#Wyatt Hunt | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bountyhaunter · 4 months ago

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TIMING: Early august, before Daiyu got injured. PARTIES: @loftylockjaw & @bountyhaunter LOCATION: 12 Mudpuppy Point SUMMARY: Remember when Daiyu saved Wyatt's location for later use? She's come to collect. CONTENT: None

There was something very strange about a lamia living so close to her. Relatively close, of course, as the homes in the Pines were scattered and it wasn’t quite like they’d be invited to the same neighborhood barbecue, but still — Daiyu was able to simply start her trek from her own home and walk in the direction of the location pin she’d saved a while back. All in all it was a nice walk, deceptively peaceful as a breeze passed through the trees and the sun shone brightly. She almost found herself humming a song — almost.

It was a strange hunt, this one. The lamia she was after was a pretty funny guy, after all, and it sucked entirely that he’d made her laugh online. Still, the prize connected to his bounty was louder than whatever hesitation she felt, especially now that she'd lost the steady income the Good Neighbors had brought. It was easy, if you removed your heart: Wyatt the lamia would supply most of her rent for the month.

She was observing the other from her bushes, not a large fan of this battleground but not feeling too badly either. It seemed he had a well-stocked kitchen, so maybe she’d be able to get something more out of this — though that wasn’t her most pressing issue. The lamia was splayed out in the sun, reptilian skin baking in the rays. It was large. Really large. The bounty listing had failed to mention that. Daiyu had expected a large alligator, not a fucking dinosaur-esque creature.

But a challenge was always met. It also felt a little less shitty to ambush someone in their home when they were in their literal, man-eating monster form. So she aimed her crossbow from her bush and shot one of her bolts towards the other, wanting to get his calf so she’d immobilize him.

—

It was tummy time, now that the weather had swung in the direction he preferred—hot and humid, thanks to all the rainstorms lately. He was laying on his back on the dock attached to his property, tail flopped over the side and draped in the cool lakewater. His posture was similar to that of a dog’s, legs and arms half-folded and hovering in the air above him, the claws of his hands and feet flexing slowly like a cat making biscuits as he enjoyed the heat of the sun on his slightly softer underside.

Then there was a weird noise, one he wasn’t familiar with. His head jerked to one side, but before he could make sense of anything, there was pain ripping through his leg. The lamia roared angrily, flipping himself quickly over and into the water. The splash was sizable, and Wyatt used the dock as cover as he tried to figure out where the fuck that had come from. His yellow eyes scanned the bushes lining the property, but he didn’t see anything. Relying on his heat vision instead, he quickly located the intruder. Rage boiled just beneath the surface but the lamia stayed where he was, waiting for them to move first and show themselves. They wouldn’t be able to outrun him once he started the chase.

—

Well, that was unfortunate. Daiyu watched as the alligatorian creature dropped into the water with a large splash. He fell out of her line of sight as ripples spread and though sure, she had hunted in water before, she wasn’t exactly thrilled about shooting her precious bolts into the water where they’d all sink. Never mind that aiming was made considerably harder when water played tricks on her eyes.

For a moment it seemed they were staring at each other, yellow eyes aimed at the bush she was in and she peering back through the branches. She was reminded of the crocodile in Peter Pan and wondered if that made her captain Hook — she wouldn’t mind a pirate ship of her own, in all truth. Even if it made her the villain. (Arguably the crocodile was a villain also, though.)

But she had no ship and so she inched forward after placing another bolt onto her bow. She moved to her full (not very impressive) height and took aim, head popping out of the branches as she shot her bolt, this time aiming for the space right between the two unnatural yellow eyes.

—

Holding still, Wyatt looked for all the world like a log in the lake. If you discounted the eyes, of course, which his attacker had not. He watched as they popped up out of the brush, and felt his throat constrict. Daiyu? Aw, man… He’d liked her, and she was a fuckin’ ranger? Of course she was. His life was nothing if not a cosmic goddamn joke. She stood, took aim, and fired again. The gator closed his eyes and dipped his head underwater, which meant the bolt missed his head, but instead buried itself painfully in his back.

