thus always to tyrants

oc/multi-muse blog | selective | 20+ | oc friendly | low activity | loved by Maria 𓍊𓋼𓍊

[mossycabin]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐍. 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑒, 20+ 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑂𝐶𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝐶𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑎, 𝑂𝑢𝑡𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡, 𝑅𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝐸𝑣𝑖𝑙, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑅𝑒𝑑 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑅𝑒𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝐼𝐼, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝐴𝑙𝑎𝑛 𝑊𝑎𝑘𝑒, 𝐷𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝐵𝑦 𝐷𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝑉𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑦𝑟, 𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑀𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑦, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒! 𝑐𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑, 𝑂𝐶 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑦. 𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑡𝑦. 𝑙𝑜𝑣ed 𝑏𝑦 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑎. ( 𝑠ℎ𝑒/ℎ𝑒𝑟, 24 )

𝐴 𝑆𝑇𝑈𝐷𝑌 𝐼𝑁. 𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑠𝑡 | 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑓 | 𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 | 𝑠𝑖𝑐 𝑠𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑦𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑠 | 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑢𝑚𝑎 | 𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑙𝑜𝑦𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑦 | 𝑟𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑦 | 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑜𝑔𝑠 | ℎ𝑎𝑢𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 | 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑡 | 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑤 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢’𝑣𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝑓 | ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟𝑠 𝑏𝑜𝑡ℎ 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑒ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 | 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑔ℎ𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑠 | 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑎𝑙 | 𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒚 | 𝑎𝑏𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑟𝑜𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑒 | 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑜𝑟 | 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑢𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑑, 𝑦𝑒𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑑𝑖𝑒 | 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 | 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛, 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑖𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑣𝑒.

· · ─── ᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛꜱ ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ · ❋ · ᴍᴇᴍᴇꜱ ᴏᴏᴄ ᴀʀᴛ ─── · ·

𓍊𓋼 BLOGROLL: @bluebiiiird

𓍊𓋼 TAG DUMP

all dividers are from @cursed-carmine @strangergraphics @uzmacchiato

[mossycabin]

castlevania starter for @drxmxtispersonxe 🐇 (thomas zane!)

Sypha was unused to the uneasy silence that came with solitude. While she could hold her own just fine, she always had a group around her to rely on. The Speakers, then the Belmont and the dhampir. She’d been passing through a dense part of the snowy woods alongside the former, when a hoard of night creatures caught them by surprise. The monsters were nothing new, but there was something different about the their tactics. Night creatures unaided by forgemasters or vampires harboured little tactics outside throwing themselves at anything within their line of sight.

These monsters however? They were smarter somehow — as if something, or someone was controlling them. They had strategy. They managed to drive Trevor, Alucard and herself apart, even going so far as to knock Sypha backwards from the fight after she’d propelled herself into the air.

It took her a few minutes to collect her consciousness when she finally hit the ground, her head pounding as she staggered back up to her feet. Despite the initial disorientation, she was back to making her way towards the fight. At least towards the direction she thought it was in.

The woods almost felt 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎, the lonesome trail twisting around her feet with each step she ventured forth. Dense mist crept across the treeline, trailing up the frostbitten pine trees adorned with icy moss and fauna.

Distant screeches caught her attention, a blur of motion through the branches. In an instant, she leapt into action. Summoning a handful of fire, she threw it at the nearest night creature she saw and sent it to the ground in a heap of explosive flesh. One after another went down until she was sure she'd gotten all of them.

[mossycabin]

@unbindingpages 🕮

Rhodes was somewhere Fox didn’t often find herself in. It was another one of those small, backwater towns people usually just passed through on their way to Saint Denis, not much in it outside the general store and the gunsmith. It was an uncommon place for clients to request meeting in, but she didn’t mind much so long as she was getting paid.

The Grays and the Braithwaites kept to themselves for the most part despite their lovers’ quarrel — although rumour has it that Madame Braithwaite hasn’t been seen in a while. The Lemoyne Raiders weren’t bold enough to strike at them, so more than likely there was a third party involved. Probably the same ones that supposedly cleared out the manor around Shady Belle. Couldn’t be a coincidence.

Her shire was hitched nearby as she leaned against the building nearby the post office, waiting in the shade for her contact to arrive. Fox didn’t have much information to go off of in regard to their appearance, although the scruffy outlaw that wandered into town certainly stuck out in contrast to the locals.

She watched closely as the man approached, tilting her head up slightly hearing him call out.

