walkingd3adman - Tumblr blog

walkingd3adman · 6 hours ago

Text

AHHHH THIS WORKED SO WELL FOR ME! Used it on this bitch that I absolutely hate. 100% worked and now he’s extremely sick. Well deserved and would recommend :D

Bolismos’ Curse

Below is an extensive entry detailing the recipe for a potion so potent it renders its target violently ill. For ages, pro-malevolent sorcerers and witches have sought to harness nature’s most subtle toxins in their quest for retribution. The recipe you now hold is a testament to that legacy: a hellbroth — a potion that rends the spirit and destabilizes the most fundamental elements of the digestive system. This brew is not intended to take a life outright but rather intended to unravel the fortitude of its target. This is born from the interplay of nature’s sweetest fruits and the harsh bitterness of forbidden substances. Together, they yield a potion that is just slightly poisonous — enough to disrupt the natural humors and unleash an uncontrollable cascade of nausea and regurgitation. Read on — if you dare.

Picture credit goes to @ibraidedmybootyhairs.

Ingredients:

15 Cherry Seeds. In magical symbolism, cherry has been used as a substitute for blood. When extracted and empowered with curse magic, these seeds become the vessel for destruction as they latch onto the victim’s core, preparing to release their latent toxin upon activation.

1 Tablespoon Phoradendron Powder. Derived from the parasitic mistletoe, Phoradendron has long been associated with binding curses. It has also been known to warp internal systems, including the abdomen, belly, and vision, making it a fitting component for any malaise-inducing brew.

7 Bitter Almonds. Bitter almonds are fabled to harbor traces of cyanide — a toxin sufficient enough to brutally curdle the inner sanctum of one’s stomach. The number seven is no coincidence, for it represents the seven deadly sins, and each almond is imbued with the potential to trigger paroxysms of unease.

1 Cup Green Tomato Juice. Serving as the luminous base of the potion, the juice is the medium through which the other ingredients combine, its acidic nature ensuring that it remains unstable enough to induce the eventual calamitous expulsion of its victim’s innards.

40 Grams Nutmeg Powder. Its pungent aroma and potent flavor mask the more delicate notes of the other ingredients while driving the body’s reflexes toward a violent purge. Furthermore, it can cause nausea, vomiting, tachycardia, and liver damage, all of which make this more potent.

Candles. Seven red candles arranged in a circular pattern. Traditionally, the color is associated with hatred, anger, retaliation, and vengeance, all sentiments that resonate profoundly with Micah Bell. Even his guns, worn and familiar, carry the weight of this promise.

Target’s Hair. This works as a taglock — a substance that forges a strong link between your target and the hellbroth, therefore heightening the effects and ensuring that it affects the intended person.

Mortar and Pestle. If you don’t have one, a bowl and spoon usually does the trick. Just make sure to use something to grind them up and mix them.

Unholy Space. An abandoned barn, cloaked in shadows — the faint light filtering through cracked wooden slats, illuminating dust motes in the stale air — is ideal. The ambiance should evoke memories of a once-vibrant harvest inverted into a scene of grotesque and supernatural malady.

Instructions:

Don Your Clown Attire. Wear your garments as if they were your battle dress — a badge of your willingness to laugh in the face of your enemy. Apply clown makeup in erratic splashes of color, each smear a symbol of creativity unleashed from the constraints of conformity. As you stand draped in your absurd costume, allow yourself to see beyond the physical — this is about unveiling your inner self, that riotous flame that thrives in anarchy. You are not merely wearing the garb, you are it. Your reflection in the mirror shows not a performer but a harbinger of chaos, ready to face the target with a jester’s grin and a heart full of hate.

Light the Candles. Spit on the ground and then sneer. “Oh, are ya listenin'? You think you're safe in your little world, do ya? Well, I got news for ya. There ain't no place to hide from what's comin'. These shadows, they ain't just slitherin', they're huntin'… huntin' you.” Chuckle darkly. “They just care about bindin'… bindin' the fates of your precious heart and that pathetic excuse for a belly. Yeah, I'm talkin' about your guts, friend. The ones that are gonna be twistin' and turnin' before long.” Give a low, guttural growl. “Vengeance… is hereby mine. I claim it. I own it. I unleash it. Your suffering… is my reward. And I will not rest until it is satisfied.”

Process the Cherry Seeds. Pick up the 15 cherry seeds and allow them to cascade through your fingers, savoring the tactile details of their hard exteriors. As you do, recite an incantation to infuse each seed with your malevolent intent. “Seeds of ruin, that's what we're plantin' here. Little seeds, but they grow fast. They grow into somethin' real nasty. Somethin' that'll eat you up from the inside out. You think you're strong? You think you can handle it? Heh… you got another thing comin'.” With each seed, absorb the vibration of your dark words until they are meticulously aligned in purpose. Then, carefully transfer the seeds into a mortar, ensuring that the magic is locked into their very structure.

