#western black horse fly

[onenicebugperday]

@gallifreyanconsultingphilosopher Do you know what the guys in 1&2 (clearest photos I got before it flew away), 3-5, and 8-10 are? Southern Alberta. I think 6 is a puncate leaf beetle and 7 is a pale green weevil.

Sure! Photos 1 and 2 are a robber fly. 3-5 are a male western black horse fly. And the last fella looks like one of the wasps in Crabronidae - maybe a square-headed wasp in the genus Tachysphex.

[blackseafoam]

Marked Part II

Part 1

A Bad Batch x Red Dead Redemption crossover AU (with illustrations :)

Word count: 1695

CW: Stuff you'd normally find in a western story. Swearing, smoking, gun touting, arrow wounds, horse jokes.

Two uneventful days went by for the Bad Batch Gang. They began to think the weird interaction in Valentine really was just that, nothing more.

“Why can’t I try a rifle?” Meggy kicked at a rock in her path.

“Because a rifle doesn’t work on small game.” Echo smirked, adjusting the shotgun in his elbow.. “There won’t be anything left of the critter. Plus, a bow is a great weapon. I’d have one too if I could.”

The youngest and oldest siblings picked their way quietly through the forest just north of camp. They’d managed to grab one squirrel all morning, but the forest was unusually quiet today. “Let’s head back, hopefully Crosshair had better luck.”

“No luck for you today, I’m afraid.” A strangers voice startled the pair as a towering figure stepped out from behind a tree. The blue-jacketed man from town. His revolver raised toward Echo.

Meggy froze, Echo raised his shotgun. “Stay away.”

“Don’t be a fool, we know that’s birdshot.” A scar-faced man appeared. Followed by three other armed men. “Just drop it.”

Echo let out a frustrated groan placed his shotgun on the dirt.

“Are you okay, kid?” one of the three goons asked, a young black man with a scarf.

“She’s exactly where she belongs.” Echo spat.

“Hey I wasn’t asking you!”

Meggy stood silently, still frozen.

“See? She’s terrified!” Another spoke up with a thick irish accent. “We outta blow your other arm off, kidnapper.”

“This is a misunderstanding, we saved-”

“Quiet!” The man in blue growled. “Walk back to camp, we’re gonna meet your friends. Sean, take the kid to the horses and wait for the signal.”

-

Arthur was somewhat relieved to see only two figures as he pushed his hostage into the kidnapper’s camp, but that only meant the remaining two were unaccounted for still. Theone with the red scarf was chopping firewood while the glasses-wearing one was grooming a horse on the farther end of camp.

“Hands up, drop the ax.” Arthur called from the edge of the clearing, gun still trained on the one-armed man’s back, using him as a shield. Lenny, John, and Javier fanned out on either side, weapons drawn.

“Weapons on the ground, or Lefty gets it. This is your only warning.” He put a hand on Echo’s shoulder and pulled him backward.

“Your knife too.” Lenny barked at Hunter.

With a nod from their leader the three gang members gathered the two new hostages.

-

Sean and Meggy watched the others disappear into the trees.

“Alright kid, let’s go. You’re safe now.” Sean beckoned the girl toward the horses where they were to wait for the signal. She did not follow. When the irishman turned around, her bow was trained on him.

“No, no. I’m here to save you kid. Meghan, right? We’re bringing you home!” He stammered.

“I am home.” She curled her lip, and let the arrow fly.

-

It had been ten whole minutes since Arthur had whistled for Sean to bring down the horses. “Where is that bastard?” Arthur said under his breath.

They had their hostages kneeling on the forest floor as Javier bound their hands. The trio eyed their captors with an intense vitriol but said nothing. It was abundantly obvious these were no run of the mill outlaws, these were battle-trained men. Arthur was not going to let his guard down.

Just then the sound of hoof steps came from behind. Sean led them from his steed, an arrow was embedded firmly in his thigh.

“Where’s the girl?!” Javier opened his arms in confusion.

“She got away!” Sean spat, grimacing and pressing on his thigh where the arrow shaft bounced with every stride of his mount.

“You gotta be kidding me, Sean. You had ONE job!” Arthur groaned.

“Goddamnit.” John cursed.

“She SHOT me!” Sean motioned to the arrow, as if no one had noticed it.

Arthur glanced at the hostages. Their intense, angry stares held a new smugness at the news that the girl had escaped. He drew a pained sigh. “Javier, Lenny, take these fellas to the sheriff in Valentine. Sean, John, ride with me we’re gonna find that girl.” He holstered his revolver and mounted up.

Sean nodded stiffly.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked in a low voice as he neared the horses.

“Not to worry, English, takes a lot more than one arrow to take out a Maguire.” He choked out.

“Leave it in, nothing we can do about it till we get back to camp.”

Sean’s positive demeanor wilted then, realizing he’d have to ride with an impaled thigh for another couple hours at the very least.

Javier and John mounted, guns still drawn, and walked Hunter, Echo, and Tech down the trail toward Valentine. The rest rode in the opposite direction.

-

Meggy ran like she had never run in her life. Her boots catching on branches almost took her out several times, but she didn’t let it slow her. Crosshair and Wrecker were somewhere out here, she had to warn them about what was going on.

“Meggy!” A raspy voice hissed out of nowhere.

Meggy stopped in her tracks. Confusion written on her face.

“Up here.”

Meggy looked up, Crosshair was perched high up in a Douglas Fir.

“Crosshair!” The girl said as loudly as she dared. “They took Echo!”

“I know, I saw the whole thing. Climb up here, they’re coming back.”

Meggy had never climbed a tree before, but she had to be brave. She clambered one branch at a time until she was a few levels below her brother, then decided it was enough.

“Where’s Wrecker?” She breathed hard from the exertion.

“I don’t know.”

As if on cue their brother appeared through the tree trunks below, striding back toward camp with an armful of game traps he’d retrieved.

“Psssst Wrecker!” Meggy hissed.

“He can’t hear you.” Crosshair threw a pine cone down toward his half-deaf brother’s head with pinpoint accuracy.

“OW!” Wrecker turned and looked up. “Hey! What are you two doing in a tree?!”

Meggy and Cross motioned him to be quiet and beckoned him up.

The three siblings balanced on their branches, the one Wrecker was on creaking concerningly. Holding their breath, they watched the bounty hunters searching for them in the forest below. Crosshair held his rifle ready to retaliate at the slightest glance in their direction, Meggy and Wrecker could do nothing but wait.

After several, slow, agonizing minutes, the men moved on.

“Who’s that?” Wrecker whispered.

“I don’t know but they have Echo!” Meggy tried to hold in a sob.

“We’ll get him back.” Wrecker growled. “Come on.” He started back down the tree.

“Stop. There are too many of them. We need a plan.” Crosshair hissed.

“Let’s go back to camp.” Wrecker suggested. “We’ll get Hunter and Tech and then get Echo.”

-

An hour of searching yielded no results, the bounty had fled. Arthur knew when the trail had run cold, and this one was ice.

“Don’t know how much longer I’m gonna last, English.” Sean gasped in pain for the twelfth time. It was time to give up. Even if they did find the bounty, Sean would be no help bringing them in, and he wasn’t confident with the marksman and the bruiser being the ones unaccounted for.

“John, get Sean home. I’ll meet the others in town.”

-

The cell in the Sheriff’s office reeked of must and the unwashed fabric of the thin mattress on the floor. Hunter, Tech, and Echo sat on the ground as far away from it as possible.

On their way in, Hunter had noticed Meggy’s bounty poster… her reward was more money than they ever would’ve imagined. Why all this fuss over one kid? Why couldn’t they just be left alone?

“The Van der Linde Gang.” Tech thoughtfully mumbled to himself.

“The Van der Linde Gang?” Echo scoffed. “What’s that?”

“I read about them in the paper, I have a hunch that’s who we’re dealing with.” Tech said softly, eyeing the deputy at the desk across the room.

“How do you know that?” Hunter whispered.

“The one calling the shots, I believe his name is Arthur Morgan, has a vicious reputation. He is one of Dutch Van der Linde’s right hand men.”

“Yeah he’s the one we ran in to in town.” Hunter said in a worried hush.

“QUIET IN THERE!” The Deputy scolded.

They fell silent for a few minutes.

“How long have we been here?” Echo whispered

Tech, the only one who wore a watch, checked it. “Four hours.”

Echo sighed.

“I SAID QUIET! Final warning.” The Deputy hit the table with his fist.

-

Wrecker, Crosshair, and Meggy ducked through the underbrush as quickly and quietly as possible. Stopping every so often to listen for their pursuers. When they arrived at camp they waited and watched for at least an hour, making sure the bounty hunters were not around.

“Is it safe yet?” Meggy dared a whisper.

“We need a plan, first.” Wrecker scratched his chin.

Crosshair’s uncanny stillness finally broke. “I’ll tack up Havoc. Wrecker and Meggy get Murray* on the wagon. We’ll go to town and carefully scope it out to see if we can figure out where they took them.”

(*Murray is Marauder’s nickname)

Meggy and Wrecker nodded and the troop finally stood from their hiding place. Meggy looked up at Crosshair, his brow was knotted with deep concern. She gently tugged on his sleeve. “We’re gonna find them, Crosshair, don’t worry.” She smiled.

The marksman nodded back but barely looked at her.

Soon enough they were on the road. Wrecker drove the wagon while crosshair took up the rear on his mount, and Meggy was relinquished to riding in an empty crate to stay out of sight. She jostled inside, now that the adrenaline had worn off the reality of the situation was beginning to set in. A few stray tears slid down her face. The universe had just given her a family and now it was trying to take it away. Maybe it really would’ve been better for everyone if she just stayed at that stupid school.

Taglist: @dragonrider9905 @omegafett99 @griffedeloup

Author’s note:

Hello beautiful readers! So many of you have given me such good ideas for this AU. This is a kind of “I’m making it up as I go” story with several solid story beats I’m working toward. That being said I’d love to hear more detail ideas for this crossover if you have them! And I will try to incorporate them in.

For example: someone suggested that Gonky be their disabled dog and I love that so much, I want to figure out how to ret con it in. Stuff like that.

Anyway thank you for reading and for all the enthusiasm!’ I read every single tag, reblog, and reply (multiple times).

[naeverse]

Hearts On Fire

A/N: I completely adored writing this—like OMG!!! I just wanted to thank my bestie, @amariiyagurl , before diving into the story since she was the one who gave me the wonderful idea. Once again, I really, really enjoyed writing it, so thank you, girlie!!🤎🧡 Art(s) by: mariammew2 & Pinkiemme

🐴staring: BountyHunterMiguel O’Hara x Fem!SassyVaquera

      🌵preview: 

“What do ya want from me? To see me lose control? To go against my damn duties?!” The hunter shouted, his face trembling in uncontrollable anger. “What ya find pleasure in that? Seeing me lose my shit?”  

“Why, yes indeed..."

🐮summary: Miguel O’Hara is a ruthless and cold bounty hunter of the Wild West, renowned for his sharp wit, perfect aim, and unprecedented tracking skills. He never cared about the outlaws he arrested, sometimes even killed. It was merely business in his eyes, nothing more.

It wasn’t until you revealed your beautiful face as an outlaw of the Wild West that the hunter found himself completely smitten by your gorgeous smile, ravishing body, and sharp tongue, which he both loved and hated.

But you were an outlaw, and he, a bounty hunter. 

You and he were like water and oil.

You didn’t mix…

Or so it seemed…

🐴tw/cw: Bed-Sharing, Big Dick Miguel, Bondage, Butt Groping,  Cock Bulge, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Doggystyle, Forbidden love, Late 1800s, Missionary, Multiple Orgasms, NFSW,  Olfactophilla, Praises, Rough Sex, Squirting, Temperature Play (If you squint), Western Themed, Wild-West Base, 19th-Century

🍺Pet names: Cariño (Darling), Querida (Dear), Miel (Honey), Vaquera (Cowgirl), Bebè (Baby), Princesa (Princess), 

     🤎Rating: 18+ explicit I SMUT I

 🌵 Word Count: 14.4k words 

(*All rights reserved. DO NOT repost/translate/copy any of my work.*)

"Mierda!"

The curse fell from the lips of the notorious bounty hunter, Miguel O’Hara, upon dodging yet another set of flying bullets being shot at him. He growled, straightening up on his saddle and giving the reins of his ebony horse a sharp snap, pressing the spurs of his boots into its side to urge his adored stallion faster.

He couldn’t let you get away again. 

Not this time...

Miguel O’Hara was a famous bounty hunter who was known throughout the Wild West for his reputation as a relentless tracker and unmatched sharpshooter. The mere mention of his name struck fear into the hearts of outlaws, knowing that if you had a hefty price and were on the bounty hunter’s list, you were as good as captured, or in some cases… 

Dead.

Although Miguel had an infamous reputation of being the end of many ruthless and cunning outlaws, there was one that always managed to slip through his fingers…

You.

Y/N, the vaquera with the excellent aim, sexy body, and witty tongue always seemed to continuously evade his capture. He couldn’t help but despise the woman just as much as he secretly admired her.

It was always that damn mouth of hers…

She could sweet-talk and charm almost anyone, even the infamous bounty hunter, which was the reason behind his countless missed arrests of the beautiful vaquera.

But not today.

Miguel was going to make sure of it.

"Vamos, Xian! Vamos!" Miguel shouted to his horse, his body leaning forward as his black stallion snorted in response, her hooves thudding faster against the rocky and dry terrain of the desert. Miguel's black durst coat blew behind him in the wind as his mahogany eyes were trained on your figure, riding upon your horse just a few miles ahead.

A wicked smirk spread across the hunter’s lips upon getting closer to you.

‘You aren’t getting away this time.’

Miguel thought, effortlessly, he hoisted his iconic steel six-shooter from its holster, aiming the long barrel directly at you, who was galloping at lightning speed to escape the notorious bounty hunter. With a click of his thumb upon the hammer to cock the gun, he didn’t hesitate to shoot, pulling the trigger.

Only for a second, the piercing sound of the bullet’s release reverberated through the desert, to be followed with a frustrated snarl from the hunter at the sight of you dodging it.

You let out a gasp, one hand flying up to clutch your brown wide-brimmed hat to keep it from flying away, just as you veered your horse to the left to avoid the passing bullet.

You glanced over your shoulder with a taunting smirk on your cherry lips, the sight only making Miguel’s blood boil. “Stop fuckin’ runnin'!” He bellowed, his gruff voice full of rage with a potent Western and Latino accent.

A soft laugh passed your lips at him. “Stop chasin’ me then!” You shouted back with an amused smile that almost took Miguel’s breath away; but in that brief moment of awe, he didn’t notice when the attractive vaquera pulled her gun out, firing at him once more.

His attempt at dodging the bullet was unsuccessful as a loud whine from his horse filled the desert.

“Xina!”

Miguel exclaimed in shock and worry, feeling his stallion stagger in her steps and begin to slow down. His mahogany eyes snapped up to see you getting further away from him, Xina’s whimpers of pain bringing his attention back to his wounded horse as he knew she wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.

Not in this state…

At that revelation, irritation filled Miguel's being. “Shit! I almost had her!” He hissed in frustration, watching the beautiful vaquera ride off into the distance. He clenched the reins of his horse tightly, trying to calm his anger.

“I’ll find you again, Cariño. 

I promise you…”

It was now evening, and you were sitting inside a saloon in a town you'd encountered, enjoying a nice glass of whiskey after your successful getaway from the infamous bounty hunter.

“Another glass, and keep ‘em comin’,” you exclaimed to the bartender with a grin as he poured you another glass of the alcoholic drink.

You smiled, bringing the whiskey to your lips when you, suddenly, felt something hard press into your side. You winced at the sensation of the solid object being jabbed harshly into your ribs before a warm and overpowering presence came over you.

"Holler or make any sudden moves, and I’ll gladly put a bullet in ya.”

You bit your lip, instantly recognizing the deep voice of the owner of the gun currently prodding into your inner organs. “Why, if it ain’t Miguel O’Hara. It’s nice to see ya again.” You chuckled in a breathy tone due to the piercing pain, watching the large bounty hunter take a seat on a wooden stool beside you at the bar. His grip on his gun seemed to tighten after your greeting.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips at the sight of the massive, stoic Latino.

Miguel O’Hara was a hunter you’ve never met before—so determined, stern, and versatile. He was honestly a jack of all trades, and one that had greatly piqued your interest upon encountering him for the first time six months ago.

Dressed like a shadow, he was adorned in his usual attire of a black durst coat, collared shirt, pants, and black sturdy boots. A wide-brimmed hat, with a skull, also sat upon his head of coffee-brown curls and tanned, rugged features.

Instantly upon meeting his cold mahogany orbs, you knew he’d be fun to play with—more than the other hunters. But you had to admit, the Latino didn’t get his great reputation senselessly.

He always gave you a run for your money—just like now…

You peered at the silent bounty hunter, trying to suppress the urge to wince from his gun still poking into your side. Your eyes roamed his face, taking in his hardened expression of a clenched jaw and permanent scowl that could curdle milk. His mahogany eyes, hooded by his black hat, traced your seated figure.

You could see the conflict occurring behind those enchanting orbs of his.

He was trying to make sense of you, but he simply couldn’t…

In all of Miguel’s years of being a bounty hunter, you always seemed to surprise him. With a loaded gun pressed into your side that could be fired any moment, you didn’t seem a bit fazed.

He’d seen outlaws that practically shit their pants at being held at gunpoint, yet you continued to drink your whiskey and kick your legs under the table like you were enjoying a nice lil’ ride on a wagon.

The bounty hunter was secretly impressed, but that damn taunting smirk of yours was working his last nerve.

“I can’t say the same 'bout you, chica,” he bluntly replied, leaning in close, as you instsntly felt his anger radiating from his body.

“You not only robbed that fuckin’ train, but you shot my damn horse.” He spat harshly, his voice full of malice. His gun dug deeper into your side, and his face was so close to yours that your breath was practically mixing. “And you hurt my Xina; I should shoot you dead right here. 

Right now.”

The bounty hunter threatened through gritted teeth. You rolled your eyes, hearing him say the same thing before. “Then why don't you?” You asked, taking a sip of your whiskey.

