#blue Cochin

[seabeck]

Apple bottom jeans, boots with the fur

[causalityparadoxes]

Okay last Chicken Tardis post, I swear

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

how does olivia waite keep writing sapphic romance novels perfectly tailored to me???

the first one i read by her is a romance between an embroiderer and an astronomer

there’s a heist novella and a heist novel

there’s one about beekeeping

aND NOW THIS

[hariratan]

The blue door in Jew town. #kochi #cochin #kerala #blue #jewtown #colour #bluedoor #keralatourism #fortkochi #keralagram #india #godsowncountry #photography #love #mattancherry #malayalam #trivandrum #art #instagood #wayanad #kochigram #likeforlikes #nature #thrissur #kozhikode #travel #ernakulam #instagram #malappuram #malayali https://www.instagram.com/p/CpVT8L5SerW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[tkingfisher]

Blue Cochin - started somewhere in Procreate and ended up here

[trans-leek-cookie]

in my last dream I found the dustiest chicken ever in my house

I took it to the vet and they were like. This idiot is so dusty.

It was kinda blue.

[skylarkspinner]

fiber art adventures in egypt

I recently got back from a trip to Egypt & finally got around to organizing some pictures to share. One of the things I was most excited about was seeing what I could find on fiber arts and textiles.

Dropping everything under a read more, 'cause this will be a long post haha

first visit: the National Museum of Egyptian Civilization (NMEC)

At the time of visiting, they had a special textiles exhibit. It covered Pharonic Egypt all the way up to modern times, although I only had time to check out the dynastic & a bit of the Coptic portion of the exhibit (which was what I was really hoping to see anyways)

Was super excited to see this diorama in person. I knew about it but had never seen good pictures of it. From the little I've seen of ancient Egyptian spinning, spinning with two spindles seems to be the norm rather than a master technique? It also shows up in tomb art, which the exhibit also shared:

They also used a different fiber preparation (splicing to create a rove of fiber, no traditional drafting to my understanding) so that probably made a difference? Regardless I really want to see if I can replicate the technique, especially because their spindles look so similar to modern spindles??

I took so many pictures of spindles, guys, and I fully intend to either have a few replicas made or to learn to make some myself. Also, although they were unlabeled... I'm pretty sure those are beaters for weaving? That was a bit of a trend with this trip, so much stuff was unlabeled :( I would've killed to at least get some date estimates for some of the stuff they had on display. I was nerding out in here though, and my family took a few pictures of how excited I was getting. A bit embarrassing, but eh haha

The exhibit also had a section on natural dyes used with a fun visual;

There was several diagrams specifically describing each dye source, but in the interest of not overloading on pictures I'll just list them out. For blues; woad, Yellows; turmeric, safflower, saffron, or yellow ochre; reds; madder, henna, pomegranate, and kermes. I originally thought kermes was another way to say cochineal, but it only seems to be distantly related.

next visit: Ramses Wissa Wassef Art Center

A small art center dedicated to hand-weaving wool and cotton tapestries. All of their work was museum quality & awe inspiring!!

Was even invited to their back rooms to watch a few of their weavers working; no I don't have room to put a room-sized loom anywhere but heck do I want one now

Our guide that took us through talked a bit about the natural dyes they use (all of their dyes are dyed in house with what they grow in their dye garden!!!) and got excited to hear I was also interested in natural dyes! He seemed a bit disappointed I'd never worked with indigo and. while indigo scares me, I'll take it as a sign that maybe I should try some time this year haha.

final visit; the Egyptian Museum

we really had to rush through this one which was a huge shame because it's packed full of artifacts. Also, the lighting in there is atrocious, so apologies for the not great pictures ahead.

They had a fascinating display of textile tools, more than what the NMEC had;

(Hand for size reference) I want all of these spindles! So badly! But a few of them look so much like a few of the spindles I own already?? A few of them had a spiraling notch, that's so cool? But also, what's going on with the one with two whorls? I have no idea. I'm fascinated.

Look at these whorls!! Although again, I'm a bit confused; the lack of labeling strikes again. Unsure why some of these "whorls" have two holes, or what the metal object with the wooden handle is. The display implies sewing needles, and some of them do look like it, but others.... really don't look like sewing needles. I'm absolutely enchanted by this little whorl though. I think it has birds on it?

More objects that I'm baffled by- the signage doesn't really indicate what some of this stuff is, if it's even known. Also confused by the object wrapped in white string in the right pic; it looks like a distaff but to the best of my knowledge the (ancient at least) Egyptians didn't use distaffs. It probably popped up in later times and was put in this display since it was still relevant, but I'm still not sure.

I have so many more pictures & thoughts but I'll save those for more specific future projects. I've been doing research outside this trip on ancient Egyptian spinning techniques and desperately want to go deeper into that, this trip just solidified how excited it makes me. If you made it all the way through this, many thanks for reading!

Bonus; look at this ancient linen 🥺

[guyfieriii]

We’re going out in style, babe (I)

God, it’s been a WHILE. I really lost all zeal for writing for a little while, until recently I watched the tv series ‘Mr. & Mrs. Smith’ (it’s so so good, you guys!! everyone go watch it) and it got the ol’ wheels turning. This was supposed to be a one and done thing but I got carried away and I lack the stamina to write a big whole thing so this’ll be a two-parter.

Anyway. This is my little version of it with Price. Angst and some stuff. The usual business. Haven’t written anything in months so please read this with the lowest possible expectations. Ya girl’s rusty.

Pairing : John Price x F!reader

Trigger warning : Explicit Sexual Scenes

It’s almost romantic.

The sight of husband and wife lay bare, broken and bloody. Look closely enough to see past the gore, past the ugliness set in a halo of ichor to see a sense of deliverance. The gift of release knowing they’ve met their end, and they’ve met it together.

Well, almost.

You choke out a wretched cough seeped in blood. One you’d feel rip into you, bullet holes and all, if you just weren’t so tired. You can taste it, though — coppery and astringent.

Punctuating.

This is it, you think, feeling the curve of your spine slacken at the relief of what’s coming.

I’m sorry, John.

The words spume against your lips, the only sound making it past them is a wet gurgle.

You’re grateful, for once, for the tears mar your eyesight. They keep you from seeing the true extent of his pain. You can feel it though, his agitation, his helplessness simply in the feather-light brush of his fingertips against your own. It can’t be easy, watching his wife slowly bleed to death beside him while he does the same. Seeing the way your lips turn ashen under a cochineal film of blood, watching the space between each breath lengthen gradually until all that’s left is the in between.

It’s slow. Painful. Each passing second permeated in struggle.

But better him than you.

Let me be first to go, you think in your typical manner of self-service.

It’ll all have been worth it, if only you’re the first to go.

“Oh,” It’s the first thing you can think to say,

“You’re English.���

It’s not the first thing you notice about him, though. No the thing that catches your attention at once is his eyes. Clear, calm and oh so blue. The sheer depth of them, though. Stare into them much longer, and you might not be able to find your way back out.

“Disappointed?” The question is dipped in jovial cadence. Thank God. He’s not offended.

“No. Not disappointed. I was only expecting—.” You pause, uncertain on what expectations you had starting out. Whatever they were, you can’t really remember now.

“What were you expecting, love?” He asks, simply and you know without a shadow of a doubt that it’s sincere. It echoes in the resting timbre of his voice, in the sharpness of his gaze which is dulled only slightly by something you might confuse for affection if you didn’t know any better.

You can only stare in response. Wait for the punchline that never comes.

Jesus Christ. He really does wants to know.