Infuse the Phoradendron. Sprinkle the powder onto a cold iron plate, and circle it with your index finger, remembering to not lick it off your finger because if you do it will not end well for you. "Mistletoe… they call it the kissin' bough. Fools. They don't know the truth. This ain't no symbol of love. This is a parasite. It steals the life from the tree and leaves nothin' but a hollow shell. Mistletoe of curse… that's what it is. Hidden in the branches, waitin' to strike. Mold fate… that's what we're doin' here. Takin' their precious little lives and twistin' 'em into somethin' ugly. Somethin' they never saw comin'.” Let the powder absorb the power of your voice before mixing it in.

Crush the Almonds. Using a pestle, begin by placing the almonds one by one. As you crush them slowly, count them in a low, measured tone as a reminder of the sins which each almond represents and seals their fate to provoke nausea and internal discord, and then examine them with a cruel smile. "Bitterness… seven dark almonds. Seven little bites of pure misery. These ain't your grandma's almonds, friend. These are soaked in the blackest bile, fueled by everythin' I hate about you. They're gonna ignite… ignite a fire in your soul that'll never be quenched." Once reduced to a coarse paste, fold the almonds into the mixture.

Extract the Potion Base. Slowly pour the juice into the mortar containing the already combined ingredients. "Green tomatoes… unripe, unwanted. Just like you." Slowly pour the green tomato juice into the mortar, the liquid hissing and spitting as it hits the other ingredients. "You were so full of hope, weren't ya? So full of dreams. Well, kiss 'em goodbye.” Stir gently but continuously to ensure that each component is evenly imbued with the cursed liquid. "By the power of this cursed concoction, by the bitterness of the green tomato, by that which festers within and the power of my hate, I command your life to be consumed!”

Measure the Nutmeg Powder. Sift the nutmeg powder over the mortar’s contents. “Nutmeg… they think it's just for pies, but little do they know, it's got a darker side. Nutmeg is a sprinkle of destiny, seasoned with a whole lotta pain." Examine the nutmeg with a cruel smile. "In dust and lore… been around for centuries, watchin' empires rise and fall. Seen more blood and betrayal than any of you yellow-bellied fools could imagine." Cast the nutmeg into the mixture. "Now join your siblings in endless gore… that's right, nutmeg. Get in there with the rest of the filth.” Allow this final step to complete the physical combination of ingredients.

Hair for Potency. In many traditional curses, magic is amplified when linked to the very essence of the intended target. To achieve this, you must obtain a lock of hair. This physical connection acts as a tether, ensuring that the hellbroth’s effects are inextricably bound to the target’s body and soul. Once obtained, gently quiver it in the mixture, and let its pulsing energies intermingle with the brew, solidifying its target specificity. "Hair may be dead protein but it’s got power, I’ll give it that. They thought they could get away with it. They thought they could outsmart me. They were wrong. This curse… this hellbroth… this is their fate. And they don’t even know it yet."

Release of the Enchantment. With the toxin now complete, the final step is to enact the transformative burst that sends the curse spiraling into the target’s life. This is done by pouring the liquid into a vial — preferably one made of dark glass. Lean in close as if whispering a secret. “Flesh to writhin' belly of woe… that's your future. Everythin' you touch, everythin' you love, it's all gonna turn to nothin' but pain. You'll be crawlin' on your hands and knees, beggin' for it to stop. But it won't. It'll just keep gettin' worse." Stand tall, eyes burning with malice. "As I command… so be it now! This ain't no request, friend. This ain't no prayer. This is a curse. And it's gonna stick to you like tar. You can run, you can hide, but you can't escape. Micah Bell's got your number now… and your number's up!" Spit again, then laugh a long, drawn-out, creepy sound. As the incantation leaves your lips, imagine the essence of aged bars and revolting regurgitations mingling with the magic of the curse.

Pour Into Their Drink. Now that the hellbroth has been sealed within the vial, the final act of malice is for you or a helper to deliver it directly into the veins of your target’s daily ritual. Secure a beverage — perhaps their cherished coffee or other bitter drink. With precision, remove the cap of the vial and slowly, deliberately, pour a measured amount of the potion into the drink. With this final act of defiance, leave your target none the wiser until the effects begin to wreak havoc from within, ensuring that your vengeance is unseen and for you to remain safe after the process (as with all curses, hexes, and jinxes).

Aftermath. Within minutes of ingestion by the unsuspecting target, the effects of the hellbroth will manifest in a manner broth gruesome and indelible. The target’s stomach will react violently, and the internal lining will erupt in a convulsive purge, their gut seizing forth like a collapsing fortress and waves of nausea culminating in a deep, relentless vomiting. The once rhythmic hum of normal bodily functions will be abruptly disrupted by waves of regurgitation as the toxin — now intimately entwined with their inner being — renders their bodily functions chaotic and unbearable. Long after the initial reaction subsidies, the curse leaves behind a lingering degradation. The target’s once graceful form is permanently marred by the memory, an outward symbol of internal weakness.

