feck titles

[iriish]

“You’re my Dad! Boogie woogie woogie!”

[rcris123]

“I’m a dad??“

Boogie woogie woogie?????????????

[iriish]

"You're my Dad! Boogie woogie woogie!"

[iriish]

thread ; no signs no lights

[iriish]

He ain’t ‘bout to be insensitive to a child’s drama, but what can he do, it ain’t just ‘bout him; he can’t just take a kid off the streets and bring him back to Dutch no matter how much he’d like to. That’s Dutch’s business not his.

He has to walk away now.

But when that boy cracks the question about keeping the chocolate ‘cause he ain’t looking the type to like sweets he just laughs. He didn’t even buy that chocolate; it was from Jack.

“A kid gave me that chocolate so it’s from one kid to another I guess…“

That was putting too much water in it and he should go back to Javier and Charles in the saloon-

Arthur spins on his heels: “ ‘Kay, listen here, kid. You know Horseshoe Overlook? Head over there and see what happens.” He leaves, but not without first saying: “Good luck.” 

See what happens? The chocolate doesn't melt in his fingers, they're too cold for that, but the paper is crumbling and Mikaela can feel it break a bit in his grasp. Good luck? With an open mouth he stands there, felt the horse's breath tickling his hair, hears the man's footsteps and then some banter from within the saloon. 

Little Mikaela, lost and cold and hungry beyond imagination, was not sure what to do. He didn't even say thank you! Didn't even learn that man's name--- one look at the horse is met with suspicion from said animal. 

„What are you looking at me for? Humans are funny, right..?“ He is one to talk... it's been a couple of months since he was bitten. He is still very much human, although... he slowly starts to fell less and less like one. Hunger disappeared, made place for thirst--- or was it really just the same? 

„What do I do? Huh? No! It's mine!“ The horse tried to boop Mikaela's head, reached for the money in his hand and blew some air, finally triggering Mikaela to retreat and stare in the direction he knew the Overlook was. Last time he checked it was abandoned, though, no one there, some rubbish and a carcass of a deer. 

After a deep breath, a glance at naked toes and as soon as the ten dollars were tucked away next to the gun he stole from the vampire, Mikaela is on his way to Horseshoe Overlook and its quite the distance for little legs to walk. Running was... still too suspicious.

The Overlook is hidden from prying eyes, Mikaela approached from the west hoping the trees would hide him as well, he's silent, after all made to hunt and kill. Naivety gets the better of him, same as recklessness, one false step to the side and he hears someone yell out to him, the cocking of a shotgun. 

„I--- no no, I'm-“ - „Ah, jaysus, its a fucken CHILD. The hell ye want here?“ He's smelled that guy, sure he did, but Mikaela simply hoped he wasn't paying enough attention... 

„I was told to get here! And see what happens! You know? Is that how you lure little kids in?! A big guy told me to get here after he gave me money.“ He leaves out the part where he stole from him. 

„Oh. Did he give ye a name?“ The other guy holds the gun but doesn't aim at Mikaela, thank God. „---My name is Mikaela.“ - „No! That--- that man's name--- shite, don't ye play dumb with me.“ Mika resists to laugh. Barely. 

„He didn't tell me. Big feller! Waistcoat, uhm... long hair, like this? Ah! He has a white horse!“ 

- „Ah.. English...“

[iriish]

thread ; no signs no lights

[iriish]

To his surprise the kid don’t run- at least he don’t run far, only hid behind a horse. He doesn’t reckon that’s a particularly bright idea.

The kid looked a step away from death, thin and sickly, skin so pale it might as well have been a sheet of paper, blue eyes were bright and opened wide in a way that almost felt uncanny: the same way skin peeled back from corpses as they rot.

Arthur takes a look at what he stole: a chocolate bar.

“That ain’t gonna keep you fed for long.“ He might as well let him have it; it was just a chocolate bar.

But a sigh crops up within him and bursts the longer he looks. “Fine.” He hands the boy 10 dollars. “Go get yourself some real food. And talk to uhm… some stable-hand, kid, get yourself a job somewhere.”

