not to laugh at him, "Aaron, I'm sorry, I didn't- I wasn't thinking, I just say it all the time!"

"You're gonna send me into cardiac arrest before sixty." He glares, "You tease me about being old, but I'm not old enough to die."

"I'm sorry!" You insist again, giggling despite your best efforts, and leaning in to kiss sloppily against his downturned lips, "I won't do it again. Or- I probably will, that's a lie. But you'll get used to it."

"Oh, I will?" He quirks a brow, finally relenting and breathing out a shaky laugh through his sheepish grin. He takes hold of your hips, pinning them to his own as he drives his nose against yours, "I should just get used to thinking my girlfriend is about to get axe murdered?"

"Axe murdered," You scoff, but you gladly accept the kiss he presses to your lips, letting him lean you back slightly on your feet so that his shoulders are your lifeline. "If there was a real murderer at the door, I wouldn't talk to them in a baby voice, Aaron."

"I don't put anything past you," He narrows his eyes, but keeps his face pressed to yours, so really it looks like he narrows one giant eye in the middle of his face, "You talk to Jack in a baby voice, and he's seventeen."

[blueiscoool]

Ancient Assyrian Deity Statue Uncovered in Iraq

In a recent announcement from the The Iraqi State Board of Antiquities and Heritage (SBAH), archaeologists have successfully unearthed a remarkable ancient Assyrian deity statue known as a “lamassu” in Kursbad, Iraq.

A lamassu is a special Assyrian guardian deity, usually portrayed as a mix of human, bird, and either cow or lion features. These unique beings typically have a human-like head, a body resembling that of a bull or lion, and bird-like wings.

Guardian Lamassu sculptures in Assyria

In ancient Assyria, they often crafted pairs of lamassu sculptures and placed them at the entrances of palaces. These imposing figures faced both the streets and the inner courtyards.

What’s unique about these sculptures is that they were carved in high relief. When you look at them head-on, they seem still, but from the side, they appear to be in motion.

While we often see winged figures in the low-relief decorations inside rooms, lamassu were not commonly found as large figures in these spaces. However, they occasionally appeared in narrative reliefs. In these depictions, they seemed to take on the role of protectors for the Assyrians.

Ancient Assyrian deity statue in Iraq was discovered and then reburied

This discovery took place during their excavations at the 6th gate, situated in the western part of the ancient city of Khursbad.

Khursbad was originally built as a brand-new capital city by the Assyrian king Sargon II. He started this ambitious project shortly after he became king in 721 BC.

However, after Sargon II’s reign, his son and successor, Sennacherib, decided to shift the capital to Nineveh. This move left the construction of Khursbad unfinished, making it a fascinating historical puzzle.

As per the press release, the statue was originally discovered in 1992, when a team of Iraqi archaeologists stumbled upon the Assyrian deity statue. After the initial discovery of the lamassu, its head was unfortunately stolen in 1995. However, it was later recovered and is now safely preserved in the Iraqi Museum.

The main body of the Assyrian deity, was reburied to protect the statue and the surrounding architectural remains, a decision that likely saved it from destruction by ISIS, which systematically looted and destroyed the remains of Khursbad.

Collaboration between Iraqi and French archaeologists

In a remarkable collaborative effort between Iraqi and French archaeologists, Professor Dr. Ahmed Fakak Al-Badrani has spearheaded a mission that recently re-excavated the lamassu. This event marks the first time in thirty years that this ancient wonder has been unveiled to the world.

As stated by Dr. Layth Majid Hussein, the Chairman of the General Body for Archaeology and Heritage, the team is presently evaluating the condition of the lamassu to chart their forthcoming actions.

By Nisha Zahid.

[sp4rklyr0t]

Hey Aster! Could we get a guide on Ares please?

Ares, Greek God of Everything Kind and Sweet: A Guide

Just kidding, of course.

Hi! I'm Astin/Aster and this is my guide to Ares. A disclaimer before we begin, this is going to be bare-bones basic. I will not be going over any specific myths in the post. Hope this is helpful!

Ares is the god of war and thus peace, as appeasing him would thus prevent war, bloodshed and bloodlust, violence, anger/rage, manliness, rebellion. Something to note is that Ares is less of the strategy involved in war, and more of the actuality of it. He is not only a god of war but the personification of it.

His parents are Zeus and Hera, and his lover was Aphrodite. With Aphrodite, according to Hesiod's theogony, he has three children, Phobos (Terror), Deimos (Fear), and Harmonia (Harmony).

Sacred Symbols, Animals, and Epithets

His symbols are the spear, as well as armor, particularly the helm and shield.

His sacred animals were:

Serpents- he is frequently depicted with one and has myths regarding serpents.

Barn owl, eagle owl, and woodpecker, as shown:

Antoninus Liberalis, Metamorphoses 21 (trans. Celoria) (Greek mythographer C2nd A.D.) :

"Zeus loathed them [the giants Agrios and Oreios] and sent Hermes to punish them . . . But Ares, since the family of Polyphonte [mother of the giants] descended from him, snatched her sons from this fate. With the help of Hermes he changed them into birds. Polyphonte became a small owl whose voice is heard at night. She does not eat or drink and keeps her head turned down and the tips of her feet turned up. She is a portent of war and sedition for mankind. Oreios became an eagle owl, a bird that presages little good to anyone when it appears. Argios was changed into a vulture, the bird most detested by gods and men. These gods gave him an utter craving for human flesh and blood. Their female servant was changed into a woodpecker. As she was changing her shape she prayed to the gods not to become a bird evil for mankind. Hermes and Ares heard her prayer because she had by necessity done what her masters had ordered. This a bird of good omen for someone going hunting or to feasts."

He is also associated with horses, as his chariot is pulled by them.

Another notable animal are the bronze bulls, depicted as so:

Ovid, Heroides 12.39 ff : "The condition is imposed [by King Aeetes] that you [Jason] press the hard necks of the fierce bulls at the unaccustomed plow. To Mars [Ares] the bulls belonged, raging with more than mere horns, for their breathing was of terrible fire; of solid bronze were their feet, wrought round with bronze their nostrils, made black, too, by the blasts of their own breath."

Notable Epithets:

Thêritas - Beastly, brutish

Gynaikothoinas - Feasted by women

Enyalios - Warlike

Khrysopêlêx - Of the golden helm

Obrimos - Strong, mighty

Worship

His This section is going to be mainly UPG, so if you think of something else you'd like to do or give, please do so, as long as it is respectful.

Sacred Day:

Tuesday

Offerings:

Snake symbolism

Symbolism of His sacred birds

Spicy food 

Feathers from His sacred birds (sourced ethically)

Self defense weapons

Imagery of Him

Devotional Activities:

Workout or do physical activity

Go to a protest

Stand up for yourself and what you believe in 

Work on anger management 

Honor Aphrodite and their children together

Do something you're really passionate about

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Precocious 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, arranged marriage, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your family expects you to marry, but you don't expect to be happy.

This is part of the Three Sisters for Three Misters AU (this reader is know as Chicky)

Characters: Jonathan Pine

Note: And here we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Heart racing, breath like fire, air stolid as beads of sweat speckle your scalp. There is only the moment. Only one shot. This is it. You have your target in sight. You squint down the barrel of the rifle and narrow your focus. 

One, two-- 

Cheep, cheep, cheep-cheep-cheep. The melodic tweeting of birds sounds from your single airpod. You sigh and steady the gun. You press down on the earbud to dismiss the incoming call. You reset your shot and follow the unwitting target as they twist and turn, searching for their adversary. For you. 

You take the shot. Right between their shoulder blades. You smile at the splatter of yellow paint across their vest. They stagger and twirl around in disappointment. They harrumph and toss down their gun.  

“Ah damn it!” Mackenzie stomps his foot. “Bull shit.” 

You point the barrel in the sky as you emerge from your perch, “don’t be a sore loser, Mack.” 

“Whatever,” he pouts. 

The tweeting starts again. You reach to tap the bud, this time answering the call. You kick through the dirt as the other players disburse. Game’s over. Back to reality.

“Howdy,” you trill as check the canister on your gun. Almost a full round left. It’s not how much you shoot, it’s where. 

“Where are you?” Your mother snips.  

“Hm,” you raise your wrist as you sling the strap of your gun around your shoulder. You tug back your sleeve to check your fitbit. “I’m not late.” 

“What do you mean you’re not late? Where did you go?” 

“Mom, I’ll be there,” you huff. “With bells on.” 

“Oh, trust me. I will hunt you down,” she sneers. “You will be here in one hour. Dressed. Acceptably.” 

You roll your eyes. You prefer it when she can’t see it. You love her, you know she means best, but you’re an adult. You agreed to her demands so why is she so rude? 

