Category: blondeyes

waste lose save spend kill make find (keep)

waste lose save spend kill make find (keep):

sybilius:

After five years in the North, Blondie feels time creeping up, numbering his days till inevitable disaster.

It’s nothing and everything but a feeling.

*

*walks shyly on to the stage again*

Hi everyone. Another Blondeyes story, and another story I’ve written about depression. For a long time now I’ve thought pretty seriously about writing about the uglier realities of depression– but I usually came to the conclusion that such a fic would ultimately be boring. The truth is that getting through depression is boring and tiring, sometimes. That’s a story that’s harder to take.

I’ve written more than a few depression or suicidal ideation stories too where characters in a supporting role are just that– supportive, understanding, and empathetic. But of course, sometimes when depression hits the people closest might be the least well equipped to support you. In that case the next best thing is someone who at least knows they’re going to be shite at it – and tries their best to find someone to learn from, listen, and not pass too much judgment in the meantime.

Anyways the ship that finally folded to these themes was Blondeyes because the world needs more icons of masculinity having a good depression cry.

Maybe I should say sorry I keep writing these? *throws up hands in exasperation @ self*

Thanks to @ave-ari for the title

The Grey Desert Mythos | Chapter 4: tabula ras…

The Grey Desert Mythos | Chapter 4: tabula rasa:

sybilius:

In the Naa’in town of Tweechik, where many strange outcasts gathered, there lived two men of the West, a hunter and a killer. There are many stories of Tweechik about them, this is their last.
*
So you know how people say “kill your darlings” about writing? Wellllllll here we are. The completed Blair Witch/The Good, the Bad and the Ugly crossover that no one asked for.

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bleak-nomads:

syb’s guide to her own pasta fic

Another fic writer in my other fandom wrote a “guide to their own fic” where she sass-described all the different works and their purposes. I thought that would be a fun thing to do with my pasta fic 🙂 other fic writers encouraged to do the same with theirs.

The first fic I wrote for the fandom was Devil’s pupil gonna teach you to sight. If The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly is your starter spaghetti Western and what you wanted from it was some grimy cowboy hatesex, you’ve come to the right place. If you get into this fic, scroll down past the cut for the Coles notes on my Blondeyes fic.

Just saw For a Few Dollars More and want shippy Mantimer content? I have two fics, A Name’s Witness, which is a series of shippy canon annotations, and Sight, Blank, and Shot which is a post canon fix it fic with a rollicking adventure and some soft bondage.

For some less mainstream offerings, A Companion to Trees and a Song for a Friend is a post canon daemon au to Beyond the Law. I think this is one of the sweetest fics I have ever written, which suits the good ship Cudvac.

The total tonal opposite is my fic cheap dynamite for A Bullet for the General (which is only on tumblr since I still don’t feel I’m very good at writing abuse ships). Nino/Chuncho, and definitely heed the content warnings on this fic.

I also have like a coin that won’t get tossed, which explores a post canon Ryan and Bill from Death Rides a Horse. My characterization there is in broad strokes based on @mcicioni-blog’s writings so I would highly encourage you to read her work first, since it’s closer to the canon timeline.

Alright, now let’s talk about the content I make rather obsessively: Blondeyes. Please for the love of God read the tags and chapter notes if you need trigger warnings.

If you want more canon-close content for GBU, the place to start is Three of Spades, Two of Clubs, but only the first three chapters. This fic is a series of short Blondie and Angel Eyes centric ficelets I wrote, but some of these will only be relevant to people who have read my entire Blondeyes canon. Be warned, the third chapter is sad, but I think of it as one of my best short works.

If you were into the kinky hatefuck dynamic of Devil’s Pupil, why not give solitudinum fecerunt, pacem appelunt a try? It’s mostly that but it has a great arc and some unusual narration.I’m oddly proud of the characterization I had for Angel Eyes in this. That fic sort of starts you down the rabbit hole of my Blondeyes verse.

If you read that and want more angst, but nothing too long, Chapter 4 of Three of Spades presents a divergence to solitudinem that is both sweet and angsty. (who built) the road is also a short and sweet drabble series, with angst in places. It’s meant to bridge solitudinem and the next fic, so it can be read before or after without a whole lot changed.

If you’re ready to jump down the rabbit hole, Sighted Crows in a Desert of Rime is probably one of my best works, and my love letter to Hannibal. Relentless angst, murder sideplot, extreme kinky bullshit, and a happy ending. Oh and if you’ve gotten this far please drop me a message – I love talking to people about the ship.

If you just want a little bit of goddamn fluff from this ship of all places….Chapter 5 of Three of Spades will do that for you.

If you’re sick of both of them by now and you want a total tone shift, also you’re interested in reading an epistolary with nods to House of Leaves and follows roughly the plot of The Blair Witch Project, well, The Grey Desert Mythos is the fic for you. Is it the most obscure bullshit I have ever written? Probably.

I have at least two other Blondeyes fics in the works right now, which I will append to this post later 🙂

Finally, if you want some silly ficlets the drabble tag on this blog has a few things that will probably never be revised into real fics.

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bleak-nomads:

vertigo (blondeyes, nsfw, 856 wds)

Anyways I needed to write porn because Reasons so here are the cowboys being kinky edgelords on a mountain but also being very sweet. Don’t try this at home kids.

*

The north’s call presented many challenges to be met. Survival cut to the quick of winter’s bone. Frostbite and journeys across landscapes too barren for almost anything to be recognizable as civilization. But the most obvious challenge is that of the mountains, never far on the horizon.

It took two summers, rather than one, to find time for them.

