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vanillasakura · 3 years ago

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IT’S FINALLY HERE <3

I first got into Red Dead around late July or so when I watched my friend and her dad speedrun the game, and one of the first things I came across for this fandom was Sapphic Week, so I’m very very happy to be able to contribute this year, especially as I’d be lying if I said the lovely ladies in this game weren’t the main reason I initially got into it and ended up buying it for myself.

Once again, a HUGE shoutout to @rdrsapphicships and Aldrig for hosting this event! I’m so excited to see what everyone creates <3 Without further ado, let’s get into it!

RDRSW21 Day 1: Music

Title: Close Your Eyes (As it Eats at Us)

Words: 1857

Pairing: Abigail Roberts/Molly O’Shea

Warnings/Notes: Slight John bashing I’m sorry but this takes place early chapter 2 so... slightly warranted

(Title from Close Your Eyes by The Midnight Club)

ao3 link

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Don't you know, when your eyes are closed, you see the world from the clouds along with everybody else?

Indeed, Molly was on her own much of the time. Dutch could only afford her so much attention, and when he was away from camp or otherwise occupied, there wasn’t anybody who really came up to her on their own will. Not exactly like she could blame them, Molly wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. Growing up, she’d always assumed otherwise, but after seeing how Karen and Tilly had told her to stop coming up to them and “being a bitch for no good reason”, she began to wonder if everyone back home was nice to her because they had to be. Even if Molly herself wasn’t a picture-perfect example of politeness, being anything but an angel to the O’Shea daughter could have been considered blasphemy.

It was lonely, terribly so, but Molly wasn’t quite sure what she could do to remedy the situation. She wrote poetry, she read books, she went on walks in circles around camp, she looked out over the valley (Horseshoe Overlook really hadn’t gotten its name from nowhere), but more than anything, Molly watched.

She watched how Reverend had gradually stopped bothering pretending to read the bible, instead choosing to start downing drinks earlier and earlier. She watched how Bill devoured Kieran with his eyes, all but confirming her suspicion that the man did indeed want to bed the new camp member. She watched how Karen would clench her jaw when Mary-Beth asked how things were going with Sean, but would then take his hand later and pull him out of camp, the pair slipping away to either do each other or to do nothing at all. She watched how Arthur hadn’t bothered to take down the photo of the woman who did nothing but cause him pain even after Hosea had told him to do so, instead still glancing at it longingly every now and again while he cleaned his guns in his tent. She watched Josiah practice speaking in all sorts of different accents on the outskirts of camp, correcting himself out loud whenever something wasn’t quite right. She watched how Jack would try and weave flower crowns for his mother, small hands shaking as he attempted to tie the stems of various blooms together, putting the ones he had broken too short or knocked a petal off of in a pile to his left. She watched how John admitted to Javier and Pearson that, if he could, he would kill Abigail and never think twice about it.

The comment shouldn’t have startled Molly as much as it did. She knew that John was a good man deep down, but the way that he uttered the confession without so much as a second thought as to if what he was saying was okay made her sick. Abigail was nothing if not kind, hard-working, and strong, nothing like the type of woman you would imagine deserved those kinds of threats. What made John that angry at her, Molly didn’t know, and she wasn’t quite sure that she cared to.

After that night, Molly didn’t just stop watching. She’d heard people say worse things, many times, but there was something about the raw earnesty in which John had spoken that made his words haunt Molly like nothing else had. She decided to start watching Abigail more, justifying it by telling herself that it was for the other woman’s safety, even though realistically, there wasn’t much protection that Molly could offer her.

And one of the first things that Molly noticed as she began watching Abigail was that the woman could sing.

Abigail had this habit, whenever she was sitting in her tent on her own while working on something that needed to be done, where she would hum a tune, letting her own voice pop in here and there with the words that she knew. It was an uncoordinated affair, but it was never intended to be anything but.

It was also adorable.

So adorable, in fact, that Molly decided that maybe she didn’t just need to watch anymore, maybe she could actually go and sit with Abigail. After all, much like her, Abigail was alone, more often than not. What harm could come of it?

“You need any help?” Abigail looked up from her work, pausing her humming as Molly stood by her, close, but not so much so as to suffocate the other woman.

“Didn’t know you offered that.” Abigail responded, expression unreadable.

“Hasn’t been something I’ve extended before.”

“With all due respect, Miss O’Shea, I don’t need anyone’s help if they only do so because they take pity on me, especially someone who ‘isn’t anyone’s servant girl’.” Abigail’s eyes turned cold, her brow furrowed, and Molly felt anxiety beginning to set in.

“That wasn’t my intention whatsoever, I just…” she trailed off, and Abigail cocked her head, “I just don’t want to be alone. Is it okay if I enjoy your company? Just for a short while.”

Abigail sighed, chewing on her lip. “I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t know that feelin’ all too well. Truth be told, you’re the first person who’s come up to me in weeks.”

“I have no idea why that is, though.” Molly picked a sock out of the basket by Abigail’s feet, grabbing a needle and some thread along with it. “You’re such a nice person, it truly is a shame that others don’t recognize it.”

“ ‘Nice person’? Miss O’Shea, you hardly know me.”

Molly felt the same dreadful wave of anxiety begin to rise inside of her again. “I may not have talked to you much in the past, but I’ve watched.”

“Watched? Me?”

“I watch everybody.” Molly admitted, stabbing the cotton with her needle. “Although I must confess, I do enjoy watching you. I know that isn’t exactly polite, though.”

“You’re right in that it ain’t, but I suppose I’m a hypocrite, so what does my opinion really matter?”

“You, a hypocrite? How so?”

“Gets lonely when nobody comes up to make conversation. Sometimes, you’ve gotta get your fix by watching others.” Abigail laughed. “You never really feel like a part of the group, but it can help alleviate the pain sometimes.”

“Have you ever seen how Karen and Sean sneak off all the time?” Molly asked. “Lord only can imagine what shenanigans they get up to.”

“If I know either of them, they’re probably finding some tree to fuck up against.” Abigail said, a smile appearing on her face. “Although, on second thought, maybe not, given what happened at his welcome party.”

“At the welcome party? I guess you must have seen something I didn’t. Mind sharing?” Molly asked, her interest thoroughly peaked.

Abigail snorted. “Well, you saw how the two of them were all over each other that night, right?”

“Would’ve had to be blind as a bat to not have.”

“Well,” Abigail continued, “at some point, I saw the two of them go into John’s tent, and given my proximity to them, it wasn’t hard to hear what was bein’ said and fill in the gaps.”

“So they slept together at the party? Can’t say that I’m quite surprised.” Molly tied up the thread as she reached the end of the tear, reaching for a handkerchief to work on next.

“They sure did, but that ain’t the good part.” Molly watched as Abigail’s eyes laughed, full of a mischief that she had never seen present before in her usually quiet companion. “Sean has got to be the quickest quick shot I’ve ever seen, and given my history, that’s sayin’ somethin’.”

“No.” Molly covered up her mouth, stifling a laugh.

“Yes! Poor Karen never even got hers, it had to have been the most pathetic thirty seconds in her entire life.” Abigail smiled, and Molly’s heart twitched. Why?

“Thirty seconds? Wow, if that’s so, then maybe they aren’t all over each other when they go out, and you’re right.”

Abigail laughed, smiling at Molly. “Well, who’s to say, I’m not sure there even is such a thing as a constant when those two are involved.”

“You may be right there.” Molly puffed one of her cheeks out, trying her best to figure out what to bring up next. She was having a lot of fun, she should do this more often, especially as Abigail also seemed to appreciate the time they were spending together. “Okay, now is it just me, or does Bill look at Kieran a little too often for it to be considered friendly?”

“Oh, it’s not just you, no worries. I’m just a little surprised that out of everyone, he decided to be sweet on Kieran.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I mean, he’s nothing like the kind of men Bill’s been sweet on in the past.”

Molly stopped in her tracks. “Wait, you’ve known about Bill before this?”

“Yeah, it ain’t that hard to figure it out if you know what to look for.” Unable to gauge Molly’s reaction, Abigail continued on. “I mean, I don’t have a problem with it, whatever makes you happy makes you happy, y’know? And if that means lovin’ somebody of the same sex, I sure as hell don’t see a problem with it.”

“We’re in agreement there.” Molly smiled, going back to her work, her heart beat now more palpable. “I mean, as nice as it can be to see everyone here fall in love-”

“Or lust.” Abigail interjected, a smirk on her face.

“Or lust, that’s true-- I still think that my favorite person to observe is you.”

“Hm? And why is that?” Abigail still had that smirk on her face, raising an eyebrow. “What about me is so interesting that you’d prefer to watch me than whatever the latest addition to the Sean and Karen saga is?”

“I, uh,” Molly flushed, suddenly aware of what she was saying and how weird it could be considered. “I just, I like watching you hum and sing whenever you work. Something about it is just, I dunno, very relaxing.”

Abigail clicked her tongue. “You really do notice a lot, huh?”

“Yeah.” Molly replied sheepishly.

“I guess it’s only fair that I tell you that I find watching you write poetry is quite calming.”

“You saw me doing that?”

“How could I not? Both of us do a lot of watching and thinking, we’re both very similar in that regard.” she said, unbothered by Molly’s embarrassment.

“I’m… glad, you can find comfort in something that I do.” Molly settled on.

“The more we talk, the more I’m beginning to think that I just find comfort in you. Somethin’ about you just makes you easy for me to talk to.” Abigail smiled.

“The same goes for you.” Molly sighed, nibbling on her lip. “We should do this more often. I’m having a good time.”

“So am I.” Abigail agreed. “It’s much better to be with you than to be alone.”

“It really is.” Molly shifted a bit, turning more towards Abigail. Maybe working wasn’t so bad after all.

#rdrsapphicweek2021 #abigail roberts #abigail roberts marston #abigail marston #molly o'shea #rdr2 community #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fandom #red dead fandom #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #my writing #fanfiction #wlw #sapphic

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spooky-luvur · 4 years ago

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Hi! So i was the anon who requested the Dutch with a male s/o who had a abusive family. Can you do a part 2 with the reader just having PTSD and cuddle/fluff shit ensues

Hi!

I told myself I would start working on this right when I got it, like I did with the first part, but I got distracted replaying Oblivion all day, so I felt bad and put this together after that

Forgive me if I get something wrong. I personally don’t have PTSD, but my sister does, so I hope I have enough to go off of

(Warnings: ptsd, mentions of abuse, language)

(Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes)

At first, everyone was skeptical. But after seeing how you flinched at nearly every sudden move and have to constantly be by Dutch or else you start panicking, they decided to lay off.

Dutch had taken you in, brought you to his camp, introduced you to his family, and told you no one would ever touch a damn hair on your head again or he would bring them hellfire.

He’d saved you from a fate worse than death. You owe him everything. (suppose we can guess what choice (m/n) makes at the end of chapter 6)

Everything was fine, but...there were a few members you were more wary of than others.

Micah Bell and Molly O’Shea.

You and Dutch hadn’t...done anything...to make it seem like you were together. But the way he’d talk to you...look at you...it made those two stare. For different reasons.

The ladies of the camp had told you before you got here, Molly and Dutch were together. But just the day before, that ended, for reasons unknown to the camp. Now, the woman would give you odd stares from across camp. It made you tense, but Dutch would lay a hand on your shoulder and steer you away.

Now, Micah, was a different story.

Sometimes he would follow you around camp, just to see you duck and hurry away. It would make him laugh to see you scared.

He was like pa.

Today, Dutch and Hosea, another kind soul, had gone into town to attempt to rob some other poor fool. It was the first day without Dutch, and so at first, you only stayed in the tent. Until there was a voice from outside.

“Mr. (M/n)?”

You perk up. It was the young boy, Jack.

You see he’s holding something colorful in his hands once you exit the tent.

“Hi, Jack.”

“Hiya (M/n). I was gonna make necklaces. Do you wanna help me? You looked sad. Is it because Uncle Dutch isn’t here?”

“I’ll be okay, Jack. Don’t worry,” you give the boy a smile. “Now how about those necklaces?”

“You gotta twist the stems like this, see?”

“Got it.”

You and Jack sit by the fire in peace for a few more minutes, twisting and twirling the flowers around each other before there’s a loud scoff. Both of you look up, but you immediately duck your head back down.

Micah narrows his eyes, looking between you and the boy. His lips curl intro a mean grin.

“Careful Jacky boy, I wouldn’t spend too much time with ol’ (M/n) here. Wouldn’t want him to *rub off* on you the wrong way.”

Jack looks uncomfortable, and so you glance up and do something you know you’ll regret,

“Leave him alone, Micah.”

He laughs, loudly, attracting the attention of nearby gang members.

“Finally grew some balls, did ya??”

Jack stands, you following a moment later. The boy glances at you before running to get John.

“Didn’t think you’d have it in you to do much of anything, ‘specially since Daddy Dutch isn’t here to baby you.”

He steps closer, nearly making you fall back into the fire.

His hand suddenly snaps up as if he’s about to hit you, and this time, you do fall back. But strong arms catch you before you get burned, pulling you away.

You don’t feel it. You can’t hear the yelling around you. Your ears are ringing, everything’s muffled like a shot just went off right by your head. Your arms are wrapped tightly around your head, blocking off anything and everything.

When Micah raised his hand, you saw your Pa. In that split second, you saw all the times when he would do the exact same. Heard all the yelling, all the cursing. Felt all the beatings. Felt all the blood. The bruises. The cuts, the scars.

For several moments, you thought you were back there. Back at that horrible place, surrounded by those horrible people. Someone yells your name. A hand grips your arm, and you let out a terrified shriek, curling up tighter, away from the touch.

