son of a thousand

[coyotec-blog1]

sorry I've been dead I'll be here after Christmas

[coyotec-blog1]

plcytowin

        ❛ you’re making a mistake. ❜ it’s a statement, not a         warning. her arms fold across her chest as hana sh-         rugs a shoulder lamely, giving off an air of nonchala-         nce. ❛ you’re super sure about this? ❜ 

                          ❛ ONLY SUPER SURE? i’ve been sure my whole life. ❜ he                           mimics her posture, much taller and more pronounced. tr-                           uth be told he, of course, WASN’T. but jesse was a man                           of try-and-always-succeed philosophy.

[coyotec-blog1]

.

[ruushes]

*slides blizzard a fistful of crumpled monopoly money* render the sweater

[ibellator]

IN YOUR DEMISE YOUR STAR HAD FALLEN!  /  o brave soldier, whomst your heart so much had desired  /  if not solace in touch of prime adore  /  or embrace as sweet as honeycoat on palate  /  withered heart seeking for replenish of water  /  soul looking for holiness lost, sacred flame ablaze  /  so you wait, so you hope. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ indi roleplay blog foroverwatch’s very own jack morrison / soldier:76, highly selective & private, heavily headcanon based & canon divergent.                                                                ( personals do not reblog /  art credit )

[coyotec-blog1]

southwinded

perhaps it was stupid of him to search for some kind of comfort from this man .  he could already feel shame welling deep inside him ;  his own issues with trust manifested in doubts  —  what if he told someone ,  told of how PATHETIC he was in this moment  ?   what if he now only saw him as this pitiful shell of a man he made himself out to be  ?   he would not blame him ,  he viewed himself the same .  he had spent over a decade in his lonesome, killing for money ,  trying to feel like he was not USELESS ,  but these feelings only seemed to worsen with time ,  with the weight of his past .   even if he were convinced that he was forgiven ,  that he was doing good now ,  it never left him .  he never felt that way about himself .

❛  STAY — just stay,  ❜    he wants those words to sound like a command ,  to sound he is at least in  control  of himself  ——  but he knows himself pathetic in this moment . he is weak ,  not even close to being in control of anything ,  clinging to the hand of a man he had barely met who had just so happened to stumble upon him in the worst of moments .  a lingering plea is almost on his lips ,  but he cannot allow himself to BREAK that easily.

    ❛ i will. ❜  ANOTHER PROMISE. he doesn’t know how useful hanzo considers it, but he thinks —— knows —— it’s something, at the least. why the archer had suddenly melted down he doesn’t know, and he has a half a mind to ask, but mccree supposed that’s for later. you always want the WELL COMPOSED ANSWER, not the one fogged by feeling and heartache and the little things in-between. you always asked for your repayment when you had done your duty, not before.

              mccree shifts away from him again, leaning up to stand and move away, but CAUTIOUSLY. he’s coming back, of course.  ❛ you want something to drink? ❜ he asks, his grip lazing to indicate that if the answer to that question is yes, he should do the same.

[coyotec-blog1]

ooc. hey!!1 i loooove plotting and pre-established relationships so if anyone would be interested ... hehe

[coyotec-blog1]

azrryel

‘  EASY.  ‘  the poltergeist responds, voice as cold as ever. his body is, for a moment, nothing but a shadow, a wisp in the night. as he steps forward, towards the bloodied and half-broken form of something a previous version of himself used to love his form begins to solidify. first, a foot and the metallic boot surrounding it. he walks right over the revolve jesse loves so much, kicking it even farther away. whack ! disrespect for the weapon he had once admired so much. his body withers, and fades once more, a mass of slithering smog and smoke, wound into a being lighter than air and yet heavier than a boulder. he snakes his way     (     in the form of charcoal dust and bloodied, glowing eyes.     )     over beside the self-proclaimed vigilante. crouching, like a big cat watching over his freshly-caught kill. though jesse was not dead yet, there was a nagging voice urging on a twitch in his index finger. his voice crackles, a heartbeat stuttering in an attempt to take form:  ‘  I’D CHOOSE YOUR WORDS CAREFULLY, COWBOY. YOU’RE NOT IN A POSITION TO POKE FUN AT ME OR AT TALON.  ‘  