It’s unfamiliar territory for you to be in. To hold someone’s concern in your grasp the way you do his. However, as hard as it is for you to accept, it seems just as easy for him to simply give it away.

The weight of it makes your heart beat faster. Harder. Suddenly your mouth is too dry and you fight the urge to blink and break the spell. If he notices your discomfort, he says nothing about it.

An odd thing, really. That the two of you were matched.

“I’d like for our first day of marriage to not be a complete disappointment.” He prompts, still expecting your answer.

“Listen, uh—”

“John.” He supplies with a tone that makes you think you’re missing out on a joke.

Yeah, it’s a fake name. Haha. I get it.

“Jane.” You reciprocate, awkwardly.

“I’m Jane. And you’re perfect — er, John.” You declare with a sharp inhale only to be met with the scent of him. A bonfire is the first thing that your mind puts up front and centre. A bonfire doused out by a the lightest drizzle, so the smell of smoke still lingers. Along with it, the wafting aroma of cinnamon. Chocolate. All things warm and inviting.

You decide, in that moment, that you really really like the way he smells.

“Starting off with perfection, am I? At least give me till our silver year to really nail it.” He states, yet again, with such utter sincerity you almost miss the joke entirely.

“Till our—? Oh. Right.” You glance away, sheepish.

“This is yours; I believe.” Through your peripherals, you see a ring dangling at the top knuckle of his little finger. A delicate gold band. Simple and suited to your style. You glance at the finger right beside and see that he’s already worn his.

Right. Fuck.

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.” You reach out to take it, but he curls his finger back into his palm.

“Oh no, darling. Let me.” With the utmost care he grabs hold of your wrist, his thumb closing around your pulse — which much to your dismay is racing. It looks so slight, enclosed in his grip — which is paradoxically unyielding and yet so unbearably soft. A cushioned cage you might not mind being held captive in. You can’t bear to meet his eyes, so you keep your gaze downcast, intently focused on the way he slips the ring on your finger.

It’s not supposed to mean anything. Just work. Practicality more than something romantic. You’re spies and being married only makes it less likely that one of you will defect.

But for some reason it doesn’t feel that way. A moment shrouded in solemn intimacy. A promise. It feels that you’re bound to him, a stranger , just with the simple decent of a golden band down your finger. A covenant not meant to be entered into lightly — it’s an undeclared forfeiture of your life into the hands of another. So no, it’s not exactly romantic.

It’s something so much more.

“It’s official, eh? Mr. And Mrs. Smith.” Your hand still rests against the back of his and he makes no movement to release it.

You don’t much seem to mind.

You sleep in different beds, of course.

A habit formed with some difficulty, you’ll admit. There are times when you’ve parted ways in the hall like two men on the opposite ends of a duel — fingers curled around the trigger, waiting on the impulse to pull it. You’ve never given in but you’ve come close.

That fading post mission adrenaline leaves you pliable to your baser instincts, and you find yourself imagining all the ways he could make it better.

All the ways you could.

One night, in a hotel room in Verona, you found yourself skirting the precipice of giving in, with nothing but a 6 inch wall between the two of you.

You pictured it. Some other version of you, ready to take the plunge. This other you having the privilege of indifference in a make-believe realm wherein consequences don’t matter, and you tried to swallow the envy that rose up your throat like bile.

Tried and failed.

Your hands seem to move on their own accord as they slip between your thighs, your mind fabricating the illusion of his own taking their place.

A practiced dance of your imagination and dexterity that takes place often. More than you’d ever admit, even to yourself. You’d brand yourself in shame the morning after, and yet at night, all alone, you come at the thought of all the ways he’d take you.

He’s big. You know it.

You’ve caught glimpses of the outline of his cock in the bugle of his briefs like a voyeuristic pervert. He seemed big enough when flaccid, and you quivered.

You imagine the girth of him, hard and throbbing, promising all the ways he’d make it fit.

You use three fingers, push them deeper still and try to mimic the ways he’d fill you. You’re certain you fall short. He’d stretch you till your cunt had no give left, and then he’d stay there. Let you mold yourself to him, so he’d never feel the need to go elsewhere.

Knowing he’s within an earshot, you’re louder than you normally are. Much to the dismay of the men you’ve slept in the past, you were never vocal in bed. You’d reach orgasm, nearly mute and theatrics for the sake of male ego was something you couldn’t spare the patience for.

Tepid — that’s what they called you, disappointment oozing from each syllable.

You just couldn’t bare to disappoint John.

You put on what can only be considered a barefaced performance for the pure interest of his attention, expressing desires aloud you wouldn’t even dare admit in the privacy of your own self-contemplation. It spurs you on to climax, a fortissimo of vulgarity spewing from your lips.

In the aftermath you lay there breathless, caught unawares by just how far you took this little experiment of yours. Granted, it was all for John’s benefit but somewhere in the middle of it the pretence washed off you to reveal a gleam of authenticity.

Reeling from it, you’re unable to sleep a wink.

“Sleep well, then?” He asks you, the morning after.

“Uh huh. Some of the best night’s sleep I’ve had in my life, John.”

He looks at you like he’s about to call you out on it. Never does.

You resume your compartmentalized way of living soon after. Other than a shared fake name, your home, and the covert particulars of your questionable line of work, you two don’t share much.

Until a mission calls for it, you’ve managed to keep to yourselves a fair amount. You usually cross paths at mealtimes, which you never complain about since he wordlessly took it upon himself to do all the cooking, only letting you help clean.

Quaint domesticity at its finest.

“Safe to assume you chose high risk work as well.” He’d said over breakfast on your first morning there. “Why?”

You’d entered the kitchen to already find him there frying some eggs over the stove. You notice the little dining table to the side already set for two, a glass of orange juice poured for the both of you and toast points standing in their rack in the center of the table.

He gestured for you to take a seat before serving you a duo of over easy eggs and cup of coffee before taking his seat across.

Well, then.

Maybe there were some perks to this life of married domesticity after all.

“I thought I could use a challenge.” You offered him a half answer, as close to the truth as you could.

“And what was it that you did before this?” He asked

“Should you really be asking me that?” You countered.

“I think so, given that you’re my wife.”

My wife.

Enjoying the bit a little too much, aren’t ya John?

So were you, if you were being honest. But honestly never was your strongest suit.

“And why did you—?” You questioned him back in an effort to evade, “Pick high risk, I mean.”

“I’m ex-military, love. Figured I’d choose what I’m used to.” He answered you almost immediately, with not a hint of discomfort or thought of reserve. Either he was a fabulous liar—

Or he trusted you already.

And you didn’t know what to do with that.

“I like my eggs scrambled, by the way.

“Glad to know you feel comfortable your preferences for eggs with me, Jane.”

“Small steps, John.”

Six months in, and aside from a few close calls, you and John seemed to make a good team.

You’ve found that while he’s quick to improvise. Almost always, there’s a wrench thrown in the works, and while you might grapple over a changed course of action, he’s already adjusted to the new circumstances.

You’ve also found that he hates being separated from you in the field. You used to think it to be a manifestation of suspicion, to constantly have an eye on you.

Not that you’d blame him if it was. You weren’t exactly a fountain of knowledge when it came to sharing things of a personal nature. It would only be natural for a little mistrust to brew between a set of spies.

Married, or not.

You were disabused of that theory all too soon.

“Status update?”

“Made it through. I lost them.” You wheeze out, just barely.

“You good? You okay?” The fear in his voice is palpable through your earpiece as you stumble through to an alleyway and try to catch your breath. With the adrenaline waning off you finally feel the bullet that grazed your shoulder.

