#Boss 351

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1971 FORD MUSTANG BOSS 351

Wow, what a classic! This stunning white Mustang is a sight to behold. Let's dive into ten amazing facts about the Ford Mustang Boss 351:

1. Distinctive Styling: The Boss 351 featured unique styling cues, including a shaker hood, side stripes, and a front grille that set it apart from other Mustangs.

2. Powerful Engine: The Boss 351 was equipped with a 351 cubic inch V8 engine that produced a substantial amount of horsepower and torque.

3. Racing Heritage: The Boss 351 was designed with racing in mind and was a formidable competitor on the track.

4. Collector's Item: Due to its rarity and performance, the Boss 351 is a highly sought-after collector's car.

5. High Auction Prices: Original Boss 351s have sold at auction for millions of dollars, making them one of the most valuable classic cars.

6. Resurrection: In recent years, Ford has revived the Boss 351 nameplate for modern Mustang models, offering enthusiasts a chance to experience this iconic performance package.

7. Shelby Connection: While not officially a Shelby car, the Boss 351 was influenced by Carroll Shelby's design philosophy.

8. Enduring Popularity: The Boss 351's timeless design and legendary performance have ensured its enduring popularity.

9. Iconic Status: The Boss 351 is considered one of the most iconic Mustangs of all time, a testament to its racing prowess and distinctive style.

10. Driving Experience: The Boss 351 offers an exhilarating driving experience, combining raw power with precise handling. So, what are you waiting for? Get behind the wheel of a Ford Mustang Boss 351 and experience the thrill of driving a true automotive legend!

[bigboppa01]

1971

Boss 351

Mustang

.

[musclecardefinition]

1971 Ford Mustang Boss 351 Fully Documented & Restored. => For Sale!

https://www.musclecardefinition.com/

[coloursteelsexappeal]

Boss 351

[magicalflowerlight]

[spctrsgf]

to his office

prompt #351 from @/lyralit: 

“I could kiss you right now.”

“You’re very welcome to do it.”

word count: 3.8k

warnings: spidey!reader (tried to make it gn, lmk if i messed anything up!), language, my shitty spanish, innuendos but no actual sex

a/n: i saw atsv and miguel was SO SCRUMPTIOUS i had to write this

“HOBIE!” You yell at the aforementioned Brit, narrowly missing a chunk of some building that is being thrown at you. “I bloody know!” He yells back, swinging from the building next to you.

You nudge your head to the left as a signal to him, releasing a quick whip of web to maneuver behind a rough, brick building to land on the side of it. Hobie wasn’t too far behind, and Gwen was soon to your left as well. The three of you heave in heavy breaths, synchronous in your silence. The inevitable stomp of the angry anomaly of the week roams in search of the very people next to you as well as yourself. 

“She just does not give up, does she?” Hobie quips, filling the silence.

“Well,” Gwen adds. “We did make her angry.”

“We? You were the one who threw a brick at her, mate.”

“And who’s idea was it to do that?”

“It was a bloody joke!”

“It didn’t sound like it–”

“Okay!” You exclaim, cutting their childish argument in half. “Enough. Back to defeating the Wannabe Crab woman, okay?”

“Right,” Hobie answers, quick to drop his anger like usual. “What’s the plan, boss?”

“We gotta trap him somewhere, but this fucking city is endless. It’ll take forever.”

“I think we gotta get her hands tied,” Pavitr says from above, nearly desticking Gwen from the brick wall in surprise. “That’s where the power is, right?”

“Jeez, Pav,” You yelp, coming down from your initial shock. “We didn’t see ya there.”

“I know, and I’m sorry for scaring you, but seriously. I think we gotta tie her hands!”

“He’s right, that would solve all the cement throwing we got going on.” Hobie agrees, shifting to lean on the windowsill next to him.

You tilt your head. “Do ya think webs’ll be strong enough for that one?”

“Ours? Nah.” 

“True, but Miguel’s would do us a solid right now with all this.” Pav interjects.

“He’s right. We need those ever so strong webs your boyfriend has to do the job.” Gwen nudges you with her shoulder.

Your cheeks flame, and you’re eternally grateful for the silky mask you have on. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Gwen! We’re not– he doesn’t– oh my god,” You pinch the bridge of your nose as best you can through the mask. “Back on topic!”

“Seriously,” Hobie nods. “You should ask the lad to help us out.”

“Why don’t you do it?”

All you get is a shrug from him.

“Or you, Gwen? Or Pav?”

They all give you a look, a look that tells you exactly what they’re thinking.

