#so have this half baked thing

[pebre-con-aji]

you know that trope where a person has a knife/weapon strapped to the thigh under a skirt?

and the other trope, a person with more hidden weapons on them than they could possibly carry?

now, imagine this situation:

the chain in a formal event, they leave their things behind and the one item they have on hand in Wild's slate. Also, Legend is wearing a dress.

suddenly they get attacked but have no weapons, except for Legend, who takes one big ass dagger from under his skirt, two combat knives, probably poisoned throwing blades, etc.

badassery ensues

[heartbreak-sandwich]

Because I can't stop thinking about Billy eating you out on the hood of his Camaro at Lover's Lake in the middle of the night when no one else is around (thanks Billy anon 🫠) NSFW incoming ~

Billy was shocked that you didn't have to sneak out your window or side door with how late it was. He picked you up at your front door with the porch light still on, and the look on his face when he laid eyes on you said it all. The two of you sped straight toward Lover's Lake...

The sound of your heavy panting drowned out the crickets and the frogs and harmonized perfectly with the soft humming of the radio inside Billy's Camaro.

The car's hood was only slightly chilly against your exposed skin, just barely resting on it now as Billy's warm, veined hands pressed your thighs back further, your knees bent against your chest, hips spread open wide for his ease of access.

You were overcome with every sensation as Billy pushed you closer and closer to the edge of cumming all over his velvet tongue. He licked, and sucked, and growled softly at the taste of you, only taking a break once to smirk up at you, your slick shining in the moonlight as it dripped down his chin.

"You're making a real mess, you know that? One more drip on the hood of this car, and we just might have a problem."

You whimpered softly at his husky words which hung in the air and sprinkled down around you like golden confetti as he dove back in, quickening the pace of his tongue against your swollen clit.

We just might have a problem.

You didn't know what that meant, but you were sure it would be be succulent torture for you, and you wanted it more than anything in that moment. Feeling your stomach tighten, you tangled your fingers into Billy's curls, pushing him further into your desperate pussy, grinding your hips into his tongue over and over again until you couldn't stay quiet anymore.

"I -- I'm gonna cum," you almost whispered as it hit you. Your vision went white, and you felt a familiar explosion hit your core. To your surprise, Billy thrust two fingers into you as he sucked harder on your clit, and you let out a high pitched moan as your back arched and your head dropped back against the hood of the car.

If there was pain, you didn't notice. Every color blended into the next as you rode out your orgasm, barely able to make out the sweet sounds emanating from Billy as he cleaned up every last drop from between your legs.

Still breathing heavy, staring up at the sparkling night sky, you felt a hand smooth your hair away from your eyes.

"You okay?" Billy's cerulean eyes examined your face as he let his thumb glide down your cheek.

"Never been better," you replied, still trying to steady your breathing.

Billy smirked down at you with a scoff. "Good. Now, about that mess..."

[moonilit]

Thinking about these two beautiful strong ladies becoming best friends 💙🤎

*psst* chapter 19

[comraderoscoes]

something something rain jacket acting as a comfort blanket

+

[mishy-mashy]

Just wanted to compare Midoriya and AFO in panels (DFO stuff) from different fights. Again, small things I thought were at least worth noticing

Midoriya's panels come from when Dabi told the world about Endeavor and their family situation, as they were fighting. This was back when Shigaraki was broken from his tube prematurely.

AFO's is when Bakugo aborted him.

First, the insistence of moving forward, even if their limbs are weak or won't work as well as before.

Then the fact they both came up with using a Quirk like this (below), from desperation. Who cares if their bodies won't work? They have Quirks they can fall back on.

And are both thwarted by someone who has a combustion Quirk (flames VS explosions), in a fight that boils down to family and brother problems for the Villain.

And something different from these two events, I'm gonna move to when Bakugo fought Midoriya past curfew, and when All Might faced AFO in Kamino,

When both want to win, they start spewing insults. AFO insults people to get an opening and win. Midoriya does it when he wants to win more than save.

Midoriya knows it's gross to say he thinks like that, but Bakugo is his image of victory. Meanwhile, All Might is an image of victory to Japan; and AFO gains an edge when he can rile up that symbol of victory (peace).