A choked sob leaves your lips as your arms are pried away and warm hands grip the sides of your face.

All the fear melts away once your eyes meet Dutch’s. He’s talking, his lips are moving, but you don’t hear it. All you can focus on are his wide, brown eyes.

“...kay, son, you’re okay.”

You blink, eyes overflowing with tears. It takes you several moments to regain yourself. It also takes you several moments to realize you’re no longer in camp, but further away, surrounded by trees.

“(M/n)? (M/n),” you’re lightly shaken.

Eyes still wide and brimming with tears of fear, you finally face Dutch, his name leaving your mouth, sounding like a kicked puppy.

He only looks at you with a tight face, but before he can say anything else, you slump against him, sobs racking your body. He sits back against a tree, pulling you between his open legs. He lets you bury your wet face into his chest, one hand stroking your back and the other buried in your hair.

You stay like that for several minutes, no words being exchanged.

After a long while, you stop crying. Your breath is still ragged, and you feel weak and tired, but you have enough strength to lift your head.

“I’m so sorry, Dutch, I-“

“No, son, don’t you be sorry,” he lets your head, being uncharacteristically gentle and kind. “Your reaction, with what you went through, was natural. I...apologize for Mr. Bell. I will speak to him.”

You sniff, pushing your face into the mans neck. He smelled of whiskey and cigars.

Dutch sighs. “I promise you, from now on, you’ll have a good life. Not always an easy one, but a better one.”

“Thank you, Dutch.”

“Of course, son.”

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posted 7-1-20

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#dutch van der linde #rdr2 x male reader #red dead redemption 2 x male reader #rdr2 dutch x male reader #dutch van der linde x male reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader #anon request

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crimsoncityhq · 4 years ago

Photo

While the night is far from quiet, what with all of the costumed patrons milling about the lobby and rubbing elbows on a too-crowded bench, it is peaceful. It’s been at least an hour of carefree mingling, and the only inconvenience anyone has found thus far is the guy dressed as H.H. Holmes being a little too method in his acting, stalking around amongst the crowd before disappearing the moment you see his blur in your periphery. Those who haven’t indulged in the open bar serving jello shots downstairs have likely opted to wait until after their tour through the undoubtedly haunted house, while others nurse their flasks and plead with whatever cosmic force they believe ( or don’t believe ) in that the line will shuffle a touch more quickly so they can black out for the night.

Fortunately for the impatient, a handful of groups are called to enter their respective rooms, though instead of enjoying the night with the ones who came here on their arms, they’re suited with a handful of strangers, acquaintances, and enemies. Now isn’t the time to brandish your weapons—let’s call it a truce for Halloween. Each group is assigned a specific room, and, satisfied with their groupings or not, they press forward. At first glance, no room looks any different than what you’d expect, maybe more void of furniture and spooky decor than ideal for the holiday which revolves around that sort of thing, but for once, it appears the night may go smoothly. Until the doors lock behind them.

Part II of the Halloween Murder Castle event has begun ! Your characters are assigned to a group, which then are assigned to rooms. It is up to you and your groupmates how they will survive the obstacles hindering the exit—but be warned; there’s an imposter in your midst. Someone in your group, who agreed to what they now realize is a test of their wit and strength, may opt to take the selfish way out and preserve their own life over the lives of their teammates. Imposters, determine whether you will prioritize yourself or your group to escape each room. Good luck !

This event will last until 9 PM EST on NOVEMBER 3RD, 2020. Under the cut are your group assignments, plus room assignments. PLEASE collaborate with your groupmates to determine how your characters will solve their rooms and make their escape. If you have any questions, always feel free to reach out ! Happy Halloween !

GROUPS

GROUP #1: Alejandra Ruiz, Beau Griveaud, Marie-Anne Beaulieu, and Wren Lucas are in ROOM 19. (BARBED)

GROUP #2: Nova Deveraux, Orion Andersen, Ivy Ivashkov, and Rahi Kumar are in ROOM 24. (CHALICE)

GROUP #3: Addison McKinnley,Veronica Pierce, Maite DeLeon, Blythe Sweetwine are in ROOM 7. (BANSHEE)

GROUP #4: Aries “Rhys” Rigsby, Cassidy Faust, Barnaby Eaton, Vitomir Kipriyanov are in ROOM 12. (DESCENT)

GROUP #5: Charlotte “Charlie” Arden, Marissa Atkinson, Levi Bohan, and Jean Jacque Baptiste De Romanet are in ROOM 20. (CLOSURE)

GROUP #6: Armande Ivashkov, Jessika Delmonico, and Josephine “Josie” Leon are in ROOM 30. (TUNDRA)

GROUP #7: Oakley Butler, Birdie Mendoza, Harlow Dumas, and Andrew “Drew”Whitemore are in ROOM 16. (ELEVATOR)

GROUP #8: Zoe Washington, Jesse Valencia, Logan Walsh, and Effie Faust in ROOM 4. (TUNDRA)

GROUP #9: Katarina Vasile, Saskia Vasile, Genevieve Basset, Callan Quinn in ROOM 14. (VOLTAGE)

GROUP #10: Taron Lynch, Rosalie Halliday, Tyson Kane, and Andrea “Andy” Perez are in ROOM 18. (MIRRORS)

GROUP #11: Sutton James, Juno Song, Oisin Donnelly, and Violet Madden are in ROOM 11. (CLOSURE)

GROUP #12: Billie Washington, Leo Vasile, Erin Cerci, and Milo Arrington are in ROOM 15. (BARBED)

GROUP #13: Liam Walsh, Audric Noire, Monika Adler, and Angelo Faust are in ROOM 10. (EXHALE)

GROUP #14: Braden Kahale, Gwen Arnolds, and Audrey Rousseau are in ROOM 5. (OVEN)

GROUP #15: Wyatt Leon, Ariela Leon, Fabian Drake Kalashnyk, and Milicent Washington are in ROOM 31. (KEY)

GROUP #16: Maisie Kane, Linus Arnolds, Sasha Ivanov, and Lev Vasile are in ROOM 17. (TAR)

GROUP #17: Lorelai Faust, Oliver Faust, Anastasia Sahin, and Glenda Ray are in ROOM 8. (FLASH )

GROUP #18: Konstantin Vasile, Fletcher Hargrave, Igor Vasile, and Cecilia Cavendish are in ROOM 23. (VOLTAGE)

GROUP #19: Abel Washington, Zane Washington, Holden Mercer, and Nadia James are in ROOM 25. (OCEAN)

GROUP #20: Autumn Dawson , Olivia Madden, and Auron Wright are in ROOM 21. (VIEW)

GROUP #21: Anatayla Vasile, Killian Walsh, Hana Faust, and Caoilainn “Callie” Walsh are in ROOM 2. (OCEAN)

GROUP #22: Atticus Mercer, Carrigan Connolly, Viktoriya Vasile, and Alejandro ‘Jano’ Solano are in ROOM 22. (HOURGLASS)

GROUP #23: Catriona O’Shea, Joey O’Shea, Lee Malkovich, and Lavrentii ‘Lav’ Vasile are in ROOM 3. (VIEW)

GROUP #24: Lincoln Dawson, Ira Evans, Rosalia Leon, and Amara Ricci are in ROOM 27. (EXHALE)

GROUP #25: Letitia ‘Tia’ Valentine, Teddy Cohen, Layla Jiminez, and Mikhail Morosov are in ROOM 1. (PIT)

GROUP #26: Noah Etkin, Blair Faust, Stefano Vittori, and Mathias Attano are in ROOM 6. (HOURGLASS)

GROUP #27: Callum James, Faith Williams, and Dominika Romanov are in ROOM 26. (MIRRORS)

GROUP #28: Jackson Martson, Anton Volkov, Lada Antonovna, and Arlo Flores are in ROOM 29. (TAR)

GROUP #29: Diamond Washington, Darren Murphy, Zedekiah “Zed” Vasile, and Esmeray Demir are in ROOM 9. (CHALICE)

GROUP #30: David Sharpe and Edith Cohen are in ROOM 28. (BANSHEE)

GROUP #31: Caroline Shepherd, Nicholas Krieger, Christine Lin, and Constansia Fournier are in ROOM 13. (KEY)

ROOMS

ROOM 1 — THE PIT

SUMMARY: You and your fellow group members enter the room, and it seems relatively normal, if not a touch boring. The walls are a sleek chrome with a matching floor and ceiling, and the only thing that stands out is an ornate door opposite from—and identical to—the one you entered through. You try it, but it doesn’t open, and the door you just came through suddenly decides not to open either. Then, you feel the tremble, and the center of the floor begins to open up into an abyss lined with jagged glass, and metal, and everything else that screams tetanus. In the center of the new floor is a pedestal, and atop the pedestal is a key—surely the way out. CHALLENGE: You and your teammates must find a way to retrieve the key before the floor fully gives way and engulfs all of you. How you do this is up to your own discretion, but you’d better count on some injuries.

ROOM 2 — THE OCEAN

SUMMARY: You and your fellow group members enter the room, which is devoid of any furniture, and, well, much of anything, really, besides what looks like a hatch on the ceiling. Oddly enough, the walls look like glass—or some version of it—though they’re not as breakable as they seem when you rap your knuckles against them. For the first minute or so, you’re confused, but then a pipe creaks somewhere overhead, and water bubbles up from under your feet. You all realize it at once—the room is filling up fast, and the door you entered through is deadbolted. You’re trapped in here. CHALLENGE: Find a way out of the room before the water reaches the ceiling. You’ll only have about twenty-five minutes to determine which part of what wall is breakable enough to escape through. Alternatively, you can test your swimming skills—and gamble with what’s left of your oxygen—to get the hatch on the ceiling open. It will take all of you, so no matter your allegiance, it’s imperative you work together.

ROOM 3 — THE VIEW

SUMMARY: This room is not what it appears—it’s decorated floor-to-ceiling like the streets of France, complete with a gaudy painting of the Eiffel Tower, street lamps and mannequins in period clothing. It’s beautiful, and a far cry from scary—that is, until you start to lose your breath standing in place. At first you wonder what’s wrong with you, until you realize your partner’s breath is becoming ragged and wheezy, too. It strikes you a second too late; the oxygen is being removed from this room little by little, and suddenly the breathtaking view makes sense. ( What a horrible pun, eh ? ) You’ll suffocate if you stay in here any longer, so it’s up to you and the rest of your teammates to find the exit. CHALLENGE: The door you entered through is locked, so weave your way through the “street” to find the other exit. You should know it’s locked, too, so you’ll have to work together to find the key. It could be in a flower pot, it could be inside the skull of a mannequin—but if you don’t find it, this cheap version of Paris is the last thing you’ll ever see.

ROOM 4 — THE TUNDRA

SUMMARY: The moment you cross the threshold of this room, you feel the drop in temperature, and the door falls shut behind you. The moment you turn for it, you realize it’s jammed, and your only choice is to get comfortable. You look around, your eyes wandering across the painting hung ceiling-to-floor on the walls and wonder how many of them are watching you back. For the minute or so you stand in place, you feel the temperature get somehow lower. Those around you seem to notice the same thing, and the epiphany strikes at once—someone is freezing you into the room. CHALLENGE: There is a locked door on the opposite wall that is surely your exit. Collaborate with your teammates to find the key inside the paintings before the room freezes over. You only have fifteen or so minutes to leave the room.

ROOM 5 — THE OVEN

SUMMARY: The room you enter with your teammates is an obnoxious white, and the lights seem a little too bright for anyone’s liking. It’s also warm enough to have anyone shedding an extra layer, and the longer you explore the room the hotter it becomes, as if you’re baking alive. The realization hits you all at the same time, but the exit at the end of the room won’t budge. A voice over the speaker above you—was that there before ?—urges you to sacrifice one member to the room. CHALLENGE: You must decide who will stay behind so the others can escape. If you choose the correct imposter, you may leave the room, thus sacrificing the imposter to the room.

ROOM 6 — THE HOURGLASS

SUMMARY: This room looks relatively average at first—you toddle in a couple of steps, and it doesn’t seem particularly out of the ordinary, save for the junk pile stationed in the corner of the room. You think it might be a prop closet, but when you feel the first trickle of—is that sand ?—sweep over you, there’s suddenly a weight in your gut. The room is filling up with it, and in the center of the junk pile sits an hourglass that dwindles down in sync. You’ll be buried in the next twenty minutes if you don’t find a way to escape. CHALLENGE: You turn to the door you just entered through and realize there’s a keypad you may use to unlock it from the inside. Now all you have to do is find the four-digit code ( and the order in which to input it ) separately hidden in the junk pile to escape. Just don’t take too long.

ROOM 7 — THE BANSHEE

SUMMARY: Nothing seems out of the ordinary in this room, save for the padded walls and the giant, creepy painting of the man of the hour—H.H. Holmes—on the opposite side of the entrance. You get a brief look at the room, the four buttons on the floor, the fine china lining the shelves on the walls, before the room goes dark. The floor trembles beneath your feet, and sure, it’s a little campy with the filtered-in gunfire, but then the sounds get louder, and louder, and louder. You can hardly listen to it without physically wincing, and there’s no doubt the looming possibility of hearing damage, not to mention loss. You can practically feel your eardrums beginning to drip—you have to get out of here. CHALLENGE: You have to escape the room to avoid causing irreparable damage by searching with your teammates in the dark for the buttons you saw earlier. Find all four buttons, then press them simultaneously to pop open the painting, which doubles as an exit. If you don’t get out, someone will get you out, but they’ll be far less welcoming than a few loud noises.