Miguel's thick eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your inquiry, his puzzlement only making him angrier. Once again, you were using that sharp tongue of yours to try and screw with his brain. “What shit are you yappin’ now?” He growled, irritation found in his voice.

A snicker left your cherry lips at the hunter’s perplexion. “It's not that hard a question, Miguel.” You giggled, peering over at him from under the hood of your brown hat.

“Why haven't you shot me dead yet, hm?”

You smirked, watching his tan, rugged features scrunch up further in rage, the sight pleasing you immensely.

Miguel's grip tightened upon the handle of his pistol, his teeth clenched so harshly that he believed they'll break any moment. “Perhaps I'd rather see how that pretty face of yers would hold up in prison.”

You laughed, taking note of his compliment. “Whatever you say…” You snickered, turning to take another sip of your whiskey.

"Whatever I fuckin’ say!?" Miguel snarled, unable to believe how nonchalantly you were taking him. Most outlaws’ attitudes would hastily change at the mere presence of the infamous bounty hunter, but here you were, still badmouthing him and acting like this was a joke.

It was only enraging Miguel further…

His scowl deepened as he sharply thrust the barrel of his six-shooter into your side, making you groan. “Here you are playin’ games and talkin’ shit like this is just a fun lil’ evening for ya.”

“Because it is.” You retorted, trying to ignore how your side would surely be bruised with how deep his gun was burrowed into your skin, despite being covered by your shirt.

Miguel figured you'd say that, but it still didn't make him less pissed.

“Then I'll love nothin’ more than to wipe that damn smirk from yer face, especially after what ya did to my precious Xina.” Miguel threatened, his mahogany eyes seeming to become a scarlet red at his seething anger.

You scoffed, shooting him a glare. “This fuckin’ horse again?!” You spat in irritation. “I believe your damn horse is real fine.” You replied, casting a glance at the entrance of the saloon to see his ebony horse standing behind the gated entrance. She looked relatively healthy, aside from a bandage upon the side of her massive black body. “Stop over exaggerating; it looks like just a darn graze to me.”

“And that fucking ‘graze’ is going to cost me a hefty sum of cash,” he sternly said, but despite how angry he was at you…

Damn, you were too sexy for your own good…

He couldn’t help letting his eyes drift down your body, taking in your vaquera attire of a simple pair of dark blue, slim-fitted pants and a matching button-up with brown fringe along your outfit. A set of brown boots and a wide-brim hat sat upon your head. He also took notice of how the outfit seemed to accentuate every piece of you.

Your attire was not only breathtaking, but it broke all the regulations assigned by men when it came to the makeup of a woman. Unlike the proper lady, pants adorned your gorgeous legs instead of the usual housewife skirt.

However, despite how rebellious your entire outfit was, it made you look hotter than a Texas summer; your stunning body was a quality the bounty hunter couldn’t get enough of, and it never failed to stir a wave of conflicting emotions through him.

Miguel cleared his throat, shaking off his adoration and lust for you to replace it with the annoying and rageful traits you shared instead. He leaned in close, his western and Latino-accented voice dropping to a low whisper.

"You must be aware of the hefty bounty on yer head, don’t ya, princesa?” He inquired in a hushed tone, not wanting anyone to overhear.

Miguel's breath fanned against your cheek due to his closeness, the sensation causing tingles to run down your backside. “Indeed, I do.” You simply stated. “A thousand…Correct?”

Miguel laughed darkly at your reply, shaking his head. “After your little shenanigans in that boom town last month, your price has been raised, sweetheart.” He uttered, your sweet natural scent along with the sweat and dirt on your skin filling his senses, igniting his concealed desire.

“Five thousand...”

The hunter stated, causing your heart to drop. However, your face held its usual unbothered expression upon hearing the new price. You looked away from him, snatching up your glass of whiskey in frustration. Miguel smirked, watching you gulp down the rest of your glass in hopes of calming your nerves.

“Five thousand is on your head, dead or alive, querida.” He said, finally taking notice of your adamant attempt to avoid his eyes, the sight angering him.

Without warning, he took your chin in his large, gloved hand, snapping your head to meet his stern and rageful ones. Your eyebrows furrowed in a mix of anger and surprise upon his sudden action.

“Be thankful I haven't filled ya with lead, chica, with yer attitude that option is seemin’ more and more temptin’.” He growled, his eyes roaming the beautiful face that has caused so many problems in the West. Your beauty only fueling his fury.

“You've been a damn thorn in my side since your first robbery down in the Southwest.” He rasped, his gloved fingers tightening around your jaw as with his every word, his barrel pressed deeper into your side, causing your eyebrows to screw together in pain.

You groaned softly, glaring daggers at him, and noticed some of the customers of the saloon starting to look over at the two of you.

“I'll be darn, that's Miguel O'Hara, ain't it. Look, Willy, ain't it?”

“And here I thought you were pullin’ my leg, Hank. That is him—but wait… and that's that cowgirl too, right?”

“Shoot dang, it is!”

The chatter of two loud older male customers filled your ears. Their recognition of not just Miguel but also you really pissed you off.

‘I didn't come here to cause a damn scene and draw attention to myself. Got enough shit to deal with as it is.’

You thought angrily, deciding it was time to make your exit. With an endearing grin, you gazed up at the bounty hunter, placing a hand onto his forearm that grasped your jaw and giving it a gentle caress with your fingertips. “Miguel, dear, we've been at each other's throats for months now…ain't we, babes?” You stated with a pout, continuing to brush the pad of your fingers along his arm with your eyes trained on him.

The bounty hunter completely stiffened at your touch, his mahogany eyes glancing down to your hand before snapping back to you.

He knew you were trying to seduce him with your alluring eyes, hypnotizing touch, and sultry voice, but damn was it hard to resist you. His desire was already growing, and your enticement was only feeding the flames.

“We have…” He practically growled through gritted teeth, the only thing keeping him stable was his grip on his steel six-shooter that was still piercing into your ribs, reminding him of his duties and reputation along with the importance of him detaining you…

Or killing you…

Miguel's eyes, practically red, glared down at you; seeing the bounty hunter angry always seemed to rile you up even more. You bit your lip, running your fingers up to his bare wrist, the only bit of skin that wasn't concealed by his sleeve or leather gloves.

You traced your fingertips along the valley of bulging veins that resided there, keeping your eyes on him. “Indeed, hunter…so perhaps, we can become allies instead of enemies, eh?” You suggested while caressing his wrist.

Miguel's jaw clenched, unable to ignore the wave of heat that was spreading through his being at your touch, and he only became more enraged at his body's adorning responses.

It was always like this with you…

He finally gets you cornered with nowhere else to go, believing he has won before you allure him enough to give him the slip.

Miguel had promised himself that today would be different, that today would be the day he would finally catch you; but with the way you were looking up at him from under your beautiful eyelashes, stroking his wrist and speaking to him so seductively…

He was close to taking you right there at the bar.

“I don't align myself with people, let alone outlaws, miel.” He said, trying to stay focused on his mission and not the growing excitement in his pants.

At his rejection, your pout deepened.

“And here I thought the last time we met up like this was somethin’ special…”

You slyly trailed off with a devious grin, watching, for a moment, as the bounty hunter’s thick eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and shock.

‘She really went there.’ Miguel thought, smirking at the recollection of his previous heated encounter with the beautiful vaquera and how very pleasing it was.

He removed his revolver from your side, tucking it back into his holster but not removing his large hand that encased your jaw. “You think bringin’ that up is going to save your sexy ass?” He inquired with a chuckle, his words bringing a smile to your lips. “No…not with you.” You giggled, batting your lashes up at him. “You are too smart for that.”

Miguel’s eyes narrowed in frustration. He hated how slick that mouth of yours was—it was like an eel dipped in oil, able to outwit and outsmart anyone with just a smile and a little teasing.

And goodness, did you love to tease…

You grinned, looking up at Miguel. “Mmm, but just think of how good it was, Miggy.” You uttered, moving your hands to run along the front of his duster coat, gripping the flaps and pulling him closer to you.

Miguel growled softly, his pants seeming to become painfully tighter the more you spoke and talked to him.

With a glance down, it wasn't hard to miss how aroused the hunter was. The enormity under the black fabric of his trousers demanding attention and yours, in particular. You smirked, finally having him under your control.

“You remember, don't ya?” You whispered, leaning in closely to the hunter's face, his stern expression faltering at your nearness. 

Miguel tried hard to resist you, but it was like he was under your spell, feeling your lips ghost along his jaw, up to his ear.

“How good ya felt in my throat and how well I took ya?”

You muttered seductively into his ear while removing a hand from his coat to trail down his chest. Your fingers tracing his bulging pecs and abs as you descended further. 

“Just imagine how good yer feel elsewhere? Perhaps…”

Your fingers found what you desired, looping through his front belt loop of his pants, and tugging him towards you with a seductive grin. A gasp escaped his lips, his black-gloved hand landing on your arm, ceasing your movements as his mahogany, slightly dazed, and lustful eyes gazed down at you. Your hands upon his pants, temptingly close to where he wanted you the most, drove him to the edge.

You instantly became surprised, the rare sight of such an expression upon your gorgeous face enough to cause him to stir underneath his briefs; however, he was once again conflicted—not knowing if he should listen to his head or his desires when it came to you.

You were just too risky to let go, and too sexy to lock up…

And there was a wretched part of him that didn't want to see the sexy vaquera in bars, regardless of how much of a pain in the ass you were.

So, what should be done with you...?

You gazed up at Miguel, taking notice of how his stoic expression had returned—that attractive smirk of his gone and replaced with his scowl like before. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

Was he not buying it?  

Was he about to arrest you? 

Shit, you were nervous as hell.

“Miguel? Babes-”

“Stand up.”

Miguel abruptly said, removing his hand from your jaw and pulling away. You laughed nervously, reaching out for his gloved hand.   “O-Oh, Miggy, who knew you were quite the funny one-”  Your dismissive words were cut off by the hunter suddenly swatting your hand from him and hastily grabbing your arms, pulling you onto your feet. A gasp passed your lips at his rough actions.

“What the hell?!” You shouted as effortlessly, Miguel tossed your body over his broad shoulder as if you were featherlight. His burly arm wrapped around the back of your thighs to hold you firmly against his massive body.

You scoffed in disbelief, laying upon what felt like a boulder for a shoulder.  “What the fuck is wrong with ya! I-If you don't put me down, ya sidewindin’ two-faced piece of shit!” You hollered whilst punching his backside in hopes of him releasing you, but to the hunter, you were like a dust devil—all wind and no impact.

Miguel turned, taking notice of the obvious attention the two of you were bringing—many of the customers now staring. The hunter tipped his hat to the fellow individuals of the saloon in a gesture of apology. “Pardon the ruckus, folks, this just business.” Miguel said in his usual, gruff voice, the vibrations of his tone rumbling throughout his massive body.

With a smirk, the bounty hunter carried you out of the saloon, your loud and repetitive kicks and curses following the two of you.

Miguel stepped outside, taking in the earthy and sagebrush scent of the new town he'd tracked you down to, named Roca Roja. It was a town that he could count on his fingers how many times he'd visited, but currently, he'd never seen so many bodies decorating the streets, especially as the sun was now setting on the horizon.

However, he couldn't exactly enjoy the nice, dry breeze of night with your damn yelling in his ear.

“I don't know what the hell is goin’ on in that thick skull of yer's, but yer've done lost yer darn mind!” You yelled from atop Miguel's shoulder as his black boots crunched under the rocky terrain of Roca Roja.

He continued to ignore your insults and shouts, clicking his tongue to signal his horse that fell into step beside him.

The hunter's Xina, an Appaloosa with a beautiful white spotted pattern down her ebony backside and around her snout, walked next to the both of you. Her loud snorts and clomps of her hooves filled the night and drawing your attention, but what really caught your eye was the nicely wrapped bandage that covered her torso.

You averted your eyes from the horse, feeling slightly guilty, but your demands and protests never ceased while the hunter continued to bring you to this unknown location. “Where are ya even takin’ me!?” You exclaimed, continuing another barrage of heavy punches to his muscular backside to no avail. His boulder of a shoulder digging into your already bruised side, only further angering you.

Your punches and kicks were completely useless to the huge male. Once you became tired, you slumped upon his shoulder, wincing slightly at how it continued to jab into your bruised ribs. You scowled, glaring over at the hunter. “What the hell is the matter with ya? Kidnappin’ a gal like this is a crime too if ya didn't know!” You shouted in annoyance.

Miguel heaved an irritated sigh, not understanding how a sexy thing like you can have such a nasty attitude. “If ya stop ya bitchin' I just might answer yer questions!” He shouted back at you.

A growl passed your cherry lips, finally quieting down to allow the hunter to speak. “Now…what's going through that pretty noggin’ of yer's is correct.

I'm takin’ ya in.”

Your eyes widened at his words, hastily, returning back to trying to escape.

You'll be damned if you go to jail so easily like this…

Swift hands flew to your holsters on your hips to find them empty, your revolvers missing from their places. The dark laughter from the hunter following your discovery only made your heart drop.

“Looking for yer guns, Cariño?” He taunted, giving your ass a playful smack, making you jolt. The sensation left you in a mix of anger and arousal at his spank. “Yer been a bad gal, so no guns for a beaut like you.”

You snarled, glaring at him. “So what!? After everythin’ we've been through, yer just gonna throw me to the wolves? You know what they'll do to me in there!” You exclaimed, trying to hide the worry in your tone at possibly being a part of such an unsanitary place with harsh conditions that could cause any sane person to lose their sanity.

Miguel's arm tightened around your thighs, his heart shamefully tugging. “Don't tell me yer scared, vaquera,” he teased, continuing to walk through town with you over his shoulder. “Shut it, hunter,” you scowled, delivering another punch to his backside in rage that only left him laughing. “Why, if ya do the crime, ya do the time. You know the law,” he replied.

You heaved a sigh, not believing after all your fun you would be sent to a place so hideous and dehumanizing— some jails didn't even separate by genders. 

You'll surely lose your mind in there…

“Yer not…seriously goin’ to take me back to Nueva Yorkano in one night, ain't ya?” you inquired, hoping it was a ‘nay.’

Miguel grunted, acknowledging that his horse, Xina, wouldn't be able to make a trip to the town, Nueva Yorkano, where you were most wanted in, without breaks, especially at night. There were many obstacles a traveler could encounter—coyotes, ruthless vaqueros, the harsh elements, and the extreme drop in temperature were all your enemies on a night journey through the desert.

The hunter cast a glance over at his horse whose steps were already starting to slow down. His wounded stallion hurt him more than anything due to him raising her from just a young foal; seeing her like this tore him up inside.

“Nay, we'll be gettin’ a room,” Miguel stated, clicking his tongue and gesturing with his head for his horse to follow him to the right, changing his destination to the nearest inn.

A grin spread across your cherry lips at your delayed arrest.

‘Perhaps, I can escape before we-’

“Fuck! What the hell!?!” You exclaimed at the sharp spank Miguel delivered to your rear, the smack pulling you from your thoughts and leaving an intense sting. “Don't get any funny ideas, chica, I'm still pissed at you about Xina,” he growled. “So try anythin’, I won't hesitate to rough you up, got it!?”

You rubbed your sizzling rear-end, muttering under your breath. “Rough me up…” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “You won't dare put ya hands on me,” you said from atop his shoulder as Miguel heard every word, bringing a smirk to his lips.

“Why…there are other ways I can ‘rough’ you up, Muñeca.”

Miguel uttered suggestively; one could dare say the hunter was flirting with you. You chuckled, smiling over at the stoic male. “Well, puttin’ it like that, it sounds like somethin’ I wouldn't mind experiencin’ then.” You giggled.

Miguel grunted in irritation at your comment, trying to ignore how turned on he became at your response. His mahogany eyes located a small inn nearby, its sign holding in big letters:

‘Cobweb Comfort.’

“We'll rest there,” Miguel replied, walking over as you looked over in the direction he was taking you, a groan passing your lips.

“You must be pullin’ my leg, Miguel. Here! Of all places!?” you whined, taking in the rustic and aged inn with paint peeling from its walls from years of neglect and windows layered with desert dust.

The closer Miguel got to the place, you could make out the uneven porch, loud creaking rocking chairs that sat upon it, and the nearby stable that showed many signs of disrepair but held many horses inside.

Everything about the inn was distasteful in your eyes, wishing to reside elsewhere that actually gave some care to the appearance of their establishment unlike this one.

Despite your complaints, the hunter ignored you, signaling for his horse to wait by the door before going into the inn.

The door creaked open, and you observed how the tall hunter's hand clutched his black hat as he slightly lowered to pass under the short doorway upon entering.

The interior of the inn looked quite similar to its exterior, with peeling wallpaper, heavily scuffed floors, and faded landscape paintings upon the walls.

Miguel's eyes took in the lobby of the rustic inn, instantly making contact with a rather familiar man sitting behind a weathered wooden counter. The innkeeper seemed more invested in smoking and reading his book to even notice the both of your arrival.

You scoffed. “Trash-ass customer service too. Darn, didn't see that comin’.” You mumbled sarcastically with an eye-roll, earning an annoyed grunt from Miguel.

The hunter approached the desk, his boots thudding upon the wooden floorboards, causing it to creak with his every step. The wood and smoky scent only intensified the further he walked into the inn.

Miguel peered over the counter, staring intently at the male that looked to be his same age, who was still oblivious to him having customers. Strangely, the innkeeper seemed familiar to the hunter, but due to the few oil lamps that hang from hooks inside the lobby, he was unable to see him clearly.

Miguel cleared his throat, hastily getting the male's attention, his amber eyes glancing up in surprise. “Ah, pardon me, didn't see ya there.” He chuckled, closing his book and standing from his chair, although, upon making eye contact, both men recognized each other.

“Well, I'll be damned, Miguel O'Hara! My buddy!” The guy said, giving the stoic man a friendly pat on the shoulder that the hunter simply glanced at.

