#[GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] ‘WAAAAH WAAAAH’

[ihrttherain]

I'm re reading iwbft and

"it's always been sort of Rowan and Jimmy, plus Lister. We still love him of course. But that's just the way it is."

OUFHHHH OH GOF AUGHHHHJ

[aerticent]

my love for Maven has evolved into something and no matter how hard i try i cannot put it into words and it’s driving me crazy

[calxology]

rockstar scara wip

[rubctosis]

"Pleaaaasseeee? One little kissie? One smooch for the road? You know, I could die tomorrow...!"

  

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐈𝐓  𝐈𝐒…𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒  𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃'𝐒  𝐔𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋  𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘  𝐎𝐅  𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐌.  with  an  arch  of   a  brow,  golden  calculative  hues  glinting  with  a  mix  of  exasperation  and  reluctant  amusement  as  he  leaned  back  against  the  edge  of  his  desk.  The  dim  light  of  the  room  cast  soft  shadows  across  his  features,  accentuating  the  faint,  pale  patches  of  vitiligo  on  his  otherwise  sun-kissed  skin  and  the  subtle  glint  from  the  metal  of  his  piercings.  He  crossed  his  arms  over  his  chest,  the  tattoos  on  his  fingers  flexing  as  he  drummed  them  against  his  bicep.   ㅤㅤ❝   You  could  die  tomorrow,  huh  ?         ❞    ㅤㅤㅤ   he  echoed,  his  voice  low  and  laced  with  dry  sarcasm.   ㅤㅤ❝   You  do  realize  you’ve  said  that  every  day  this  week,  Vash-ya        ❞    ㅤㅤㅤ   .

the  surgeon  sighed,  his  hand  dragging  down  his  face  in  mock  exasperation  as  he  listened  to  Vash's  exaggerated  plea.  The  blond  man  had  that  look  again  —  puppy-dog  eyes  shining  with  an  unrelenting  mix  of  seriousness  and  melodrama,  lips  just  slightly  pursed  as  if  already  imagining  the  kiss  he'd  coax  from  his  reluctant  grumpy.  this  hopeless  idiot  was  the  won  to  actually  win  the  heart  of  this  stoic  surgeon.

  ㅤㅤ❝   You  know  I  am  a  doctor,  right  ?  I'm  not  letting  any  harm  come   to  you.         ❞    ㅤㅤㅤ    Law  muttered,  but  there  was  no  real  bite  in  his  tone.  Law  stared  at  the  blond  for  a  long  moment,  the  dramatic  display  before  him  teetering  on  the  edge  of  absurdity.  The  pout,  the  exaggerated  gestures,  and  those  ridiculous  pleading  eyes  —  it  was  all  so  typically  Vash  that  it  almost  made  Law  roll  his  own.  Almost.  Instead,  with  a  sigh  that  carried  the  weight  of  reluctant  affection,  he  reached  out,  grabbing  the  front  of  Vash’s  bright  red  coat.

  ㅤㅤ❝ You’re  impossible,           ❞    ㅤㅤㅤ   Law  muttered,  pulling  him  closer  with  a  firm  tug  making  the  other  purposely   stumble  forward,  making  his  theatrics  momentarily  disrupted  as  he  found  himself  inches  away  from  Law’s  face.  For  all  his  dramatic  bravado,  there  was  a  flicker  of  genuine  surprise  in  Vash’s  aqua-blue  eyes  when  Law’s  hand  shifted,  his  thumb  grazing  the  sharp  line  of  his  jaw.  it  sort  of  touched  law  a  certain  way.  made  him  feel  prideful  in  pulling  a  reaction  from  him. 

law  leaned  in  slowly,  his  gaze  dropping  to  the  blond's  lips  before  closing  the  distance.  The  kiss  was  deliberate,  precise,  and  unhurried,  much  like  the  man  himself.  His  lips  pressed  against  Vash’s  with  a  surprising  softness,  the  warmth  of  it  starkly  contrasting  his  usual  sharp  demeanor.  It  was  a  kiss  with  weight.  one  that  deepened  as  soon  as  it  began.  a  kiss  that  poured  all  the  unspoken  words  law  couldnt  bring  himself  to  say  aloud  at  times.   pierced  lips  twitched  —  just  barely  —  but  he  schooled  his  expression  back  into  its  usual  stoicism.    ㅤㅤ❝ there           ❞    ㅤㅤㅤ    Law  said,  his  voice  low  and  steady.