He thrashed, knocking against the legs of the dock as the water around him turned red. Fuck, fuck. Whatever that thing had been tipped with was enough to get through his tough natural armor, which he now realized he might rely too heavily on. He’d never been hunted by a ranger that ever had the upper hand before. With a loud hiss, the shifter scrambled toward the lake’s edge and out of the water on two legs, his nine foot stature somewhat diminished as he hunched over in pain.

“Goddamn, woman! You eat lunch with a guy n’ repay him like this?!” he hollered, dropping onto all fours and letting out another agonized groan that sounded a bit like a roar. “The fuck did I do to you?!”

—

Her family was naturally predisposed to hunt lamia. It made sense, in a way. Cold blooded creatures going after cold blooded creatures. Never mind the way Daiyu had been convinced as a child that her family was cursed, too, just as those of lamia's were … and admittedly that belief had never truly faded. Her family's curse made it so that this was her method of income, which was much better than being cursed to be a big alligator who had to eat humans whole. Not even she, with her insatiable appetite, was curious about how humans tasted.

This was the order of things: the bolt whizzing towards him, family traditions or curses making Wyatt and her opposing chess pieces. It ripped through its leathery hide and she felt the rush of satisfaction that came with hitting a target, even if she had failed to hit him properly. A lethal shot between the eyes would make all this easier and faster, but alas.

So in stead the dinosaur-esque creature yelled in that very human voice, referencing the meal they'd shared at the strange sandwich club. “It's more about what you did to others, though I guess they're too dead and digested to talk to you about it now,” she retorted, loading another bolt on her crossbow, “People really want you dead for that.” This was a little bit like Jurassic Park, she figured. “Willing to pay a little penny for it. You should be more picky with your dinners, I guess.”

—

What in the hell was she talking about? Sure, yeah, he ate people — but this seemed specific. Targeted. Someone had put a bounty on his head? He would have felt proud if not for the bolt buried in his back.

… okay, no, he still managed to feel the pride as it acted as a slight balm against the pain.

Think, Barlow. Who did you eat that would have people bold enough — and in the know enough — to sic a hunter on you? Wyatt held out a clawed hand. “Hang on, hang on! Just… who's payin’ the reward, ah? I can pay you more to leave me be and get rid of that postin’.” That was… only kind of true. Depended on how much it was, really. He might have to do some back-to-back fights in order to pay it off all at once, but that was better than dying, right? Right. “I eat bad people, yanno.” Another half-truth. “I…” He was stalling, trying to remember past meals. The only one he could think of that might have the cajones for it and would know that he was the one that'd eaten someone they knew was… fuck. That idiot he let get away. The ones attacking Finn. Of course this was the penance the universe saw fit for helping fuckin’ Finn out.

—

Though Daiyu knew it was easier to not argue with her hunting targets, she was very bad at not doing it. It was hard, to be cursed with a mouth that ran miles around most others. Maybe all the action movies with bad dialogue were to be blamed.

But she was rendered speechless for a moment. Not because Wyatt was talking about only eating bad people – this was a classic thing shifters said when backed into a corner – but the thing he said about paying her the reward. What a strange offer. The bolt clicked in place and she straightened to her full height (which was usually unimpressive, but especially so compared to the lamia).

Bounty hunting was straightforward and she liked it because of it. You hunted something. Delivered proof of success. Got your bag. Didn't look back. There was no need for trying to find the bad ones or the deserving ones, there was just the money. Money talked. Just like Wyatt talked.

It was weak to admit that there was a part of her that was conflicted. It was not a permissible emotion, after all. But it was conflicting, when the person you were trying to murder was not only a target, but a really funny guy. And to Daiyu, being funny was a very important quality in others, as life needed embellishment and good distraction. She cocked her head slightly, looking like a confused dog. Confused, that was better than conflicted. “That's … confidential. But they're willing to blow a thousand green dollars on you,” she said, “Can you overbid 'em?”

—

A thousand? Fuck's sake. He'd already eaten through most of his savings, but he had about half of that ready to go. And he needed to pay her more than that, otherwise why should she bother? He was already playing a shittier hand, having to ask her to wait to collect. It needed to be worth it.