ROOM 8 — THE FLASH

SUMMARY: In this room, all of the empty walls are a stark white, almost hard to look at when you first enter. The lights above your head are bright enough to radiate heat, and you can already see colors swirling in your vision. The floor pulses in a pattern, lighting up red like a guide to the exit on the other side of the room. Before you take the first step, the lights flash brighter, so much so the whole room melts into a blur in front of your eyes. You take a moment to get your bearings, then blink away the moisture spawning at your lash line. When you open your eyes again, the room is back to normal, but the pattern on the floor has changed. CHALLENGE: You and your teammates must navigate the floor tiles before the room resets. If you simply approach the door, it will remain locked, and the puzzle will simply reset. The longer you’re in this room and exposing yourself to the flashes, the more likely you are to leave with permanent damage to your retinas. Also, you’d better work quickly, because that ticking sound underneath your shoes probably isn’t a good sign.

ROOM 9 — THE CHALICE

SUMMARY: This room, compared to its predecessors, is pretty tame—the four walls are a dark velvet with a golden table in the center. On the table are a set of four chalices, each more ornate than the last. The voice that plays on a loop overhead establishes the rules; choose who will drink from which chalice, but be warned: three of them are poisoned, and only one holds an antidote. Determine who will be sacrificed to which chalice. To escape this room, everyone must take a drink. CHALLENGE: There’s no way around it—no one is leaving this room until each chalice is sampled. Each member will have to sample their assigned chalice, and only time will tell who has the antidote. There is a possibility of exiting the room alive if the one left standing can evenly portion the antidote.

ROOM 10 — THE EXHALE

SUMMARY: As you enter the room, you instantly recognize the theme of charred remains, with a splintered set of dining chairs and the matching table, peeling wallpaper, and singed curtains decorating the walls that wrap around you. It even smells like smoke in here, and the longer you wander around the still smoking debris, the more saturated the atmosphere becomes. Soon, you and the other occupants of the room begin to cough, and you realize it’s not your imagination that’s making the air thicker—it’s the vent leaking a grey cloud into the room. CHALLENGE: The door at the far end of the room must be opened with a code, and you must find the code scattered among the debris. You’ll find four numbers in total stamped on various items—input the numbers in the correct order to escape the room.

ROOM 11 — THE CLOSURE

SUMMARY: You and your group step through the door into a room bare of anything as far as the eyes can see. After everyone is inside the door locks behind you and the small bits of confetti fall from the ceiling as a warm distraction. You missed the different patterns on the ground of your feet. CHALLENGE: The walls start to close in on your and the group. You notice the door in the opposite direction get crushed as the walls inch closer. You must solve the puzzle to get out of the room before the walls make you a Chicago style pancake.

ROOM 12 — THE DESCENT

SUMMARY: Everything about this room when you and your group enters seems mundane. An old fashioned study is stocked with bookcases against both walls. An old fashioned globe with a mini bar inside of it lays in the center.The door locks behind you, but then you take a glance to the ceiling and notice the sinister sleek metal inching towards you. CHALLENGE: The ceiling in the room starts to lower. You must locate the key to get out of the room in time to not be flattened.

ROOM 13 — THE KEY

SUMMARY: You and your group enter a moderately furnished room. Some small chairs, a small children’s desk, among other mundane objects like pencils and pens. A few books that are on the desk. In the center of the room is where your vision is drawn to a circular crater that holds an overabundance of keys. With a glance you can wager that the key to open the door across from you is within this pit. CHALLENGE: A ticking above your heads alarms you to the fact that there are wired explosives ahead that are counting down. You must locate the correct key among dozens of faux ones. However, if you take too long the explosives will go off.

ROOM 14 — THE VOLTAGE

SUMMARY: Once you enter the room a soft breeze touches your face. You and your group take notice after the door locks behind you that the room is covered with different paintings of a cloudy sky. Lightning bolts painted on several places in the room scattered from wall to wall. Up above on the ceiling are shapes that seem to have formed grey clouds. All you’re missing is a nice cup of warm drink and a chair to leisure in. CHALLENGE: At first you feel it, and you hear the zap. Small bits of electricity shoot up your leg, and then it grows worse and worse. As if someone has turned on the electric chair for everyone in the room. You must locate the key to get out of the other door.

ROOM 15 — THE BARBED WIRE

SUMMARY: You and your group enter a room that you would have thought was created in a horror movie flick. From the ceiling to barely above the ground are barbed wire. The door is on the other side that will grant you the way out. That is if the barbed obstacle doesn’t grapple any of you first. CHALLENGE: You will need to get to the other side of the room through the barbed wires. Then you will be able to exit out the door, but you might want to be mindful not to become a mangled livestock on the conquest to escape.

ROOM 16 — THE ELEVATOR

SUMMARY: You and your group enter what you think is a normal room. However, once the regular door closes it locks. The room itself moves, and you’re presented with an elevator door in front of you. The keypad shows the different levels of the castle to the right, and there’s even a counter on the floors above the locked elevator door in front of everyone. THE CHALLENGE: The room goes between dropping at an alarming rate to rising upwards quickly. There’s no end in sight no matter what buttons you press on it. The elevator doesn’t stop on any floors. The group will need to figure out a way to disable the power inside the elevator and escape out the ceiling of it. But be careful it’s a finicky machine.

ROOM 17 — THE TAR

SUMMARY: The darkness captures you and your fellow group members at first. There is a light switch in this room that buzzes a dim cheap light onto the ground. Once everyone shuffles in you notice that the ground you step on is black, thick, and sticky. Black tar coats the ground of the room, and you notice it on the mediocre furniture that adorns it. A makeshift map with pins and faces of H.H. Holmes’s alleged victims are strawn out. You can take a breather or two, but then. THE CHALLENGE: The mechanic clink is heard around the room as panel boards slide apart. Through these panels projectiles are aimed into the room. Arrows & darts fly towards the group. Normally these would be easy to dodge, but you are stuck in place. You must work to get to the exit door on the other side of the room.

ROOM 18 — THE MIRRORS

SUMMARY: You and your fellow group members enter the room, the room is empty of furniture. Visibly on the roof are cogs and attached to them are large thick mirrors. The end isn’t in sight for anyone to see, and the only thing that looks back at you is your multiple reflections. The walls are lost and you swear they’re mirrors themselves. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. Are these two-way mirrors? CHALLENGE: The mirrors move with each step in a manner as if to smash or crush the opponent. The movements of them are precise and you can almost feel yourself being enclosed into a box of mirrors that gets smaller. The objective is to make it out of the reflective maze in one piece.

ROOM 19 — THE BARBED WIRE

ROOM 20 — THE CLOSURE

ROOM 21 — THE VIEW

SUMMARY: This room is not what it appears—it’s decorated floor-to-ceiling like the streets of France, complete with a gaudy painting of the Eiffel Tower, streetlamps and mannequins in period clothing. It’s beautiful, and a far cry from scary—that is, until you start to lose your breath standing in place. At first you wonder what’s wrong with you, until you realize your partner’s breath is becoming ragged and wheezy, too. It strikes you a second too late; the oxygen is being removed from this room little by little, and suddenly the breathtaking view makes sense. ( What a horrible pun, eh ? ) You’ll suffocate if you stay in here any longer, so it’s up to you and the rest of your teammates to find the exit. CHALLENGE: The door you entered through is locked, so weave your way through the “street” to find the other exit. You should know it’s locked, too, so you’ll have to work together to find the key. It could be in a flower pot, it could be inside the skull of a mannequin—but if you don’t find it, this cheap version of Paris is the last thing you’ll ever see.

ROOM 22 — THE HOURGLASS

ROOM 23 — THE VOLTAGE

ROOM 24 — THE CHALICE

ROOM 25 — THE OCEAN

ROOM 26 — THE MIRRORS

ROOM 27 — THE EXHALE

ROOM 28 — THE BANSHEE

ROOM 29 — THE TAR

ROOM 30 — THE TUNDRA

ROOM 31 — THE KEY

#crimson.event #oc rp #appless rp #crime rp #gang rp #mature rp #drowning tw #burning tw #violence tw #gore tw #death tw #body horror tw

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ohmrbell · 4 years ago

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Finding Peace (Micah Bell x reader) Chapter 3

WARNING NSFW! Smut exists in this chapter I’m sorry don’t even know how I came up with this XD

Also Micah will be in the next chapter just needed to get some back story in here!

The next morning at Colter moved at a snails pace, the freezing air and harsh terrain left spirits low in camp and with most of the group away taking on the O’Driscoll’s an eerie silence had fallen over the area, with all that could be heard was the gentle swaying of the evergreen trees and heavy creaks of the wooden structures. I was put on guard duty with Karen and Uncle each of us posted at a different entrance to the abandoned shacks. It had been a few hours now since the boys left and their arrival should be soon. Suddenly I heard the heavy hoofs of horses bounding towards me, snapping my head to the left I was able to see Dutch up front riding in with the rest of the boys thanks to the weather being much clearer today. They all began to hitch their horses and dismount gathering all their belongings they took with them, Dutch approached me looking rather pleased placing a firm grip onto my shoulder, “My dear, I have once again found a way to save us all, handed to us by our very own enemy, we won’t be in these mountains much longer, I have a plan” he trailed off his voice dropping to a deep growl. As long as I have been with the gang I will never get used to the random outbursts Dutch provides doused in pure dominance and confidence. I’m caught off guard by a certain phrase he spoke to me and simply mumble, “sounds good boss”. He gives me a wink and walks past greeting everyone who had gathered in a small group behind me. Miss O’Shea is baring into my soul with a sharp emerald glare clearly bothered by her lovers actions to me. Not that I am interested in being with Dutch, not again anyway...

Once a few years back when the gang was much smaller I was around 20 years old at the time, everyone in the gang seemed to be all loved up, John and Abigail, Arthur and Mary, Hosea and Bessie, hell even Tilly had been flirting with a smart young man in town and miss Grimshaw was getting action! It was hard for someone like me, I had a hard time learning to trust everyone and relax. I had to learn to be an adult and survive long ago. I never had the chance to even feel love for anyone, never kissed someone I had a crush on, never danced with a man, never slept with someone who cared.

That night at camp I was sitting down through the shrubs in a small clearing that had a large boulder in the centre that was great to hide behind. It was a tiring day and I was drained mentally and physically, I cried hard that night wishing things would be a different way, that I wouldn’t be so alone. Then came Dutch, walked straight past me and didn’t even know I was there, he leaned on a tree ahead of me and let out a defeated sigh, dropping down to a crouch he removed his hat and started running his fingers through his black mane his slicked back hair became loose and small curls began to fall softly around his face. He let out a shaky sigh which caught in his throat and I saw a single tear slide down his hollowed face shining in the moonlight. As soon as I saw it I felt a pang inside of me of sadness at the man in front of me. He is as I’ve never seen him, completely vulnerable when normally he holds himself high with pride, a man of power and respect who never appears as weak. My own sorrow and yearning to be held took over “Dutch” I whispered softly his head shot towards me in a second but he didn’t move. he stared into my own tear filled Y/E/C eyes as two more slid down his face.

What happened next occurred so fast I didn’t even think about it, he was pulling off my red checkered shirt while I started unbuttoning his silk vest struggling with his various items of golden jewellery that were entwined in the black fabric. Once I was free of my shirt he began to rip off his own while I hastily unbuttoned my stiff trousers. In a matter of seconds I was bare in front of my leader him only remaining in his slacks and boots. We exchanged no words as he hungrily devoured my neck sucking and biting all over until finding the spot that made me sing. He bit harder on my skin causing me to let out a scream, I grabbed onto his throbbing member and gave it a few pumps smearing his precum around his pink tip, he stopped biting and raised up to meet my face. his His own eyes had become dark with lust but when he looked at me he become gentler almost. He rubbed his large thumb over the tender wound he left on my neck causing me to whimper. I moaned his name as he pushed inside of me, the pleasure that had become foreign to me returning with full force. He let out a deep grunt then started going faster each thrust reaching further each time. My body was completly submissive to him yet he was still soft with me kissing down my body and my face, but he kept his grip on my waist strong. I could feel my high building fast and couldn’t stop moaning all sorts of profanities, I felt myself begin to clench around him “I-I’m gonna cum D-Dutch”

“Let me hear you, my dear” he purred into my ear causing me to go over the edge. I spasmed beneath him, milking his cock causing him to growl as he shoved himself in deeper holding himself to me as he came elongating my high. We both moaned for each other during our release. After a few moments he pulled out and sat next to me, pulled up his pants and pulled me into his side.

He covered me in his white shirt and kissed the mess of Y/ H/C hair on my head. Still we didn’t speak just panting and regaining our breath and taking into consideration what had just happened. I don’t love Dutch, I don’t want to be with Dutch I just needed him in the moment. “Thank you, my dear” he spoke “thank you” I replied back. He gave my side a squeeze “I don’t want you to believe that I am regretful Y/N but what happens after this “ he gestured in between us “it don’t have to be nothin’ Dutch, we just needed each other that’s all” he smiled and just sighed. It seems stupid but that is really all the happened we didn’t speak anymore about the matter both of us didn’t want that. We were just there at the right time, it could have been anyone. We stayed there for a while longer before eventually going back to the camp. We said our good nights and it never happened again. No one knew except Arthur because well apparently he heard us. He swore to me he wouldn’t tell anyone and I left it at that. Man’s so goddamn nosy sometimes. Of course by the end of the week everyone knew, they whispered sure but it was soon silenced when Dutch caught wind of it. And since it’s Dutch people actually shut their damn mouths, for once. Yet to this day Dutch occasionally will call me the name he did when we were intimate, “my dear” and he always says it in the same tone. I know he’s just being Dutch and is trying to be playful by pushing my buttons but I don’t want people to start thinking a certain thing, especially since there’s someone else I feel some type of way for...