Flesh wound. You’ll live.

“Jane, fucking answer me.” He rasps, urgent and desperate. Like his sanity depends on your well-being.

It pisses you off, sometimes. Just how deeply he cares. Would you dare call him out on it, though? Now that you’ve been fed on it for months till your belly was ready to burst, like a stray turned house cat. Would you survive without it?

“I’m fucking winded, John. Just need to catch my breath. I’ll be better if we could get the fuck out of here and go—”

Home.

“—back.” You say, instead. “Let’s rendezvous at—”

“I’m coming to get you. Just stay put, yeah?”

“Jesus C—” You hiss through clenched teeth, pressing down the base of your palm into your shoulder to help slow the bleeding down. The pain of it shoots down your arm like veins of lightning, only adding to your irritation. “I’m not a child, for fuck’s—”

“Jane.” The tone of his voice shuts you up. There’s not an ounce of anger or annoyance in it. Only supplication.

Well, shit.

You knew from the very first day you met him — John was a man rooted in conviction. Hard to sway, even harder to deny.

“Fine. I’m waiting.”

He finds you hunched against the wall not 10 minutes later and you can see him visibly sag in relief. The moment he turned the corner and his eyes fell upon your own, his contracted brow-line receded, the rigidity in his stance eased, and the look on his face—

If the deities could speak to a man’s worship, you thought, this is what they would talk about.

“How bad is it?” He offers you a hand to help you stand, the other immediately seeking to find the wound hidden under the crimson blotted front of your shirt, tugging slightly at the neck of it to get a better look.

“I’m sure you’ve seen worse.” You suddenly feel all too shy at the thought of a little exposed skin in front of the man who is your husband. When his thumb grazes the underside of the wound, an unsuppressed flinch jostles you in his hold and his grip tightens.

“You’ll need stitches.” He murmurs, his movements now zephyr-like, fingers mindlessly wandering across the span of your collar bone. You can’t help but imagine the way he’d help you undress, fingers caught at the bottom seam of your shirt being gently lifted. His thumb hooking underneath — maybe just to unassumingly graze against the skin of your abdomen. Maybe to see what the rest of you would feel like against the warmth of his touch.

You’ve caught him staring — whenever you’re dressed bare in nothing but a tank top and loose pair of shorts, the lace hem of which dances so gently across the smooth expanse of your thigh. You’ve witnessed him stop in his tracks, his gaze trained downward for a moment too long to not be considered improper and just then you find it. The effervescent unsheathing of his jealousy, towards a garment of all things. It doesn’t stay long; you could blink and miss it.

But you don’t miss much.

So, when he helps you undress, later that night, and tends to your wound—

Would he stop there, you wonder?

Would you maybe want to find out?

The first time he does fully undress you, is on the eve of your first-year anniversary.

You’re greeted with a gift — a bottle of Laphroaig, 40 and garment bags with a little something for the both of you. Enclosed within an envelope is the note:

Congratulations on a successful first year of marriage.

“Be a shame for rest of it to go to waste.” You say, when John immediately reaches for the bottle. His thumb swipes across the label in an appreciative caress while he tips the cap in your direction as a way of asking drink this with me?

“Keen to dress up for me, love?” He unzips your bag to reveal a hint of luminescent satin — deepened cerulean, to match his eyes.

“I—”

“Because I am.”

You see it unfold before you — the extent of his imagination. Unfurling like an iris in bloom. His eye-line coasting across the length of your silhouette, pausing at slight intervals — the slope of your neck, the curve of your breasts, the pliable swathe of your abdomen. His fists clench in a trice and you feel the pulse of it hammering in your core.

A building reservoir of desire you’ve held back behind a dam of logic that strains beneath the weight furthermore.

He makes you feel at a loss — seemingly unpulsed by this conspicuous display of obscene want. Hunger for what is continuously denied.

Either he takes it on the chin like too good of a sport, or he simply hides it better than you do.

Either way—

You might as well try to even out the playing field.

With a rapid maneuver fuelled only by provocation and guile, you crook a finger along the collar of his button down, the palm of your other hand placed securely over his chest.

“I will, if you will.”

This was it — the fracture in the levee holding back a year’s worth of self-deception. With the curtain drawn on every enciphered impulse, you could finally meet him on equal, honest footing. The kindling that lay bare now set alight and you can only hope you aren’t scorched by it.

And if you are—

You pray it consumes you quick.

The rest of the evening just kind of blends together — three finger pours, a little music, some dancing, if you could even call it that.

John’s generosity with the scotch turned you sloppy, with all your past attempts at decorum now semi-liquid — like a condensed pour of honey out the jar.

“Dance with me, Jane.”

“Just want to get your hands on m’, don’t ya? Clingy fucker.”

Pot, meet kettle, you think to yourself.

Drunk or not, at least you’re self-aware.

It’s in the middle of the night when you jostle awake, with a dry mouth and a hammering in your skull that you feel in your teeth. Somehow, you made it to bed. Still dressed.

You smooth a palm across the creased satin encasing your body, bunching the fabric into your fists absentmindedly.

“Couldn’t bare to take you out of it just yet.”

You’re caught off guard to find John lounging in the chair in the corner of your room, your dulled senses inhibiting the reflex to reach for your gun.

“Never sneak up on a spy, John. Could’a shot you dead if I wasn’t this fucking hungover.”

“Thank God for small mercies. You’d make an awful widow.” His tone bleeds irony but there’s an undertone to it. It’s one you don’t recognize.

He’s since rid himself of his jacket and cufflinks, with the first few buttons undone and his sleeves rolled up and his arms crossed over his chest that rises and falls with every deliberate breath he takes. The picture of nonchalant inertia to the unknowing eye.

Not you, though.

You see the simmering thirst in a man who has been parched for too long, the certainty set in his eyes in search of an oasis—

And something else. An offshoot growing from the root of brackish resentment you can’t quite place.

And maybe, just maybe you worry you’re about to have your heart broken.

Not that you’d ever tell him.

“Fuck you.” You mutter, indignantly, massaging the bridge of your nose in an effort to ease the ache.

With lithe and measured movements, John approaches you. Through your peripherals you watch his feet get closer and closer with every step, until he’s inches away. With a firm-handed pull at your chin, he forces your gaze towards him— that indescribable tincture yet staining his features.

His head tilts imperceptibly, eyes narrowing in determination while he decides….what?

Whether to fuck you? Whether to leave you be and maintain the suffocating, acetic undercurrent you’ve maintained for an entire year in keeping your hands to yourself?

Whether to—

You stop your deliberations straight in their tracks as his hold on you tightens ever so slightly, his thumb disengaging from the rest to glide across your bottom lip.

Pulsing headache aside, you feel your entire being throb in anticipation.

“John—”

“Hush,” He takes advantage of your parted lips, probing the seam of them a little deeper. “Let a man savour a moment, for fuck’s sake.”

Seconds dissolve into minutes, as you wait with bated breath. Each lungful heavier than the last under the stifling pressure of a singular moment being pulled taut beyond belief.

“Jane, darling?” His voice is a mere whisper.

“Hmm?”

“How badly do you want to be fucked right now?”

A sizzle of defiance erupts deep in your belly. The urge to impugn stings the tip of your tongue when you see it. That look. That look that pummels down any defence you could even hope to construct. It demands sincerity, even when you can barely muster it on a good day let alone hungover and painfully aroused.

So, in the place of a rejoinder that would leave you both sexually frustrated and teetering the edge of combustion, you say the truth.

“So fucking badly, John. For months. Possibly from the moment we met.”

