#sit a spell

[chaoticdesertdweller]

[euesworld]

"Share some stares if you care to sit a bunch, or if you care enough, move your lips over hare for a little punch.. a punch of lips that drip to the grass as your clothes drift to the floor, with my hands on your ass and you're begging for more."

Hahahaha.. let's spend some 'time' together - eUë

[queerfolk-western]

“You need any help with all this, friend?" 

Mandy sets the delivery down with a dull thud against the countertop, an armful of melons and two heavy bags straining under the weight of fresh, homegrown fruit. Apples, peaches, limes and lemons, oranges, strawberries… All perfect for fruity cocktail mixes and the limited-time summer drinks Lionel was needing them for. He'd ask every summer, and Mandy said yes so often he made a separate grove just with Lionel in mind. 

"Yeah, actually. If you got a second I reckon I could use some help with cuttin' up all this fruit." 

"Course. Always got a second. You got a knife for me?"

"Always," Lionel says, reaching across the counter and pulling out a knife from the stand, turning it and giving it to his friend by the handle. "Can never have too many a those. What with… all them freaks comin' around lately."

Mandy gives a noncommittal hum, and the conversation between them falls silent as the bartender's comment sparks a shared memory for both men. It's Mandy who speaks up about it first, between pitting peaches. 

"…Been meanin' to talk with you about that." He says. "How you been holdin' anyhow, Liendee?" 

Lionel looks up at the use of his name, his full one, and thinks about his answer over the task of peeling oranges. 

"I been fine." He begins, shrugging with his mouth. "It ain't me I'm worried about. I can hold my own just fine, s'just… I don't wanna drag you all into somethin' nasty again. Like with what happened.. Ah, y'know, last night. That 'incident'." 

Mandy frowns, letting out a quiet sigh through his nose, and he shifts his weight to lean more against the counter in preparation for a long talk.

"Yeah. I know." 

"…How's he been, anyway? Ramsie, I mean. He…"

"He's alright, Liendee. I told you when it happened it was alright. We know it wasn't your fault. He ain't upset with you. It's not like you were the one that done it."

"Still happened in my bar. Thas why I'm upset." He huffs, and Mandy gives another small sigh and a shake of his head in response. 

"Well…"

"It just seem like, y'know, ever since Sheep been gone, more n' more of those nasty ass men decided to show up. I don't know why."

"He's a good deterrent, ain't he?" Mandy chuckles quietly, and Lionel makes a noise of conflicted agreement.

"Yeah, but… I don't wanna rely on him for that. To be some sorta guard dog. He's a friend, not an employee." 

"I don't think he minds all that much, friend." 

"I hope not." 

"No, I mean it." Mandy insists gently, and Lionel glances toward him again, quiet, listening.

"Me an' him… We've got a ritual of sorts, I suppose. We'll meet up at night once the towns gone to sleep to talk, catch up, that sort. And with all the times we've talked, I don't think I've ever heard him complain about bein' a guard dog, as you put it." 

"…He mention it at all?" 

Mandy nods, wiping his hands off on a towel Lionel had given him. 

"Sure. But like I said, it don't seem like he minds it none. In fact, I'd say I think he probably likes it. Makes him feel useful." 

"Useful." 

A nod. 

"One time, he told me, while we were talkin' about our lives n such, that he made a pact with himself a long time ago to be a better man." He says. "A kinder one. You know, he… He still carries a lot of guilt from what he done as a boy. Or, what he had to do. So… I think when you ask or rely on him for somethin' like that, it makes him feel like he's makin' good on that pact. Or useful for something. Worthwhile."

For a while Lionel doesn't say anything, chewing on the inside of his cheek and sighing through his nose once Mandy finishes talking. Stupid damn cowboy…

"…He's a fool. A stupid, nice, fool." 

"He is". 

"That heart of his is gonna lead him to trouble one a these days."

"I know," Mandy says quietly, his tone low with fondness.

"I told him that."

