Okay But What’s That Weird Shit On His Necklace? It Looks Like It’s A Stone But It Has Some Fur In

Damn bro 💀

obsessed w this gif i can't stop using it for everything.

Of course it’s Jack 😂

That poor man can’t catch a break from the Air Force Yaoi 💀💀

Mind Reading AU

I would love to read a story where someone from the 100th - Kidd? Crank? - acquires the ability to hear what everyone else is thinking around him. He thinks listening to Crosby's nervous internal monologue is bad, but then John and Gale walk in, and he knows he’s going to lose his mind within hours if they don’t find a solution.

And it's not because of John.

No, John pretty much says what he's thinking with barely any filter or internal struggle. But Gale... it's a constant litany of filthy-loving-needy-guilty-self-tormenting thoughts stumbling over each other. He reaches for his toothpicks with perfect poker face while imagining kissing Bucky within an inch of his life. He stands looking mildly amused at Bucky elbowing him, but his mind is like white noise from desire. Then he despairs when Bucky leaves even though nothing shows in his expression.

Hello lovely people, I’ve been working on a little cleagan project for a while and I wanted to share the first chapter, hope y’all enjoy!!! ^•^

It’s also on ao3:

•Longing for my sweetheart•

John was dying, he was shot and now he’s dying on his horse who’s independently prowls up a path on a mountain he’s not familiar with. He’s slumped over his mare’s neck mumbling to himself in and out of consciousness.

You see it was supposed to be an easy job, get the information from his trusty inside man (Rosie) at the stagecoach station, stake out the carriage with the rich folks in it, ambush the carriage take everything they got and ride into the sunset, see easy!

Maybe that’s why everything went haywire. He’d done this so many times without complications that he threw every caution in the wind. But sooner than later he realized his mistake in a form of a personal guard at the driver’s box.

He stopped the carriage without a hiccup that’s the easiest part anyways. He pulled his bandanna up his nose and his hat real low. He rode out from the trees to the dirt road, pistol in his right, double barrel shotgun in the left hand firing them once-twice raising hell.

Oh the screams, the frightened shrieks were music to his ears. They meant the passengers will give anything for their lives.

But his happiness was short lived as a bullet pierced through the air and flew past his ear. The armed guard started to fire at him like hell, earning the money the rich bastards were paying him and after today John was sure he got a fat bonus too!

He quickly got off his horse and dodged behind a boulder frowning in surprise, listening where the guard might be and the gunslinging began.

****

The driver was dead, John shot him dead in the left eye. He tried to intervene but he was just in the way and got in the field of bullets. John killed too many people to count. That’s just the way he lives. He never claimed to be a good man alright? But that doesn’t mean he enjoys killing, there was a time when he did, a long-long time ago. He left those days in the back of his mind, now he only kills when he has to, but most of his robberies claim lives, someone always ends up dead.

He’s an outlaw goddamnit, that’s what he’s good at. What he likes and what he has to do to survive are two different things.

He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on moral issues though he’s still being shot at. John thought, finally his luck is turning and he’ll win this duel as well when he started to hear shouting and hoof beating the ground in the distance.

Lawman.

Even in a location so remote someone somehow alerted the sheriff. John only had a moment to process the news before bullets started to fly around him. The situation is dire he knows that, he whistles for his horse who comes crashing out of the woods and he makes a break for it.

He’s running like the wind when he feels it. Cold metal piercing his skin needling a way through muscles and tendons in his right shoulder. The second one comes from ahead hitting him on the left side of his abdomen, but it doesn’t feel like it went all the way through, although it’s not like John can feel much with the adrenaline running through his veins.

He can’t spare too much attention to his wounds as he still has to get away if he wants to stay alive. He runs to his horse grabs the horn of his saddle, hoist himself up with the stirrup and gallops away as fast and as far as he can.

He’d never been shot, John was always clever with his moves, always had Fortuna on his side. It’s not like how he imagined, it’s not immediate red-hot pain flaming his body ablaze flooding into his mind making room saying ‘I’m here and you’ll be suffering’. It’s creeping up on him, slowly making his way into his consciousness like sand in an hourglass.