What hits you in that moment is disconcerting mixture of emotions: part relief at the unburdening of long-held truths, part self-consciousness at the ease in which just you’ve confessed them.

The latter dissolves almost immediately when you watch the resulting smile that etches itself across his face. A smile that screams pride. Absolution. The kind you’d find on a man who finally reached the peak of his dreams.

You were his Everest. Finally conquered.

“That’s my girl.”

His words leave you breathless. It’s not the first time he’s called you his, so it isn’t the novelty of the statement that floors you. It’s the fact that for the first time in a year, you recognize it to be true.

You’re his — been his for some time now.

The epiphany goes to your head like strong drink — and right on the heels of your previous state of inebriety, it’s all too much to take.

“Fuck, John. Just—” Whatever you might’ve said next is devoured by him in an abrubt dive to kiss you. It’s fervent and messy, all tongue and teeth leaving the viscid traces of saliva across your lips, jaw, and neck.

It’s an unremitting onslaught of his lips and hands — him touching you, tasting you at a pace you couldn’t dream of outrunning. Sometime in the midst of it, he’s managed to strip you both down without missing a beat. I’ll take care of it, my darling, he’d said when you protested to the number of layers that still lay between the two of you.

That was the thing about John. He’d not let a single demand of yours go unsatisfied. A depraved part of you wondered how far you could draw it out, test his endurance. Find the limit and shame him for it.

Needless to say, you never did.

Not out of decency, a trait of which you were always found deficient. It was only out of the fear of having had something unattainable only to eventually lose it. Fact of the matter is, there would be no limit to what you could ask of him.

Onto to simpler requests, then.

“Fuckin’ need you inside of me.”

His cock fills you up just as you’d expected— stretched to capacity, the head of his cock grazing against your cervix with a couple of inches to spare. You hiss through your teeth, your nails digging into his back to recompense for the building pressure.

“Shit, John. Fu—uck—” You pant, lungs convulsing beneath the strain of his weight pressing down on you, skin meeting skin at every possible junction.

“Should’a let me work you out first, then.” He grunts, lips latching on to the shell of your ear.

He forced an arm between the two of you, his fingers find your clit, drawing gentle circles. A direct juxtaposition to the shallow quick paced thrusts, while his other arm snakes around to border the crown of your skull. A preemptive measure for a good and thorough fucking.

Eventually the burn at the rim of your cunt subsides and you take more of him than you could’ve ever imagined. Right to the hilt. He draws back out, just halfway and looks, as if to admire his handiwork before slamming back in with a reverberant so fuckin’ tight, so fuckin’ good or some variation of the praise over and over.

A year’s worth of raked up want comes cresting over this one night— he fucks you once more with the privilege of leisure the second time around. When you’re fucked out, slack-jawed with a raw cunt dripping cum, he croons with self-satisfaction and promises you’ll take him again.

You do, naturally. Drunk on the smell of sex which weighs down the air in the room, obedience comes easy.

He’s gentler this time, softer in the way he touches you. Fingers raking over flushed, sweaty skin. His tongue gliding over every inch of you, twice over, like he means to really savour it. Catalogue what every part of you tastes like should this be the only chance he gets. He fucks you slow and deep, a litany of indebtedness perpetuating every movement.

There are things about him you commit to memory, as well. The lingering taste of his last cigar that glides across your tongue when he kisses you. The flickering pulse in his brow when he’s close. The weight of his cock sheathed within you, the sting that comes with it.

When the haze of prolonged unfed lust unfurls with a yawn of satiety, you find all that remains is a sense of premonition.

Of a tragic and bitter end.

[kedreeva]

Hi! 😁 I might soon have the chance to have a garden and I've always wanted to have a few chickens, and I've started some online reasearch about keeping chickens but since you're an expert and I don't trust some of the online sources, do you have any tips for absolute beginners? 😅

I do! You can have a garden, or you can have chickens, but the two are diametrically opposed forces that do not coexist peacefully without fully enclosing one or the other. Chickens can and will obliterate gardens and landscaping if they have access to it, including absolutely destroying mulch patches by helping you spread it all over the yard.

I'll put the rest under a cut ^_^

When you acquire chickens, don't get them from a hatchery, get them from a small breeder you've looked into and spoken with about their actual birds. Hatcheries have poor quality animals, so while you may be getting a "black copper marans," they're not gonna necessarily look very nice, and they're almost certainly not going to lay that nice, deep chocolate marans are known for.

Vs straight from one of the bigger hatcheries pages, photos of their eggs:

You also are NOT going to get the breed qualities of any given breed except maybe some of the production breeds. For example, a Jersey Giant from a reputable breeder will get up to 10-13lbs, which is as big or bigger than my peafowl. Same with Brahmas and Cochins. Hatchery stock you will be lucky to see 6-8lbs, and people are OFTEN disappointed about this kind of thing. Silkies, as another example, can look WILDLY different from a hatchery vs a private breeder. A show quality silkie is a puffball:

Hatcheries also pull skeevy moves like calling easter eggers (mutts that lay blue, green, pink, brown, or white eggs) "americanas" hoping that you mistake it for "ameraucana" the pure breed that lays stark blue eggs. Then they charge you ameraucana prices (like, $25/chick) when they should be charging more like $3-5 a chick. They'll do things like call a marans/barred rock mix a "mystic marans" as if it's a new color morph of a marans chicken instead of a mixed breed mutt they invented to be able to sex their chicks at hatch easier. People get these guys expecting MARANS eggs, and they get tan barred rock eggs. Same can go for temperament and behaviors. You go anywhere that has a group of chicken owners and ask them what their favorite breed is, you will get a range of answers with reasons like "my X is so sweet" while the next person will go "mine's the devil" and if you ask, 9 times out of 10, it's hatchery stock birds. Well bred private breeders often have MUCH more stable temperaments.

vs hatchery stock

Getting from a private breeder also lets you get eggs, which can help you dodge a LOT of disease bullets. There's very little that transfers through the egg, strangely, and some of that is transferred on the surface of the eggs (like mycoplasma) so a quick santizing dip before incubation gets rid of that. I know that hatching them yourself is more of a hassle, but so is losing your flock to newcomers that came in with something entirely avoidable if you'd hatched instead. If your breeder is NPIP certified, they're getting tested for the major egg-traveling problem (pullorum) and a dip will take care of most anything else unless you're super SUPER unlucky.

Lastly on acquisitions, be prepared to get roosters. If you can't have roosters, be prepared to get them processed for yourself for food, or let the roosters go to food homes. Please please please please. There are so many, many excess roosters. They cannot all go to homes. The rooster to hen ratio in a flock is like 1:9. The rooster to hen ratio in hatching is nearly 1:1. Let someone make use of them. EVEN if you order from a hatchery, and order all pullets, they can make mistakes and send rooster babies. It's not a guarantee! Have a plan in advance! Mentally prepare yourself! Don't be one of Those People making posts in local groups about how you don't want/can't have this rooster but also no one else can eat it either. Chickens are a lot of things. Sometimes food is one of those things.

BEFORE actually acquiring the chickens, locate a vet that will see them. You are GOING to have an issue at some point in their lives, and that's not the time to start looking for a vet, that's the time to already have a vet on hand. In fact if you can support a yearly wellness check on at least one of the birds to test for communicable illnesses (like mycoplasma) and have a good relationship with your vet in advance, that's even better.