Or maybe AFO just riles up OFA users in general. From All Might, to calling Midoriya useless in front of Nana and Yoichi..

Either way, AFO likes to talk shit, and it trips up people. And he does this so he can win. He does it logically, but it also happens when he gets riled up, like when he ate Tenko (418) (get your head out of the gutter).

Midoriya spews insults naturally when he wants to win, when he wants to win more than he wants to save.

They think alike, is all. Both thought of using their Quirks through their mouth when their bodies weren't enough (innovation with Quirks that aren't originally theirs), and when they want to win, they insult their opponent.

[house-of-daena]

Imagine walking in on Zhongli fucking Baizhu in his ass and just being like "Pleasing yourselves without my permission? How naughty.." and then proceeding to fuck them stupid as punishment. overstimulating Baizhu while Zhongli watches and Zhongli with his hands tied behind his back so he can't pleasure himself, making him beg to cum even once while Baizhu's came like 17 times. Then once satisfied with the begging finally fucking Zhongli until you're both satisfied<333

-Skin

ohhh i can imagine 😋

punishing them both for having fun w/o you... fucking baizhu until he can't cum anymore, voice raspy, face wet with tears as his cock pathetically twitches against his slick tummy covered in his juices... he's weakling holding onto his, his thighs trembling and he could barely feel his lower half,,, he's still sooo pretty, drool dribbling down his chin, jolting when your fingers brush on his oversensitive dick.

while zhongli doesn't get anything. he just watches as he's knelt on the floor, arms tied, cock throbbing so painfully. he wants to beg you to let him cum, but you told him specifically to not say a single word or you'll think of a more befitting punishment for his misbehavior. make zhongli fuck baizhu between his thighs, the doctor biting his bottom lip the way zhongli's cock thrust against his skin, so hot and big. then forcing him to stop moving once he's close... 💞

[varilien]

welp that's a wrap for this year ig. it's funny i think this year would have been another oops all trigun except that whenever i got really super busy FAR too busy to make trigun art i did usually end up doodling something else lmao

december's spot is @stardvst-diving's lysithea :)

[macdenlover]

.

[milkweedman]

Fig and apple pie with pecan-cardamom crust. The figs and the apples were both foraged, which is always fun. Smells super good !

It was supposed to be in a pie tin, but I had 3/4 of a pound of figs rather than the half pound the recipe called for. And then needing to scale the recipe complicated the already confusing situation of reading while dyslexic. So I largely gave up on reading, and this is more inspired by the recipe than anything else, but here it is nonetheless: Fig, Apple, and Walnut Tarts. Anyway, it ended up too big to fit in a pie tin, hence the cobbler dish.

[strangefable]

WIP Poll - tagged by @adelaidedrubman, @inafieldofdaisies, @direwombat, and @jillvalentinesday, thank you lovelies <3 <3 <3

Rules: Make a 24-hour poll with the names of your wips, let it run, then write one sentence for every vote the winner received.

i have considerably more wips than i could include here, so this is just a random selection tbh

passing some (no pressure) tags along: @thisisrigged4, @voidika, @v0idbuggy, @marivenah, @dumbassdep, @wrathfulrook, @cassietrn, @josephseedismyfather, @mars-colony, @foibles-fables, @poisonedtruth, @trench-rot, @shallow-gravy, @florbelles, @unholymilf, @chazz-anova, @aceghosts, @gayafsatan, @henbased, @funkypoacher, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @incognito-insomniac, @roofgeese, @turbo-virgins, @legally-a-bastard, @strafethesesinners, @vampireninjabunnies-blog, @peppertheferalraccoon, @confidentandgood, @the-lastcall, @clonesupport, @fourlittleseedlings, @kittiofdoom, @g0dspeeed, @theelderhazelnut, and anyone else i've still managed to forget <3

[englass]

Plains and Valleys

Pairing(s): John Seed x Deputy/Reader

Warning(s): John is his own warning; Possessive/Obsessive Behaviour; John being creepy; Stalking; kind-of Crack, this isn’t taken all that seriously; Not Beta’d; Experimental Piece; NSFW/Explicit, my first (and likely only) attempt at smut -- please kindly let me know if there’s anything else I should warn of here, I don’t know what I’m doing.