      ㅤ     ㅤㅤㅤ    ㅤㅤ—ㅤㅤ❝  One  kiss  for  the  road.  Now  stop  whining.         ❞    ㅤㅤㅤ  

[insanemetalhead]

HIIII. [C AR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] ‘GOOD LORD!’ [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] ‘WAAAAH WAAAAH’ [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG... MY LEG...’

A COUGH friend of mine really likes madmask and I tried out medibang,

Skibidi Hashtag swag!

[mudboowl]

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] ‘GOOD LORD!’ [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] ‘WAAAAH WAAAAH’ [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG... MY LEG...’

[carpenfaist]

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] 'GOOD LORD!' [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] 'WAAAAH WAAAAH' [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] 'WE'RE REPORTING LIVE- '[EXPLOSION] 'MY LEG... MY LEG...'

[kenm4vhs]

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] "GOOD LORD!" [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] "WAAAAH WAAAAH" [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] "WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-" [EXPLOSION] "MY LEG... MY LEG..."

[cyalms]

KSJA AIANAVAIS. SJA DJDKR AKAJ RMSKEBEBEKD DHEIEHEJD D AJAHDHAKA SJSOAND SISJS D SHSISNS EJSJSBANS SKLAHF WKAODNDIALS. S

COME GET YOUR SLOP.

[that-dumb-dinosaur]

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] "GOOD LORD!" [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] "WAAAAH WAAAAH" [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] "WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-" [EXPLOSION] "MY LEG... MY LEG..."

[ixorahh]

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] ‘GOOD LORD!’ [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] ‘WAAAAH WAAAAH’ [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG... MY LEG...’

the original photos btw if u care

[rubctosis]

In lieu of gaining a kiss, Law would instead be the benefactor. Haste had played a dire role in their entanglement; headfirst proposals and little thought spent. Thus while they equally cradled a bottle of aged whiskey, Boothill would lean a touch close, would let their fingers - steel, flesh - meet on one too many occasions. Upon one particularly harsh gulp, one likely meant to drive away his mind, to force silence into a loud mind, Boothill would put aside the sips-left bottle to instead encircle Law's chin, chilly fingertips keeping him firmly in-place.

"Don't think nothin' of this."

Before Law can voice any which thing, their lips met in a gentle glide. Separated by a mere breath, the outlaw pressed into him, tilted his head to capture the best angle, guided their lips together in a more decisive clash. No teeth, no tongue, simply a... "welcome back," an embrace after a morning, noon spent out.

Departing, Boothill kept his hold, kept his thumb on the prominent piercing on his lip.

"You watch yourself, okay?"

ofhope  sent: kiss the doctor // always accepting ♡

    𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐘  𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃,  𝐁𝐔𝐓  𝐈𝐓  𝐖𝐀𝐒  𝐀  𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍  𝐋𝐀𝐖  𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃. The  heat  rolling  down  his  throat  was  a  distraction,  a  temporary  solace  from  the  weight  of  a  thousand  spinning  thoughts.   though  typically  reserved,  the  surgeon  had  found  himself  spending  more  and  more  time  in  the  company  of  the   outlaw  .  Their  paths  had  collided  under  circumstances  born  of  necessity  —   overlapping  routes  and  a  mutual  understanding  that  neither  cared  to  overanalyze.  What  began  as  a  calculated  ❛   partnership   ❜  had  grown  into  something  far  more  .  .  .   intricate  as  they  traversed  back  roads,  ghost  towns,  and  endless  stretches  of  barren  desert  and  the  endless  span  of  the  seas.  The  dim  light  of  the  room  played  tricks  on  the  amber  liquid  in  the  bottle,  and  he  stared  into  it  like  it  held  the  answers  to  questions  he  wouldn’t  dare  ask  aloud.  Boothill’s  proximity  was  something  he  was  only  half-aware  of  —  a  subtle  hum  at  the  edge  of  his  thoughts,  like  a  storm  on  the  horizon.

   ㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤ—ㅤUntil  it  wasn’t.

The  first  brush  of  their  fingers  was  nothing;  fleeting,  ignorable.  The  second  lingered  too  long.  .  .   the  third  spoke  volumes  &&   Law  wasn’t  sure  he  wanted  to  hear.  His  sharp  eyes  flicked  to  the  outlaw,  the  glint  in  Boothill’s  gaze  unsettlingly  sure.  Law  didn’t  look  away,  but  he  didn’t  speak  either.  What  could  he  say?  That  the  closeness  felt  foreign  but  not  unwelcome?  That  he  couldn’t  decide  if  the  flicker  of  warmth  in  his  chest  was  curiosity,  irritation,  or  something  else  ?

The  bottle  was  gone  before  he  could  process  its  absence,  metallic  fingers  tilting  his  chin  upward.  The  coolness  of  their  touch  contrasted  sharply  with  the  heat  that  slowly  rose  to  Law’s  face,  the  sudden  tension  pulling  at  every  muscle.  He  narrowed  his  eyes,  lips  parting  to  voice  the  protest  forming  on  his  tongue,  but  the  words  never  had  a  chance.  The  kiss  was  softer  than  it  had  any  right  to  be,  a  gentle,  deliberate  glide  that  contradicted  everything  Law  expected.  His  first  instinct  was  to  pull  back,  to  sever  the  contact  and  reassert  the  boundaries  he  usually  kept  locked  tight.  But  the  taller  man  didn’t  give  him  a  chance  to  think,  their  grip  firm,  their  presence  inescapable.  The  second  press  of  their  lips  was  more  assertive,  a  question  with  an  answer  Boothill  seemed  to  already  know.

   ㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤ—ㅤAnd  then  it  was  over.

 the  surgeon's  breath  came  shallow,  his  lips  tingling  from  the  contact.  the  other's  metallic  thumb  rested  on  his  lip  piercing,  the  faint  pressure  grounding  him  when  his  mind  felt  anything  but.  his  words  —  simple,  unadorned  —  cut  through  the  haze.

   ㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤ—ㅤYou  watch  yourself,  okay?"

A  sharp  exhale  escaped  him,  halfway  between  a  sigh  and  a  scoff.  His  gaze  burned  with  a  mixture  of  confusion  and  indignation  as  he  leaned  back,  putting  just  enough  distance  between  them  to  reclaim  some  semblance  of  control.  ㅤㅤ❝  I  don’t  need  your  concern   .  ❞   ㅤㅤㅤ  he  said,  his  voice  low  and  even,  though  the  slight  tremor  betrayed  him.  His  thumb  brushed  absently  over  the  cold  metal  of  the  metal  limb..  ㅤㅤ❝  Or...whatever  that  was.  .  ❞   ㅤㅤㅤ   

But  he  didn’t  let  go.  Not  yet.  Instead,  he  stared  into  the  outlaw’s  eyes,  searching  for  something   —   an  explanation,  a  reason,  anything  to  justify  the  uninvited  tenderness  that  had  momentarily  unraveled  him.  Law’s  lips  parted  again,  this  time  with  more  conviction,  but  the  words  he  wanted  refused  to  come.  Finally,  with  a  reluctant  sigh,  inked  fingers  interlaced  themselves  with  the  outlaw's.  the  tension  in  his  shoulders  slowly  ebbing. 