#findingpeace #micah bell #rdr2 #red dead redemption #red dead #dutch van der linde #micah bell x reader

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demi-shoggoth · 4 years ago

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COVID-19 Reading Log, pt. 6

My quarantine reading has slowed down a bit; a combination of some long books, reduced motivation and the general ennui of being socially isolated for 10 weeks (!).

31. Unnatural Selection by Katrina van Grouw. I’d been waiting patiently for my library to get a copy of this gorgeous book. None of them have, and when the university library obtained it digital only (which I, as a layman, can’t access), I gave up and ended up buying it used. I’m glad I did. The subject is selective breeding of animals, particularly dogs and birds, and how it demonstrates evolution and genetics. The writing is fluent and I learned some things, but the real attractions are the illustrations by the author. Skeletals, muscular diagrams and life reconstructions of various domestic animals are present on nearly every page. Highly recommended for people interested in evolutionary biology and domestic animals.

32. Venomous Snakes of the World by Mark O’Shea. This book isn’t quite a field guide. Rather than covering all species of venomous snakes, it is an overview of notable members of each clade on each continent. The photography is gorgeous, and most of the snakes covered are photographed. The biggest attraction of the book are the author’s asides. He’s a professional snake biologist with 30+ years of experience when he wrote it, and his tales of where and how he’s collected some of these snakes, his interactions with people interacting with the snakes and (of course) which ones he’s been bitten by are the most engaging reading of the book.

33. Analog Nightmares by Richard Hogg. This tribute to shot on video horror films is an impressive feat of research and interviewing, but I found it overall tedious. Call it an enthusiasm gap, perhaps. Although I do have an interest in low/no budget filmmaking and exploitation cinema in general, I don’t have much desire to read a 17 page interview with the guy who made Blood Lake. The book is divided roughly evenly into film reviews and interview segments. The reviews in general are not very detailed, and don’t do a great job at selling the movies in question—there’s only so many times I can read, “this movie’s filled with blood and boobs!” before I grow listless. The last chapter is recommendations from some of the figures interviewed throughout the book, and they are much more engaging than the bulk of the book’s text. I might use this book as a reference for “hey, what weird-ass movie should I try tracking down now?”, but I’m never going to sit down and read it cover-to-cover again.

34. Prehistoric Monster Mash by Allen A. Debus. This is not the first Debus joint I’ve read, nor is it likely to be the last. Allen Debus is a chemical engineer by day and dinosaur and monster fan by night, and is a major contributor to zines like Prehistoric Times and G-Fan. This is a collection of more than forty of his essays, ranging in topics from the use of paleontologists to deliver exposition in monster movies to capsule reviews of traveling museum exhibits to deconstructions of fringe theories about the Earth repeatedly changing size. There’s stuff in here for both fans of hard science paleontology and pop-culture dino-monsters alike. However, the book is very long (533 pages), and my attention lapsed a few times while reading it. I probably would have enjoyed reading it more as it was written, a few chapters at a time scattered among other books. But that’s more my fault than anything.

35. Strange Harvests by Edward Posnett. The focus of the book is the author traveling around the world collecting stories of goods obtained from wild organisms. The list is eiderdown, edible bird’s nests, civet coffee, sea silk, vicuna wool, tagua nut (a.k.a. vegetable ivory) and guano. The book also serves as a memoir of the author’s growing disillusionment with capitalism, and an attempt to find hope for keeping the natural world alive through management. Weirdly, I don’t want to say much more for fear of spoilers—although this is non-fiction, there are some surprising twists and turns along the way. Melancholy and highly recommended.

#books #reading log #covid 19 #gore tw #book rec

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awesomejustgotawesome · 4 years ago

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So I wrote out a lot of my thoughts on Godzilla vs. Kong and it ended up quite long, so it’s under this keep reading thing. The summary is I liked it but there’s a few things including one major storyline I really, really, really, really, really didn’t like hahah. (spoilers for the whole film of course)

So while I enjoyed it, I think Godzilla vs. Kong was easily the weakest of the 4 MonsterVerse films. Rewatching the first 3 yet again yesterday, I just love how each one has it’s own awesome style that’s unique to the series, especially Godzilla & Kong: Skull Island. It’s just so good. And while GvsK had the same MonsterVerse vibe all the films have, it didn’t reallly have any style like the others. The action was great, some cool shots/moments, and it was quite colorful at times. But there was just a lack of something the others had. A big something.

On top of that, I do think it was also the weakest of the 4 in terms of story/characters. Again I still enjoyed it, but the biggest problem that really brought this film down so much lower than the previous ones was the fact that Madison, Josh and Bernie’s entire storyline was pointless. They did NOTHING the entire film. They were just there to discover Mechagodzilla, which they really didn’t need to be. It was quick to show us Bernie had no knowledge and was probably not going to do anything, and as the film kept having all three of them not be doing anything it just became infuriating. What they did at the end again could have been done by absolutely anyone. Josh says “if I can guess the password” and then constantly talks about how unbelievably incompetent he is, yet Madison or Bernie don’t leave the fucking room and get anyone, anyone at all, who works there to help. I don’t remember them showing the door behind them being blocked or anything. And it’s not like the employees are evil henchmen, heck the main guy would have helped to stop it once he saw it was not under their control and killing innocent people. But no, just let Josh guess a password and then pour a drink on it, like what the fuck was that.

Millie & Kyle’s characters 1000% should not have returned for this movie. I think if they did a film exploring the Hollow Earth a few years from now, that would have been perfect to bring Millie back when she’s older and can be working for Monarch on her own or something.

Speaking of Monarch, despite four characters who work for them being in the film it feels like Monarch wasn’t really there unlike the previous Godzilla movies. Like Lance Reddick was apparently a Monarch director but, if I remember, the film doesn’t tell us that and he has no role at all. Like why waste a good actor like that. Also Serizawa’s son is in this but it’s barely talked about, they could have been unrelated characters and it’s baffling they weren’t.

The storyline with Madison, Josh & Bernie 100% should have been replaced with one featuring Monarch and Military personal. Not sure why Bradley Whitford, Zhang Ziyi, Joe Morton, Aisha Hinds, O’Shea Jackson Jr, and David Strathairn weren’t in this film reprising their roles. All those characters were great. Also I think Aaron Taylor-Johnson’s character would have been perfect for a return here. Heck I still would have loved aged up versions of Brie and Tom. The post-credits scene of that film hinted they’d be more important but than I guess they did nothing.

This storyline should have been a bit more on par with something from the 1st film, or at least the 2nd, not three characters (two just for comedic reasons) doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. The other storyline with the new characters was fine, and great, like previous films. Those characters had purpose, and did SO MUCH. Nothing wrong there, but the fact this other storyline (not including the new bad guy with Mechagodzilla) added nothing really brings the film down. Again though, Millie appearing older working for Monarch in a future Hollow Earth film could have been a great return for the character. Not this though.

Then there’s the two main stars, Kong and Godzilla. Everything with Kong I loved, they nailed all that. Godzilla not so much, I feel like him fighting Kong just never felt justified. Like the previous films I could tell what Godzilla was thinking, but this just seemed to be done for no reason. Like Kong takes one foot off Skull Island and Godzilla beats the guy up? I know the film explains this rivalry legend between them but it still doesn’t work well, unlike Ghidorah who was actively trying to take over from Godzilla. Kong was just taking a trip. Kind of made Godzilla to feel like a bit of an asshole in my opinion. Like he’s so insecure another King is there he has to fight him? Kong didn’t show any sign whatsoever of wanting Godzilla’s title of KotM the way Ghidorah did.

So yeah overall I liked it, but it was the weakest one. And it is disappointing considering how easy it could have been better. Just replace a completely pointless storyline with one that matters and adds something besides comedic characters. Not the best ending to the series, but an okay entry. Really hope they make more though.

#matt babbles #monsterverse #godzilla #king kong #godzilla vs kong #ah this felt good to write

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caspers-arthur-morgan-imagines · 5 years ago

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One of a Kind

This is a requested one shot from @rexburn12 I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted! I loved writing this little piece and hope you all enjoy it!

Summary:

Someone has been hunting down KKK members and other gangs. The van der linde gang grow worried they’ll run into this threat soon. Whilst out around the area of Rhodes, Dutch and Arthur encounter the creature responsible.

Word count: 2155

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The saloon was bustling with life. A man sat at the piano playing upbeat tunes that merry, drunken men sang along to. The bartender kept busy with serving the crowd in the building. Working ladies appeasing to some of the lonely gentlemen in the bar and disappearing with them up the stairs. Arthur and Dutch sat among the merry men and women. Both enjoying a drink and a laugh at the fools around them.

“I tell you son, these in-bred lot are something else.” Dutch chuckles before downing his glass of whiskey. Arthur chuckles in response and finishes his drink too.

The pair stand to leave the saloon, calling it a night to head back to camp. Neither man noticing the gaze that followed them as they left. A swig from the bottle and then its slammed back to the table as the figure stands and leaves the saloon out the back.

“Can’t wait to hear the nagging Miss O’Shea is going to give me this time.” Dutch grunts as he mounts onto the Count. Arthur chuckles as he mounts Walker, tapping his neck before they began the ride home.

“I’m sure half the camp is wondering that one, Dutch.” Arthur grins. Earning a side glare from the older gentleman.

They’re ride was smooth and quiet. The night sky full of stars and the full moon. All acting as their light on the road, leading them back home. With all the worries and stresses that had been going around the camp, the pair had enjoyed one evening drinking.

“Hey! Stop right there!” From the treeline appears four men in dirtied uniform. The stink alone from them made Arthur and Dutch pull their horses to a halt to avoid getting closer to them. The four men pointed their guns at the pair as they created a circle around them. Lemoyne Raiders.

“Now gentlemen, I’m sure we can make an agreement here.” Dutch begins. Raising a hand up to try and calm the situation. Arthur kept a keen eye on the two men beside him and in front of him. They were outnumbered by two and would have to think of something quick to get out of this.

“Which one of you have been killing our men?!” The man who spoke before shouted. His gun switching between Arthur and Dutch. The two men give one another a look of confusion. So there was something else hunting down gangs. But it certainly wasn’t them.

“Gentlemen there seems to a case of mistaken identity here.” Dutch chuckles as he looks at the man who spoke. “We are simply two friends enjoying the country-“

“Boss! Something is moving back here!” The man behind Dutch hollers as he turned to the treeline. A wave of panic seems to pass through the four men that surrounded Arthur and Dutch. Their horses were spooked by whatever the man claimed to be between the trees. Arthur patted Walked on the neck, trying to calm him down before he was bucked off.

“It’s the beast!” The man yells from behind Dutch. It is followed by a scream as a black figure dragged him into the shadows. This time Walker does buck Arthur off his back. Causing the man to crash to the mud with a grunt.

The remaining three men were firing round after round into the trees. Trying to save their friend from whatever had him in its clutches. When they stopped to reload, it was silent. Dutch had dropped from the Count to help Arthur to his feet.

A growl tore through the air. All three men tensing and freezing in their place. Arthur and Dutch turned to look at the tree line.

There within the branches were two molten eyes. Burning into the three men that were now scared shitless. Another growl – or was it a roar – came from the creature. The three remaining Raiders started running. Dutch and Arthur still frozen in their place as the beast emerged from the shadows.

The colossal beast was stood on its hind legs. Black fur covered its frame, some standing on end along it’s back and arms. Three thick lines ran down its face, crossing from the right side, over its nose and to its mouth. The mouth parted, baring its teeth in a snarl. It leant down onto all fours, growling in warning as Dutch reached for his revolver. He quickly raised his hands in surrender. The beast turned its head in the direction the Raiders had darted away. A small huff of a satisfaction came from it before turning its eyes back to the two men in front of it.

The beast howled. Tilting its head towards the sky and arching its body. Arthur and Dutch stumbled backwards from the shock it sent through them. Then when the howl started to die down, their eyes widened as the beast before them began to slowly shift. Like smoke had surrounded the beast, entangling itself around its frame and shifting its bones into a new alignment. The creature shrunk half a foot in size, still towering over the two men. Its claws retracted to hands; its snort pulled back into a human face. The black fur reseeded itself behind the flesh of the man. Until it all stopped and before Arthur and Dutch stood a man.

The man stood bare before them. If they hadn’t have just seen this man change from a beast to man before their very eyes, they would’ve averted their eyes from his naked form.

“Relax. I can smell the fear dripping from you.” The man gave a deep chuckle. He slowly retreated to the trees, bending down to pick up trousers from the ground.

“The name’s Miller.” The man introduces himself as he steps into the trousers. “Logan Miller.” He gives a pleasant smile to the two dumb struck men. Dutch is the first to come out of their confused haze, trying to get a grip on what he had saw.

“Dutch van der linde.” He speaks, still keeping a close eye on Logan. “Mind giving an explanation, son?” Logan laughs at his words as he pulls a brown shirt over his shoulders.

“Gladly. Just don’t call me son again.” Logan chuckles and buttons up his shirt. Arthur was now coming out of his haze as well. He stood on the defensive, knowing he still probably couldn’t take on the man.

“Ever hear stories as child about the men who howl at the moon?” Logan asks as he slips on his boots. Dutch and Arthur look at one another again.

“Literature. Fiction.” Dutch responds.

“But very much real.” Logan sighs as he walks closer to the men. Logan was taller than Dutch and Arthur. The scars that lined his face were prominent and jiggered. His dark hair hung over his forehead and his sapphires were warm and welcoming. A complete contrast to the seven foot monster he just was.

“You the one that been hunting and killing folk?” Arthur speaks up. His voice wavered but didn’t crack with the unsettling fear that pooled in his stomach. Logan’s smile disappears and a frown takes its place.