For a good ten minutes as he tries to lose the lawman glued to his heels he can only feel a dull ache. Another ten minutes pass on and he successfully shakes off the blood thirsty man and slows his horse down to a trot. And as his heartbeat stabilizes the pain starts to increase, so much so that he had to halt his horse to catch his breath.

He took a moment to get himself under wraps and inspected the wounds.

His shoulder was relatively in a good shape as much as a gunshot wound can be. But his abdomen was another tale. He unbuttoned his vest then lifted his shirt and ripped his long-johns apart, he gagged at the sight.

Already bruised in angry shades of purple and blue, blood flowing everywhere from such a tiny hole. John tried to apply pressure on it but the pain was too great, he got lightheaded and threw up that small amount of food he had in his stomach. He had to get help fast or he’s a goner.

He tried to remember if there was a town nearby but the blood loss was making him dazed and confused. Soon after that he passed out and woke up in the woods on his horse’s back then passed out again.

And that’s how he ended up in the middle of the mountain he was not familiar with in and out of consciousness.

****

John was slowly coming to himself as he feels his horse piking up speed. He tilts his head up to see a little homestead built with logs nested between tall trees and evergreens, a sight he would sure marvel if he were in a better shape. John tries to stay awake until his horse makes the distance to the porch of the home but his brain is too foggy.

He hears a gasp coming from afar and legs hitting the ground in a rapid pattern. John wants to sit up to see who his savior might be but he’s too weak and slips off his saddle onto the ground. He gets startled awake again by someone dropping to their knees next to him and brushing the hair out of his face. Cold fingers turn his head toward the sun and he opens his eyes.

The person in front of John is a woman, a woman whose face is so blurry. Blurry because John can’t keep his eyes open. But as he forces himself to focus he becomes aware that the person is in fact not a woman but a young man with such soft edges and features that he has to be unreal.

John is so delirious from the blood loss that he thinks he’s seeing one of God’s angels. Although he doesn’t understand why would he go to heaven after all the things he has done. He wants to, no scratch that ,he needs to touch this angel of death with the soft looking golden hair and smooth sun tanned skin. He knows if he could just only caress the pad of his finger down this angel’s face he could take away all of his sins and he can die in peace.

He reaches out to hold his personal angel’s cheek, but before he can touch him everything goes back to black.

Pfff Chile….. I knew I had to see him without the 😸tickler <3

And now I don’t know how to feel 💀

I thought he’s gonna look a bit more like Jake. Who’s this?! He’s still my man tho 💁🏼‍♀️❤️‍🔥💍

[Original pic credit to owner]

have a life ruiner for your evening

They’re so cute 😭

THE WAY KIRK SAID “HELLO” GET ME EVERY TIME. 😭💀

I wish bitch 🙏🏼

*ru paul voice* and say hello to our extra special guest judge, the SLAYYYvior of the broken, the beaten, and the GLAMMED, Gerard Way!

gerard:

Got a bit wine drunk, started a new clegan fic, will I be finishing it? No one knows. Bon apetit 😘

(Again sorry for the typos and grammatical errors English is not my first language)

John was about to die of boredom being stuck in his car for countless of hours surviving only on coffee and pie from the shabby road side diners he passed by. But the thought of what (or more like who) waited for him at the end of his journey made it all worth while in the end.

After what felt like an eternity and countless questions of strangers to point him in the right direction he finally caught the sight he was looking for at the end of the long winding dirt road.

A white paneled farmhouse stood stretching high on the ground like some kind of holy church surrounded by mountains and carefully placed wooden fences greeted him like some sort of salvation. Offering him a bit of peace and comfort.

Clambering out of his beat up pickup truck he stretched out his sore and stiff joints squinting in the glaring sun, wishing he had a hat to block out the harsh light.