Peter B. Parker was a bubbly and too jolly innkeeper that Miguel had saved a few months ago from being shot dead by an outlaw he'd been tailing. On the spot, the auburn-haired man bought Miguel drinks and offered him a free spot anytime at his inn to repay him—but the hunter didn't think he'd ever actually encounter him again…

Miguel gave Peter a mere grunt for a greeting, the male snickering as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette. “Still not much of a talker, I see.” Peter joked.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise at Miguel actually having friends.

You never would have thought…

You peered over your shoulder at the innkeeper, making eyes with the rugged-featured male that had auburn short, slick back hair upon an ivory skin tone face of stubble with a cigarette hanging from his lips. A dark blue button-up, tan pants, and dark brown boots adorned his rather lean body, except for his plump stomach that was visible through his shirt. You glanced upon the name tag that clung to his top, reading Peter B. Parker.

“Well, I see yer still on the job.” The guy named Peter commented, looking at you as you flashed him a smile and a wink from Miguel's shoulder. The male wolf whistled at the sight. “And a looker too-”

“Peter!”

Miguel barked, his mahogany eyes flashing red. “Give me a damn room and stop wasting my time.”

You chuckled at Miguel's evident sign of jealousy while Peter only shook his head at the hunter's sudden anger. “Fine, fine, seems someone is ready to hit the hay.” Peter said, rummaging around on his desk for his desired items.

“But just wonderin’ if it's your own head that's gettin’ the rest or yer alluding to somethin’ else.” Peter smirked, glancing over at you and then Miguel playfully. “I must warn ya, them walls in this inn ain't that solid.” The innkeeper laughed as you could feel the fuming rage radiating from Miguel's body at the innkeeper's comment. It took everything to hold back from laughing at the rather hilarious interaction.

“Peter…” Miguel growled through gritted teeth, his voice full of warning. “Okay, pardon me, let me see here…” Peter said, snickering to himself while peering through another large hardback that looked similar to a registration book.

Miguel stared at Peter as he located a room for the two of you in his ledger, never in the hunter's entire life did he wish to leave a conversation.

After a while of looking in silence, a disappointed, shoot dang, was muttered by Peter. He shook his head, looking up at Miguel. “There's only one room left.” He said, looking over at you and then at the hunter.

“And it's a singles.”

“Mierda.” Miguel cursed under his breath, looking at you and then at Peter. He was certain that spending a night with you in an enclosed bedroom would lead to nothing but disaster.

One that would only lead in himself and you tangled up in the sheets and experiencing another moment of unashamed passion.

“Why the hell is there only one!?” Miguel inquired in irritation causing the innkeeper to chuckle, raising his hands in defense. “No need to yell at me. I'm just doin’ my job.” He said. “But a few days ago, gold was found along the bank, folks been comin’ from all ‘round to try and get some.” He explained, causing another curse to leave the hunter's lips.

You sighed, glancing over at Miguel. “Told ya, we shouldn't have come here.” You added as Peter looked up at you. “Actually, every inn is real full in Roca Roja, due to the gold strike and everythang.” Peter said, picking up a quill and dipping it into the bottle of ink. “But gotta love it, has my business boomin’ at the moment.” He chuckled, glancing up at the hunter and you.

“So…You stayin’?” He asked, his amber orbs mainly on Miguel, awaiting his response.

The hunter sighed, seeming like he'd hit a trail's end.

He knew Xina would need time to recover—her injury wasn't major compared to what it could have been, but his stallion being on her hooves would only worsen it.

Xina resting up would do her some good.

Taking Peter's word that the inns were all full, Miguel would hate to try his luck and spend the night roaming all of Roca Roja, pushing Xina and hearing more of your yapping, just to end up roomless.

At least here, he wouldn't have to pay…

“Fine.” Miguel growled, watching a beaming smile spread across the smoking innkeeper. “That's the spirit. Here ya be well takin’ care of.” Peter promised, jotting down the hunter's name under a room and handing him the key.

Miguel tucked the brass key into the pocket of his black durst coat. “And Peter, ‘nother request.” The hunter added, suddenly dropping a wad of cash upon the counter, the sight surprising both Peter and you. “I know ya have connections, so find Xina a good doctor and tend to her real nice.” Miguel ordered.

The brown-haired male nodded, tucking the cash into his pocket and walking around the counter. “Of course, I love nothing more than to help my buddy.” He chuckled, thanking Miguel and you for staying at his inn with a pat on the hunter's back and a tip of his hat in your direction before he left to fulfill Miguel's requests.

The hunter heaved a sigh, standing alone with you in the lobby, who was still slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He casted you a glance, already feeling a stir inside of him at the mere thought of seclusion with you, and he hated every bit of it…

He already had a feeling that disaster was impending—one he wouldn't be able to stop no matter how hard he tried…

“Yer jokin’, right?”

You asked from your curled position upon the singular bed in your shared room. It wasn't the fact that Miguel had insisted on sleeping in a mere lounge chair across the room that led to such an inquiry; it was the fact of how the hunter believed you'd get any sleep with your hands and legs tightly bound together by rope.

Your eyes were trained on his seated form upon the aged lounge chair of the room, his massive legs spread, and his body dressed only in his black wide-brimmed hat, black button-up top, pants, and boots. His durst coat hung on the back of the raw umber cushion while his mahogany eyes stared back at your restrained being.

He lit what felt like his fourth cigarette since the two of you entered, placing the tobacco between his lips and taking a deep inhale before releasing the smoke through his nose.

He remained silent at your question, simply keeping his eyes on you like a guard dog.

It was quite unnerving…

“Hey Miguel! You there, or are ya lost in the tumbleweeds!?” You shouted at him in annoyance while wiggling upon the bed like a fish out of water.

“What is it?” He said, finally acknowledging you with his words rather than his piercing gaze. You sighed, looking over at him through your long eyelashes and putting on your most pitiful expression. “Oh why…t-this rope is real tight, you see. I-I can't even feel my limbs.” You uttered, laying on your side with a pout. “Can't you maybe…loosen them a tad bit?” You genuinely asked because upon bounding you, Miguel had fastened the ropes so taut that it was practically etching an imprint into your skin and cutting off blood circulation.

“Nay…” Miguel simply stated, taking another puff from his cigarette. At his denial, you growled in frustration. “Why, at least stop your damn smokin'. You're makin’ it hard to breathe in this already dusty inn.” You complained, burying your face into the beige blankets in irritation.

But if only you knew how much Miguel was holding on by a thread.

Upon entering the shared bedroom, he instantly felt it…

The longing. 

The arousal.

He never gave a damn about things like that—too busy with his bounty job to care. But ever since you've shown your face and made an appearance as a new fugitive, he began to desire it…

You were always on his mind, even during the times you went into hiding, and he was tracking someone new.

He craved you,

needed you.

Now you were laying upon a bed, bound tightly like a pig being served to him on a platter, and it was taking every fiber of his being to stay rooted in his seat.

Miguel's eyes traced your body, taking in your fallen hat and unkempt hair upon the bed, hands bound behind your back along with your ankles secured tightly together. Your clothes hugged your figure even more than they did before, the sight only leaving Miguel clawing at the armrests of his seat.

He took another huge inhale, watching his cigarette slowly losing its life because of his need for solace when your voice filled the room again. “Hunter, can I ask ya a question?”

“I'd rather you not.” He hastily responded in his dead tone, knowing any signs of flirtation or seduction would have him out of his chair in a blink of an eye.

You rolled your eyes at his words. “Come on, now. I can't sleep; you ‘parrently not going to either, so… let's talk.” You chuckled, looking over at the bounty hunter from your restrained position.

“Since my days of freedom are numbered. Might as well…” You added, causing Miguel to sigh, your words secretly tugging at him. He took his dying cigarette into his gloved fingers, snuffing it out in a nearby tray. “Speak then, but say anythin’ improper, I won't hesitate to put ya to sleep myself.” He threatened, but you couldn't help but have your head go straight into the gutter.

“Put me to sleep, ya say…?” You smirked, biting your lip at the thought of having some other type of restless fun with the hunter. Miguel scowled at your suggestive tone, anger the only thing keeping his arousal at bay. “You know what I mean; now either ask yer question or shut yer mouth and sleep.”

You rolled your eyes, taking in the hunter's booted foot constantly bouncing against the wooden floorboards and the sight of him lighting yet another cigarette. “Are ya stressed or somethin’?” You asked, watching his chest greatly rise due to his massive inhale of the cigarette—his pecs and abdominal muscles becoming accentuated under his shirt.

“You can say that.” He replied, avoiding your eyes to look out the window behind you. “Well, then let's talk 'bout it. What's yer problem?” You inquired with a grin. “What's got ya so antsy that yer glued to that pack of cigarettes?”

Miguel glanced at you, mahogany eyes narrowing in thought of if he should speak about his ‘problem’ or not, soon deciding the latter. “None of your darn business.”

You snickered, expecting him to remain secretive. “Damn…must be real bad.” You assumed, glancing over at him and making eye contact, causing the hunter to hastily look away, a grunt of irritation passing in response.

Miguel was obviously avoiding your gaze, and you couldn't help but find the large male's attempts rather adorable. You grinned, turning your eyes up to the ceiling, allowing a pleasant silence to fill the room, except for the rhythmic bounce of Miguel's sturdy black boot upon the floorboards. You deeply inhaled, taking in a big whiff of the hunter's cigarette smoke before speaking.

“I believe I know what yer ‘business’ is, hunter...”

Miguel's heart dropped at your words, his blood running cold as every part of his body stilled. His tongue fiddled with the cigarette between his lips as he eyed your tied body, taking notice of your ability to maneuver onto your back, now gazing up at the ceiling.

He took in the sight of you, your waves of beautiful hair spread like a tapestry, creating a soft frame around your head. He clicked his tongue, taking another puff of his cigarette. 

‘This gal is just tryin’ to get under my skin. She don't know a thang.’

Miguel thought, trying to keep a level head. “Vaquera, you don't know what yer talkin’ ‘bout,” he said dismissively, leaning back in his chair and taking his cigarette into his two fingers, exhaling the smoke through his lips.

You hummed, his avoidance only making you want to poke the bear further. “Oh, I believe I do,” you stated, keeping your eyes on the ceiling. 

“Over these past couple of months, yer've been watchin’ me, as I've also been watchin’ you, hunter.” You said in a mysterious voice, Miguel's hardened face faltering at your confession.

A sly grin spread across your lips as you pressed on. “I've read and heard how the great bounty hunter captures and kills many outlaws—never taking him more than a week to complete a bounty and not given a rat's ass about any of ‘em.” You explained. “‘Even toppin’ yer rival, the great, Jessie Owens and her gunslingers on many occasions with yer many arrests.” You chuckled tauntingly.

Miguel felt a mix of emotions, stuck between being flattered and irritated at your constant prodding. He glanced over at you, flicking the ash of his cigarette into the tray, trying to figure out what you were getting at.

The hunter hated when you screwed with his brain and made him feel like a hopeless mutt that you had wrapped around your finger.

He wanted you to get to the damn point…

“And what ‘bout it?” The hunter snarled, glaring daggers at you. You simply giggled as if you weren't being targeted by a raging bull. “Be patient, Miggy, I'm gettin’ there.” You teased, your tone of voice and nickname causing the hunter’s insides to stir.

“What did I tell ya ‘bout that name?” He spat coldly, his voice holding a tone of dominance. You only laughed, struggling over onto your side to get a better view of the hunter. “To not call ya that, but yer should know better than anyone that I don't follow the rules.” You said, giving him a fake pout whilst laying your head upon the soft blanket, trying to find comfort despite being tightly restrained.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes at your fake pout that he couldn’t help but find adorable. “‘Cause yer've never had proper punishment.” He bluntly stated, his cigarette smoke leaving his lips and nose to further encase the room.

You bit your lip, glancing over at the smoking Latino up and down. “And what punishment is proper in yer eyes, hunter?” You inquired, knowing he'd surely take the bait.

Miguel looked at you, your perfect skin, the way you bite your lip, the sight only causing his breath to catch in his throat. It didn't help how tightly your clothing hugged your body, the rope only further accentuating your figure and leaving nothing to imagination of how you looked underneath all that fabric.

He wanted nothing more than to see you in all your glory…

Your eyes darted down at an evident bulge that poked against the hunter’s black pants, the corners of your lips turning up into a devious grin. The Latino, like you anticipated, took the bait, falling right into your trap.

“A proper punishment is tossin’ ya across my lap and bruisin’ that pretty ass until ya learn to behave.”

The hunter said huskily, desire potent in his western-Latino accentuated voice; however, upon seeing your amused smirk and raised eyebrow at what he'd just confessed, he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Just…goes to show that yer parents didn't teach ya how to conduct yerself properly. Anyone would believe the same.”

“Mhm…” You hummed teasingly, unable to hold back from laughing. Miguel scowled at you, hating how you always seemed to make him feel like a schoolboy time and time again. His lust and arousal blinding him so greatly that he’ll forget everything—his duties, the consequences, who you were to him.

You were a damn criminal, a dangerous one at that, with your sharp tongue and killer body that can seduce any and everyone. You did whatever it took to satisfy your own wants and desires, so why the hell was it so troubling for him to detain you?! He'd taken down and killed many outlaws, so why?

The hunter’s hands clenched tightly into fists upon the armrests, his knuckles turning white with tension under his gloves. His mahogany eyes appeared redder with his raging fury. “Stop playin’ ‘round and get to the damn point!” He barked, taking another deep inhale of his cigarette.

You grinned at his satisfying anger, the hunter never disappointing you when it came to him showing how evidently you were pissing him off, but you’ve gotten what you were seeking from him— his previous response answering your prediction.

“Fine, ya fancy me… 

Don't ya, hunter?”

Miguel's heart skipped a beat at your perfect assumption. It took everything in him to hide his emotions—something he'd never had a hard time doing until now.

He scoffed, averting his gaze. “Ya wish, sweetheart.” He coldly said, snuffing out his fifth cigarette into the ashtray and wetting his lips with his tongue.

You chuckled, shifting upon the bed to soothe the growing ache in your wrists due to the tight ropes. “Well, Miggy, a wish or not, you ain't answer my question.” You emphasized, watching his defined jaw clench and his black, gloved hand enter into his pants pocket once more, fishing for his box of cigarettes.

Miguel's entire body was heating up, feeling like the room was closing in on him; it was taking all of his willpower to not do something that could jeopardize his duties. But with you using that nickname he's told you countless times not to address him by, it was causing his pants to become increasingly uncomfortable around his already swelling member.

The hunter's bushy eyebrows tightened, his mahogany cold eyes trained on you. “Outlaws and hunters ‘re like water and oil—we don't mix, it's why we're enemies for goodness sake.” He sternly said, lighting a match to ignite his sixth cigarette. He took a deep inhale of the tobacco, a sigh of contentment passing his lips. “And I've told ya, I don't experience such feelin’ for people, and definitely not ya.”

“But yet, ya do.”

His head instantly snapped over to you, finding your gaze already on him with a grin upon your cherry lips. “And ‘cause ya do, it's tearing ya up inside… 

Ain't it, Miguel?”

A scowl crept upon the hunter's lips, his nose scrunching up in anger at your persistence.

‘What did she want? For me to spill my guts? To see me weak?!’

Miguel pondered, trying to discern your motive behind your pressing questions. He took another huge puff of his cigarette, trying to control himself.

“What game are you fuckin’ playin' at?” He growled, becoming tired of your jokes and giggles.

You laughed, giving him an innocent shoulder shrug, still bound tightly due to his handy skills. “I simply am askin’ questions like yer've allowed me to.” You said, raising an eyebrow from your laid position. “What? Have I struck a nerve?”

Miguel's eyes flashed red at your taunt, and before he could stop himself, he was standing up from his seat and walking over to you. “Don't play fuckin’ innocent with me, smartass” He snarled, his large hand encasing around your throat, effortlessly pulling you up onto your knees on the bed, bringing you face-to-face with him.

A small gasp passed your lips, his grip tight around your throat more in intimidation than harm. You glared back at him due to his sudden rough action, but upon seeing he was clearly holding on by a thread, you couldn't help but give him a flirtatious smile, one that caused his rage to deepen. “What do ya want from me? To see me lose control? To go against my damn duties?!” The hunter shouted, his face trembling in uncontrollable anger. “What ya find pleasure in that? Seeing me lose my shit?”  

“Why, yes indeed... ”

Miguel's eyes widened in disbelief at your confirmation, his anger hastily bubbling back to the surface.  “What the fuck did ya just say?” He said through gritted teeth, his cigarette hanging dangerously low from his lips, its ash dropping close to your face.

Your eyes roamed his facial features, taking in how furious he was, but you were certain his fury wasn't solely from you.

He was frustrated…

Sexually…

It was like you were a slab of meat to him and he was a starving dog. You were teasing him with your mere presence and honestly…you were enjoying it.

You could never understand why you secretly liked this hunter. Yes, he was the best of the best, and it was so fun to watch him blow his top, but it wasn't what truly led you to want to know everything about him—what kept you yearning for another encounter with him.

It wasn't until now that you finally discovered it…

His resilience to temptation was what you adored. How fascinating it'll be if he was to experience even a taste of what he craved.

It was why you allowed him a little bit of fun during your previous interaction; but even still, he was composed, never losing himself in the moment of you down on your knees for him, granting him the relief and satisfaction he so desperately was yearning for.

But you wanted him to forget your roles of hunter and outlaw and give in to his desires.

That's what you wanted from him, needed even.

You bit your lip, looking up at him from under your eyelashes. “Ya heard me, hunter. I want ya to give in to yer wants, and if that means losing control…

Then so be it...”

You smirked, watching his cold expression falter to one of surprise at your request. You grinned, never before seeing him so speechless. To entice him further, you leaned in close, your hands still bound tightly behind your back and his gloved one still around your throat, the smell of smoke and his natural musk filling your nose, only exciting you more.

“It'll be so good, Miggy to finally let go—to crave that hunger ya have for me.”

You coaxed in a low whisper, your western accent potent in your voice. Your eyes glanced down to his lips that were pulled into its usual scowl, unable to ignore how enticing they looked.

“You know I won’t stop you..."