As for care, if you plan to contain the chickens, the minimum recommendation for a backyard coop and run varies wildly. For stress purposes, most chickens will find 4 feet of floor space per bird inside the coop adequate, accompanied by 10 square feet of space in a run per bird. Unlike peafowl, it doesn't matter how big the run is, the chickens will be turning the entire thing to bare soil, which is one of the reasons most people don't keep both in the same pens. I literally attempted to keep 2 standard chickens in a 1200 foot pen and they systematically went about destroying everything they could get to.

Most layer feeds are 16% protein; most layer feeds are also /production/ layer feeds, meant to feed production breeds in a space where they get NO other feed except this. If you plan to feed anything other than layer feed to them, like treats or whole foods or scratch grains, then you need to find a higher protein feed for them, because most treats are lower protein than layer feed. Avoid anything produced by Purina or Dumor (which is purina but TSC brand), except MAYBE the organic dumor 5-grain scratch grain, it's well-known as one of the worst quality fowl feeds out there. Check out your local mill and see if they have any options that are better than the big box farm stores. Kalmbach makes good feeds, as does Belstra.

Possibly counterintuitive, but stick with a smaller waterer over a larger waterer. You can keep a larger one around for if you go away for the weekend or something to make it easier on a sitter, but a smaller waterer like a 5-quart or gallon waterer will be easier to clean and make sure that you're giving fresh water more often, plus avoiding mosquitoes growing in it. Waterers can slime up really easily in the summer, so just be prepared to give it a quick swish clean every time you change the water out. Smaller waterers also make it easier to give them medication if you have something that goes in the water, especially since a lot of the water medications are "make fresh daily." Personally I don't bother with heated water bases anymore in the winter, I just have enough waterers to exchange them for a fresh one a couple times daily, while the old one thaws inside the back door on some plastic. The galvanized ones you have to use with the heated bases always got gross fast, with rust and discoloration and the stopper in the bottom always dried out and eventually cracked over the summer when we weren't using them.

Try to avoid straw bedding unless you REALLY trust the source. Straw is mostly for livestock, not poultry. It cannot catch the droppings of poultry the way shavings or sand or other beddings do, meaning the wet gunk drops to the floor under it and/or collects into grossness. It also molds easily, can carry in field parasites (since it's not treated the way shavings are often kiln fired before packaging), and breaks down into shards. I'm not saying you can't ever use it for any reason (I use it in some fashion, and have for over a decade, but not exclusively, and I trust my source, we've never gotten mites or anything, and I'm very careful about which bales I pick out), but if you have a choice, go for the wood substrates, or even for sand. A lot of people put sand in their runs because they can then rake it like kitty litter.

Look into what plants chickens can't have, and check your yard over thoroughly for them before adding chickens. Things like lilac bushes are toxic to them. Tomato and potato plants are nightshades so while they can have the fruits, the leaves and stems can be toxic. Stuff like that.

Lastly.... if anyone ever makes a claim about what something does for a chicken (example: diatomaceous earth, apple cider vinegar, pumpkin seeds, oregano, red pepper flakes, lavender, etc are all things I've seen people claim do all sorts of things from worming birds to curing respiratory infections), ask them for their source. If it's a blog post, ask them for a scientific article. If they can't provide it and you can't find one that backs up what they're saying, maybe reconsider the value of that particular advice. The thing is, the BIG production companies are VERY invested in finding cheap or organic or tricky ways to do WHATEVER it is (treat endo/ectoparasites, treat illness, make bigger or more eggs, change egg yolk color, etc), and they pour money into trying to figure out which old wives tales actually work and which ones don't. And if they haven't been able to prove it to a point where they'll spend money on it as a solution, then chances are REALLY GOOD that it's not a solution at all actually.

Things like how to clean coops, what feeds to get, what items to use for care, where to source birds, behavioral information etc, that's all stuff you can ask advice on in general public spaces. You'll still get a range of answers, and some of them will be garbage answers, but hardly any of them will do harm to your animals to do or not do. Like, for example, you can use a big waterer or a small waterer, as long as it's clean. You can vary coop and run size and still be fine. You don't have to feed exactly what someone else is feeding for your birds to be fine. You're probably going to try a few breeds before you find the one(s) you like best.

But when it comes to medical info or any kind of "treatment" type stuff? Consult a vet and/or at least look for scientific papers.

And lastly.... chicken math is Real, yo. However many chickens you think you want to get, plan on having the space for double that amount so you don't gotta rebuild anything when you ultimately decide wait, you need a couple more. The bigger space won't hurt them if you don't get more, but it'll be so much easier on you if you do ;)

[bluejayblueskies]

Red, White & Royal Blue Rebind

[ID: Eight pictures of a hand-bound rebind of the book "Red, White & Royal Blue." The first shows the cover, which has been bound in light gray bookcloth and is decorated to look like a suit with a union jack tie. There are two cardstock buttons, one that says "Vote Claremont" and the other that says "History, huh?" On the right side, the title "Red, White and Royal Blue" is painted on in red, white, and blue paint respectively. On the left side, the author name "Casey McQuiston" is painted on in white paint. The second shows the spine, covered also in gray bookcloth. It has the title "Red, White and Royal Blue" painted on in red, white, and blue paint respectively and the author name "Casey McQuiston" painted on in white paint. The third shows the book from the top so the headbands, sewn with red, white, and blue thread, can be seen. The fourth shows the title page of the book, which has the title "Red, White and Royal Blue" in red, white, and blue ink respectively, as well as the author name "Casey McQuiston" beneath it. The fifth shows the colophon page (left) and dedication page (right). The colophon has details about the book, as well as the binder logo for Blue Skies Books (a bluejay) and the logo for Renegade Publishing (a bookpress). The dedication page says, "For the weirdos and the dreamers" in a sans serif font above a black and white drawing of a reflective lake with pine trees around it. The sixth shows a chapter header page, which has a gray skyline that merges the skylines of DC and London across the top of it. The word "One" is in all caps in white on the lefthand side of the skyline, and body text is beneath it in a serif font. The seventh shows the inside of the book, drawing attention to the formatting of the emails throughout the book. The emails include icons for both Henry and Alex, email addresses, timestamps, and subjects. The eighth shows the inside of the book, drawing attention to the red, white, and blue heart page divider and the handwriting fonts used within the regular body text for certain words. /End ID]

When the Red, White and Royal Blue movie came out last year, I rediscovered my love for this book and these characters and just had to do a rebind of it! This is a full rebind, so I've done the typeset myself as well as the cover. I had a delightful time coming up with the cover design (I imagine this is modeled after a theoretical Alex suit, though it could be Henry's as well!), and I had an especially fun time doing the typeset. There are so many fun formatting elements in this story, and it was great getting to put my own spin on them.

Logistics-wise, this bind uses Lumeiere fabric paint and a Silhouette-cut stencil for the words, Silhouette-cut cardstock for the decorative elements, handmade cotton bookcloth for the cover, cotton embroidery thread for the endbands, and regular Hammermill cream paper for the textblock. (Once I've saved up for it, I'm looking forward to getting some short-grain textblock paper! This is still long grain.) The body font is Cochin and the title font is Montserrat.

And finally: my bind versus my trade paperback copy!

[ID: A picture of the hand-bound version of "Red, White and Royal Blue" from above held next to the mass-produced paperback version of the same book. They are made in different styles with different color schemes, but both have a fun and slightly whimsical appearance to them. /End ID]

[tmntxthings]

Okay okay okay that love potion Leo you just wrote. I’m screaming could you maybe do one with Donnie but instead of him pretending it’s still in effect the reader at one point saying something like “ I know you hate being touched but this has been kinda nice” and when it wears off he remembers that and he starts being slightly more affectionate and or tells reader he likes them too??