“No. Oh my god, guys! Seriously? He doesn’t like hearing from me, anyways.”

That’s true, you firmly believe it, and you have ever since you first got to Nueva York. Being the person you are, you originally doted around the idea of talking to him, of engaging in a conversation. But, to be frank, he scared you shitless. He towered over your stature, a whopping 6’9” to your pacifying build. But, somehow you found yourself standing next to a nonchalant Hobie, watching his floating platform float impossibly slow towards the two of you after a mission. 

He’d been… you could tell right away that Miguel wasn’t the type of person to sugar coat nor was he very good at hiding the emotions that flew across his face, because oh my you felt it. You felt the trail of his scarlet gaze as he took in his first impression, you felt the razor sharp cut of disgust, felt the way his tongue ran along his accentuated canines as you rambled through your report. 

He’d dismissed you as quickly as humanly possible, opting to talk to the laid back Brit, the one who didn’t have to clear his voice every few sentences. Maybe it was a force of habit, you’d tried to reason as your head bowed to scurry out of the room. He has been working with Hobie longer, there has to be an ease between them. 

But, as time passed, Miguel remained the same. He tossed you a cold shoulder, and seemed to avoid your presence unless needed. You tried to shrug it off, to pretend like it didn’t hurt you as much as it did, but it was hard to pretend when the sting of rejection slapped as soon as he was brought up. Which actually happened a lot. 

You weren’t sure where Gwen had gotten boyfriend from that. Sure, you thought he was attractive. It was hard not to with his broad shoulders, a stark contrast to his (slutty) waist. There was something about his fangs that intrigued you, it was something you’d never seen before. And it wasn’t just the appearance that did it for you: it was that under all the anger and the rough exterior and the mask was a man, vulnerable and caring and wanting to stop what happened to him from happening to someone else.

He might be blunt and mean and pushy and all those things, but he came from a truly caring place, from a want to help. You could see that shine through in the way Gwen and Hobie and even Lyla talked about him, and you could see that in the mission notes he writes and in the slim amount of time that you were graced with his presence. 

“That’s why.” Gwen’s voice shakes you clear of the memories. 

“Wha?” You blink incredulously at her, like that would somehow shock you into understanding her sentence. 

She shoves your wrist, which hovers in front of you with the button to call Miguel in a booming orange. “Call him.”

You glare at her, but all that earns you is a tilt of the head and a not-so-encouraging punch from Pav. “Fine! Fine.”

You take a deep breath before hitting the call button. It sends off some sort of interdimensional wave towards Nueva York, and you buzz with a different type of frequency, suddenly nervous. The Miguel effect. Your brain blurts. Always nervous. You sigh and remind yourself that there are three other spiderpeople next to you as the call goes through, and Miguel’s face pops up unceremoniously in front of you. 

“What’s wrong?” Are the first words out of his mouth. “Uh, well, you see–” You start, only to be rudely cut off by his attitude. “Get to the point. I don’t have all day.”

The blunt words don’t roll off your back like normal, maybe it was because you could hear the anomaly pound, inching closer. “We need help. We need your webs, they’re stronger and can hold this guy’s claws together. He’s been tearing up the city.”

“You’re supposed to be containing the threat, not me.”

“Miguel, if you don’t get your fucking ass over here right now, all four of us are gonna be dead.”

“Doubt it.” He sounds distracted, like he was observing something else in front of him.

“Seriously? You can’t take two seconDS..!” You cut yourself off to launch off the building as the anomaly slams her fist into the spot you were rested at just a few seconds before. 

You go to follow your partners in chasing the monster away from the buildings, to yell at the stubborn man currently still on call from the watch encircling your wrist, but your spidey senses perk up and then you’re swinging back towards the anomaly. Your eyes train on a woman, not much older than thirty, running for her life from the gnarly creature above her.

You don’t think. Normally, you’re all about thinking and finding the best course of action to try and save everyone, but you don’t now. Not when you’re so short on time, not when that woman could die. You dive, holding your arms out as you beeline to the poor woman. Her face turns from fear to relief when she sees you, reaching out to grab your hand as you scoop your arm around her waist and carry her to the nearest roof.

You’re off before she can say a word, and the glance back you lend her tells you that she knows exactly why you couldn't linger and conveys the thank you she couldn’t say to your face. It fuels you, and you move quickly, pulling the anomaly farther and farther from the people. “Are you a quiet one, huh?” The anomaly’s voice is low and gravelly. “I’m always up for a little banter.” You shoot back, taking a quick left to navigate to where you see your partners waiting, hidden and ready to attack. 