“Only those who killed my kind. Or those who seem to think its okay with hurting innocent people.” He explains and crosses his arms over his broad chest.

“There’s more of you then?” Dutch inquires with a raised eyebrow. Logan shakes his head and a sadness washes over his features as he looks to the moon.

“I’m the last of my kind.” He mutters then looks back to Arthur and Dutch. “My pack was wiped out years ago by hunters. I haven’t come across any of my kind since.”

The air was solemn then. Arthur and Dutch at a lost for words whilst Logan watched their reactions.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Dutch nods his condolences with his words. Logan smiles and then his attention is drawn to the approaching woman on a horse behind the two men. Dutch and Arthur turn to see Sadie riding up to them with a rifle at the ready.

“You men okay? Heard the gunshots from camp.” Sadie says as she comes to a halt.

“Perfectly well, Miss Adler.” Dutch assures her and then gestures to the man beside him. “This young man saved our lives.”

Logan had been fixated on Sadie as soon as he saw her coming. A heavy feeling in his chest and a gravity pulling him towards her. Sadie climbed down from her horse and closed the distance to join by Arthur’s side.

“Logan?” Arthur and Dutch both snap their heads towards Sadie as she recognises the man before her.

“Miss Adler.” Logan smiles down at the woman. Arthur and Dutch share a look of confusion once again.

“Wait a damned minute.” Arthur speaks up. “You know each other?” He points between Sadie and Logan – who had suddenly become a bashful idiot under the gaze of the woman.

“Yeah. He saved my life when I was a kid.” Sadie replies and smiles fondly at the memory of the wolf that had saved her from a gang that terrorised her family. Logan seems to remember too as he looks down at his boots and scratches the back of his neck. “What are you going out this way? Thought you preferred the grizzles?”

“Followed a familiar scent out this way.” Logan replies and then points to the two dumbstruck men. “Led me to these two. I was quite disheartened when it wasn’t you.”

“Son,” Dutch clears his throat when Logan turns his attention to him. “If I might be so forward, would you care to join us back to camp? Maybe you and Miss Adler can make up for lost time.” Logan smiles at the offer and looks back at Sadie.

“Happily.” He replies and follows them to their horses.

***

It was easy say that Logan didn’t leave the gang after that night. Having found a pack that he could protect again made him feel whole once more. No longer lonely with the fact he was the last of his kind.

The camp was also very welcoming to him. A few of the women – Karen and Mary-Beth – swooned over him.

“Who wouldn’t swoon over that beast of a man.” Karen had said one morning whilst sat with the other ladies mending clothes. Watching a shirtless Logan chopping wood as though he was slicing butter.

Sadie and Logan were very much attached at the hip. Logan following her anywhere that she would go. A lost puppy following its new owner, as Arthur had put it.

The camp were especially pleased when Logan had revealed that Micah had ratted them out to the Pinkertons. Logan never liked Micah from the moment he stepped foot into the camp. Something had seemed off about how he was sulk about and then disappear. Logan followed him one night and saw him with Milton and Ross and was immediately enraged. He spoke with Dutch and it led to the man putting a bullet through Micah’s skull.

They all celebrated that night.

Logan was also the first to notice Arthur’s illness and offered to change him. He gave Arthur time to think it over and in the end, he accepted. It took some time for him to adjust to the changes that he was going through, but with Logan’s help he got through it.

It wasn’t long after joining camp that Logan and Sadie shared their first kiss. The attraction between them was almost suffocating and when they finally acted on it, it was heaven. Sadie also asked to changed. This took Logan sometime to consider, but he finally did, and they were soon mated.

The camp had become family to Logan. They were willing to become wolves after seeing Arthur and Sadie go through it. Logan was the alpha, with Hosea, Dutch and Arthur as his Betas. He finally had a pack again.

Years down the line, the Pinkertons had given up their search for the van der linde gang. They were freed from the previous life they knew. Some chose to become ranchers, like John, Abigail and Jack. Arthur would stay with them and his mate, Freya. Who he had saved from some gang out in the grizzles one winter. Some wanted families of their own and would go looking for their mate. Logan remembered when Tilly came back with a man that she was head over heels for and when the man wasn’t scared of what they were, Logan knew that he would change him for Tilly.

Sadie had given birth to twin boys, Noah and Henry. They were adventurous and brave like their father but compassionate and loving like their mother.

Logan was happy that he had followed Sadie’s scent that day years ago. He had finally gotten the family that he had always longed for. Things were finally okay again for the lone Alpha.

#Red Dead Redemption #Red Dead #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 imagine #red dead remdemption #arthur morgan #dutch van der line #van der linde gang #hosea matthews #john marston #abigail roberts #male original character #werewolf #sadie adler

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flamehairedwritings · 4 years ago

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Five

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

The Knock on the Cage

The next morning, restless from a sleepless night of turning over Micah’s words in her mind and her irritation at Arthur, Ada offered to take Karen’s morning watch, something that had delighted the other woman.

Sadie had suggested she offer to take a watch a couple of days ago, to which Ada had politely dismissed under the pretence Miss Grimshaw needed her assistance, but now she was itching to do something else besides sewing and washing and cleaning.

And what better way to prove her newfound loyalty to this camp than protecting it? Especially as she’d already proven what she could do.

Her ‘show’, as it was now being called, was still being discussed by the time dinner had come round, and she had batted away questions about how’d she’d been taught with humble answers of being raised to hunt.

It was a familiar story to them, some of the group having been raised the same way, so they didn’t press, just taking it as she was damn good. It was almost as if her ‘show’ had broken the last barrier between her and the group, like they had found the box they could put her in to and what purpose she served. It was almost as if she’d finally found her place, too. Most of the men, probably seeing her as more useful now that they knew she could do more than sew and clean, held easier conversations with her that night and Charles and Javier had even politely extended an open invitation to her to join them in a hunt one day. She’d accepted gladly.

Now, though, she was left alone to guard the camp on the north side, a rifle in her hands and a gentle breeze on her face.

It was peaceful, and she hadn’t minded that the hours had passed slowly. Stood under the tall trees, she listened and watched for any sign of movement, occasionally spotting a hare or squirrel rustling amongst the bushes.

She tried not to think about how easily she had been riled yesterday. Usually she found it more infuriating to someone in an argument to be the calm one, to walk away, but something about Arthur just made her want to prove him wrong. Who the hell did he think he was, judging and—

“Good mornin’.”

She’d heard someone approach but hadn’t expected that voice to belong to them. Turning her head, she smiled politely.

She was the only camp member she hadn’t spoken to, having only glimpsed her sitting in Dutch’s tent or down on the other side of the bank, writing or combing her hair. The other women and even some of the men had remarked under their breath about how lazy and entitled Miss O’Shea was, and Ada had been able to see that for herself.

So quiet alarm bells had started to ring that Molly O’Shea, who kept herself to herself and hadn’t bothered to introduce herself previously, had come to seek her out.

“Good morning, how are you?”

“Ah, I’m grand, thank ye, you?” the Irish woman answered, a gentle smile on her lips as she wandered closer, a cigarette between her fingers.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“Grand.” Molly exhaled a breath of smoke. “I just thought I’d come to let ye know Javier’s comin’ to take over from ye in a few minutes.”

Oh, did you now.

“Thank you, Molly.”

“No worries. I’ll walk back to camp with ye, if ye like. He shouldn’t be too long.”

Can’t really say no to that now, can I.

“Sure, that would be nice.”

Lowering her hands, Ada kept the rifle grasped in one as she fell into step with Molly, her curiosity over exactly what Miss O’Shea wanted causing her to fall silent.

She didn’t have to wait long.

"You’ve got lovely hair. Just like mine. Ye got any Irish in yer family?”

There we go.

“Yes, my father was. He’d come here as a child, though.”

“And yer mother?”

“American. From Virginia. They met at a local dance one night and fell in love. Much to the dismay of my grandparents, apparently.”

“Oh, really?” Molly smiled as she did, her eyes remaining intently on her.

“Yes, but they loved each other so it didn’t matter to them.”

“Ah, that’s lovely. Very romantic.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Forgive me for askin’ but I take it he passed away?” she asked, lowering her voice to a sympathetic tone.

“Yes, when I was a child.” Ada smiled faintly, making sure the recollection of tragic memories was clear on her face. “A few years after that my older brother died. We moved to Strawberry shortly after, my mother and sister and I, to live with my uncle, for a fresh start.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Annie. You’ve been through so much.”

Ada just maintained her small smile, looking at the ground. They slowed as they reached the camp and Ada lifted her head to nod at Javier as he passed, a light smile on his lips.

“Look,” Molly continued gently. “I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself to ye sooner, Annie. I thought I’d give ye a bit of space after all the awful things ye went through.”

Of course you did.

“It’s fine, Molly, I appreciate your kindness.”

Molly’s sweet smile widened a touch before she gestured at Ada’s face with her fingers holding the cigarette. “Did that happen in the attack?”

Ada frowned genuinely for a moment before she realised what she was referring to, involuntarily touching her cheek and the small, healing bruising that spread across her cheekbone. Nobody else had mentioned it, perhaps out of respect.

“Oh, yes, my Repeater hit me as I fired a shot. It was much worse when I arrived.”

It was far too sympathetic a look the woman was giving her. She also seemed to be steering them in the direction of Dutch’s tent and, upon glancing at it, Ada spotted Micah sat outside it, cleaning his revolver.

Christ, what is this? They’re not going to interrogate me, are they?

“And your neck, there, that from them, too?”

Ada caught herself before she cursed, tensing just slightly.

Shit.

She’d meant to find a neckerchief before dressing but it had slipped her mind as it had been so full with cursing Micah Bell and Arthur Morgan.

“Oh, no, I got this when I was a child, from an accident.”

She resisted the urge to brush her finger tips against the thin, four inch scar that lay horizontally at the base of her throat. Up until now she’d kept her hair down and the blouse Miss Grimshaw had given her had a high neck which had hidden it. But now, with her hair swept up and wearing the new brown and white striped blouse that she had bought which had a lower neckline, it was on show for all to see, if one were to look close enough. Miss O’Shea was very observant.

“Goodness, how did it happen?”

What exactly was she searching for? All Ada could think about was that this was Dutch’s woman, but was she digging for her own benefit or for Dutch’s? Had her little gun show yesterday drawn more interest than she’d thought? Or was Molly just incredibly curious?

Ada was saved from resorting to one of her lies, however, by none other than Arthur Morgan.

“Hey, Molly, where’s Dutch?”

Her head lifting quickly, Ada found the man suddenly stood before Micah, ignoring whatever the other man was rambling on about, that eternally exasperated expression on his features.

Miss O’Shea’s mood soured quickly.

“I don’t know, I’m not that man’s keeper, apparently.” Throwing her hands up dismissively, she strode away, muttering under her breath.

So much for my new friend.

Passing the rifle to her other hand, she suddenly didn’t quite know what to do with herself, standing there a little awkwardly. Follow after Molly and perhaps continue to be interrogated by her or very obviously turn away from these men and stride away like she’d found a pit of snakes? Well, that wouldn’t be far from the truth.

“... that line of thought serves you or me very well,” Arthur answered to whatever Micah had said. And then he looked at her.

“Miss Sawyer, have you seen Dutch?”

“No, I haven’t.”

He sighed and looked around again, which needled her.

There, he’s just silently dismissed you for being useless, now go.

“Well, that’s because, cowpoke,” Micah continued, “you are a man of profoundly limited intelligence. Isn’t that right, Miss Sawyer?”

She glanced at him, finding him giving her that smile she hated so much.

Irritating Arthur by siding with Micah she certainly hadn’t stooped to yet.

“At least he doesn’t pretend to be the fount of all knowledge.”

Arthur’s gaze darted to her as Micah laughed.

“Defending the idiot, huh? How noble of you, Miss Sawyer.” His attention returned to Arthur. “But while you and the old man and Dutch have been running around, digging us ever deeper into shit, old Mr Pearson might have gone and lightened the load a little. Pearson!”

Now her curiosity certainly wouldn’t allow her to walk away.

“Ain’t you curious?”

She almost answered him before she realised he was talking to Arthur.

“I guess.”

“Gentlemen.”

Ada took a slight step to the side at the sound of Dutch’s voice behind her, turning her head. He strode towards them, looking resplendent as always.

“Dutch,” Micah called out eagerly, excited to share whatever he had, gesturing at Pearson who had nearly run over to them, smoothing down his thinning hair, also excited. “You tell him, fat man.”

Ada arched an eyebrow and found herself glancing at Arthur, who was already looking at her, and they shared the briefest of bemused looks. She swiftly returned her attention to Pearson as he spoke.

“It’s peace, Dutch, the O’Driscolls. I mean, I think there’s a way.”

Ada stilled, bemusement falling from her features. Arthur frowned, stepping aside as Dutch stepped into his tent.

Dutch didn’t seem too impressed either. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Get the words out properly, fat man,” Micah prompted with thinly veiled frustration, giving Pearson a slight shove into the tent.

Pearson cleared his throat and took a breath, lifting his gaze to Dutch’s back as the older man reloaded his revolver. “I met a couple of the O’Driscoll boys on the road into town. Things were about to get ugly, but you know how I am in a fight, huh? Like a cornered tiger!”

From the corner of her eye, Ada saw Micah look at Arthur, a smirk pulling at his lips, but she didn’t dare pull her attention away from Pearson.

“Anyway, somehow it didn’t, but...” Pearson cleared his throat again as Dutch lit a cigar, still not having gained his full attention and very much aware of it. “We got to talkin’ and they suggested a parley to end things. Like gentleman.”