❛ FUCK YOU. ❜ he whispers, and he sounds brave but there is fear in the pit of his stomach. it dragged across his quiet insides, pink and fragile, like barbed wire and ghost fingers. the smoke around him does not smell like anything but in his head he thinks of the dead. the dead and their entrance to a kingdom of night; the flowery aroma of incense and fires built of woodthings in the sand.      it wrapped around him,     but it was not disgusting. not the worms that shook their heads and dove into the dirt and flesh of one's grave, but the CEREMONIAL WELCOME into the next life.

mccree had murmured his word of defiance, but he wasn't STUPID, so he keeps quiet. he had been in circumstances like these before and he knows that there is nothing in the air that could keep him alive. he is (WAS) blackwatch, yes. but he knows nothing but what he is told, and he was told nothing during and after the fall. he's been stepping around alone for too long to be a CONCERN. he's hardly a man to keep hostage or breathing, and anyone with half a brain should know that.

jesse's eyes snap down to his gun and he hesitantly shifts himself up to get a better look at THIS GHOST.

he's been sitting in his own puddle of pissed out problems (and the method kept for escaping them) for too long. THIS SHAPE REMINDS HIM OF HALLUCINATIONS, the memories of his psyche's conjurings arising again from the years he was young and wild and didn't know much. black night white face grey smoke harsh voice pretty eyes like the embers in the fireplace at that fancy hotel and steps so harsh they made the earth shiver and fingers surprisingly warm and friendly like this is an old friend after a long time. that's what he sometimes saw, amid the bright colors and hallucinogenic barks of pink and blue dogs.

the reality in all the fantasy had always SCARED him.

[coyotec-blog1]

@azrryel​

           A SHARP ACHE SWEEPS UP HIS SIDE and he knows that his latest experiment in vigilantism has failed. he pants like a dog dying in the heat and he can’t move, tied to some cactus in the midsummer heat with the sun beating down on him like angry things beat down on kind ones. what did he expect, though? there’s always a chapter in the film, the low point yet the most courageous. the valiant anti-hero sits in the basement, poked and prodded and shot and punched and bleeding from a cut in his eye, but he does always find a way to ESCAPE. and that’s what he’ll do, despite his lack of gun and any other weapon. his mind is already racing as wild eyes glance the area for things to slither through. foxholes and coyotedens and the   HOLE IN THE FENCE   that the dog can dig under and shimmy through. he’s always thinking primal. no, he may’ve gotten a better idea of how to compose himself over the years, but at the end of the day he has not forgotten the valuables. for his line of work to be morally useful he must remember the AMORAL.

            if only the narrative were so cut and clean; if only the things that people could shoot was the thing he knew so well how to use. but instead he blacks out again, dreams a quiet little dream of a pretty bluegreen motel room on a pretty island by the pretty sea, white moon above it. he awakes to the same. but it is GROTESQUE AND UNHOLY and the heartshaped face pierces him with those black eyes. jesse isn’t stupid and he knows this is a warning hiding in subconscious thought.

             ❛ a little overdramatic, ain’t ya? ❜ he bites his cheek, leaning his head away when he finally realises that the figure is REAL, not a hallucination or a second part of his dream.  he’s SCARED. anyone with a finger over his wrist could tell that by his pulse, but you sure wouldn’t know it by the drawl of his voice. ❛ how are you s’pposed to move around in that?❜