“I will, mom. I’ll even put a bow on,” you giggle. “Anywho, time to claim my prize. Ta.” 

You hang up without waiting for her no doubt scathing retort. You stride up to turn in the gun and your helmet. The gloves and boots are your own and your trademark hot pink outfit is custom-made. You get a voucher for free round of play and another medallion claiming you as champion.  

Your mom chides you often, says it’s a child’s game. Well, if she insists on treating you as one, you may as well be one. You stop and chat with a few of your competitors, some of them regulars, others just out for a day of fun. The older men aren’t very talkative. Not even a congrats on your win. 

Oh well. You try not to let the unhappiness of men rule your world. If you did, you would never do anything at all. Besides, you’ve sacrificed enough. You promised your father you’d behave and that you would show up for dinner. Well, that’s just the beginning of the agreement. 

You strip off your canvas and jacket and change out of your dirty pink jeans. You pull on a pair of lululemon flares and a loose white tee, sheltered only by your car door. Your mother would be scandalised to see it. You cackle and shove everything in your trunk. 

You blast some 90s pop for the drive. It amps you up and wards off the dread of what awaits you at home. As you drive up to the gate of your family estate, you turn down the music. You stop your out-of-tune singing and push your shoulders back. This is the real battleground. 

You pull into the garage, parking in the empty spot between your father’s lexus and your mother’ cadillac. You keep your head down as you get out. You near the interior door and ease it open. You listen to the house. You hear the flurry of the kitchen staff and all those others brought in to prepare for dinner. 

Sigh, your whole life has been parading around for company. 

You peek through the east doorway of the kitchen. Your mother screeches as she demands that the dessert be redone. You duck across and hurry upstairs. 

You swing yourself into your room and sigh. You take out the dress hand-picked by your mother. She gave you options and you bartered something cute. She wasn’t happy about the length but the faux petals around the neckline convinced her. You just love that it’s pink! 

You drape the hanger from the handle of the drawer on your vanity and look in the mirror. You take out a face wipe and clean your face of the residue of sweat and dust. You wish you could have stayed for the afternoon matches but responsibility calls. 

You begin your usual process. Primer, concealer, foundation. As you blend, there’s a tapping at the door. You recognise the melodic rhythm. You whistle back and your eldest sister enters. She’s already done up, all but her lips. She wears a burgundy robe and matching slippers with pearls. 

“There you are,” Kestral says. “Mother’s been squawking all day.” 

You look at her in the mirror and shrug. She looks down her nose at you. She has the same imperious expression as your father. If you didn’t know better, you’d be scared. 

She laughs and puts her hands on her hips. “Please, let me do your hair so she doesn’t tear it out.” 

“If you want,” you shrug, not very bothered by the task. You’ll make do. 

“Oh,” Kestral nears, “that dress is so you.” 

She touches the fluttery portrait neckline. She’s a bit more sophisticated, a lot less flowery. You dab on some blush and smear it with your fingers until it looks natural. 

“What about Wren? She’s usually much more elusive than me?” You ask. 

“Oh, yes. She took her nose out of her book for five seconds to get the witch off her back,” she takes the wide toothed comb and starts from your ends. “Even after a lifetime, she can’t really accept that this is what we were born for. I worry for her but she locked her door.” 

“And probably climbed the window,” you snort. 

“Always the most clever of us,” Kestral agrees. She’s silent as she untangles your hair. “Are you nervous?” 

Her eyes meet yours in the mirror. You shrug and hold off on the eyeliner. You’ll let her figure out your hair before that. 

“Strangers, aren’t they? But mother and father were too.” 

“Mm, and look how well that turned out. I don’t think they’ve been alone together since right before you were born,” she scoffs. 

“Likely not. But... mother says the men are well-bred. Polite.” 

“Frigid,” Kestral grins. “You must read between the lines. That is how society talks. They never say the truth, the toe around it until it kicks you in the teeth.” She takes a pin and secures it in your hair. “I’ve asked around but people never talk about interesting things, do they?” 

“No, not really.” You make a face at her in the mirror, a clownish smile, “am I pretty, sister? Will mother approve of me?” 

She chortles and shakes her head, “oh, it will be quite the night, won’t it?” 

“Don’t act as if I will be the only menace. And I’m not so worried about mother, as she shouldn’t be of us. We have to impress these men, not her, right?” 

“Impress? Well, I shouldn’t need to try for that. He can win me over. Tradition and all,” she drones. 

The door clicks behind her and you both give a start. You turn as Wren stands against the door, her eyes wide and her hair as unwieldy as ever. So much as she tries to tame it, it has a will of its own. Despite her reticence, she is much the same. 

“I saw one,” she says. 

“Saw one?” You echo. 

She hushes you and comes forward. She’s in a plum sweater and linen pants. Her glasses are tangled in her hair and crooked. She has a book under her arm. 

“He’s tall. Blonde. Look,” she points to the window. You and Kestral share a look before you rise. You follow her to the window Wren remains by the vanity. 

“Oh, wow, isn’t that typical?” Kestral drawls, “an antique car. Well, Wren, you should hope he’s yours then. By the looks of it, he’ll spend more time with that beast than you.” 

She squeaks and flutters around behind you. She’s always been the softest spoken of you all. Reserved but willful. Most wouldn’t guess it, but she’s rather funny when she wants to be. 

“Mm, he has manners. He is chatting rather intently with Reginald.” 

“Yes, Reginald can be rather chatty,” Wren murmurs. Sometimes, she is too honest. 

“Well, Kes,” you turn away from the window and lean against the wall, “you said you asked around. What did you hear?” 

“Like I said, gossip is rarely useful,” she sighs and retreats. “Mine, Conrad... he’s not much history in ‘society’,” she emphasizes the last word with her fingers. “From what I’ve gathered, he comes from a well to do family. I heard more of his brother than him. Frustratingly mysterious.” 

She crosses her arms and sits on your bed, “then there’s Laufeyson, Wren’s match. He does have quite the reputation. A tricky man. I’m not entirely sure why mother and father chose him but no offense, Wrenny, you are a middle child.” 

“Mm, I’d say better than no one but no one sounds rather nice,” she mutters. 

You laugh. She really is so silly. 

“And me?” You prompt. 

“Pine. Proper gentleman by my measure. Never a toe out of line. No mystery, no scandal. He sounds like he was created in a factory.” 

“Boring?” You comment. 

“I wouldn’t expect any of them to be more than,” she examines the crimson tips of her manicure. “But we should try to pretend they are interesting.” 

“Forever,” you utter. 

“Forever...” she agrees dully. “So is our lot, yes? We must make the best of it. Get through tonight, then the wedding, and when all is said and done, we can still be us.” She leans back and crosses one leg over the other. “I’ll take Lottie with me. She’s a loyal stead and I’ll need something fun to ride.”  

She gives a wink and you giggle. Wren squeaks and rocks bashfully. 

“Wren, you can take all your books and add a thousand more to your shelves. You could build yourself a castle and lock yourself away to read forever,” she says, “and Chicky,” she looks at you, “you can just be you. Go out shooting or dancing or shopping. As long as our duty is met, we will be free. Truly. No more mother, no more father. We will laugh in their faces and say ‘no’.” 

“I hope you’re right,” you turn back to peer out the window. 

The blond man stands below. His brow suit is sleek and tailored. Even from there, you can tell it is cut of fine material. He looks up as you peer down and you think for a moment he sees you. You flinch and draw back behind the curtain, tugging it across the pane. 

“I do too,” Kestral agrees. “Think of it this way, we want out of this house. This is how we get out. Then we have our own titles, our own rights, and our husbands, well, they can have their own hobbies.” 

You nod and go back to the mirror. You sit and look at yourself. You want to believe Kestral. She’s never been an optimist but she’s just so desperate to get away, she’ll believe her own lies. You want to think this is an escape, yet you can only see things staying the same. You’ll still be putting on a mask. Still living to someone else’s standards. 

[officialabortive]

Bull hybrid! Bakugou

x

Cow hybrid! reader

Bull!Bakugou had been gone for about an hour now. You hadn't seen him since earlier this morning, when he was being loaded in to the trailer. He had made quite the scene, haphazardly swinging his horns and kicking at the group of farmers that tried to get him in.

Usually you would be trying your best to get to the blond, aiding him to the best of your abilities. But not this time. As much as it hurt to see him struggling against the farmhands, it was best to stay put. Even though your mind was screaming at you to go and comfort Katsuki, knowing he despised being taken to "that fucking hell hole" as he called it, it was for his own good.

Thinking about it now, you slightly regretted not doing anything to help. Not even attempting to be at his side in the moment. But there was no sense in wallowing in the past.