“Gentlemen?” Now he had Dutch’s attention. “Colm O’Driscoll?” He advanced towards Pearson, who backed out of the tent, his mouth moving slightly. Dutch looked between Micah and Pearson. “... Have you lost your minds?”

“You’re always tellin’ us, Dutch,” Micah interjected before Pearson could, “do what has to be done, but don’t fight wars ain’t worth fightin’.”

“They want a parley?” Hosea’s voice suddenly sounded from behind them and they all turned, finding him sat at the table, a newspaper in his hands. “It’s a trap.”

Micah hissed out a slight breath, raising his hands. “Well, of course it’s probably a trap.” His voice softened a little as he returned to Dutch. “But what have we got to lose finding out?”

“Gettin’ shot,” Arthur drawled.

“We ain’t gettin’ shot because you’ll be protectin’ us,” Micah answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, patting him on the arm. “It’s a trap? You shoot the lot of them. If it ain’t a trap, that slim chance—”

“I don’t see the point in any of this,” Dutch cut in as he strode out of the tent towards Hosea, shaking his head, and they all followed after him, Ada included, at a slight distance.

“It’s a chance we gotta take,” Micah implored, walking a little faster than the others.

Dutch exhaled a short breath as he braced his hands against the table, leaning over it. No one spoke.

Suddenly pushing away from the table, Dutch straightened. “I killed Colm’s brother, a long time ago.”

Ada’s heart stopped as her lips parted.

Oh my God...

Her blood ran cold.

“Then he killed... A woman I loved dear...”

This was why they hated each other so much. This was why so much blood had been shed. This was why... This... Because of... Because of this man stood before her...

Micah hummed sympathetically and leaned on the table. “As you say, it’s a long time ago, Dutch.”

Dutch fell silent once more, his jaw moving. He threw his cigar aside.

She couldn’t breathe.

She felt Arthur, stood beside her, looking at her.

Breathe, for the love of God, breathe...

Then, Dutch nodded.

“Let’s go.” The men all straightened as he pointed at Micah. “You and me, with Arthur protecting us, no one else.”

He started to walk away, and Ada heard herself saying, “I’ll go with you.”

They all paused, their eyes heavy on her.

Breathe.

Gentleman Dutch smiled politely as he turned to her. “Miss Sawyer, I can’t allow that.”

She swallowed hard, grasping the rifle a little more tightly. “Either you allow it, or I just happen to be heading the same way you do.”

Her boldness took them all by surprise, including herself.

“Miss Sawyer, it—”

“Because of that man my family is dead and my town destroyed. If he wants to talk peace and means it, I want to be there. For my family and the people of my town’s sake.”

“By that reasonin’ we should take Sadie, too,” Arthur interjected, frowning.

Her gaze cut to him. “I’d be delighted if she was to join us.”

Dutch’s smile lingered as his eyes swept over her and, after less than a moment, he nodded. “Fine, but you go with Arthur and watch from a distance until we know it’s safe.”

She nodded, knowing when to not push her luck.

As she strode passed him, Arthur stared at Dutch incredulously, opening his mouth to protest, but Dutch was already walking away, heading towards his horse.

Gritting his teeth, Arthur made his way to his own horse, watching Annie. She mounted quickly, holstering the rifle on her saddle, a grim determination on her features.

Lord, I hope she doesn’t shoot him the moment we see him... If he’s even there.

“Mount up, then, Morgan.”

Arthur glanced at Micah, a satisfied smile on his lips. Sighing heavily, he mounted his horse, his eyes returning to Annie as they headed out of camp.

Micah led the way, Dutch to his right and Arthur and Ada behind them.

“You know, I’ve been fightin’ Colm for so long now I can barely remember a time when it was different,” Dutch said bitterly.

Her gaze cut to him, her heart thumping against her chest.

“And you’re still fightin’ him now, make no mistake of that,” Arthur answered from her left.

“Here he goes, Doubtin’ Thomas. Is there any plan you ain’t sour on?” Micah snorted.

Ada kept her gaze ahead, silent, her mind racing as they talked to each other.

Think about something before you throw up.

But what else could she think about?

Peace? Why would O’Driscolls want peace? It, almost laughably, went against their very nature. It just seemed far, far too good to be true. Whatever was going to happen, though, whether it was a trap or not, O’Driscoll boys would be there, and she was going to kill them. And if Colm O’Driscoll was there, then—

“What about you, Miss Sawyer? Awful brave of you to want to come.” Micah’s voice brought her back to the present.

“I’m nervous, too,” she answered after a moment, echoing words she’d heard Arthur say.

“Look, you two ain’t even going to be the one’s in danger. We’ll get on over there, find a nice perch for you two to settle into, you both got rifles, ain’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Arthur muttered.

“Then me and Dutch walk right into the lion’s den with you to cover us. And you Miss Sawyer, we’ve all seen you’re a real good shot, I can imagine the damage you could do.”

What a shame if you were to get caught in any cross-fire, Micah.

“Okay, just keep calm. Unless I give you a reason not to,” Arthur answered before she could.

“Oh, we’ll be fine. We’ve got you two,” Dutch called back.

“We will do our best, won’t we, Miss Sawyer?” Arthur glanced at her as they rode over a dry river bed, the sun beating down.

She just hummed in response.

“Oh, my dear and trusted friend, with you watching over me, I would walk into hell itself,” Dutch said sincerely.

“As would I,” Micah added, so over-sincerely she would have laughed in any other situation.

They fell silent, until...

“Hey, up there, men on the ridge.” They followed the direction of Micah’s pointing finger, slowing

“O’Driscolls, from the look of ‘em,” Duch murmured as they watched the four men ride up the ridge slowly, the man at the back, even from this distance she could see, looking down at them.

“I don’t like havin’ eyes on us.”

She shared Arthur’s discomfort as they rode up the incline of the hill.

“We’re close, you’ll be the eyes soon enough,” Micah answered in what just about passed as a soothing tone. “Maybe he’s right, Dutch. Maybe I have pushed too hard. Got us into situations that... could have been safer. I just... I see all those mouths we got to feed, and I... I dream too big. Caring too much, that’s my problem.”

Ada wanted to laugh again.

“Carin’ too much? There’s no such thing.”

“This is horse shit, from both of you!” She was glad Arthur said it before she did.

“It might be! Micah might be full of shit. Colm O’Driscoll might be full of shit,” Dutch said, a quiet bite to his tone as the path flattened out and they reached the top of the hill. “The promise of this great nation, men created equal, justice and liberty for all, that might be nonsense, too. But it’s worth trying for. It’s worth believing in. Can’t you see that, friend?”

Arthur sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Try. All I ask is you try.”

“All right, cowpoke, and my lady,” Micah interrupted, “you’re gonna peel off up ahead. We’ll be meeting down on the plain. Find a spot just above us where you can keep an eye on things.”

“All right, all right. However this shakes out, let’s aim to meet back at the fork in the road afterwards.”

“We’ll be there, partner.”

They separated, Dutch and Micah heading down into the valley as Arthur and Ada cantered away up the rocky, grassy incline. Neither of them spoke until they reached the top.

“Slow up, just here,” Arthur murmured.

She slowed Faithful as Arthur slowed Ophelia, glancing at the nearby ridge. They dismounted, each shouldering their rifles, and she followed behind him, crouching a little as they moved towards the edge. They both kneeled and Arthur lifted the binoculars he’d retrieved from his saddlebag, peering through them at the scene below. Micah and Dutch had halted and dismounted, three horses cantering towards them. Where was the fourth? Probably doing exactly what they were. Ada looked through the scope of her rifle. They both watched as Dutch and Micah lay their hands on their weapons on their belts, and a grey-haired man in the middle dismounted his horse.

The wind faintly carried his voice as he spoke.

“Hello, Dutch. It’s been a while.”

She stiffened. Colm O’Driscoll.

“He’s old,” she couldn’t stop herself from saying.

“He ain’t that old.” Arthur muttered, lowering his binoculars and raising his gun. “Now be quiet.”

“Sure,” they heard Dutch say.

The other two men behind Colm dismounted and approached.

“So, uh, how’s your gang doing? They still believin’ in ya? Better world, pure world, hmm? How’s that comin’ along?” She could hear Colm’s smile.

“Just fine.”

“How’s that score you stole off us?”

“Which one?”

Arthur sighed.

For Christ’s sake...

Colm laughed suddenly. “Oh, I like that. It’s like I said,” he said to his men, “This a charismatic leader.” Turning back to Dutch, he neared, his head tilting. “Lot of heat on us this time. Both of us. Whole heap of trouble.” He smiled. “They offered me a price, Dutch, to bring you in.”

Dutch smiled. “Why didn’t you take it?”

“Well, still might.”

Dutch’s smile faltered slightly, and he seemed to exhaled a breath. “I am... sorry about your brother.”

Colm just continued smiling, shrugging. “Well, I never liked him much.”

Dutch stilled, and Arthur thought he could see the coldness in his eyes. “... I liked Annabelle.”

“You always loved the ladies, Dutch van der Linde, I like that about you,” Colm laughed, shaking a finger at him.

Dutch seemed to have had enough. “What are we doin’ here, Colm? Is this thing over?”

Ada hadn’t moved, desperate to hear every word, barely breathing. Arthur had been too busy focusing, too, to notice her distress, thankfully. The very earth seemed to fall into silence as they awaited Colm’s answer.

There was a sound behind her, suddenly.

Before she could turn, white hot pain spread across the back of her head and everything went black.

Sounds waded in and out. Loud, so loud. His eyes opened and there were three moving shapes. Blinking, they focused into three men, strangers, who were staring down at him, laughing and calling out to him.

“Hello, sugar! You ain’t dead, is you? Not yet, anyway!”

The man who spoke slammed his boot down onto Arthur’s shin and he grunted, pain shooting up his leg. Then a fist slammed into his head, and a boot connected with his stomach. Something cracked against his head, and everything went black.

“.... handin’ him over to the law, it’s... I don’t know. Strange times...”

“They killed Seamus, fuck the whole lot of them...”

Arthur exhaled a quiet groan, trying to open his eyes. His vision was blurred and distorted voices came from somewhere but he couldn’t determine where or who. Closing his eyes, he tried to regulate his shallow breathing, his head pounding.

What the hell happened... Think, you idiot...

Mountain. He’d been up on the mountain, he’d been watching the O’Driscolls, then Annie had— Shit, Annie had been with him. She’d made a sound, then he’d turned and... Shit, an O’Driscoll had slammed a gun against his head.

It had been a God damn trap... Jesus Christ, where’s Annie?

Opening his eyes again, Arthur dragged his gaze up and there she was. He released a rasping breath as he tried to focus on her. She lay a foot or so away, her hair covering her face, motionless.

They can’t have killed her, they won’t have killed her or...

Of their own accord, his brain slow to catch up, his arms moved out and settled on the ground. Digging his fingers into the ground, he pulled himself towards her, gritting his teeth as he tried to be as slow and as quiet as possible. He still couldn’t place where the voices were, but they were starting to sound closer as he adjusted.

His fingers brushed against her hair, trying to push it aside to see where her face was. Then, she made a small sound and her head moved a fraction.

Relief eased the tightening of his chest.

“Annie...” he breathed, pushing more of her hair aside. “Hey, wake up, come on.”

She didn’t move or make another sound.

A horse’s whinny broke out across what he had now established was a clearing in a forest, and he’d recognise the sound anywhere.

Good girl.

He couldn’t whistle her closer for fear of alerting the O’Driscolls, but he couldn’t just do nothing.

Shit...

“... he can play him...”

Slowly turning his head, Arthur found the source of the voices. He could only see two of them, sat on the ground several feet away, their backs to him. He was too weak to fight them, he knew that, and if they hadn’t killed him yet they wanted him for something. They hadn’t killed Annie either or seemingly done anything else, so...

If I could get away, get to Ophelia and get help... Shit, I can’t leave her...

Perhaps he could get to his guns on her, though, she hadn’t sounded too far off.

Shit...

Turning away from Annie, he began to crawl, focusing on an incline up ahead. If he could stand, and then maybe run, maybe she was beyond it, maybe they wouldn’t notice him...

With what strength he had left, Arthur pushed himself up onto shaking legs as quietly as possible.

One foot in front of the other, come on, you big bastard...

"He’s escapin’! Shoot him!”

Oh, shit...

“Relax, relax! I got him, I got him...”

A gunshot sounded and he saw a bullet collide with the ground before him. He collapsed, his legs too weak, rolling onto his back.

“Did I kill you?”

The same three men from before appeared over him again as he groaned, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“Not... yet...”

They laughed, two of them still keeping their guns fixed on him.

“No, of course not. Not yet... But I will.”

A gunshot sounded again, and pain blossomed across his shoulder. His cry broke off as he passed out.

A roaring sound. Like when he was too near an explosion and his ears couldn’t adjust. His face was wet. Blood? Possibly. Yelling, too.

He groaned. God, pain everywhere.

Open your eyes.

It took all his strength to pry them open and he gazed down at... water. Running water. A river, a loud one. Something kept jolting him, too. On a horse, crossing a river. Every breath he took came out as a ragged exhale. Pained.

Still yelling.

Annie. He could faintly hear Annie yelling, but it was as if she was miles away. Cursing and hollering that was answered with laughter.

There was a cry, then, suddenly, silence.

He thought he heard an eagle’s call as he passed out once more.

She heard firewood crackling first. Low voices drifted over it. She felt warmth from something close by.

Then she felt the pain.

There was an unrelenting stiffness in her shoulders, arms and legs. It took her a few moments to realise she was kneeling on dry grass and her hands were tied above her head to a wooden pole that pressed against her spine, keeping her rigid. Her jaw and cheeks hurt, too. They throbbed, as did her right eyebrow. In fact her whole head ached.

