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if you’re keen to continue writing with me please follow me over @velvetipped ! just wanted a nice fresh start.
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@a-velvetipped
THIS BLOG IS NOW ARCHIVED.
if you’re keen to continue writing with me please follow me over @velvetipped ! just wanted a nice fresh start.
half of me wants to make a new blog and archive this one to kind of start fresh because i’m ... so disorganised over here but then the other half of me is like but what if that annoys people 🤔🤔🤔
suresaint· ( ft ZELDA ! )
Business as usual in these parts. They have to. It doesn’t matter to their customers what’s going on behind closed doors. A girl has gone missing, but she’s only a harlot so all these “good” and “respectable” folk don’t care what may have happened to her.
Zelda, for one, will not be surprised if the girl’s body is found in some ditch somewhere in a few weeks time. On her side and rotting. That or she’s been fed to the ‘gaters already, and then they’ll never find her poor body ‘cept for maybe an arm, a torso, or a tattered, dirtied piece of the dress she was wearin’ when she was murdered. Discarded like a pig’s carcass after it’s had every bit of its flesh stripped and taken and used up by its butchers.
It is the last thing she expects the sheriff’s wife to bring up, and so casually! Her smile falls and she steps into the lady’s space, only removing her stare from her face to glance behind at the patrons. Most, if not all, of the chatter has stopped now. There’s not one pair of eyes that isn’t on them, listening, waiting. That’s the ironic thing about all of this.
They all know about the missing girl but since it don’t bring them no pleasure then they’ll ignore it ‘til there’s somethin’ new to be said about it. Then suddenly they’re all ears. They want the gossip. It’s titillating to those whose lives are ordinary and comfortable. A dead prostitute’s about as much entertainment to them as when a prostitute’s on her back.
“Don’t talk so loud about it out here.” She looks about as serious as a man at a gamblin’ tables who’s about to gamble away his final, desperate treasure.
Placing her hand to the woman’s elbow in what is perhaps an incredibly uncustomary way, she starts to guide her with a little urgency to the back rooms, telling one of the working girls on their way by to kick the party back up, and by the time that the two are alone she can hear that someone has started hittin’ on the piano again.
She says nothing for a minute. Wipes a hand over her brow as she paces the room, thinking on it. What’s the sheriff’s wife goin’ to be able to achieve? “Your husband doesn’t care ‘bout our missin’ girl. She’s a prostitute. And an immigrant from Ireland!” They all know how a large portion of the American people felt about immigrants. ‘Specially the police ‘round these parts. The sheriff’s wife has to be aware of that too.
“Listen, I mean no offence when I say this, one woman to another, but you’re just a woman. An’ a married one at that. What could you possibly do to help?”
“ PROSTITUTE OR NOT - she is still a human being. “ and you will stand by that. you do not care what scrapes a woman finds herself in - she will always be a woman to you . . . and women should be treated with a little more respect. “my husband doesn’t care because he’s a man and men see these women as some sort of object to be used. and as for her being an immigrant? “ you have to laugh a little at that but it’s a bitter laugh because you’re not feeling all too amused right now. “aren’t i an immigrant? england and ireland are neighbours. i don’t see you treating me with as little respect as you seem to be treating her. “ you don’t think that zelda cares. to you, miss niles is just like the rest of them. ignorant.
“ you may mean no offence, miss niles - but you are extremely offensive. “ sharp tongue bites a little with your response. “ i may be a woman - i may have breasts and a little less between my legs than my husband . . . but i can do his job with my eyes closed. i can help by gathering up all the evidence and going out to look for this poor woman instead of sitting around like everybody else and acting like she’s just nipped out to the store. she isn’t out buying canned goods, zelda. she’s missing and she’s been missing for days. maybe if i act quick enough now, we’ll find her and she won’t be cold.” you say it as it is because it’s the brutal fact of life. “now you can stay here and play piano for a bunch of brain-dead imbeciles or you can actually do something useful and help me out. who was she with when you last saw her? was she acting strangely? did you notice anything different about her? all of this will help you just have to comply with me. “
sc / @youmoveon ( ELIZABETH & RIVER ! )
❛ THIS HERE PLACE ‘AINT FIT FOR A LADY. ❜ you tip your hat towards her, your way of being courteous. ❛ there’s some bad men around these parts, misses. they get one look at you and they’ll try an’ own you. and ‘aint no man got any business ownin’ a beautiful woman like yourself. ❜
like for a starter from my outlaw bae elizabeth cooper.
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ok guys meet my two new ocs
elizabeth cooper
and bridgette watson …
both belonging to the same gang (bridgette’s gang!) bridgette found elizabeth when she was a baby and had been abandoned by her mother and decided to take her in, raising her alongside a bunch of misfits and outlaws in order to create the perfect criminal.
IF YOU WANNA READ THERE (BASIC) BIOS, YOU CAN FIND ELIZABETH’S HERE AND BRIDGETTE’S HERE.
ok guys meet my two new ocs
elizabeth cooper
and bridgette watson . . .
both belonging to the same gang (bridgette’s gang!) bridgette found elizabeth when she was a baby and had been abandoned by her mother and decided to take her in, raising her alongside a bunch of misfits and outlaws in order to create the perfect criminal.
are there any red dead blogs on here? or muses with red dead/wild west verses? making a couple of ocs and i’m .... eager to play around with them
this dumb website is in need of some love, so reblog this if you like the person you reblogged it from!!!
this dumb website is in need of some love, so reblog this if you like the person you reblogged it from!!!
