#× cowboy shit . × visage．

[kazeton]

High Noon Yone: The haunted man doesn't breathe, just leans against the hitching post and squints into the frontier dusk—but it ain't him. Not really. The real Yone is shadow and gunsmoke, roiling as it sinks back into the stillness of his corporeal form.

“How'd you wind up split like that?” the young Powder Witch asks. Yone sighs, “It's a long story, kid.”

[cowbcyshit]

today was a hell of a day and the product of many big dreams, refusal to accept what pro wrestling was and believe instead what it could be and tons of blood, sweat and tears put in by our amazing roster and staff over the last 4 years. to achieve what we have in under 5 years is insane and i'm so proud of everyone. let's not let any drama get in the way of a legendary accomplishment and several hours of pure, solid, damn good wrestling.

[pr0vincial]

tag drop part two .

[venomtorn]

Tags

[miguel-ohara-wifey]

I’ll find you

Chapter 2: Jobless Monday

Cowboy!Miguel O’Hara x fem!Reader

Rating: 18+, Angst, Hurt + comfort, & fluff

Warnings: portrayal of grief, portrayal of depression, mention of dead animals, mention of domestic abuse, mention of child labor, mention of child abuse, murder plot, misogyny, spoilers for Jane Eyre I guess

Word count: 2.6K

~~Fifteen years and 6 months ago~~

“It’s the only way to get the future we deserve…” Thomas whispered to you in the closet. Huddled by cleaning supplies and frail brooms. You both were cloistered in a cleaning supplies storage room in your soon to be father in laws factory. Thomas’s family were chemical industrialists, they mass manufactured perfume, bleach, and gas. Even more known for being disgustingly rich.

But considering what Thomas just told you. The stuffy humidity between you two wasn’t all that held your breath under your throat. You didn’t go along with what was asked of you just because it was your wealthy fiancé. 

“What?” You managed to choke out, scanning Thomas’s well kept visage. Oily slicked back hair, topping the man in a freshly trailered suit. He was pale and fidgety under all the fancy dress. 

“I know-“ “YOU KNOW WHAT!?” You screamed back at him behind the cover of the breaking wooden door. Still keeping it down enough for anyone on the other side not to catch anything. You kept on.

“How could you even fucking ask me that!?” You reviled back at him. “He’s a wretched man!” You roll your eyes so far in the back of your head you swear you catch a glimpse of your brain.

“Well I’ll believe that he’s an industrialist, he pays the kids here a nickel an hour…” your arms fold into each other below your chest. His father is a piece of shit, considering he called you “his son's whore” right as you first meet. Not even glancing at how he treats his employees as much as his property as the machines they operate for him. Thomas was a far kinder and more reasonable man. 

However, to help murder a human being, to place their heir to take over. This is some French novel bullshit Thomas desperately tried to convince you to help him with. 

He then lightly tangled his fingers with yours, breaking the wall you created between himself and you with your arms. Locking his eyes with yours in another soft embrace. 

“I have no one else to turn to, fathers treated me like his property his whole life. His dutiful little worker, like he has everyone else in this fucking place…you can help me change that. The minute he dies this is all ours, we can change it…”

He moves a stray hair from your bun to behind your left ear, “I’d do the same for you. All you have to do, is get me that poisonous plant…and when my parts are over. All these people will have whole new lives…” He then traces his hand over your stomach. A vague shape of a bump can be felt forming. 

“And for our baby too…” he finishes as your noses are now inches apart. A hole in your rib cage formed, despite the romantics of the scene. What it truly entailed, a weight was bound to your legs. As you flew down the waters of conflicting emotions and wishes. 

Thomas explained how couldn't shut down the factories but he’d improve conditions and explained his plans for increasing the workers' pay. All these mental schematics of what he’d do the moment the factory was written in his name. But in your hearts, the factories would be yours.

~~That Monday afternoon~~

You were awake for a couple of hours, but the weight in your chest kept you sinking in Miguel’s guest bed. Your face is dirtied by messy blush and dried tears, your face looking like a shitty canvas. As you look through the window you feel asleep staring at. The black of the Sunday evening with heavy sprinkling of stars. Was totally enveloped by the milky clouds of the daytime, with just a few small puffs of the pure blue sky escaping through the colorlessness. 

As your mind submerged in the gray sea of grief, being pushed down so deep all you could visualize was black. You recall when Mona learned to ride a horse, how she named her first horse snowball. The dimples framing her every smile, the pun book she carried around for years. How she’d collect plants to artistically study them, practicing drawing on dandelions. You had to carry her to bed when she fell asleep by her drawing desk many times. 

You couldn’t help but smile at the thoughts, at the memories swimming beside you. It was a comfort. Then a gentle knock on your open door threw you back to reality. 

“Hey, you didn’t eat breakfast. You should come out and get the lunch I got for us. Got some good rabbit…” Miguel sheepishly offered, you knew he was trying to help. You pushed yourself off the top of the comforters out of obligation of hospitality. You wiped your eyes after a long yawn.

“Okay, thank you.” You whimpered, Miguel gave a polite smile as you made your way past him down the hall. Once at the table, he neatly set out the plates. With some freshly roasted rabbit topped by garlic and basil. With lemonade in a see through pitcher centering the round table. His plate with the same sat across from yours. Once you meet the chair on the right of you, he sat on the other.

The clammer of metal utensils against porcelain plates, you lazily tore apart the seasoned rabbit with your teeth. You shot your eyes open, “Oh god this is so good-“ not meaning to sound so surprised in your compliment. Miguel smiled again “Thanks, took me half the day to catch it….” The hunger crushing you under your ribcage hit you twice as hard. Compelling you to shove as much of the meat into your mouth as possible. He started laughing, “Easy now no one's gonna take it from you…” you proceeded to eat like it anyway. The garlic giving a nice savory sensation across your tastebuds, meanwhile the basil a fresh sweetness splattered in your mouth. 

Despite spending a lot of your life eating fancy meals prepared by great chefs. This simple meal tasted better than all of it combined. 

“Thank you again, this is really good. I’m starving…” the rabbit you were currently chewing muffled your words. Miguel barely touched what was on his own plate. You spied so soon and stopped your assault on your own meal.

“Yes?” Enquiring puzzled, he shook his head with a nervous grin “Nothing.” He blatantly lied with an anxious crease framing his face. But considering all he’s done for you, you’d respect that he’d rather not say anything now. 

“I have questions…” you abruptly state, he tears off his first piece of the rabbit putting it past his lips. “Ask away.” He responds casually, you point at his fingers “How the hell do you have claws?” He paused after swallowing his cooked kill, considering what to say. “Its a long story, short version being I created a liquid that gives me talons. As well as inhuman strength, stamina, endurance, and so on…” he said as if it wasn’t the most insane explanation you’ve ever heard in your life. Not like you’d anticipate a normal reasoning to how a human man can grow talons through each of his finger tips. 

“Okay….” You breathed out, onto the next question “Just, who the hell are you?” Miguel raised his eyebrow at you, almost somewhat threatened by the question “What do you mean?” You frantically clarify “Who are you!?” That was a bad attempt at clarification. You’re sure Miguel won’t actually answer what you’re asking. But that doesn’t kill your persistence.

“How are you here!? Why are you here!? Do you work for the government!?…why did you save me?” The real question escapes from your lips after a few moments of quiet. Miguel’s suspicion dropped, pity rested in his blocky face. 

“For the last one, I saved you cause I saw someone in danger. So I helped…” Miguel's hand brushing against your shoulder that was nearest to him. You realized just how big he is compared to you, at most an inch above six foot in height. And his muscles make his visage dwarf you by a lot. His hand can cup almost your entire shoulder too. But it was a comforting size, considering he’s used his body to do nothing but shield you and save you. The feel of his skin against yours only shoots a warmth from your heart to the rest of your body. How his touch moves through every nerve and muscle in your form is intoxicating to boot. But you snap out of it when he breaks away.

“But for the others, I’d like my privacy.” You nodded still somewhat dazed from how he touched you moments ago. But regardless you decided to respect that. You look down at the two helpings of meat left on your plate, as Miguel’s barely started with his. From then on you two embrace the silence. Just enjoying a lovely meal with company. 

You can’t help but be intrigued by Miguel regardless. Wanting to dig behind his dark almond eyes to see the man beneath the mask. You don’t fear his intentions, he’s done the opposite of harm to you. Even if he did have bad intentions he’s had more than enough opportunities at this point to exploit you. But he hasn’t, you then spy around his home. 

You noticed how empty it was, sure there were the basic necessities of life. Stove, bed, toilet, and kitchen sink. However besides that and a few bookshelves, there’s nothing filling this cabin. You certainly haven’t heard anyone else inside the house besides Miguel. Not even a dog or cat, it’s truly just Miguel boxed into this lovely abode. With quite a few miles of thick forestry severing his connection to the rest of humanity. 

Miguel’s surely a character, all this skill and power, looks to boot. Yet he chooses nature as his only companion, but kept a guest bedroom in case anyone wished to fill this space with him. But by the partial dust that rubbed against your body as you laid on the guest bed. Something tells you you’re the first to do so in a long while. 

He hides his loneliness well, wearing polite awkward smiles to greet you. Humbly allowing you to make your presence known however you wish. But never pushing or begging for it. However his dimples are always carved by a hopefulness you’d come closer. That you’d speak with him for more. Even when his introverted silence and private exterior would suggest otherwise. You know Miguel’s type, you’ve been that way too for many years. 