The day prior, you had overhead some of the farmhands talking amongst themselves as they put out the cattle feed. They were going back and forth on who should "it". You didn't know what "it" was and weren't exactly interested in finding out. That was until one of them said "com'on man! I dont want'a take bakugou to the vet, you know how difficult he is to deal with!" Now that caught your attention. Should you share the news? As much as you hated hiding things from your beloved herd member, you didn't want to rile him up with the information. He would find out soon enough anyway.

Now, after waiting so long, the truck and trailer had finaly returned. You hurried over as they slowly pulled in to the pasture, being careful not to let any cattle out in the process.

Violent banging was heard from inside the trailer, so aggressive that it visibly shook.

Bakugou waisted no time getting out once the door swung open at long last, instantly bolting out onto the open grass. You took long strides in attempt to catch up.

Something was off. Usually, he would head toward the area most of the herd grazed upon to make sure no incidents occurred in his absence. He didn't even seem to notice you so eagerly in his pursuit, when at any other time would be well aware of any presence in the vicinity.

Only once he gradually comes to a stop, does Katsuki notice you panting behind him. His next moves were swift. Instantaneously wrapping a firm arm around you to - albeit not so gently - pull you down with him as he sat, forcing you to sit on his lap. Now both arms firmly wrapped themselves around your torso, squeezing the skin beneath his fingers. With your back pressed against him, you could feel the movement of his chest as he let out a huff.

"Did something happen at the vet?"

another huff

Recognizing he didn't want too talk, you both stayed silent. Relishing in the gentle breeze that swayed tree branches rich with luscious leaves, the birds whistling out for one another, and the warmth radiating off of your favorite bull on to your back as you leaned in to him. It was peaceful, calming.

"Turn your ass around"

"What?"

"I said fucking turn around "

You shift positions to do as he said, needing to tilt your head up to look up at him.

Oh

Smack dab in the center of his scowling face was a pristine new silver nose ring. It sat snugly in his septum, looking rather small on such a big bull.

"Ohh Katsuki..."

Chosing not to acknowledge your words, he angrily grumbled while glaring at the ground. It wouldn't be suprising if the grass burst into flames right then and there at the heat of his gaze. But looking at the ground rendered him unable to see the adoring look on your face.

"You look so handsome! Oh Katsuk, it suits you so well, I love it"

He went still in his spot at your words, too many thoughts going through his head at once. What? You like it? Are you just saying that to make him feel better?

"Don't even try fuck with me damn it!"

Now it all made sense, why he was so upset. He was suddenly given a piercing he didn't want out of the blue and was insecure about it. Dare you say, he was embarrassed.

"No, I'm serious" he finaly looked you in the eye. "It's quite nice on you. It actually... well, it makes you look even more assertive, powerful."

The few words of affirmation went right to his head. It's amazing how fast someone could go from sulking to smug as hell. He now wore a cocky smirk and slightly puffed his chest in pride.

'He's such a child'

Masterlist

[wtftarot]

PAC: The World

We've come full circle and it's about fuckin time, right? Time for the end. The World is harmony and the end of a cycle. She is that moment when you remember that you are the universe, you are One with everything and you feel it in your bones. It is recognizing your place as a human on this planet. The World is an ending, the inevitable conclusion but he is also the herald of a new beginning. What do they want to tell you? Let's fuck around and find out

As always this reading is for entertainment purposes ONLY and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity. Remember, use common sense and don't be a dumbass.

Four groups today, you can pick The Bird (eagle?), The Lion, The Person, or The Bull and head on to your reading.

The Bird/Eagle

The Nine of Cups and The Nine of Wands on the bottom of the deck.

This is fuckin gorgeous for y'all. The cycle that's ending for y'all is one where y'all had to fight tooth and nail for everything you wanted. I'm seeing the end of the Lord of the Rings, where the eagles fly Frodo and Sam out of Mordor after they destroy the Ring. I don't remember if Frodo actually says it, but I'm hearing him say "It's done". Y'all have been dealing with a rough ass cycle, huh? For it to show up as the One Ring? There may be one last battle of sorts? Like a boss battle. This is my nerd group (affectionate), I'm getting a lot of fantasy imagery. Think of it as one last challenge so you can truly close this cycle once and for all. For some of y'all, this cycle has been a long and very internal one. Something that's been weighing you down, that you're finally letting fall from your shoulders. What I'm seeing is that this 'boss battle" is a choice of sorts. You've been growing and figuring your way out of this cycle and all at once you're faced with a choice. This cycle has been more internal and you may have not seen much externally about it. It's like this choice embodies the cycle externally and you have a physical/material choice to make. Continue this cycle? Or Step forward with growth? And it will be that clear to you. Again with the imagery, I'm seeing a game screen with a choice. This path is unknown, keep going? Press X: Keep going. Press Y: Turn Around. Listen, I'm not much of a gamer like at all, so I don't know if that's a thing that happens in games? The last game I played was like three years ago?? So, the fact I keep getting gaming imagery means I'm really tapped into some of y'all's guides. Ok, the guide that's doing a lot of this is practically screaming in my ear to yell at y'all TO PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR DREAMS. FOR FUCKS SAKE. If you're into gaming and have been playing a game that's set in the woods, that message goes double. Don't ask me, I just work here. Now the cycle y'all are stepping into? Fucking beautiful, ok? Y'all are gonna be getting a lot of shit you have been wishing and crossing your fingers for. I'm hearing/seeing "yes, those too" and imagery of a belt and other accessories? This group is loud and I love it. Yea, even the "little things" you've wanted that aren't high on the priority list will be coming your way soon. And y'all are going to be rightfully smug about it. I think some of the blessings coming your way were things that people around you have tried to dismiss or downplay or talk you out of, so yeah you can be a lil bit smug about it. You've earned it. The past lil bit for y'all has probably felt very stale and stagnant but now that it's closing, things are going to be moving and improving. It may jolt y'all a bit at first. Cause this energy is so fucking different from where you've been, that even just dipping your toes in it will be a shock. It will be a welcome shock though, refreshing. The way this will manifest will be different for all y'all, but one thing's for sure, y'all are gonna fuckin run with it. After that initial choice, falling into this new chapter will be the easiest thing in the world.

random ass vibes: video games, d&d, 999, leaning into a new clothing style, fish, moon cycles, someone have a moon tattoo? birthday cake, HAPPY BIRTHDAY?

The Lion

The Moon and The Tower on the bottom of the deck.

Ok, you need to take a break. Full stop. Even if it's just ten minutes of sitting in nothing and silence. Your brain needs a rest from everything. I feel like y'all need to be told that yes, this thing does need to end. The cycle you're in may have become your comfort zone and you feel safe repeating it cause you know what to expect. It does have to end though. Y'all may have some idea that this ending is coming but you don't know just how much things will change when it does. This may be about a belief about the world or yourself that's really holding you back. Once clarity comes, you won't fit in the same places, with the same groups you used to. I don't blame you for resisting this, it can be terrifying to start questioning belief systems or old worldviews. Some of y'all may be questioning the religion or politics you were brought up in. It could be an understanding of who you are vs who others want you to be. Y'all are feeling a bit overwhelmed and confused as to what all this means. Sweetie, that's okay. This IS confusing and overwhelming. It is hard and scary and can leave you feeling very vulnerable. Babe, you need to stop pushing yourselves to have all the answers already. This one takes time and it's okay to let it. That's probably why the message I got for y'all before I even pulled the cards was for y'all to take a break. Not only that, but you don't have to tell anyone about this. Yes, if you can find some safe support through these periods of life do it, but you don't owe anyone what you're going through. Y'all are putting soo much pressure on yourselves to know everything already, to have all the answers. To know every aspect of who you are and what you believe. Wanna know something terrifyingly liberating? You never will. You will never know every single aspect of yourself cause you're always growing and changing. Same with your beliefs, you're always learning new things about how the world works, so your beliefs will always be shifting, even slightly. This is all coming from The World card cause y'all, more than anything need to let yourselves just BE. Be in the moment, stop interrogating them as if all the answers will be found there. The answers you're seeking will come in time and letting yourself live. I know the world we live in pretty much demands you have everything figured out at all times but that's bullshit. It's okay to change your mind.

random ass vibes: small-town vibes, doves or white birds, 919, the goth kid at the family reunion, lightning, trees, dragons, red clothes. nature vs nurture.