Word Count: 4,020

A/N(s): The title is basically a placeholder for while I was writing this because I had no idea what to name it... and truly, I can’t be asked to think of something better for a piece that only exists to see if I can write smut (spoilers: I can’t, but I’m not letting a completed piece rot away in my docs just because I’m embarrassed; I worked and spent time on this damnit!).

On another note, I was gonna just give this piece over as my contribution to WIP day that @derelictheretic was kind enough to tag me in, but decided against it. I’ll post a proper response and WIP later this week or next, so bear with me please hun! Just wanted to get this out there first.

- - -

John had a problem.

Well, he had many problems. Not least of all his growing frustration at the continued resistance from the Fairgraves' in his pursuit for the deed to their ‘establishment’. He also had been unable to play with Affirmation as regularly as he would have liked, so that put him in an even fouler mood than usual. And he wasn't going to even think about the stress he was starting to feel with his brother constantly breathing down his neck; always questioning his actions as though he were a child constantly getting into trouble and needing twenty-four hour monitoring, always asking after the progress of things that take time. A lot of time.

John may have a substantial amount of money at his disposal, but that does not mean he can work miracles.

Not all of the time, at least.

And his problems don’t stop there, oh no. Despite what many likely thought of him (and what a stroke to his ego that is, knowing that people think of him) John was well aware of his problems, his faults. He’d spent a lot of time getting intimate with them, after all; and every now and again they'd crop up like daisies, weeding their way to the surface yet again. He’d become rather good at managing them, if he said so himself, but even John wasn’t perfect (he was damn close to it though, as many would agree). And one fault he hadn’t quite been able to trim back was his tendency to fixate on things; obsess. 

He obsesses over his plane, over its upkeep and maintenance, its flight records, the slightest scratch that wasn't there the day before-- how the fuck did that get there!?

He obsesses over the details on the manifestos he’s given, the contracts he’s made, dates and times for resource collection, rotations, their members' personal records (he denies having those), PR management, expenditures and everything in between. 

He obsesses over his home, the décor, the colours and lighting, materials used, the whole aesthetic. How he presents himself, the clothes and brands he wears (it’s vain but he needs those creature comforts), his posture, his presence, his overall look that creates an identity that just screams nothing but John.

He obsesses over things.

He knows he does. It’s a faulty blessing.

And he has found something new to obsess over.

John has had a few run-ins with the local Deputies of Hope County in the past. Mostly Joey Hudson, delightful as she is, but ordinarily he doesn’t think too much of them. After all, he’s untouchable and they all know it. There’s no reason to worry about them, let alone waste his precious free time (what little he gets of it) thinking about them. They’re insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Nothing but an inconvenience, an annoyance at most. Completely irrelevant.

But then he saw her.

Standing there, innocuous, looking out at something (for something? Nothing?) in the distance. 

There’s a hitch, the catch of a stilted breath.

Where they were keeping her hidden he has no idea, but he is taken the moment he catches that rogue glance of her.

And, strangely, he doesn't know why.

Sure, John and his brothers have been in this County for a good while now and he has never seen her before, so it’s perfectly normal for him to be curious about the unfamiliar face in town. Nothing wrong with that, it’s innocent enough.

Except there’s everything wrong with that.

Because that’s not it.

He can’t even blame his wandering eyes on her appearance; she’s wearing that drab uniform that even a charity shop wouldn’t take, and it does nothing to enhance whatever natural beauty she may have hidden underneath it. Although, the girl-next-door look she gives off is begrudgingly cute (if he dared to utter the word unironically).

Honestly, she’s not the type of woman that he typically would have paid any special attention to back in his lawyer days. Fucked her stupid maybe, for the extra notch in his bedpost, but he likely wouldn’t have taken her number or thought too much about her afterwards. Relegated to just another lay in a long line of bed partners that he doesn’t remember all the names of.

To be blunt, she isn’t anything special.

And maybe that’s part of the appeal, what hooks him in. Because she is different; unassuming and uncomplicated, modest to a point of simplicity. And yet there is something about her that he can’t actively see or name from his spot across the street that has drawn him in without even trying. And he doesn’t know what or why.