[flora-file]

sit a spell

don't mind that giant agave with plans to draw blood

[baskeigh-ball]

i figured, if i was gonna get back into tumblr, i might as well do it by posting an entirely new thing that's unrelated to literally anything else i've been working on

[oifaaa]

On the topic of Howl's moving castle I still think my absolute favourite moment from the book is when Sophie figures out that not only does Howl know about her curse but also that hes currently listening in to her conversation with the former dog now man and decides to storm back into the castle so she can throw the most potent weedkiller ever made at him

[xxcrumbxx]

Hello hello soo um im still workin on it ,ive been kinda burnt out from it an ik thers no real preshure and im wayyy past valintinse day but heres a wip of those silly lil valintines cards

Also today is my birth day im 22 now so .. Thats a thing. Anyway im planing on making like 3 alternet vershions of eclips 1 with the cannon tipical 2 arm pre decomishion desighn 1 with the 4 armed fannon /cannon design and 1 with the 4 armed ballone world desighn. Probly ganna take a bit but what ever it will be valintine in fuckin may who cares lol

[berryblu-arts]

obsessed w them <3<3<3

[rosy-crow]

So what? The Smash Bros animation wasn’t a joke? He really just sleeps standing up sometimes?? 💀

My son has so many mental illnesses

[cityoftheangelllls]

Enter Magica de Spell!!! (and Poe)

[digitalstowaway]

Modern au where nmj has a cardiac service dog named Baxia

Except Baxia eventually develops anxiety and so nmj has to treat his dog's anxiety disorder

Which in turn makes his own stress levels rise and makes his cardiac problems worse

And then Baxia's anxiety gets worse and you can see where this is going

[cultivating-wildflowers]

“Perhaps it is no wonder that the women were first at the Cradle and last at the Cross. They had never known a man like this Man -- there never has been such another. A prophet and teacher who never nagged at them, never flattered or coaxed or patronised; who never made arch jokes about them, never treated them either as "The women, God help us!" or "The ladies, God bless them!"; who rebuked without querulousness and praised without condescension; who took their questions and arguments seriously; who never mapped out their sphere for them, never urged them to be feminine or jeered at them for being female; who had no axe to grind and no uneasy male dignity to defend; who took them as he found them and was completely unself-conscious. There is no act, no sermon, no parable in the whole Gospel that borrows its pungency from female perversity; nobody could possibly guess from the words and deeds of Jesus that there was anything "funny" about woman's nature.”

Dorothy L. Sayers, Are Women Human?

[unfamiliar-ghostly-system]

Dating Steven Grant Headcanons.

Dating Steven is like being wrapped in the softest, warmest hug; except the hug is from an ancient Egypt loving, sleep-deprived disaster with a heart of gold. He’s endlessly sweet, a little awkward, but so full of love he doesn’t know what to do with it all.

Steven is thoughtful with his gifts - he’s not one to just buy you a gift for the sake of it. 

He makes mental (sometimes physical) notes of your favourites, as well as your dislikes so he knows what to (or not) give you.

If you mention a favourite type of coffee or tea, he will surprise you with it a few weeks later. If you say you don’t like a certain kind of chocolate, he will remember just so he doesn’t buy it for you in the future.

His gifts always have meaning; be it a book on a topic you like, your favourite snack, or something for your hobbies, he is getting you things you genuinely like. 

He’s affectionate - A little awkward about it, but affectionate! 

Steven loves physical touch, he’s not pushy about it, and at times he can be a little awkward about it.

If you’re out and about, chances are you’re hand in hand. At home he’ll drape his arm over your shoulder. He just melts when you kiss him, he’s especially fond of forehead kisses.

There are times when he overthinks it, like when he wants to hold you but he’s not sure if it’s the right time. His hands will hover over you until you smile at him, and tell him to go ahead. 

Steven loves to read to you - he’s got a lot of books, so don’t expect to get bored soon. 

He’ll read anything; history, poetry, mythology, fiction, he’d read anything you’d ask him. His voice is soothing, and he gets into a steady reading rhythm. Although, a couple times with fiction he’s gotten carried away when reading dialogue. 

He is smitten - he is head over heels. 

Steven doesn’t just love you, he adores you. He looks at you and just melts. No matter how long you’re together, this man still gets butterflies.

He’ll be looking at you, and suddenly his eyes will soften, his lips parting like he’s in awe. “I love you,” he’ll whisper, like he can’t quite believe how lucky he is.

When you talk, he listens with his full attention, eyes locked on yours, nodding along. He remembers your stories, asks thoughtful questions, and never makes you feel unheard.

Whatever your dreams are, Steven believes in them wholeheartedly. He hypes you up, encourages you, and reminds you of how talented and amazing you are.

Does not have a poker face – if he’s excited or flustered, you’ll know immediately.