“Alrighty then, let’s banter!”

“Let’s.”

“Are you expecting me to now spew out my whole plan and sob story, cus it ain’t happening.”

You shrugged. “Nah. Most of you don’t anyway.”

“We don’t?”

“No,” You shake your head, coming to a stop. “We usually have you caught by that time.”

Right on cue, Pav, Gwen, and Hobie shoot webs out, attempting to contain the anomaly. You realize, as you're adding your own webs to the mix, that Miguel must’ve hung up the phone during your little fright. “What happened with the boss? We getting that bloody help we need?” Hobie calls out, tightening his grip. “Dunno!” You call back. “Maybe he hung up.”

“Call him back, eh?”

“I- I can’t! This is harder than it looks.”

“We know!” Gwen screeches, voice strained.

“What do we do, guys?” 

“Try and hold on.” Pav’s voice is uncharacteristically dim, lacking its normal cheer.

His tone sinks into your stomach. “What if we don’t–” 

“You will,” Miguel’s voice crackles from your wrist. “I’m here. Where are you?”

“Uh–” You risk a look around as the anomaly struggles with a scream. “Open field. I can see an ocean from here, and there’s mountains to my right. Actually, I think it’s a river– we’re at a bend in it.”

“Got it. I know where you are, I’ll be there in a minute tops. Stay on the phone with me, okay?” 

“Will do.”

“He won’t be here in time.” You look up at the anomaly, her deep green eyes locked unsettlingly with yours. She yanks hard this time, and you see Gwen nearly topple and Hobie’s footing slip slightly, giving her arms more wiggle room. “Yes he will.” Your jaw sets as you shoot another web to wrap around her wrist, yanking her down onto her knees.

“You’ll lose. Wouldn’t that be crazy? Spiderman. Losing.”

“Crazy? Yeah, cus it won’t happen.” Gwen grunts from above, struggling to keep a clean facade.

“I’m almost there, cariño, hold on.”

“I am, we’re fine–”

And then you’re not. Because the anomaly bursts up in a spur of movement, effectively breaking the confinement you four had put on her. She runs forward, taking a straight track for you. You leap up, swinging away as quickly as you can. You pick through the strain on your forearms, through the cloud of fear in your head. You try to stay in the same general area you told him you’d be in, but it’s hard with the anomaly on your heels. 

“Miguel! Help, she’s chasing me, I can only keep her away from me for so long–”

“I know, I know, I’m coming. Hold on.”

But you’re not responding anymore. The anomaly swings a mighty claw straight into your abdomen, effectively sending you into the ground. Pav lets out a scream, sliding to catch you before you can slam into the grass, and Miguel knows something is wrong. You can hear his yells and Pav’s telling you to respond, but the pain in your side is excruciating and your brain feels like mush and your mouth is dry like sandpaper and your vision is tunneling into black and you try to speak but–

…

It’s very dark.

That’s the first thing you notice when you come to. It’s nice. But there’s an off putting feeling about it, like something’s lurking in the dark, and then you’re itching to turn on the lights so you can see something. “You have something covering your eyes, you do realize that.” Miguel’s smooth tone slides in from the left, decorating across the bland abyss.

Ah. So that was the problem.

Your arms feel foreign as you reach up to pull the fabric off your eyes, exposing you to the room you were in, only slightly brighter than before. “Lyla said the mask was supposed to help you heal better,” Miguel starts, and you can’t quite bring yourself to look at the man next to you quite yet. “I listened, she’s better at this than I am.”

“Am I not in the infirmary?” You question, before frowning at the way your voice sounded. You sit up, clearing it a few times.

“You were, but I moved you.” 

“Why?”

“I didn’t want you in there.” He answered bluntly, yet it lacked any substance at all.

“Why?”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

You chuckled dryly. “Miguel, you moved me from the fucking infirmary to your office. I think you owe me a damn explanation.”

“No.” He turns away, slinging a web out to launch him onto his floating platform.

“Miguel–” 

“No.” The orange screens encircle him, effectively slamming his hard tone into the flow of conversation that wasn’t really flowing anymore.

You frown, half sat up in the bed that he’d placed you on. You’re frustrated, you don’t understand what’s been going on between you and him. He hated you. You’d previously established that, his vibrant reaction to your question confirmed it. But he saved you. And he moved you into his fucking office. 

Your head swims with this new information, and you flop back down unceremoniously onto the bed. Your head tilts automatically to him again, the fiery red in the bleak, monotone room. His back is to you, and he’s furiously tapping at something on one of his many screens. The boldness of his stature, the way he’s standing is so unwelcoming that you’re now sure he never really wanted you there at all.