Miguel groaned softly, his fingers flexing around your throat as his member twitched inside of his pants, begging him to give in to your words—to submit to his desires. The more you gazed up at him, saying all the right things in that sexy voice of yours…

He was tempted to give in…

“Do ya even know what ya askin’ of me?” He inquired, his eyes full of lust as he removed his cigarette from his lips. You nodded, wanting so much to touch him and persuade him. He was so close to submitting—you could feel it.

“Yes…I want ya, Miguel O’Hara. I’ve wanted ya for a long time.” You honestly said, biting your lip and looking him up and down. "Gosh, I’ve never wanted someone to fuck me so badly.”

“Mierda.” He muttered under his breath, his restraint snapping at your words of desperation as he crashed his lips to yours.

Miguel devoured your mouth in an intensity he’d never felt before. His hand tugging you closer to him by your throat to keep you pressed to him, feeling the softness of your body against his firm one was enough to make him lose it. His tongue penetrated your parted lips, finally tasting you after preventing himself for so long.

It was like he was finally tasting the forbidden elixir of the Wild West. Your sweet scent and lips enveloped him and lingered like the aftertaste of a smuggled bottle of top-shelf whiskey, each moment a clandestine sip that descended him more into the depths of no return.

You moaned softly into his mouth, his hunger being what you’ve wanted for so long. His dominance and lust grew with each interlock of your lips, and when he finally parted, you realized how breathless and aroused you were.

Miguel gazed down at you, breathing heavily while taking in your flushed cheeks and glazed eyes. Every time he saw you, you seemed to become even more breathtaking than before.

You looked back at him, panting and feeling a throbbing in your lower belly that longed to be satisfied. Now that you’ve gotten a taste of the bounty hunter, he was like a drug—his roughness and hunger turning you on more than anyone ever had in your entire life.

You wanted so much to touch him, to caress his sharp jawline decorated with a hint of stubble and feel how painfully hard his member was, but you were still, sadly, restrained—hands bound behind your back with your ankles tied together as well. Miguel ensured you wouldn’t be escaping him tonight upon entering your given room at the inn, but you wished for nothing more than to be released.

Currently, you had no desire to leave…

“Miguel…unbind me.” You requested a little desperately through ragged breaths, causing the hunter to chuckle. “Untie ya? That what ya want?” He inquired with a grin, bringing his cigarette to his lips to take another puff, exhaling the smoke. You nodded, wanting nothing more than to be free, so you could touch him in return.

The hunter saw the eagerness in your expression, bringing a smirk to his lips. He couldn’t help but feel satisfied at finally having power over you for once; it was honestly, a good feeling.

He held his cigarette between his lips, his gloved hand slipping into his pocket to pull out his steel pocket knife, effortlessly cutting through the thick rope that covered your wrists and ankles.

You sighed in relief at the sound of snips, along with subtle fibers separating, soon feeling yourself being freed. Usually, you’d instantly feel the desire to escape, to run for the heels with a huge grin upon your cherry lips at being able to outwit the hunter once more…

But not this time…

Your hands found his waist, caressing his taut skin through the fabric of his black collared top. “I knew ya could have fun.” You teased, bringing a rare smile to the hunter’s lips. He took your face in his hand, bringing you closer to him once more.

“Then saddle up, Muñeca. I’m just getting started.” He whispered, inhaling his cigarette once more before pressing his lips to yours, releasing the smoke into your mouth with each kiss.

The sharp, lingering bitterness of the smoke mingling with each exhale, accompanied by the combination of his sweet lips, created the perfect harmony. Each kiss left you breathless and lusting for him even more.

Miguel groaned softly, his thick gloved fingers moving from your neck to begin unbuttoning your dark blue and brown fringe top, revealing your gorgeous skin and assets that had been teasing him from the first time he’d encountered you.

Leaving your mouth, he trailed his lips along your throat, kissing the sensitive spots and not hesitating to push the dark blue top from your body, exposing your bare chest and stomach to him.

Your eyes fluttered at his kisses as you took the lit cigarette from his fingers, taking a drag and relishing in the serene tingles that filled your head along with Miguel’s kisses, sucks, and nibbles along your skin. You felt Miguel smirk at your action, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone before pulling away.

The sight of you gazing up at him, that playful smile on your lips as you smoked from his cigarette had to be the sexiest thing he’d ever seen—his cock throbbing in his pants to be released.

“Vas a ser la muerte de mí.” He muttered, his mahogany eyes dark with lust, as they trailed your body. His face of awe—enough to show how he was feeling.

You chuckled at his expression. “I’ll take it you like what you see?” You teased, bringing a toothy grin to the hunter’s lips. “I’ll be lyin’ if I said I didn't.” He chuckled, his large gloved hands cupping your perky breasts in his massive palms—the pair feeling like soft pillows in his hands.

He savored the soft moans that escaped your pretty mouth, capturing each whimper with a peck to your lips, unable to resist how addicting it was to kiss you.

You were aware that the hunter had experience, but it felt like he knew your body like the back of his hand. His massive palms kneaded your supple flesh, switching between soft and rough squeezes, while his fingers flicked and pinched your hardened pebbles.

In your fingers, you held your shared cigarette, eyes half-hooded. With every maneuver of his hands along your chest, your juices spilled down your thighs. “Ya like that?” He asked with a smirk, gripping your breasts tightly, making you cry out. “Mhm, Yes! Just like that,” you gasped, chest heaving with the growing pleasure.

Miguel growled at your words of satisfaction, feeling the need to be released from his clothes—his cock painfully hard inside his pants. “I have something better for ya,” he said, pulling away to remove his black wide-brimmed hat, tossing it across the room, and tugging his shirt over his head.

You bit your lip, your core pulsating at the mere sight of his defined chest. His chiseled pecs, bulging biceps, and toned abs were covered with dark brown hair, each muscle completely taut from his years of being a bounty hunter. Along his torso were faint scars and beauty marks that only emphasized his attractiveness. “Not bad, hunter,” you laughed, giving his body a once-over. Your gaze followed the happy trail of coarse hair that descended from his navel to dip under his pants towards the massive bulge that was begging to be freed from its confines. At the sight, memories of your previous encounter with him filled your mind, causing your juices to further coat your thighs and drip down your legs.

Miguel smiled, savoring the way you were looking him up and down, appreciating his body. He couldn’t remember the last time he had experienced this, but it felt good to be admired, especially by you. He noticed your eyes focused on his crotch, prompting a chuckle from him. “Don’t be scared, ya seen it before,” he said tauntingly, making you roll your eyes but unable to hide your small grin.

You crawled towards him, placing the cigarette into your mouth and beginning to unbuckle his belt, maintaining eye contact. “I must say, hunter, I’ve missed this,” you snickered, pulling his pants down to release what you’ve desired since your previous encounter.

The sight still left you speechless…

His fully erect, tanned member was presented in front of you, slightly darker than the olive skin tone of his body. A bush of dark brown coarse hair sat atop his veiny shaft, his tip a Tuscan red, with a protruding vein running along the underside that led to a pair of large, heavy balls. The hunter was definitely above average, being very girthy and long as well. You bit your lip, feeling your arousal soaking through your pants, sullying the dark blue fabric.

Miguel completely adored that look of awe upon your sexy face, leaning down to kiss along your neck while lifting you slightly to lay you down upon the bed.

His teeth and lips sucked marks along your skin that you gladly accepted whilst his heavy shaft rested against your stomach, causing your belly to flutter, and a whimper to escape your lips. “Gosh, I-I can’t wait any more,” you whined, wanting to feel him inside of you, the throbbing of your empty core becoming painful.

Your desperation was music to Miguel’s ears, his body needing you as well. “Then, let’s not wait 'round no more, Cariño.” He effortlessly whipped you around to lay you on all fours upon the bed—your forearms and knees holding your body up as your clothed rear end was thrust into the air, left completely vulnerable to him.

Miguel took in your gorgeous backside, an evident trail of your arousal sprouting down your pants like the trails of a passing storm, nature’s delicate brushstrokes down the dark blue fabric that covered your bottom, the sight making his cock twitch.

He licked his lips, reaching over to remove the lit cigarette from your cherry lips to place it in his, inhaling it as he ran his large hand along your clothed bottom. Your eyes fluttered, the sensations seeming to be heightened due to your inability to see him. The hunter groaned, giving your cheeks a rough squeeze, releasing a moan from your throat.

Fuck, ya perfect,” he whispered, feeling his gloved fingers roam along your clothed, drenched folds, adding slight pressure that caused you to further soil your pants—your essence soaking the fabric even more, and revealing the evident outline of your soppy pussy underneath. Miguel groaned, roaming his hands to squeeze your bare hips and caress your rear, soon returning back to where you wanted him the most.

You whimpered softly, savoring how good he was making you feel until the loud sound of a rip filled the room, causing your eyes to snap open.

A rush of air suddenly made contact with your rear end and throbbing pussy as you looked over your shoulder to see that Miguel had ripped your pants open—granting him a clear view of your heavily dripping core.

You were conflicted, not knowing whether to be angry or even more aroused; however, you weren’t able to respond as the hunter didn’t hesitate to grind his massive length along your dripping folds—the wet sound filling the walls. “O-oh fuck,” you moaned, arching your back and moving in sync with him.

Miguel couldn’t get over how wet you were, his thick cock gliding through your folds, testing your saturation. “Hmm…ready?” he asked in a small growl.

You were only able to muster a broken, "Mhm," in response before feeling his massive tip begin to seep inside of your soaking entrance.

A drawn-out moan passed both of your lips, his gloved hand clenching the remnants of your pants that enclosed around your waist, holding you during his insertion. Once he bottomed-out, it took everything in him to not lose himself in how much your pussy was gripping him, the urge to thrust into you with total abandon being very enticing.

Your fingers gripped the beige blankets tightly, eyes rolled into your skull at how much he was blissfully stretching you. It instantly made your mind go blank.

The pleasure only heightened with his slow slide out and breathtaking slam of his cock back in, releasing a loud mewl to erupt from your throat. With each drag of his member inside your dripping entrance, his force and speed increased until he was brutally fucking you like a rabid animal.

Miguel couldn’t help himself; he tried so hard to take it slow, to not harm you like he feared this whole time, but you were too perfect, he swore you were.

You took him so well, too well, that he became lost in the pleasure. Your exquisite pussy gripped his cock just right with each thrust, his hips smacking loudly against your rear.

The room was filled with the echoing of slapping wet flesh, high-pitched moans, deep grunts, and the loud creaking of the bed.

The scent of sex and smoke was potent as Miguel occasionally took puffs of his cigarette. You didn’t even notice the pleasurable and painful tears streaming down your face at the sheer intensity of his pace—switching constantly from erratic and rough to slow and deep.

The ashes from his cigarette occasionally dropped onto your lower back, burning your skin and sending a sting throughout your entire body. The pain only deepening the extreme sensations coursing through your being. Your brain was scrambled, your body trembling, and already releasing for the second time under his influence.

Miguel groaned, brushing your hair from your shoulder to nuzzle into your neck, inhaling your sweet, natural scent, his pace never ceasing. “Fuck, bebé, you feel so good. Mierda.” He moaned into your ear, his cigarette hanging from his lips, as his praises caused the familiar knots to form in your stomach again.

It seemed Miguel had found the weakness to your witty tongue. With his pace, you couldn’t form a word—whimpers, whines, shrieks, and the occasional cries of his name were the only sounds you could muster.

With any other man, you would have felt pathetic, but with him, you’ve never felt so alive.

With a gasp, Miguel pulled out, flipping you to lie on your back. Your dazed eyes blinked, trying to settle your blurry vision on him.

The hunter gazed down at you, your rosy tear-stained cheeks, messy hair, hickey-filled neck, dripping pussy only arousing him once more. He inhaled the rest of his cigarette, pinching the end to snuff the flame before kissing you, his cock entering your eager hole once more.

You moaned into his mouth, the smoky taste, and his lips only intensifying the burning tension in the pit of your stomach. His thrusts were slow and deep while his mouth ravaged yours, exchanging the smoke of his cigarette with you with each interlock of your lips.

Miguel was feeling himself getting terribly close, his balls becoming painfully tight, every clench of your pussy leaving him twitching; but he needed another orgasm from you.

He groaned into your mouth, your kiss becoming more messy. Saliva dripped from your chins whilst your tongues entwined with each hungry mesh of your lips.

With each kiss, Miguel slowly increased his pace—his coarse hair grinding into your swollen clit, heavy balls smacking into your rear along with his gloved hands gripping your hips, angling himself as he pulled you against him in a frenzy.

Your eyes rolled, moans constantly becoming stuck in your throat with each of his deep thrusts. His member constantly attacked your G-spot, causing you to become a moaning, trembling mess underneath him.

Abruptly, your orgasm crashed into you like a stampede. You cried out Miguel’s name through your climax, spraying your juices in thick spurts, haphazardly, into the air, coating your stomach, thighs, and Miguel’s abs and cock with your essence. The loud sounds of dripping and squelching filled the room upon your orgasm.

At your release, your pussy clutched Miguel’s cock tightly, a blissful rush of tingles coming over him. His thrusts became sporadic and inept following you in your climax.

He hastily pulled out, shooting his creamy, white load upon your stomach with a guttural groan, the veins upon his lower belly and thighs pulsated, his mahogany eyes closed whilst breathless grunts passed his parted lips with each release of his essence.

Your eyes fluttered at the warm sensation as you tried to catch your breath and regain your thoughts and strength after the intense moment, but it was no use…

Miguel had fucked you senselessly.

But it was so worth it.

You’ve gotten what you wanted—the hunter to give in to his desires, to grant you the fucking of a lifetime, and he’d done so and even more.

Miguel climbed on next to you, the bed creaking under his heavy weight as he laid down beside you. His burly arms wrapped around your frail body, pulling you gently to his chest. He found your pants and small tremors utterly adorable as he kissed your bare shoulder. You blinked back the dizziness from your previous encounter, glancing over your shoulder at the hunter to find something you couldn’t believe…

You found love in his eyes…

“You okay?” He asked in his usual gruff voice, stroking his thumb across your rosy, tear-stained cheeks, his mahogany eyes roaming your face with a trace of concern. You scoffed at his expression. “Of course.” You chuckled, noticing that he wasn’t at all breathless and tired as you were—simply lying upon the bed like the two of you weren’t just fucking like two animals in heat.

“Did ya enjoy yourself?” You inquired, turning to face him, but with some struggle—your body already feeling sore. He placed a hand on your hip, caressing you with a smile. “Of course, what was not to love?” He genuinely said, making you raise an eyebrow at the flattery. “Oh really now, is the infamous bounty hunter complimenting me?” You asked teasingly, finding his damp coffee-brown curls clinging to his sweaty forehead rather cute.

At your playful remark, hus grin broadened on his tanned face. “You can keep a secret, can’t ya, sweetheart?” He smirked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Miguel never felt his heart swell so much. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but he didn’t want it to ever stop.

You laughed, gazing up at him. “Of course…At a price.” Miguel snickered, anticipating the response, but it still piqued the hunter’s interest. “And what’s that, miel?”

“Don’t turn me in.”

At your words, meant as a joke, Miguel’s heartfelt smile instantly dropped, bringing him back to the reality of the West.

You were an outlaw… 

He was a bounty hunter… 

Bounty hunters and outlaws didn’t mix… 

He’s supposed to take you in…

“Mierda.” He sighed, every happy emotion he felt draining from his face to be replaced with his usual cold expression of a scowl and dead mahogany eyes.

“Miggy?” You called out to him, your eyebrows furrowed. “Are ya okay?” You inquired, your turn now to ask about his well-being, but it was met with silence.

Miguel had never felt more disheartened and conflicted. He adored his job as a bounty hunter, the thrill of the hunt and the ability to use his exceptional skills to track down any criminal for a hefty amount of gold and cash, but you made him question everything…

It’ll be hypocritical of him to chase down outlaws like a damn dog, arrest them or either kill them depending on their crimes, and do neither to you.

You were a criminal, you’ve robbed and stole from many, and have taken a few heads with you along the way.

But fuck…

He couldn’t bring himself to hurt you or arrest you.

So he’d returned back to the question once more.

What should be done with you…?

He turned over to look at you, taking in your troubled eyes that gazed back at him. His hardened expression softened at your face that showed genuine interest in him in return.

Or were you playing him once more…

The hunter reached out, cupping your cheek in his large gloved one, the action instantly making your heart warm. You leaned into his palm, eyes trained on him. “Ya thinkin’ again. Ain’t ya?” You asked, heaving a sigh.

Miguel stroked your face with his thumb, relishing in how soft your skin was. “How can I not? This is goin’ against everythang I stand for.” He uttered, but unable to pull his hand away, and neither did you wish him to.

Even though you were used to the seduction of many men—only sleeping with most of them for survival or for a means to escape, but now…

You desired the hunter, despite him being your enemy.

He’d killed and arrested many people like you— did it without a blink of an eye, but instead of feeling fearful of that, it oddly, only made you want him more.

You placed a hand on his chest, delicately tracing patterns along the curves of his chiseled and ruggedly hairy pecs, a comforting silence enveloping both of you. Miguel’s deep sigh of contentment escaped his lips as his large hand moved from your face to tenderly stroke your lower back, pulling you closer to him.

“Yer never answered my question.” Your western accent filled the room once more, looking up at him. Miguel's bushy eyebrows furrowed, his mind a little foggy due to your mere closeness and touch. “What question?” He asked, glancing down at you, his confusion making you giggle. “Gosh, how did I remember and not ya?” You playfully teased, believing he’d previously scrambled your brain to no return, instead, it seemed you’ve done so to the hunter.

The corners of his tightly drawn lips twitched to a smirk. “I was just…lost in the moment.” Miguel replied. “But what’s the question I didn’t answer?”

“If ya fancy me or not.” You stated, the hunter’s heart jumping at the reappearance of the question. He grunted, his burly arm enclosing around your waist possessively, pressing his firm body against your soft, supple one. “I shouldn’t...” He whispered with a heavy sigh, feeling with each passing second, he was doing what he’d told himself he’d never do.

Love… 

Feel…

“But ya do.” You retorted once more, cupping his face. “So whatcha gonna do ‘bout it?” You asked playfully with a grin.