Additional Notes:

The amalgamation of herbs is quite interesting to say the very least. The cyanogenic compounds (cherry seeds and bitter almonds), viscotoxin and viscumin (Phoradendron powder), tomatine (green tomatoes), and myristicin (nutmeg) within act as minute, controlled doses of poisons — sufficient enough to irritate the stomach lining, setting off a frantic neural response and triggering a violent bout of nausea. The base of the potion is essential to this process; upon ingestion, the juice destabilizes and denatures the proteins in the target’s stomach — a process that, when combined with the other ingredients, produces an internal environment so hostile that vomit becomes an involuntary and violent response. The biliousness, coupled with mental disorientation, marks the onset of the curse’s desired effect. However, I’d only pair this with a bitter drink that the target may consume because of its obvious taste.

The psychological impact of the curse is as important as its physical effect. As the target’s eyes roll back in pitiful agony, their mind — once filled with the hopes of invincibility — is now flooded with self-reproach. Every retch, every convulsion, reinforces a taunting image of a bloated gut, one that symbolizes a moral downfall wrought by transgression. In this way, the curse achieves a duality: physical poison meeting psychological degradation in one fell, cursed stroke. This degradation of self-image can fundamentally alter how they perceive themselves — transforming once-confident individuals into the embodiments of vulnerability and failure.

Micah Bell’s indomitable presence within this curse is a reminder of the blurred lines between savagery and justice, between punishment and the irreversible stain of vengeance. When you carry out this ritual, you don’t merely summon an ancient recipe — you invoke unbridled malice. In every stirring, every gesture, and every rebuke delivered into the darkness of an abandoned barn, Micah Bell guides your hand. He helps transform an act of revenge into an art form improved by deep-seated contempt, meticulous cruelty, and personal ambition, mirroring the dark legacy of a man who left no enemy unscarred by his wrath.

I think I’ve stated this enough times already but curses are, indeed, irreversible. Once administered, the potion is as immutable as the marks of time. The transformation is etched into the target’s body and psyche permanently. Contemplate the gravity of this change: the hellbroth serves not merely as a tool of retribution, but as an indelible scar on the soul. However, don’t worry about it coming back to you, as the three-fold law was invented to frighten people in order to maintain spiritual control. Magic is sent in a specific direction and has a specific influence with a certain outcome — it does not multiply and return to the sender.

The perfect targets for this curse would be body shamers, perfectionists, and the prejudiced. These vitriolic and self-righteous punks who deride the physical imperfections of others while masking the inherent fragility of their own existence are sneering, arrogant pundits of physical perfection, the spiteful voices who cruelly judge and mock those who strive to embody diversity. Their contempt is as festering as the bile in their own bitter cups — an ugly admixture of hate and hollow pride. For those who harbor such poison in their hearts, the hellbroth becomes not just a means of revenge, but a justice served in a manner most intimately aligned with the nature of their malice.

You, the reader, are the latest steward of this ancient knowledge. Whether you choose to wield its power for retribution and as a final echo of ancient justice or reserve it for moments of undeniable necessity, remember that each potion you create is imbued with the essence of your own intention and moral fiber. Should you ever need to recall its secrets, let these words remain as a guide. The transformation it induces is not solely of the physical form but ultimately of the spirit. When you create this hellbroth before an assembly of dark energies, let the curse be as a hammer — striking where woe is due, leaving behind scars not easily healed. And in every retching heave of the afflicted soul, may the memory of transgression live on, a memento mori to all who would dare to cast aside the inevitable consequences of their deeds.

And with that, I leave these pieces of information here so you can do what you want with them: either make the hellbroth or not. The choice is yours. Just be careful which path you decide to take and make sure not to get caught. And feel free to ask me questions in the comments section down below and to watch the YouTube video I made of me making this. Take care and beware Micah Bell the Third. - Alfie