You sit up and hop out of the bed as quietly as you can, even though you know he can probably hear you in the silence that enveloped you both. Yet he doesn’t react, he doesn’t turn and yell like you thought he might. He stayed stoically and almost stubbornly facing his screens, so you turn and slip towards the door.

Fucking say something, Miguel.

He doesn’t. You don’t know what you expected anyways. 

So you continue your walk, your path out of noose that the room brought. Yet, steps to the hallway seem harder and harder to make, like the hallway is getting longer or maybe you’re moving a lot slower than you normally do. You move to shoot a web, hoping to gain traction and move somewhat faster, but you can’t quite get your aim right– 

And then your vision is fluctuating and you start to feel unbalanced. You’re not moving. You’re moving your feet, but you’re not going anywhere. Your brain is fuzzy and the ground is getting closer than it normally is- you don’t remember being this short? “Ay, cariño!” Is exclaimed from behind you, and then something’s grabbing onto your back and pulling you back upright.

Miguel has his arm wrapped around your waist as you wobble, guiding you back to the bed and then lifting you up to sit on it. Your hands come up to rub your eyes, trying to get them to refocus. They blur and then unblur, finally resting to take in your wobbly hands, which are held out shakily in front of you. In response, you twist your hands together just enough to feel the pain of it, reminding you that you were in fact awake and aware. 

“Are you okay?” It’s then that you realize that Miguel is still in front of you. He’s got you caged in, blanketing you in his grand shadow. Your neck cranes up to reach his eyes, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t let your eyes linger during their ascent. When you meet the scarlet of his irises, you’re taken aback by the level of concern in them. Like he was actually worried about you. 

“I’m okay,” You respond, tilting your head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it.” He scoffed, but didn’t move away. “I’m not worrying.”

“If there’s one thing you’re bad at, Miguel, it’s lying.”

“I am a great liar.”

“Oh?” 

“Dios mio, cariño, yes.”

“What does that mean, anyway?,” You question, rocking backward to tuck your feet underneath your legs. “I tried to get Lyla to tell me, but she will not let the secret loose.”

He freezes. “Nothing, sorry, slip of the tongue.”

“You do realize I can just search it up, right? Would you rather me find out from the reach of the internet?”

“Not really, what if you just don’t–”

“Miguel.” You rise onto your knees, leveling your gaze with his own and resting a hand on his shoulder. “What is it? It can’t be that bad, it’s not like you’re saying you’re in love with me or something.”

“Well–”

“Right, cus that would be like…” Your words tumble over him, your brain too keen on keeping your feelings, your delusions to yourself. “Te amo? Te quiero? I’m not sure…”

“Either one.”

“Yeah, so it’s not one of those, so what is it?”

He takes a deep breath, looking slightly troubled. His face twists his face up like he’d just bit into a lemon, and then you’re panicking again.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that–”

“It’s a term of endearment,” His voice stops your apologies in their tracks. “It literally means affection, but when you use it as a nickname it’s more like sweetheart or darling. Dear is another way to say it, but you get the point.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, sorry about that–”

“Don’t be,” Your head tilts with his, following the way he turns his gaze away from you in embarrassment. “I like it.”

He meets your eyes again, curiosity and hope strung in his vibrant eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah. The way you say it is so satisfying, if that makes sense.”

“You like when I speak Spanish, huh?”

You nod, and suddenly you’re the one hiding your face from his smirk. 

“Querido, mírame.”

“Miguel–”

“Ahora. I won’t ask again.”

You sigh, glaring at him. “I don’t understand you.”

“That’s okay, you’ll learn,” He leans down and then innnn, so that the two of you are practically nose to nose. “I know you can do it.”

“Do you?” Your brain is screaming at you, making you even more painfully aware of his proximity to your face, yet you somehow manage to clearly deliver the line. 

“Mhm.”

“Well, it’s only cus I’ll have the best teacher. You.” You hit his nose with your finger, catching him off guard.

“I am happy to take that title.” 

“Good.”

He hasn’t moved. Even as the room fades into silence, he hasn’t moved. He’s still so close, like you could lean in, barely four inches, and you’d be kissing him. You can smell him, a tinge of metallic blood yet so earthy and centering. It’s intoxicating: your brain is swimming and you're struggling to keep your head above the water. 

Cariño. Sweetheart. A term of endearment. You still haven’t quite wrapped your head around that, not that you’ve been given much time to mull over it. Was that him telling you that he liked you, more than a friend? Was that a normal thing, using that term? You didn’t know, but you had a feeling that would be the best confession from him you were getting, if he meant it that way at all. You were gonna have to make the leap yourself.