So you throw him a bone, “For the sake of conversation, what do you read?” Miguel perked up, his dinner half done by the time you speak up. You swear you catch him blushing. “Not as much as I want to that’s for sure, can barely remember what I have read. What about you?” He’s hoping you can keep this going. His puppy eyes in your sights makes your heart flutter. This almost feels like a date. 

“Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice is my favorite of her work. Jane Erye’s just okay….”

~~One heated rant about Jane Eyre later~~ 

You and Miguel were sitting beside one another on the couch with tea cups centering the coffee table. As cooled green tea fills your cups, you conclude.

“THATS why the twist with his wife being in the attic this whole time is ridiculous and out of left field.” 

Miguel was entranced by you, just hearing you speak about the nutritional value of rice and he couldn’t look away. He’d barely be able to space out, just you yourself is enough to glue his mind to you. With his red button up shirt has a couple of its top buttons undone. With the sleeves folded back behind his elbows. You can’t help but be tangled by the sight of him, his laps spread about to massage his large thighs. Both his arms lining themselves along the top of the furniture you both sat on. 

You knew he was good looking, but he can make even sitting on a couch look hot. You then cough realizing how long he’s been listening. Slightly embarrassed you await whatever response he has. 

“Thank god you spared me having to read it then…” he chuckles, indulging your info dump. You gratefully smile as he grins back. 

“Miguel…” you say, tasting his name on your lips. As the joy of the moment dropped. “Sorry, I overstayed my welcome, haven't I?” You let your head fall at your feet. Becoming anxious at the thought of Miguel becoming annoyed with you. 

“No you haven’t at all…I’m guessing you have nowhere else to go?” You shake your head solemnly. As he continued, “You can stay here until you work something out…” you leered up to meet his eyes ``What? I can’t ask that of you-“ Miguel contradicted you “You’re not asking, I’m offering…” he bent down his head slightly. To make up the head and a half gap between your heights, even when sitting down. He eclipsed you by quite a margin. 

You knew you couldn’t tell him no, even if you had other places to shelter you. Being with Miguel is just euphoric. You haven’t felt this way since before you met Thomas. And the feeling hasn’t come back since Thomas…changed. 

You never felt a crawling under your skin at the sight of him. You didn’t jump upon hearing the sounds of his steps throughout the house. Miguel never would give you the silent treatment until he needed something from you. Even with a gun strapped to his thigh you never felt safer in your life. So you nod, swallowing tears back into your eyes saying.

“Okay, thank you…” Miguel’s smile fills his entire face, eats away the whole room so you can’t look at anything but the curve of his lips. After a moment of looking each other in the eyes. You spot the break of sundown through the window. You’ve talked for long yet it felt like a precious moment. 

Miguel had his own question, it hung out from his bottom lip. You could tell. So you cut to the chase “I’m sure you want to ask something..go ahead.” Miguel swallowed and moved his arms to his sides. His posture is notably stiffening. 

“Why did your husb-Thomas, want to kill you?” You grunted, a small volatile flame combusted under your collarbone. Igniting your heart like a match in a powered barrel. But it was muffled by your skin and bone, as well as your calm response. “I tried to run away with Mona, he found out. And tried to have me killed and make it look like an accident…” Miguel nodded understandingly. His hands folded together as his fingers nervously tangled themselves into each other. 

“Did he want to kill Mona too?” He almost whispered, like one would try to gleam their feet as gently as possible on the breaking ice of a frozen lake. From what you both saw it looked like she was shot in the crossfire. Neither of you knew his plans for her, and why he was in such a hurry to leave with her. 

“I….I don’t know.” You eventually choked out, a loud sniff punctuating your admission. You explained further looking down, “He never once paid attention to her when she was a baby or growing up. If there’s one thing Thomas despises it’s something or someone he can’t control….I assume he cared enough to try and kill me for leaving. But I just don’t fucking know.” Miguel apologetically frowned at you, nodding with a “Okay, thank you for explaining to me.” One socially inappropriate smile at him you chuckled 

“I appreciate it, Miguel.” He nods standing up, cracks his back the second after. Then get up to start the dishes. You don’t feel tired at all, you straighten your legs after pushing yourself off the couch.

“Hey, let me help you.” 

[sanguinesinners]

@ofthestcrs

—————-

“What about now?”

Roman shot a humoured pouty pose in the man’s direction, motioning at the camera Caleb brought along with him. The poses Godfrey we’re doing wasn’t like him, but he knew it would slowly bring a smile to the wolf’s face. Which simultaneously made the Upir happy too.

For some dumbass reason, Roman took Caleb out for some shopping, knowing the wolf was irate with this sort of shit, mumbling that he would most likely just wanna stay in bed - Which was understandable for every human being. Godfrey wasn’t keen on letting that happen though, he wanted to make most of the time he had with him, knowing that sooner or later, his bitch of a mother would want to move out of this plagued ridden town. Or try to destroy it, either way.

Shortly after, Roman had been rummaging in some large boxes he found in a small clothing store littered with odd dress up shit, finding a cowboy hat that he made no haste in wearing, and then some more fancy hats and head pieces he placed onto Caleb, alongside a work guitar that seemed to be propped up against the wall, now adjusting a sweet tiara within his large head of curls “You look like a pretty little rockstar princess now” He teased, before finding some loose jewellery buried beneath it all - It was an emerald ring he was fumbling between his long fingers, he pulled on his bottomplump lip before grabbing at Caleb’s hand and sliding it cautiously on his finger.

“I’m not proposing or anything. Just suits you, y’know for the whole cute visage you have going on or whatever” Godfrey shrugged, stumbling on his words, making no big deal but to grow a shit eating grin after making the gesture.

[nytehavyn-circle]

I posted 4,811 times in 2022

That's 4,444 more posts than 2021!

921 posts created (19%)

3,890 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@wilwheaton

@akindplace

@liberalsarecool

@walkerofclouds

@naughtynecromancer

I tagged 1,915 of my posts in 2022

#ooc - 714 posts

#naughtynecromancer - 177 posts

#tolaas x mori - 168 posts

#the cowboy vampire and his fae queen - 112 posts

#meme - 105 posts

#elektranon - 93 posts

#lilahemorgan - 81 posts

#spike - 61 posts

#politics - 54 posts

#visage - 53 posts

Longest Tag: 117 characters

#and when i run out of food stamps i use our bishop's warehouse. the selection of food isn't great but it's still food

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

‘i licked you so you’re mine now’

Tolaas glanced at her, then looked down at his arm, then looked up at her and started laughing. "Really? That's how yer gonna try ta claim me? Yer the first one that's ever licked me ta try ta stake a claim."

@elemental-surprise

62 notes - Posted January 25, 2022

#4

Eve grinned seeing Terran reading in front of her, slipping off her shoes, she did her best to sneak up on him, vanishing in violet flames and reappearing in his lap with no flames this time. Wriggling playfully in his lap to get comfortable, she smiled. "Hi." She greeted him.

Terran's book was basically knocked out of his hands and onto the floor when Eve "poofed" into his lap. He glanced forlorn at the book on the floor, pouting, but smiled warmly at Eve and wrapped his arms around her. "Hi, Pet," he said, then kissed her softly. "What are you up to today, my dear?"

@bxrningambitions

77 notes - Posted January 30, 2022

#3

Tolaas was walking down the street, handin the pockets of his duster, just minding his own business and thinking about things. HE was currently in an alternate New York, where he had followed a ShadowDemon and finally disposed of it.

Now that that was overwith, here he was just wandering.

In the short distance, Tolaas recognized somebody. "Harley!" he exclaimed, forgetting for the moment that this wasn't his Harley, this wasn't the Harley he knew.

He hadn't seen her ina year and had recently been thinking about her. HEnce the excitement when he saw "her".

"Harley!" he exclaimed again and rushed up to her. Quicly, he picked her up in his arms and kissed her deep. Finally, he broke the kiss and stood her down... and it finally dawned on him after a quick look at her aura.

"Oh shit," he muttered. ":My gods, I'm so sorry..."

@thejestersiren

101 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

#2

"Did I mention you missed my birthday, and Christmas and Valentines day? We have a lot of time to make up for, a lot of celebrating." She asked him with a small smile, she had gifts for him and a nice steak dinner planned. "Can I steal you?" She asked him, looking up at him sweetly.

Tolaas smirked at stared at her. "Yeah, yeah," he chuckled. "Well, the last year... I missed a lotta stuff fer a lotta people..." He nodded. "Sure, I ain't got nothing planned taday. Where ya takin' me?" he asked.

@naughtynecromancer

103 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

(Open)

(Open to new interactions)

Tolaas was at the venue that night, for amateur night. Throughout his life, Tolaas had mastered any type of song that could be sung, mastered the guitar. Though he wasn't an amateur, he always played amateur nights so he wouldn't really be recognized or anything as such. He preferred to stay out of the public eye where his talents were concerned.

He was in the public eye enough when he was out Hunting or doing jobs. Luckily Terran managed to keep his hidden afterward and out of the eyes and thoughts of the local police.

But tonight was for fun. The stage was nice and had a full band, so Tolaas would be able to showcase his strumming and his voice with full accompaniment.

He applauded and whistled for the woman who had come before him. She sang a rendition of Christina Aguilera's "Beautiful". And it matched the woman's voice. It was amazing. It really moved Tolaas.