  ㅤㅤ❝  You’re  insufferable     .  ❞   ㅤㅤㅤ  he  muttered,  though  the  insult  lacked  its  usual  venom.  His  gaze  was  drawn  to  the  outlaw's  hand,  and  his  brow  furrowed  as  his  eyes  traced  the  metal.  It  had  always  fascinated  him,  the  intricate  design  and  the  craftsmanship  behind  the  metal  limb.  But  now,  it  was  something  more.  It  was  an  extension  of  the  man,  a  part  of  them  he  couldn’t  ignore,  and  it  drew  his  gaze  more  than  ever.  his  curiosity.  .   fingers  tightened,  and  he  tilted  his  head  up  to  meet  the  taller  man's  gaze  once  more.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ  ㅤㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤ  ㅤHe  closed  the  space  between  them  once  more,  the  kiss  just  as  chaste  and  careful  as  the  last,  but  this  time  there  was  no  hesitation.  No  doubt.  His  hand  slipped  free,  and  he  buried  his  fingers  in  the  fibers  of  the  long  locks  of  the  other's  hair  —  palm  against  the  back  of  his  head,  pulling  the  other  closer,  the  kiss  growing  deeper,  more  intense.

It  was  a  moment  of  vulnerability  Law  allowed  no  one  else  to  see,  a  glimpse  into  the  man  beneath  the  cold,  calculated  mask  he  so  carefully  maintained.

[rubctosis]

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇, 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  coated in venom and whiskey fumes. Law listened, his expression unreadable, save for the faint narrowing of his eyes at the mention Corporate greed. Ruined lives. A trail of corpses left to rot in the name of misplaced justice. His thoughts moved swiftly, analyzing the gaps in this individual's story, weighing the truth against the bravado. The flicker of something familiar—a disdain for the corrupt, the entitled, the careless - but it was tempered by his natural skepticism. Was this cowboy just another self-styled vigilante with a hero complex, or was there more beneath the surface? a cold calculative golden gaze lingered on this man as though peeling back layers of flesh and metal to examine beneath. His mind flicked to the many wanted posters that carried his own face, plastered across towns. cities. and could remember the details of his description from the IPC's wanted list. not like it was his business to begin with. he had his fair share of .. events that lead to his name there   — law's  already  ever-present  frown seems  to  deepen  further,  the  tiredness  beneath  his  eyes  accentuated  by  the current situation.  Law’s silhouette cut an imposing figure; long legs crossed at the knee, one gloved hand resting on the hilt of Kikoku at his side. His hat, with its spotted brim, cast a faint shadow over his sharp features, but his piercing gold-amber eyes gleamed from beneath it, steady and unflinching as they fixed on the man. Those eyes, flecked with the barest hint of irritation, scanned Boothill with the precision of a surgeon preparing for an incision—taking note of the sloppiness in his movements, the bravado in his speech, the glint of recklessness in his antics.

The click of metal against his temple had drawn no immediate reaction, save for a faint arch of his brow. his choice of words were . . . unique.  It was neither the first time he’d been threatened in such a manner, nor would it be the last. His vitiligo-marked skin, pale but speckled with the distinct patches around his hands and neck, contrasted with the darker ink of tattoos snaking up his forearms, his fingers adorned with the letters "𝑫 𝑬 𝑨 𝑻 𝑯" as if to punctuate the point that HE was no ordinary traveler. The sunlight  from the bar’s grimy window caught the edge of his earrings—small gold loops swaying slightly as he tilted his head and let out a slow,  exhale through his nose.

 ❝ Southern hospitality . .  ❞  he repeated, his voice low and even, ❝ Is that what this is supposed to be? A gun to the temple and a lecture about morality ? ❞ The syllables rolled off his tongue with a measured cadence - He watched the cowboy hop behind the bar with an indifferent expression, The glint of whiskey catching the light drew his attention briefly. He watched the amber liquid swirl in Boothill's glass, the way the man handled it—reckless, with a swagger born of arrogance and an unshakable belief in his own narrative. Law didn’t need the cowboy's long-winded tirade to dissect the man's motivations; it was all there, plain as day, in his posture, his tone, and the way his fingers drummed a restless cadence against the bottle’s neck. That bottle, alone, was worth the price of a decent meal. Law's hand twitched, almost instinctively, ready to reach for the weapon at his side. but he hesitated. His instincts, honed over the years, told him to cut the man's heart out. It was an instinct he had long since learned to tame.