[coyotec-blog1]

southwinded

a strike of guilt seems to hit him ;  he feels  BURDENING ,  like an annoyance ,  feels like he is forcing the gunslinger at his side when he clearly wanted to leave — he tries to dismiss it ,  but it sincerely hurts ,  a squeezing  &  tight pain in his chest .  a  ‘thank you‘  should be on his lips ,  but it leaves him .  he breathes ,  shaky ,  tried to compose himself as each word feels like another crack in those layers of walls that had shielded him for so long .  he is so reluctant  to admit to himself ,  to jesse ,  that he had spilled tears — that he had show WEAKNESS ,  and is showing it again ,  to someone —     

❛  yes, ❜    he admits ,  his voice quiet ,  breathy.    ❛  i was. ❜    he is weak ,  his body shows that ; he is tense at the same time his shoulders are slumped ,  but his hold on the other tightens as he speaks .  he feels like he will crumble before the man and collapse into the emotions enveloping him slowly .  years of taught habits were breaking at the seems ,  taught to keep quiet ,  not complain ,  not let others see your weakness   (  your feelings ,  emotions  )  ——  he feels his throat tighten ,  emotions choking him .  a DISAPPOINTMENT , he is .  he feels like he can’t breathe anymore .  it hurts so ,  so much . 

          his approach is more DIRECT now. mccree isn’t blind and he knows the feebleness of his promises and his words and his questions, but ... if you don’t know what a man wants, it’s best to ask. ❛ do you want me for anything?❜ he asks, and the inquiry hangs in the air like an almighty anchor but it’s only because he means it.   he’ll stick around, let the archer get all clammy and pale and teary-eyed and      PATHETIC!!     yet he can’t criticize, in the name of desertpeople culture or his own idea of weakness. he had done the same and he had done it worse. he’d held onto the severed fingers of substance abuse instead of of the hand of an almost stranger who had known his brother. so maybe mccree was the LESSER MAN.

              ❛ just let me know, ❜  he encourages, though his voice is     soft and distant   and you can tell that this was not a practiced thing nor was it his own. jesse follows the scripts of indicators and comforts he had received years ago. not a word is his own, but he has taken care in their ADOPTION.

[coyotec-blog1]

vitalsigned

‘ oh — jesse wait. ’ she mutters, reaching for him as he moves. ‘ could you please not do that. ’ angela has spent the better part of an hour stitching his side. ‘ if you break those stitches, we’re going to have words. ’

          ❛ what do you mean, HAVE WORDS?❜   mccree does listen, though. he isn’t stupid. knows that his wreckless moving is nothing fun for angela. no, he may not be proper, but he is at least considerate. he relaxes himself again, shifting back slow and careful, moving his arm up just a bit more so she could get a better look at the gash on him. it stung something dull, but ultimately it was nothing. 

[locksfate]

Since this year wasn’t exactly the best for many of us, I thought the winter holidays would be a good chance to get out of the negativity we’ve been subjected to in the past 12 months & back into the positivity, so I decided to organize a ‘ Secret Santa ‘ event ! 

THE RULES.

Any roleplay blog can enter as long as they are able to make a gift for the person they will be paired with. No personal blogs allowed.

Don’t reveal who you are or who you have to gift until the last day.

Have your IMs and/or inbox open. It would be preferable to have anonymous on in case your Secret Santa wishes to send you some good vibes, but it’s not mandatory.

You can either submit the gift to me so I can give it to them, submit it to them anonymously, or make a public post about it.

You can ask your Secret Santa if there is anything they would like to be gifted, but try not to make it too obvious what you’ll be gifting them.

The deadline in which you have to submit your gift is December 21. It would be preferable if you could notify me that you have submitted it so that I can keep track of who has/hasn’t received their gifts.

ENTERING AND PAIRING UP.

REBLOG this post until December 8-9 to enter. Likes do not count.

The pairs will be made and sent out on December 9-10.

If you want to reblog the post but not join, please mention it in the tags.

If you have a problem with the person you have been paired with, please tell me AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, so that I can make any necessary changes.

Please do not delete your blog or abandon the event midway. It makes it incredibly difficult for me to find a solution that’d work with both parties.

WHAT CAN I GIFT?