Ascension is action –  each grip on cool stone and boot dug in to a promising crevice is a move made in a game where the adversary is the mountain itself. A fronte praecipitium a tergo lupi, for every shift of the step.

With the exception of a misstep that tested strength against the weight of Blondie’s muscle, by now the summit is in sight. One last scrabble onto the ledge– and hell.

That is a sight.

So Sue’s advice was sound, as always. The rest of the range of mountains stretch out far into the blue haze cast by the sky, each crag and valley somehow both uniform and unique. From summer’s distance, Tweechik looks almost green. A view from the skies, one of gods and angels. One step closer to the clouds, seemingly reachable from the edge.

The edge.

Looking down from just a moment before, a sheer drop one could watch a rock fall for miles, it seems before smashing in the trees beneath.

That takes the breath away – pushes it right back to the top of the throat, the view tilting, a few steps back.

The rock face at the summit has no grips – and there’s very little of it. One could almost turn around, stretch out overtop to see the southern view, but that would still leave nothing to hold on to–

“You alright?” Blondie is squinting at the view, flexing his fingers. So close to the edge. Though there’s barely six feet between him and the wall.

He’s staring. Legs are not amenable to pressing forward.

“Hey–” He intercepts the movement, pushing back against the hard rock.

“I’m fine,” something of a useless denial, as he’s already got one hand on the heartbeat. He tilts his head, parts his lips. The heartbeat quickens, for an entirely different reason.

“Seems like you need a distraction.”

The sky is searingly blue for once, summer in the north. Blondie presses a hand to the jackrabbit pulse offered in the neck, and then with his mouth, the heat of his tongue teasing the flesh there.

Oh god, Blondie is many things, observant being the least of them, but sometimes he simply knows.

You can’t fault his instincts.

“Am I wrong?” Blondie steps back, a question in his eyes.

“Don’t stop,” and sure enough, the hot breath in his ear goes straight to Blondie’s groin. He flicks open fabric to trace the year-old scar, a reminder, no doubt, nemo ante mortem beatus.

Something in the air, the thin vertigo of it, sets the fire and ache in all too fast. There’s almost a clumsiness to stripping off Blondie’s pants, a relief in taking his cock in so deep it blurs the setting out of sight. Certainly Blondie’s moan is an ample distraction.

Blondie fucks hard, even with what little movement the ledge allows, bracing himself on the cliff face and letting his length choke and overwhelm all sensation. The only thing that remains is breathing the thin air as the need builds, eradicating anything else.

Just as a headiness from loss of air starts to build, Blondie pulls off with a gasp, stomach shaking but hands still steady. He offers his hand, generous, and when balanced, he backs in to the wall of the summit again, so that there is nothing to be seen but the rasp of the rock and the harsh kaleidoscope of greys.

Blondie runs a finger distractingly downwards, undoing the belt slowly to expose bare skin to the mountain’s face, “So?”

“Yes.”

He carried the oil with him, clever bastard, all those switchbacks up the side of the mountain to tease out a scream finger by finger on this cliffside. The scar is raw friction against the chips of rock, catching where the stitches once were.

Not for the first time, I know that it wasn’t a mistake.

He drags it out touch by touch, but once he’s finally forced his length inside, his movement, the sound of his boots on the rocks drags the image of the sheer drop back to the forefront of memory. Blondie is screaming through his release, but the cliff face offers nor grip nor purchase, nothing but his arm to dig nails into.

He catches his breath, pressing hard against the rock, slowing, but not letting up. He knows, and yet–

“You had me on that last ledge, you caught me,” He breathes, and there’s truth in that, as much as it had been a strain to pull his body back.

“Come on, relax. I’ve got you, Angel. I’ve got you.”

Fingers scrabble against the sheer rock, the rush of release just as dangerous as the climb, as the fall.

And still held fast.

I let myself relax, breathe, feel nothing but the sun and his grip, his breath on my neck.

Chapter 3: Those to die salute you | …

Chapter 3: Those to die salute you | Il buono il brutto il cattivo | The Good The Bad and The Ugly (1966)The Blair Witch Project (1999):

sybilius:

Aaaaand this crazy nonsense finally has an update. Now with more spooky stuff! Now with more trying to be HOL except my writing is still a work in progress! Anyways I hope you have fun with this. 

Angel Eyes, rust ; for the word prompt :)

Angel Eyes, rust ; for the word prompt 🙂

me: what if gbu was set in the 1980’s and what if you wrote in second person to challenge yourself for no reason

also me: wow that is A Novel Idea

Keep reading

The Grey Desert Mythos – sybilius – Il buono i…

The Grey Desert Mythos – sybilius – Il buono il brutto il cattivo | The Good The Bad and The Ugly (1966) [Archive of Our Own]:

sybilius:

Two hunters chased the legend of a shaman across a snow-covered desert.

They were never found.

This is the account found in their stead. This is the story they left behind.

Keep reading

bleak-nomads:   It’s a night so cold that br…

bleak-nomads:

 

It’s a night so cold that breath crystallizes even with roaring fires at both ends of the saloon. The wind is howling full tear outside, rattling against the wooden latch. It would be murder to try and shut the door. Not that there are many patrons, only a few shivering at tables and a man with an unlit cigar tapping his gloved fingers on the counter.

Corvus oculum corvi non eruit- Sighted Crows in a Desert of Rime – Moodboard

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bleak-nomads:

Excerpt from the Blairwitchfic that’s sort of sweet and nice:

Keep reading

Regular

bleak-nomads:

Man I wish Blondie referred to Angel Eyes at least once in canon. Like, I adore his disgusted indifference to Angel but god I would die if he called him like….a sonofabitch at least once