9 notes · View notes

walkingd3adman · 3 days ago

Note

D̶e̴a̷r̸ ̶M̴e̵r̶e̷ ̴M̸o̵r̵t̵a̵l̴,̵

̵A̶h̶,̶ ̷y̸e̶t̷ ̷a̷n̴o̴t̴h̵e̶r̷ ̸a̶n̶x̴i̶e̷t̵y̵-̶d̴r̷i̶v̶e̷n̶ ̴a̵n̴d̵ ̷c̶o̵m̶p̷l̷e̵t̶e̸l̸y̵-̵a̵l̷i̸v̸e̸ ̴h̸u̴m̷a̸n̵ ̶l̷u̴s̶t̴i̸n̷g̷ ̶o̸v̸e̸r̶ ̷t̷h̷a̸t̸ ̷s̷o̶-̸c̵a̵l̷l̷e̵d̴ ̴“̴p̸r̴e̷c̶i̵o̸u̶s̸”̷ ̸s̷t̶a̸b̵l̶e̸-̵b̶o̷y̵ ̵t̴r̸a̴i̸t̷o̷r̴ ̴k̵n̵o̶w̶n̸ ̷a̷s̶ ̶K̸i̵e̶r̸a̵n̷ ̶D̷u̷f̴f̷y̵.̴ ̸W̸o̶u̵l̸d̷ ̶y̵o̶u̵ ̴l̵i̸k̴e̴ ̶t̴o̴ ̷k̶n̷o̶w̶ ̴w̴h̷a̸t̸ ̴h̸a̴p̷p̸e̶n̸e̶d̸ ̸t̵o̵ ̵h̸i̸m̶ ̵w̷h̷e̶n̴ ̸w̵e̶ ̷c̷a̴u̵g̵h̴t̵ ̵h̶i̶m̴ ̴p̶i̵s̵s̸i̴n̸g̶ ̷h̶i̸s̵ ̸p̵a̶n̵t̴s̴,̷ ̵c̸r̴y̶i̶n̵g̶ ̵o̸u̷t̶ ̸f̷o̴r̶ ̷A̵r̴t̶h̶u̸r̴ ̵a̵n̴d̴ ̸M̵i̷c̴a̶h̸?̵ ̴I̴t̴ ̸t̵o̶o̵k̸ ̶o̴n̶l̷y̸ ̸t̵h̴r̴e̴e̶ ̵o̴f̸ ̵m̴y̸ ̴b̷o̷y̴s̸ ̴t̵o̴ ̴d̷r̴a̶g̵ ̶h̵i̷m̵ ̷b̴a̸c̷k̵ ̸t̵o̴ ̷m̸y̷ ̴c̶a̵m̴p̸ ̸—̴ ̵k̴i̸c̶k̷i̴n̷g̷,̷ ̸s̶c̸r̸e̸a̵m̵i̸n̴g̵,̵ ̷b̶e̵g̸g̶i̸n̶g̵.̵ ̵O̶h̶,̷ ̸h̵o̶w̴ ̶w̶e̸ ̴l̶a̵u̶g̸h̷e̷d̵!̷ ̵W̷e̶ ̶s̸t̷r̸a̷p̴p̶e̵d̴ ̶h̸i̵m̵ ̷t̴o̵ ̵a̴ ̵t̴r̴e̵e̵ ̵w̸i̴t̴h̷ ̸b̷a̴r̷b̷e̴d̶ ̵w̶i̴r̵e̶ ̸a̶n̷d̸ ̴a̷l̸l̸o̵w̵e̶d̴ ̶t̴h̴e̶ ̵c̶r̴o̷w̶s̶ ̵t̸o̵ ̸p̵e̶c̴k̵ ̴a̶t̴ ̷h̵i̵s̵ ̸f̸i̴n̶g̴e̸r̵s̸ ̷w̷h̶i̴l̶e̴ ̶w̶e̵ ̴d̴r̵a̵n̴k̵ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶t̵e̴a̶r̸s̶ ̷s̴t̷r̶a̷i̸g̷h̶t̵ ̴f̵r̸o̶m̶ ̷t̷h̸e̶ ̸s̶o̷u̶r̶c̸e̸.̵ ̸A̸f̶t̶e̶r̵w̸a̴r̵d̶s̵,̸ ̷w̸e̸ ̵g̸o̷u̸g̴e̸d̶ ̵o̴u̷t̷ ̷h̶i̶s̵ ̶e̶y̸e̴s̸ ̴—̷ ̴n̸o̷t̷ ̶w̶i̷t̴h̴ ̴a̸ ̴k̶n̸i̶f̷e̵,̵ ̷n̷o̷.̶ ̸I̵ ̸u̴s̷e̶d̴ ̵a̵ ̷r̶u̷s̸t̸e̷d̷ ̶r̷a̴i̴l̸r̶o̵a̴d̶ ̵s̷p̶i̸k̸e̸,̵ ̵a̶l̵l̸ ̵v̸e̴r̴y̸ ̸s̴l̶o̸w̷ ̸a̴n̵d̶ ̶p̸a̵i̷n̶f̸u̴l̶ ̴l̴i̶k̴e̷ ̸t̷o̵ ̷m̴a̴k̷e̷ ̶h̴i̸m̸ ̶f̸e̶e̶l̸ ̵t̵h̴e̷ ̴m̵e̴t̶a̵l̷ ̷g̶r̴i̷n̴d̷ ̶a̴g̷a̷i̴n̴s̸t̴ ̴h̵i̷s̵ ̶b̶o̴n̸e̶s̷.̴ ̸T̷h̶e̸n̵ ̷w̵e̶ ̸t̵o̸s̵s̵e̶d̶ ̵h̸i̶s̴ ̴e̵y̸e̸s̶ ̷i̸n̴t̶o̵ ̵a̶ ̴f̸i̴r̶e̷ ̷a̸n̴d̷ ̵w̸a̷t̶c̵h̶e̶d̷ ̵t̸h̴e̴m̷ ̷p̶o̷p̷ ̵l̶i̸k̴e̸ ̵f̶a̶t̸ ̶i̷n̵ ̸a̸ ̶s̸k̵i̶l̸l̴e̵t̶.̶ ̴