“I'll double it if you give me some time to get it together,” Wyatt groaned, sinking to the ground, the throbbing pain from the foreign object lodged so close to his spine becoming too much to bear. “I'm good for it. Work in a fighting ring. Can take on more dangerous opponents, earn more money. Just need… some time.” He was quiet for a moment, the only sound his labored breathing. As much as he hated to ask for help… “I'll throw in an extra five hundred if you pull this thing out for me,” he offered, unsure if he'd have the strength to make it to Masami with this bolt still stuck where it was.

—

If she were a better hunter or Volkov she'd not hesitate a moment longer and pull the trigger, making use of the immobilized state of the lamia and ending its life. But Daiyu wasn't a very good Volkov and no one could agree what made a good hunter anyway, so she disregarded it. At the end of the day, she was a bounty hunter. She'd just found a better bounty.

And Wyatt said something mildly alarming. Fighting ring. She remembered the Grit Pit with great clarity, as well as the way she'd kicked up a mild storm there before storming out herself. If she were a good Volkov, she'd see the potential in this large beast, but she wasn't. She just felt distaste. Remembered twitchy Felix and her own complicated feelings. “I can do two thousand,” she said, lowering her crossbow. It seemed Wyatt was set on making weird requests. Asking your assaillant to help with the injury she gave you was … well, strange. Did he have no pride? Was he so destitute? Pathetic was a fitting word, if she was speaking in the language of her family. Another option was that he was just trying to lure her closer so he could sink those teeth in her flesh. If that was the case, Daiyu refused to be scared of a wounded dinosaur. “Alright man, deal.” She disarmed her crossbow and slipped the strap back over her body. As she trudged over, circling around the water and towards the creature. Once she arrived, a knife was in her hand — because she wasn't stupid enough to get killed by her own (former) target. The fingers not occupied by a weapon wrapped themselves around the bolt, “One, two —” She pulled it out before saying three. Like ripping off a band aid when the other least expected it, “Three. There ya go!”

The bolt was tossed into the water, no glance spared at the wound. Daiyu was quick to back off, moving into the cover of the green. “I'll give you four weeks.” Seemed fair enough. “And I know where you live and work now, so don't get smart.”

—

He hadn't considered the fact that she might not want to get close to him, concerned mostly about the fact that he couldn't reach the weapon in his back, and the way it was making his legs start to feel numb. All the same, he was still as she approached, noticing the knife in her hand and figuring it was fair. His mouth was full of them.

Letting out a loud, long hiss of relief as she ripped the bolt out of his flesh, the lamia shuddered and felt the tingling in his limbs and figured it was a good thing. “Much obliged,” he grumbled, not making any attempts to move just yet. Blood seeped from the wound, trickling in small rivers between his scales down his back and sides.

“Four weeks. Got it. You'll have your money. Come here to collect.” He watched her retreat, and it wasn’t until she was out of range completely that he finally lifted himself up off the ground and started to drag himself up the deck stairs. He needed to shift and get dressed, and get his ass to the doc, preferably before bleeding out.

#threads.#wyatt.#bounty hunted.

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clairedelune-13 · 2 years ago

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I finally found a hair mod that matches the book description!

#cirilla fiona elen riannon #the witcher 3 wild hunt #jo wyatt

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eyes-of-nine · 1 year ago

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whoever invented this too shall pass is a fucking liar, this shit just keeps going

#turns out house hunting is only fun when you don't actually have to get one ywy #oh the horrors #wyatt rambles

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erstwhile-punk-guerito · 7 months ago

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#Pitfall #Dick Powell #Lizabeth Scott #Jane Wyatt #Raymond Burr #Byron Barr #John Litel #Ann Doran #Jimmy Hunt #Selmer Jackson #André de Toth #1948

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larkingame · 1 year ago

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play the demo | patreon | larkin is rated 18+

someone is after you.

for over a decade and a half now, you’ve traveled up, down and across the country--running schemes and hunting fiends with your mentor, con-man-by-day, vampire-hunter-by-night, Wyatt Abrams--the prolific vampire slayer and the living descendant of Gregory Abrams, founder and prophet of the Abrams Family, the nomadic vampire-hunting cult that raised you--and was wiped out years ago.

carrying the abrams name means also means carrying on it's enemies--but that isn't to say you haven't forged a couple of your own along the way. now, it seems someone is trying to make good on old threats and promises. they've placed a bounty on your head.

