Never again need you be gloomy about your lack of knowledge on griffins with your morning coffee”

Woop! GRIFFIN MUG. I’m sharing all the information* I’ve gathered about them through my lifelong obsession.

AND there’s free shipping at the moment! Neato! Click for free shipping awesome mug.


Onto more mugs!

*What I could fit on the mug. Didn’t even get onto the Arimaspi.


The Vitruvian Man is a drawing created by Leonardo da Vinci circa 1490. The drawing, which is in pen and ink on paper, depicts a male figure in two superimposed positions with his arms and legs apart and simultaneously inscribed in a circle and square. The drawing is based on the correlations of ideal human proportions with geometry described by the ancient Roman architect Vitruvius in Book III of his treatise De Architectura. Vitruvius described the human figure as being the principal source of proportion among the Classical orders of architecture. Vitruvius determined that the ideal body should be eight heads high. Leonardo’s drawing is traditionally named in honor of the architect. 

John Quigley. Hired by Greenpeace to raise awareness of the melting sea ice, Quigley and a team of volunteers laid out the Vitruvian Man using flattened copper. The overall size of the piece is larger than four Olympic-sized swimming pools.


MMFD Fic: Crawling through the blinds

SURPRISE SEQUEL to my last story (I rise as the morning comes), for adaftmyriad, who demanded it :P 

Finn’s spare bed is massive compared to hers, and the sheets are crisp and cool as she clambers into them just after half past five. The sun is streaming through the linen curtains but she has no trouble drifting quickly into sleep.

She is aware faintly of a soft pressure on her arm, a gentle push and someone saying her name. Her dreams aren’t normally like this.

“Rae.” He says, and she realises that it is Finn’s voice she can hear. Sleepily she admits to herself that, ok, sometimes her dreams are like this. She smiles and hums a happy sigh, settling into the pillow, ready for whatever pleasures may await her.

But nothing happens, only the repeated pressure on her arm and him saying her name again and again, and she eventually realises, while her brain is still defogging itself, that this isn’t a dream at all.

Slowly she blinks awake and he is there. Definitely not a dream.

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MMFD Fic - A Friend Who's Dressed in Leather 3/3

So, this is finished. This part is much shorter, and I suppose technically there could be more, but I feel like after this point Finn’s intentions and feelings become pretty clear and I think that would make the whole “inner monologue” thing boring. This was about trying to get in his head before we were able, and I hope I’ve done that satisfactorily. Sorry for it taking forever, shit went down. But I hope you enjoy it now. 

Special thanks to endemictoearth, who is my greatest cheerleader. This is for you my dear. 


This was perfect. Finn didn’t think he’d ever had a more perfect day. Minute. Moment.

The sun was hot, blazing down onto Rutland, interspersed with patches of cool shade from the trees or the old brick supports they were sat between. The grass was practically burning, dry and crisp, all wilted yellow with the scent of crumbling mud beneath. Everyone smelled like sweat and beer and Marlborough Reds, candy necklaces and vinegar from the chips they’d gotten for lunch.

He felt good. Really good, for the first time in days really. Sun shining, birds singing, mates laughing. Perfect.

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A friend who's dressed in leather 1/3


About a million years ago I asked for prompts, and this was one of them. I’m counting this as another variation on the rave (in its entirety, this chapter is not rave based). Also, I stole the title from Pure Morning, the association of which with Rae and Finn I stole from adaftmyriad.

Have a ball, y’all. 

P.S. I am having some trouble with tenses today, if they’re squiffy I apologise!


Maybe, I don’t want to be your friend

Finn smiled to himself as he lay snug on his back in Rae’s bed, the light of the early morning seeping through the thin material of her curtains.

He’d woken with a bit of a start; the room unfamiliar, the sound of someone else’s breath beside him something he wasn’t used to. Turning his head to the side he had recognised the mass of black hair that was all that was visible of a sleeping Rae, and with the realisation that he had been asleep but was now awake came the memory of all that had passed last night, and he had wished he could go back to sleep.

Sleep wouldn’t come, and so he lay there – completely still so as not to wake Rae – and thought about his nan and how he had loved her and how she was gone. Gone.

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