Started with a Spark

author’s note: thank u for the request anon c: i’d like the dedicate this one to @maximuslyqueer & @cochineal-tanto for leaving me motivating comments <3 that rlly helps me write more than you know, so thank you and I hope everyone enjoys~~~

warnings: slight angst, abundance of fluff, maybe some cursing

> leo’s < > raph’s < > mikey’s < > casey’s <

—————————————————————————

“Leo before you do possibly drink poison, let me run it past my far superior senses,” Donnie said grabbing the glass that contained the pink, bubbly substance. Leo rolled his eyes, “I know for a fact without you looking and sniffing at it that it’s not poison,” Leo claimed.

“And what brings you to that conclusion?” Donnie asked as he brought down his goggles to run a scan, seeing that it had a bunch of mystic ingredients that Donnie was unfamiliar with. “It’s pink and we’re at Hueso’s restaurant! Ya think he just lets people serve poison as a beverage?” Leo said as if it was obvious.

Donnie used his free hand to push back his goggles so they rested on top of his head. He brought the drink closer to his face, intending to smell it to see if it had any poisonous aromas. Donnie didn’t notice the smirk that spread on Leo’s face but you did. You narrowed your eyes wondering what the blue twin was about to pull.

Everyone had thought it was high time for you to try some of the best mystic pizza around. So they had dragged you to their spot at Hueso’s. Raph sat on the end of the booth then Mikey and you. Across from you sat Donnie and Leo to his left.

When the glass was close enough, Leo reached out quickly tipping the glass and the drink spilt all over his brother. It went down Donnie’s nose and some of it into his mouth as he sputtered and choked. “What the fuck Leo?!” Donnie managed to gasp out. You shot Leo a glare as you reached across the table with a napkin to help Donnie. Leo and Mikey were snickering as Raph shook his head, covering his mouth to hide a smile. “Told ya it wasn’t poison!” Leo said triumphantly.

Donnie’s eyes were squeezed shut, still trying to regain composure, more than slightly embarrassed. “Thanks Y/n” Donnie mumbled, blinking a couple of times as he reached for the napkin you had been trying to hand him. When your fingers brushed his it was like electricity passed between the two of you!

Both of you recoiled in surprise and Donnie looked at you finally, “Are-“ he had been going to ask if you were okay. But as soon as his eyes focused in on your figure it was like something happened. You looked so luminescent, he had always secretly admired you but what he was seeing now was otherworldly. “Donnie?” You questioned, looking at how his expression had changed from concern to something like adoration. Your voice gave him chills, he closed his eyes at the sound. Everything about you was just perfect. “Oh my Galileo~!” Donnie breathed out in wonder.

Everyone at the table was looking at Donnie with worry. “Uh Donnie” Leo said tapping on his brother’s shoulder, wondering whether the drink really had been poison?! “HAS ANYONE SEEN A PINK DRINK???” Hueso shouted as he came out of the kitchen. The whole restaurant quieted as Raph groaned. “Yeah over here!” Mikey said waving his hand high for Hueso to come over. The bone man came running, grimacing as he noticed it was the turtles. He just knew this wouldn’t be good. “Dónde está?” he asked looking all over the table and noticing that only one glass happened to be empty. Leo was sweating bullets, “Señor Hueso, please tell me that drink wasn’t poisonous!”

“Eh? No no it wasn’t poison but it was a potion!” He reassured the blue turtle. Leo let out a sigh of relief but Raph glared at his brother shaking his head, “What kind of potion???” Raph said hesitantly. “A love potion,” and everyone’s gaze went back to Donnie. He had been ignoring anything and everything that wasn’t you. He had this dreamy sort of look about him as he stared at you. “It’ll wear off,” Hueso mumbled, upset that the drink had been wasted. He left the table going back to the kitchen. “Well at least it’s not poison right!” Leo chirped like the whole thing wasn’t his fault.

You didn’t really know what to do. No one did. Hueso said it would wear off so the answer was to just wait. The pizza came and the whole thing was kind of brushed to the side. Donnie was usually quiet so it wasn’t a big deal. But no one else knew how his feet had inched closer and closer to yours until they were resting side by side. Your eyes had widened in surprise at the feeling, and even more when you looked up from your plate to see him not flustered but smirking. His smug expression stayed there as he leaned his shell back into the booth and his foot went up to your calf, going up and down gently.

Your face heated up immediately and before you could stop yourself you kicked him. He winced under his breath, causing Leo to give his brother a side glance before he went back to eating and talking to Mikey about new skateboard tricks. “Get it together Don,” you whispered as you took another bite of pizza. “Get what together?” He asked leaning forward on his elbows, ignoring the food. “I mean, I know you might not realize but this love potion has definitely messed with your mind!” you kept your voice quiet as you explained.

“I don’t know, I think that drink just opened my eyes to how absolutely adorable you are~” Donnie said following your lead and keeping his voice on the quiet side. You blushed at that shaking your head, “Donnie you’d never say anything like that in a million years! Much less voluntarily touch me!” you tried to reason with him. “But I like how you feel,” he said reaching out with his hand to grab yours. Now that had everyone else’s attention. His three brother’s raising their eyebrows in surprise. “Guess it really does work!” Mikey said in amazement. Raph frowned, “Y/n just let me know if this is making you uncomfortable.”

Your gaze tore from where Donnie’s hand had held yours. “Hmm? Oh yeah I will don’t worry, I doubt it’ll get worse than this though,” you joked. Leo laughed and Raph nodded, they all knew Donnie wasn’t touchy. But that had Donnie narrowing his eyes, at your comment and how Raph made it sound like he had done something so horrible. He squeezed your hand, wanting your attention back on him instead of his brothers. You obliged without realizing his intentions, just noticing how his grip had tightened. You rubbed your thumb on Donnie’s skin and his breathing stopped. Sensations like this were heightened to him when it came to you (and because of the potion).

He had to hold his breath until you stopped seconds later, not wanting to make a scene aka turn into a churring mess in front of his brothers. Donnie held your hand the whole way back to the lair. And when you were standing around in the living area with Donnie glued to your side, feeling awkward about what to do now, he just pulled you with him to his lab. “Guess I’ll see you guys later!” You hollered over your shoulder to the rest of the brothers. “Donnie’s totally gonna flip when that thing wears off” Leo said to no one in particular.

“Soo what do you wanna do?” You asked once in the lab. You’d been in here multiple times before. Usually whenever you were bored you would come and listen to Donnie talk about his latest and greatest inventions or builds. He’d go on long tangents and you would smile listening and looking intently at whatever blueprints or finished products he would show you. “Hmmm let’s dance!” Donnie said enthusiastically, as he typed something into his wrist tech and music surrounded them.

“Dance?!” You said incredulously. You were surprised as he pulled you closer. He nodded, “I love dancing,” he smiled down at you, starting to move to the music and you followed his lead despite your reservations. “Really? How come I’ve never seen you dance?” You asked curiously. He shrugged, not explaining any further as the two of you twirled around the lab. He was a great lead, and you could tell he was enjoying this. His hands moved from yours down to your hips as a slower song came on next. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he whispered into your ear as he leaned his head closer to yours.

You smiled, “we’ll have to dance again then once the potion wears off!” You wondered if Donnie would remember any of this, if he would want to dance once the potion faded. You had a crush on the purple clad turtle since who knew when! It had crept up on you one day and ever since you couldn’t help but stare whenever he would enter the room. But you hadn’t felt confident enough to confess, plus you were a really clingy type of lover. If you did start actually flirting you probably wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of him, which obviously was a no go. So you kept your feelings to yourself waiting for them to just silently fade. And yet here you were in Donnie’s arms.