so you and wyatt do what you do best: you run away. to some little town, out nevada ways, where the title of town preacher is unexpectedly thrust upon you--bringing back years of trauma you thought long tucked away.

as if that wasn't enough, on your first day in town the local mine up and explodes--leaving the reclusive family that runs the town--and owns the mine--to suspect you as the main culprit.

now you're left with the responsibility of investigating the disaster to clear your name, looking into the mysterious cult just south of town, the gang of outlaws who've been wrapped up deep in a feud with larkin's patriarchal family--a group of people which you suspect to be hiding a secret most monstrous--all while dealing with the ghosts of your past, and the roots your family left behind.

larkin is a vampire western choose-your-own adventure game, with focuses on romance, religion, horror and complicated family dynamics.

play a fully customizable character [[decide upon their physical appearance, gender identity, sexuality, customize their pronouns]]

dictate a unique relationship with your mentor-turned-father-figure and his former appentice

romance any of twelve characters, five male, three female, one non-binary and three gender selectable characters.

define your characters skillset and scheming tactics, select their weapons and fighting style, elect their feelings on religion, vampires and the cult that raised them.

the doctor [male] cyrus sokolov - the quasi-mayor of larkin, cyrus sokolov also operates as the town's doctor and mortician. he's immeadiately suspicious of you, the new preacher and the reputation you comes with. even though he doesn't like it, he needs your help.

the princess [female] celina sokolova - despite the misconceptions among the townsfolk, the reclusive third sibling of the sokolov family, celina, is actually the family’s eldest. hardly leaving the sokolov mansion, it’s rumored around town that she’s been struck with some sort of sun-related illness, others seem to hold the opinion that miss sokolova simply sees herself as too good to linger amongst the common folk. whatever the case may truly be doesn’t much matter to the people of larkin, after all, it's much more fun to gossip. she's very suddenly developed a fascination with the preacher, a hunger almost. but will she eat you whole?

the mortician's assistant [male] dominic sokolov - the youngest scion of the sokolov family, dominic works as assistant mortician in larkin, though he’s much more interested in larkin’s living townsfolk then the dead ones he’s been charged with taking care of. with seemingly endless information on everyone and everything that goes on in larkin, mister sokolov might not be the worst friend to have.

the lawyer [male] jacob nash - larkin’s only practicing attorney and resident do-gooder. after passing the bar exam, nash headed out west in the hopes of making a real difference for the people there, only to spend most of his days settling petty disputes and notarizing documents. despite his disappointment, however, nash has managed to keep a level head and his fondness for the people of larkin, even though he’s not so sure the sokolovs have the townsfolk’s best interest in mind.

the bartender [female] rose holloway - larkin’s most recent transplant, that was, until the preacher showed up. former city-girl, rose has adapted to both life out west and on her own, the only way she knows how--by pushing through it. the owner and bartender of larkin’s only saloon, the emerald, rose is a popular figure around larkin whether she likes it or not, but whether that has more to do with her occupation or the fact she also happens to be larkin’s youngest widow is still a topic up for debate.

the lieutenant [male/female/non-binary] hollis - an enigmatic figure around larkin, hollis serves as a lieutenant for the mysterious rateliff fellowship. one of the cult’s few members to make the long trek from their encampment in the desert to town more than once. talked to by few, hated by most, hollis bears the reputation of the people they represent to the town of larkin--one, that isn’t particularly favorable.

the vampire hunter [male/female/non-binary] ace zhang - vampire-hunting-mercenary extraordinaire, the last the preacher knew of ace, they were the young hot-shot on san francisco’s hunting scene. once upon a time ace was a prominent figure in the preacher’s life, the first real acquaintance they managed to make on their own, someone outside of wyatt’s sphere. growing up a member of the guild, their life is one that’s mirrored the preacher’s. maybe that’s why the two seemed to be linked so closely during the preacher’s time in california, whether that was as friends, rivals or something more, their presence is one that remains prominent in the preacher's mind.