That smile—that smile was everything to the hunter and always made his heart flutter and his stomach to stir. “That’s what I’m debatin’ in my head, Cariño.” The Latino sighed. “For the first time, in a long time, I don’t know what the hell to do.” A troubled expression crossed the hunter’s face, making you feel sorry for him—you’ve never seen him so conflicted.

"What's yer head sayin'?" You asked, already knowing the answer. "To take yer fine ass in," he replied in a gruff voice, tightening his grip around you, as if he never could let you go.

You hummed, feeling him rest his chin upon your head, another sigh passing his lips. "And how 'bout this?" You asked next, placing a hand over his right pec, where his heart resided.

"What's that cold heart of yer's tellin’ ya?"

Miguel's mahogany eyes snapped down at you, your inquiries seeming to punch him in the gut each time. He kept your gaze, staring into your intrigued orbs.

The hunter wet his lips before cupping your chin between his gloved fingers, leaning close to you, his breath mingling with yours. His eyes roamed your face before allowing his heart to speak the words he'd been holding in for so long.

"To make ya mine."

Miguel said, his mahogany eyes never leaving yours. "I wanna take care of ya, not allow ya to have to steal another coin in yer entire life," the hunter uttered, his fingers caressing your chin and jaw. "I wanna protect ya, love ya, ride alongside ya in the desert—not as enemies with an intent to capture ya…, 

But as lovers…"

You stared back at the infamous and cold bounty hunter, not quite believing the confession pouring from his lips.

In all your life of being an outlaw and criminal, you've had moments where you've tangled in the sheets with a few individuals, them speaking similar things as the hunter did, but you never felt the same. Simply flashing them a grin, and upon them falling asleep, hastily finding the nearest exit and riding off into the sunset. However, right now...

You didn't want to run.

"Ya sure?" You asked with a smirk. "I'm quite the handful." You said, tucking a curl of his damp coffee brown hair behind his ear. Your words caused a deep rumble of laughter to erupt from the hunter, one that surprised him. His mahogany eyes that usually held death and coldness in them, now were full of love and affection.

"I reckon I've always been fond of a good challenge." The hunter said, pressing his lips to the top of your head, his kisses always bringing a wave of warmth to spread throughout your body. "I figured as much." You giggled, meeting his loving gaze. "But let me let ya in on a 'lil secret." You grinned, beckoning him closer with a finger. Miguel raised an eyebrow, a small smile upon his lips as he leaned in, awaiting your next words.

"I've always had a soft spot for ya, hunter."

You said in a low whisper, the Latino swiftly pulling away in shock, meeting your eyes to find any sign of deceit, but either you were playing him again, or you were genuine. Either way, his heart swelled at your confession.

"So…whatcha tryin' to do, vaquera?" He asked, his duties, reputation, or him being a hypocrite vanishing to the back of his head. Your confession tugged at him more than he'd expected. It was something he'd always secretly wanted, needed even—for his oppressed affections and missed arrests to not have been for nothing.

That after all this time of exchanging bullets and cutthroat words, you actually felt the same…

The hunter still couldn't wrap his head around the fact you fancied him in return, but he was certain he was willing to do anything for you in this moment.

You flashed him a grin, knowing his duties as a bounty hunter were tied to his very soul, unable to separate from him as your troublesome nature was with yours. "Then how 'bout we try this whole… secret lovers thing, eh?" You proposed, caressing the side of his thick neck and along his broad shoulder.

Miguel hummed at your touch, deep down liking the idea very much. He wanted nothing more than to experience moments with you that didn't end with guns being drawn. "I'll be willin' to give it a go." The hunter replied, not knowing how much his agreement made your heart soar.

You hastily pressed your lips to his, capturing him in a passionate kiss. Miguel smiled, kissing you back with much fervor and pulling you on top of him. His hands caressed your soft flesh while you straddled his hips. Your kiss swiftly became more heated and intense as a small groan escaped the hunter's lips, soon feeling something hard brushing against your thigh.

You parted from him with a laugh, glancing down to find he was heavily aroused once more before meeting his eyes. "Ya want me again, hunter?" You asked in a sultry voice, causing a huge grin to spread across his lips, a sight still so foreign from his usual deep scowl.

"Always…"

He uttered, cupping the back of your neck and pulling you into a long searing kiss. Your evident adoration for each other felt in each deep interlock of your lips.

And in that moment, the hunter knew he loved you, as you knew you loved him in return…

“Ya sure it’s him?”

The rough western accent of a woman uttered through the quiet of the night, the breeze brushing along her ebony skin and running through her thick, black curls.

“Absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt,” the older male replied. “Yeah, he was lookin’ real close with that outlaw back at the saloon, a lil’ too close if ya know what I mean,” the other added, causing a growl to escape the woman’s crimson lips.

“What the fuck are you doin’ Miguel?”

She hissed under her breath, her gloved thumb spinning the caliber of her pistol in thought.

“So…Jessica…what’s the plan?

We gettin’ rid of him?”

“Nay…” Jessica Owens replied, whipping around to look at the two gunslingers. Her cold amber eyes bore into them through her black eyeglasses, and the two straightened up under their leader's harsh gaze.

“I wanna see this for myself…”

A/N: Thanks so much for reading!! I know I've already mentioned it, but gosh, I enjoyed writing this, and to confirm, yes, there will be a part 2. 🧡🐴

Honestly, along with my other stories, Entangled Desires (The kink series), and requests, there is a lot that I'll like to get done, so please be patient with me lol. 😅 Once again, thank you so much, bestie, @amariiyagurl for the idea. Love you so much girlie!! 🫶🏾🫶🏾

Make sure to like, comment, reblog, and follow! If you'd like to add a request to the kink series, Entangled Desire, or have an idea in general, just message me or submit an ask. I hope you all have a wonderful day and stay safe! 🤎🧡

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[olderthannetfic]

My favorite example of "space tamales" with MENA/SWANA characters was in a fic where an author described Farsi as "a dialect of Arabic." My sister in Christ, they are not even related languages. Farsi is Indo-European (like English is) and Arabic is a Semitic language. The author claimed to be "really passionate about language learning" too, but apparently not passionate enough to just look up 101 stuff about these two major world languages on Wikipedia....

Another thing I see a lot with Asian (especially outside of China/Korea/Japan), African and SWANA cultures in particular in fic is this thing where the "traditional cultural elements" means they're luddites compared to everybody else. Like space futures where the Middle-Eastern character's family are still living in desert caravans with no modern tech or the African character's are doing that in some stereotype of a rural village with no running water or electricity.

Like you'd have hoped that the internationally popular movie Black Panther would've introduced more people to the fact that Afrofuturism = thing that exists, and more broadly that you can do a high-tech, spacefaring future that is culturally non-Western and what that might look like.... and yet people still get stuck on this.

The only non-Western cultures they seem to be able to envision as futuristic are (sometimes) East Asian ones, probably because of cyberpunk and anime.

It makes me want to see a reversal of this sometime. The non-white/Western characters' homes are these super futuristic megalopolises with flying cars, but you follow the French character home and it's still like pre-revolutionary Paris with giant wigs and horses-and-carriages and no indoor plumbing for some reason.

--

A DIALECT OF ARABIC?!?!

And the space!French will 10000% have a bunch of places that make wine in a 1700s way and are extremely annoying about it.

[oliveroctavius]

I got this ask on main but thought I'd pick it up here, my comics history/fashion ramble blog. I'd been wondering this exact same thing recently, and Google initially wasn't much help—Rocketeer replica jackets describe themselves only as "Rocketeer jackets" and the one Lobster Johnson cosplay thread just suggested ordering one of those.

The most curious part is the double seam and horizonal row of buttons that mark out the entire front as possibly being an unbuttonable "bib", like a plastron front. (Please don't ask how late in the game I worked out that "plastron" is the right word for that.)

The closest genuine Golden Age example of a plastron jacket I found was the military tunic style uniform of Blackhawk, created in 1941.

(Pics from the '52 movie serial (right) really show how awkward it is to combine open lapels + plastron. On a double breasted coat, that chest panel IS the bottom lapel, folded shut.)

Here's the thing: This outfit mirrors that of the Nazi ace pilot he fights in the origin issue, von Tepp (middle). And compare further to the far right: real life WWI flying ace Manfred von Richthofen, AKA the Red Baron, in imperial German Uhlan (lance cavalry) uniform.

"The Germans had designed such great costumes, we decided to use them ourselves," co-creator Cuidera is quoted as saying in Steranko's History of Comics, which (more dubiously, in my opinion) compares the look to the Gestapo or SS. Breeches or jodhpurs weren't strictly a Nazi thing at the time, but they do add to the overall effect.

Compare two other military tunic themed costumes from 1940, on Captain Marvel and Bucky Barnes. These are asymmetrically buttoned, and switch to a more classic circus strongman look below the waist.

But somewhere around 1975, with the Invaders book, Bucky gets a buttoned bib! There's something infectious about it—the symmetry, maybe. (Even re: the characters we started with; Mignola didn't draw Lobster Johnson with buttons down the right side, but every artist after does. And Spider-Noir wore a sweater under his coat until Shattered Dimensions introduced the double-breasted vest.)

If it didn't reach his belt, Barnes' button-on front + shirt collar combo would resemble a bib-front western shirt, like the one that became the Rawhide Kid's signature look in '56. (Or Texas Twister's in '76.)

This shirt entered the old-West-obsessed public imagination in the 1940s/50s largely because John Wayne wore it in several cowboy movies. In reality it was rare among cowboys, more common with firefighters and civil war era militia.

Military tunics, Western shirts, alright, but does anything match the style and material and era, or are these jackets a total anachronism? I tried looking into 1930s leather flight jackets and was surprised when the closest-looking results were marked as Luftwaffe.

It took me a bit to work out why: USAF and RAF issued standard flight jackets with a center closure. The Luftwaffe instead let their pilots buy non-standardized ones. The 'weird' double-breasted black German flight jackets were in fact fairly normal (but repurposed) motorcycle racing jackets.

Far left is an English biker's jacket that dates back to the 1920s. Even without the bib, this may be as close as you'll get to an authentic Rocketeer. The jodhpurs were pretty common to complete the look. (What was an early motorcycle anyways, if not a weird metal horse?) The first biker jacket with the now iconic off-center diagonal zip was designed in America in 1928 and yet as far as I can tell, not a single actual pre-war pulp hero wore one.

The greatest weakness of this post is that I haven't been able to find any of these artists' notes on how, exactly, they arrived at similar versions of this iconic Pulp Front Panel Jacket. I'm sure I've missed some things. But as far as I can tell, this jacket is an odd bit of convergent stylistic evolution from the above influences that's picked up enough momentum to now be self-perpetuating.

The problem with pulp heroes is that for the most part, they just wore clothes. The appeal of this jacket is actually very similar to what the 1940s thought the appeal of the bib-front shirt in westerns was: It's alien enough to feel "old". It looks like something invented before zippers or synthetic fabrics. It looks formal and militant but also renegade, rebellious. It also looks a little mad-sciencey*. It's a costume, but you can nearly fool yourself into thinking the past was weird enough that you could find something this cool on the rack.

If I wanted to end on some grand point, I could try to argue that there's a thematic throughline between fascist fashion, John Wayne movies, and throwback pulp. A manufactured aesthetic valorizing the violence of a fictional golden age... but I think the noir stylings of the post-Rocketeer comics in this lineup mean that, at least on some level, they know the "good guys" didn't dress like this.

*If I had another couple weeks of time to burn, I'd try to trace the visual history of the Howie coat in popular culture and investigate its possible connections to this. Alas, I do actually have a life.

[bracketsoffear]

The Iliad (Homer) "(Unless otherwise noted, translations are by Peter Green.)

"Goddess, sing of the cataclysmic wrath of great Achilles, son of Peleus, which caused the Greeks immeasurable pain and sent so many noble souls of heroes to Hades…" (translation by Emily Wilson)

The Iliad is the archetypical war story. It traces the destructive path of the demigod Achilles, who sets in motion a devastating series of events when he refuses to fight the Trojans in a pique of pride. The infamous catalogue of ships in Book 2 gives a sense of the mind-numbing scale of a war fought over something as intangible as the pride of men and gods. The lavish descriptions of battle and the accounts of individual deaths and wounds give a sense of the utter devastation of war and the grief it leaves behind:

"Not in vain from [Diomēdēs's] hand did the missile fly, but struck Phēgeus full in mid-breast, threw him clear of his horses. Then from the fine-crafted chariot Idaios sprang down, but dared not make a stand over his slain brother, nor would he himself have escaped the black death spirit without the aid of Hēphaistos, who saved him, hid him in darkness, to ensure that aged Darēs [father of Phēgeus and Idaios] was not wholly undone by grief."

Without the help of Achilles, the Trojans begin to gain ground on the Greeks. Torn between his pride and his concern for his comrades, Achilles agrees to let his beloved Patroclus disguise himself in Achilles' armor to hearten the Greeks and scare the Trojans:

"All at once [the Greeks] came charging out like a swarm of wasps by the roadside that boys have a way of provoking to fury, constantly teasing them in their nests along the highway, as children will, creating a widespread nuisance, so that if some traveler passing by should happen to annoy them by accident, they with aggressive spirit all come buzzing out in defense of their offspring-- like them in heart and spirit the Myrmidons now streamed forth from the ships, and an endless clamor arose…"

Hector, prince of Troy kills Patroclus and unleashes the unbridled wrath of Achilles, who becomes so enraged he slaughters every Trojan in his path so gruesomely he enrages the River itself:

"Achilles, scion of Zeus, now left his spear on the bank, leaning against a tamarisk, and charged in like a demon, armed only with his sword, horrific deeds in mind. He turned and struck at random, and ghastly cries went up from those caught by his sword: the water ran red with blood…"

"My lovely streams are currently all awash with corpses; I can't get to discharge my waters into the bright sea, I'm so choked with the dead, while you ruthlessly keep on killing!"

When the River almost drowns Achilles, he's terrified--not of death, but of being robbed the glory of his promised death at the hands of the Trojans: "If only Hektōr had killed me, the best-bred warrior here, / then noble had been the slayer, noble the man he slew…"

In The Iliad, war is destruction and grief but simultaneously honor and glory, and Achilles is only one of the many characters who move through its battlefields like the incarnation of Slaughter itself."

All Quiet on the Western Front (Erich Maria Remarque) ""I am young, I am twenty years old; yet I know nothing of life but despair, death, fear, and fatuous superficiality cast over an abyss of sorrow. . . ."

This is the testament of Paul Bäumer, who enlists with his classmates in the German army during World War I. They become soldiers with youthful enthusiasm. But the world of duty, culture, and progress they had been taught breaks in pieces under the first bombardment in the trenches.

Through years of vivid horror, Paul holds fast to a single vow: to fight against the principle of hate that meaninglessly pits young men of the same generation but different uniforms against one another . . . if only he can come out of the war alive."

[satoaiandsonaze]

Heyyy! I'd love it if you made a fanfic of the Negaishipping Wild West AU ;D Thanks!!

Okay, sure!

Title of story: Beyond the Sunset

(Part 1)

Down in the desert, with the sun scorching the dry grounds and the cactus that spread thinly across the Westonia Region, two horse-like figures were moving across the land.

The two horse-like figures you were seeing are Mudsdales, the best mode of transportation across the Westonia Region. Upon these two horse-like Pokémon were two champions, a boy and a girl, from two different regions visiting this dry region, searching for ways to help any town they come across.

The boy was Ash Ketchum, Champion of Alola, as well as the Monarch of the PWCS, with his partner Pikachu on his lap, his Lucario on the back of Ash's Mudsale, passed out from heat exhaustion, and his Charizard flying above Ash with intentions of giving his own trainer enough shade from the hot sun. The girl was Iris, Champion of Unova, as well as the world's youngest and strongest Dragon Master, with her partners Emolga and Excadrill already passed out from the heat; Emolga was on her lap, and Excadrill on the back of the Mudsdale Iris was driving. Iris also had methods of gaining shade from the sun, with her Hydreigon flying above her.

These two have just arrived from their respective regions, with intentions of offering help to people from towns in Westonia. They just finished visiting the first town in the region, and they were just now making their way to the biggest city in Westonia. But unfortunately, they left for the town on the hottest day of the entire year, and that tripled here in Westonia, which was making the journey there even more painful.

They are about halfway through to the city when we start our story. "Sheesh," Ash complained. "How much longer? I've got to get Lucario out of this heat!" Ash was getting scared for his Lucario, and they were trying to hurry to the city. "Quit your whining, Ash!" Iris yelled at him from the back. "Only a little kid would get that affected by the heat!" Iris was trying to act tougher than her boyfriend, but was failing miserably; She was struggling just as much as Ash, maybe just a little more since she had TWO Pokémon passed out from heat. And to make matters worse, the clothes they were wearing were making them sweat like crazy!

When they got to Westonia, they bought some local Western attire, so they could blend in with the culture well. It was easy for Ash to choose his clothes: Blue jeans with a cool design on the lower legs, Cowboy boots with spurs, a red long-sleeve shirt, and a brown vest, as well as a nice Cowboy hat on his head, a belt around his waist and some good gloves around his hands. Iris had the most trouble. Everyone insisted that Iris wear a dress, as most girls in Westonia do, but Iris would not put one on, as the only times she wore a dress were during Unova Champion moments and duties, and whenever Ash invited her to a nice party. In the end, Iris won the argument and got an outfit similar to Ash's: Blue jeans with that same design on the lower section as the one on Ash's, boots with spurs, a purple long-sleeve shirt, a black vest, and a pretty Cowboy hat on her head, a neat belt around her waist, and only one glove on her left hand. The one move Ash didn't know she would do was that Iris unbuttoned the bottom of her shirt, exposing a small amount of her lower stomach, and tying the ends together underneath her chest. While he watched his girlfriend do this, you can garuntee that he had a hard blush on his face, and he wasn't even putside in the heat yet!

Iris was about to completely unbutton her shirt when she heard her boyfriend scream in excitement. "I see the town!" Ash exclaimed. Iris was excited by this news, as she was ready to rest in an inn with air conditioning for the remainder of the day. With a command of High Horsepower to the Mudsdales, they were galloping at full speeds towards the town. At long last, they arrived at Sandform City, the largest city in Westonia!