“Everything okay?” His hand lands on your shoulder, a gentle reminder that you’d been staring into nothingness for what must’ve been a painfully long time for him. “Yeah,” You stumble to regain your words. “Sorry, I-” 

“Spaced out.”

“Yeah.”

He nods, smiling just enough so you could see his fangs peek out. You were caught.

“Migu–”

“I could kiss you right now, you know that?”

“Huh?” stumbles stupidly out of your now slack jaw.

“I could kiss you. You’ve been staring at my lips for the past few minutes, mi amor, whether you realize it or not.”

“I have? Oh my god.”

He chases your drifting gaze, just like you did with his. “It was cute.”

“Cute is a word I never thought I’d hear come out of your mouth.”

“Cállete, you hear me? Shut up.” 

You giggle, grabbing his hand and sliding it up to fit comfortably on the back of your neck. “You wanna kiss me, O’hara? You’re very welcome to do it.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Now he’s leaning in, closing in those four painstaking inches to lock lips with you.

And it’s insane. Showstopping. Any kisses you had before then? Not even a fucking kiss. Sure, it was a bit awkward at first– mainly you, you suppose– but it worked itself out. Miguel must’ve really gotten into it, because once you swear he nipped at your bottom lip with those fangs of his, just hard enough to draw blood. Your hands, in the meantime, explored his mass of brown curls, previously smoothed back but released by your fingers.

His own hands nestled themselves in your hair, tugging on it just enough to draw a sigh out of you. He tastes like blood– surely yours– yet ever so homey. You lean into him inadvertently, so content in the moment. The rational part of your brain reminds you that you’d probably suffocate if you kissed him for much longer, but nothing in you cared very much about that fact at all. 

In the end, it’s him who takes a dip for air, who drags your face off of his reluctantly to gasp softly. You do the same, resting your forehead on his toned chest. His hand, still in your hair, guides you gently back up, just so he can absorb your appearance and vice versa. It’s crazy, taking him in like this. He looks so out of control, his hair disheveled and his lips puffy and his cheeks red, releasing air in quick puff puffs. You’re sure you’re not much better looking.

“Out of breath already?” He says, head tilted with a goofy sort of grin adorning his face. “I’m regaining it currently, don’t tease.” You puff back at him, dropping your head back onto his chest.

“Oh, but teasing you is the best part.”

You stab a finger into his side. “Be quiet.”

“If you fare like this, mi alma, you won’t last very long where we’re headed.”

Your head whips up, equal parts confusion and frustration. “First of all, I’m fine. Second of all, what?”

“C’mon.” he pulls you off the bed.

“Are we sure I can even–”

His arm is around your shoulders, hand clamped tightly around it to squeeze you reassuringly. “I got you.”

“Thanks.” Your smile towards him is mushy, but you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to care.

“De nada,” He smiles back, and you mentally note to tease him about his softness later on. “Let’s get all the way to home plate, huh?”

“Let’s.”

feel free to drop by my inbox anytime, everyone, before i run out of ideas

[cosmonautroger]

1971 Ford Mustang Boss 351

[ratsoh-writes]

And since someone will inevitably ask: here’s all the skelehoes stats! (Minus STATUS)