She’d been hit, she remembered. Hit to pass out, hit to shut up, hit just for the hell of it. Hit by...

She mentally checked the rest of her body.

Fine, thank God... Well, besides the stiffness...

The voices rose a little higher for a moment, laughing, before stabilising again.

I don’t want to know where I am, I don’t want to know where I am, I don’t want to know where I am...

A groan escaped her, and the voices grew in volume, enough for her to hear.

“Shh, quiet... Is she awake?”

“About time.”

“Quick, make sure you’ve got a gag ready.”

They laughed and the sound of it irritated the throbbing in her head, making her groan again.

Someone suddenly gripped her chin and lifted her head. Opening her eyes a fraction, her cracked lips parted.

“You’ve taken a couple’a blows to the head, darlin’, you all righ’?”

She hummed out a sound, then made her eyes open a little wider. A man swam into focus, with brown eyes and black hair and moustache.

“Never been better,” she rasped.

The man laughed, making her wince.

“Fiery one, ain’t ye? I think I’ve got somethin’ to make ye quiet.”

“I wouldn’t. I’ve got strong teeth.”

He laughed again and released her, standing and patting the top of her head before turning away.

“She’s fine. Tell him.”

She watched him as he walked away to, she assumed, resume his place at a fire surrounded by three, four other men. Her sluggish mind tried to frantically make a plan as she attempted to rotate her wrists to test how loose the bonds were.

Not loose at all.

Slowly lifting her head higher, her neck so stiff, she leaned it back against the pole, her eyes drifting across the scene before her. The men sat to her right around the fire, and across to her left was a stone building of some sort, perhaps a cottage. She could hear the sounds of horses behind her, snorting and biting at the grass. Beyond the men was a ramshackle wooden shack, crates stacked around one side of it and...

No sign of Arthur.

Please, God, don’t let him be dead.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself, in her exhausted state, not to cry. They would just love that and she couldn’t lose hope because there was always, always a way out.

‘Somebody always makes a mistake somewhere, girlie’.

Think.

They couldn’t have killed Arthur. She’d heard the men talking about this being a trap to lure Dutch to them, so they won’t have killed him... Would they? Would it make much difference, if Dutch was going to come and they were all to be turned over to the law, anyway? Why was she still alive? She was no major gang member the law could use, oh, God, what did they want with her—

“Ah, our second guest.”

Her eyes snapped open at his voice. Carefully lifting her head off the pole, she watched him approach, a smile on his lips, a lantern in one hand and a stool in the other.

“Hello, sweetheart, how are you?” Colm O’Driscoll asked, setting the stool down and taking a seat opposite her.

He was dressed like a poor man’s version of Dutch. Waistcoat, shirt, trousers, all of them one step down from the kind of finery Gentleman Dutch wore. Where Dutch’s hair shone darkly, Colm’s was lank, grey, thin. His features were harsher, too, the lines in his face deeper. His blue eyes, however, were bright, and on her.

She swallowed hard and wet her lips, feeling each stinging split.

“Wonderful,” she whispered, not trusting the full strength of her voice.

He laughed softly. “They said you was a firecracker. You don’t sound so good, though, would you like some water?”

She couldn’t, and didn’t want to, stop herself from nodding.

“All right, then.” Placing the lantern down, he pulled a silver flask from his waistcoat pocket, unscrewed the cap and held it to her lips.

Tipping her head back as much as she could, he then poured the liquid into her mouth. She swallowed, and instantly started to cough. Turning her head to the side, she spluttered as the liquid burned her throat, her breaths ragged.

Whisky.

“Ah, shit, my mistake. Damn, you got some on me, sweetheart.” Colm tutted before taking a swig himself and screwing the cap back on, watching her as she started to cease her coughing.

Licking her lips again, wincing, she lifted her gaze to meet his. He smiled.

“I’ve just seen your boy Arthur,” he remarked, leaning a forearm on his thigh. “Oh he’s fine, don’t be so worried,” he continued as her eyes widened. “I told him you were... a little unwell. Still pretty, though, ain’t you? Yeah...”

He brushed the dirty strands of hair that fell over her face away before his fingers ran down her jaw, his smile widening a little more as his hand dropped.

She hadn’t jerked away but stayed silent, watching him, her heart pounding.

“He was goin’ to leave you, you know. He was makin’ a break for it.”

He couldn’t have missed the confusion that flashed across her features.

“Yeah, my boys saw him runnin’ away. Had to shoot him in the shoulder, they did. It’s lookin’ a little bad now, but I think it got the message through.” He waved his hand. “But, anyway, what’s a nice girl like you doin’ with a band of such cowardly outlaws, hm, Miss...? What’s your name, darlin’?”

She didn’t answer.

He leaned closer, his elbows on his knees. “Now we thought you was Dutch’s current lady at first, what’s her name, Molly? Yeah? But then we saw how young you was and... then I saw this ring...”

Her eyes darted down as he rummaged in his trouser pocket and pulled out a small, silver object. Holding it out to her in his palm, she clenched her teeth as she stared down at the ring.

“... now, I know this ring. Where’d you get it, darlin’?”

She returned her gaze to his.

“It was a gift.”

“Hm? Was it now? From who?”

“A boy in my town.”

“Oh...” He sat back, tilting his head. “... now I don’t believe that.”

Beads of sweat trailed down her back as she watched him turn it over with his fingers.

“See, this is a very special ring. A family heirloom, I think, one of a kind. I know someone who had one just like it.”

Her chin started to tremble as she exhaled a short, staggered breath. He met her gaze again.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Ann—Annie Sawyer,” she whispered.

He tilted his head again, his expression one of disappointment. “I don’t believe that, either.”

“My... My name...” Her voice shook, her eyes filling. “... is Annie Sawyer.”

“No, it isn’t...” He leaned closer once more, closing his fingers over the ring. “I think it’s Adaline O’Driscoll.”

Tears started to fall down her cheeks as all hope left her.

“Am I wrong, dear niece?”

Comments, reblogs and likes make my day in a way I can’t describe.

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or untagged in this series!

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Questions?

Tagged: @belfry-bat, @sistasarah-sallysaidso

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x female oc #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #my writing #flamehairedwritings

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crvmsdecorum · 4 years ago

Photo

"ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ sᴘᴇᴡ ᴘʀᴏғᴀɴɪᴛɪᴇs. ɪ ᴇɴᴜɴᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀʟʏ, ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇᴍᴀɴ."

( COLIN O’DONOGHUE, 38, MALE, HE/HIM ) Was that CALHOUN O'FARRELL? I heard a rumor they work for the O'SHEA family, but who knows for sure ? They can be a bit TEMPERAMENTAL & CALLOUS, but I also heard they can be METICULOUS & STRAIGHTFORWARD. You’ll usually find them at CHICAGO THEATER in their spare time, when they’re not being an AFFILIATE. You may want to keep an eye on that one !

trigger warnings: death, murder, blood, beatings.

Meet Lorcan Calhoun O’Farrell the second ; call him Cal or Calhoun for sort, he doesn’t like going by Lorcan.

He is a true born Irish having being born to Lorcan O’Farrell and his wife, Niamh. Calhoun is their first born son and became BLESSED being never after his father. Though later in life Cal would argue he was cursed with the name instead.

Despite being raised in Dublin, Calhoun frequently from a young age visited Chicago with his father. Lorcan Sr believed he should teach his son at a young age of the ‘family business’ aka serving the O’Shea family. His old man was a dear old friend of Mason O’Shea -- Calhoun’s godfather.

From the constant trips to America Calhoun became acquaintances with each and every child Mason O’Shea fathered and despite having siblings of his own back home, Cal considered them his siblings too -- well, almost all of them. He still doesn’t know why and asks himself at times this, but Cal ended up getting a crush on Amelia. Cal honestly believes it’s because he would like to marry a woman like the oldest O’Shea. An honest cold hearted kind of gal, maybe minus the cold heart part.

Even though he was trained from an early age with Lorcan Sr having hopes of Calhoun taking his spot when he was ready, the two never honestly got along with each other. Sure they would act as if they got along in front of Mason, but when not around him? Oh it was a bloody war. Nimah at one point told her first born it is because he is like Lorcan in so many ways.

To the world Calhoun appeared as a rebellious boy who wanted to prove his worth to the Irish family, but behind closed doors? He took the beatings of his wrathful father. Calhoun even took the beatings for both his mother and siblings. There were many times he dreamed about just snapping the old man’s neck, but something always stopped him and he never knew what it was exactly.

Straight out of high school Calhoun went to work full time for the O’Sheas and Lorcan couldn’t be anymore happier in his son. It was as if the man was born to be a part of something like this, he never cared to get his hands bloody just like his old man before him.

That brute personality of his and the way he knocked down his enemies went unnoticed. Calhoun rose through the ranks reaper, bone breaker and finally became a General at the age of twenty nine. This tickled Lorcan to death, but it was short lived when he realized that his own son had a higher position than him.

Despite his position it never stopped Calhoun from going home for a week or two to see his family and check in on the O’Shea sector there. After all his sister was well respected there.

Just like his line of work, Calhoun’s love and sex life were fast paced as well. He hardly ever slept with the same person twice and became to be known as a Casanova. Through this though is how he learned of his father’s unfaithfulness to his mother. Oh what a sick way he learned too. Cal ended up sleeping with the woman that caused Lorcan to no longer be faithful to his marriage and this ENRAGED the eldest O’Farrell.

It was obvious Calhoun and Lorcan never got along with each other and never saw eye to eye, but this? This stirred the pot to the point to collapsed. With this information he came forth to his mother and watch their marriage come to an end. Nimah might’ve been a kind hearted soul, but she was also the kind of woman to not tolerate someone’s bullshit either.

And so there was Calhoun on the night the papers were signed. He decided to help his mother pack up the remainder of her things and move somewhere else on O’Shea property (she was loyal to the irish fam). Though it seemed fate had another idea instead.

Lorcan ended up busting through the front door, clearly drunk out of his mind and full of rage. His blood boiling and his words completely slurred he attacked Calhoun. As he wailed in on his first born the words of everything he thought of Cal came spewing out. Unlike his siblings, Cal was always the rebellious one to his father and Lorcan believed Calhoun was sent to show how weak Lorcan was to the O’Shea family -- to Mason. Before Calhoun could react to this is when Nimah stepped in to which Lorcan reacted by putting his hands on her. From that moment is when the first born saw RED and found himself slipping into a blackout.

When Cal came out of this dark episode he stood over his father’s lifeless body and met the face of his mother who was pale as a ghost. Nimah informed her son of what he had done: he murdered Lorcan O’Farrell. His face was unrecognizable and his blood tainted the clothes they both wore.

Afraid of what would happened to Calhoun, Nimah hatched the plan of getting rid of Lorcan’s body deep in the country side. To the family and the clan they made it look as if Lorcan abandoned them all together.

When returning back to the States, Mason had asked him how he felt of Lorcan’s sudden departure. Calhoun’s response? The bastard’s dead to me for what he’s done, sir.

Calhoun didn’t know if it was known to Mason of Lorcan’s violent side or not, but at times it did feel as if he knew about it for he never did question anything more on it. Not long after that word broke out that Lorcan was the one seeding himself a little money from the organization and with this information made many people believe even more he left high and dry. Still, no one questioned Cal for they all knew of how he felt about Lorcan.

Fast forward to last year, to the day Mason O’Shea died and Calhoun felt as if it was his fault. He felt like a failure in not being able to protect the leader. After his funeral is when Calhoun was called into the leader’s office and the new leader wanted a word with him. Amelia O’Shea asked Calhoun if he would be interested in a HIGHER position within the Clan. Feeling unworthy of such a thing with the guilt of feeling as if he were a failure, Calhoun respectfully declined. ‘I am flattered, Amelia, really but I don’t believe I’m the lad for the job, besides I believe Ireland is callin’ me home so with your permission I’d like to return back there.’ His words exact and by the time night fell Calhoun was already on a plane to Dublin.

Over the last few months Calhoun had changed with Mason’s death hitting him worse than Lorcan’s. He began to almost become your typically drunk Irish though that never did anything to his shot. Cal always had been gifted in guns and became a well known sharpshooter for the O’Shea family.

His darkness though from that guilt only recently has gotten worse with his mother’s sudden death. It was very tragic. One moment Calhoun was having a breakfast with Nimah and his siblings, the next thing he knew was her falling to the ground in front of them. A brain aneurysm is what took her.

Him brooding in his dark hole became short lived when Cal gained a call from the O’Sheas newest leader, Richard and let me tell you, he was shocked as hell with him sitting in the big man’s seat. He didn’t question it and knew Richie boy could handle it. The new leader ended up calling him to ask where his allegiance lies with Amelia leaving -- ah, the rumors were true. It pained the man to hear that and understood in why he asked such a thing. When Amelia came to Ireland, Calhoun escorted her from the airport to the base and spent a lot of time with the oldest O’Shea.

After ending his conversation with Richard, it left Calhoun puzzled but also with this need to help them out in America. Cursing at himself the sharpshooting Irish found himself on the fist plane to Chicago.

Personality;; He may appear to be an asshole which he is completely, more so a smart ass while he claims his little brother is the dumb ass, but Calhoun can be a goofy guy with a dark sense of humor. He is a loyal man and has showed multiple times he would die for the O’Shea family. Cal is also known to be a bit of a gambler and is still a Casanova though he seems to be more into booze now then men or women.

Fun Facts;; He loves american western films, McLintock with John Wayne is one of his all time favorites. Cal has a younger twin sister who he calls the Devil incarnate, but like him is devoted to the O’Shea family. He completely loathes being called Lorcan.