Now, it was his turn. He stepped onto the stage and swung his guitar around. He introduced himself and strummed a few chords. He said he was going to sing "Little Black Dress" by Jace Everett.

In front of the mic, Tolaas began the song, with the band backing him the whole time.

124 notes - Posted February 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[sunbentsky-archived]

using a bucium as a shepherd is kinda gay if you think about it. what do you need a blowing intrument to communicate over long distances in forested mountain areas for? so other men can find you? so you can guide the dogs and sheep home safely and spend the night with your man? smh

𝘽𝙊𝙂𝘿𝘼𝙉 𝙀𝘿𝙄𝙏𝙎: 11 / ??

[bodytheft]

tag drops

001. MIND HAS LEFT THE BUILDING | OOC 002. BUT POSSESSION IS HOT? | CRACK 003. I MAY BE BAD BUT I BELIEVE IN GOOD | HC 004. YOU CAN’T EVEN TOUCH ME | CHARACTER STUDY 005. I WISH I COULD REMEMBER! I BLACKED OUT LIKE A HERO! | MUSINGS 006. HOMIES KISS THE HOMIES | N.S.F.W. 007. BLONDE PRETTY BOY | VISAGE 008. WE ON X GAMES MODE | STARTERS 009. YOU DIDN’T SEE SHIT | MEMES 010. NO THOUGHTS HEAD EMPTY | THREADS 011. WE’RE JUST FUNKY COWBOYS BUT LETHAL | OUTLAWS VERSE 012. PLEASE DON’T BE A KNIFE | MAIL

[sansmania]

Why is thia going past 2 parts its gonna be 3 oh NO

Title: Your Man

Ship: Boss [ @bonelyheartsclub ]/ GN reader

Descrip: i got disctracted by the cAR DRIVE????? also cowboys apparently arent real

You were quick to get dressed in something decent- not wanting to push the tall skeleton's patience, but also knowing there was a standard he held when it came to appearances in public. By no means would he allow you to spend time in town with him wearing something lazy and frumpy- he wasn't like Sans or Stretch.

After a once over, you were pleased with your choice. Making sure the combat boots you picked out were tied right and scuff free, you hopped down the stairs and grabbed your go bag.

Boss had busied himself by fingering through your unused bookshelf and books, having picked some hardback out, eyelights skimming over the words in silence. He startled only slightly when your keys rattled, closing the book and placing it back where he'd taken it from with a click of his jaw.

"Hey, you're fine- didn't mean to spook you." You laughed as he made a sarcastic sound at the back of his throat.

"I am aware how ‘fine’ I am, but you did not 'spook' me." Your shit eating smile didn't go away at his retort, though the first bit caught you off guard. Boss was such a haughty bastard sometimes and it really got under your skin. You wondered if he was aware of that.

But, before you could think any harder, the skeleton headed towards your beat up front door.

"Now, are you ready to go? These sneakers are not comfortable. I am hoping this store you have found has others for me to choose from so I can throw these out."

"Come on, maybe if you'd coordinate with them, you could pull off neon orange Converse, Boss." He made a short gagging sound as you laughed, locking the door behind you. "Ah, well, I can dream, can't I?"

"Keep the dream to yourself then, human. Because you will never see me in detestable clothing like this ever again." Though, Boss didn't seem as unamused as you figured he would be at the suggestion, a slight curl to his mouth.

Out of sheer habit, you headed towards your car before Boss caught the collar of your shirt, pulling you away from it and across the street towards his own deep red convertible.

"Absolutely not. Put the location in the GPS. I am driving." There was no fight put up, to his demand. Boss's car was insanely nice- when you first saw it, you almost didn't want to touch it, let alone ride in it. But, it was his casual vehicle. He drove the damn thing everywhere and you were not going to complain about it today.

You both settled in and were off on your repairing adventure.

The top was cranked down, your hair whipping in the brisk wind, Boss had perched a pair of dark shades on his nasal ridge- probably held on by magic, you stopped asking to be honest- and had an arm perched on the door as he focused on the road and GPS feeding directions through the radio.

He wasn't one for music, loudly proclaiming his distaste of your taste in music after blaring "Two Trucks" as you were trapped in traffic one day. The look on his face was worth a lifetime ban of tunes on your drives, but you didn't mind the silence or small conversations you shared.

Yeah, Boss could be blunt and downright rude at times, but you found it added to his charm. You could always expect honesty to come from him no matter what you both talked about. He couldn't lie to save his life, anyway, and it was a feature of his that you appreciated dearly.

"Human, I am aware that it is very easy to get struck by my visage," Boss smirked folding up the sunglasses and placing them in the collar of his shirt, causing you to blink and blood rise to your face instantly. "But, I do believe we have made it to our destination."

How had the ride gone by so fast? Had Boss been speeding? Were you so lost in your enamored thoughts you had no sense of time? 

Both?

"Right." You cleared your throat with an awkward laugh, climbing out of the car alongside the tall skeleton. He seemed to be greatly amused at your embarrassment as the pair of you headed into the southern couture themed shop. 

The first thing that hit you about the place was the smell of leather and hardwood. The second thing was the twang of county music playing over the speakers.

"Heh, they really stick to the theme, huh?" You couldn't help the eye roll, but Boss said nothing. Oh, right. The skeletons hadn't been on the surface for long, so this may be a little much. 

"Bit of a culture shock, Bossman?"

"Hm?" He broke out of whatever train of thought had taken over, shaking his head when you'd elbowed his hip. "Oh, no. Though I am impressed by their dedication to the concept."

"Pft, concept? Boss, cowboys and the mid-west are real." Now that made him snort.

"Do not play coy with me, human. I believed Undyne once that anime was real, and I am a wiser skeleton today by not believing everything on television. Now, where do we drop these off?" He had managed to cut off any argument you had prepared with his question.

You wouldn't let it go, but made a noise and looked around, spotting a sign on the ceiling that directed them to "Ye ol' boot fixin'" desk in the back.

Before you had a chance to say anything, Boss followed the directions on the desk. 'Ring the dinner bell for assistance', tapping the loud triangle several times as a voice in the back called out.

"Hold your horses!"

"Technically I could hold a horse, but I would much rather get my boots repaired." Boss said dryly as the cobbler walked out of the back. He only reeled slightly at the sight of a seven foot tall skeleton at his desk, wiping his worn hands on the old apron tied to his waist.

"Well, I'll be. Ain't had any of your kind come by before. So, ya'll said boot repair? Came to the right place then; names Willie." He held his hand out with a wide smile, Boss was only slightly taken aback by the gesture, meeting in the middle with a firm handshake.

"You may call me Boss. Apologies if my appearance is in any way menacing, as I cannot change that." Willie just chuckled, stopping you from interrupting any spiel your neighbor was about to go into.

"No need to apologize. Now, where's these shoes that need repairin'?"

[cowbcyshit]

little throwback for this thursday evening. 🐎

[bexatomarama]

Rumors Of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated {Whumptober oo9}

Day 9! 

Prompts: Presumed dead | (blind) rage | tears

It took her the better half of a month to get home. 

One fearful night spent easing herself from the train yard terminal, the roof creaking at every movement she made, and another army crawling on her belly out of the trainyard itself.

The day she spent under the building’s foundation, too tired to continue but too anxious to rest, was the longest day of her life. She didn’t dare make a sound, taking shallow breaths as she waited. Watching raiders mill about, learning their patterns. All this while only several feet from the pile of bodies decomposing in the sun.

She had to crawl past the pile that night, feeling eyes against her skull as she went. Sightless eyes, like stars in the sky, watching her every move. She didn’t stop crawling till the trainyard was just a dot in the distance, wouldn’t even turn her pip-boy screen on to check the map.

Crazy Wolfgang found her, a mile or so outside of Springvale. The otherwise chatty merchant was stunned into silence as she emerged over the horizon, head down and limping. Talk was small and far between as he escorted her the rest of the way to Megaton.

“Honest, didn’t expect to run into you out here,” He had commented, a hesitance unbefitting of the charismatic, if not eccentric, trader, “Or at all.”

She didn’t answer. Too focused on watching her bare feet scrape against the cracked asphalt, mourning the absence of her red high-top sneakers in silence. She tapped the empty bottle of water rhythmically against her leg as she went.

He cast a worried look her way but didn’t press her silence. It was clear as crystal that something had happened. Something awful.

As the caravanner and wanderer approached the gates to Megaton, something caught her eye. Among the debris and trash that littered the outskirts of Megaton laid a familiar pile of scrap.

She slowed to a stop, following the trail of junk with wide eyes. Pieces of scrapped Giddy Up Buttercup parts, some old motorcycle engines, miscellaneous scrap, and repurposed snack boxes that she knew housed intricate bits of computer parts. The bent visage of a very specific Vault Tec Bobblehead confirmed it.

This was her junk.

What the hell was it doing here?

Crazy Wolfgang said something, but the thumping in her ears tuned him out as she shook. Palms aching as she dug her nails deep into the flesh there. The lone wanderer stormed past, eyes watery and focused, through Megaton’s straining gates.

It was like she wore blinders, ducking through the gate before it was fully opened, feet pounding against the dirt with purpose. She shoved past gawking residences before she caught the cowboy hat in the distance.

“Simms!”

Her voice was still foreign to her ears. Husky and gruff, barely quenched from the scavenged bottle of dirty water she’d found earlier.  