It’s as infuriating as it is intriguing.

Perhaps there is some iota of truth in what Joseph had said to him a while ago, John supposed silently to himself at the time: the simplest of things can be beautiful, in their own unconventional ways.

Although his brother could have said as much with far less words, verses, and vague allusions to a potential future that might never be-- a spark of sudden change that sets a new course in motion; scales tipped by the most consuming of emotions; scorched by a soul so deceptively unremarkable that no one would have thought to believe just how uniquely special they would become--

…

…… 

… Huh… 

John creates a special slot in his increasingly hectic schedule just for her from then on out.

He goes out of his way to find more reasons to harass and bother the local population, all in a fruitless attempt to get lucky and have her answer their call for aid and come and tell him what a bad boy he’s being. (Annoyingly she never turns up, though.)

He makes calls and pulls some strings to the businesses he’s procured, makes inquiries to anyone that would listen to him, including those doing menial tasks or even going through their Atonement (they don’t understand the relevancy of his questioning and he may have been a little harsher with them than he should’ve been because of it), and all in the name of his personal investigation into her.

After all, he had argued to himself in front of a cork board covered with documents and pictures of her with a feverish flavour, what sort of Herald would he be if he didn't know everything about everyone living in his-- their, his and his brothers, soon-to-be County?

His invasive and not completely legal search into this new Deputy (and she is new it turns out, freshly transferred in fact) goes on for a full, nonstop month before -- during one of his totally-random-and-not-planned stops into town -- he discovers something else about her.

When he first saw his Deputy (and doesn’t that feel good to say) she was alone, leaning against the wooden beam of the Sheriff’s Department’s porch and staring out into the distant fields; the late afternoon sun haloing her figure in its golden warmth, its light making the colour of her eyes blaze bright and her hair shine silkily. The perfect picture of ease.

This time, when he finally manages to spy another in-person look at her, he finds that she has company. She’s standing next to the ever friendly Hudson, posture held strong by an understated confidence and arms casually crossed beneath her bust, an amused smile on her decidedly pretty face as Hudson talks animatedly about something that he can’t hear.

And she’s looking up at her.

John blinks, and blinks again.

He’s definitely seen her file, he even remembers glossing through her medical records (which he would most assuredly deny having if anyone asked), so he knows how tall she is. But for some reason it apparently hadn’t quite registered to him until now what that would look like in a physical comparison between the two of them.

He knows that the lovely Hudson is a couple of inches shorter than him, not too far off from meeting him eye-to-eye. His Deputy, from what he can see, is about a full head shorter than Hudson. Which would put her, what, roughly just about eye-to-chest with him...?

He thinks about it. Thinks about her next to him, imagines what that would look like. Thoughts surprisingly innocent as he wonders after clichés of reaching for something that she can’t reach, of cocooning her in his arms as he effortlessly wrangles her into his lap. Envisions the domesticity of easily resting his head on top of hers as he holds her from behind, slotting himself into the mould of her figure like matching puzzle pieces, perfectly meant to be and belong… 

A high pitched, shaky sound slips free at the mental reel.

It’s not a secret the type of life that John used to live. He has been with numerous types of women, something he used to take a great deal of pride in, and has indulged in and explored his fair share of kinks in the comfort of expensive silk sheets. But who would have guessed that the former playboy, John Duncan now John Seed, would have a thing for domestic bliss.

Or rather, domestic bliss with little. ol’. her.

John makes the executive decision then and there to talk to his Deputy as soon as possible. Preferably alone. Without interference.

It feels like forever before he gets the opportunity.

A week later, on a daily walk through Falls End that has only admittedly become a thing in order to check up on the lucky woman of his blazing affections (I am not stalking her, Jacob, he had grounded out menacingly to his accusing older brother over Sunday dinner; who proceeded to look on at John with a slow quirk of an eyebrow), he finds his ever elusive Deputy resting around the corner of the Sheriff’s Department’s building. Eyes closed, head down, arms crossed, and safely concealed in the shade; unsuspectingly calm in her desired time alone.