Steven is terrible at hiding his emotions. If he’s planning a surprise you’ll know right away, just by the he gets extra fidgety like he always does when he’s hiding something. 

He is a hopeless romantic – he doesn’t just love love; he lives for it.

Steven believes in grand romantic gestures and quiet moments alike. He’ll plan cozy candlelit dinners, write you love letters (even if you see each other every day), and quote poetry when he’s feeling especially sentimental. He’s the type to dance with you in the living room with no music, just because he can.

He’s unintentionally hilarious – not because he’s trying to be funny, but because he’s so earnest.

His random knowledge rants, his genuine reactions to things, and the way he sometimes over-explains simple concepts make him incredibly endearing. You can’t help but laugh, and he always grins when he realizes he’s made you happy. 

He’s a little chaotic – but it’s part of his charm.

He misplaces things constantly, gets distracted in the middle of tasks, and sometimes forgets what day it is. But he always laughs it off, and you can’t help but find it endearing. He stumbles over his words when he’s nervous, laughs a little too hard at his own jokes, and sometimes trips over his own feet. But it only makes him more charming, because it’s so him.

---------------------

Here are a couple scenarios!

---

You're standing in the kitchen, making lunch, when Steven comes up behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Y'know, Egyptian bread was almost exclusively made from emmer wheat," he started, his voice thoughtful. "It's a hulled wheat-"

You turned your head slightly and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Steven stopped immediately. A quiet dazed "oh" slipped out of his mouth. He's hands, which were resting on your waist, tighten just a fraction.

He sighed, and pressed his forehead against your shoulder.

“Love, you can’t just do that to a man,” he mumbled, utterly weak for you.

---

It was late, and Steven had just gotten home from the museum, looking exhausted but happy to see you. He placed his bag onto the couch, and rolled his shoulders.

Without a word, you stepped up to him and wrapped your arms around him. He exhaled slowly before sinking into it.

His hands settled on your back, his thumb rubbed absent-minded circles. "I needed that," he murmured. "You always know, don't you?"

For a while, neither of you spoke. There was no need to. He held you like you were the best part of his day, because you were.

---

Steven's fingers trailed over the spines of the books as he walked through the narrow aisles. His eyes carefully scanned the titles. He paused and pulled one free.

"Oh, this is brilliant," he said as he flicked through its pages. "I read this one ages ago, never thought I'd find a copy here of all places."

"Another book on Egyptian mythology?" You asked.

"Not just another book," he corrected. "This one's got interpretations of early tomb inscriptions that..."

He stopped, shaking his head. "Sorry, I'm rambling again."

"Steven." You placed a hand on his arm. "I love when you ramble."

He tucked the book under his arm, then reached for your hand, giving it a light squeeze.

"You're my favourite person, y'know that?" He said.

You smiled at him. "I know, and you're my favourite person."

[minniemollymickey]

painted jogn warben on a tiny canvas...

[trashart00]

Give a Miraculous writer a pen and they will write you a perfection-demanding (usually evil) parent.

[bittercafanddatapads]

Marshall Commander Fox is scarcely seen without his iconic helmet, even within the confines of the Coruscant guards headquarters. The freshest of shinies usually don’t see his face until a few rotations into their deployment, even then usually in private moments and passing chances. The very rare occasion Fox eats with his corries in the mess hall (the times he actually has time to), glances of Fox in the medical bay being treated after a sideways operation (only after everyone else has been cared for by his firm insistence,) the training assessments he’s able to schedule and be apart of and participate in (swift healing to the pride of cocky shinies he calls to the sparring mat.)

Rather, it’s not impossible that he’s most often unhelmed in the situations of senate view.

Talking down antsy senators is one thing, and there’s numerous reasons why Fox’s number one rule for his Corries to follow is to never remove your helmet in senate view. The ability to decorate yourself and make yourself unique is a freedom the Coruscant guard gets to indulge very little in. They can’t decorate their armor for their own safety, and still enabling them the freedom to decorate their bodies and hair Fox is thankful he’s able to allow. But Fox’s mismatched armor isn’t unique to be hypocritical towards his own rules and troopers. It’s to protect them.

When a senator finds yet another fickle complaint about the troopers in red, they can’t discern amongst a selective Trooper to pin the blame. But in the line of white and red, Fox’s red and white armor catches their eye. There’s someone they can funnel their frustrations towards. Fox’s scars, hardened eyes, and graying hairs is the only face they’ve seen helmetless, the face they think about when building their ire.