The sheriff jumped, wheeling around to face the lone wanderer. Her chest puffed exhausted, labored breaths rendering her speechless as she stood before him.

Her vault suit was on the bomb.

Why was her vault suit hanging from the damn bomb?

She tasted blood again, cutting her still tender tongue up against her chipped teeth as she seethed. Was this an eviction? Was she robbed? Why would they throw all her shit out while she was away? It was only a month!

After all the shit she’s put up with, everything she’s done to help, was it not good enough for them? Were they so ready to get rid of her once the opportunity showed itself?

“You’re gonna get us all killed!”

That woman’s voice rang in her ears, deafening as that dead woman’s words shook her to the core. She tasted blood and saw red.

Suddenly she was back in the Vault, alarms blaring rendering her deft and blind as she struggled to evade guards, residents and radroaches alike. Over the alarms she can make out the words that they had screeched at her as she sobs, a lost little girl looking for daddy.

“Useless!”

“Worthless!”

“This is all your fault!”

She should have just died then. The overseer should have killed her. The raiders should have killed her. The fall should have killed her. She should be rotting away with those other women in the tower or joining them in an unmarked grave.

She was barely nineteen.

It wasn’t fair.

She felt hot tears leak from her eyes, bringing her back to the present as she hummed with insecurities and fury. Unaware of the internal struggle, Simms was rendered mute, stunned into silence at the sight before him.

“Praise Atom! Our heroine lives!” Confessor Cromwell cried from his place behind Sheriff Simms. As he raised to join the pair, she noticed flowers and candles littered the ground near his feet. Offerings of scrap and caps, parchment notes, nuka cola bottles housing flowers.

They held a service for her.

The angry tears subsided. Her knuckles cracking as her hands twitched into fists at her side. Her lip quivered, tears slowing to a stop as she takes in the scene. Knees buckling, Simms barely catching her before she thumped to the ground. Like dead weight, her body couldn’t stay up any longer.

She kneeled before the bomb, Simms comforting her and Confessor Cromwell praising her safe return as she wept.

They thought she was dead.

[deberiaestarescribiendo]

Hit me with your best shot

A/N: Hey! I saw the #WritersWednesday challenge on @autumnleaves1991-blog blog and thought it was an amazing opportunity to let the creativity flow and though I just started showing my works on here I guess giving it a chance wouldn't hur anybody and maybe some of you would enjoy this as much as I did writing it. And on that note, I'd like to thank every writer on here because your works have helped me a lot during these weird times; and of course speacilly to you @autumnleaves1991-blog for this and your "You're my best friend" series that made me cry, yearn (so much yearning) and loved every single minute of it, thank you!

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female character ( I decided to leave her very undeterminated as it's narrated on Javi's perspective I decided to use she/her pronouns, but I guess you could read it as a f!reader?)

Summary: Post-season 3, Javi and the character go on a date to Laredo's funfair (You could read this as a small piece on its own or as a part of the series I'm currently writing; if you're interested is on my blog and I haven't posted much since I opened it)

Warning: None (let me know if I should mark something) fluff! maybe some kissing...

Another thing! I've just finished this, so brace yourselves for some mistakes and mispellings, sorry

(I was listening to Kacey Musgraves while writing this, if you want to add more fluff to it)

She’s lovely with that white summer dress, she’s tapping her feet nervously looking around the street waiting for his car to arrive, but Javi is parked on the side of the road chewing a nicorette that has already lost all its taste. He observes how she peeks at her watch. He’s already late and doesn’t know what would make him feel any more terrible: standing her up or going on a date with her like an old creep.

Come on, Peña he urges himself to make a decision, but before he can make up his mind, he hears the door unlocking.

“Hey! I thought something had caught you up” she smiles and any doubts he had had been lifted. Gosh she’s pretty

“Sorry, I’m late I had...” he can make up any excuse and he feels he’s just smiling like an idiot.

“Don’t worry” she seats and adjusts her dress shyly “I see we’re making progress” she motions to his mouth

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been very good.” Javi says proudly and follows the road full of car towards the fair “I haven’t had a smoke in...a month, I think”

“Congrats!” she cheers “You deserve a reward then” she grins

“Sure?” he smirks eying her briefly not losing the sight of the road

“Whatever you want” she nods

“But a cigarette, of course”

“Obvs” she chuckles

“Then I better think for a really good reward, I deserve it”

“Yep”

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

­­­­­­­­­She’s talking about the first time she came to the funfair being a child. Javier is listening partially; part of his focus is on everybody around them. It feels like all Laredo is there and they had been stopped a few times already by people that wanted to shake his hand and thank him for his service; and Javi starts to feel like the music is too loud, there’s too many people around them and that he doesn’t want to hear the word “hero” anymore. So he tries really hard to look at her, to concentrate his mind on how she interrupts her speech when she looks directly at him, how she blushes, how the warm breezes moves the baby hairs that frame that beautiful visage, how her lips shine with that chapstick she uses and that he’s dying to taste.

“Anyway we can do any ride but that one” she points at the big one in the middle that spins fast creating a wave of screams and laughter every time it makes a round “Unless you want me to puke all over your pretty plaid shirt”

“You like my shirt?” he smirks

“Yeah” she tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear “You look like a real cowboy” she adds. Her smile is brighter than any of the thousand small lights that illuminate the fair.

“I like your dress” Javier leaves his hand hang languidly close to hers until their skin brushes against each other. When he sees she doesn’t recoil, he grabs her hand locking his fingers with hers.

He can sense her nervousness, but hopes it’s the good kind. The exact same feeling he has at the moment, those soft palpitations that he hasn’t felt in years; the butterflies. Eventually she answers his compliment:

“Thanks, it was just 10$” instantly she looks down at her feet “God! I’m terrible at this”

“At what?” the people look at him and then at her, and then their gaze is fixed on their intertwined hands. Javi knows that the rumors are already spreading and hopes that whatever she’s going to hear about him in the next few days doesn’t ruin this.

“Dates...flirt...this” she points at him and then herself

“I cannot believe that” he counters

“Seriously? hey your dress is pretty; yes it cost me ten dollars” she mimics

“I thought it was cute”

“Cute?” she raises her right eyebrow

“Yes, you’re cute” Javi maintains

“You too” she admits

“Me?”

“Yeah! A pretty cute cowboy in plaid” she laughs

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

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­She makes him forget about this damn town, even Colombia and everything that happens seems a billion years away. If the people around them bother her, she doesn’t say. She doesn’t speak with him like anybody in town after he’s been back. For her it’s just Javi, and this Javi can have fun: he has shared a cotton candy with her, he has done some of the strongest rides even if his back is killing him, he has hold her waist when she jumped and screamed on the Tunnel of Terror and then laughed out loud when they got out.

“Javi!” she calls “We forgot about your reward for your first month without a smoke” she holds his hand and stars running towards the shooting gallery.

“You have five shots to win one of our wonderful set of prices. You just have to hit the little birds once”

The targets come and go up and down on the wheel, the paint on them is chipped, testimony of a long life in these funfairs and many missed shots. She takes one of the guns and closes one of her eyes aiming towards the wooden forms that spin on the wheel.

“Take a look of the plushies, cowboy, I’m gonna win you one” she says cockily

“Yeah, sure” he scoffs

“What? you don’t think I’m capable?” she turns towards him, gun still in her hand

“Wow, first of all, never point to somebody with a gun” Javi grabs the barrel and pushes it downwards “even if it’s not real, and second, open both of your eyes to aim” he explains

“Yes, sir. I forgot you were an agent. I better follow your orders, then” she winks at him and with a deep breath resumes her posture to take her first shot. Failing.

“Shit” she grunts “Have you chosen?” she points to the wall on the right full of stuff toys

“Erm...Does it matter?”

“Absolutely, come on, it motivates me”

The toys are horrendous; surely they’ve been doing their round around every fun fair in Texas for ages.

“Okay, one of the teddy bears” he agrees with a shrug

“No! no! be more specific” she scolds “Do you want the big one? the white one with the red bowtie? the brown with the small farmer hat? Or...Look!” she jumps excitedly “There’s a cowboy one, I’m gonna get you the cowboy” she nods and tries a second time, missing.

Javi mocks her and leans on her shaking in laughter.

“Yeah, really funny. Why don’t you try then?” she passes him the gun. After he has collected himself, he adjusts his posture and aims. Nothing.

She crosses her arms over her chest and observes him with an amused grin.

He doesn’t wait longer until he tries again and misses.

“You only got one left”

“Say goodbye to your teddy bear, cowboy” she whispers in his ear. Her sweet perfume and her voice distract him briefly. For a second he wants to throw the gun away and take her in his arms at last.

Javier shots again

“No luck today, sir, if you want to try again is three dollars”

Javi refuses the man with a gesture; she doesn’t say a thing for a minute, but then snorts and cries in laughter

“You’re lousy shot!” she screams

“You missed too” he defends

“Yeah, two shots, and you three, but who of us is a well trained agent, huh?” she sassed

Javi bites his lip, both hands on his hips; he knows there’s no way to defend his shitty shots.

“I still gained a reward though” he gazes at her

“Yeah, that’s true. What do you want then? I still have a few of dollars on me if you want a sundae or something”

“No, not that” he walks towards her and she instinctively recoils until she’s against the tent of the shooting gallery “I want something sweeter” he places his hands on her waist.