They parked their Mudsdales at the stables, and went inside the inn, where the city's local Nurse Joy was waiting at a counter. "Hello, and welcome to the Pokémon Center!" Iris and Ash were quick and desperate for a room. Telling her about what happened along the way. With a calm smile, Nurse Joy told them that the only way to wake up Pokémon from heat exhaustion was to constantly run cold water from the showers onto their bodies. "Works for me! I need a shower, anyway!" Iris said. "Me, as well!" Ash said, following after his girlfriend.

Both were slow to walk up the stairs, as not only were they carrying the bodies of their tired Pokémon up those stairs, but they were also in a lot of pain doing so, as the bodies of Steel Pokémon get hot quickly, with their bodies absorbing heat. No wonder Steel Types are weak to fire!

After 5 minutes of running constant cold water on their bodies, Lucario and Excadrill finally woke up! Relived by this, Iris quickly claimed to be the first one to take a shower! "Alright," Ash groaned at the hearing of this. "I'll go find our room and get us settled in." While she was preparing for a shower, Ash found the room they were staying and immediately took a good nap as soon as he landed his head on the pillow of one of the two beds in the room.

After Iris was done with her shower, Ash went in next, and it was around sunset when he was done! After he was done, they went down to the diner and had a pretty tasty dinner! By the tike they were finished eating, they were both exceedingly tired. It was pretty much dark outside when they decided to go to bed. Just before they both fell asleep, this small conversation happened.

Iris: Hey, Ash?

Ash: Yeah, what's up?

Iris: Why did you volunteer for this? This place is so hot, it's tiring!

Ash: Because people are struggling here, and I don't want it to endure!

Iris: I had a feeling you'd say that... Well, I would never dream of leaving you alone to do this in this massive amount of heat!

Ash: You still with me, then?

Iris: Of course! I'm with you until the end of the Sunset!

Ash: Thanks.Well, let's get some sleep. We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.

Iris: Will do! Goodnight! I love you!

Ash: Goodnight! And I love you, too!

And with that, the two dosed off, with intentions of learning why the people of this fine town are struggling with finances.

That's all I've got for now! I just woke up, and I ran out of ideas instantly, so I made this a multi-parter! Enjoy for now, and when you're ready for it, send me an ask, and I'll make more!

[invisibleraven]

"Be gentle, please." for Rulie plz and thank you

Julie swiped her forehead, feeling the sweat gathering there, as she was unused to the humid air that seemed to permeate the Georgia air. It was so different from the heat of LA that she had grown up with, but Reggie had asked her to come, meet his MeeMaw, see where he grew up, and well, she was unable to deny him anything.

"You ready?"

Julie turned and she wasn't sure how she didn't swoon-there he was in all his cowboy glory. From the hat to the boots, looking like something out of a Western and her fantasies all wrapped together. She gave an exaggerated whistle, causing Reggie to blush, tipping his hat as if to hide it.

"Lookin' pretty good yourself there darlin'."

Julie grinned-the jeans were tight, the shirt one of his old flannels and the hat one MeeMaw had pressed on her head. She felt kind of silly, but the mirror had proved she could pull it off.

"Let's go meet some horses."

The stables were a bit cooler and shaded, a minor relief from the warm day, though the smell left something to be desired, making Julie wrinkle her nose as it hit her. But then she saw the horses and froze. "Oh wow, I didn't realize they were so...big."

Reggie chuckled. "Yeah, they're all a few hands high. Good stock too-MeeMaw prides herself on that. You wanna meet them?"

"They're friendly right?" Julie asked, clinging to Reggie's arms as he lead her to the stalls.

"Most of them are," Reggie replied, then nodded at a stall with a large black stallion was huffing at them. "Not Boxer there though, but we won't be riding him."

Julie whimpered and then let Reggie lead her further away, taking in the large horse before here. Watching as Reggie offered it an apple, leaning his forehead against its nose.

"This here is Old Red-he was mine when I was a kid. He's retired now, but I still gotta spoil him a little." Then a roan mare. "This here is Sugarfoot-she's yours today. Sweetest filly there is. And over there is Jake, my new horse. You wanna give them some sugar?"

Julie looked at Reggie who was biting back a laugh then held out some sugar cubes for her to offer the horse. Julie glared at him before holding an open palm up to her horse, giggling as she ate the sugar.

She rubbed the horse's nose after the sugar was gone, finding Sugarfoot much less scary as she nuzzled her mane. But the prospect of riding her was still slightly terrifying.

But Reggie assured her that he would be right there, they were only going for a short trot, and if she really didn't like it, she never had to do it again.

Assurances aside, she still clung to the reins as they exited the barn. "Okay Sugarfoot, I'm new to this, so...be gentle please?"

"Darlin' she couldn't be anything else," Reggie assured her. "Not with you."

"So just like you?"

Reggie blushed again at her teasing, then coughed and gave her instruction on how to steer, speed up, slow down, and stop with noises and using the reins. Julie caught on fairly quick, giving a delighted laugh when she went around the paddock a few times with success.

"Alright, let's go."

They left the paddock, and Julie shivered as a breeze blew through her curls, feeling a bit freer without the fences, but also a little scared to know she was going forth on the whims of the wild beast between her thighs. But Reggie was right there, grinning madly as he pointed out scenery, telling her stories, and humming as they went, so that eased her mind a little.

Not enough to let go of her death grip on the reins, but enough that she wasn't hyperventilating.

"You wanna go a little faster?" Reggie asked.

Julie bit her bottom lip, but gave a hesitant nod-"Not too fast right?"

"Cantor, not gallop."

They sped up, and Julie laughed as the wind made her curls fly behind her, cooling her down, and made her feel like she was flying.

"That was fun!" she exclaimed as they slowed, coming to a stop by a small pond near a willow tree.

"Told ya so," Reggie quipped, helping her down, letting the horses graze as they sat in the shade, trading a water bottle back and forth whilst cuddling.

"It's so beautiful here," she sighed, nuzzling into Reggie. "You must miss it so much."

"Some days," he admitted. "But I do love Cali too. It's our home, it's where we met. I couldn't imagine living anywhere else. But maybe we could come back here more often?"

"I'd like that," Julie admitted. "How else are we gonna teach the kids how to ride a horse?"

"Kids?"

"One day," Julie shrugged.

"I like the sound of that," Reggie whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'll ask MeeMaw to set aside a foal when we get there."

"Think they make the hats that small?"

Reggie tilted her chin up, giving her that infamous grin of his. "Darlin', I know they do." Before pulling her into a kiss that rivalled the heat of the day and the feeling of riding all at once.

[hikayunas]

i don't know if i've ever really brought up the specific animals that i associate with each promised blood girl, so i'm going to put them all in one place, for ease of access

(under a readmore though, because this unexpectedly got out of hand. oops.)

yuna -- amur tiger (Panthera tigris altaica). generally the largest, bulkiest tiger, with very thick, sometimes messy-looking fur, which tends to be paler than other tigers'. yuna being an unusually small, scrawny amur tiger is a good fit for how she's also an unusually small and scrawny oni, and the shaggy, pale fur matches up with her long, ashy gray hair.

the amur tiger was also one of two tiger subspecies, along with the south china tiger, that inspired the boom of popularity of tigers and tiger imagery in japan, and were likely the inspirations behind tiger-dragon yin-yang taoist imagery, which is a direct inspiration for yuna herself and her relationship with juri.

hikaru -- shire horse. the largest breed of draft horse, and the largest breed of horse overall. traditionally used to haul carts and carriages around, and for other physically demanding labor, just as hikaru runs around practically as promised blood's workhorse.

they tend to be very easygoing; sometimes described as "eager-to-please", like a certain other horse. they're still very muscular, but not as bulked up as other breeds, like the ardennais or suffolk punch, and tend to look a bit more long and lanky while also being muscular and able to work plenty hard and do their jobs as needed.

ao -- banded sea krait (Laticauda colubrina). a species of venomous sea snake, which has markings and colors that are strikingly similar to ao herself, with its faded blue scales, black stripes, and white belly and face. the banded sea krait has particularly potent venom, though it doesn't tend to bite -- they're particularly docile, not tending to bite unless rather harshly provoked or threatened.

there's even an old wives' tale that the banded sea krait's mouth is too small to properly bite a person, despite their venom, which is easily matched up with ao's reluctance to properly kill another person, and how she's viewed as too "innocent", "pure", or "weak" to bloody her axe and sink her fangs in, even when provoked or pushed around, like the other promised blood girls have, could, and will.

juri -- stereotypical, fire-breathing western dragon. dragons aren't real, of course, but there are lots of different reptile species that i pull from for juri, for both behavior and appearance -- a variety of lizards and crocodilians, mostly. the red-eyed crocodile skink (Tribolonotus gracilis) and taylor's anole (Anolis taylori) in particular feel very "juri", but more in appearance than behavior.

lakehurst does have a prominent dewlap, which is seen in a lot of lizard species -- mainly anoles and iguanas, and is used in both for both threat and courtship displays, primarily by males.

the bat of monzenbashi -- flying fox (genus Pteropus). the largest species of bats, and because of their very canine faces, also the most charismatic. flying foxes are sometimes regarded as the bullies of the bat world; picking on other bats in their colonies and commonly attempting to snatch pieces of fruit from another bat's mouth or claws, to the point where some bats will hide their faces in their wings when they're eating to avoid other bats seeing that they even have fruit to steal at all. similarly, the bat would pick on the weaker girls in her gang, and steal their hard-earned grief seeds under the pretense that it was "payment" for everything that she'd done for them to keep them safe.

more generally, for monzenbashi as a whole -- despite picking on each other and stealing food and sometimes routinely starting fights, flying foxes are still very social and need to have each other around. even the bats who are picked on routinely will, if separated, eagerly want to rejoin the rest of their colony as soon as they can. weaker bats will be desperate to come back to the rest and to not be left alone, even if returning to the colony means that the stronger bats will still pick on them. to the girls in it, monzenbashi was hell, but it meant protection from the whatever the hell was going on with tora and ryuu, even if that "protection" was sometimes dubious and more trouble than it was worth.

ranka -- common vampire bat (Desmodus rotundus). another bat, to match with the bat of monzenbashi herself, but also because it just works so well. common vampire bats are an excruciatingly social species -- one of, if not the most social of all bat species, when bats are already so incredibly social on their own. vampire bats rely on their fellow colony members to survive and will die without them. they must eat every single evening, or else they die. if a bat cannot go out to eat, or simply can't get its own food that night, it must resort to begging other bats, who could go out that night, to feed it, so that it doesn't die on its own. not relying on another, more capable bat spells death in vampire bat colonies, just like how ranka would cling to another, stronger bat that would keep her alive, because who knows what would happen to her if she didn't.

sakuya -- greyhound. the fastest dog breed, and bred nowadays almost exclusively for racing on tracks. they're thin and lean, but also very muscular, with especially powerful -- but also especially lanky -- hind legs. sakuya's cropped hoodie, also, feels reminiscent of the short vests that greyhounds will wear when running for quick and easy identification.

[zanniscaramouche]

The Devil's Backbone - Snippet

uuh... I've been really lacking on keeping track of these tags, I am so sorry. I can't even remember the last time I posted a snippet and who tagged me for it, but (i think) I've been tagged semi-recently (the last uuh 6 months? I could be wrong on these tho) by @ladyaj-13 @allwaswell16 @justanothershadeofblue @lululawrence Here is a snippet from my upcoming fic for @1daboficfest which a western a/b/o take on 3:10 to Uma (which I've never actually seen so that's fun!) I am really enjoying writing this one and have completely fallen in love with Louis's horse, Josephine. She is probably my fave OC I've ever written. Be on the lookout for more of this fic to come!

“Say, Tomlinson,” Styles calls from his spot flat on his ass in the dirt, his hands tied to his ankles. “How’s an omega get to ownin’ a horse anyhow?” 

Louis spares Josie a glance where she’s grazing on the tough short grasses of the plains. Her ears flick like she knows they’re talking about her, or maybe a fly just got too close. 

As with all else Styles has said this evening, he doesn’t bother to respond. 

“Now she’s a bit smaller than my fellow, though I always did have a liking for palomino. Sunny’s chestnut ‘s as dark as it goes before black.” 

Louis works over that sentence despite his attempts not to allow distraction as he stirs the small pot of stew on the fire. His brow creases the more he thinks on it. 

“You named a chestnut stallion Sunny?” 

Louis curses himself for breaking his silence when Styles’ face alights at the sound of his voice. Styles sits as casually as a free man, the smile on his face easy as he winks Louis' way. “He doesn’t seem to mind none.” 

Would love to know what everyone is working on!? @larry-hiatus @alwaysxlarrie @paranormalbabydoll @hellolovers13 @cyantific @skipperxao3 @local-troubled-writer @imogenleefic @onlythebravest @louandhazaf @kingsofeverything @beelou @lululawrence @panye @quelsentiment @justanothershadeofblue @disgruntledkittenface

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

Day 10 of No One Except @mr-orion Asked November (NoOneExOriAskNov).

I bid you welcome to the Land of the Sunrise, one of the four major continents of the World of Four Horizons! It is located near the Ocean of the First Horizon, from which the sun rises every morning. Just a sketch map for now, but I’ll clean it up later. My first map in a couple seasons, and it’s for my fanfic worldbuilding project…

Below the cut is all my lengthy worldbuilding nonsense.

Here is a list of the nations, their rulers, their biomes, and their general appearances, in alphabetical order, that call this continent home.

- Climbing Spires is located in the southern red desert, its buildings of sturdy metal and built into the sides of buttes and mesas. Cub Fan Voidstars, a half-vex exile, rules as Sovereign of the Red Rock Crown, over humans, vulture-folk, camel-folk, and thinking husks.

- Dragon’s Spine is located on the largest and only true mountain range of the continent, its buildings being mostly sturdy castles that fly purple banners. Commander X, an enigma in armor, rules as the first Wearer of the Dragon Crown in ten generations, over a sparse population of humans, goat-folk and free iceologers.

- The Drained Lands are the only unclaimed territory of the continent, so desolate and dangerous are they. It used to be the home of the nation of Geyser Heights, a place of fish-folk that once ruled the entirety of the Lapis Sea. The only known survivor of the Evaporation Disaster is XB, a wandering dolphin-folk messenger.

- Elsewhere is located in the western savanna, its buildings being a strange amalgamation of countless architectural styles. Joe Hills, a completely normal human, rules as the first and only occupant of the Other Throne, over seemingly every sort of people imaginable.

- Evergreen is located in the western hilly taiga, its buildings whimsical and elegant, from grand castles to tall bridges to quaint villages in dark wood and green. Gemini Taylor, a deer-like fae, rules as the Queen of the Crown of Needles, over fox-folk, wolf-folk, humans, and other cold-weather faeries.

- Great Acacia is located in the southern windswept savanna, its buildings sprawling, colorful, and almost all parts of massive temple complexes dedicated to the Acacia divinities. Pearl Moon, a llama-folk, rules from the High Priestess’ Throne of Histories, over other llama-folk, horse-folk, meerkat-folk, ostrich-folk, and humans.

- Iceberg Metropolis is located in the northernmost lake, a place cold enough to have its own icebergs, its buildings modern, pale, and sleek. Keralis is the current Mayor of the Blue Ice Crown, with another wolf-folk, Iskall, as his vice; the two administer a population of more wolf-folk, goat-folk, humans, and a few iceologers.

- The Labyrinth is located in the southern jungle, its buildings swooping, golden, and intricate. Impulse Esvee, a wild ocelot, rules as the Emperor of the Emerald throne over other ocelots, cat-folk, humans, panda-folk, and bat-folk.

- Livingstone is located in the western hills and forests, its buildings ruins of a long-lost nation retaken by nature. Bee Double Oh, an insectoid fae, rules from the Moss Throne as lord of horse-folk, fae, humans, and a few spider-folk.

- The Maw is located in the formidable ice spike biome north of the Lapis Sea, its subterranean buildings harsh, practical, and made of stone. A Doctor Mk-77, whose species is not known, leads this underground world with the Deepfang Crown on his head, alongside strange thinking zombies, skeletons, spider-folk, and humans.

- The Neverglades is located in the cold northern swamp, its buildings craggy and foreboding in black. Tango Tek, a third stray, a third blaze, and a third human, rules from the Basalt Throne over thinking drowned, skeletons, witches, humans, and a few hoglins that managed to stave off zombification.

- Permafrost Springs is located in the eastern snowy plains and half-frozen lake, its buildings stately and columned in white and blue. Cleo, a rather long unlived zombie, now sits on the Everfrost Throne, and rules great ranks of humans, thinking zombies, iceologers, and goat-folk.

- Sunset Coast is located along the edge and into the shallows of the south Lapis Sea, its buildings gilded and reaching for the sky in copper and browns. Grian Sunset, or Virida, depending on who you ask, is the parrot-folk Sitter of the Dusk Throne, the first ruler of this young nation of other parrot-folk, a few humans, and a couple panda-folk from across the sea.

- The Tangle is located in the southern mangrove swamp, what few buildings it has being converted fragments of giant, ancient machines. Ren Dog, a name taken in pride and in shame, is the first and only Lord of the Vine Crown, commanding a small population of wolf-folk, drowned, and humans that are willing to follow such an exile.

- Technicolor City is located in the eastern plains and forests, its sprawling buildings painted in bright colors and standing in cheery ranks. Scar Timely Good, half vex and half elf, wears the hat-like Crown of Colors, and happily rules a motley population of humans and animal-folk of all kinds.

- Umbra is located in the central dark roofed forest, its hidden buildings polished and strangely lifelike in the shadows of the trees. False Symmetry, an unknown sort of dark fae, sits on the Darkwood Throne, and rules odd humans, fox-folk, bat-folk, and fae.

There are three other major continents, one for each cardinal direction. In the west, there is the Land of the Sunset, where the Empires rule the land. In the north, the Land of the Equinox, and in the south, the Land of the Solstice, are… nonexistent. For now.

[all-the-things-2020]

No Better Place - Chapter 5

Summary: Javi and Cassidy go for a ride.

Word count: 1700+

“Bored yet?”