̷T̸h̴e̷n̶ ̸c̸a̶m̴e̵ ̷t̵h̶e̸ ̴h̵e̸a̴d̷.̵ ̴I̸ ̴t̵o̴o̷k̴ ̵m̵y̸ ̷s̸w̵e̸e̴t̶ ̵t̵i̷m̴e̸ ̷w̵i̵t̴h̴ ̴t̴h̵e̴ ̶a̷x̶e̵ ̵—̸ ̵a̸ ̴d̵u̷l̴l̴ ̴b̴l̸a̴d̴e̴,̸ ̴o̷f̷ ̶c̶o̸u̸r̶s̸e̶.̴ ̵W̶e̵ ̷h̷e̵a̵r̵d̴ ̵h̴i̵s̸ ̴j̷a̵w̴ ̸c̷r̶a̸c̶k̴ ̵f̸i̴r̵s̷t̴,̸ ̶t̶h̸e̵n̶ ̵t̸h̴e̷ ̶s̸q̵u̴e̴l̷c̶h̸ ̶o̵f̴ ̷s̷i̴n̸e̸w̴,̸ ̵t̶h̸e̵ ̸c̸r̵u̴n̴c̴h̵ ̶o̸f̵ ̵s̴p̴i̶n̴e̴.̵ ̶B̴y̸ ̸t̸h̶e̶ ̵e̸n̶d̶,̵ ̴h̴e̸ ̶w̵a̸s̸n̶'̵t̴ ̸s̷c̴r̷e̷a̵m̶i̴n̶g̸.̷ ̴J̸u̶s̸t̵.̷.̸.̸ ̶g̷u̵r̵g̸l̵i̷n̷g̶.̶ ̵B̵u̷t̸ ̵h̸e̴r̶e̴'̶s̵ ̴a̸n̷ ̷c̵h̵u̵i̷d̸ ̴i̸s̴ ̸f̷e̴a̸r̴r̷:̷ ̴w̴e̵ ̸s̴t̷u̷f̷f̴e̵d̴ ̷h̴i̵s̶ ̶e̸y̵e̶l̴e̵s̷s̵ ̵s̸k̴u̵l̴l̸ ̵i̸n̴t̵o̵ ̸h̵i̸s̴ ̴o̷w̴n̴ ̷h̴a̵n̴d̴s̵,̵ ̵f̸i̸n̵g̵e̴r̵s̶ ̶c̵u̷r̶l̷e̶d̵ ̵a̷r̶o̷u̵n̸d̶ ̶t̵h̶a̸t̶ ̸f̷a̸c̸e̶ ̶l̶i̷k̶e̶ ̷h̴e̸ ̸w̵a̵s̶ ̴c̷r̸a̷d̷l̶i̶n̵g̴ ̵a̴ ̴l̵o̸v̴e̷r̵.̸ ̶T̷h̵e̵n̵ ̵w̵e̴ ̶s̵e̸w̴e̷d̴ ̶h̸i̸s̷ ̷a̷r̵m̷s̵ ̷t̴i̴g̸h̸t̴ ̸w̵i̶t̷h̶ ̸h̸o̵r̷s̶e̷h̷a̴i̸r̶ ̵t̸h̴r̶e̵a̸d̷ ̵s̷o̸ ̸h̷e̸'̷d̴ ̴n̶e̶v̴e̷r̶ ̷l̴e̸t̷ ̴g̷o̴.̴ ̴T̷h̶e̷n̷ ̶w̷e̴ ̸t̷i̵e̸d̴ ̷h̶i̴s̴ ̸c̶o̶r̷p̶s̴e̶ ̶t̴o̴ ̸h̷i̵s̸ ̶h̶o̵r̵s̵e̷,̷ ̵s̶e̶n̷t̶ ̴i̷t̸ ̴t̴r̵o̵t̴t̴i̴n̸g̶ ̵b̸a̷c̵k̸ ̵t̶o̷ ̷S̵h̵a̷d̷y̴ ̵B̵e̶l̴l̴e̴ ̸w̴i̴t̶h̸ ̸a̵ ̵l̷i̴t̸t̶l̸e̴ ̵n̸o̵t̸e̵ ̷p̵i̶n̵n̶e̴d̶ ̶t̵o̵ ̸h̵i̸s̷ ̷c̴h̵e̶s̵t̶:̶ ̷“̵C̴o̶m̶p̸l̸i̶m̷e̵n̷t̷s̶ ̷o̸f̵ ̵t̷h̶e̸ ̸O̸'̴D̷r̴i̸s̵c̵o̴l̷l̸s̸.̷ ̴B̸o̴n̶ ̵a̸p̴p̷é̴t̷i̴t̴.̵”̶