“Wh-hat?”

He bends and holds her at the same time, saving the height difference between them. He just brushes his lips against hers at first until she sighs and comes closer to him standing on her tiptoes. Javi deepens the kiss savoring the fruity chapstick she wears. Her lips are soft and sweet as he has imagined since he met her, her soft moans are music to his ears and he wants to hear more.

“Wow, you’re an incredible kisser, Javi Peña, but a terrible shot” she assures.

[leviathan-dee]

DMC Week 2020: Day 6: You Belong Here

(Here’s another small wholesome piece. I really wish we had more interactions with the entire crew in DMC, but the community provides enough to sate that need for wholesomeness). (All prompts were used for day 6). (Alcohol mention, and one use of a curse word lmao).

Family was never a word that Dante had to use too often in his vocabulary. Decades of separation and neglect seemed to stretch, until he finally found where he belonged; in this drunken celebration with his slightly dysfunctional family.

Word Count: 1,755

Characters: Dante, Vergil, Nero, Kyrie, Trish, Lady, Nico

Read On AO3

The scorching July sun seemed to boil every living being which dared step foot outside, merciless rays beating down upon the Earth. Whoever escaped the confines of their four walls were bound to become crispy at the sheer thought of the sun. There were, however, some fools who tempted fate, and proceeded to have an entire barbeque outside.

The Spardas, alongside the Devil May Cry crew, were said fools.

Of course, no one could deny Kyrie, the kindest, most gentle creature to ever grace the planet, a day outside. Especially during a celebration. Especially on a pregnant Kyrie’s birthday.

It was July tenth, the weather being arid and overly vacant of any breezes. This only made the heat far more excruciating. Kyrie didn’t seem to feel the blazes, her skin absorbing the rays to form a honeyed tan which complimented the amber glimmer in her eyes. Whereas Nero, unfortunately, panted like a rabid dog. His skin seemed to turn scarlet at the mere thought of summer. Evidently, the situation turned even worse for the boy since he had to man the barbeque, grilling burgers, as well as sausages, meanwhile being inevitably covered in helix coils of smoke. His beloved watched him apologetically, whilst he continued to sweat up a storm, beckoning the children to pick up their mouthwatering meals.

Dante sat beside an orchard, the apple trees being a godsend for shade in his time of need. Although the Sparda twin could withstand blazing temperatures, it was only for a short period of time; Not an entire day. Brushing his white, sweat-soaked locks away from his brow, Dante grabbed the neck of the beer bottle, letting the bubbles gently glide down his throat. He basked in the sensation for what seemed a whole eternity, whilst the sound of bickering and giggling children filled his ears. It was blissful, to say the least. To feel like he belonged. To have family.

He had hoped Verge felt the same about this reunion.

Thinking about his twin brother, Dante turned to the blue devil, noting that Vergil’s usual scowl was wiped clean off of his visage. Instead, his face was soft, bereft of any tension. He seemed… happy. Relaxed. It was refreshing to see. Albeit his quiet nature, the elder twin continued to lift the corners of his lips, reacting to the children, as well as Nico’s vulgar comments and Kyrie’s deathly glares at the gunsmith. Trish and Lady were the other pair to cause a ruckus, making Vergil smirk anytime they were told off by Nero for using non-family friendly language at the dinner table.

“Aww shit, we’re out of ketchup.” As a slightly intoxicated Lady let the curse word slip, she squeezed the condiment bottle harder, making it spurt out a less-than elegant bowel movement noise, and a pathetic dollop of tomato sauce. The children fell into hysterics, Nero and Kyrie unsure of whether to reprimand the woman, or giggle alongside the kids.

Dante continued to watch the spectacle, a warmth blooming in his chest.

Vergil was happy. In turn, so was his younger brother.

“So, Verge, enjoying yourself?” Sipping on liquid courage, Dante turned his head to his twin.

“Hmm. It appears as though I am.” The blue devil assumed a somewhat distant stare, turning his gaze towards his busy son at the grill. His eyes softened at the sight of Nero. If there was a trace of bittersweetness in Vergil’s expression, it came and went almost instantly. However, Dante knew him better than anyone, and could recognise his elder brother’s ghosts of guilt and regret quickly.

As a sudden breeze eased the tension of blanketing heat, Dante sighed, and recalled a nostalgia fueled memory.

“Remember when mum and dad brought all of their friends to the manor for a barbeque? We ended up playing with the other kids, whilst the grown-ups got drunk?” The scarlet devil sucked air in through his teeth, the memory almost too painful to relive. Vergil recoiled at the sudden recollection.

“I reminisce about those days often.”

“You were a damn sprightly kid, Verge. Always running off and hiding to read. Me and the others had to search for you, only to find you up on that gnarly tree, chomping on some apple.”

Dante continued with the mental memoir, his lips curling upwards. He could almost hear the voices of the children and Vergil’s adamant refusal to climb down. He could smell the delectable cuisine of his father's famous burnt burgers and his mother’s soft laughter. Even the gentle grass lapping at his ankles was as vivid of a memory as the display of giggling children before him.

“And now…” Dante inhaled deeply, a ghost of a bittersweet smile gracing his lips, “now we’re the ones sitting, getting wasted, whilst the kiddos play.”

“What are you getting at, Dante?” Vergil uncrossed his arms, running his fingers through his hair, a tell-tale sign of either annoyance or discomfort. Dante simply waited to collect his thoughts, the image of past times being too much. In retaliation to the thoughts, he inhaled the scent of sweetened smoke, inching himself to the empty seat beside Vergil. He let out an almost elderly sigh as he landed in the chair before continuing earnestly.

“We made it, Verge. We've come full circle.”

Vergil's reforming thoughtful brow wrinkle made its famous comeback, his mind processing Dante's statement.

So they did come full circle.

Dante was so adamant on having something dear to hold onto, he was finally rewarded with a family. Finally rewarded with what he longed for since he was eight years old. Though it was a screwed up little group with issues that would take a few more decades to sort out, it was his family. Vergil was very much a part of that family. It warmed every cold crevice of the blue devil’s beating heart, the melodic rhythm becoming even prouder.

"Christ, Vergil. You have a son, can you believe it? In fact, you're going to have a grandkid. You're going to be the youngest looking gramps to have ever lived." Dante attempted to pinch his brother’s cheek, earning him an irked scoff, alongside a hearty slap to the back of the head. It seemed as though they returned to their youthful selves, ignoring the wrinkle lines that arose with age, and the exhaustion inflicted violet splodges beneath their eyes.

They were kids again, trying their best to catch up on the lost years of brotherly bickering.

...

The air began to cool off as the evening drifted. Nero was unchained from his duties, sipping a chilled beer, pleased hums and sighs resounding from his chest. Kyrie cuddled into Nero’s side, the both of them entangled behind the table. Viewing the spectacle, Dante turned to Vergil once more.

"I think mum and pops would be proud." The statement came out of the blue, yet did not startle the blue devil. Instead, his visage was graced with a saccharine smile, the type that Dante had rarely seen in the man. In fact, it was only witnessed during their eventful, albeit brief, childhood.

"Hmm… I hope so." Sighing, contentment written all over Vergil’s features, he craned his neck up to the trees, breathing in the tender breeze of the summer evening.

Dante continued to reminisce about his nephew, and the love of Nero’s life. Seeing the shy ‘couple’ back in Fortuna, he never anticipated to witness this decade-long result; A great-nephew. Kyrie seemed to glow as she nuzzled into her beloved’s side, with a five month bump becoming a prominent addition to her frame. It was a wondrous thing to Dante, knowing that their little dysfunctional family was ever-expanding. The fuzzy feelings appeared to bloom at an exponential rate, which the scarlet devil attempted to gulp down with bubbling alcohol.

He was proud of them. Proud of the tiny group. His family.

A boisterous Nico interrupted any thoughts, eclipsing the view of the couple with her presence.

"So, 'nother beer for ya, gents?" She offered to provide more drinks, with Dante gladly accepting and Vergil politely declining. Whilst the Spardas’ intoxication was low, Lady and Trish were completely sloshed. Their joyous dancing was evidence of the fact.

Nico turned to the middle of the garden where the pair were swaying their arms about as if they were attempting to fend off mosquitos.

“Lady is gonna regret all that booze in the morning. Not sure ‘bout Trish though.” As the young gunsmith twirled on her heels to approach Nero and Kyrie, the dancing pair of intoxicated women began to beckon Dante.

“Hey! Give us your iconic MJ dance!” Trish slurred not a single word, Dante noting that she was playing the drunk to accompany Lady.

“C’moooon Mr. Sparda. Please?” Lady, however, slurred every word. It wasn’t often she had the time or the energy to let loose, so the evening was some well deserved alleviation of pent up stress and frustration. In the distance, Kyrie giggled at Lady’s tipsiness, earning the birthday girl an amorous peck on her button nose from Nero.

The scarlet devil stood from his seat whilst giving Nico an impish smirk, before summoning Dr. Faust into his palm. It appeared as though the cowboy hat materialised from countless twinkling coils of demonic energy. Nico returned his mischievous smile with her own, silently fist bumping the air. Nero simply sighed and clicked his tongue, mirroring his father’s own mannerisms of annoyance and exasperation.

“Not again…”

“YES AGAIN! HIT IT, DANTE!” Nico joined in on the two buzzed women on the garden dancefloor. As a natural performer, Dante swished the headpiece upon his crown, assuming a pose that could wow the crowd.