For the moment, at least.

❝ Rat you out ? ❞  he echoed, his voice now laced with quiet venom. The question lingered in the air, an unspoken challenge. ❝ Do I look like someone who would sell you out to the nearest bounty hunter?  ❞  he scoffed, inked fingers flexed at his side, knuckles cracking audibly as his grip on Kikoku tightened. pierced lips pressed into a thin line. as if a wanted man would be so foolish to apporach the people seeking them out. ❝ So, no. I won't run. But if you plan on starting a shoot-out, make sure you don’t miss  ❞

It was a clear threat. Law's patience was running thin, but he had no intention of escalating things further. At least, not unless the cowboy made the first move.

“Ain't you ever heard of 'southern hospitality'?” click, metal to his temple. “'Jus kiddin'. It does beg the question, though: why haven't you tried runnin' for your life yet? Ain't you heard of a wanted man on the prowl?”

Eyes traced the flow of his whiskey; recalled the slide, flames trailing its descent. Steadying his gaze, Boothill brought his attention back to the hat in question, his fingertips tracing the brim of his offered treasure, near relieved the stranger had refused. Impulse control wasn't one of the cowboy's powerhouses, the slightest glimmer inspiring a half-thought-out escapade, 'n that design? Sure, it didn't sparkle or shine, but boy if it wasn't a sight. In a motion fueled by clicks and clatter, Boothill climbed over the bartop, spied eagerly the spirits hidden from view, the fancy stuff the barkeep usually kept below 'em, nestled in that 'lil nook.

“Guy was one of them corporate shirtbags. Fudged up more lives than you or I can count, was on the path of fudgin' up some more. He considered himself a whistleblower, tryin' to make himself out to be some sorta' selfless acehole, but he only did it to save his own skin in a scheme he concocted. He sold off a lotta' land to a bunch'a no good people, even though there were plenty of good folk keepin' an eye on it. They wanted to build some free-housing, put up some shelters for the needy... 'n the duckstick sells it to a money-hungry millionaire who's wantin' to make himself a billionaire,” bottles clinked as uncareful hands waded through them, some smashing to the floor, pieces dancing around the glossy tiles. “Once he got backlash for it, he opted to blame his 'peers,' the ones that shine his boots 'n serve him breakfast on a silverplate. Folks who're just tryin' to make themselves a livin', forced to be treated worse than dirt.”

With a wheeze of laughter and a holler of victory, a cork was popped.

“Y'see, he's just one in a long line of aceholes I plan on puttin' in the ground. If it weren't for my shirty mornin', he would've gotten off better. Not alive, but he would'a gotten a few less holes in his skull. What's gonna' leak out, bits of his 'good nature'? He ain't ever had none of that.”

Dropping his head back, Boothill emptied the contents of the drink, down to the last sip. Down his throat, wetting his cogs, the fragility of his framework -- not as fragile as it could be, mind you. The sum Boothill accumulated wasn't a pretty one, 'n after going through all of that he got taken out by an open wire? He'd come back outta' spite.

“So, after all'a that... you plan on ratting me out? Maybe start a shoot-out, see if you can get the big, bad wanted man. I'll warn ya: it won't be as easy as you're thinkin'.”

[syadoodles]

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] ‘GOOD LORD!’ [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] ‘WAAAAH WAAAAH’ [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG... MY LEG...’

(i’m so sorry to my followers and moots who have to witness my descent into insanity)

[ripleyscullies]

also found this pic during my sleuthing and…..

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] 'GOOD LORD!' [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] 'WAAAAH WAAAAH' [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] 'WE'RE REPORTING LIVE- '[EXPLOSION] 'MY LEG... MY LEG...

[lettucing]

CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] ‘GOOD LORD!’ [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] ‘WAAAAH WAAAAH’ [YELLING] [POLICE SIRENS] WEEWOO WEEWOO [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG... MY LEG...’