Javi opened his eyes. He’d been leaning back in his lawn chair, arms crossed, but definitely not napping. “Just communing with Buster,” he said. “He gets me, don’t you, buddy?” The gelding, who had been dozing off, simply swished his tail at a particularly annoying fly and flicked an ear when he heard his name.

Cassidy laughed. “Yeah, you have so much in common,” she said. “You’re both lazy, good for nothing, free loaders.”

Javi sat up. “Hey! I’m doing this as a favor to you,” he said. “And I brought the beer last week.”

“One lousy six pack,” she scoffed.

“It was the good shit,” Javi shot back. “Not that cheap crap you buy.” In the weeks since he’d started coming over to socialize Buster, they’d fallen into a friendly banter, ending most days with a cold beer in the barn or on her back porch.

“Well, I have a mortgage to pay,” Cassidy replied. “I’m not living rent free in my dad’s house.”

Javi shook his head and flipped her the bird. She’d hit a bit too close to the bone with that last remark. Chucho had made it clear that Javi could stay as long as he liked, but he still felt like he was imposing.

“Get off your lazy ass and come for a ride with me,” Cassidy said. “I need to get some miles on Dawson before I can start advertising him for sale, but I also need to get Cricket out before she gets too fat.”

“I’m not much of a rider,” Javi protested. It was true. He knew how to ride, of course. His dad had insisted on it, but it had been years since he’d ridden more than just to get from point A to point B on the ranch, and then only if he couldn’t easily drive one of the trucks.

“I’ll put you on Cricket,” Cassidy said. “She’s my babysitter horse. I’ve put little kids on her. I think you’ll be okay.”

“Oh, I know how to ride well enough,” Javi said. “I meant I’m not used to riding for a long time.”

“Afraid you’ll hurt your ass?”

“Afraid I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” Javi admitted. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“You’re not that old,” Cassidy said. “But you are out of shape.” She reached down and poked his stomach. “Less beer and whiskey, more exercise. And stop smoking those cancer sticks.”

Javi batted her hand away. “Don’t touch me,” he grumbled.

“Just get up and help me saddle the horses,” she said. Javi took a moment to admire the view as she walked away before he levered himself up out of the chair. He followed her into the barn and into the tack room at the end.

He whistled in admiration. “Nice collection,” he said. There were close to a dozen saddles placed neatly on racks on the far wall. The wall opposite had pegs which held bridles and halters and other bits of tack.

“Yeah, I like to have options,” Cassidy said. She ran her hand over the seat of a glossy black English style saddle. ��Western, jumping, dressage … I used to have a sidesaddle, too, but I got a great offer to sell it to a historical reenactor.” She pulled a plain trail saddle off one of the racks and nodded to another one a few spaces over. “Grab that and follow me.”

They worked silently, except for a few quiet instructions from Cassidy, brushing the horses off and tacking them up. Dawson was a nondescript bay gelding with no white markings at all. He fidgeted as Cassidy worked with him. Cricket, on the other hand, was a pretty little buckskin mare with a white stripe down her face and impeccable ground manners.

“I’m serious about you riding Cricket,” Cassidy said as she checked the girths on both saddles. “She’s got that nice, easy jog. Dawson’s a real bone shaker. Your backside will thank me.”

“Glad to know you think about my backside so much,” Javi said. “I’m flattered.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” she replied, as she swung gracefully into the saddle on Dawson’s back.

Javi chuckled and hoisted himself onto Cricket’s back. Cassidy led the way past the riding arena and to the beginnings of a trail that led out into the brush. She sat easily in the saddle, swaying with the horse’s movements. Javi tried to relax and imitate her, but it was hard to strike the right balance between following the horse and staying in control.

************************************

Cassidy turned in the saddle to check on Javi. “Jesus Christ, man, relax,” she laughed. “Give her a loose rein and sit back on the cantle. She won’t bolt on you. Trust her. Cricket’s a good girl.”

She was sure Javi had narrowed his eyes behind his ubiquitous aviator sunglasses. She kept hoping he’d lose them somewhere; they reminded her of that cheesy show about the California highway patrol officers from the 70’s.

“Last time I trusted a horse, he took me through a barbed wire fence and dumped me in a patch of cactus,” Javi grumbled. “I like to be in control of my horse.” He lifted his chin at her in accusation. It was true that she was sitting halfway round in her saddle, one foot out of the stirrup, with the reins looped loosely around the saddle horn.

“I’m still in control,” she retorted. “I just don’t have to rule with an iron hand.” She shifted her weight, cueing Dawson to stop, and he did. Javi pulled back on Cricket’s reins to keep her from walking into Dawson’s butt. “See!” Cassidy cried. “Right there. You hauled on her mouth. All she needs is for you to sit back in the saddle, drop your weight, open your legs a little.” She held up her hand to forestall the snide comment she knew he was dying to make. “Yeah, I heard it. But it’s true. You don’t need to be yanking on the reins. I don’t cowboy my horses, and I don’t charro my horses. Got it?” Dawson shifted nervously beneath her. She hadn’t meant to raise her voice, but damn, men were such asses sometimes when it came to horses.

Javi nodded. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to be gentler,” he said. “But in my defense, my dad’s horses aren’t as well trained as this little lady.” He leaned forward to smooth down a section of Cricket’s mane that had flipped the wrong way, and Cassidy saw that he could be gentle if he wanted to be. She also wondered what it would feel like to have that hand smooth her own hair away from her neck and … she shook her head. Focus, Cass, focus!

“All right, as long as we’re on the same page,” she said. “Come on, let’s ride.” She nudged Dawson into a walk and then a trot. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Javi he was a bone shaker. It was nearly impossible to sit his trot, so she posted as best she could. She did take a glance back and saw that Javi was bouncing around in the saddle a bit, even with Cricket’s smooth Quarter Horse jog.

She slowed to a walk when they reached a wide, open section of grassland where the well defined trail they’d been following broke into a braid of tracks. “Bring her up alongside,” she said. “I want Dawson to get used to being next to other horses, not always single file.”

Javi let Cricket stride out until they had caught up. Dawson immediately pinned his ears. “Hey, hey, none of that,” Cassidy chided him, taking a firmer grip on the reins. Cricket snorted and shook her head as if to say, Amateur.

They rode in silence for a while, no sound but the creaking of saddle leather, the jingling of bits, the thud of hooves, and the occasional snort as the horses blew dust from their noses. “This is the life,” Cassidy said eventually. She dropped the reins and leaned back to rest her hands on Dawson’s rump. “I could do this forever.”

Javi looked over at her, and she felt his eyes travel the length of her body. “I could watch it forever,” he said.

“You’re disgusting,” she said, sitting back up properly. “But you don’t look so bad yourself, when you’re not trying to be all macho and in control.” She ran her own eyes over him, his long legs hanging loosely along Cricket’s sides, his hips moving gently with her strides, his huge hands lightly holding the leather reins. Yeah, he looked damned good.

Javi shrugged. “Okay, so we agree we both look hot in the saddle,” he said. “Can we head back now before I get a callus on my ass the size of Dallas?”

Cassidy laughed. “Oh, we’re just getting started, Mr. Pena,” she said. “Giddy up!” She tapped her heels against Dawson’s sides, urging him into a canter. Cricket didn’t need any encouragement to join in; she loved to run.

“Hey!” Javi yelped as Cricket lowered her head and lit out after Cassidy. “I wasn’t ready!”

“You snooze, you lose!” Cassidy cried. “Yee haw!” She leaned forward and urged Dawson into a full on gallop. She heard Javi cursing behind her and knew that Cricket had kicked into overdrive. She was a sweet mare but had a competitive streak that would put a racehorse to shame. No one outran her. In just a few strides, she’d caught Dawson and was pulling ahead. She flicked an ear at Javi but kept going. Cassidy laughed. “That’s my girl. Show him who’s boss!”

As soon as she’d put a length or two between them, Cricket slowed her stride. Cassidy reined Dawson back into a canter, then to a trot, and finally a walk. He was blowing hard, but Cricket looked ready to go again.

“Damn, that was insane,” Javi said once the two horse were walking side by side again.

“Never underestimate a woman,” Cassidy said. “Human or equine.”

Javi smiled, something she rarely got to see. “Point taken,” he said. “Now, seriously, can we go home now? My ass is killing me.”

[mogwai-movie-house]

A Film A Year

Going through an old hard drive today I found this almost-completed list from 2015 in which I'd set myself the task of choosing a single film for each year of the preceding hundred. It was interesting to see in what ways my tastes had changed and just how many more films I'd discovered and fallen in love with in the meantime.

Anyways, I thought I'd finish it off and update it to the present: I very much tried to keep it to just one film per year, but the competition some years was just too high so they've had to share joint first places:

1915 A Night In The Show 1916 The Vagabond 1917 Easy Street 1918 A Dog's Life 1919 Sunnyside 1920 One Week 1921 The Kid 1922 Dr Mabuse, The Gambler 1923 Safety Last / Why Worry? 1924 Sherlock Jr / The Last Laugh 1925 The Gold Rush 1926 The General 1927 Sunrise / Seventh Heaven 1928 The Last Command / Steamboat Jr. / The Man Who Laughs / The Passion of Joan of Arc 1929 The Love Parade / Un Chien Andalou / Lucky Star 1930 All Quiet On The Western Front 1931 City Lights/ The Smiling Lieutenant 1932 Horse Feathers / Love Me Tonight 1933 Duck Soup / The Invisible Man 1934 It Happened One Night 1935 The 39 Steps 1936 My Man Godfrey 1937 Nothing Sacred 1938 Adventures Of Robin Hood / Pygmalion 1939 The Cat And The Canary / The Wizard of Oz / The Hunchback of Notre Dame 1940 His Girl Friday / Pinocchio 1941 Citizen Kane / The Maltese Falcon / Dumbo / Sullivan's Travels 1942 Casablanca 1943 Le Corbeau 1944 Arsenic & Old Lace 1945 Les Enfants du Paradis / And Then There Were None 1946 A Matter of Life and Death 1947 Black Narcissus 1948 The Treasure of the Sierra Madre 1949 The Third Man / Kind Hearts & Coronets 1950 Sunset Blvd. / La Ronde 1951 A Streetcar Named Desire 1952 Singin' In The Rain / Le Plaisir 1953 Calamity Jane 1954 Hobson's Choice 1955 The Night Of The Hunter /The Ladykillers 1956 The Searchers 1957 The Seventh Seal 1958 Vertigo 1959 North By Northwest / Ballad of A Soldier 1960 Psycho / The Virgin Spring / Two Women 1961 Breakfast At Tiffanys 1962 Le Doulos 1963 The Great Escape / The Birds 1964 Onibaba 1965 For A Few Dollars More 1966 Blow Up 1967 Le Samourai / Cool Hand Luke 1968 2001: A Space Odyssey 1969 Butch Cassidy & The Sundance Kid 1970 Le Cercle Rouge 1971 Get Carter / Harold & Maude 1972 The Godfather 1973 Don't Look Now 1974 The Godfather Part II / Chinatown 1975 Jaws / The Rocky Horror Picture Show 1976 Network 1977 Star Wars / Annie Hall 1978 Halloween / Superman 1979 Apocalypse Now / Alien / Life Of Brian / Manhattan 1980 Stardust Memories / Raging Bull 1981 Raiders Of The Lost Ark 1982 Blade Runner / The Thing 1983 The Dead Zone / Zelig 1984 Ghostbusters / The Terminator / Blood Simple 1985 Back To The Future 1986 Hannah & Her Sisters / The Fly 1987 Withnail & I / Wings of Desire 1988 Dangerous Liaisons 1989 Crimes & Misdemeanors / Dead Poets Society 1990 Goodfellas 1991 The Silence of The Lambs / Terminator 2 1992 Reservoir Dogs / The Player 1993 Schindler's List / Groundhog Day 1994 Pulp Fiction 1995 Se7en / Casino / The Usual Suspects 1996 Fargo 1997 LA Confidential / Grosse Point Blank / Boogie Nights 1998 The Truman Show / Happiness / Buffalo '66 1999 American Beauty / Magnolia / Being John Malkovich / Fight Club 2000 Memento 2001 Mulholland Drive / The Royal Tennenbaums / The Piano Teacher 2002 Adaptation / The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers 2003 Lost In Translation 2004 Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind / The Life Aquatic 2005 Me & You & Everyone We Know 2006 The Prestige / Perfume 2007 No Country For Old Men / There Will Be Blood 2008 The Dark Knight / Let The Right One In / Tropic Thunder 2009 Cold Souls / Up / Zombieland 2010 I Saw The Devil / The Ghost Writer 2011 The Hidden Face 2012 The Avengers 2013 Her 2014 The Grand Budapest Hotel / The Winter Soldier 2015 The Survivalist / The Lobster 2016 Like Crazy 2017 Coco 2018 Deadpool 2 2019 The Irishman 2020 Kajillionaire 2021 The French Dispatch 2022 The Banshees of Inisherin

[horrormoviemonstermakeout]

MONSTER RATING: Jean Jacket (Nope)

Nope (2022) is the third movie from writer and director Jordan Peele, and the inaugural review of this blog because I cannot stop thinking about this movie. It’s a horror movie. It’s a western. It’s about the cruel, dehumanization of spectacle. It’s about the erasure of black voices in Hollywood. It’s about what it means to really see something for what it is. There’s so much to even think about, it’s so dense and laden with ideas that you could probably write a thesis paper about it.

The plot boils down to this: OJ Haywood (Daniel Kaluuya) runs a horse ranch and rental service for film sets out in the Californian desert, with help from his sister Emerald “Em” Haywood (Keke Palmer). After the unusual death of their father (Keith David) by way of a coin falling from the sky and piercing his brain, the ranch is beset by money troubles and OJ is forced to sell many of his horses to the theme park next door, run by former child star Ricky “Jupe” Park (Steven Yeun), who is currently commercializing the tragic massacre of “Gordy’s Home,” in which a frenzied chimpanzee killed two of the cast members and disfigured one of them, for fame and profit.

Things start getting weird when an unidentified flying object - which the Haywoods later name Jean Jacket after Em’s horse - begins appearing around the ranch, abducting their horses and causing all electronic equipment to fail around it. We later discover this UFO is actually a giant, living organism that had been lured into the area by Jupe in hopes of taming it and turning it into an attraction for his theme park. This inevitably gets him, his entire family, and most of the park staff and guests eaten and digested by Jean Jacket.

The Haywoods, along with the eccentric electronic store employee Angel Torres (Brandon Perea) and the film director Antlers Holst (Michael Wincott), begin planning a way to get photographic evidence of this creature so that the nightmare will end and their ranch will be saved from money troubles.

That plot synopsis covers the jist of what occurs but, in all honesty, feels like it only scratches the surface of what is really occurring. Take the Gordy’s Home incident for example, what I would consider one of the thematic throughlines of the entire film. So thematically central, in fact, that the movie starts on the scene of a bloodied chimpanzee among the corpses of its co-stars. Actually, the movie starts with a Bible quote, Nahum 3:6 - “I will cast abominable filth upon you, make you vile, and make you a spectacle,” which I feel sums up one of its major themes and ties back again to the massacre; the inherent dehumanization of spectacle.

Jupe, at that point a child actor, is the only actor that manages to survive unscathed from the incident. When we first get introduced to Jupe, we see his room filled with memorabilia from the show, as well as numerous references to the massacre which he plays off with jokes. He’s clearly traumatized from the incident, and yet he charges people to come into this room and gawk at what happened. For fame, money, or just to suppress his trauma, he allows himself to become spectacle and lets himself be dehumanized by the people who laugh at his trauma.

And it is this desire for spectacle that gets him killed by Jean Jacket. Jean Jacket is the ultimate unknown, a bewildering, fantastical creature that Jupe knows will wow his audience. However, Jean Jacket refuses to be a spectacle. As OJ learns, the thing that most enrages the flying saucer is direct eye contact. If you look into it, you will die. It’s ironic, Jean Jacket is the most spectacular creature in this movie, central to so many horrific but extraordinary sights, but no, you cannot look at them. You will not dehumanize this creature. The only time it gets its photo taken, the only time the public finally sees it, is when it dies. It will cast an abominable spectacle upon you, but the moment eyes are set on it, it will die. The same way Gordy was turned into spectacle, both on the show and when it went on a rampage, before being killed by the police. You cannot look directly at it.

I have to go on to rate this monster but you can see what I mean when I say I can’t stop thinking about this movie right? Jean Jacket as a monster represents so many things and if I went into each and every thing the review would be ten pages long. I insist, watch this movie, you won’t regret it.

- MONSTER RATING - JEAN JACKET -

CREEPINESS: 9/10 - Genuinely, it is rare for a movie to get me this fucking tense while watching it. So many things about Jean Jacket just elicit pure fight-or-flight instinct from me as it depicts some of the most horrifyingly ingenious ways to create a terrifying monster.

Where to begin? The fact that we constantly hear it screaming, and that we later find out that the screaming is not actually coming from it but from the people trapped inside begging to be released? The fact that it’s the size of several school buses, a kaiju in its own right, but travels completely silently, hiding itself behind clouds? The way its disruptive electromagnetic field shuts down all electronic equipment, plunging the area into an extremely tense silence, only to be broken by its echoing clicks and moans?

Jean Jacket makes you feel unsafe. The movie effectively conveys how this creature is a predator, silently stalking behind clouds so that it can pounce on you the moment you’re disarmed. The vore scene, which I will discuss later, drills into your head the mortifying fate which is set out for you the moment you are captured - you will be eaten, and digested alive. Jean Jacket reduces you to prey; insignificant prey, like a mouse completely unaware of the eagle that has already set its sights on it a mile in the sky. You were already dead the moment you stepped into its territory.

I’ve never felt more terrified for the fate of the characters, I nearly screamed when Angel was almost consumed by Jean Jacket. Jordan and the animation team behind Jean Jacket deserve phenomenal praise, this is by far one of the more horrifying movie monsters ever thought up. I’ve seen posts discuss how, after seeing the movie, they’re suddenly afraid to stand underneath the sky. Do you understand how terrifying something has to be in order to make someone scared of the fucking sky? What a wonderful monster, I love it to bits.