Sans: LV: 0, HP: 380, DF 9, AT: 12

Papyrus: LV: 0, HP: 598, DF: 21, AT: 33

Star: LV: 1, HP: 675, DF: 19, AT: 35

Honey: LV: 0, HP: 401, DF: 12, AT: 7

Red: LV: 2, HP: 512, DF: 22, AT: 28

Edge: LV: 1, HP: 700, DF: 18, AT: 33

Mal: LV: 2, HP: 663, DF: 24, AT: 29

Cash: LV: 1, HP: 351, DF: 12, AT: 20

Oak: LV: 0, HP: 290, DF 4, AT: 8

Willow: LV: 1, HP: 420, DF: 21, AT: 30

Lilac: LV: 0, HP: 308, DF: 19, AT: 28

Basil: LV: 1, HP: 399, DF: 12, AT: 6

Rust: LV: 3, HP: 478, DF: 24, AT: 27

Noir: LV: 4, HP: 400, DF: 20, AT: 29

Charm: LV:0, HP: 662, DF: 17, AT: 16

Sugar: LV: 0, HP: 700, DF: 10, AT: 14

Sparks: LV: 0, HP: 690, DF: 30, AT: 22

Salt: LV: 0, HP: 588, DF: 12, AT: 20

Lush: LV: 1, HP: 770, DF: 30, AT: 36

Pepper: LV: 1, HP: 633, DF: 25, AT: 37

Sir: LV: 1, HP: 612, DF: 22, AT: 30

Weasel: LV: 1, HP: 565, DF: 20, AT: 20

Butler: LV: 7, HP: 711, DF: 35, AT: 40

Gold: LV: 0, HP: 533, DF: 8, AT: 22

Flambé: LV: 0, HP: 498, DF: 10, AT: 12

Pesto: LV: 2, HP: 397, DF: 12, AT: 21

Pop: LV:0, HP: 574, DF: 25, AT: 12

Rhythm: LV: 0, HP: 607, DF: 20, AT: 15

G: LV: 1, HP: 94, DF: 2, AT: 5

Green: LV: 0, HP: 788, DF: 14, AT: 18

Pluto: LV: 0, HP: 492, DF: 10, AT: 25

Jupiter: LV: 0, HP: 701, DF: 12, AT: 30

Orion: LV: 1, HP: 600, DF: 13, AT: 28

Atlas: LV: 0, HP: 604, DF: 14, AT: 27

Helios: LV: 0, HP: 814, DF: 24, AT: 63

Artemis: LV: 0, HP: 42, DF: 2, AT: 2

Lord: LV: 1, HP: 427, DF: 5, AT: 21

Mutt: LV: 4, HP: 550, DF: 13, AT: 25

Wine: LV: 2, HP: 576, DF: 19, AT: 36

Coffee: LV: 9, HP: 735, DF: 25, AT: 40

Snipe: LV: 2, HP: 533, DF: 32, AT: 36

Bruiser: LV: 1, HP: 543, DF: 32, AT: 36

Ace: LV: 3, HP: 488, DF: 17, AT: 37

Slim: LV: 0, HP: 440, DF: 19, AT: 18

Butch: LV: 8, HP: 916, DF: 53, AT: 67

Boss: LV: 3, HP: 720, DF: 38, AT: 39

Peaches: LV: 0, HP: 700, DF: 45, AT: 16

Rancher: LV: 0, HP: 733, DF: 61, AT: 48

Cider: LV: 0, HP: 702, DF: 40, AT: 16

Barley: LV: 0, HP: 689, DF: 39, AT: 14

Ram: LV: 1, HP: 663, DF: 34, AT: 21

Pitch: LV: 1, HP: 676, DF: 35, AT: 18

Moose: LV: 0, HP: 650, DF: 41, AT: 20

Maple: LV: 0, HP: 678, DF: 40, AT: 19

Fisher: LV: 0, HP: 477, DF: 20, AT: 22

Jasper: LV: 0, HP: 499, DF: 19, AT: 24

Hook: LV: 1, HP: 623, DF: 18, AT: 38

Captain; LV: 1, HP: 703, DF: 18, AT: 37

Finn: LV: 0, HP: 704, DF: 18, AT: 25

Sails: LV: 0, HP: 420, DF: 13, AT: 18

Pearl: LV: 0, HP: 644, DF: 34, AT: 19

Silex: LV: 0, HP: 712, DF: 35, AT: 21

Alden: LV: 0, HP: 534, DF: 12, AT: 29

Ollivander: LV: 0, HP: 551, DF: 10, AT: 27

Hilda: LV: 0, HP: 677, DF: 11, AT: 30

Saga: LV: 0, HP, 612, DF: 10, AT: 27

Barin: LV: 1, HP: 590, DF: 18, AT: 33

Arwin: LV: 1, HP: 648, DF: 15, AT: 31

Quill: LV: 0, HP: 451, DF: 8, AT: 10

Crow: LV: 0, HP: 522, DF: 9, AT: 12

Mango: LV: 0, HP: 680, DF: 8, AT: 16

Papaya: LV: 0, HP: 613, DF: 7, AT: 13

Roost: LV: 1, HP: 571, DF: 7, AT: 26

Harpy: LV: 2, HP: 690, DF: 9, AT: 29

Gears: LV: 0, HP: 423, DF: 5, AT: 14

Compass: LV -1, HP: 444, DF: 6, AT: 17

Tempo: LV: 0, HP: 502, DF: 14, AT: 12

Vibrato: LV: 0, HP: 513, DF: 12, AT: 13

Taffy: LV: 0, HP: 530, DF: 13, AT: 16

Pudding: LV: 0, HP: 470, DF: 12, AT: 12

Partner: LV: 1, HP: 588, DF: 18, AT: 23

Rowdy: LV: 0, HP: 492, DF: 17, AT: 20

Lens: LV: 1, HP: 422, DF: 16, AT: 14

Cricket: LV: 0, HP: 450, DF: 18, AT: 17

Stitches: LV: 0, HP: 415, DF: 5, AT: 12

Tinker: LV: 0, HP: 429, DF: 6, AT: 11

[smellingofpoetry]