The Person

The Sun and The Hermit Rx on the bottom of the deck

Y'all it's time to come out of hiding. You've been hiding your truth for a WHILE. lol I'm hearing that lil Sunday school song: "Don't hide your light under a bushel, NO!" ( I grew up in the bible-belt, don't judge). That's a song for little kids if y'all don't know it, you don't have to look it up. It's telling me though that y'all have been hiding your light, so to speak, since you were a little, little kid. Like four-ish years old. Now, I don't know y'all's situation, it may not be safe for y'all to be fully yourself, and cause it seems like y'all have been hiding your whole damn life that's probably the case. So, BE FUCKING SAFE, okay? Because you're at this reading though, there are probably some ways you're hiding yourself that you don't have to. It's like y'all have just been letting people decide who you are when you're around them? Y'all are wearing other's projections of you like masks. I'm hearing "too much". Ooh boy, y'all listen, this group feels like I'm talking to my younger self. I cannot tell y'all the number of times I was told I was "too much", too loud, too quiet, too stubborn, too whatever. Unless y'all are being too cruel, too bigoted or whatever, y'all have a place here okay? Y'all seem to have taken being told you're too X, or not Y enough to heart and have whittled yourself down piece by piece cause that's what the people around you want. Y'all are like the fucking sun and everyone is demanding you be a candle. I think it's people you care about telling you this too. And because you care about them, you want them to be happy and comfortable. So, of course, you can be a little smaller, whatever they need, right? Now though, you've been doing this so long, you've lost yourself a bit, haven't you? The World is telling you it's time to call those parts of yourself back. Dig up those parts of yourself that you've buried. You can start as small as you feel you need to. It may be hard and confusing at first but soon it will be as natural as breathing. If you're not even sure where to start or have forgotten those parts, ask your guides and the universe for help. Ask for signs and to be put in situations that bring out those buried parts of you. You may have outgrown some of them and that's okay. Just prepare yourself, it won't be easy. Ya know that tingling feeling when your leg has been asleep and it's waking up? I feel that even though my leg has been fine this whole time. So it will probably be uncomfortable too. You should probably expect some hard reactions from the people around you too, especially if they've only known you as the you you've pretended to be for them. But that home you've been looking for? Felt calling? That can only be built by you being your authentic self. Otherwise, it'll just be another place where you have to wear a mask to be welcome. I wish I could end this one on a lighter note for y'all. This isn't an easy one. Take some alone time and please, take care of yourself through this. Whether you realize it or not, you are working through something really difficult and need to go easy on yourself through this.

random ass vibes: Halloween, candy, ghosts, 11:11, turtles, alligators, Frankenstein's monster, Venus, halos or angels?

The Bull

The Page of Pentacles and the Eight of Swords with the Empress on the back of the deck.

Y'all have so much fuckin potential, okay? Y'all are doubting yourselves so fuckin hard and The Universe and your Guides are sick of it. We all know someone who's amazingly talented but is so fuckin hard on themselves about it, to the point where you just want to grab em by the shoulders and shake them screaming YOU ARE WONDERFUL AND TALENTED. That's how your guides are feeling about you, all the damn time. I'm serious. I was only taking One card and the bottom of the deck for each group but the Eight of Swords came out too for y'all. Y'all are stuck in your head, questioning your every goddamn move and wondering why you're exhausted and never seem to move forward. This reading's tone is much more direct, like fed up snap the fuck out of its energy. Not that your guides are fed up with you, just fed up with your self-doubting bullshit. I'm hearing "..but they'll think I'm x" So, you may feel like if you truly lean into your potential and fail, people will have shit to say. Sweetie, they will and they will if you succeed and they will if you never do jack-shit. One of the few guarantees in life is that people will talk shit no matter what you do. The only control you have is why they're talking shit. Would you rather them talk shit about you cause you went after what you want, win or lose? Or because you never went after what you wanted, which is exactly what they wanted. The cycle that needs to end for you is one you have to end. End the cycle of shitting on yourself just cause you may not be where you want to be. End the doubt of your own capabilities. You really have NO CLUE how fucking amazing your life will get the second you start questioning those shitty thoughts. Like just questioning them, not even fully disbelieving them yet. Just questioning them will do fuckin wonders for you. If you're a beginner let yourself BE a beginner. If you want to try something new but are afraid of being a beginner then say fuck it and fuck you to those thoughts and start anyway. Hell, you don't have to tell anyone you're starting at first. You have the potential to be a whole-ass fuckin meadow and are doubting and even criticizing yourself for having to start as a handful of seeds. This is you're pep talk, in case you haven't figured that out yet. One other thing, some of y'all may be fearing the work that'll come with believing yourself, that it'll be tiring and all that. It's gonna be the opposite, sweetie. I mean, yeah it'll be work. But it's gonna be energizing. Do you know how much energy you've been hemorrhaging by shoving down allllllll that potential constantly? All of that will be freed up in a second and spent on fun shit. I believe in ya, babe.

Random ass vibes: thrifting, rainbows, makeup, cinnamon, puppets, purple, birds, card games, heart tattoos.

[sassenach77yle]

7x14 “Ye Dinna Get Used To It”

If you want to return to Philadelphia—” “No!” Her terror at the thought was clear now. She pulled desperately at her hand, but he wouldn’t let go. “Is it because of Captain Harkness? Because—” She gave a cry that might have come from the throat of a wild bird caught in a trap, and he tightened his grip on her wrist. It was fine-boned and slender, but she was surprisingly strong. “I know you stole the gorget back” he said. ��It’s all right. No one’s going to find out. And Harkness won’t touch you again; I promise you that.” She made a small bubbling noise that might have been a laugh or a sob.

“Colonel Tarleton—you know, the green dragoon that made advances to you?—he told me that Harkness was absent without leave, hasn’t come back to his regiment. Do you know anything about that?”

“No,” she said. “Let me go. Please!” Before he could answer this, a small, clear voice piped up from the trees a few yards away.

“You’d best tew him, Janie.”

“Fanny!” Jane swung round toward her sister, momentarily forgetting that she was pinioned. “Don’t!”

Fanny stepped out of the shadows, wary but curiously composed.

“If you don’t, I wiw,” she said, her big brown eyes fixed on William’s face. “He won’t thtop.” She came a little closer, cautious but not afraid. “If I tew you,” she said, “do you pwomise not to take us back?”

“Back where?” “To Phiwadelphia,” she said. “Or the army.”

He sighed, exasperated, but short of torturing the answer out of one of the girls, clearly no progress would be made unless he agreed. And he was beginning to have a cold feeling under the ribs about just what the answer might be. “I promise,” he said, but Fanny hung back, distrustful. “Sweaw,” she said, folding her arms. “Sw—oh. Bloody hell. All right, then—I swear on my honor.” Jane made a small, dreary noise that was still a laugh. That stung. “Do you think I haven’t got any?” he demanded, turning on her. “How would I know?” she countered, sticking out her chin. It wobbled, but she stuck it out. “What does honor look like?”For your sake, you’d better hope it looks a lot like me,” he told her, but then turned to Fanny. “What do you want me to swear on?” “Your mudder’s head,” she said promptly. “My mother’s dead.” “Your favver, den.” He drew a long, deep breath. Which one? “I swear on my father’s head,” he said evenly. And so they told him.

“I KNEW HE’D come back,” Jane said. She was sitting on the log, hands clasped between her thighs and eyes on her feet. “They always do. The bad ones.”

She spoke with a sort of dull resignation, but her lips tightened at the memory. “They can’t stand to think you’ve got away without . . . without. I thought it would be me, though.”

Fanny was sitting beside her sister, as close as she could get, and now she put her arms around Jane and hugged her, her face in Jane’s calico shoulder. I’m sowwy,” she whispered.

“I know, lovie,” Jane said, and patted Fanny’s leg. A fierce look came into her face, though. “It’s not your fault, and don’t ever—ever—think so.” William’s throat felt thick with disgust at the thought.

That beautiful, flower-faced little girl, taken by—“Her maidenhead’s worth ten pound,” Jane reminded him. “Mrs. Abbott was saving her, waiting for a rich man with a taste for new-hatched chicks. Captain Harkness offered her twenty.” She looked directly at William for the first time. “I wasn’t having that,” she said simply. “So I asked Mrs. Abbott to send us up together; I said I could help keep Fanny from making a fuss. I knew what he was like, see,” she said, and pressed her lips involuntarily together for an instant. “He wasn’t the sort to plow you like a bull and have it done. He’d play with you, making you undress a bit at a time and—and do things—while he told you all about what he meant to do.”

And so it had been easy to come behind him while he was watching Fanny, with the knife she’d taken from the kitchen hidden in the folds of her petticoats.“I meant to stab him in the back,” she said, looking down again. “I saw a man stabbed that way once. But he saw on Fanny’s face what I—it wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t help it showing,” she added quickly.

“But he turned round quick and there wasn’t any choice.”

She’d plunged the knife into Harkness’s throat and wrenched it free, intending to stab again. But that hadn’t been necessary. “There was blood everywhere.” She’d gone pale in the telling, her hands wrapped in her apron.

