#macrodatum

[thesecretgoal]

Nikon D7200

Nikon 50mm af-d (1995)

1/400 F5 ISO 200

.

.

.

.

I tronchi degli alberi sono separati, ma le radici si tengono strette le une alle altre e i rami in alto si intrecciano. Sono uniti a livello profondo ed a quello più elevato. Gli uomini dovrebbero essere come un’immensa foresta.

.

The trunks of the trees are separate, but the roots hold each other tightly and the branches above are intertwined. They are united at the deepest level and at the highest. Men should be like a vast forest.

.

[whatthefuckdidido]

@macrodatum asked:

Setting his hand atop the bar, Mark leaned against it and cocked his head as he looked down at the cop on the stool. "Don't tell me you're out here alone." There were warning bells in Mark's head-- the guy looked over a decade older than him, he had a fucking uniform on, and he was certainly drinking his fucking weight. If being police wasn't enough of a deterrent, the risk of him being an angry alcoholic was... but the guy was cute, and Mark watched his friend leave him behind, and surely the whole point of going to college outside PE was that he could make mistakes without Devon judging him. "Let me buy you a drink, man." He smiled, pretending there wasn't a whole stack of books waiting to be read at his dorm. "Cops celebrate on Fridays too, right?"

It takes Jimmy an embarrassingly long moment to realize that the stranger's talking to him, and it's only confirmed fully when Jimmy looks around at the people- or lack there of- behind him. He'll blame it on the fact he's already three beers in, but the truth of the matter is he's not used to anyone randomly striking up conversation with him at a bar other than some chick looking for a one night stand from him.

"'m not the person to help you get out of a ticket if that's what you're after," Jimmy states bluntly, figuring there's got to be some sort of ulterior motive for some young guy to offer to buy him a drink. "Besides, even if I was, it's not exactly good to be bribing an officer."

He pauses and shrugs a slight grin tugging at his lips. "But then I'm never one to turn down a drink."

[thisiamowed]

for @macrodatum —

She should have been asleep hours ago. Curled up in their bed, cozy, and with her hand cradling her bump on top of the covers. The smell of him, embedded deep into the fabric of the shirt she had plucked off of the floor to wear after he discarded it, ought to have helped. Instead, Harmony's mind was spinning — packed full with questions that could only be answered one way.

Her nails dug into his arm first. Harmony's initial shake was far gentler than the one that followed. As the force behind her efforts increased, so did her agitation. Eventually, her voice joined, too clear for the time on the clock over his shoulder [ 2:46 a.m. ].

❝Mark — Mark. Wake up . . . !! — Jesus, Mark, this is important.❞

[killjoysanonymous]

@macrodatum gets a random starter !

Life had always felt so nonlinear to her for as long as she could remember. Bits and pieces of life scattered before her eyes and suddenly she was into the next chapter. That was before she met Mark, and in a way she couldn't quite explain, time became a lot easier to understand. Enough time had passed to reassure her too that moving into together was the right step, perhaps too much excitement at the idea of their books stacked together on shelves, united in the same way that they were.

"I think... We need a rug," she walked behind him into the living room, her arms went to wrap around him from behind as she grinned. With ease, she moved under his arm before she glanced upwards toward him. "Spatially it would make this room feel... Correct," a laugh followed after with the phrasing, a smile beamed across her lips.

[eighthourblissa]

@macrodatum was coerced into sending asked: Alpha goes feral for whatever reason, Omega steps in to calm them down before they are tranquilized and taken away. // cobel tells ms. casey to take care of mark s. a couple of days after his severance chip is first put in him

Ms. Casey's seen plenty of newly severed persons react poorly when they wake up and find their minds are a blank slate. Truthfully, it's a fair response to waking up without an identity. Though, in all of the varied reactions she's been made aware of, Mark S.'s appears to be one of the worst.

Making her way to the door, Ms. Casey pauses, her hands folded in front of her abdomen and posture straight as she takes note of her patient for the next thirty minutes.

"Mark S. If you would please calm down, I'd be more than happy to attempt to help you make sense of all of this."

[therapeuticdesires]

@macrodatum

"Look, I don't mean this in a mean or bitchy kind of way," Husik begins as he sets his glass of Cabernet Sauvignon down against the table and leans back in his seat to meet Mark's gaze, "but how the Hell did a woman like your sister end up with Ricken?"

Maybe he shouldn't be talking about this to his best friend's brother after they've only just met earlier in the evening at the foodless dinner that Devon managed to get them both to, but he can't help but try to figure it out.

"I mean, she's so kind and smart and, you know, actually interesting. Yeah, he's nice and definitely intelligent, but when she told me the three beds thing..."

[zimwy]

billiards, pool, snooker, whatever the hell you wanted to call it--there's a radio blinking back at the two of them from the corner, the bar largely unoccupied but for a lonesome old drunk in the corner (he's blind, nursing hard whisky, mumbling some sad recount about the fumes and the lights, whatever that meant). bucky likes this song, but then again, he's sure thousands of people do; dean martin's voice is smooth butter as it spreads over the room, everybody loves somebody sometimes... he cant help but watch mark as he studies the table, moves around the edges a few times, adjusting his angle and the way the cue sat against the bridge of his hand. they're playing a game of eight ball, though bucky thinks of it more like a game held between heavy swigs of gin and tonic. it's his preferred drink, reminds him of one of his few war comforts, unhealthy as that was.

mark's form is good. it's really good. bucky watches him bank ball number three into his predicted pocket (one so close to where barnes stands he feels it vibrate and thud when it lands) via carom shot. bucky makes a soft click of the tongue, a hiss of disappointment, followed by a sharp, impressed whistle.

' show off. ' he jokes, pressing the wide end of his cue into the floor. he leans in a way that angles his hip out, bare muscle from unwounded shoulder to hand flexing. it's his prosthetic that holds the cue. ' y'know, i used to do this for money sometimes. made myself look like a shit player, or like i was drunk, get 'em loose and confident so they'd bet big, then make a hard come back. pool hustling, yeah.. pissed off a few people. had to put a guy in a chokehold once. ' his grin is loose, crooked, still mired in his quiet admiration. ' promise i wont do that to you. '

@macrodatum

[thisiamowed]

from @macrodatum —

drunken kiss, from outie mark. Canon Event

Mark's mouth moved back — just enough to allow Harmony to breathe. Her blue eyes stared up at him, wide. When had she allowed him to loom over her like this ? with her back pressed to the wall of his kitchen, nonetheless.

❝Mark —❞ Harmony's hands touched the top of his throat. The exhalation of his name was deeper in sound, more true to Harmony Cobel than Anna Selvig. She remembered approaching him in his driveway and asking if he was alright. Ever the caring neighbor, so conveniently placed. All Harmony had intended was to get him in bed ( for once an active participant in the miserable game she watched him play almost every weekend ).

You fell, she thought, as the last few moments pieced themselves back together in her head. I wanted you to be safe. Then, you —

Harmony's tongue swiped over her lips, and her mouth flooded with the taste of beer. Both of her thumbs rubbed into the corners of his jaw. ❝Mark, dear — you're confused.❞ There it was : the higher pitch and sweetened words.

Gone were any thoughts of Harmony's teachings, any shred of wisdom from the tomes hidden in her house that she was fond of rewording and spoon - feeding him. All she possessed, here, was concern for the closest thing to a friend she had ever known. The strange desire in her, the sudden lump in her throat, and the way her fingers cupped the base of his skull were unimportant.