And John is quick to ruin it.

He can’t help himself, he really can’t. The opportunity is here and he would be remiss to let it pass him by.

Even if she does look rather serene.

He's seen a few photos of her, more than a few actually-- albums worth even, so he knows what she looks like up close. He even printed one out (it’s a favourite of his, a near perfect replica of the first time he saw her) and has it framed on his bedside table; but it turns out no amount of photos quite do the real her justice.

The closer he gets to her the more he notices how petite she is, how the loose yet deceptively form-fitting hug of her bland uniform subtly accentuates the curves and slopes of her modest figure; the daintiness of her fingers as they rest against the exposed, smooth skin of her arms; that familiar magnetic draw snapping to life in the colour of her eyes as they lazily open, sparkling as he gets closer and she looks up at him, wide and wondering.

Innocent.

Oh, he was so wrong about her, he realises wondrously. Did her such a disservice in his initial judgement of her all those weeks ago. She is far from average.

And being here in front of her, close enough to touch, to be able to easily reach out and trap her against the wall and between his arms if he so wanted to, safely protected under the cage of his form -- her neck craning back in order to comfortably gaze up at him, meeting his eyes as he stares down at her… 

It makes something inside him go wild.

John lays the charm on quick and swift, hand attractively running through his hair as a practised but handsome smile lights up his face, eyes twinkling through his lidded gaze with an aweing hunger he knows he is failing to keep hidden.

Getting the first word in, he leans close to the wall, not quite putting his full weight against it (his shirt was expensive) but close enough to allow him a moment of privacy with her by limiting her field of view to only him. Blocking out everyone-- everything else with his taller frame (and doesn’t that thought spark a sudden twitch of interest) as he eagerly monopolises her attention.

Daringly he edges further into her space while he talks ardently to her, truly basking in the unexpected pleasure he gets in watching her unintentionally baring her neck to him; being so beautifully submissive for him without consciously realising it. Amusement colouring his tone in pale notes as he watches the way her pretty eyes darken and narrow at his progressive disturbance and invasion of her time and space.

Fuck. He didn’t know it would be this intoxicating to be so close to her.

Even as he dances through conversation with playful words and hinting remarks, becomes enamoured by the soothing intonation of her voice as she is dragged along with guarded comments and wary retorts, he can’t stop the way his mind ever so sinfully wanders… 

It really would be so easy to have her up against this wall. To crowd her in with his frame on all sides and her vision filled with nothing but him. The centre of her universe and attention, him; and his hers. The concept of that sort of all-encompassing intimacy and devotion makes John shudder. Hungry all the more for it and the woman that has unknowingly given him a taste of what it could all be and become, of what that level of pure, unadulterated want is inspiring in him.

He could easily have her against this wall. Have her looking directly skyward up at him as if he were her moon and stars, as he looks directly down at her-- his entire world and more.

Snatch her thigh and hoist it up towards his waist. Have her balancing precariously on the tips of her toes and clutching desperately at him, trusting John to help hold and support her and keep her steady as he shields her from the world around them. Hides her away from the unworthy just as the unworthy have hidden her away from him. His lips sweetly latching onto hers, her taste finally on his tongue after all these weeks of wanting, involuntarily grounding his hips into hers as a desperate sound breaks within his throat.

Oh, John can visualise it now: the two of them breathing in each other's air, bodies flush as he tugs and pushes closer, her shirt riding up as it's snagged by the rough brickwork at her back, arching into him on an unsteady foot to escape its harsh bite. Teeth nipping teasingly at her lips and tongue licking moreishly into her mouth as his free hand roams down her stomach, pulls the rest of her shirt loose and fumbles in his eagerness with the buttons of her jeans, yanking the zipper down and shoving his hand below the waistband and into her underwear. Hearing her whine sweetly into his mouth as he feels just how wet she is for him, how much she wants him and how eagerly she welcomes him into her as he plunges his fingers into her slick cunt with a needy and quaking moan of his own. 