“I frew up,” Fanny added matter-of-factly. “It was a mess.”I expect it was,” William said dryly. He was trying not to envision the scene—the candlelight, the spraying blood, the panicked girls—with remarkably little success. “How did you get away?” Jane shrugged. “It was my room, and he’d bolted the door. And nobody was surprised when Fanny started screaming,” she added, with a trace of bitterness. There was a basin and pitcher of water, the usual rags for mess; they’d washed themselves hastily, changed clothes, and climbed out the window. “We found a ride on a farmer’s wagon, and . . . you know the rest.” She closed her eyes for a moment, as though reliving “the rest,” and then opened them and looked up at him, her gaze dark as shadowed water. “Now what?” she asked. WILLIAM HAD BEEN asking himself that question for the last several moments of Jane’s story. Having met Harkness himself, he had considerable sympathy for Jane’s action, but— “You planned it,” he said, giving her a sharp look. Her head was bent, her unbound hair hiding her face. “You took the knife, you had clothes to change into, you knew how to get down from the window and get away.” “Tho?” said Fanny, in a remarkably cold voice for a girl of her age. “So why kill him?” he asked, transferring his attention to Fanny, but keeping a wary eye on Jane. “You were going to leave anyway. Why not just escape before he came?” Jane raised her head and turned it, looking him directly in the eye.

“I wanted to k*ll him,” she said, in a perfectly reasonable voice that chilled him despite the warmth of the day.

“I . . . see.”

He saw more than the vision of Jane, with her delicate white wrists, plunging a knife into Captain Harkness’s thick red throat while her little sister screamed...

89 ONE DAY, COCK OF THE WALK—NEXT DAY, A FEATHER DUSTER~WRITTEN IN MY OWN HEART'S BLOOD

[curiouscatalog]

More marbling today. It's been a very marbled week over here.

From: Weisse, Franz. The Art of Marbling. North Hills, Pa : Bird & Bull Press, 1980.

Z271.3.M37 W45 1980

[heartfullofleeches]

Hello pardon me just passing through but I just imagined Peach and BlackBerry arguing while reader is watching all stressed out and the normal milk character just whisks them away promising comfort

Tfw when you're just a cute little farmer trying to get your neighbors with fat crushes on you to get along, but the only thing they have on common besides their obsession with you is that they'd kill each other as soon as you turn your back- [I have so many pretty cow ladies oml]

-

"What are you doing here?

"I could ask you the same thing."

This wasn't going well. You hoped they'd at least make out it to the field before they started picking fights. Both were well aware that the other would be here - you told them so in the invitation. They most likely overlooked that tidbit in favor of spending time with you. If only their mutual interest in you led to a more positive connection.

Peach scoffs. "I'm here because my babe asked me to help them out. You think I'd be out here in these shoes for any other reason? I'm more ssurprised to see you out of your coffin so early in the day."

"Like you won't be gone the second you get a little dirt under your nails. You're so clingy can't you just let them have a single moment with someone else without you hovering over them?"

"Nope. If I did that - you might actually think you have a chance with them."

What could've possibly made this seem like a good idea? You thought you'd be killing two birds with one stone by inviting them out to the farm - seeking to help qwell their rivalry by asking them to help you with your last bit of chores. You requested their assistance with picking crops as it was one of few tasks Peach would do without complaining and the harvest would make for a well deserved reward for their efforts. It was a perfect plan in theory. Execution was another story.....

Good thing you invited others to join you.

"Farmer!"

A pair of strong arms pluck you off your feet and against the chest of the bull woman who's heart pounded loudly in her chest from her race from her truck to you. Oil rubs off on your shirt and sticks to your skin as she presses you tightly to her - tail smacking your tight as another, quieter pair of footsteps approach from the direction she came. A gloved hand taps her shoulder - gentle eyes gazing over her shoulder at you with fondness.

"Good afternoon, Farmer. We would have came sooner, but this one refused to shower before leaving her shop. I had to take her keys just to get her into the bathroom, and yet she's still a mess. At least the chance of a grease fire has been reduced.

"Ah, I keep tellin' ya it's a waste of time. We could've spent the whole morning with them if you hadn't forced me to wash up.

An unlikely pair these two made - a prim and proper maid, and the grease junkie king of the local junkyard. Ginger lived for creating messes, and Milk enjoyed cleaning them up. Their union was uncommon, but they could safety call one another allies especially when it came to you.

"Ginger! Milk! I'm so glad you guys could make it, thank you so much for coming."

"It's our pleasure..." Milk looks past you, pointing at the two still bickering at your doorstep. "Will those two be joining us?"

You glance back at Peach and Blackberry.

"You must think you're sooo perfect. Won't have that pretty face to hide behind when I skin it off you."

"Was that a threat? Are you threatening me? So you know how many chances I've had to get rid of you? You're lucky I even let you step foot on their property."

"You're lucky I let you breathe the same air as us."

You quickly turn away as Peach screams in frustration"I don't think so...."

Ginger chuckles - her hands falling to your waist and locking on. "More for us then. Let's get this show on the road."

"Wha- Hey!" Laughter bursts from your chest as Ginger scoops you up and throws you onto her shoulder - wrapping her thick arms around your legs to keep you in place. Milk picks up the basket you brought out with you and follows behind the two of you as Ginger matches towards the field. The maid places her hand on your back to keep you stable as the mechanic pumps her fist in the air in celebration. Your smiling face as you're carried off is captured by the two left alone on your porch who briefly paused their argument to gain your input on the issue at hand. They look at each other, then Ginger's truck.

"...... Twelve o'clock. I'll slash the tires if you break the windows."

"Deal."

[uwmspeccoll]

Marbled Monday

This is one of our most marble-ous books because of all the great samples of marbling it includes! This is The Art of Marbling by German marbling master Franz Weisse, translated by rare book curator, collector, and marbling expert Richard J. Wolfe. This translation of Weisse's original 1940 text was published by Bird & Bull Press in 1980. The original edition of Weisse's Die Kunst des Marmorierens... was reportedly largely destroyed by bombing during WWII and is extremely rare. The Bird & Bull publication includes a lengthy introduction by Wolfe that surveys 300 years of German marbling and Weisse's place in it.

This edition also includes 14 samples of marbled paper made by Wolfe, who also marbled the cover paper for the edition. These samples include patterns created using a needle (or stylus), fantasy marbling, and overmarbling. The cover paper is also an example of overmarbling, in which paper is marbled once and then another pattern is made on top of the first.

The Art of Marbling was published in an edition of 300 copies on Green's hand made Bird and Bull paper. It was composed using Van Dijck types by Mackenzie-Harris Corp., with binding by E.G. Parrot.

View more Marbled Monday posts.

-- Alice, Special Collections Department Manager

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Hello

I want to see cowboy reader get captured and hurt by unsub and JJ worried because those two seem to have chemistry

Description: Cowboy reader's father visits, things don't go too well...

Warnings: abuse, abusive parents, abduction, claustrophobia, judgy nurse, hospital visits, child abuse mentions

A/N: I'm panicking that this feels rushed but equally, I started writing this on the 15th of May so it can't be that rushed can it? Lmao (Also I'm so sorry it's taken this long). Posting this before I can doubt myself some more :))

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84 @goth-boi-atlas @iliketozoneout

You and Spencer stood in front of the geographical profile, to be honest, Spencer was doing most of the work, you were watching the wheels in his brain tick. Since meeting the young doctor, you had almost been in awe of his intelligence and the way his brain worked (and you couldn’t help but want to protect him from the world). 

This precinct was set out slightly different to the others you had been to, this station’s conference room had no windows, purely lit by shitty lights that were screwed into the ceiling. The only way you were able to read in this room was if you also switched on a bright light that was a lot less warm-toned to actually see. 

"(Y/N)?" You snapped out of your train of thought, turning to the voice, it feeling vaguely familiar. 

"Yes?" When you turn to him, you instantly know who it is but you force your face to stay neutral.

"You don't remember me." He manages to look somewhat defeated, you'll give him that. 

"No, I remember you." You said, folding your arms, "You just don't mean anything to me." 

"And why’s that?" 

"You're not worth my energy." 

He places a hand on his heart, "You wound me, son." 

"Shame." You answer, you turn to Spencer, "Can you go get Hotch?" 

Spencer looks at the scene hesitantly, not wanting to leave you alone with the man. Especially if he is your father. "It's okay, Spence." You reassured with a tight smile. 

"Yeah, it's alright, Spence." Your father says as he takes a step towards Spencer. 

When your father takes a step closer to Spencer, before you know it, you have him pinned against the wall. "Don't you even fuckin' dare stand near him." You growl, "I don't care how much you think you've changed, come near him, I'll break you." 

Chuckling, despite his head pressed against the wall, your father turns his head to look at Spencer. "I have changed." 