“Wait— are you the person I’m supposed to meet?”

Fox pushed off the wall to greet him, though kept her distance. “Should be. John, was it? Lisa Rosewood.” Fox would reply with a politician’s smile with a small wave of the hand. “I believe there was something about a Cornwell? You'll have to forgive me, my memory seems to be a bit hazy..” She prompted him lowly.

Fox glanced him over to gauge his equipment, then subtly scanned past him for any friends he might have brought with him. Just out of curiosity, of course. Some folks are looking for more information than they’re willing to pay for, and she wasn’t looking for trouble. Then again, he didn’t seem like much of a stranger to trouble with the deep scars painted across his face. If he had a bounty on him, he wouldn’t be an easy mark.

[unbindingpages]

“what? No. no Cornwell, Jesus! Lower your tone, woman!” he looks around swiftly to check if anyone was listening in to their conversation, frowning at the new girl “hey, look. If you’re gonna make trouble, be warned, I won’t hesitate to leave behind and hit the breeze once things go down, you understand? So if you draw unnecessary attentions, you’ll give me no choice!” this Lizzy girl Arthur was so sure that will be helpful just feels..off. like she knows something or is about to make some chaos. Leave the sixth sensation stuff to Mary Beth and Abigail but something about her smells ‘danger’ and he likes it as much as he wants to avoid it!

“it’s about Braithwaite family. They got some horses, alright. And we want to steal those beasts. Simple like that. Take it as your first job, since Dutch put me in charge to see if you’re worthy enough to be a part of our gang” he holds his nose up, puffing out the chest. She’s a forest rebel from her looks and he is a wanted man. That thing alone puts him on the upper level, correct!

[mossycabin]

At first glance, ‘Lisa’ didn’t seem bothered by his exclamation, raising a brow as she followed his gaze. He seemed awfully flighty, that she could use. To elicit such a adverse reaction meant he either had history with the O’Driscoll’s, or had some friends of notoriety. She couldn’t help but wonder how interested the Irish bastards would pay for a lead on these strangers.

“Easy now, mister. The only trouble I see is the one standing in front of me. You look like a smart man— I can assure you I don’t intend on causing any ruckus.” She’d raise her hands in a placating gesture, seemingly stepping back in face of his warning.

Fox couldn’t help but raise a brow, almost taken aback for a moment by his words. “The Braithwaites?” The name rolled off her tongue, not bothering to hide her contempt. “Awfully ambitious of a mark for what..two, three people of your little gang?” The outlaw prodded for information quieter this time, holding a hint of a challenge in her tone. “Second— first job? You must be mistaken. I’m just a messenger, I ain’t some hired muscle that’d be of much use to you.” The outlaw would insist with a small chuckle. “So long as you have the money, we have business, but you’ll have to sweeten the pot if you want me riskin’ my neck getting into bed with horse thieves.”

The weight that Dutch’s name carried wasn’t lost on her, intentionally or unintentionally. Van Der Linde had carved out quite a name for himself up in Blackwater, leaving plenty of bodies in his wake. Plenty of posters with his face plastered all over bounty boards around the county. Always the cunning type, he seemed to make friends wherever he went. Not too dissimilar from herself. Wonder what business he had with Johnny here, more so how he was paying not to rat him out. God knows how many of his boys there were out there, Fox wasn’t keen on making their acquaintance.

[mossycabin]

/alan wake starter for @remedialmuses 𖦹 (lyla marigold!)

𝙾-𝙳𝙴𝙴𝚁 𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙴𝚁.

𝚂𝙲𝙴𝙽𝙴: 𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙼𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙴𝚁..

Whether it was a late night investigation, or an early morning coffee break, Caruso found herself in front of the O-Deer Diner one way or the other. A staple of the community — something about the warm ambience and the locale always made her feel at ease amidst the hushed whispers of cultists and madmen roaming the woods at night. Numerous bodies of missing people turning up on the shores of Calderon Lake..it just didn't add up.

The journalist had caught a scent from one of her sources who'd supposedly seen something out in the woods. Their own shadow seemingly came to life while they were out in the woods, and sent them scrambling back into town in terror. It seemed more like a modern day ghost story, but she couldn't dismiss the case on skepticism alone.

Wisps of fog gently curled around her ankles while she made her way towards the doors of the diner, though she caught a glimpse of a women waiting outside.