the outlaw [male] cassidy alan ward - cowboy, outlaw, bandit, cassidy goes by many names and titles, but the one he prides himself on most is leader. protector of his people, the ward gang hides out somewhere in the hills outside larkin, looming over the townsfolk as an ever-present threat, cassidy finds the sokolovs personally responsible for the death of his sister, caroline, and he is out for blood.

the gunslinger [female] ethel jackson - cassidy's right hand, ethel is a gunslinger through and through. fancying herself the robinhood type, she's got a personal hatred for the family that looms over larkin. with the fastest gun in all of nevada, maybe even all of the west--ethel could prove to be a valuable friend--or a deadly adversary.

the stranger [non-binary] reyes - the newest addition to ward's gang, not much is known about them or their past--what everyone is well aware of, however, is the fact that nobody whose ever decided to cross reyes has ever come out of it alive.

the vampire [male/female/non-binary] montero moreau - you've hunted down their coven, debilitating any hopes for growth they had in terms of advancing in the cut-throat world of Vampires. you've made montero look like a fool, and they hate looking like a fool. They're determined to hunt you down and take revenge.

the first man [male] - adam - he believes himself to be the mirrored man mentioned in the abrams family book of genesis--the first vampire, plagued to walk the earth--and he has long been in search of his eve.

play the demo | patreon | itch.io

#larkin if #interactive fiction #games #vampires #cowboys #if #text based game #choose your own adventure #vampire romance #cowboy romance #text adventure #twine #twine game #twine interactive fiction

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billy-macher-stu-loomis · 2 months ago

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like a deer — yandere! poly! stuilly x male! prescott! reader

length: 1.1k

requested by 🌀!!

the plot of this one one got away from me a little bit whoops

major tws: murder (duh), graphic depictions of violence, major character death (it’s not you or our pretty boys though <3), knifeplay? idk they get real fucking horny with it, dubcon!! serious dubcon with the knife stuff, billy also gets kinda slutty with blood too srry, a kind of graphic description of a roadkill deer, some of that nice 90s internalized homophobia, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, manipulation/coercion? sort of?, these little homosexual freaks are unhinged (you included)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The first to go was Casey Becker.

Your next door neighbor.

They’d found her hanging from a tree in her front yard, gutted like a deer.

You, of course, had been the first person questioned by the police. Shaken and disturbed, you’d quickly found solace in your best friends, Billy and Stu.

~~~

The glass of Stu’s bedroom window was cold against your knuckles as you rapped on it. You only had to wait a moment in the freezing cold before the window slid open, a sleepy Billy rubbing his eyes as he let you inside.

“You forgot to put the spare key back under the doormat, you asshole,” you grumble to Stu as you clamber into his massive rich-boy bed. The taller boy giggles, wrapping his arms around you.

The two of them had always been touchy with you. Always with a hand on your hip or your lower back, an arm slung over your shoulders, interlaced fingers…

(You had your own suspicions that Billy and Stu might be…together, but you’d never say it aloud.)

It was totally normal for guys to share a bed at a sleepover, right? Girls do it all the time.

Totally normal.

~~~

Next to go was your girlfriend, Heather.

You didn’t feel sad. You felt…numb. You felt nothing.

I’m just so sad that I can’t even feel anything, you reasoned with yourself, trying not to think too much about Billy’s hand wandering a little closer to your ass than usual as he wrapped you up in a sympathetic hug. That’s it. Of course. Boys always feel relieved when their girlfriends die. That’s totally normal. Everything’s fine.

~~~

One by one, your friend group was shrinking. People were being killed off left and right. You’d gotten the news about Janis right you and Billy left the movie theater. Sadie had been found in the pool by her big brother while you were busy beating Stu ass at Chutes and Ladders. When Wyatt turned up dead, you’d been taking a joyride with Billy in his dad’s Viper. When Teddy died, you’d been getting ice cream with Stu.

All four were found gutted.

Like deer.

Despite how much they’d been hanging out with you as of late, you’d declined Billy and Stu’s invitation to come hunting with them that weekend.

~~~

“You wanna come over after school? My dad’s outta town, so we can watch whatever the hell we want.”