He doesn’t want to admit how much this reminded him of how he once was some good 20 years back: just an orphan running the streets, causing chaos. Seems like the only difference between a young ruffian Arthur and this kid was the latter’s lack of a gun.

Should he bring this up to Dutch? They don’t have much space and they got plenty mouths to feed already- 

Here's the thing about humans Mikaela almost forgot; some were simply kind. It took a moment for the ice to break, but when it does it would allow the sun to peek through; much like Mikaela did before he stepped beside the horse to face this man who neither yelled nor scolded him much, didn't raise a gun, hands loosely at his sides. 

Mikaela notices his stares, though, how he scans him up and down, bare feet and arms, hair hard from dirt and grease, dried blood all over his shirt and underneath his nails. 

He doesn't want to think about this too much. Hesitantly he takes the money, eyes it as if he's never seen anything like this before and almost drops the chocolate bar. He can trade that somewhere! Right? But getting a job..? He tried... he really did! 

„The people here don't want me working for them! I...“ No, he breaks the sentence, sees no use telling a stranger how he should better get out of Valentine. A kid on the road, vampire or not, just doesn't do well out there. 

„Thank you!“ Mikaela manages a smile as bright as the sun. But... „---Do I get to keep the chocolate? You don't look like the type to eat sweets!“

[iriish]

It was a strangers voice and Johnny looked up at the closed door. He swallowed, still fearful of who he may find. Would they blame him? The sheriff back home did, blamed him for killing that little girl. When really he was just the one to find her.

He stood, his legs feeling weak and wobbly beneath him. Johnny gripped the door knob, his large hands encompassing it. Swallowing he inched the door open just enough to peak out at the stranger. His gaze fell downward, meeting the top of Sean’s head.

Sniffling he opened the door a bit more, “They just, killed em.” Johnny whispered, his voice wavering as he spoke. “I tried stopping em, but Austin wouldn’t listen.” He choked on a sob, more tears rolling down his cheeks. He finally opened the door completely and he realized he towered over the stranger. Much like he did everyone else.

Johnny paused, his dark eyes falling onto his hands which were covered in blood. He begin to tremble again and with a gasp he started to wipe the blood onto his shirt. “I don’t understand.” He said real slowly, his voice slurring with a obvious speech impediment. “Why’d they go and do that?”

When first Seán hears the voice coming from a bit above, he barely has the time to think about it. It's not rare that people are much taller than him, but this one takes the cake from the top shelf. A cough gets stuck in his throat as soon as Seán tries to respond; 

all that comes from him is a weak whine, something that barely resembles a cough once the other steps outside, tall, crying, bloody. This sobbing mess of a a´man doesn't necessarily catch Seán off guard, but he can't help but stare motionless up at the man, mouth open a lil', eyes even wider. What the hell... 

„They? Who?“ Seán takes a step back. He thinks about getting his gun ready, but as of now its loosely in his right hand, safety not taken off yet and perhaps he doesn't need it to be off. 

„Were they ye'r family?“ He manages to tear his eyes from the other male, looks over at the corpses laying on the ground. Things click into place inside his head, slow, sure, but in the end they matched. 

„Ye ain't attacked 'em, rite? Ain't me who's gonna harm ye! Jus'--- try 'n calm down.“ So, would Dutch mind? Whether that guy's an outlaw or without a family now won't matter much, huh? Seán ain't been much different. 

But Seán doubts he got much say in who gets to come along and who don't. Leavin' someone out here has a bitter taste, imagining it could've been him stung sharp. „What's ye'r name?“

[iriish]

thread ; no signs no lights

[iriish]

It’s about as an eventful night as ever in Valentine - and he really shouldn’t try his luck on that front. This saloon really don’t like him much, but Javier wanted to have a talk about something he found out just next to here.

He hitches Ghostface, a freckly white mare with a face pale as fresh snow, just outside the place; she used to be a wild mustang but she stuck around him and he needed a horse. There was one thing he had to give this horse: she was stupidly brave.

He heads inside and salutes: “Javier.” the man’s leaning on the bar, looking outside.

