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#mancomer
johix · 6 months
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a sort of alternative ending mantimer commission for @pasta-pardner whose blog I was so excited to find after I got into this ship and the dollars trilogy. I'm still pleasantly surprised there is a fandom and I hope all the 3-5 lovely ppl will enjoy this fanart :D thank you so much again for commissioning me!!
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pasta-pardner · 1 year
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sixguns & innuendo
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Partners.........................
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fvitsk · 7 months
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Only Lee Van Cleef looks at Clint Eastwood like that
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khazadspoon · 4 months
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not to be horny about it on main (lies) but do you think manco ever lay down at night and touched the scar on his neck, thinking about the man who called him “my boy”, the man who came to him and wanted to join their lives together, fought by his side and teased him and helped him only to turn away when the job was done?
do you think manco ever dreamed of the man he called partner kissing that scar, apologising, coming back and stay a little while longer when asked?
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alboys · 4 months
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Mortimer takes meticulous care of all of his belongings, possessing the fastidious nature of a career military man and enjoying the satisfaction of neatness. He folds or hangs up his clothing the moment he takes it off, has it laundered at the first sign of dirt, polishes his saddle every other month like clockwork, organizes and takes inventory of everything in his bag before leaving and upon reaching a new destination, keeps his horse well bathed and brushed.
Manco possesses an inclination towards slovenliness. Mortimer has to admit it is one thing about the boy that irritates him. Articles of clothing strewn across the hotel room, holes in the toes of all of his socks, cracking leather on his saddle, his hat resembling a sieve more than an article of clothing. Manco does not care. Mortimer does. Now that they are partners, the quality of Manco’s gear could affect their work. At least, that’s what Mortimer tells himself when he starts to pick up the slack.
It started out small. When Mortimer was polishing his shoes on Sunday morning, it occurred to him that polishing Manco’s wouldn’t be too much more work. Then when he was washing and conditioning his saddle, Manco’s was sitting there, dry and cracked from the New Mexico sun, he just had to try to salvage it. Then he’s darning the boy’s socks, mending the bullet holes in his serape and wondering how they got there.
Manco hasn’t had someone taking care of him since he was very young, there’s something intimate beyond words about it. Laying on the bed, smoking his cigarillo and watching as the old man’s deft fingers bring the needle in and out and through and cleanly sew up the tear in his shirt, feeling something ancient and safe and pleasant, like a home he never knew. He can’t return the favor, can’t sew worth a damn, no one taught him how to condition leather or wash clothes or organize. He has to take care of Mortimer in other ways.
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someguywriting · 9 months
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it's 4 am help me
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wengenn · 3 months
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Why and also why not
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ilvostrobecchino · 1 year
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Spaghetti westerns as text posts 2/?
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pinkstudentcowboy · 1 year
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Him palms were big and warm…
Happy Valentine’s Day!
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violasmirabiles · 1 year
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Good day. I wrote a short little thing where Manco and Mortimer visit the Colonel’s sister. It’s. It’s sad.
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johix · 11 months
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well... let's just say I was in a mood for watching a good western one night, watched the dollars triology (and then some) and since then me and my gf have been on a journey.
Absolutely fell in love with Mr. Van Cleef and fully immersed ourselves in the romance of one meddling brat boy and the one wholesome light-of-my-life colonel Douglas.
I implore you, I'm begging go watch "For a few dollars more" bc the only thing missing in this movie is a kiss (but you can definitely pinpoint the time they fucked offscreen). Otherwise it's basically a western romance with a good end.
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pasta-pardner · 1 year
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ok so u know that feeling when u go out to a store and you notice that the cashier is Obviously Gay-- bc their hair/pins/vibe/whatever are a giveaway-- and u wanna let them know that you're Also Gay, but you cant mention it verbally bc that would be Weird, so u just sort of stare at them real hard hoping to telepathically communicate???
thats what this scene is to me.
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probably-impossible · 5 months
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So I may have started writing a supernatural-AU Dollars Trilogy fic...
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fvitsk · 7 months
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A disguised love story
I'm reading a book on screenwriting. In it, the author presents their categories of films. One of them is called "Two Companions." Here's a quote: "The secret of a good movie about two friends is that it's actually a disguised love story. At the beginning of the story, the 'friends' must hate each other (otherwise, the plot wouldn't work). However, as they go through various trials together, they realize that they need each other because, essentially, they are halves of a whole. It's difficult for two people to accept the fact that together they are much better than apart."