Caruso didn't recognize her, oddly enough. She was familiar with almost all the locals in town, save for the few that mainly kept to themselves. Maybe she was from the city? She could have swore she'd seen her somewhere, though the more she tried to think about it, the more her memories b̶l̶u̶r̶r̶e̶d̶.̶

Attempting to hold onto the the fragmenting thought, Caruso walked into the diner, though returned shortly with two cups of coffee in hand.

"You waiting on someone?" She'd ask, striking up some conversation out of curiosity. She offered the stranger one of the coffee cups in a friendly gesture.

[mossycabin]

@desiderixm ⚔︎ (Cowboy Au Tarhos)

Elizabeth had been passing through a stretch of land along the plains on borrowed time and borrowed luck.

Some business down in Saint Denis had gone awry per say. A couple of bruisers had beaten her to her contact, loitering at the dropoff spot when she'd arrived in town. Lemoyne Raiders by the looks of them, though it was very unusual for them to have ventured so far east. Either her contact had managed to pissed off the wrong crowd, or if they were after the information she had on hand about some valuable cargo shipments and merchant routes. Who’d ratted her out was a question for later.

The two of them had tried their hand at intimidation, though Fox had managed to weasel her way out of a confrontation with some bullshit story posing as a traveller looking for directions. While she was convincing enough to let her walk away, it wasn't without skepticism. She doubted they'd be trailing her, but it wasn't a risk she could afford to take.

Cutting through the surrounding woods, the outlaw kept moving until she eventually reached a clearing. She slowed upon catching glimpse of a man sitting under an oak tree nearby, his hat tipped low, rifle close at hand. One of the last things she'd expected to see out in the middle of nowhere.

There was a tiredness that only came from years on the run that permeated the outlaws every breath. Resting under a tree, Tarhos idly wrote in his journal to pass the time, only for his moment of peace to be interrupted and all he could do was look up with the most pathetic gaze he could muster. "You're blocking the sun."

Fox raised a slight brow in response while she looked down at him from her shire. "Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your tan." She'd remark back wryly, though she'd nudge her draft horse to the side to step out of his sun. "You alone out here, stranger? Mighty dangerous out in these woods.." She questioned casually, shifting her gaze around for a moment.

[mossycabin]

@snipeheart 𖦏 “Do I want to know what just happened?”

Rebecca froze in place, slowly turning to face the silhouette in the doorway. Her words caught in her throat as she just stared over at him for a few moments, masquerading a deer in the headlights. Her face was shrouded by shadow within the dimly lit space of the laboratory he had invited himself into, illuminated faintly by the red glow of a beacon behind her. Blood trickled down the side of her temple. The place was a wreck, with chairs and broken glass strewn about, as though a tornado had blown through the place.

"Piers— thank god you're here. It’s bad. But it’s not what you think." She found her voice again, straightening up slightly with a strained effort. Beneath her was another scientist, a syringe laying nearby his body. Dark veins faintly crawled up the skin of her neck, accompanied by beads of sweat running down her brow

"He's not with the BSAA. I don't know who he is, but he somehow got access to the labs and got the jump on me." She steadied herself with a soft huff, gesturing to the body hazily. "I managed to sedate him but I need your help to restrain him, please."

[forgotten-retrouvaille]

@mossycabin ( sypha ) liked for a starter.

a light scattering of mist rolled over the dreary hills, clouds coming down to taste the ground that they were cursed to only gaze at for eternity. wisps and tendrils reached out, following their own curious paths through the quickly cooling undergrowth and disappearing into the soil beneath.

the crackling of the fire was the only thing that could be heard in the midst of their campground, especially when all else was as quiet as the grave. whether it was the fault of the vampire across the site, her own self, or any manner of night creatures was yet to be entirely determined. there's only two she can logically rule out — that being the vampire hunter, belmont, and sypha, the speaker.

for all the noise that the former made stomping around wallachia, she could accept his skill, even if begrudgingly. there was no love lost between the pair — suspicion was thrown around like leaves in a crosswind, and neither was quite ready to relinquish it. no amount of sypha's attempts at mediation would quell it anytime soon, but jill would at least tolerate him for the time being.

speaking of the mage, keen senses were quick to pick up on the sound of footsteps making their way towards her. too light to be trevor ( helped by the fact she could see him sprawled out sleeping by the fire ) and too noticeable to be the vampire. she shifted over slightly after a long moment, making enough room underneath the tree.