Fanwork (Icons, Graphics, AMVs, Gif sets, PSDs etc)

Fanfiction / Drabbles

Fanart

If you have any questions that haven’t been answered in this post, please don’t be afraid to shoot me a message ! 

[coyotec-blog1]

southwinded

to allow himself to open up was a feat barely accomplished ,  but somehow done so in the presence of none other than  MCCREE  —  and ,  well ,  some alcohol to ease himself .  the dark room seemed to shroud his thoughts and hold his doubts ,  and without reluctance or thought ,  he grasped the cowboy’s hand with his own ,  almost desperately for a moment ,  before he let his tight grip relax .  he stared at the floor ,  gaze reflective and tense ,  illuminated by a streak of moonlight peeking through a near window .

❛   —  it is difficult… when the thoughts  &  worries appear without my own deliberation,   ❜    he whispers ;  pain is present in his features ,  REGRET .  his heartbeat nearly defeaned him as he felt himself slowly fall apart ,  the several walls breaking apart and revealing him ,  and the only thing maintaining himself was the warm grasp of jesse’s hand .  he falters ,  wanting to meet his eyesight but too ashamed of his own emotions to allow himself to .

          his advice rides out like the wind at the door, useless. faltering. but he is not wiseman and he is not someone of particularly    KIND AND RATIONAL   circumstance. it had gotten better, over the years, but this kind of faltering emotion, the one that was leaving hanzo an open book of vulnerabilities —  it was a privilege he could never derive from. and that had always been fine with him. the desertplace had been    DOG EAT DOG    and no-one touched for another’s hand and no-one felt the warm roar of a voice and its advice. something tells jesse that he should     BREAK    that pattern, after all that he had learned and was reformed through. ❛ i’ll stick around,❜ the gunslinger promises, but he isn’t sure of its use.

                 ❛ were you crying earlier?❜  mccree changes the subject without actually changing it.  slowly, he sits down again. actions speak louder than words, when he had been moving for the door, for some starlitten walk to take while the archer regained his composure. he doesn’t know what to do to FIX THIS. he couldn’t just shoot it. but maybe he could help it along faster. 

[warvirtuearchieve-deactivated20]

                                       SHE MUST BE AN ANGEL. CREDIT

[coyotec-blog1]

007

reference . (007: cry on)

             he can FEEL the tears through his clothes, soft and quiet and hidden like the face buried into his back.  a knot twists in his stomach and mccree feels SICK. sick of the mouth and sick of the gut, but he’s sure that it’s nothing compared to the rise and fall of angela’s     quaking shoulders,    the grip on his sleeve and the era of sadness settling upon the room. he is a man of few words, and the words he speaks are     dumb and indifferent. no. he’s hardly a poet, hardly a philosopher, hardly a therapist. but he is genuine, and he does speak his mind. ❛ it’s okay, you can’t save everyone. ❜

[coyotec-blog1]

" Put that cigar out before the smoke detectors go off. "

              ❛  SMOKE DETECTORS?❜ he sounds surprised, shocked that such a thing even exists , but the constrained annoyance just can’t help but drip off his lips. ❛this ain’t gonna climb high enough to do that. now, if you’re worried about CARCINOGENS,❜ jesse taps the tip of the cigarette with his thumb, catching ash.❛ then i’d be happy to oblige. ❜

[coyotec-blog1]

001. grab their hand

reference .

               shimada’s hands are a warm black. dying coals in the pit of a fire built in a throat, but despite the absurdity of the sensation mccree doesn’t pull away, just pauses. stops in his tracks but doesn’t turn to see the archer’s face. the night is long and it is so young, too young to understand what was going on, but jesse forgave its ignorance. the stretch of seconds grow and he finally moves his hand away, stepping back and garnering the courage to look at those eyes. in the right light, that brown almost looked gold (he can’t tell if it BOTHERS HIM or INTRIGUES HIM). ❛if you don’t worry about it,❜   jesse says simply,   ❛it shouldn’t bother you no more.❜