SHIP AESTHETIC 003 // I PUT A SPELL ON YOU. ( siobhan & fiona. )
I love you anyhow
this dumb website is in need of some love, so reblog this if you like the person you reblogged it from!!!
this dumb website is in need of some love, so reblog this if you like the person you reblogged it from!!!
suresaint· ( ft ZELDA ! )
Tonight, like all the other nights, the parlour was smothered in a haze of cigar smoke and smelt of sweaty bodies, whiskey and cheap perfume. The only thing that could be seen through the smog were the glowing gas lights hanging from the walls and wooden beams, but even the light emitting from these lanterns was poor; dimmed by the dusty, browning glass encasing it. For as long as she can remember, those lanterns never got wiped down. But it hardly mattered. The patrons who visited this particular spot in St. Denis weren’t here for the brothel’s decor, but for the women it had to offer. And they were fine, young women. Nice women. Funny women. Women who she understood had more to offer than just their cunts, though that was all the interest that they got was for. A warm, wet hole for a couple hours and a couple dollars. That was all.
Ain’t a man around who cared to know their names. Just as well, because this way none of these men realised just how stupid they were bein’ when they talked about their wives and their children, or their property, their land, or how much money they had in their banks. The women hear everything here. In fact, she wagers they know more about the men who visit than what their wives do, and men like to be listened to, so they keep coming back, and they keep spending their cash, and fucking, and drinking, and talking. Shit, she actually thinks there was more talking being done than there was fucking. She sees and hears all of it, not because she is one of the girls but because she lives in the room at the very top of the building. The madame paid her for her and her girls’ protection through board and half a wage, which was fine with her as long as she had a bed to sleep in and warm food to eat.
And she loved ‘em, the girls, and had a little somethin’ with their mistress. They liked flirtin’ with her and battin’ their eye lashes at her, and sometimes a few of ‘em would come up to her room in their white gowns and sit on her bed and talk to her, and gossip to her. Used to kiss her a little too, ‘til Madame Jennie found out and scolded ‘em for kissing the protection. She likes to think that the woman was a little jealous. Anyway, they still kiss her, just they do it a little more secretly now, but still openly call her their lovin’ husband. In turn she calls ‘em all her pretty wives. It only started as a way of teasin’ their mistress for her funny rule. No kissin’ the guard dog, she’d said, which was a bit rude, but when she thinks on it she supposes she is a little like a dog. She shags like one. That had been almost five years ago to this day, and things had stayed pretty much the same, save for a few girls comin’ and goin’…
Tonight she sits at the half out of tune piano and runs her fingers lithely along the yellowing keys, a cigar burning away between her lips, her shirt sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her chest glistening with sweat through its open collar as she looks back at the throe of drunk, hearty dancers stomping and skipping around the middle of the room. They kick up the dust from the floorboards and spill their drinks out of their glasses, but no one cares. They’re just laughing and dancing and groping at each other, and she’s all fine ‘til the saloon doors swing open and the Sheriff’s pretty wife walks in. Her fingers stumble over the piano keys in surprise and comes to a jarring stop, and everyone groans, and swears, and implores her to keep on playing, but she doesn’t. She waves ‘em off, plucks the cigar from her mouth and puffs out the smoke before stopping the married lady at the doors.
“’Scuse me,” she starts, and seems to grow taller now that she’s off of the stool. “But this ain’t much of an establishment for a lady.” A small smile drags up one side of her mouth until she’s grinning somethin’ dirty. “A… dis-respectable persons en’erprise only.”
YOUR HUSBAND IS A USELESS MAN. of course, what would you expect with him being a man? they might think they own the place but you know far more women who use their heads than you do men. stick a shiny sheriff’s badge on one and he starts to think that he’s the bee’s knees . . . your husband is the poster child for that. and yet here you are, doing his work - a ‘ man’s ‘ job, because he doesn’t deem this case important enough. he knows better than to answer to you and you were adamant that you would go to investigate. he meets you with a ‘ do what you want, honey. ‘ and a ‘ if you must. ‘ and you must because the life of a woman is important and if you can find her . . . or help . . . then you’re doing some good in the world.
you might not wear the same badge as your husband but folk around here know your business. you climb off your horse, your loyal steed guinevere, and you pat her and tell her what a good girl she is before feeding her a sugar cube. and then your boots carry you up onto the wooden stairs in front of the establishment and you soon enter with your head held high. the whole place smells like booze and smoke and you’re tempted to cough. but you don’t, because you’re a lady and you don’t want to draw too much attention to yourself.
but it’s too late. you’ve already gathered enough attention to feel eyes on you from every corner. they know who you are - you’re sheriff drake’s wife. they might not know your name - they may just know your title, your status - but they all know your game. you’re definitely not welcome here, you can feel it in the stares but nobody says anything to you . . . nobody except her.
you know of zelda niles and you know that she isn’t like the other women here. she’s much more like one of the men except - less sleazy. but she’s definitely not like any other of the women you’ve met since being here. she approaches you and you keep your posture straight, standing just a little bit taller than her. ❛ i’m not here to seek pleasure, miss niles. ❜ although you’re certain you’d find more fun here than you would at home. ❛ heard about a lady that’s gone missing - one of your ladies. ❜ and yet it surprises you that this place is still bustling as much as it is, even with a girl missing. ❛ thought i could be of some help. ❜
am i thinking of making an outlaw oc based in the wild west with suranne jones as fc?????? ya bet i am
cruciatustm· ( ft AGNES ! )
“bullshit! i’m his daughter, not some cry baby.”
@velvetipped
·· //
sc. (vill)
❛ NO - YOU’RE A BIG STINKY cry baby. run home and cry to your daddy. ❜