He carefully pulled out his pack of smokes and lit up, savoring the first bitter drag with a quiet hum. He felt up the pocket of his slacks for the letter that was sent to him a week ago inviting him to the cozy ranch. Tracing the worn edges of the envelope he let his heart jump in the thought of the sender.

In hopes of a comfier seat and maybe some fresh warm coffee he made the short distance from his car to the worn down steps of the grand house. At the front door he took inventory of the porch, already imagining himself having a drink and a well deserved smoke sitting in one of the white woven chairs. There was a horseshoe hung on the doorframe for good luck and he had to admit that it’s kind of funny considering the fact that the owner of the house doesn’t believe in superstitions.

John raised his hand to knock but suddenly he felt a bit self conscious about the state he must be in after the long hours spent in his car. Trying to get himself under wraps he combed his fingers through his curls, longer than regulations now that the war has ended and he’s out of the army, and tucked his shirt in more firmly into the waist of his pants. Dusting himself off and rubbing his face with his hands to try and look more presentable. He had to laugh at the notion, it’s unlikely that his host would have any issues with his appearance anyways.

Finally in giddy happiness he rapped his knuckles on the painted doorframe and waited for the sweet sight of the man he so desperately wanted to see.

But there was no answer, so he knocked again and again to no avail. Maybe he was in the deeper parts of the large looking house and couldn’t hear his desperate ministration. So he opted for pounding his fist on the door, three heavy swings enough to wake the dead, and nothing. John was kind of worried that maybe the man of the hour is not home as they never set a date for the visit.

As he was about to sit on the steps to light another cigarette he heard a shout and some commotion from the far left of him and went to investigate. He rounded the house and walked along the fence a few paces, that’s when he got a sight of him. After what felt like an eternity, which was in real time only under a short year, he finally had his sight set on him.

Buck was glowing in the mid afternoon sun. He was on the back of a white stallion in full on cowboy getup. His golden spun hair was showed under a tan cowboy hat. His button up was loose from his tight denim jeans that hugged his long strong legs and he wore some dark brown leather boots that were secured in silver stirrups.

John’s breath caught in his throat and he allowed his poor heart to miss a few beats. Gale did cut a magnificent image in his natural element. As he was sure that the sun comes up every morning he was also sure that he will never see Gale ride a horse, but he was pleasantly proven wrong.

Gale looked like a real cowboy, he is a real cowboy John accepts the fact as he also accepts that he is unable to look away. Because Gale is breathtaking, he is breathtaking and John’s heart squeezes painfully. Gale stays glued to the saddle like he’s paid by the hour to do so and shouts commands to the seemingly wild horse, trying to break it in.

John whistles loudly to get his attention and Gale’s head snaps in his direction and lets out a whistle of his own to the horse and starts galloping toward John. The horse following his order makes a break in the direction Gale points him and delivers his rider in no time.

The horse kicks up quite a dust cloud as Gale skids him to a stop in front of the fence. John unable to help himself jumps back a bit. As the dust settles the first thing he sees is Buck’s toothy grin.

“Well I’ll be damned, howdy city boy” Gale greats him laying his accent on thick, leaning on the saddle with his arms crossed. John hopes he can blame the blush that spreads high on his cheeks on the warm Wyoming air.

“Hello partner” he greets Gale trying to copy the accent but failing miserably and sounding way too goofy as soon as he can get the words out “Do I have to worry about you spitting chewing tobacco at my feet or you didn’t quite commit to the whole cowboy shebang?”

Still in the process, but a bit cleaner Kirk sketch for y’all ❤️❤️

After 6 months I finally got the urge to draw again, anyways here’s a quick one for ya ❤️

(Don’t look at the hands, I absolutely can’t draw them 💀)

I have 3 AUs for Clegan in my notes app atm, all 3 only has that part done that came to me during my daydreaming sessions lol

I don’t know how all the talented people here and on ao3 are doing the whole writing process, I feel stuck and I want to finish at least one of them but I’m like unable to put my thoughts into words.

I’m gonna go berserk.