When I read these lines, there was only one thing in my mind... IT'S ABOUT THEM
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khazadspoon · 5 months
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ohoho you also like our good friend fafdm... prompt: sitting on their lap with Manco/Mortimer? I feel like Manco being The Way That He Is would do it sort of to mess with him and then get very into it.. another more playful way to invade his space after the boot stepping/hat shooting incident perhaps?
yes yes yes yes haHA yes!!!
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One drink turned into two. Two turned into three. Three turned into half a bottle of good whiskey shared between them and a lessening of the quality of the conversation. Colonel Mortimer had drifted back from the window, his long body stretched out in a chair at the table, and Manco was still considering what he thought of the man.
A good shot, for sure, not easy to shock or rile up. As steady and sharp as they come. He intrigued Manco, and that was never a good thing. When someone intrigued him, Manco usually ended up getting into a mess he would need help getting out of. But with whiskey warming his blood and making him feel more like a lanky youth than he really was, it didn’t seem to matter all that much.
He stood, fingers running along the edge of the table as he rounded it, and circled the back of Mortimer’s chair.
“What’re you doing, boy?” The man asked, head tilted to the side as he peered up at Manco.
“Nothing.”
Mortimer huffed a laugh and sipped his whiskey. His hand stopped in the air as Manco dropped himself unceremoniously into the man’s lap. He shifted a little, settling in with his arm braces on the table, legs kicked out under Mortimer’s raised arm, his other arm draped over Mortimer’s shoulder.
Mortimer raised an eyebrow at him, lips quirked at the corner in a small, confused smile. “Nothing… sure. Anybody ever tell you your backside’s about as soft as a jagged cliff?”
Manco shrugged, plucked a match from his breast pocket and lit his cigar. “Once or twice.”
“So you make a habit of sitting in strange men’s laps?”
Another shrug, a smile forming on his own lips. “Figured it’s more comfortable here than on that chair. Can’t blame a man for getting comfortable.”
His body was jostled as Mortimer placed his glass back on the table. A hand pressed to the small of his back, broad and warm through his shirt, and the other landed on his thigh. It squeezed, a warning and invitation all at once that made Manco’s heartbeat pick up.
“I’m not going to be coaxed into a fight, boy.”
“Good, because I’m not looking for a fight.”
Mortimer’s smile softened, the lines around his eyes deepening as the hand on Manco’s back slid upwards. “Then what are you looking for?”
Manco paused, unsure of himself for a moment. He didn’t really know, was the thing; he’d sat down because he thought it would be amusing, crowding himself into Mortimer’s space and maybe getting shoved off, maybe getting the fight he claimed not to want. But the hand on his thigh just held him steady, kneading at the muscle and making his breath catch as it moved higher.
“Well,” Mortimer said after a minute, “you think about it while I finish my drink. I’m a patient man, I can wait.”
Manco tried not to notice the lingering heat on his thigh as Mortimer took his glass again, raising it to his lips and taking a slow sip. He watched a drop fall down the edge of the glass, saw the damp sheen on Mortimer’s mouth, licked his own lips and caught the way Mortimer watched the motion.
As promised, Mortimer waited while he finished his drink. He seemed patient, his body relaxed even with Manco’s weight keeping it in place, but there was a brightness to his eyes that never left Manco’s face. The hand on Manco’s back smoothed up and down, rubbed soothingly, but it only made Manco want to fidget and squirm. He wasn’t a kid anymore even if Mortimer did keep calling him ‘boy’. He was a man, one who had seen and done things no man should, and plenty he thought more men should.
He did shift as the hand returned to his thigh, the empty glass returned to the table. He rocked his hips as though getting more comfortable, heard the catch in Mortimer’s breath and held his own as the hand on his thigh squeezed again.
“Don’t play with me, boy; you might not like how the game goes if you don’t know the rules.”
Mortimer’s hand slid up his thigh almost to his hip, fingers slipping into the small gap between thigh and groin, sending a flash of fire up Manco’s spine. He let his legs fall apart a little, blew smoke into the air above their heads and snuffed the cigar out for later.
“Who says I don’t know the rules?”
Mortimer made a sound, low and heated, the hand on Manco’s back suddenly gripping the nape of his neck. He let out a shuddering breath as both hands squeezed.
“Something tells me you don’t know how to play by the rules…” Mortimer considered him, eyes roaming over the length of Manco’s body. “Maybe someone should teach you.”
Manco gave him a crooked grin and arched into the touches. “Go ahead, old man, we’ve got all night.”
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