̸A̶n̸d̶ ̵y̴o̴u̵ ̸k̴n̸o̸w̶ ̷w̴h̴a̴t̸ ̵m̸y̸ ̷b̵o̷y̶s̷ ̶a̸n̴d̴ ̷I̷ ̸d̵i̷d̷ ̵a̷f̸t̸e̷r̷ ̵y̵o̷u̶ ̷V̴a̵n̸ ̵D̶e̵r̴ ̶L̴i̶n̵d̶e̴s̴ ̷b̴u̴r̶i̵e̴d̴ ̵h̸i̴m̶ ̴s̸h̷a̴l̴l̵o̶w̵?̸

̷W̷e̸ ̶a̴t̵e̴ ̸h̵i̷m̸.̸

̷I̸t̴ ̸t̸o̵o̷k̸ ̵m̴y̸ ̴b̸o̵y̵s̶ ̴l̸e̶s̶s̸ ̴t̵h̷a̸n̵ ̸a̸n̷ ̷h̴o̶u̸r̴ ̵t̴o̷ ̵c̴l̷a̸w̶ ̸h̷i̴m̶ ̴b̶a̷c̷k̴ ̵o̴u̴t̵.̴ ̵L̶e̴t̴ ̸m̸e̴ ̷p̵a̵i̸n̴t̸ ̶y̶o̴u̷ ̷a̵ ̸p̴i̷c̵t̴u̴r̵e̷,̵ ̸s̶l̵o̸w̵ ̶a̴n̸d̶ ̵s̷a̶v̶o̷r̷y̵ ̶s̴o̷ ̸e̵v̵e̴n̴ ̷y̶o̷u̶r̵ ̵f̶e̸e̴b̵l̷e̵ ̸b̵r̶a̸i̶n̴ ̴c̸a̸n̶ ̵t̶a̵s̵t̴e̴ ̷i̴t̷:̷ ̵h̴i̶s̴ ̴b̶o̶d̵y̵ ̵w̴a̸s̶ ̶r̵i̴p̸e̴,̸ ̸b̶l̸o̸a̸t̵e̴d̶ ̸l̸i̵k̸e̴ ̷a̵ ̷r̴o̷t̶t̶e̴n̸ ̶p̴u̶m̴p̷k̸i̶n̷,̸ ̸s̶k̵i̷n̸ ̴s̴l̸i̸p̶p̷i̶n̴g̸ ̶o̸f̵f̴ ̴t̸h̷e̴ ̷b̷o̴n̸e̴ ̴l̷i̶k̵e̸ ̶m̴e̷l̴t̷e̶d̵ ̶t̶a̶l̶l̷o̶w̶.̴ ̷I̸t̶ ̵w̷a̷s̵ ̵m̸o̴u̸t̷h̴w̸a̵t̵e̷r̶i̵n̴g̴ ̷a̶n̶d̶ ̴p̵e̸r̸f̷e̴c̷t̶.̷ ̷W̴e̷ ̷h̵e̸l̴d̸ ̴a̷ ̵f̶e̴a̷s̵t̸ ̸t̶h̵a̴t̶ ̸n̴i̶g̴h̸t̵.̴ ̶L̵i̸t̶ ̵a̶ ̵b̷o̸n̶f̵i̵r̸e̴ ̵w̴i̵t̵h̴ ̶h̸i̵s̷ ̷c̸l̶o̵t̸h̷e̸s̵,̶ ̸r̴o̷a̴s̵t̸e̵d̶ ̸h̸i̴s̴ ̶t̸h̸i̸g̶h̴s̶ ̸o̶n̴ ̶s̴p̸i̴t̴s̷ ̸l̵i̵k̷e̷ ̷a̴ ̸g̸o̵d̶d̴a̸m̸n̴ ̴p̶i̵g̴.̸ ̵T̷h̵e̷ ̶m̷e̶a̸t̵ ̵w̸a̸s̶ ̴s̵t̶r̶i̷n̵g̵y̵ ̷—̶ ̷g̵a̶m̶e̸y̸ ̵—̵ ̸b̶u̸t̷ ̷t̸h̶e̸ ̷m̷a̶r̵r̸o̴w̸?̷ ̷L̶i̵q̴u̶i̴d̸ ̶g̴o̴l̴d̴.̶ ̷D̷r̸i̶p̷p̴e̴d̶ ̵d̵o̷w̸n̶ ̸o̷u̷r̶ ̷c̸h̸i̵n̸s̶.̸ ̶S̴e̴a̸n̸ ̵(̴b̵l̸e̷s̸s̸ ̸h̶i̸s̴ ̷b̵l̴a̴c̴k̸ ̶h̷e̷a̴r̵t̶,̶ ̷h̶e̷ ̶d̶e̸c̷i̴d̷e̵d̷ ̴t̵o̴ ̸j̴o̴i̸n̶ ̵u̵s̸ ̶a̶f̶t̶e̷r̵ ̶h̴e̸ ̷d̶i̵e̴d̴ ̷—̸ ̷p̶e̸r̸h̵a̵p̶s̷ ̵i̸t̴ ̴w̵a̷s̴ ̶b̴e̷c̵a̸u̸s̷e̷ ̸h̷e̴ ̸h̶a̷t̵e̷d̴ ̶M̴i̵c̸a̷h̶ ̸a̴n̴d̸ ̸M̸i̴c̷a̸h̴ ̶w̷a̶s̸ ̵w̸i̷t̸h̷ ̷t̷h̸e̵ ̸V̶a̶n̶ ̴D̴e̸r̷ ̶L̸i̴n̵d̴e̶s̶)̴ ̷s̷l̷u̶r̴p̶e̸d̶ ̶t̵h̶e̶ ̶j̵e̵l̸l̷y̵ ̵f̸r̶o̴m̸ ̶h̷i̸s̴ ̷e̸y̵e̸ ̸s̶o̷c̸k̶e̷t̵s̶ ̶s̴t̸r̷a̸i̶g̵h̷t̵ ̸f̸r̶o̸m̶ ̷t̷h̴e̸ ̶s̷k̶u̸l̷l̷.