I thought of Beau Arlen when this song came across my playlist yesterday, so thought I’d pass it s as king in case it might inspire you. Enjoy! https://youtu.be/bTNLYeaL7No?si=oUk5owojOctRP_8i

(Songbird by Eva Cassidy)

Characters: Reader, Beau Arlen

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Reader

Warnings: fluff

Word count: 351

A/N: Hi! Here I'm answering a new request just as promised. I'm slowly answering every one of you, so don't worry if you don't get an answer immediately. I'm reading all of you and writing down everything while doing my best to fulfill your wishes. I had to admit that I wasn't a real fan of this song. It's not quite my genre, and I was worried I couldn't write anything down. Nonetheless, I managed to write something in the end; something I quite like, if I can say so myself. I'm just hoping you'll like it as well. Let me know what you think. ❤ All errors are mine.

Y/N woke up with the chirp of songbirds, which was quite common when she stayed over and slept in a van in the middle of nature. That was happening a lot lately, which meant she was supposed to be used to that sound, and yet, she couldn’t help the groan that escaped from her lips. Y/N had to admit that those little birds were helpful during work days. She has never been so on time, something even her boss appreciated. Today, though, was Saturday, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Y/N nestled a bit more under the cover, trying to find the warmth and comfort of the body next to her. She shifted a bit more, but all she could find was cold. She turned around, noticing the empty spot beside her. Y/N frowned, getting up, begrudgingly grabbing the shirt on the nearby chair. She put it on, wrapping it around her middle as she could before walking towards the door. The chilly morning air hit her in the face as soon as she was out. On her right, sitting in one of the chairs with a cup of coffee was Beau. “Hey, sleepyhead.” He smiled at her, opening one of his arms in invitation. Y/N shortened the distance and went to sit in his lap. Beau welcomed her, hugging her with his arm and pulling her closer. “'Morning.” She whispered, nestling against his warmth. Her head found the space between his neck and shoulder to lay over. “Birds again?” he asked with a hint of a smile, kissing her forehead. “Those little –” Y/N stopped herself from swearing at the first ray of the sun. “Next Saturday, we’re staying at my place.” She stated matter of factly. “Uhm, I don’t know…” Beau started, unsure, making her sit straight to look at him better. She even raised one of her brows for good measure. “I mean, we’re in the middle of nature; can see the alba, breathing fresh air and –” “I’ll make you chocolate chip pancakes.” She cut him off. “Deal!” He answered right away, making her giggle.

[lacontroller1991]

Fluff/WhumpTOBER Day 21: Deacon x F!SoSu x RJ MacCready

Day 21: Bonfire/Body Horror Masterlist Warnings: 16+, implications of role-play/intercourse Word Count: 351

The wind wisps away into the night, sending a breeze across the Commonwealth. It would be cold if there wasn’t a campfire two feet in front of your body, burning strong as a result of tender attention. The warmth and security allows you to sleep soundly, without a care in the world.

“Pfft. No way, man. You’re totally lying.” A voice, loud, causes your eyes to open. 

“Shh, keep your voice down. You’ll wake her up.” Silence falls over the camp and you feel two pairs of eyes on you, checking to make sure that you’re still asleep before returning to their conversation. “Anyways. No I am not lying. She is totally into role play. She even asked me to sign her Cooper Howard doll. The wig definitely did her in,” a second, quieter voice comments, and you can hear the grin on his face. Deciding to keep still, you continue to listen to your companions’ conversation.

“I didn’t think boss would be into the Cooper Howard roleplay.”

“You best believe it, she goes crazy for that southern drawl,” Deacon comments in a hushed, mock Southern tone as you roll your eyes. Of course he’s spinning what really happened. Yes, you happened to have a crush on Cooper Howard, but no, you did not have Deacon cosplay him, let alone sign your doll.

“So, are you guys,” MacCready hesitates and you can imagine that he’s looking down at his bandolier, fingers running over the bullets from a habit he picked up years ago. “Are you guys together?” Freezing in your sleeping back, the tension at the campfire is thick and you’re surprised that Deacon doesn’t automatically jump at the shot to expose your physical relationship with him. 

“I’m honestly not sure. We haven’t labeled anything, but I know she has feelings for me.”