For hours, the party continued, each member of the crew joining in on the song and dance. Even Vergil pranced into the centre, grabbing a wasted Lady to waltz with him. Toasts were made, followed by treasured tears trailing alongside the speeches, each word weighing the world. Their love for each other, and this little makeshift family, could not be altered or demolished in any way possible. For each of these members lost someone close to them. Whether it was a father, a mother, a brother, or their entire livelihood. They ultimately found a group of like-minded individuals to fill the void. Nothing could separate them.

‘You belong here’ a tiny cherished voice uttered in the back of Dante’s mind. For the first time in decades, he was happy. He felt like he belonged.

Hell, he did belong. 

And nothing could change the fact.

[spookyspaghettisundae]

We All Pay for Power

Even at sunset, the yellow fireball in the sky was scorching hot. Not a single waking soul around for miles, save for a dusty old pickup truck roaring down the lonesome road. Its driver and passenger traveled closer and closer towards an even dustier, even older tour bus. The unforgiving desert winds swept over them.

Layers of grit and grains of sand caked the windows of what looked like a steel whale, beached in the Nevada desert. Far away from the road, in a circle of cacti, resting in a place invisible to natural eyes.

But the truck’s driver knew how to find it. The wheels spun and screeched as she veered off the thin strip of cracked asphalt, cutting through the landscape of red sand, sparse vegetation, and rocky hills. The tires found traction and dug into the dirt, carrying the truck closer to the old abandoned bus.

With each inch the truck drove closer to the bus, the sky darkened. Defying nature’s laws. Devouring the sun before it even set in due time. The black void of a nightly sky opened up overhead, and the darkness between the stars loomed ever-darker in between the tiny lights.

Watchful, and hungry.

The driver cut the engine. The pickup truck continued rolling until she hit the brakes and rocks and dust ground underneath the wheels, stalling the machine till it lurched forward and fully stopped.

She was the first out of the vehicle, grabbing a sawed-off double-barreled shotgun and slamming the car door shut behind her—the noise echoing through this pocket of Otherworld, hidden away in the desert. Paying no mind to how the starry sky had appeared before sunset and the sun vanished. This was not Kim’s first time of crossing over into another dimension that looked similar to our own on the surface.

Unlike Javier, who hopped out of the car next, leaving the passenger seat open. He stared up at the sky in disbelief.

“The fuck?” he asked. Getting no answer.

Kim did not reply. She approached the dusty old tour bus with steady steps.

Javi’s gaze wandered, coming to rest on the cacti nearby. Their thorns took the shape of wicked little knives; crooked and jagged and sharp-edged. Their stalks twisted to elongated, thin shapes that did not belong on Earth.

“Hey, Kim, seriously. What the fuck?”

He got no answer from her. She held the shotgun in her hand and slowed down before she arrived by the tour bus’ open door. Something echoed through space and time, as if it had just burst open mere moments ago. But now, the door leading inside the bus swayed gently in the wind. The metal of its hinges creaked eerily.

A dark presence waited inside. Palpable. Watching. Born from the void between the stars, coalescing in the bowels of this steel giant, taking familiar shapes. Silver eyes that peered outwards, that Kim could not yet see, but eyes that saw her clearly before she entered. Piercing through matter, through the veil between worlds.

Having spotted something that vaguely resembled a vulture, Javi backed away from the truck and towards the bus, following Kim without looking where he went. The winged creature on the rocks glared at him and he broke out into a cold sweat as their eyes met and the thing’s stare locked onto him.

It crept closer, like a four-legged predator, crawling over the bend of the rock, stopping on its perch and flapping its leathery wings twice. It didn’t look too much like a vulture anymore, owed to many sharp teeth in its beak and the eight eyes on its unfathomably hairy face.

Kim raised her weapon and entered the bus, oblivious to Javi’s panicked breathing as he stumbled backwards and caught up to her. He had his hunting knife and revolver out, ready for the winged thing to pounce, but it just waited. And watched.

Like the entity inside.

They entered the bus, back to back.

Plastic clicked, and Kim swept her flashlight’s cone of illumination across the darkened interior of the abandoned bus. The leather on the seats had been chewed up by time and tiny teeth. Piles of trash littered the place all over, making it look like a hurricane had hit someone’s belongings and scattered them about.

Someone had pinned vast amounts of newspaper clippings to one wall. Everything from serious reporting to lousy tabloids had found its way here. Reports of two missing men, Brent Carver and Rick Sutton, members of the indie rock band The Lost Number. The only remaining person in the group was Kevin, whose mugshot adorned one of the cut-out articles.

Kim remembered the story from her research: how two of the three band members vanished mysteriously out here in the desert, how no bodies were ever found, and how the police eventually released Kevin into the wild where he started a new life.

The punchline of the articles continued on from there, following Kevin’s ensuing career trajectory. The flamboyant, cross-dressing bassist player of a dead-end rock band had transformed into a successful stage magician on the Strip with a cult following. A snippet from a Rolling Stone interview book-ended the assortment of notes.

In red color, someone had spray-painted over the tail end of this creepy collage:

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR

Javi gasped when something cracked and he spun around. The plastic of a CD case broke underneath his boot; an autographed copy of the EP, Sexy Vampire in the Basement by The Lost Number. He stepped away from it, stumbling over empty cans of beans and bacon and other assorted canned food, kicking loose a brief cacophony of clattering and clanking.

Kim glared at Javi, silently imploring him to stop being so jumpy.

The wind outside picked up, resembling a coyote’s howl. But unlike a natural animal’s howl, it petered out into a ghastly screech. Something flapped its horrid wings to underline the ungodly origins.

From the darkness, deeper inside the bus, silver eyes stared out, watching the two new arrivals.

“Did he live here?” Javi asked. His voice trembled. So did he—his entire body.

Even if he couldn’t see the presence, he felt it.

Kim refused to answer. This was not a place to answer redundant questions.

“How can anybody live like this?”

Kim set her jaw, shining the flashlight down the narrow corridor of the bus into its deepest parts, where the silver eyes awaited them.

Finally, she answered, “Power always has a price. We all pay for it in our own ways. And this—this was his way.”

Someone cleared his throat and Kim pointed her gun in that direction. The darkness swallowed the cone of light, though a set of two eyes reflected it back as they blinked. A man in black sat there, in the bedroom at the end of the bus. Lounging on the beds, legs crossed, hands folded behind his head. Not a care in the world.

Bright white, clean teeth bared, a wide grin plastered across a face of handsome features. Chiseled, sharp jawline, symmetrical. A glint of the devil’s own confidence in his eyes.

“Can I help you?” he asked. Smooth voice—like smoke and velvet rolling over sanded stone.

Kim and Javi approached with careful paces, stepping over the trash heaps strewn about the floor. Both of them had their guns pointed at the stranger.

He budged not one bit, sitting like he belonged here. Garbed in black leather boots, dark jeans, and a crumpled old duster over a fancy black cowboy shirt with red patterns on it, this guy had the air of both a rich man and a vagrant.

“Are you Michael?” Kim asked him.

“No,” he lied. His smile widened. His steel blue eyes turned silver for a split second of the flashlight blinding him. He didn’t even blink this time. Lapped up the attention. Drank in their anxiety, thirsting for their fear.

Sprawled out in front of him was a circle of odd objects. Kim scanned over them with a quick glance, not quite registering what all of them meant or represented.

A circle of rice grains outlined the circle clearly, framed by a square of metal legs broken off a chair. In a pattern inside these shapes rested a tourist trap postcard from the Grand Canyon, a coyote’s skull, a tiny crucifix fastened to an old-timey alarm clock, a pill bottle of Alprazolam filled with black-painted fingernail clippings, a spiked dog collar, a folded piece of paper stuffed with a dark powder spilling out of the seams, and a pile of paperback novel covers glued together. Blue paint chippings covered the various objects.

“Please, let me know how I can help. Are you looking for Kevin?” asked Michael. “So am I. Perhaps we can help each other.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s fuckin’ lyin’,” Javi said. He emphasized that by taking a threatening step towards Michael, but Kim elbowed him to stop him in his tracks.

“Stay outta the circle,” she growled at Javi.

Michael raised his hands, displaying his open empty palms. He brought his hands together and steepled his fingers like some sort of discount villain.

“You might as well put those lil’ peashooters away. Even if you manage to waste me, you gotta deal with Smokey out there,” Michael said, gesturing at the way they had come from.

The cawing shriek pierced the air, followed by more flapping of the wings. Something heavy landed on top of the tour bus, thumping. Sharp claws scraped over the metal, and one of its many beady red eyes peeked in through an old bullet hole in the roof. It kept moving, thumping until it stopped, out of sight. Right above them.

Both Kim and Javi found they had been holding their breath all the while.

“You spill one drop o’ blood in here, then Ol’ Smokey’s gonna be all over this place like flies on shit. And none of us are gonna look pretty at the end of it,” Michael said. The smile slowly faded from his visage, lending credence to the visceral danger lurking just outside.

“We can find your friend if we join forces. Work together,” Michael lied again.

Javi’s lips curled into a sneer but he swallowed any remark, and Kim picked up on the subtle cue. He could sense Michael’s lying. He smelled bullshit five miles against the wind, which is why she had brought him along.

“Alright, whaddya got?” she asked the sorcerer.