"Bull. Shit." You force the words out of your mouth, anger flowing through your blood. "Spencer, go get Hotch." You wanted Hotch here for a multitude of reasons. The main three being:

Make sure you don't nearly kill him

Make sure he doesn't nearly kill you

Make sure Spencer is safe 

As soon as he's gone, your father's demeanour shifts and he smirks, "I thought we'd never be alone,"

And with that, he manoeuvers himself and slams your head into the wall, knocking you unconscious. 

When Hotch and Spencer ran back into the room, three minutes later, you were nowhere to be seen. 

You didn't know how long it had been, just that it must have been ages - at least four days. You had been there for ages, in the dark, a closet to be specific. And everywhere hurt - so, so much. Your father had been in multiple times and it was like you were twelve years old again, stuck at home with a monster with no one to save you. Except you knew that you had people in the outside world that actually cared about you (your team).

Each time your father visited you, dragging you out of the closet and throwing you to the floor, he inflicted a different pain that reminded you of your childhood while he hurled insults in your direction. It had been a while since his last visit - a few hours, perhaps - and, to your dismay, you were beginning to worry whether he would come back.

"This ain't creepy at all," You muttered to yourself, perhaps if you closed your eyes and simply pretended you were at home that would help.

You leant against the back of the closet, trying your best to get comfortable. You closed your eyes, picturing your bed at your Mama's house. Everything was okay. "You- You're fine," You mumbled to yourself, clutching your arm tight to your chest, trying to stabilise your shoulder. It had been dislocated on your first day here (wherever here was).

Everything ached heavily, throbbing in beat with your heart. Between the cuts, scratches, and burns, you felt like you couldn't take a full breath. It was dark and you couldn't see. You didn't know who was there, if anyone was really there. God you hated the dark. And it was cold, so very, very cold, you knew there was no way that you had lost enough blood to make it so. You knew that the only way in which it was so cold was that bastard had made sure there was no way heat could get into the room (assuming there wasn't a thermostat).

The beat of your heart filled your ears, mixed with the roaring that was occupying your ear drums. All with such force and such volume that you don't hear the gunshot in the background.

"Everythin's fine, you're gonna get out of this. Team'll find you. It's fine. It's fine-" Your feeble attempt at self-reassurance died in the back of your throat when you heard the familiar unlocking of the closet doors. You curled into yourself further, not looking up when the doors creaked open.

"(Y/N)?" JJ approaches you slowly, and you stare at her, trying to figure out if you've finally gone crazy or if she's really here. God, you hoped it was the latter. You couldn’t help but notice that the air around her seemed slightly brighter.

"JJ?" You wince, not only from the pain it caused in your throat and chest to speak, but by how utterly defeated you sounded.

"I'm here," She answers, "We're all here." With that, there was a small click and light flooded into your room. You winced, quickly ducking your head down and squeezing your eyes shut. When your eyes had adjusted, you opened them, forcing yourself to stand. 

The team's eyes widened at the sight of you, covered in blood and dirt, stripped of your shirt and socks. When you finally looked up, you curled into yourself slightly, trying to ignore the damage. 

You took a breath, "What about-?"

"He's dead." She answers and your shoulders deflate. They did come for you. He was wrong. Of course they would come for you.

"Who- Who shot him?" You asked hesitantly.

"I did," Morgan replied, frowning slightly. No matter what the man had done, he was still technically your biological father. You stumbled over to him, wincing and limping as you did so.

"Thank you," You mumbled, collapsing into a hug when you finally reached him. 

”How about we get you sit down?” Morgan asks gently as Prentiss places a seat next to you. Despite you protesting that you were fine, Morgan helps ease you into the chair while Hotch calls the paramedics to check how far out they were. 

When the paramedics arrived, they were quick to transfer you onto a gurney and then into the ambulance - the team keeping close. 

“Do you want us to call your emergency contact?” The paramedic asked and you shook your head.

“No, no thank you,” You mumbled, giving her a small smile. 

“Are you sure-?”

You nodded, “She, er, she’s already here,” You don’t notice Morgan shoot JJ a knowing smile - who responds with an eye roll and shaking her head.

“Okay, just so we know, who is it?”

“Oh, er, JJ,” You said, nodding to her, “The blonde haired lady,”

The paramedic takes a note of this, jotting it down on your form. “Thank you,”  

When you get to the hospital, you’re settled into a rather uncomfortable hospital bed (but you know better than to complain). They start by giving you pain killers and treating your major wounds - the burns along your side and chest, a variety of deepish cuts along your arms and torso, and finally checking your ribs and collarbone for fractures. You had tried telling them you were fine, but they weren’t having it - especially when they poked it and you cried out in pain.

"We need to take you upstairs," The nurse said, "We need to do an x-ray."

"Upstairs?"

"Yes, the x-ray department is on the fourth floor," The nurse said and you drew in a deep breath. "We need to transfer you into a wheelchair."

Eventually, you were out of your room, trying desperately not to think about the elevator. Being trapped in a small metal box.

"No, I- I'll take the stairs." You mumble, shaking your head as you approach the lift. Not now. You can do this right now. You begin to stand when a hand is placed on your shoulder, instantly making you feel relaxed. You know its her without even having to look.

"You know you can't take the stairs right now," She responds quietly.

"JJ, I'm fine." You answer, grinding your jaw. You did not want to go in that lift under any circumstances.

"It's the only way to get there."

"Then I won't go,"

"You need to get an x-ray,"

"Don't need to."

"What would help you feel safer?" Her voice is soft, calming.

"You." Your answer is instant, that's not the embarrassing part though. The embarrassing part would be asking to hold her hand. The embarrassing part would be asking if Hotch or Morgan could also come with. You knew that they wouldn't let anything happen to either you or JJ - and they were physically healthy and therefore actually able to protect both you and her (normally you wouldn't have a problem with protecting the pair of you if needed, but you were currently slightly incapacitated).

"What's the other thing?" Damn, she can read you like a book.

You swallow, frowning slightly as you flush red and look down at your hands, watching them tremble for a moment, "H-Hotch or Morgan?"

JJ nods in understanding, gently rubbing her hand along your arm. "Does it matter which one?" When you shake your head, she turns to the nurse, "Can you get Agent Hotchner or Agent Morgan please?"

"For an elevator?" You frown, staring at your hands more intently as your face grows hot, watching as they continue to shake from adrenaline at the idea of being in a lift right now.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying, he's a grown man, he can ride an elevator-"

You can sense the anger radiating off the blonde so you shake your head, "JJ it's fine..." You mumbled, "Let's just go n get it over with."

"No. You'd feel more comfortable with Hotch or Morgan here, so we're going to make sure that one of them are here." She says strongly, not breaking eye contact with the nurse. "So, can you get Agent Hotchner or Agent Morgan. And another nurse."

The nurse stares blankly at her for a moment before nodding and walking off. "Are you alright?" JJ asks softly and you give a small nod, hands continuing to shake. Seeing this she slowly reached down, lightly taking your left hand in her right.

"I-I'm sorry," You mutter before your tone turns bitter. "I shouldn't be feelin' like this. It's just an elevator."

"(Y/N)," You look up at her, "You've been through something most people can't even imagine. You're okay to feel shaken by that."

"M an adult." You said, trying to ignore your eyes began to feel the familiar sting of tears. "I shouldn't be-"

"I'm scared of dogs." JJ said. "I- Spencer was taken by an unsub years ago and his dogs attacked me and now, I'm afraid of dogs. Is that unreasonable? I'm an adult."

"That's different."

"Why? Because I'm a woman?"

"Wha-? No. Because you went through a traumatic experience."

"And this wasn't traumatic?"

"No! This was my childhood! I got over it! I should be fine with this! I shouldn't be here shakin' like a leaf over somethin' I must have gone through a hundred times!" You exclaim, "I should be able to get in an elevator without vibratin' so hard I’m creatin' my very own massage chair!"

"You're allowed to feel this way," JJ says gently as she crouches in front of you. "It's okay to acknowledge things that scare you. And doing this? Getting in an elevator shows how strong you are. Even if it's with two friends."

"Is everything okay?" JJ looks up at Hotch, who let's his gaze settle on your form - he can't see much, but he watches as you lift a trembling hand to your face, presumably to massage your temples. JJ says nothing, unsure of how much you want her to say, so you take the lead.

"I don't wanna go in." You mutter. "I wanna take the stairs."

Hotch had never heard you sound so small. "I get that," Ensuring that his voice is calming, he continues, "But we both know you can't make it up all those stairs right now."

"Its- I feel like 'm trapped and 'm not even inside yet."

"We'll be here the whole time," Hotch adds and you nod.

"Is the other nurse here?"