“Can’t. I’ve got, uh, homework,” you lie, refusing to meet Billy’s eyes as you slammed your locker shut and hurried away.

~~~

“You’ve been avoiding us all week,” Billy accuses, stepping in front of the door to block your exit as you try to leave the cafeteria

“Did we do something wrong?” Stu asks anxiously, fluttering around by Billy’s side.

“No! No. Of course not.”

“Then why are you avoiding us?”

You bite your lip, nervous to tell them the truth.

“I’m afraid you two will be next.”

~~~

Absently, you wonder how Stu’s going to get all of that blood out of his nice beige sweater. You’d bought him that sweater last year for Christmas.

Stu kneels in front of you, resting his bloody hands on your hips as he looks up at you imploringly. “Please forgive us?”

How do you get blood out of clothes? Cold water? Or— is it warm water? Sidney would know. You ought to ask her.

“Baby?” Stu begs, his fingers curling in your shirt as he grips you tightly.

Oh. Right. You can’t ask Sidney.

She’s dead.

Billy is skillfully using his body to block your view of the carnage on the floor, doing his best to keep you from freaking out.

His hands are on you, running through your hair, lightly touching your cheek. He’s sticky, with your sister’s blood, your father’s blood, Stu’s blood, his own blood, and fucking corn syrup.

“Sweetheart?” Stu questions, hooking a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugging on it lightly. “See? We love you.”

You’re horrified. They murdered thirteen people to show their love.

(You would’ve been fine with just a box of chocolates and some flowers, but y’know. Billy refuses to half-ass things.)

“Do you need us to prove it to you?”

Stu’s got a crazed look in his eye that makes you shrink back. But Billy’s grip on you is tight enough that you can barely move at all, forced to watch as Stu yanks off his ruined sweater, unabashedly moaning like a slut when the fabric catches on his fresh stab wounds, ripping back open the flesh that was so desperately trying to knit itself back together.

Billy hands Stu his buck knife, watching with rapt attention as the man holds it over his chest. Stu doesn’t even flinch, watching in a trance as the tip of the blade sinks into his flesh, droplets of red already welling to the surface. He drags the blade along his skin, carving your initials into his chest, right above his heart.

When he’s finished, he hands the knife back to Billy, who reverently takes it, studying the fresh red sheen on the metal before pressing his tongue flat against the side of the blade and licking off Stu’s blood.

You look away, disgusted and somehow turned on at the same time.

(You can’t help but sneak a look when the two boys share a messy, blood- and spit-soaked kiss. Fuck.)

Billy yanks off his corn syrup-stained white shirt, tossing it carelessly on the floor, where it hits your dead father in the face. He steadies the knife, holding it over his chest and doing the same thing as Stu just did.

You choke out a sob, unable to rectify this image of your boys as psychotic murderers with the image of them just last night, cuddling up with you in bed and leeching off of your warmth and rambling about horror movies.

“Sweetheart?” Billy murmurs, cupping your face in his hand. “Look. Look, see? We love you. We love you.”

They love you. They love you.

You keep mentally repeating that mantra to yourself. Even as you are forced to scrunch your eyes through the pain of the knife carving two sets of initials into your chest. Even as you look at the bodies of your sister and father one last time. Even as Billy scoops you up to carry you to Stu’s van in a way that’s supposed to be playful but just comes across as a final doomed death sentence, the clang! of a prison door slamming shut. You repeat your mantra even as you pass by the bodies of Randy and Dewey; even the mutilated body of that obnoxious bitch from Top Story makes you have to look away.

They love you. They love you.

Stu drives, on the lamb. Billy lays in the back with you, curled up with you on the bed in Stu’s stupid “shaggin’ wagon”.

Your eyes are glued to the smiley-face shaped air freshener dangling from Stu’s rear view mirror. You can’t look at Billy right now.

They love you. They love you.

You can almost trick yourself into believing it, at least for a little while.

But the sight of the dead deer on the side of the road, visible through the front windshield, its chest smashed and broken like a piñata, sends you spiraling.

When you look back at the stupid air freshener hanging from the mirror, its bright yellow face smiling at you only feels mocking and cruel. All you can see is Casey’s body hanging from that damned tree.

They love you. They love you.

#scream 1996 #stu macher #billy loomis #stuilly #stu macher x billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #billy loomis x reader x stu matcher #stuilly x reader #poly ghostface x reader #x male reader #🌀 anon

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