“Arthur.“ he beckons, and then just as he finally gets comfortable: “I think a street rat’s trying to steal from your saddlebags.“

Arthur furrows his eyebrows, turns his head to look back; sees a blond mop of hair just about the size of his horse’s rump, looks at Javier again, gives a sigh, spins on his heels and trots back out. If Javier laughs about this-

“Hey!“ he calls out to the kid. “The Hell you doing there, boy!“

Don’t run, don’t run- 

Mikaela can barely get the buttons loose when he hears heavy footsteps approach; still fumbling with the buttons on the saddlebag, trying to get anything out of there at best, the boy hopes he is fast enough to bail once he gets caught--- a chocolate bar is all he can grab! 

Startled, even though he knew someone was coming, Mikaela clutches the treat close to his chest and peeks at the other from behind the horse before he dares to show himself. 

„You, uh...“ Words are dry and sharp in his throat, refuse to come out properly with the knowledge of himself not being able to eat the chocolate anyway without throwing up, „I'm hungry. Mister.“ 

Mikaela wasn't a threat. No grown man is going to punch a child--- but things work different down here, he figured that out already... 

Still, with a motionless heart and wide blue eyes he's staring at the huge man, can hear the snickers from his partner in the saloon.

[rcris123]

Thread; Road Trip

[iriish]

“There he is.“ Arthur can’t help the chuckle. He heard that back inside the house.”You couldn’t’ave packed ye’r bag last night, Seán? I already closed the trunk. You’re sitting with it in ye’r lap kid.“ It’s a 5 hours drive there, he’s got the GPS all set up.

A yawn catches up on him; he takes the fist to his mouth to cover it. He needs a coffee. Ah.

“Mornin’ Buck.“ He greets Sebastian the moment he’s outside with his- their daughter. Smile’s on; this is somehow unreal. “You can get in the car. You too Seán. Hosea, what you doin’ up there ol’ man!“

There’s a hard slam of the bathroom door downstairs and the man comes out, fancy hat well fitted on his head.

“You really want to hear about an old man’s prostate problems, don’t you?“ Hosea’s cackle never really gets old.

“Well I sure do hope I ain’t gonna get there.“ A chuckle of his own. “Now c’mon it’s quite a drive up there.“

“I do enjoy sight seeing.“

And he’s driving, Sebastian on his right, Sean, Lily and Hosea in the back. And there’s coffee, courtesy of his husband. Yeah he’s getting a kiss for that, or a few~ ‘kay, no, he’s done. He takes a sip from the cup to his side, turns on the GPS and hollers:

“Y’all ready and comfortable back there?“ 

„Aye, Hosea, I ain't too fond of you talkin' 'bout ye'r old-man-issues, yet here we are--“ Seán's getting into the car, a bit grouchy and grumpy with that stupid bag in his lap which he tries to fit on the ground between his legs somehow. 

Lily pokes him with her foot and as soon as Hosea gets on the other side, with Lily between them, there ain't enough space for Seán to store anything anywhere. He groans trying to sit back up straight--- Sebastian's grinning into the travel mug, barely resists making a comment... 

„Looks pretty comfortable to me,“ Sebastian says, „Let's go!“ Engine's kicked into action. 

„This ain't comfy at all--- Lily, no, don't ye DARE-“ There she goes, pulling Seán down so she can fit her tiny pink sunglasses on his nose. Fine. Alright. She's a kid, he can't even get revenge for that. 

„Mine now.“ - „No!“ - „Buck, the kids are fighting.“ - „No, we ain't!“ 

Seán looks at Hosea for help, but those stupid sunglasses ruin his image and Lily does her best to stop him from taking them off again.

[iriish]

thread ; no signs no lights

starter for @rcris123​ !!!

It's been days. Far too many to count. He stopped after twenty, the counting and the caring, but never the shivering. Especially when it rained, mostly when people shot him weird glances. 