“Oh. Cool. That’s totally cool,” MacCready comments with a dejected tone.

“Chin up Creedster, she has feelings for you too.” Oh the nerve of Deacon…

“I love the both of you, now shut up so I can go back to sleep.” Not another word was spoken that night.

-fin-

@unrepentantweirdo

[frenchcurious]

Ford Mustang Boss 351 1971. - source Amazing Classic Cars.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1971 Boss 351 Mustang

[bigboppa01]

[strictlyfavorites]

Mustang Boss 351 8

[kaimaciel]

Ayy! Gangstalia au but Afonso never adopted Luciano. He used to own district 55 but lost it after a tuff war. He hears about the new boss and decides to see who is running the place he used to own.

Afonso goes to a house with a big garden that he heard it's where the boss lives. There's no one at the entrance except for a young man tending to a bush. He asks "excuse me, is your boss here?"

"Are you looking for the Imperador?" He asks.

"Yes" Afonso can't help but snort. How big of a ego one must have to have such title. The man dusts his hands and invites him in. He asks if he wants some coffee before meeting the boss. Afonso kindly accepts, it was a good brew.

"I'm sorry for being nosey but by your accent I assume you're from district 351, right?"

"Indeed"

"Just visiting?"

"You could say that."

Afonso is taken to a office. The gardener requests him to sit while he takes the other chair behind the table.

"I see" he smirks "So? Liked how I'm running the place, senhor Afonso?"

"I see. A very interesting contrast. You have named yourself "Imperador", a ruler of kings, and yet you tend to your own garden like a simple gardener," Afonso said, a small smile on his face. "Dom Luciano, I presume?"

Luciano leaned against the chair, his smirk even wider. "No need for formalities. Luciano is fine. You haven't answered my question, senhor Afonso."

The air was suddenly charged, tense as each word was delivered like a blow in a combat between a current king and the one he deposed.

"I appreciate your accomplishments, senhor Luciano. You seem to be very sucessful."

"I worked hard to those accomplishments. As you can see," Luciano waved his hands, stained with mud. "I like to get my hands dirty. I believe a district can only florish as long as the bosses work for it themselves, or else all they've worked for gets... taken away."

Afonso put down the coffee. "Like I did, you mean."

"Your words, not mine."

Afonso nodded and stood up. "Thanks for your hospitality, senhor Luciano."

"Leaving already? Don't you want a tour around the new place?"

"I've seen what I wanted to see, thank you."

As Afonso turned to leave, a strong hand grabbed his wrist.

"You don't even remember me, do you?" Luciano said, his smile gone.

Afonso stared at the younger man's brown eyes, breathing slowly through his nose.

"I remember everything, Luci. Congratulations on getting what you always wanted."

With that, Afonso pulled free and left the building without looking back.

[mothmantoaflame]

Prompt: Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss

Word count:351

Characters/pairing: Steve and Eddie

A low groan from the back seat of his car makes Steve’s head whip round to see what it was, he swerves wildly when he meets a strange man’s eyes before looking back at the road as he doesn’t crash the car.

“Who the fuck are you?” He asks, trying not to sound as panicked as he was, okay there’s a stranger in his car that he didn’t notice before driving off but that’s not his fault it’s dark.

“Who am I? Who are you?” The man croaks and Steve can hear movement that he assumes is the stranger sitting up.

“And what are you doing in frank's car?” He adds

“Who’s frank? this is my car.” Steve answers “and you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Eddie.” The man tells him and Steve feels a little calmer.

“Alright I'm Steve.” He tells Eddie not sure why he felt the need to introduce himself.

“Why are you in my car?” He asks hoping for an answer that makes more sense then this whole situation as he looks for anywhere to park.

“I was tired and figured I’d wait in frank's car whilst he-“ Eddie pauses like he’s deciding what to say “-was dealing with some business.” He finishes and it’s the dodgiest answer Steve’s ever heard but he’s still in a car with a stranger so he’s not going to push it.

“Alright.” Steve accepts just as he opens his mouth a phone starts ringing.

“Yeah.” Eddie answers and Steve tries to hear the person on the other side. “Stop fussing, I'm fine just in the wrong car,” he hums as the other person talks leaning forward in his seat so that Steve can feel his breath on the side of his neck when he talks.

“Do you know where we are?” Eddie asks

“Not really.” Steve admits because in his hurry to get off the highway so he could get rid of the stranger he hadn’t read any of the road signs which in hindsight was a dumb move. Eddie hums.

“I’ll call you back.” He tells whoever’s on the phone.