WETNESS: 8/10 - We need to talk about the vore scene. The brief thirty second moment in which we see all the park attendees travel through Jean Jacket’s digestive system. The claustrophobic space in which we see the innocent park goers - men, women, and children all - become trapped inside its intestines as its guts pulsate, sending them further and further inside. Wailing, crying, retching and vomiting echo throughout as Jupe’s wife bumps up against the viscous, partially digested remains of a horse, and screams. None of these people make it out alive, they die in one of the cruelest ways imaginable.

I need you to understand something: I’ve always said that being digested would be the most horrifying way to die. Trapped inside this dark, fleshy pocket with absolutely no means of escape, no way to survive. To be slowly eaten away painfully by digestive enzymes as you scream in futility, knowing that you will die this way. This scene warped my face into sheer abject terror and it is absolutely fucking killer. The phenomenal sound design comes out in full force again as you hear every squelch and throbbing of Jean Jacket’s intestines, and the horrified screams of all the park attendees. You can practically feel yourself getting drenched in foul smelling intestinal fluid and stomach acid; the stench of vomit and rotting partially-digested flesh violating your nostrils.

Let’s not forget the scene in which Jean Jacket torments the Haywood ranch by vomiting the hundreds of gallons of park goer blood all over the house. You can see it traveling down the window panes, this viscous, almost congealed red goop of viscera and intestinal bile. These scenes are one of many that made the movie, and this goes without saying: extremely wet! We’re just a little ways away from perfect wetness as I do not believe the exterior of Jean Jacket is all that wet, in fact I would think it would be not too dissimilar from shark’s skin - coarse and rough, perhaps a bit rubbery. But make no mistake - when Jean Jacket eats you, you will know wetness.

DATEABILITY: 2/10 - Listen, I could talk about the insane head Jean Jacket could give you, I am painfully aware of the powerful suction force behind that mouth. I am also aware of how gorgeous its final form is, its dress could make anyone at the Met Gala jealous. Good for a one night stand but I’m here to talk about its compatibility as a romantic partner, and I doubt the relationship could go far with most people.

Let’s talk about the biggest deal breaker: the lack of eye contact. Sure, this is not an insurmountable hurdle, I’m sure the charismatic among you could woo a monster without making eye contact. However, responding to eye contact with horrific consumption and digestion feels like taking things a little too far. Jean Jacket has a lot of boundaries that need to be respected, and you should be ready for the consequences should you break them even once. To some, that’s already way too much baggage to deal with, but let’s say you do successfully manage to get with this flying cephalopod, what then?

I hope you like sitting and waiting, because this creature is an ambush predator, and spends most of its free time hiding inside a cloud digesting its food. Hobbies, interests? Throw them out the window, the only thing Jean Jacket needs in its life is a horse to eat. You might feel a lot of distance between you and the UFO, not only does it communicate very infrequently, but you might feel left behind when it travels into the upper atmosphere to hunt an exploitative theme park owner. Let’s just say that a relationship with this monster would not be a very rewarding one, and as beautiful as this beast is, I would suggest finding someone that doesn’t put so much distance between you two.

FINAL RATING: TOO PRETTY FOR PICTURE / 10

[saphira5]

David x Lycan Reader Part 4

Y/n arrived back home to see the rotting bodies of y/n friends and packmates. Y/n buried your packmates and friends in the middle of the castle.

Once y/n had buried your friends, y/n waged war against Viktor.

Y/n had killed him and most of his Coven, those who survived fled and made their own Covens. Y/n had found Lycans were slaves to Viktor, y/n released the Lycan prisoners, they have spread across the globe killing many vampires.  

Y/n got up from the throne and headed to the graves of your friends.  

Y/n walks through a stone arch, y/n then follows the old stone path to y/n friend graves. Y/n had planted a bunch of different colored flowers near your friend's grave. Behind their graves y/n had put a gray fountain, white roses surrounded the fountain. Soon the white roses begin to ascend on the fountain. Over time the roses had hidden the fountain. 

 Y/n misses them so much, y/n bent down, you placed your hand on each grave. Y/n then stands up and you head to the library. You open the big wooden door, y/n walks inside and goes to the end of the library. A huge table lies in front of the window, a huge portrait of y/n and your friends hangs above. Y/n had a painter paint y/n and your friends on horses and wearing armor.  

Everyone was smiling in the picture. 

 Y/n pulls out a chair and you look outside, y/n hears thunder in the distance. The once clear sky had turned dark. You then see heavy rain coming y/n way, the rain began hitting the windows. Y/n gets up and heads to your room, you couldn't believe y/n would ever be back here.

A couple of days after the death of Viktor, y/n had locked down the castle and y/n moved from place to place, when y/n finally settled in Western Europe.  

Y/n had walked past many doors and staircases going up and down until y/n had stopped in front of a black metal door. Y/n opens it, and you step inside, y/n sees the fireplace on the left. Above the fireplace is a huge flag, y/n had made a pack flag. A huge black wolf barring fangs, with the word wulf under it. Y/n and your pack have lived more like wolves than humans.  

A huge bed lies near the right wall, and in the far back a huge window is covered by a dark red curtain. Y/n walks to the curtain and pushes it aside, then something had grab y/n by the throat. You went through the glass, y/n sees Marcus Corvinus, his huge pale grey wings flapping silently. 

 His body is also pale grey, Marcus brings your neck close to his mouth. He bites you and drinks you blood, Marcus then gets shot rapidly. 

 He let's go of y/n; you fall to the ground. Y/n makes a huge dent in the ground, y/n gets up and sees David, Selene, Micheal and Eve, also the elders Amelia and Thomas, some members of the Eastern Coven. Marcus lands in front of you, he transforms back into a person. 

 Marcus smiles at you. "I cannot believe it is true, my brother had a child". 

 "A bastard child", y/n says, you then tackle Marcus, you bite him in the neck. He pushes y/n off, Marcus stands up and holds his neck. Marcus looks at y/n with anger in his eyes, y/n does the same, you swallow his flesh. Y/n sticks your tongue out and licks the blood off your lips. 

 Marcus shifts and begins flying, y/n watches him fly towards the lowering moon.  

Y/n then looks at the vampire's, Micheal and Eve. "YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE", the ground beneath y/n begins moving. Pale white Grey hounds emerge from the ground, they begin running toward the vampires and Micheal and Eve. The Grey hounds circle the group, then they attack. 

 A Grey hound drags a vampire to the castle gate, David fights off the grey hound and begins walking towards you. But the grey hound grabs his leg, tripping him. David falls to the ground; the grey hound drags him to the entrance; he looks at y/n. "I wanted to apologies", y/n turns and begins walking into the castle.  

You walk up to y/n room, you look through y/n broken window and see everyone gathered outside. The Grey hounds are in front of the entrance growling and barking at the Vampires and Lycan-vampire hybrids. 

Part 5! coming 9/13/23

[jedimaesteryoda]

An Ode to Dark Horse Star Wars Clone Wars Graphic Novels

For May 4th, I’m going to talk about what I think doesn’t get enough attention, the Dark Horse Clone Wars graphic novels that came after Episode II Attack of the Clones. I always held a special affection for them. 

There is plenty of action with Jedi wielding lightsabers and flipping during battle as well as giant monstrous creatures and clones fighting droids. However, what made them stand out for me after over a decade is the depth. 

War

It followed characters like Jedi and clones on the front lines as they fought the war against the Separatists and their droid armies to politicians in Coruscant. The storylines could range from adventure to darker tone storylines. The storylines could get dark, and while I’m not in the camp that “darker=better” given Snyder disproved that with Man of Steel. The darker tone fit with the subject matter: war. 

“The Last Stand of Jabiim” is a perfect example as it feels quite akin to All Quiet on the Western Front. The terrain is muddy with it always raining, no glimpse of victory in sight and at the end there is an assault on the trenches where the Republic forces are slaughtered. The only advantage the Republic forces have is in their vehicles with help from loyalists lead by Gillmun, and they suffer many losses that ends in a final assault on their base where the only Jedi character left standing is Anakin after all the young Padawans are killed off. He finds they only one transport offworld left and they need to leave within an hour. Anakin makes the hard choice of a triage where he can’t take the Jabiim loyalists, basically leaving them on Jabiim. Gillmun understandably doesn’t take this well threatening to commandeer the vessels. You understand where both men are coming from, Anakin can’t leave his men behind while Gillum knows he and his men will be hunted down and captured or killed if left on Jabiim pointing out “I don’t have a home. Your war destroyed it.”

Many Jedi characters are introduced into the storyline that are killed off in the chapter (Glaive) or a few chapters later (his apprentice Zule). In “Forever Young,” Tohno is sent herself to bring victory by destroying the droid manufacturing facility in spite of Anakin’s misgivings regarding her youth. He tries to fly a gunship in a mad attempt to rescue her when she is in trouble, only for her to sacrifice herself to destroy the facility with Anakin stating the accomplished mission didn’t feel like a success. In “Blast Radius,” Obi-wan teams up with four other Jedi on Queyta to retrieve the antidote to their chemical weapon. All four of his companions end up dying there with a dying Master Fey giving the last of her strength to Obi-wan so he can escape. 

Jedi question the war with Master K’Kruk in “Schism” questioning the ethics of using clones as soldiers, recognizing their humanity and feeling it goes against the Jedi teachings :

“As a Jedi I was taught to preserve life. I led these clones--no, these men--to their deaths. These were living, sentient beings. What I have been asked to do is the opposite of everything I was trained as a Jedi.”

Other Jedi like Jeisel question whether the war is worth fighting with the Republic having strayed so far from its ideals and become corrupt, and even Grand Master Yoda in storyline “Yoda” that plays out like a Shakespearean tragedy, asks whether the war is worth the costs. 

The costs are not confined to the combatants either, but civilians pay a price as well. An entire planet, Parcellus Minor, is set ablaze by CIS gunships. The entire population of a colony of Gungans on a moon Ohma-D’un are gassed. On Gentes, Ugnaughts in a captured city are enslaved and then massacred by CIS forces. 

We also see beyond the black and white view of Republic vs Confederacy with Separatists who have legitimate complaints. The people of Jabiim mentioned the Republic’s lack of support when they suffered invasions, pirates and plague. King Alaric of Thustra sought out Dooku to join the CIS having become disturbed over the corruption in the Galactic Republic government with his nephew having become corrupted.

However, we also see acts of heroism like all the Padawans on Jabiim making a last stand so the rest of their forces can evacuate at the cost of their lives. Kybo and other Jedi go to kill General Grievous to avenge his master in spite of the council’s wishes, but later fight him so the captured Padawans can escape. 

Politics

In “Dead Ends,” we follow Bail Organa as he deals with politics in Palpatine’s Senate, trying to keep the ship aright during a tumultuous time when the Senate is sacrificing some of its tenets in the name of security. To give John Ostrander credit, he captures the gist of Palpatine’s character.

Bail Organa comes to confront Palpatine about info regarding Jabiim (a battle which was lost) being restricted and the Enhanced Security and Enforcement Act, which by it’s description sounds very Patriot Act-esque. Palpatine dismisses the former, and for the latter, says the Senators insisted the bill be brought forward like he was a helpless bystrander, and assures him the like his other emergency powers, they would end with the war. Bail stands his ground and insists he will oppose the measure to which Palpatine replies: “You must of course, do as you think best. Might I give you a small warning? It would not be wise for you to see Finis Valorum again. Dirt rubs off so easily, and can tarnish those who would otherwise seem clean.”

Palpatine’s subtlety is on display cloaking his iron fist in a velvet glove as he “kindly and gently” threatened Bail. When the Enhanced Security and Enforcement Act is brought forth, Palpatine’s publicly responds: 

“My friends, I do not seek more responsibility to rest on my shoulders. You have already invested too much upon me as it is. However, if it is the will of this august body that, for the safety of the Republic, I assume this mantle as well, I will defer to you wishes.” 

Ostrander perfectly captures how Palpatine amasses more power with most of the Senate asleep: he seldom requests it himself, but has others do it for him, and when he is given more power, in public he accepts it reluctantly if not grudgingly.  

Bail Organa gives an impassioned speech opposing the bill, saying it violates the core principles of the Republic and hands Senatorial powers over to Palpatine. His pleas end up going ignored. You feel for how Bail, in spite of being a Senator, an objectively powerful political figure, feels powerless in his doomed attempt to keep the Republic from turning into a dictatorship. He can only watch as the Senators make short-sighted decisions to preserve the Republic that ironically end up paving the road to its destruction. 

Characters

We got to see interactions between characters we already know like Anakin and Obi-wan. We got to see more of their relationship, and watch it develop in a way that arguably would have made Episode II better. 

Obi-wan took an Anakin as an apprentice as a promise to Qui-Gonn on his deathbed, but in his conversation with Quinlan Vos in “In Brothers in Arms,” we actually got to see his thoughts on that. He admits that he took on Anakin out of obligation, and “never really chose Anakin as my Padawan.” In the next scene,  he finally makes the decision to choose Anakin and trust him, telling Anakin that he changed his mind and will allow him to pilot a fighter in the battle adding “We need you. I need you.” 

Their relationship improves from there. After Obi-wan is thought dead, Anakin senses he is alive and needs his help. Anakin manages to track him down and they reunite. It shows the connection between the two that makes their relationship seen in Episode III much more believable when compared to Episode II.

We also got a cast of memorable new characters like Durge. 

Durge shares some similarities with the Fetts and Din in being a heavily armed bounty hunter and mercenary wearing armor equipped with a jetpack. However, his personality can be summed up in this quote from his first appearance in the graphic novels:

"You know, it's been over a century since I killed a Jedi… and today, I get to kill four of you. Add to that the Gungans I already murdered, the hostages I'm going to kill later, and all the Naboo who will die tomorrow, and it's a damn good week."

-Star Wars Republic #51, The New Face of War Part 1

While the Fetts and Din were taciturn men who didn’t waste words, speaking only when they needed to, Durge by contrast, was a big shit talker with a lot of braggadocio. He would boast, taunt and threaten during battle like a teenage boy. He tells one guy who shot him “For that, I’m going to rip off your head and carbon flush down your throat!” (or basically, “I’m going to shit down your throat”).

However, while the Fetts are the T-800, Durge was the T-1000. Being a Gen’Dai, he was superhumanly strong and fast to the point that he could keep up with Jedi with Force-sensitive reflexes. He also had a incredible regenerative ability that allowed him to recover from wounds easily. At Ohma-D’un where we meet him, he gets shot and impaled/cut with a lightsaber more than once, and even electrocuted yet still manages to keep standing and fight. At Queyta, he burned both his arms off in the lava, but he regrew them. At Maramere, Anakin used the Force to send a large number of explosives at him, but Durge still fought on. In other words, what truly made Durge scary was no matter how many times you shot him, stabbed or cut him with a lightsaber or even blew him up, he’d always keep coming back. 

That ability combined with his strength and armament made him an effective opponent against Jedi combatants. He worked especially well with his sometimes partner-in-crime: 

Asajj Ventress, the iconic Dark Jedi armed with dual red lightsabers. Asajj managed to be as credible a threat as Durge being skilled in the Force and dual lightsabers. She manages to kill many Jedi in the time we see her.

However, then we go to her homeworld of Rattatak and learn her backstory (before it was retconned by Clone Wars) in “No Man’s Land.” She was an orphan on a world of constant war until a Jedi Ky Narec acting as an emissary for the Republic, crash landed. That Jedi would go on to take her in as his apprentice, and as former warlord Osika Kirske tells: “They became something our world had never known . . . They became heroes. They ended wars and united armies.”

That is until all the other warlords banded together to destroy the two, and succeeded in killing her master. However, the devastating effect it had on Asajj resulted in her taking a dark turn. She them assembled an army, conquered Rattatak and killed or captured all who opposed her, especially those who had a role in her master’s death as the warlords of Rattatak inadvertently ended up creating their doom.

In her trophy room, she still keeps a statue of her mentor and his lightsaber. She actually sheds tears when Obi-wan escapes with her master’s old lightsaber. It goes a long way towards explaining her character. She wants to fight the Jedi Order, because she partly blames them for the death of her master. She wants to be Dooku’s apprentice, because she’s trying to fill a hole. Obi-wan recognizes this, and actually comes to sympathize with her. 

By “Obsession,” she’s getting cybernetic implants and it becomes clear as Obi-wan points out, how similar she actually is to her arch rival Anakin: a child from an arid planet in the Outer Rim found by an offworld Jedi Master who initially shows much talent and promise as Jedi, but falls to the dark side over a deep loss and even gets cybernetic implants.

Asajj Ventress, the terrifying Dark Jedi at the end of the day wasn’t born evil but a product of war. She was born onto a war-ridden world, lost every person she ever cared about to war and in the end, became a weapon of war herself. Her character was an embodiment of the rage, violence and trauma that war leaves. We never see a change in her until Obi-wan shows her the compassion she never received.

Even a clone gets to be a recurring character in the form of ARC trooper Alpha. Named A-17, he is first introduced in the Battle of Kamino. Being a modified clone without his independence taken away like the other clones, and trained by Jango Fett himself, he displays some personality compared to the other clones with Anakin first remarking hat he’s “rude for a clone” and he occasionally gets the one-liner: .  He does bond with Anakin and Obi-wan as he fights alongside them in many battles, with the former gave him the name Alpha on, and was captured with Obi-wan by Ventress as they escaped together. Alpha took Anakin’s advice to give the clones he trains nicknames, starting the trend. Alpha was originally going to be in the Clone Wars animated show, but Lucas was worried about all the alliterative names the began with “A’ and so they made the character Rex. If there was no Alpha, we wouldn’t have gotten Rex. 

There is also Quinlan Vos, an unconventional Jedi (to the point that he has a girlfriend and becomes a dad at the end) who goes deep undercover as a double agent for the Jedi Order ostensibly defecting to Dooku. He gets in too deep, and even the Jedi start questioning if he’s truly gone even as tries to straddle the edge of the abyss without falling in. 

In short, if you ever get a chance to read the Star Wars Republic comics on the Clone Wars, I recommend them. There some of Legends lore that actually holds up you get good storylines of battle, espionage and politics with loss, heroism and sacrifice.

May the Fourth Be With You!