The only thing Mikaela has left from the place he fled from was a funny necklace and a bitemark on his neck – ah, and fangs, pretty sharp, they hurt his lower lip because he isn't used to them yet. The small boy doubts he ever will be. As he sits there in the mud surrounded by flies and with cold feet, his mind begins to wander back to his family that died, the creatures that killed them all, the one who... changed him. 

He wished he would've died, too, but fate has been cruel to him. This was worse than death, he thinks, one of his fingers drawing figures in the nasty mud. There aren't many people around this time of day as it bled into night, sun's setting, his eyes getting sharper in the darkness. 

One person in particular caught his gaze, a man taller than a few he's seen around mounted on a pretty horse, wearing a cowboy hat and heavy guns on his back. He hitches his horse in front of the saloon, gives the animal some strong paps before heading inside--- 

and Mikaela, dumb and starving and cold, sneaks up to the horse from the side in a weak attempt to search the saddle-bags for something useful, clothes, money, anything,ever since he figured out animals aren't scared of him he took it as a sliver of hope in these times. 

No one's on the street and the horse eyes him suspiciously; he can barely reach to open the bags---

[iriish]

A whimper trembled his bottom lip, fresh and old tears mixing together down the apples of his cheeks. He was surrounded by darkness, but he had put himself there. The little closet of the home he had broken into was safe and comfortable.

His white shirt was stained with dried blood. The scene outside the closet, a blood bath of corpses. Him and his friends, they had forced their way into building with the intent of robbing the place. Johnny never liked stealing, but Austin said they needed to.

So he agreed to help.

But he didn't agree to the killing. It frightened him, the way Austin's face grew dark when he murdered the happy little family. The blonde demanded Johnny come with, to leave the house with him.

Johnny hid instead and Austin left him with the rest of the gang. Left him in the closet, shaking from head to toe.

He's always been one up for adventures. Arson, mischief, that kinda stuff. Never passing up an opportunity to ride out all by himself – even though some gang members advised him not to – all so he could get away for a lil, possibly snatch some information, a bottle o' whiskey, some money. Preferably money, but... he ain't picky today. 

It as a matter of time for Seán to find something that piqued his interest, high enough for him to abandon all caution and jump right into the next perhaps dangerous situation; with his pistol loaded and ears sharp he's been listening to the commotion a bit ahead, gunshots, screams, and soon the thundering sound of hooves, men on the run, some shouting, a few cheering – on he goes, from where the tracks lead back to their previous location since its best not to run into them lads. 

That house they robbed still stood, windows shattered and blood sprinkled on the shards on the dirt next to the door--- chances are they left stuff behind, slimmer chances might make Seán go home with some cash or at the very least leftover food. 

The man ventures inside, avoids the shards of glass and bullet shells, the corpses; man, woman, child. It runs down icy his spine at the sight, truth be told, an outlaw he may be and killing part of his life at this point, but... a child, no, that's a whole different deal to Seán. 

He tears his gaze away from the dead bodies and begins to search, pistol in hand, the other's going through cabinets, checking underneath the sink, for loose panels on the walls--- until he hears shuffling inside a closet. 

First thought's that someone survived this mess, he hopes to find a kid in there, makes plans already to get the lil feller to the next town for more help than he could provide. 

          „Hey, lad. They're gone, promise! I ain't gonna harm ye.“

[iriish]

[[ UPDATED the muse list. their information is now added on the blog uwu ]]

SEÁN MACGUIRE - main muse, red dead redemption 2 HYAKUYA MIKAELA - owari no seraph SEBASTIAN CASTELLANOS - the evil within EDDIE GLUSKIN - outlast: whistleblower YAMAOKA RIN - dead by daylight CHLOE PRICE - life is strange ]]

[iriish]

( pr. cr. ) featuring muses from various video games and manga

[iriish]

[[ tag dump !! ]]

[iriish]

you're gonna have to change the username then :( shame, i quite liked it

[[ nah, mate, im probably not going to make too many changes. i love the name, dont see why i would have to change it! Seán is still the main man and i doubt i will get to use any other muses bc people tend to be less interested in them, its really just for myself. ]]

[iriish]

[[ would ANYBODY mind if i made this blog multimuse? ]]

[iriish]

[[ life’s been busy and im sorry for not doing replies in some time. i’ll try to be online this week. ♥ ]]

[iriish]

thread ; spanish sahara

[iriish]

“Ouch… I’m sorry to hear that…“ But why didn’t he enroll someplace else? There must be other schools just as good as Blackwell or even better; all Blackwell had was that mister Valentini teaching the photography class, oh yeah the photography course was unique to here. That was enough reason for Malik to enroll here.