Would she want it quick and rough? His fingers thrusting knuckle deep as he presses tight circles to her throbbing clit, teeth at her throat as he claws into her thigh held tightly in the dip of his waist. Listening to how her moans get higher, her breathing gets quicker, turning into desperate little gasps before he tugs his fingers free of her; lips devouring hers in quick apology as he battles to pull his aching cock free, cursing lowly against her lips as his slick covered fingers slip on the metal of his belt. She’d help him, he knows she would -- such a good girl --, nipping and kissing him back with wanton sounds as she bats his hand away, revelling in the noises he makes for her -- only for her, only ever for her -- as she pulls him free; rolling her hips until his cock catches on her slit and he’s thrusting home into her.

Only then -- while feeling her walls flex around him, mouth hanging open as they both bask in finally, finally being so intimately connected to one another -- would he finally hike her other leg up to wrap fully around his waist, fully supporting her weight and driving himself deeper into her, one of his arms coming up to press into the wall beside her, hand caringly slipping behind her head; bracketing her in. Shivering as her breath warms his neck and she cries out for him.

And considering her height… fuck, he can only imagine just how tight she’d be for him, chocking his cock as she squeezes him, milking him for all he’s worth until his teeth are stained red against her lovingly maimed neck. His hips snapping into hers with a guttural growl, panting sensual snarls of encouragement into her ear as he demands and begs in equal measure that she touch herself for him, dexterous fingers chasing her end as he chases his own until-- she’s coming around him with a high and shuddery keen. Her soft walls sucking him deeper into her, legs locking tighter around his waist and keeping him there as he spills himself into the back of her hot cunt with a strangled moan. Claiming her as his as he presses in closer, plugging her full with his cock and cum and praying that it’ll take-- 

…

……

… Huh.

He will definitely be exploring that at a later date…

Or perhaps she wouldn’t want it like that. Wouldn’t want him to be so rough and careless with her. Maybe she would want him to go slower, to be gentle-- to be good for her, to take his time and truly enjoy and appreciate every sweet beg and whimper that falls from her perfect lips. Perhaps she wouldn’t want to fuck him at the back of her shabby place of work, or even anywhere out in the open; maybe she would prefer privacy, for him to make love to her. Would want him to steal her away into his home, to carefully lay her out on his bed and unwrap her like a delicate gift, hands tracing teasing paths along her body before spreading her wide for his tasting pleasures. Taking his time to truly savour her unique flavour on his palette, wanton sounds pressed into sensitive flesh as he takes her throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks.

Broad strokes of his skilled tongue parting her lips and drinking her down, fingers firm as they hold onto the soft meat of her thighs and hips, thumbs rubbing soothing motions into her skin as he opens her up for him. Urges her with hot breathes, praising words, the flick of his tongue and the dip of his fingers into her wet heat, to cum for him; pleads with sound and touch and a greedy haze over his lust-darkened eyes. The gravel in his gluttonous voice vibrating into her, in love with how she reaches and cries out for him as he tells her how good she’s being for him, how badly he needs her to cum for him-- a debauched sound choking out of him as she does. Completely enraptured as she reaches the height of pleasure -- pleasure he brought her, that he will always strive to bring her --, bearing witness to his own personal God-given vision as he watches her writhe against his sheets and listens to her songs of praise, easing her down from that divine high and back into his devoted embrace.

Kissing a line up to her bitten lips, answering her mewls with soft coos and grounding touches, brushing over a nipple before taking the perky flesh into his mouth with a brief suck and fleeting skim of teeth, letting go with a lingering kiss before moving across and repeating the process to its twin. Reluctantly drawing away to playfully nip and press wet kisses into the column of her throat before letting her taste the tanginess of her juices on his tongue. Languidly kissing as he strokes her sides, writing indecipherable words of affection into her skin, content to let her enjoy the bliss of post-orgasm before he slowly pulls away, descending back down the line of her body with a husky, ‘one more, just one more for me, darling...’ 

John knows he wouldn’t stop at just ‘one more’ though. Hopefully she’d be generous enough to give him a few more before he finally slakes his need for her.

And hopefully she doesn't see the hard-on he’s now sporting after such vivid fantasies.

In a particularly bold move, temptation spurred into a fever from improper imaginings, John reaches for her; fixates on a strand of hair that has become untucked from behind her ear. She tenses, muscles coiling tight as she gives him the most suspicious look somebody has ever given him before. He’s actually rather offended. And very hurt.