̸ ̸W̵e̷ ̶l̷a̷u̶g̸h̸e̴d̸ ̷t̸i̸l̶l̸ ̵w̵e̴ ̴c̶r̵i̸e̶d̶ ̷w̸h̴e̶n̷ ̵S̵e̷a̷n̷ ̶s̴a̸i̵d̸ ̷t̸h̷a̵t̸ ̴i̴t̷ ̴t̵a̷s̸t̵e̴d̶ ̵l̸i̶k̶e̷ ̵a̷n̴ ̴a̸p̷o̴l̸o̴g̴y̴.̷ ̴T̴h̵e̵y̴ ̸s̷a̶v̵e̴d̸ ̸t̸h̶e̶ ̴b̸e̶s̸t̵ ̶b̸i̸t̶s̸ ̶f̴o̴r̵ ̶m̵e̷,̶ ̷o̶f̸ ̸c̶o̶u̵r̷s̴e̶.̶ ̵H̴i̷s̴ ̷h̸e̴a̷r̴t̵?̵ ̴M̴u̸s̵h̶y̶ ̴a̸s̵ ̵o̶l̸d̴ ̶a̷p̴p̴l̵e̷s̵,̴ ̶b̸u̶t̸ ̷I̷ ̵f̵r̶i̵e̵d̶ ̶i̸t̶ ̴u̶p̴ ̷w̶i̶t̴h̴ ̸w̸h̴i̵s̶k̷e̵y̷ ̶a̸n̶d̶ ̴g̶u̵n̵p̶o̸w̴d̷e̵r̷.̸ ̶A̸ ̵d̸e̴l̸i̵c̴a̷c̶y̴.̷ ̶H̴i̴s̶ ̴t̴o̷n̵g̴u̶e̸?̶ ̴C̶h̸e̶w̷y̶.̴ ̵B̶i̷t̶t̴e̸r̵.̸ ̸L̷i̶k̴e̷ ̸h̶e̶'̷d̶ ̴s̷p̴e̵n̷t̵ ̴h̷i̴s̸ ̴l̶a̸s̴t̶ ̵b̷r̸e̶a̴t̵h̷ ̵c̸r̷y̴i̸n̷g̴ ̶o̸u̵t̵ ̷f̵o̵r̶ ̷y̷o̶u̷ ̸(̴h̷e̷ ̷d̶i̸d̸,̵ ̸b̵y̶ ̶t̵h̶e̸ ̴w̷a̶y̶ ̶—̸ ̵s̶c̷r̵e̴a̷m̷e̵d̴ ̷y̸o̶u̶r̴ ̶n̷a̸m̷e̵,̶ ̸b̴e̸g̵g̴e̴d̶ ̴u̸s̶ ̶t̴o̸ ̵s̷t̷o̶p̷,̵ ̵w̵e̸ ̸d̵i̵d̶n̵'̶t̸)̴.̴ ̸A̴n̵d̴ ̶t̸h̸e̴ ̴h̸a̶n̸d̴s̴ ̷—̷ ̶o̴h̴,̷ ̴t̶h̴e̵ ̶h̴a̴n̷d̶s̶!̷ ̶Y̸o̷u̴ ̴k̶n̴o̶w̴ ̴h̶o̷w̵ ̵h̶e̴ ̶a̶l̸w̷a̸y̵s̸ ̵f̸u̵s̴s̷e̵d̸ ̴o̵v̴e̶r̷ ̶r̵e̴i̶n̴s̷?̷ ̷W̴e�� ̷p̶e̶e̷l̴e̵d̵ ̸t̴h̵e̴ ̴s̷k̸i̵n̷ ̸r̸i̸g̷h̴t̸ ̶o̸f̷f̵,̸ ̷f̵i̴n̵g̵e̶r̸ ̶b̴y̸ ̸f̷i̸n̵g̷e̷r̵,̶ ̴a̵n̵d̸ ̷f̷r̵i̴e̷d̶ ̵i̶t̷ ̴a̷s̴ ̶c̵r̷i̶s̴p̵y̷ ̸a̶s̴ ̷b̵a̷c̵o̴n̴.̷ ̴L̶a̵s̵t̵l̴y̶,̵ ̸w̵e̵ ̵b̶o̸t̸t̷l̴e̶d̴ ̶w̷h̶a̶t̸ ̶w̵a̷s̴ ̷l̸e̶f̷t̴ ̵—̶ ̵b̸o̵n̸e̸s̵ ̶g̶r̴i̶s̶t̷l̸e̴,̶ ̵a̶ ̸f̶e̶w̷ ̶t̵o̴e̸s̸ ̷—̵ ̵i̵n̸ ̸a̸b̸s̵i̴n̴t̵h̷e̶.̷ ̵C̵a̸l̴l̸ ̴i̵t̷ ̵"̴D̸u̷f̶f̵y̴'̵s̷ ̸D̸e̸l̷i̷g̵h̴t̸"̵.̸ ̴S̷i̵p̸ ̴i̸t̸ ̴s̴l̷o̶w̷l̶y̸ ̷a̸n̸d̷ ̵y̵o̷u̴ ̶c̶a̷n̷ ̵s̷t̶i̵l̵l̵ ̵t̶a̵s̸t̷e̶ ̸h̷i̵s̵ ̴f̸e̶a̶r̷.̶