“ can't sleep? ”

[mossycabin]

The mage's footfalls came to a slow halt. She'd attempted to soften her steps as not to startle the other, though it seemed her sharpened senses never faltered. Sypha should have known better, though she'd lean towards any small effort to ease the gnawing tensions between Jill and the rest of the group.

Trevor was naturally abrasive at the best of times, and Alucard was well...Alucard. Neither were quite as inclined to be sociable, more or less amiable with the recent addition to their party. And while Sypha wasn't normally one to play peacekeeper in the group, it was in her nature to connect people - to bridge gaps that most turn away from.

Admittedly, she had a quiet admiration for the Jill beyond the curiosity of her heritage. Lycanthropes were scarce amidst the plague night creatures, more or less individuals that weren't bound by some vampire's reign. Not much was known about them, even through the stories woven through Speakers and Belmonts. Some were born, some turned or cursed.

"No. My thoughts have been somewhat restless as of late." Her expressions turns pensive for a brief moment. She took a place to her by the tree, curling up next to her without much concern for space. Her cloak held warmth from the waning fire, gently leaning against Jill's shoulder to share it, though gave her room to move away if she so chose "You've been awake for while, even before your watch began."

[mossycabin]

continued from 𐚁 / @the-last-command 𓆗

Fox leaned forward against the counter, nursing a glass of whiskey between her hands. She wasn’t usually one to strike up conversation, but something about the mountain sitting across the bar stirred her curiosity. She tilted her head up slightly to meet his eyes past the brim of her worn brown hat, returning his heavy gaze with her own.

“I suppose so. You look like you know your way around a gun.” She affirmed, a slight chuckle leaving her lips. “Doubt too many folks give you trouble.”

His weathered, wary demeanour gave way to a sense of warmth beneath the surface. Scarred, but unwavering. He was someone’s solider once, she was certain of that much. NCR were spread too thin to be travelling alone— and as far as she knew, Legionnaire dogs didn’t dress in ranger armour. He held himself with too much dignity to be branded a raider or one of the families under House.

“Diane.” Fox answered, glancing him over. “Can’t say I’ve seen you around Freeside before, mister.” She waved the bartender over to buy him another drink.

[barbed-cudgel]

@mossycabin (Jack Kelso)

The rain came down steadily, blurring the glow of the streetlamps outside Doreen’s Diner. The glass rattled faintly when a gust of wind swept past, but inside, the hum of conversation and the smell of strong coffee held the night at bay. A few regulars lingered in their booths, nursing plates of pie or held onto cups that had gone cold. These late night customers were the kind of company that didn’t mind silence.

By the register, Tippy-Toe kept her strong stance right beside the tip jar, small paws folded neat, tail flicking lazily every so often. She watched the room with big bright eyes, as if she was on watch duty. As if she was a watch dog. Doreen moved through the diner with her usual rhythm, tray balanced against her hip, her steps steady despite feeling the fatigue creeping within her. Her curves were wrapped in a coffee-stained apron, that was also dusted heavily with flour from the evening’s baking.

Her hair was pinned back in a way that framed her kind, round open face - although a few strands fell down from their pinned place but she couldn’t be bothered to fix it. She refilled couple of coffee cups and sat down a stack of pancakes one of her customers. “Careful. They are a bit warm alright?” She speaks out, offering a warm smile before heading to the register to place the tray down. She’ll put it in the right place later.

With a soft sigh and a hand wipe to her forehand, she rests a moment before she walks to her jukebox to play another, different record. Sweet, soft jazz fills the homely diner with its pleasant tune just as soon as the diner’s door chime rings. She looks over, green eyes scanning the man. His trench coat was all drenched, giving him a slight soggy appearance. She smiles warmly at him as she wipes both hands on the “cleanest” part of her apron.

“Welcome on in! What can I do for ya Mister? Want a coffee? Surely somethin’ to warm those cold bones up! Hmm?”

[mossycabin]

case file: @barbed-cudgel 𐂂

“𝙰𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚜' 𝙷𝚎𝚎𝚕”

10:32PM

Bright neon lights of passing signs reflected against the windows of Jack Kelso’s car, keeping him company while he drove through the streets of Los Angeles. Shrouded beneath pale grey clouds, rain tapped against his windshield with a soft, steady patter, providing some noise to contrast his thoughts. 