"Yep," Another voice chimes, "I'm Nurse Maddison."

"Hi," You whisper. "I-I'm not normally like this," You mumble, this was slightly mortifying to say the least.

"That's alright," She replies, "We've all got our fears. I find it difficult to go on public transport - I'm scared of a lack of control."

"I-I'm scared if I get in the lift, I won't be able to get out." You admit. "I'm scared the lights will flicker, n I'll wake up, n I'll still be there. Or worse, the lights will go out n he'll be here."

"Who?" Nurse Maddeline furrows her eyebrows when you don't answer.

"I just really don't want this to be a dream," You whisper.

JJ squeezes your hand lightly, "I promise you, this is real."

"We're here, (Y/N). You're safe. You're with us."

You sat, taking deep breaths outside the elevator for a minute or so. Just catching your breath.

"Are you ready to get in?" She asks. Despite the question, her voice is full of understanding. "We don't have to push any buttons yet, and I can stand in the way of the doors until you're ready."

"Can- Can we do that one? With you in the doors?"

"Of course!" Nurse Maddison gives a small smile before pressing the call button for the elevator.

When she wheels you into the elevator, you forget how to breathe. Shaking your head quickly, you find Hotch and JJ (which is easy as Nurse Maddison placed the wheelchair so that you could see both of your colleagues), "I was wrong, I can't do this-"

"(Y/N), look at me," JJ speaks this time, "You're okay, it's okay."

You shake your head, "No, no, I can't-"

"I need you to calm down for me, okay?" Nurse Maddison says.

"No! No, I can't- I can't do this!" You bow your head, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands.

"(Y/N)." Hotch's voice is stern and makes you look up, "You can do this. I know you think you can't, but you can."

"Do you trust us?" JJ asks and you nod. Because you do. You trust the pair of them with your life. "Then close your eyes." You look at her for a moment before doing as she says, letting your eyes flutter shut. There's a warmth that floods through your body as she takes your hand again and you grip it lightly.

When the doors close, your grip on JJ's hand tightens and your eyes shoot open. "It's alright," Hotch is quick to reassure as JJ rubs soothing circles on your hand. "It won't be long before we reach the floor we need."

"No, no, Hotch, I need out-" You shake your head, desperately trying to get your breathing under control. "Hotch I need out, I can't breathe-"

"(Y/N), look at me." JJ's voice drew your eyes away from Hotch. "You're okay."

"No-"

"Yes you are, you're okay." She says softly, gently squeezing your hand in hers, "We're nearly there."

You pushed the palm of your hand into your eye, trying to force the tears back. "Not a coward." You muttered bitterly to yourself, not caring if the others could hear. You needed to get yourself through this ride without having a panic attack (and it was close). "Not a coward. Not a coward." You mumble the phrase, over and over. Intent on repeating it until you believe it. Of course, before that could happen, there was the familiar ping of an elevator door and your head shot up as they opened.

"Can we get out now?" You asked, looking up, "Please?"

Both Hotch and JJ give you a reassuring smile as Nurse Madeline gently pushes the wheelchair out of the elevator. 

JJ leans forward, so only you can hear her as she whispers, “See, I told you you could do it,” 

The x-ray went relatively smoothly, except for finding out you had three broken ribs and had broken your clavicle. You were also a lot calmer on the way down (still with both Hotch and JJ), feeling relatively calm (in comparison) when they wheeled you back into your room. 

The team immediately greeted you with smiles as you entered your room, Garcia standing up from your bed (where she may or may not have laid down on it).

“So, what’s the verdict, cowboy?” Morgan asked. 

“Um, three broken ribs and clavicle.”

“Clavicle?” Garcia asked.

“Collarbone,” Spencer added. 

“Does that mean no baking for a little while?” Both you and Garcia asked, turning to Hotch (who had to fight off a smile).

“Probably.”

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 15 : Attack on Heaven

It's time for Azure's plan, everything doesn't go as planned though, and things get messy.

For the first time since he agreed to Azure’s plan, Sun Wukong was having doubts. It didn't happen often. He didn't let himself be prey to doubts. He knew attacking Heaven was dangerous but he was confident in his abilities. Yet when he dived in Macaque's worried gaze, he couldn't help but feel his heart throb with pain. Macaque shouldn't look this worried, this resigned, happiness suited him better. He looked breathtaking when he was basking in joy, or relaxing on Wukong's heart-patched fur. Sometimes, Wukong laid under the shadows of swaying leaves, beside the water-curtain cave and found Macaque curled on his heart-shaped patch of fur when he woke up. The sight of the lil guy curled on his chest always managed to make his heart beat faster, warmth filling every corner of his being. This is what Macaque should always look like : relaxed and satisfied.

But Sun Wukong couldn't bail on his brothers’ either, he agreed to the plan and even if he tended to be forgetful he wasn't going to betray them this way. The sage crouched down before his friend, fully covered in war regalias, and took his tiny paws in his hands.

“I'll come back.” Muttered Wukong as he searched the macaque’s gaze. “And it'll be better than ever. I swear.” Macaque averted his eyes, his tail sweeping the floor, the sage squeezed his hands in a weak attempt at comfort.

“Alright.” Sighed Macaque, he looked up with a little smile, shadowed by doubts. “Take care, don't be an idiot.” Sun Wukong chuckled a little, glad to see his lil friend being more spirited. “I made something for you.” Muttered the black-furred monkey as he searched in his bag, he took out a simple necklace made of red silk with a little stack of bamboo hanging at the end. “For good luck.” Mumbled Macaque with reddening cheeks, probably embarrassed by the gesture. Sun Wukong closed his eyes for a second to control himself and not melt in a smitten puddle of coos. “I… the wind promised me to protect it, I know how clumsy you can be…” As if to prove it, the wind ruffled both of the monkeys' hair in an affectionate gesture.

Sun Wukong took the necklace and cradled it preciously, he tied it around his neck, the bamboo falling in the middle of his chest.

“That's adorable. You're adorable.” Cooed Sun Wukong as he presented his palm to the macaque, the black-furred monkey climbed the hand and Sun Wukong lifted him to his eyes.

“I guess this is goodbye.” Awkwardly chuckled the lil guy as he scratched his cheek.

“This is a see you later.” Corrected Sun Wukong, he slowly leaned over the Macaque. Once he was close enough, the black-furred monkey opened his arms and hugged his cheek.

“You absolutely have to come back or I'll kick your ass.” Grumbled Macaque as he buried his snout in Sun Wukong's cheek.

“Now I have to come back, ‘cause I know you can pack a mean punch.” Chuckled Sun Wukong, he stayed pressed to the lil guy for a bit before letting him go.

It was time.

***

“You're ready, brother?” Asked Azure Lion as he put on his armor. Wukong looked over at him and nodded. He fiddled with his necklace a little, rubbing the bamboo with the edge of his finger, before putting it inside of his armor.

“Yeah! Let's kick some celestial asses!”

“You seem really eager to fight, brother.” Noticed the Demon Bull King with a raised eyebrow. Sun Wukong was by nature always eager to fight but perhaps he was even more motivated this time.

“Is it because you want to get home quickly and see your little husband?” Teased Peng with wiggling eyebrows, Sun Wukong fur puffed out a little and he glared at the bird.

“He's not my husband!”

“Not yet.” Sneered the bird with crossed arms. Sun Wukong was debating if he should leap forward and chase him.

“Now, now, let's calm ourselves.” Interrupted Yellow-Tusk as he put his hands on both Wukong's and Peng's shoulders. “You'll have all the time in the world to court Macaque when we come back from this.”

“That's true.” Mumbled Sun Wukong. He would win this fight, come back and spend the rest of his days with Macaque. Perhaps, he would even get to court him and become his mate. The mere idea was enough to encourage him.

“Leggo!” Shouted Wukong as he took his staff, the weight of the weapon familiar in his hands.

***

The attack on Heaven didn't go as planned.

It began well. Wukong rushed in to break apart the heavenly soldiers, his staff creating a path in the midst of battle. He felt untouchable, unbeatable, as if nothing in this world could truly stop him. He could hear his brothers battling in his back, their shouts pushing him forward. He stood against the Jade Emperor with the maddening hope of defeating him. He could already see himself win and return home. Macaque would leap to greet him, his lil sun's would organize a feast filled with his favorite fruits and he would begin his courting by offering one of Heaven's immortal peaches to Macaque. He planned it all. He tried before to grow the pits of the one he ate in his mountain's soil, but he remained fruitless.

Once Heaven was defeated, it'll be easy to steal some immortal peaches. It was the perfect way to begin their courtship. He would offer immortality to Macaque and the chance to be together forever. It was perfect.

Sun Wukong thought himself invincible.

He wasn't.