Wanted Connections;; former fwb, enemies, friends, those he’s sponsored, ties from the Ireland sector, anything tbh! If you think he fits it then hmu for it.

#crimson.intro #about calhoun #//i feel like this is shiiit

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crimsxns-archived · 4 years ago

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gio’s intro was short and outdated so here’s a brand new one.

Was that GIOVANNI ROSSI ? I heard a rumor they work for the O’SHEA family, but who knows for sure ? They can be a bit INSOLENT & MANIPULATIVE, but I also heard they can be WITTY & CHARISMATIC. You’ll usually find them at SKYFALL BAR in their spare time, when they’re not being an GENERAL/PROFESSOR.

fun facts

nickname: gio

birthday/zodiac (sun): march 24th/aries

age: 40

relationship status: engaged

favorite color: black

favorite coffee: black

guilty pleasure: star wars

hobbies: cooking, reading, boxing, teaching, collecting art, and going to the gun range

details (key details bolded)

life for gio wasn’t what most people call normal. to him it was. when you grow up with parents who are into guns and drug dealing you tend to forget what’s appropriate and what’s not. declan and eloise rossi didn’t hide their shady dealings from the four children. despite everything gio, nico, trix, and bella all had a tight childhood. they went to school like everyone else. had family game nights like everyone else. had a very large family that included drug dealing friends...unlike most people. the wholesome activities were laced with education on fighting, guns, and the rossi way to deal with problems. the family didn’t have arguments. they fought it out. their parents were loving but strict.

gio had it the hardest out of all of them. as the oldest, he was pushed to get into the family business. the rossis grew up alongside the o’sheas. they were basically and extension of their own family. at the age of seventeen declan had pushed gio into joining which he was hesitant to do at first. mason was the one who pulled him in. somehow the eldest rossi managed to stay strong within the o’sheas while going to the university of chicago. he proved himself time and time again as he climbed up the ranks of the o’shea gang.

at the age of nineteen gio started dating a classmate named sarai. she was captivating to him. everything to him at the time. by twenty they were engaged. everything was going great. the one hiccup was sarais ex-boyfriend who was obsessive. they had several verbal altercations. a year after their engagement sarai was murdered by her ex-boyfriend. that drove gio off the deep end. he acted in a fit of rage and hunted the man down, killing him with several shots to the chest. throughout that short span of time with the o’sheas gio had suffered injuries from fights. an assignment gone wrong had left gio in the med suite due to a gunshot wound in his shoulder. saoirse was there by gios side to help pick up the pieces.

one of the constants in his life with the o’sheas was saoirse. their friendship had a rocky start but when they finally clicked they stayed together. they were there for every major event in each others life. the engagements, the losses, the children that seemed to latch on saoirse like they saw her beautiful her soul was. gio saw it as well. after the incident with his ex he stepped back from everything but there was always a soft spot for sao. time went on and his feelings for saoirse grew stronger until he finally stepped up and asked her out. it was all uphill from there.

all of this gang activity left gio wanting more from life. that’s why he continued his studies in the field of sociology. he was determined to keep a semblance of normalcy. years were spent in college to get his masters degree and ultimately become the sociology professor he is now. for some odd reason, gio was obsessed with society. which made sense considering what he does for a living.

gios personality can be described as stern, he has an issue with respect, warm around the people that are closest to him. he’s a huge star wars fan but he keeps it on the down-low. his relationship with his siblings varies depending on which one it is.

additional details

currently engaged to saoirse o’shea

nico didn’t want anything to do with the family business so he’s currently on another continent

declan and eloise are on the run

autumn is gio’s half-sibling. declan told gio about it.

charlie is basically gio’s daughter. he helped raise her with sao.

hates being called anything other than giovanni or gio.

#crimson.intro #gi: intro

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crimsoncityhq · 5 years ago

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The night has been advertised by multiple commercials in the civilian’s homes, and even dead bodies littered on some residence lawns. It’s dusk on a Thursday in February. The gates to the Fire and Ice Festival are lowered after hours of waiting in the biting Chicago tundra, and the crowd, over 4,000 strong, rushes in. Most are expecting a night of drunken freedom, cozied up by the outdoor heaters that promise a warm welcome, but some foresee the chaos bound to erupt across the lawn.

The first act takes the stage, and anyone who isn’t inebriated, courtesy of the open bar, is perceptive enough to realize that, no, that’s not Kanye West. Instead they are mesmerized by the lyrical lip syncher Dante Yeast—he looks enough like him, it’s better not to question it. One would think that the O’Sheas, Vasiles, and the Fausts all gathered in one spot would spell disaster, yet the evening rolls on without a hitch, despite the tensions slowly building in its periphery. Fausts members, too, are scattered across the ocean of bodies, but some faces are missing, figureheads who pull the strings.

Maybe they’re absorbed by the crowd; maybe they thought better of attending, but there’s a sense of unease that settles in the air. It’s not quite right, but no one can put a finger on why. Another beer, and the thought is lost is the swell of the music—if they didn’t know any better, they’d think the bass replicates the sound of distant explosions.

You’re free to start plotting. You can start posting starters/threads tomorrow, February 20th, 2020 at 7:30PM CST ! Part II coming February 24th ( Plot Slots can be found below the cut ! )

We’re going to allow each person to choose two plot slots for two characters max .If there are any leftovers, we’ll let members know when they can sign up for thirds.

You’ll notice that some of these plots are public, so feel free to have your character react to them/ notice them even if they aren’t happening directly to your character. However, if something feels like it happened privately to another character, please check in with their Mun to see if it’s okay for your character to know.

To be clear: these are not the only things that happen to your character during this plot drop and you are more than welcome to cook up your own trouble.

To sign up for a plot slot message the main! You can start doing that as soon as right now!

CHARACTER A, CHARACTER B, CHARACTER C, are approached by the venue to play as impersonators for the opening act of the show. However, it turns out…they are the show along with other noteworthy impersonators.

CHARACTER D & CHARACTER E end up camped out at the ticket box office on the other side of the lawn seats. They want a refund for the musical event after their cards were erroneously charged the next day on ADAM & EVE. Much to their surprise they come face to face with CHARACTER F( Faust ).

AUTUMN DAWSON is shitfaced prior to arriving at the music festival. They try to crowd surf before the opening act, and would get immediately dropped if NATHAN BURR didn’t catch their fall.

CHARACTER I & CHARACTER J purchased tickets to meet the bands backstage. They are led by the security detail of the event to two tents filled with a scent of gunpowder. Upon further inspection, they find a crate of fireworks. Do what you will.

CHARACTER K jumps on stage to hijack the mic and accidentally falls and breaks their ankle.

CHARACTER L & CHARACTER M are dosed with PCP by a stranger serving up “free” cocktails. Everything is a blur and they both snap back to reality an hour later, but they’re in the middle of an intense fist fight.

EFFIE FAUST & CHARACTER O engage in a mud wrestling contest that is being judged by no one whatsoever.

CHARACTER P & CHARACTER Q make out in a port-o-potty, but realize shortly after they’re locked inside. It’s up to CHARACTER R to either let them out...or tip them over.

CHARACTER S is mistaken as Pat Benatar. ASLI DEMIR drunkenly convinces them to go on stage to sing LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD.

CHARACTER U & CHARACTER V go hard on the alcoholic beverages & psychedelic treats at the start of the festival, by the end of it neither of them know where their shoes or wallets are.

CHARACTER W finds their soulmate in a drunken stupor and grinds on them for the better half of two hours, only to realize the grindee is ZHI ROU, who has been uncomfortably shifting away from them this entire time.

CHARACTER Y breaks all of their glow sticks and covers themselves in the liquid. It’s all fun and games until that shit starts to burn. CHARACTER Z does their best to quench CHARACTER Y with every bottled water they can find.

CHARACTER A1, CHARACTER B1, & CHARACTER C1 are hired security guards for the event. They have no clue who hired them to do it.

INGRID VASILE starts to overdose on COCAINE. LEV VASILE notices their struggle and assists them to the med tent. DOMINIC MURPHY is around the med tent and notices the commotion.

CHARACTER F1 tries to charge their phone using the musical equipment & gets electrocuted. Also it starts to play the most recent song listened to on their phone which is SONG OF THEIR CHOICE.

GRIFFIN DYER is held up at security when they try to enter the venue, because they tried to smuggle in a small animal. CHARACTER H1 isn’t really security and jacks the animal instead.

SERENITY MICHAELS starts to question their sanity when they see a small animal run in circles in front of them and jet off towards the direction of the port-o-potty.

RACHEL BYRNE feels something small and furry scaling the back of their dress, and, assuming it’s someone’s hand, slaps DAHLIA CAVALLI in the mouth before the small animal scurries away and they have to apologize.

CHARACTER L1 chases the small animal and just when they are sure they’ve caught it, the animal bites them on the neck. CHARACTER M1, who is higher than a motherfucker and hallucinating, sees CHARACTER L1 cradling their neck and automatically assumes a vampiric transformation is happening. CHARACTER L1 has to survive the following attack from a stranger with a pocket knife.

CHARACTER N1 is on their fifth drink at the venue. They hear a loud slurping noise, only to find the small animal lapping their beer in hand. Out of surprise they scream which causes the animal to shit on their hand and run away. CHARACTER O1 looks on in amazement, wonder, and terror as CHARACTER N1 wipes their hand on an unknowing CHARACTER P1. CHARACTER O1 is conflicted if they should say anything but takes a Snapchat video of the whole scenario anyway. It goes viral on Tik Tok the following evening.

The small animal finally gets caught by SANTIAGO PEREZ in a battle that lasts 10 minutes. The small animal is then given to CHARACTER R1 whom they assume is the owner.

CHARACTER S1 is lost to the world, and passes out directly in front of CHARACTER T1 that had just spent twenty minutes in line for a cup of water. The cup of water is spilled on top of CHARACTER S1.

NAOMI WASHINGTON & CHARACTER V1 become instant buddies when they chant to the sound of “SHOTS” around the crowd. IRINA KOSHKIN takes this literally and pulls out their gun ready to fire.

CHARACTER X1, CHARACTER Y1, CHARACTER Z1 all show up to the venue wearing the same exact outfit. You have declared them your number 1 enemy for the entirety of the music festival.

CHARACTER A2 is high as fuck and thinks they’re making a flower crown for CHARACTER B2…..except it’s a crown of shrooms instead. CHARACTER B2 wears the crown, but has to swat CHARACTER C2 away who keeps trying to eat them.

CHARACTER D2, CHARACTER E2, CHARACTER F2 suffer from dehydration. They try to find help at the med tent, but they can’t find where it is.

ROSA LEON gets handsy with the bartender at the open bar and leads them away for a quick fuck, allowing RYAN HAYES and CHARACTER I2 to raid the bar freely.

CHARACTER J2 is the aforementioned bartender and realizes a moment too late their station is being cleared out. Instead of returning to their position, they throw on some neon bracelets and join the party.

CHARACTER K2 is doing some sick backflips in the middle of the crowd and are called out by the currently performing act mid-set for drawing attention away from the stage. CHARACTER K2 does another backflip to retaliate, but accidentally kicks CHARACTER L2 in the face.

JESSE VALENCIA hijacks a ELECTRIC BLUE STRATOCASTER from the backstage, and they are not caught.

DAVUT DEMIR feels like they’re being watched and finds a silhouette with a rifle narrowed in on them perched upon a nearby building. They quickly retreat to find OPHELIA O’SHEA and P2 and warn them about the occurrence, who realize there are multiple snipers surrounding the pavilion.

CHARACTER Q2 swears they heard a sound of explosions over the music, being in front nearest to the stage. They grab the microphone and scream, “WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE.” CHARACTER R2 & CHARACTER S2 start to openly panic.

CHARACTER T2 (O’Shea) gets into a physical altercation with CHARACTER U2 (Vasile). They don’t stop until one or the other is knocked unconscious.

ANDREA REED & BIRDIE MENDOZA try to leave the event, but notice that they’re trapped in the auditorium. CHARACTER X2 makes it to their vehicle, but is stuck in place by the surrounding vehicles around them. Unable to escape fully, they return back to the venue.

CHARACTER Y2 hates their life at this music venue, because they’re stuck behind a rather sweaty individual. Their sweat keeps hitting them in the face, and at one point, they catch it in their mouth. It incites a ferocious bout of vomiting, and CHARACTER Z2 is trying to help, thinking they’ve been drugged, but CHARACTER Y2 can’t even explain what it is that made them sick.

TATIANA BLANTER is hit with a spare bullet, but no one is able to find where the source is. As no one around seems to have their gun out. CHARACTER B3 conceals their weapon perfectly.

NOVA DEVERAUX suffers a panic attack due to the crowd gathered, and clings onto CLARA DAVILLA who is unable to get them to the med tent.

CHARACTER E3 feels something warm splash on their face. They are unsure if it’s warm beer or urine. They’re pretty sure it’s warm beer, but remain conflicted the rest of the festival. CHARACTER F3 offers the shirt off their back for CHARACTER E3 to wipe the liquid off their face.

CHARACTER G3 is doing photography for the event, but realizes midway through the show that the performers aren’t who they say they are. They spot a face they know to be Faust affiliated in the crowd and scurry off toward the exit, only to be stopped by CHARACTER H3 (Faust) at the door.

MILES ST CLARE is the first to notice the lack of Fausts at the start of the music venue. They make their way to the police station in hopes of figuring it out, but instead they encounter burning police cars and chaos.

#crimson.event #crimson.plot #gang rp #crime rp #mature rp #overdose tw #violence tw #drugs tw

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