You just knew you’d be thinking of these moments long after the potion wore off. It hurt your heart to think that way but you needed to come to the realization that maybe you and Donnie weren’t meant to be. You weren’t a selfish person, you wouldn’t force him to be someone he wasn’t, do something he wouldn’t want to do like hug or hold hands. So this love potion thing was like a living fantasy something that had happened only in your dreams.

“You promise?” Donnie’s voice brought you out of your thoughts. “Hm?” You questioned. “Do you promise that we’ll dance again?” The look on his face was so loving, “of course!” you promised, even if he didn’t remember, you’d say anything to make him happy in this moment. “I know you hate being touched..” as if to prove you wrong he nuzzled his face into your neck. You giggled, “but this has been really nice,” you sighed and you swore you felt his lips kiss at your neck.

[One week later]

Donnie woke up with a start. He sat up in bed heaving, looking around as if he had just ran a marathon instead of just waking up from a dream. A pretty damn life-like dream. It involved you, every second had been with you, dancing in his lab, following you around, napping together, limbs twisted over and under each other, holding your hand, tears in your eyes as you hugged him tightly, whispering something to him. He strained to remember what you had said. “Ugh!” Donnie laid back in bed.

He was up after a few seconds, it had just been a dream.. right? He walked out of his room heading to the kitchen, stretching as he made his way there. “Oho! Look who it is~~” Leo called out as Donnie passed his twins room. “Sooo how ya feeling??” Leo said catching up to Donnie and walking alongside him leisurely. “Tired.” The purple turtle said giving his brother a side glance. “Remember anything ya did last week?” Leo said smugly getting right to the thick of things.

Donnie scrunched up his face thinking… but all he could remember was bits and pieces of the dream. The dream! He looked at his brother in shock, “what happened??” Donnie asked not even understanding why everything was so fuzzy to begin with. “Leo dumped a love potion on you and you and Y/n were inseparable for a week until last night!” Mikey said in passing like it was old news.

“YOU DID WHAT?” Donnie yelled into Leo’s face who blinked and gave a sheepish smile, “right I forgot how that had all started, heh!” His brother turned back to escape into his room. “We’re not done here Leonardo, I was under a love potion for a week?!” Donnie followed after his blue brother not letting him get away that easily. “Yeah yeah, shouldn’t you be heading to Y/n’s and talking about how you couldn’t keep your hands off of them??” It was a distraction tactic but it worked. Every single moment of contact rushed into Donnie’s mind, replaying. It hadn’t been a dream, he had held you in his hands, put his on your hips and twirled you around, hugged you, kissed you!

He whipped out his phone. Turning away from Leo who readily used that moment to escape from Donnie’s wrath. Text or call, Donnie questioned. No none of that, he had to see you, now. The tears, what had you been trying to tell him?? None of it made any sense and he had a sinking feeling he was forgetting something important. But he was blinded by all of his unusual behavior, mostly the fact that he had felt comfortable enough to be glued to your side for a week straight. He knew he had a crush on you but did his feelings run that deep? He needed to see you!

Three knocks could be heard from your bedroom window and you rolled out of bed. Wondering which of the turtles it could be cause none of your human friends used anything but the front door. “Donnie?” you gasped as you pulled back your curtains. You opened up your window and Donnie hastily climbed inside your room. “Apologies for the intrusion I just-“ he fumbled with the right words, “this past week” and you looked at him hopeful, but as he looked at you helplessly, not knowing what to say, you nodded. “It’s okay, I know you were just under the influence of the potion..” you said but you had been telling yourself that for a week now and you still couldn’t seem to make your heart agree with your mind. You turned away from him, “no y/n,” he reached for you like it was second nature. When his hand met your arm he stilled.

“Please, just explain what happened, my mind is so foggy,” he said as he let his hand fall away from your arm as you turned to face him. You could tell he was confused with his body as he stared down at his hand in shock. But as you explained from the very beginning he looked up and listened to every word. You were blushing and he was blushing it was a whole blush fest when you recounted the way he flirted. “I can’t believe I did that!” Donnie would say, hands coming up to his face to cover it embarrassed by his love-potion self’s actions. “Well..” you had started to say but you swallowed, realizing if you said what you had been thinking Donnie would definitely know your secret. Your undeniable crush on him.

When you didn’t continue Donnie moved his hands away from his face, “Yes?” He asked wanting you to continue and you shook your head nervously. “Oh c’mon Y/n, now I’m curious!” He called after you as you went back to your bed. “Trust me you’ll only be burdened once you do know,” you said with contempt for yourself. Donnie sat next to you, again shocking himself as he reached for your hand. But this time he didn’t pull away, “I doubt that” he said smiling softly at you. “…I enjoyed it.. all of last week” you breathed out hastily, squeezing his hand. Donnie’s eyes widened, “r-really??” and you nodded.

“I’ve had the biggest crush on you for some time now Don,” you admitted, if you were gonna confess you might as well lay it all out on the table so he could reject you properly. Donnie’s heart stuttered, then kicked into high gear. “That makes two of us,” he whispered. Your mouth dropped open and then you hastily closed it, “are you sure? don’t you think it’s the side effect of the potion somehow?” you sighed thinking the worst before letting your hopes get too high. “I’m one hundred percent positive, because I liked you before the potion Y/n,”

You jumped up to your feet suddenly. Running over to your record player. “What’re you doing?” Donnie laughed, watching you flit around the room as you dimmed the lights. “Setting the mood!” You turned and winked at him seductively and his mind went blank. It must’ve shown on his face because you giggled and came back to him, reaching for his hands hesitantly, “I made a promise, would you like to dance?”

Donnie met your hands, your fingers intertwining with his. He rose to his feet, the music started playing and the volume climbed until it was all he could hear. It was like a movie, he was in a romcom, and he was enjoying it. He smiled, “I love dancing” he said as the two of swayed to the beat. You smiled up at him, a twinkle in your eyes as if you knew something he didn’t, “we’ll just have to do this again sometime then!”

It was like he was experiencing deja vu and he connected the dots. Finally it was like his mind cleared and he could remember everything clearly without having to be told. He knew what to say next as he smirked, “you promise?” and you laughed seeing the recognition in Donnie’s face. “Of course! I can’t imagine dancing with anyone else,” and the two of you moved closer together, enjoying the moment, feeling more than giddy. “I like you,” Donnie said kissing your temple, you flushed, tilting your head upwards, “I like you too so so much!” You gushed and surged forward capturing his lips. His hands moved up to your face, cradling it carefully, he was so gentle, so loving. It was everything you had dreamed of and more~~~

[no-name-publishing]

Interim (and company) by starkraving

After what has literally been a year and a month, I can call this project finished. The highs and lows of American football. You understand. Very grateful to the author for having written it and letting me bind them a copy! More photos and process pics under the cut.

The bookcloth material is faux suede, and the title decoration is cut from a glossy transparent HTV. The effect is completely swoon worthy, and exactly as I'd imagined it. That said I had a difficult time conceptualizing a design for the case at all; my only working idea was the endband, ribbon bookmark, and head and tail decoration. For 6 months everything I was coming up with for the cover was clashing very hard against these elements. So instead I took steps backwards, and thought how I could make something simple still visually interesting. I decided the difference in physical texture and appearance between the faux suede cloth and a glossy transparent HTV could be just what I was looking for, and I think it worked incredibly well.