The people he’d spoken with about this case didn’t give him many leads to pursue, just a few names of potential suspects. He’d worked with less, but it wouldn’t hurt to run some of these names by an expert. Which is what brought him to Doreen’s Diner. Rumoured to have eyes and ears everywhere, many detectives would stop by her diner for leads on cases.  Jack stepped out into the parking lot, though a soft groan escaped his lips upon realizing that he’d forgotten his umbrella back at his apartment. He assumed it was in his car when he left, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case. He was quick to run inside with the rain nipping at his heels, pushing open the door to the diner with a welcoming chime. He carefully wiped his shoes on the welcome mat inside, and tried to dry himself off as best he could as not to track water on the floor.

His soft gaze thoroughly swept across the various booths occupied by patrons, all enjoying their meals. He inhaled, the aroma of pancakes, eggs and coffee filling his nostrils. He perked up hearing Doreen call over to him, regarding Doreen with a warm expression. “A black coffee would be nice for these cold bones. Thank you, Miss Greene.” Jack nodded politely, trailing over to one of the empty seats near the coffee bar.  The detective gingerly set his hat down on the counter, resting an elbow down while he quietly waited for the waitress to return. “Seems like you have your hands full running this place.” He commented.  He couldn’t help but notice the squirrel that was perched beside the tip jar, his brows raising in slight surprise as he straightened up. Doreen was clearly aware of it being there, considering she hadn’t shooed it out with a broom. Was it her pet? Some sort of guard…squirrel?  Come to think of it, the detective had seen an odd amount of squirrels outside the diner before he’d initially walked through the door. Perhaps she was feeding them like some do with crows? He couldn’t quite say. It seemed well trained enough, though he got the feeling it was watching him just as closely.  His train of thought was interrupted as he glanced over to Doreen again, fishing out a damp notebook from his coat to review his case notes.

[barbed-cudgel]

“Gotcha! A black coffee is comin’ right up! I’ll give ya some sugar and creamers just in cause ya change yer mind.”

Walking over to the coffee machine, she works it quickly and efficiently. It was mostly muscle memory at this point as she adds in the coffee beans and pressed START. She smiles as he comments on how busy the place is, he wasn’t wrong but it wasn’t nothing she couldn’t handle!

“Oh yeah! My hands are always busy at work! Heck, during the holidays it gets busier than a centipede at a toe counting contest! But I enjoy the work, keeps me busy and nimble.”

The coffee finally pours out and she grabs the whole pot, along with two cups, some creamers and a few sugar packets. Sitting the cups down she fills them both up full with just a lotto gap to prevent spilling. The creamers and sugars go the middle of the cups for easy grabbing. Sitting down across from him, she uses one had to push back a lock of her hair that keeps falling out of place.

“So Mr. Kelso how can I help ya? Since yer pullin’ that book of yours; I’m guessin’ you need some leads? Case help? I’m sure I could lean a hand with it! Fortunately, I like to listen to the gab here and there..!”

She laughs softly as she holds her own cup of coffee warming her hands with it. How could she be of assistance today?

[mossycabin]

“Thank you kindly." Kelso smiled back warmly, his shoulders slumping as he settled into his seat. "I can imagine. I can't say I've ever seen the diner empty."

He scanned around once more for anyone that seemed out of place — an old habit, but one that's kept him alive so far. Fortunately people had enough sense not to start trouble in the diner, both out of respect for Doreen and for the fact she had no issues tossing out the riffraff. He found it admirable that she didn't mind getting her hands dirty, even with the danger that came with her side business as an police informant. It was a rare quality in most civilians he'd encountered.

He hummed softly as he patiently waited, taking in the cozy ambience around him - the clinks of cups against the table, friendly conversation among the other patrons, passing cars and the echo of the jukebox in the background. Kelso had a difficult time relaxing after he'd returned from his deployment, though time spent here restored a small sense of normalcy.

He'd perk up when Doreen sat down across from him, pulling him from his quiet contemplation. "Sharp as ever, Miss Greene, but please — call me Jack." He'd chuckle back, finding her bubbly demeanour infectious. "I just wanted to pick your brain about a few things, if you wouldn't mind." He answered. "Thomas Avery was found dead in his mansion this morning, he was a decorated war hero turned city councilmen."