Michael smiled again. Like the wolf inviting Little Red Riding Hood inside.

He raised a hand, index finger outstretched, cautioning them away from shooting him and indicating that he was not about to draw a weapon. Digging his other hand into his coat’s pocket, he produced a small silver object.

A flip-top phone from the early 2000s. He held it out for a second, and then gently tossed it across the room to the two. It clattered onto the ratty carpeted floor in front of Kim’s boot. She handed Javi her flashlight and picked up the phone.

Flipped it open. Didn’t question why it still had juice, because nothing needed to make sense in this pocket space adjacent to Earth. No network, all sorts of little arcane symbols blinking on the display. Memory full. The buttons triggered ridiculous little beeps as she thumbed her way through the phone’s storage, browsing through a set of photos.

Kevin was on each of them, striking different poses in front of a mirror, dolled up with make-up and wearing women’s clothes. She always knew him from his stage performances as a magician to pull off the androgynous look quite well, so it did not surprise her that he looked rather pretty as a woman.

Without looking up, continuing to click through them in hopes of finding anything unusual, she asked, “Anything else?”

Michael pointed to something behind the two.

“Yeah. What do you see in there?”

She clapped the phone shut and pocketed it in her jacket then followed the cone of light that Javi shone on the object behind them.

A heavy-looking safe with a digital lock, its display dull and deactivated, its door open. It was empty except for a mirror sitting in it, pushed up against the back wall of the safe’s hollow belly. Kim and Javi only saw themselves inside of it.

Then Kim spotted the silver eyes creeping up behind them, closer and closer. Shining out from a cloud of darkness, billowing out and growing and preparing to engulf them.

She spun around and the deafening shot from her gun made way for a vicious ringing in their ears. Kim frantically pointed the gun around, looking for a target, but she had hit no person, only blown a hole through the back wall of the bus where Michael had been sitting mere seconds before.

“This how you thank me for helpin’?” Michael’s voice spilled out. Everywhere, and nowhere at the same time. Like a voice in the back of their heads, like he was telepathically communicating with them.

“Run,” Kim breathed.

Javi didn’t need to hear it twice. He tripped over some of the junk on the way out but was out of the bus within a matter of heartbeats, kicking up sand as he sprinted towards the pickup truck.

The cloud gathered, swirling and pooling in the corners inside the bus where silver eyes opened in its center, staring at Kim.

“You’re just as messed in the head,” Michael said. His laughter erupted, revolving and booming and growing in volume like the stifling black fog that filled the bus.

Kim coughed and held her breath, stumbling away from the bedroom. The thing outside cawed. Thumped, thundered, as it climbed down the side of the bus. Claws sliced through steel, causing the metal to screech under the pressure of the creature’s tremendous weight.

Michael’s laughter swelled to a crescendo and stopped abruptly.

His voice right in Kim’s ear, “He tried to cheat his way outta the deal. And if you try to help him, you’re just gettin’ in on the cheatin’. And you don’t wanna know how I’m gonna deal with you. You girls don’t know what repercussions you’re lookin’ at.”

She fired another shot, blindly at where his voice had come from. The wind howled, and so did Michael, one of them expressing otherworldly hunger, the other incredible pain. He tripped and slipped on old magazines and fell. Blood had sprayed against the walls inside the bus and he coughed.

“Bitch—”

He groaned and held his side, collapsing onto one of the chewed up couches. In his hand he held a mean-looking knife—something straight out of a horror movie, all jagged and meant for unholy rituals.

“See you in hell,” Kim muttered, scrambling away from him. The junk around her clanked and she tumbled down the short set of stairs leading out of the bus.

The pickup truck’s engine roared and its wheels kicked up sand as it spun around, sliding to a halt next to her. Kim’s eyes went wide but she hoisted herself back up onto her feet. Ripped open the passenger door as it banged against the frame without engaging and Javi hit the gas pedal, making the ragged old engine growl and roar again.

The truck sped off before she even slammed the door shut, and the vehicle kicked up more sand. The distance towards the bus rapidly grew. The winged thing peered after them with its eight red eyes.

With trembling hands, Kim blindly reloaded both barrels of her still-smoking shotgun, craning her neck to observe what the creature would do next.

It defied her expectations—did not leap or fly after the pickup truck. It instead swung around the edge of the bus, moving like molten, living shadows. Folded its wings up behind its back and crawled inside the yawning door, leading into the bus.

Michael’s screams of agony pierced the heavens, louder than the wind, and the old tour bus of The Lost Number shook violently as a struggle for life and death ensued inside there.

The radio in the truck screeched, almost like the creature, followed by garbled static and white noise. Kim hit buttons on it until she silenced the device.

A gust of wind kicked up a huge cloud of sand, sweeping over the truck and causing both driver and passenger to cough until the air cleared.

The sky had changed, the starry night making way for the warm orange tones of the sunset. The natural one. Earth.

Kim and Javi looked into the rear view mirror, seeing no bus, no alien-looking cacti, no winged monstrosity that belonged in another world.

They allowed themselves to breathe, emitting sighs of relief, knowing they could put this experience behind themselves. Maybe get a good night’s sleep some day.

They wouldn’t even talk about it for the next ten miles. Dealing with these sorts of things took it out of you. The unnatural always gave you that extra little oomph to unpack later on.

For the entire ride back to Vegas, they failed to notice the disgusting, football-sized egg stuck inside the back of the pickup truck.

They would only find it after it had hatched.

—Submitted by Wratts

[vaniri]

Eye of the storm [Arthur Morgan x Reader] - CHAPTER 2/2

[chapter 1]

warnings: angst *insert “ah shit here we go again” meme here*, smut 😏, tuberculosis is still there

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

You opened your eyes and blinked a few times, trying to focus your blurred gaze on what was before you. This definitely wasn't your camp and you needed a moment to gather your thoughts and recall where you were. Saint Denis, yes. You had stayed here with Arthur, technically to wait until your horse rests after her injury, but also to catch your breath and spend some time together.

You lifted your head and looked at your beloved man, still sleeping, as you noticed. You rarely woke up before Arthur, so you considered yourself extremely lucky that morning. Not spurred to work by anyone, you could just lie in bed snuggled up to your him, simply enjoying his warmth and peaceful snoring (which you personally found rather adorable than disturbing). Sometimes you were just watching his face, so blissful and beautifully relaxed in his sleep, and taking in his handsome features. It was always a challenge for you to keep your hands to yourself and abstain from caressing his cheek, or touching his scarred chin, or dragging a finger along his pretty and tempting lips. But you didn't want to interrupt his sleep. Not like that, at least.

An idea crossed your mind. You could surprise Arthur and make it up to him for yesterday. Make him wake up with your lips on his hardening member. You smiled to yourself at that thought when your hand, previously lying calmly on his steadily rising and falling chest, started its unhurried journey down his abdomen. Your fingers toyed with the last button of his union suit, but you decided not to undo it yet. Instead, you grabbed his still clothed dick and gave it a few strokes. Arthur purred in his sleep, then let out a soft sigh, but didn't wake up. His expression became even more serene though, his face looked so adorable now... Ah screw it, you thought, withdrawing your hand. You can get him off properly later, now just let him sleep.

Somehow you managed to slip out of his embrace and get out of bed without waking him. It was ten after nine, you saw on the clock, so you should still have some time to wash Arthur's clothes, and maybe even take a bath. You dressed up quickly, braided your hair, and having decided to go for washing the clothes first (so they could dry a little before their owner wakes up), you snatched them from the sofa, where you had left them yesterday.

Something caught your attention on your way to the door. Your own reflection in a mirror hung above the washstand. You hardly ever looked at yourself; not because you didn't like your appearance, but you rather found futile staring at your own visage absolutely pointless. You didn't have many occasions to do so anyway, as there weren't many mirrors in the camp. That was probably why you didn't even know you had changed so much. All that stress you've been living with, due to Arthur's condition and the situation the gang wound up in, made you visibly thinner. Not very much, but you could clearly notice it. And your face, you were barely able to recognize yourself; it seemed so sad and so tired, even though you just woke up well-rested. One look into your sorrowful eyes made it abundantly clear that all that madness, especially Arthur's illness, was taking a toll on you as well.

You didn't have much time to muse about it, as loud and heavy coughing broke out unexpectedly behind your back. You turned around immediately and rushed to the bed, flinging the clothes you were holding back at the sofa. You sat beside Arthur, who was strenuously trying to force out what was burning in his lungs.

"Hey, [Y/N]." He gasped out when his fit finally subsided.

"Hey, love."

"You awake already?"

"As you see."

"Well, at least I didn't wake you." He smiled mirthlessly, stifling yet another cough.

"You okay? Want me to go get you some water?" You cradled his cheek, checking if he was feverish. Luckily, he wasn't abnormally warm, nor showed any signs of excessive sweating.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine." Arthur put his hand atop yours, trying to provide reassurance. "What was you looking at there?"

"What?"

"In the mirror. You was standing in front of it for a while."

"Oh. I thought you was sleeping."

"Not since you left the bed."

"I just... saw my face there and it got me thinking. How these last few months changed everything. Me and you, mostly." You let out a weary sigh. "I just wish... that things were different. Like they used to be. I really miss our old days."