The endband is done with adapted renaissance endbands in opposing directions, with a simple wrap of red thread in the center. I don't think peek-a-boo is the right phrase but nonetheless. The head and tail are painted with spray paint, in a gradient pattern that fades as it nears the foredge. The light blue accent lines are also spray paint, applied with a stencil I drew and made myself.

Typesetting shots. I use Word to typeset, and everything is designed and arranged within the program. Body font is Cochineal, the decorative title font is Caesar, as well as Sheikah and Hylian script.

The tiny books are simple, using elements from the main bind to tie them together. These are the spin-off short stories starkraving recently released as part of the Interim series. A testament to exactly how long this bind took me to complete, otherwise I would have included these in the main book. Oh well, it means I got to make tiny books.

Little video showing off the pieces. Particularly proud of the title page.

Process shots starting at my early test run of the my endband idea, to spraying the head and tail. Sewing the primary endband, and the completed bands on both books.

Very pleased altogether with how this came out. Also pleased to have it out of my WIP pile where I can take it off the shelf and fondle it whenever I want.

[kohanakonohana]

コチニールのむら染めピンクと、謎の青い実クサギの水色のマクラメ糸を追加してみました。

Two new colours of macrame yarns have been just listed on my store...Uneven dyed pink with cochineal and pale blue with Clerodendrum trichotomum, that strange berries I always gather in Autmun...

[ask-shane]

Hey hey, Trick here. Might become a bit of a regular, I met you in a different universe just the other day.

Seeing as you're the creator of blue chickens (cool job btw, I'm impressed), I thought I'd tell you about some other funky chickens.

There's Ayam Cemani, fully black chickens. Really fun for anyone goth. There's also Cochin chickens who look like they're wearing fancy-pants. One of my favorite's gotta be Easter Eggers though with their green eggs.

Decided to move out to the city to become a chicken farmer, so. Yeah, fun hobby, huh?

I really like your blue ones though, they're so pretty.

(also mod, thankchu for running the blog and happy new year <3)

oh, hey again trick. thanks for commending me on the whole blue chickens thing... sometimes i forget i did that.

i didn't know that about some of these chicken breeds. i knew they were called easter eggers, but i didn't know it was so literal. it's no surprise you're a chicken farmer given you're so knowledgeable... i aspire to do that someday.

[yandere-writer-momo]

The Au that they use in other fandoms to give farm animal characteristics to the characters is seducing me, and I can't help imagining it for Baki, mainly those in which the S/O are the farmers and their cattle are in love with them

I need holy water

I get it.

Ranch AU with Rancher Reader

Kaoru is definitely a Belgian Blue bull you rescued. He is too massive not to be. He takes a long time to warm up to you but he slowly becomes incredibly possessive of your time. He refuses to mate any of the cows on the ranch

Jack is a massive Shire horse. He’s so gentle to you and helps take you around the ranch to herd up the others.

Baki is an Australian cattle dog. He terrorizes all the other farm animals to get your attention.

Katsumi is a ragdoll cat that just won’t leave your farm alone. You think he was abandoned so you’re very sweet to him (your other animals are jealous of him).

Retsu is an Anatolian black goat. You find him sitting on all kinds of weird places with Katsumi.

Kureha and Kosho are French Brown dairy cows. They are very demanding when it’s milking days.

Doyle is a Cochin chicken (rooster). He’s a scrappy little thing. Him and Katsumi fight for your attention a lot of the time.

Sikorsky is a Russian red fox that lurks in the forests and constantly tries to steal chickens and eggs from you (Gaia chases him off a lot). Sometimes you leave eggs for him on the edge of the property

Gaia is a miniature donkey that protects your livestock better than Baki does.

Doppo and Natsue are swans that decided to permanently stay on your property. They also adopted Katsumi

Oliva is a Black Welsh Mountain Sheep. He loves being sheered and he takes excellent care of his fleece for you.

Muhammed Ali Jr is a border collie that you adopted from the shelter. Baki and him hate each other.

Kozue is a Holland Hop bunny that lives in your house with you. You don’t ever let her out of your sight.

[lostlegendaerie]

Backyard Chickens: A Master Post

So you want your own little dinosaurs to eat your table scraps and make breakfast for you in the sunny months. Well! I am here to provide a quick starter to getting your own flock set up - and yes, for urban chickens as well.

Things to consider:

What can you have? Local laws usually dictate how many chickens can be kept per household/acre. Laws can vary by state and city. Look this up first. You can usually keep more bantams (miniature chickens) than their full-size cousins, and with chickens being so social I do recommend bantams for urban/suburban yards.

What weather will they be exposed to? Indoor chickens can generate a lot of dust, but small outdoor coops can be difficult to heat safely. Dual purpose breeds are usually more cold-hardy than layer varieties, and everybody likes fresh water and shade in the heat. Frozen water bottles left outside to thaw can keep birds cool, too.

What will eat them? I have had little losses to foxes, personally, and more to neighborhood dogs. Raccoons are nearly everywhere in North America and will tear open fences to eat your babies. (I would know. I've had to deal with the aftermath.) Rabbit hutches are a good starter for bantams, but a good coop made of wood and a yard made of hardware cloth or dog fence panels (and with netting on top for hawks/owls) will keep out most things. Weasels/mink will fit through gaps bigger than an inch, so be careful of that, too.

What do they need? Chickens love to scratch and forage (and some can fly short distances and modest heights) so if you're letting them on the lawn be prepared for them to eat it - no pesticides on that turf! At night, they prefer to sleep on perches/something with a bit of height to it and do best locked in their coop where other critters can't eat them. A place to nest and lay their eggs in their coop (otherwise they will find their own little secret place, God help you find it) and a place to dust-bathe (like chinchillas) to help keep mites and lice out of their feathers. They'll also need some grit and calcium - crushed oyster shell (or their own eggshells) will help.

Where can I get them? Many farm and feed stores like Tractor Supply Company will sell baby chicks during the spring, but if you're looking for specific bantams or unusual breeds I recommend checking out your State Fair or a Poultry Association show [American version located here] and check it out. They're free admission, generally, and almost every show has people who bring birds to sell. While the demographics tend to slant pretty "red" I have seen plenty of blue hair and pronouns at poultry shows. Facebook can also be a great resource.

How do I get everyone to get along? Chickens are notoriously territorial, with a vicious pecking order that make Mean Girls a documentary. Chickens who are raised from chicks together will get along best, but if you need to add more I would introduce two or more at a time (so the newbies have a friend) and put them in a nearby yard/cage for a few days until everyone has worked out their opinions through the bars of a cage. Some breeds are sweeter than others (buff orpington) and some are.... spicy (Plymouth rocks).

Saro's Personal Breed Recommendations

Dual Purpose (cold weather) - Black Australorps , Buff Orpington, New Hampshire Reds are all generally pretty good natured and calm. The platonic ideal of a chicken.

Layer breeds (warm weather) - Leghorns are the go-to, but I have a soft spot for Hamburg as well. And of course, who wouldn't love a chicken who lays dark brown (Marans) or green/blue (Ameraucauna) eggs?

Bantams - D'Anvers with their little beards are my all time favorite and have the biggest personalities in my experience, but Old English Game (even more zippity) and Black Sumatras (all black, even down to the skin, and shockingly calm in hand) are high on the list as well. And everyone loves the fluffy-faced Silkie or feather footed Cochin.

Hopefully this is enough to get you started! Feel free to send me questions or add on with a couple of your own tips (especially non-US people and those with indoor chickens). I've been raising them for eggs, pets, and for show since 2005, but I am always eager to learn.