"What do you know about Avery?" Kelso would ask casually, leaving the question open ended. He was curious if she'd heard anything about the upper echelon pulling the strings of the corrupt city.

[mossycabin]

@bells-of-black-sunday ⚔︎ (mother gooseberry)

It wasn’t the first time Russo had woken up in a room without any of her gear, although the night vision goggles drilled into her skull and the chest rig were admittedly new. The mutilated corpses and nun mannequins littering the halls were another unwelcome addition to her dilemma.

Rorschach symbols flashed within the recesses of her fractured psyche each time she blinked, as if her mind had been pried open and tampered with. The sensation was maddening. As much as she wanted to chase the memories just out of reach, it was damn near impossible to focus with the distant shriek of a power drill, each metallic whine splintering her thoughts like glass.

"Do we have a new friend?" "Could you wattle any slower? Jesus Christ." "There's no rush Dr. Futterman." "Well you're not getting any younger, that's a fact."

A voice rang out, maybe two, pressing Russo to keep moving. She crept forward cautiously until a faint glow beneath one of the doors caught her eye. She pushed the door open, though her investigations were cut short when a small object shot out from the door and completely knocked her off her feet.

Shit. An audible yelp escaped her as she hit the ground, her fingers blindly grasping the wooden device lodged into her chest rig in an attempt to pry it out. A string of curses, followed by the soft hissing of gas being released from the device filled her lungs with fire, rendering her a sputtering, gasping mess.

[mossycabin]

reworked tag dump ♡

[mossycabin]

@forgotten-retrouvaille ♬.ᐟㅤ "We all have our secrets. Sometimes we have to keep them to protect the people we care about."

Caruso shifted in place, frowning back at Detective Valentine from across the table as she raised her wrists. The cuffs clinked with the movement, the angry red rings on her skin evident of her previous struggles. As much as she wanted to slip out of them, the door to the interrogation room was still locked.

“I told you already. I’m not protecting anyone, you’re fishing for information that isn’t there.” She insist earnestly. It’d only been a few hours since she’d been tossed into in the interrogation room inside the R.P.D, though it felt more like days without much to occupy herself in the tiny room.

The seat creaked slightly as she leaned back, raising her head up a bit with a hint of wryness in her tone. “You have nothing to hold me on. If you did, we wouldn’t be talking.” There was almost a challenge laced within her words, as if the journalist found some source of petty entertainment pushing Jill’s buttons. They'd have to let her go eventually.

[mossycabin]

(continued from ঌ / @belmonts-finest )

Sypha tensed immediately upon hearing an unfamiliar voice answer back, her hands deftly summoning a small fire at her fingertips. Her eyes scanned over the man, examining him closely. He didn’t look like one of the townsfolk, nor a creature of the night. What could he possibly be doing here?

There was something distinctly familiar about him — a connection she couldn’t place. For some reason, he reminded her strongly of Trevor. He had an air of confidence about him, perhaps another monster hunter?

“What? Who are YOU?” She’d exclaim back, completely taken aback by his presence. She eyed the whip in his hand with a raised brow, noting the weapon reeked of the holy arcane. Confusion flickered across her face as she examined the weapon further. "Where did you get that whip?”

The old temple she’d been navigating through was rumoured to harbour arcane trickery. Labyrinthine hallways shifting and changing in layout the moment you turn the corner. The people in the town nearby claimed that there were something that would emerge from the castle at nightfall to terrorize them. Which begs the question — was there someone, or something within summoning these monsters? Or was the temple just crawling with night creatures taking refuge within? Sypha supposed she’d find out once she’d dealt with the stranger.

[mossycabin]

starter for @unbindingpages 🕮 (john marston)

Rhodes was somewhere Fox didn’t often find herself in. It was another one of those small, backwater towns people usually just passed through on their way to Saint Denis, not much in it outside the general store and the gunsmith. It was an uncommon place for clients to request meeting in, but she didn’t mind so long as she was getting paid.

The Grays and the Braithwaites kept to themselves for the most part despite their lovers’ quarrel — but rumour has it that Madame Braithwaite hasn’t been seen in a while. The Lemoyne Raiders weren’t bold enough to strike at them, so more than likely there was a third party involved. Probably the same ones that supposedly cleared out the manor around Shady Belle. Couldn’t be a coincidence.