He kneeled before the Jade Emperor, failing in the battle.

He was dragged away from the battle and thrown in the furnace, without a means to escape, he sat and curled on himself. When the flames came to lick his fur, everything was burned to ashes, clothes, armors and even his own fur. The sage took his necklace, hoping it would remain with him, and perhaps someone heard his prayers, the wind came to protect the bamboo.

For 49 days Sun Wukong remained curled around the bamboo, its presence his only comfort.

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[rainswept]

LET TWO EYES BE UNDECEIVED: EXTRA SCENE

900-something words. barely any dialogue.

masterlist | recommended song

-

𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘’𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄, but there was once a point when he could not speak. He seldom remembers this time, but a hazy memory slots itself in here and there. 

Instead of a parent, or a teacher, or a sibling, the one who had passed down the art of complex language to him was none other than you. A dear friend, a close confidant, a closer enemy still. A liar. A thief, and a damn good one at that, for his heart was yours before he ever fathomed having it in his possession.

-

The sun is barely up when you awaken, curled up in a makeshift bed of cardboard boxes in an alley beside a bookstore, the cold still gnawing at your skin. You did not remember your dreams, though you can recall reading something that mentioned you had them anyway. 

The sky, violet and rose and ebony, is still glittering with the faint remnants of the stars as they are draped in silks by the daylight. The smell of smoke clouds the breeze, cold winter air coaxing steam from the pipes hidden in the city’s maw to turn into fog; Gardemeks clatter and chitter and fill the blanks the rumbling underground leaves, an incessant buzz in your ears you’re never to be rid of; Lyney and Lynette sleep peaceful and still in a little pile. The birds caw from the buildings towering above you, chasing off the last of the night’s darkness hiding in little corners; little corners like the one you’re in, huddled alone and shivering even after the shadows recede.

Lyney’s dreams fill him with hazy thoughts, warmth in his chest, a fluttering heartbeat like a fading star. His fingers twitch against the grimy ground as he sees himself grabbing onto bulle fruit from the highest branches he can reach. It’s paint on a canvas long since burned, history and future charred to bits until they are unrecognizable and mistaken for each other. It’s fuzzy, foggy, distant, reveries of rainbow roses and rivers glinting in the sun. When he tries to ponder, to dig deep and grab onto a memory these visions might lead to, his mind fails him. 

He stirs next, when the sun has climbed over the horizon and angled itself to shine right onto his eyelids. It chases away any hope he may have had of grasping onto something solid, daylight quickly flooding in to fill the void of the fading warmth of his dreams; it slips through his fingers like a lingering embrace now pulling away far too fast to comprehend. The last of it fades into the back of his mind, a fleeting thing he’ll likely never think of again. 

The pile he’s curled up in lacks your warmth — this is what he feels before he notices you are absent. 

Lyney grumbles as he wakes, squinting and immediately moving to bury his face in his sleeve as the dawn light hits his pale eyes. He gives up when he realizes it is a futile fight. He shakes his head to clear it of the sleep-induced fog it is in and blinks his eyes to chase off the last of their bleariness. When the world comes into focus, you are the first thing he sees. 

You are as far away from him as possible while still being tucked in the alley — pressed up against the wall, knees pulled up to your chest, head turned away from him as you gaze into the still-blurry distance. If you noticed his waking, you did not comment on it. 

The night waves away like Lynette does before he takes the spotlight, sweeping across the stage of the starry sky and making way for the main act. Sunlight, daybreak. At dawn and dusk, the sun is the grand finale, he thinks, but it is expected: this is why only a select few stare at the stars. He is one of them, and you are, too. 

He pushes himself up off of the ground, wobbly with the sleepiness the cold had not managed to shake. 

Mid-day, the sun is the spotlight for all else; the metal buildings arch into the sky like they’re trying to grasp the light for themselves, as if their reflection of it is not enough. It is enough — he would know, as he has nearly been blinded by them far too many times trying to get a glimpse at what he really wants to see.

The frost-tipped tile snaps back under foot as he sidles up to you, tentative, his coarse coat’s fabric abrasive against the bare skin of your arms. He presses his side against yours, slotting himself there like the two of you were puzzle pieces that nearly fit; he ignores the crucial details, the reality that you do not, and the soft scent of dust that so often envelops you invites him in when he stops thinking about it.

At night, the sun recedes, and everyone cries for an encore they know will come, yet hope for anyway. They can afford extra hope. He cannot. The sun rises every day, sets every night. He relies on this — it is one of the few solid things he can grasp onto. But within that expectation, Lyney recognizes there must be some semblance of hope, too. Nothing is guaranteed. Nothing is a miracle. He cannot spend his time worrying about the extra what if. He wishes he could. 

He leans his head on your shoulder.

“Good morning,” he murmurs. He sinks back into himself after; it felt like lead on his tongue. A false promise. That was your staple, not his. It felt odd slipping past his lips instead. 

You don’t spare him a glance, and he knows what you are going to say. “Morning.”

so this could sort of be seen as a miniature prologue, but it’s somewhat detached from the story — like i said, an extra scene that i wrote and wanted to keep but couldn’t find a place for in the actual chapters taglist: n/a (open, send an ask)

[maxybabyy]

Daniel is three weeks into the programme when Scotty asks to join him.

“What do you say then? Should we go for a run like we used to?” He says and nudges Daniel’s shoe with a naked toe. “Get some of those muscles back on you, eh?”

Daniel laughs, hooks his foot around his ankle. He pulls him into his lap, rests his weight on his good leg. “Don’t think I can keep up with you anymore, Scotty. You, me, and my bum knee. Don’t think we’re getting very far, yeah?”

Scotty smiles, rubs a thumb over the LED bracelet he slapped on in case the sun sets before he comes home. It’s better than the yellow vest his mother had told him to wear, but it still makes him feel ridiculous. Scotty, he knows, prefers to run on trails, in the deep woods with nothing but trees and birds to keep you company.

But Daniel cannot do that now.

The forest floor is too uneven for him, filled with broken-off branches and stones the size of his fist. He can barely run a mile on a flat surface, doesn’t want to challenge himself with a broken ankle as well. So he runs by the roads now, always in the vicinity of help if he were to fall.

“Hey, Lance and the fam are coming into town in two weeks or so,” Scotty says and pulls out his phone. He flips the screen around to show him a scenic view of one of the trails they used to take before the crash. A viewpoint over the water, secluded enough that Daniel had gone to his knees without problems, sucked him off until they were both fucked out and satisfied on their way down.

“I don’t know your schedule, never know where you are these days, Ric,” he says, laughs. It feels weird in his chest, bitter to taste, but Daniel laughs with him, doesn’t say the answer nowadays is mostly PT. “But it would be cool if you could come, yeah? Been a while since we’ve done something like this.”

Daniel smiles, tightens the hand resting on Scotty’s hip.

Scotty wasn’t around when Daniel crashed, deep in his training programme for the next circuit of games. Blake had offered to call him, to arrange his flights so he could come and see him before his surgery. But Daniel hadn’t wanted Scotty to see him like that, injured and pathetic, overcome with pain at any movement of his leg.

He had been on crutches by the time Scotty came home, moving by himself and mostly off the hard meds. “Come to play nurse, haven’t I?” Scotty said and clumsily carried him to bed. But even then was a shit time for Daniel, no position suitable for both sex and his knee.

Times like these are when he regrets not involving Scotty more in his recovery. The evasive memory of his crash and subsequent injury, the current limitations he was working with.

“Don’t really think I can, babe,” Daniel says and tips him to the side, Scotty landing on the couch with a bump. He leans down to tighten his shoes, stands up for a quick stretch. “Unless you wanna carry me down?”

Scotty hums, stares at his knee, at the scar making its way down his leg. He looks, puzzled, and Daniel doesn’t know how to feel.

“Yeah, no dice, mate,” he says faintly.

Daniel shrugs, tries to breathe out the bitter frustration. He leans down for a kiss, just a brush of their lips before he’s upright again. “Right, I’ll be off. Dinner later? I will order something.”

He’s barely out of the door before his phone is in his hand, music in his ears as he presses start on the next run in his programme.

“Another day, another lovely run with you. I am coach Max, the Red Bull Running global head coach, and I will be with you every step of this two-mile run,” Max says in his ears, the familiar accent easing him into a different mindset as he lets the built-up frustration bleed away.

“You did not want to be here maybe. Perhaps the weather is bad where you run, and you feel tired today also. But you pressed start, so for the next 1.6 kilometres, I will of course help you to become the best runner you can today, and I think that is the most important thing right now.”

Daniel breathes out, shifts the pressure onto his bad knee, and when it feels good, he picks up the pace, loses himself in Max’s voice, “I’m here, Maxy. Tell me what to do.”