"You and me both. But sadly, you fell for a complete idiot who ruined everything because he hardly ever thinks about the consequences of his actions. Who can hardly think at all." A grim smile flickered across his face when he took your hand in his, entwining your fingers together. "And here we are. We knew it would end like that, sooner or later. With me dying and you mourning me-"

"You are not dead." You cut him off sternly.

"But I will be. Soon, probably."

"Please don't say that."

"You know it's true, [Y/N]."

Yes, you did. But you never let this thought take hold of you. You couldn't even imagine losing Arthur, not having him beside you when you fall asleep, not seeing his face first thing in the morning; being unable to talk with him about what bugged you or celebrate your small victories of the day together. The mere thought of not having him in your life terrified you so much that the only thing you could do now was cling to him and burrow your face into his arm, trying to hold back tears pricking your eyes.

How much time together you had left, you wondered, how many mornings like that, when you could just sit and talk, not giving a shit about the world around you? How many times you'll be able to cuddle up to him and feel his warmth, before death rips him out of your embrace? You didn't know, you couldn't know, and that scared you the most.

"You are not dead." You repeated, raising your head, your voice quiet and trembling with emotion. "You are not dead."

You didn't even know when your lips found his, clashing against them in a desperate and messy kiss. You were aware that you could possibly contract TB this way, but at that very moment you couldn't care less about that. You needed Arthur, you needed to feel him, feel that he was indeed alive and here with you. So you were kissing him passionately until you felt light in your head, clinging to him even more after he took you in his arms and pressed tightly against his chest.

You straddled him and deepened the kiss, pushing your tongue into his welcoming mouth. Arthur was kissing you back like a starved man and you could feel his arousal grow with every second of your makeout. He couldn't keep his hands to himself and touched you wherever they could reach. You purred contentedly when they grabbed and squeezed your ass, rewarding your man with a solid rut against his bulge. He let out a shaky moan and bucked his hips up to feel more so needed friction, grinding his hardening length desperately against your still clothed crotch.

"I want you, Arthur." You gasped out, trying to catch your breath between moans his moves elicited. "Oh fuck..."

"I'll take you from behind." He suggested, kneading your rear again.

"No, I want to see your face."

"And I don't want to accidentally cough in yours."

You snorted softly, resting your forehead against his.

"Okay cowboy, fair enough. We'll do it your way." You pecked his nose and dismounted him, taking in the effect you had on your man. Disheveled, panting, and sprawled in suggestively crumpled sheets, with that ravenous gaze he was devouring you with and a noticeable bulge between his seductively spread legs, he was a sight to behold.

A vile idea crossed your mind while fumbling with your buckle. You could give Arthur a little show and reveal your body piece by little piece, take your clothes off in a tantalizingly slow pace to whet his appetite even more. But one look at him made it obvious that it was completely unnecessary; it's been weeks since you two made love, his appetite was worked up enough at this point. And yours too, so you abandoned that idea and undressed as quickly as you could, throwing your clothes at the sofa. You could have just carelessly slung them on the floor, but you had to set a good example for your cowboy. You may be in heat and still have some manners.

"You too." You pointed at his underwear with your chin. "Off with that, I want to see you naked."

You were watching in anticipation as he undid the buttons, one after another, and shrugged his union suit off his arms. When he made sure your eyes were riveted on him, he slid it past his hips, revealing his half hard dick. You moaned excitedly when he gave it a few strokes, before removing his underwear completely and throwing it towards the sofa with a satisfied grin.

He didn't waste any more time; before you even opened your mouth to beg him to finally fill you, he crawled to you, caught you in his arms, and tossed on the bed. He managed to steal one more kiss before he rolled you over and positioned exactly how he wanted you - with your chest pressed against the mattress and your ass in the air. At that point, even without any proper stimulation, you were wet and wanting as hell. Arthur sure noticed that, but even though, he still took time to prepare you for his thrusting. He slid two fingers along your dripping slit, only to put them in you a moment later. He pumped them into your cunt in a steady pace, reveling in your soft breathy moans, and when he made sure he had you ready and aching for more, he withdrew his fingers and aligned himself with your entrance. Before he slipped in, he slid his now so deliciously hard dick up and down between your folds a couple of times, letting out a shaky moan when you moved in unison with him.

He couldn't take it anymore, so he finally entered you, with a firm thrust that left you breathless. Before you regained even a semblance of your composure, Arthur grabbed your hips and withdrew from you almost completely, then pushed into you again with full force. You felt so good around his length that he was nearly unable to control himself. He began rocking into you almost immediately, every thrust deep and forceful, followed by his guttural groans. And a muffled cough from time to time.

It felt amazing to be filled with his cock again, to feel it move inside your cunt. You tried to buck your hips towards his to get even more delicious friction, but his firm grip kept you in place. He intended to use you as he pleased and damn, that was hot. So hot that you had to bury your face in the sheets your hands were desperately clutching to stifle your wailing. Arthur didn't particularly like that, so he suddenly slowed his thrusting and reached for your arms. He forced you to lift your head when he pulled you up and pressed your back against his still pretty muscular chest.

"Let me hear you." He whispered softly in your ear and you nodded, purring contentedly when his lips sucked on your neck, leaving a mark on your skin.

His hips sped up their movements again, setting a steady rhythm, while his lips continued peppering your neck and arm with tender kisses. You definitely liked this position better - you could be closer with Arthur, feel his warmth and rapid heartbeat; he could freely explore your body, and he eagerly did. His calloused palms were tracing your sides up and down and kneading your breasts, while he fucked you in earnest, murmuring sweet words in your ear. The angle of his thrusts was perfect, his cock was hitting the right spot and sending sparks of unadulterated pleasure through your entire body with every move. You loved every second of it and let your man know about that by repeatedly crying out his name, not giving a single damn about the fact that the patrons sitting currently in the saloon downstairs probably heard it all.

"I'm close." Arthur groaned out, pulling you even tighter against his body and holding in place by wrapping his arm around your neck.

His thrusts became erratic, his desperate pounding made slapping sounds against your skin. You felt his hot ragged breath on the back of your neck, where he buried his face in a moment later to muffle his loud moan as he came hard, spilling his warm seed inside your cunt. That feeling set you aflame, you were so close, but still needed some additional stimulation to reach your orgasm. You begged in your thoughts that Arthur's hand would find a way between your legs, slink in there to rub your clit and make you come undone on his throbbing dick. Sadly, nothing like that happened. Your cowboy rode his climax out completely and then unexpectedly slipped out of your heat, leaving you empty and so cruelly unsatisfied.

"I'm sorry, love. I need a moment." He explained with an apologetic smile as he lay down on his back, trying to catch his breath. He also coughed a few times, covering his mouth with his wrist.

"It's fine. I think I can help myself here." You decided, ogling his post-orgasm body from head to toe, and straddled him. You felt his semen dribble out of you slowly when you sat on his lap, and it made you even more aroused than before, but you waited patiently until he rested a while and calmed his breathing.

When he seemed ready, you positioned yourself above his slowly softening, but still hard enough for your purpose dick, and grinded against it. You found the perfect angle pretty quickly and set a satisfying pace, making your clit slide up and down his gently pulsing member with the right amount of pressure. To your delight, Arthur wasn't only passively watching you work up your bliss; he propped himself up on one elbow and reached to your breasts, caressing them and rubbing your nipples with his thumb.

"Oh shit, fucking hell! Arthur!" You sobbed as you sped up the movements of your hips, rutting your bud vigorously against his shaft, while his hand played with your tits. It didn't take long before you threw your head back and wailed uncontrollably, as your orgasm hit you hard and spread through your body, shaking it and leaving you completely breathless.

When your ecstasy subsided and your wits came back to you, you felt remorseful for getting so carried away with your emotions that you let your desire take over you completely. You shouldn't have done this. Your moment of pleasure might have provoked another violent coughing fit, or even caused Arthur to lose his consciousness and worsened his condition. But one look at your beloved man, lying under you as relaxed as he hadn't been in weeks and beaming a contented smile at you, washed your guilt away. That moment of respite from all that shit going on around you lately, when all the problems went away and you could feel like all that mattered was you two, was probably worth the risk.

"You okay there?" You asked, dismounting your cowboy and plopping down beside him.

"Better than okay."

"Yeah, I can see that." You dragged a finger across his deliciously hairy chest. "So I don't have to apologize for jumping at you like that?"

"No. If someone should apologize for anything here, it's probably me. [Y/N], I'm sorry if I made you upset with what I said before. But I just want to be sincere with you instead of pulling the wool over your eyes and lying that I could get better, just to give you false hope. I won't get better, [Y/N]. And you know that."

"I do" You admitted somberly. "but a part of me, that idiot one I suppose, still believes in a miracle. Less with every passing day, but I still do."

You sat up and moved closer to him, feeling your heart flutter in your chest under his tender gaze, full of unadulterated love. Your hand cupped his face, his two days' worth of stubble tickled your thumb affectionately caressing his cheek.

"I don't know what future will bring to us." You whispered softly. "But I know for sure that whatever happens, I'll stay with you till the end."

"I know, [Y/N]. I trust you."

You pressed your lips against his, threading your fingers through his messy hair. Arthur kissed you back, gently and slowly at first, like he always did when you were alone and in post-coital bliss, but it turned into passionate and heated kissing very quickly. You didn't even realize when you landed under him, trapped in his arms and pinned to the mattress by his warm body.

You had no idea how much time with your beloved man you had left, but in that moment you made a decision to cherish every second of it, instead of wasting it by succumbing to your fears.