Her shire was hitched nearby as she leaned against the building nearby the post office, waiting in the shade for her contact to arrive. Fox didn’t have much information to go off of in regard to their appearance, although the scruffy outlaw that wandered into town certainly stuck out in contrast to the locals.

She watched closely as the man approached, tilting her head up slightly hearing him call out.

“Wait— are you the person I’m supposed to meet?”

Fox pushed off the wall to greet him, though kept her distance. “Should be. John, was it? Lisa Rosewood.” Fox would reply with a politician’s smile and a small wave of the hand. “I believe there was something about a Cornwell? You'll have to forgive me, my memory seems to be a bit hazy..” She prompted him lowly.

Fox glanced him over to gauge his equipment, then subtly scanned past him for any friends he might have brought with him. Just out of curiosity — some folks are looking for more information than they’re willing to pay for. While she wasn’t looking for trouble, the man didn’t seem like much of a stranger to it with the deep scars painted across his face. If he had a bounty on him, he wouldn’t be an easy mark.

[mossycabin]

"You can't keep hiding from your problems darling—" Eddie lifted a table to look under it before setting it back down with a huff as he waved his knife with his words, "I know it's easier to run and hide, but we can get through them together. I can be your shoulder to cry on." — Eddie @ Russo

Caruso kept her head down from the desk she’d taken cover behind, watching his silhouette stalk across the room through the cracked lens of the camcorder she’d found. Damn thing was functional at least, if barely. The view would occasionally flicker at random times, rendering her almost completely blind in the darker spaces. Without the night vision, she’d be at the mercy of whatever inmate she bumped into while fumbling around in the dark.

One of which she was unfortunate enough to have caught the attention of.

The journalist had hoped he would have lost interest within few minutes of searching around for her, but he was dangerously persistent for some reason. He was bound to grow bored and leave eventually, but she figured she’d give him some gentle encouragement in the form of a puncture wound.

Her fingers unconsciously tightened around a shard of glass left on the ground, the sharpened edges digging into her gloved palms. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she exhaled quietly, waiting for Eddie to turn his back before she cautiously crept closer towards the door. Gingerly, she set down her camera for a moment to retrieve a piece of debris from the ground. She threw the rubble off to the side to create a distraction, listening to it bounced off a nearby wall with a small thunk.

Russo prayed he would go over to investigate the source of the sound, though she wasn’t quite sure how alert he was in contrast to the other patients she’s encountered, and briefly realized she may have revealed her hand.

[mossycabin]

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚡 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜, 𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚔𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚘𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚌𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚢.

[mossycabin]

(continued from 𐚁 / @barbed-cudgel)

Seeing Arthur’s horse singlehandedly take care of their problem for them left Fox absolutely dumbfounded. She was lost for words, just peeking over the rock for a few moments before her shoulders slumped in relief.

“Shit..well ain’t that somethin’." She couldn’t help but chuckle from the absurdity of it all. She certainly wasn’t complaining about saving some ammo. What a good horse.

Fox watched Arthur leave to rummage through the man’s pockets, her eyes darting to the path and the dense treeline surrounding them. She heaved herself up to her feet, wincing as her ribs protested the effort, and surveyed the treeline like a guard dog.

She inhaled to whistle for her horse, though her breath was cut short from the sharp pain. Leaning heavily against the rock, she’d cough a bit from the effort, blood lining the corner of her lip. She tried once more to whistle, though couldn’t muster the strength. “Damn horse.” She grumbled under her breath, although she supposed she couldn’t entirely blame him when she’d shooed the damn horse off in the first place.

Finally relenting, Fox huffed softly in resignation.

“Uhuh. Were you now? You seemed awfully comfortable staring down the barrel of my gun earlier.” She replied in jest, tilting her head slightly. “You’re just fortunate a tall, handsome stranger such as myself was around to protect you. You really oughta’… be more careful, mister.” Her paling complexion undermined her bold assertions as she slowly made her way towards Arthur. She wiped some blood from her shaky hands onto the side of her pants, then fished out a carrot from one of her pouches to offer it to Lily.

“Looks like I’ll be taking you up on that.” She sighed, preferring to keep whatever blood she had left inside her body. “Don’t suppose you’d mind giving me a ride..?” Fox almost sounded sheepish at the request, reluctantly glancing up to meet his eyes.