This place feels more like home than any bit of Egypt ever did. Like Americans say it: Fuck it. He needs to make most of it now.

“Do… Sebastian and Arthur know?“ it’s all he can ask at this point even though it’s irrelevant, but he’s just hoping that Seán was more sincere with them than any other police; he wonders if they were part of the investigation.

And finally: “I’ll help you look for her.” It’s the least he could do. 

„See, ah... her parents don't want no one investigating anymore, that's what Arthur told me. That was five months ago, so they decided after a month that she just... ran away. But she... she wouldn't have gone anywhere without me, y'know?“ Seán takes a moment to breathe through, get all that bothers him out with one long, quiet exhale--- he continues to talk, hasn't talked THAT much in weeks, months... 

„Tho, she said she found someone who, uh, changed her life, she did. If... if anything's happened to her... I dunno. I really miss her.“ Even though they had more troubles with money and drugs and alcohol than Seán ever imagined to have, more than he has at this moment, even though gathering money to get away from Arcadia was his only goal, the one Karen left behind for him to take care of if she's still out there... For whatever reason. 

„Somet'ing must've happened,“ he says then, looks at Malik, „I'd do everyt'ing to find her.“

[rcris123]

Thread; Road Trip

[iriish]

He slams the trunk of the jeep with force; thing is old and mostly run down and now it’s filled to the brim with baggage, he’s really hoping it’s going to hold. They’re going to be out there for a whole week he doesn’t want the car to break down in the middle of nowhere - though counting on his luck it probably will.

And still he can’t say he ain’t excited about this. Sebastian’s coming, Lily, Hosea and even Sean. It feels like some family outing and he ain’t had one of ‘em for a long while, ever since that Dutch business…

But things turned out okay in the end. He ain’t ever though he’s going to see himself an married man, but well, seems there’s a first time for everything. And it’s only been a couple of weeks since too, they still got to move out of the apartment and give the kid a proper place to live. Hosea said something about a house he’s managed to buy in installments so there’s still quite some to pay for that, but he’s thinking they can manage.

But for now:

“So who’s ready for a road trip!“ he calls out, smile wide on his face.

He’s going to wait leaned on the side of the car for everyone to gather. It was a fine morning, sun was shining and the weather was cool; September announced itself mild. 

„Seán!“ Once. He tries to close the zipper of his bag with haste, afraid he's gonna rip it. 

„SEÁN!“ Twice. Now he thinks he should call back to Sebastian, just to assure he's on his way, stumbling down the stairs already with that stupid fucken bag in his hands--- 

„MISTER MACGUIRE!“ Okay, that does it, he yells right back at him, had his head bowed the whole time focused on the zipper---- and he bumps right into Sebastian on the bottom of the stairs, pushes him back, rips the bag open. 

„Awh, shite...“ - „You won't need all that stuff--- what is in there, anyway?“ - „Clothes, duh! Arthur got me guitar in the truck a'ready, well, I hope he does!“ 

Sebastian's not convinced, but neither is Seán with that broken bag and spare clothes that tumbled onto the ground before Sebastian's feet. Least they picked it up together and stuffed it back inside, now Sebastian took over, allowed himself to go full Dad-mode. 

„No one ever taught you how to pack a god damn bag? Come on outside, I'm gonna get it fixed for you.“ Why, thanks Dad sits on his lips but he keeps them sealed rather than getting into trouble with the old man, and once they're outside with Lily waiting impatiently on the doorstep, hair bound back into a ponytail, they're good to go--- only Hosea's still missing. 

„And ye wanted me to hurry up? Man.“