But it’s sobering, in its own way. Because suddenly he can hear Joseph’s voice in his head from last Sunday (what a turn-off…), advising him that if he wanted to pursue a relationship with this Deputy that he was so smitten with then he needed to be gentle, considerate.

John may have done his ‘research’ on her, extensively so, but that did not mean that he was entitled or even deserving of her affections. He could not expect her to be on the same page as him, especially considering he had yet to even interact with her at that point. She may not have even heard of him yet, Joseph had speculated-- John and Jacob quietly sharing a disbelieving look. Everyone in the County knew their names, and with her being a Deputy there was no way she hadn’t heard of them.

Regardless, Joseph’s point still stood: if John wanted a genuine chance with her then he needed to soften himself, to be delicate, more tactful with her. Demonstrate that he can hear and see her for all that she is and can be, and that he accepts her without reservation.

Think of it like Atonement, Joseph had supplied sagely, fingers steepled, she needs to willingly give her confession over to you, John. Her affections. You can’t just take them.

And to Joseph’s credit, that actually made sense to John.

Atonement was all about accepting one’s sins, confessing them to another whom they trusted would never condemn nor judge them for their past actions or choices; unburdening themselves so they may be reborn pure and untainted for the hopeful future ahead of them. In that regard, his pursuit of his Deputy wasn’t too dissimilar.

So in that brief moment, in that flash of hurt as she steels herself against his considerate gesture and where John remembers Joseph’s words, he pauses. Convinces himself to go slower, to not try to grab at her like a spoiled brat reaching for things that weren't his-- yet. Reigns himself in enough so he doesn’t give her anymore of a reason to potentially be wary of him, to which he has very likely just given her quite a few. Trying in his own distinct way to smooth over her obvious distrust of him.

John knows he’s made mistakes throughout his life. Many would say he’s not a good man, and he wouldn’t necessarily disagree with them. But seeing and learning of her, of recalling his brother’s words and advice, of the many fantasies he’s had before and even during meeting her in this moment, he thinks he could change that. Knows that, if she would have him, if she gave him the chance, he’d be good. He’d be good for her.

Joseph always talks about love, about the power and control it wields over people and-- admittedly, John doesn’t completely get it. 

But with her? For her? He thinks he just might.

… 

He thinks he already does.

[teaandinanity]

Man, the thing about very twisty mountain roads is that sometimes you come around a bend and there's just an Unexpected Object In Your Fuckin' Lane, right there.

This happened to me THREE TIMES coming back from the grocery store.

The bicyclist was insane, speed limit is 55, there's fuckall visibility and apocalyptic grades that HAVE to make your whole entire leg want to fall off, lanes are narrow, there's no shoulder and nowhere to go if a car does decide 'fuck sharing the road'. The guy coming the other way who slowed down so I had to almost come to a stop to wait for him to pass before I could slide halfway into the other lane to go around said cyclist with actual clearance rather than running them over had me like 'sir why have you chosen to make my life harder and worse. FOOT OFF THE BRAKE. MOVE.' Cyclist was on my side of the road going my direction so I'm not sure what his damage was or if he was just choosing violence.

The turkey was cute but also I hope it moved because immediately after I saw it I saw a truck coming the other direction around yet another blind curve.

And then I came around a bend to the mail jeep half in the other lane and a goddamn hauler truck full of logs fully in MY lane coming towards me and I went,

'This is the universe telling me I should drive less and appreciate being alive more, huh.'

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

everytime i take a tiny triangle out of the cake i made my brother comes in and cuts off a trapezium, making the cut a single clean line. it would be vaguely funny but like i made the thing and like could he not eat it all without leaving some for me

[chilipepperconverse]

im no letterboxd user but i Am a lesbian who enjoys historical romance and paleontology so no one is in any way surprised that i am indeed very normal about ammonite (2020)

[haemosexuality]

parents be like, i understand that signs of depression include things like having difficulty leaving the bed/house, general lack of energy, messed up sleep schedule, not eating etc. not my daughter tho she does all that because she wants to and bc shes lazy