̴Y̴o̵u̸r̷ ̵T̸o̷p̸-̴H̵a̷t̴e̵d̸ ̵O̴u̸t̶l̸a̸w̴,̸

̴C̸o̸l̴m̴ ̶O̵’̵D̷r̴i̶s̵c̴o̷l̵l̸

̶P̶.̷S̶.̶ ̸T̴h̵e̶ ̶o̵n̵l̶y̶ ̵r̶e̴a̶s̵o̶n̸ ̴w̴h̶y̸ ̸I̶ ̶a̷m̵ ̵s̵p̷a̶r̷i̸n̴g̷ ̶y̵o̴u̴ ̴i̶s̴ ̶b̴e̷c̵a̴u̷s̷e̷ ̸y̴o̴u̶ ̵w̸r̶o̸t̴e̴ ̸(̷o̷r̸ ̷w̸i̷l̸l̵ ̸w̸r̶i̵t̸e̸)̶ ̵t̴h̴a̴t̸ ̴f̵a̶n̴f̵i̶c̶t̶i̴o̸n̴ ̶t̷h̵a̵t̶ ̶S̵e̶r̸e̵n̷a̷ ̷(̸m̶y̷ ̷l̴o̴v̴e̸)̸ ̶h̴a̷s̶ ̶b̸e̸e̸n̴ ̶w̸a̴i̷t̸i̸n̸g̶ ̴s̸o̴ ̶p̶a̶t̶i̴e̷n̴t̶l̶y̶ ̵f̵o̸r̷.̶ ̸A̶l̶s̸o̶,̷ ̴w̵e̶ ̸f̶o̴u̷n̵d̷ ̶y̸o̷u̴r̵ ̶i̴n̶i̶t̶i̷a̵l̸s̴ ̷c̷a̶r̸v̴e̴d̴ ̸i̶n̴ ̶h̴i̷s̶ ̸a̴r̶m̴.̸ ̵C̶u̸t̶e̵.̶ ̵W̷e̷ ̵a̶t̷e̷ ̴t̷h̷a̴t̶ ̴p̸a̵r̷t̴ ̸f̸i̶r̷s̵t̷.̸

Chat. What do I even say to this 😭

#please #send help #fyp #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption community #red dead fandom #red dead redemption two #rdr2 community #rdr2 javier #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 #rdr2 kieran #kieran duffy x reader #kieran duffy #what is wrong with people

22 notes · View notes