𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓?

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓?

[rubyrazors]

𝙷𝙴𝚈 𝙳𝙰𝚂𝙷 !  just  me  asking  for  threads  for  the  silent  but  deadly  compton  brother,  james.  send  me  an  im  if  you’d  like  to  plot.

[rubyrazors]

psst.  my  two  underappreciated  boys  have  been  revived  over  on  @callanders  ;))

[rubyrazors]

westpromised‌  /  jacob  &  charlotte.

“–oh?” It takes a moment for the realization to settle in but once it does, it illuminates her entire face in a wide display of relief and unbridled joy. Charlotte Balfour –– the Widow of Willard’s Rest, as the good folk of Annesburg haven taken to calling her –– reaches for the photograph with both hands as some might for a newborn babe, and cradles it in them as one would a likewise treasure. “You found it – you found it, oh, bless you, Mister! I thought I’d seen the last of it for sure, and it bein’ my wedding picture and all– what a fool I’d been to take it, I oughta keep it framed and on the mantelpiece, but no, silly old me had to know better than that. Well, I reckon you gave me an opportunity to set that right, haven’t you?” 

She stops herself short there, chuckles a bit as though about a private joke, and waves the bartender over again. He has witnessed the scene of reunion between widow and wedding picture and thus, with no small show of relief, is for once content to come over. God knows she has been chewing his ear off all day about that goddamn picture and money she had been deprived of at this very bar yesterday evening. “Get this man a drink of his choice, please. I can’t thank you enough for finding and returning this, Mister–?” 

𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  to  the  returned  photograph  is  reward  enough.  while  most  are  motivated  by  fortune  and  fame,  the  youngest  compton  is  instilled  with  the  need  to  make  others  happy.  his  gang  call  it  a  curse  to  have  such  care  in  a  lawless  land  but  jacob  believes  it  a  blessing.  yes,  it  might  get  him  shot  one  day  but  it  may  also  lead  him  to  a  different  way  of  life  (  not  a  better  way,  just  a  different  way,  he  mentally  reiterates  ).

“ johnson, ”  the  male  coolly  replies.  he’s  not  known  for  his  smarts  but  even  he’s  not  dumb  enough  to  give  his  real  name  in  a  state  they’re  most  definitely  𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃  in.  with  a  tipping  of  wide  brimmed  hat  towards  the  lady,  smile  is  beamed  her  way,  “ pleasure  to  meet  you,  ma’am.  but  before  i  let  you  buy  me  a  whiskey,  do  i  get  a  name  to  put  to  the  face  of  the  bride  i  been  lookin’  at  all  night? ”

[userlando]

Tom Hardy as Forrest Bondurant in Lawless.

[rubyrazors]

“ &. WHEN I GET MY OWN THE WHOLE WORLD GONNA SEE. ”  //  indie  rp  for  an  old  west  outlaw  family.  written  by  lucy.  established  november  2019.  multiship  &  multiverse.  oc  &  canon  friendly.

[rubyrazors]

𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙻𝙳𝙽'𝚃 𝙱𝙴 𝙳𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂.  if  jacob’s  brothers  taught  him  anything  it  was  never  to  return  to  the  scene  of  a  crime.  but  between  thumb  and  finger  was  a  photograph  of  someone  he  didn’t  know  belonging  to  someone  he  never  thought  twice  about  stealing  from  until  he  got  back  to  camp  the  night  before  and  found  the  old  thing  buried  between  the  money  he’d  swiped.  guilt  led  him  back  to  the  victim  despite  better  judgement.  all  he  really  had  left  of  john  besides  the  memories  was  a  photograph  and  it  would’ve  broken  his  damned  heart  if  someone  took  that  from  him.  and  while  living  brothers  would  have  his  head  for  risking  danger  by  approaching  the  person  he  pickpocketed,  his  dead  brother  would  be  looking  down  on  him  and  knowing  he  raised  him  right.  “ mornin’, ”  jake  greeted,  large  stature  slowing  to  a  halt  upon  sight  of  them.  hands  rose  up  to  calm  any  hostile  ideas  they  might  have  in  mind,  photograph  held  in  clear  view  for  them,  “ i  jus’  wanted  to  bring  this  back,  is  all. ”

[rubyrazors]

westpromised.

There is a stranger in front of him with a stranger’s name and a stranger’s voice, and yet he thinks he recognizes in that voice something intimate and familiar; something weary that sings of hardships past and maybe present, too. Something that scratched the dust of the prairie and never quite got it out of the the lungs again. Shifting his weight backwards, Arthur tugged on the reins and murmurs a soft Whoa to his steed, a beautiful grullo dun mustang emerging in the lamplight like a ghost in gray. Arthur lifts his hands even as the horse comes to a slow and staggering halt, snorts, and shakes its head. Its rider scoffs, too.

“Relax,” he drawls, the grin a hint in the voice underneath, “your fire’s noticeable from miles and miles away. Don’t blame me for my curiosity, mister.” 

𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝚄𝙲𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙷𝙰𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝙾𝚄𝚃𝙻𝙰𝚆𝚂.  which  one  might  call  rich  considering  the  man  himself  has  been  rolling  from  state  to  state  for  the  best  part  of  two  decades  with  that  very  label  attached  to  his  name.  but  there  were  people  like  him  and  his  brothers,  who  went  about  their  business  and  left  others  to  theirs,  and  then  there  were  people  like  this  stranger  (  an  outlaw  if  ever  he’d  seen  one  )  riding  up  to  any  ol’  camp  thinking  a  fire  meant  an  invitation.

“don’t  tell  me  to  relax,”  joseph  doesn’t  flinch  as  gruff  words  are  directed  the  others  way,  “you  ain’t  ever  heard  it  ain’t  wise  to  ride  up  to  a  camp  you  didn’t  get  no  invite  to?”  shotgun  still  locked  in  tight  grip  motions  to  the  ground,  an  unspoken  command  to  get  down  off  that  horse  before  he’s  slain  upon  it.  he’s  only  lucky  james  sleeps  like  the  dead;  his  brother  wouldn’t  have  been  so  hesistant  about  shooting  down  a  rogue  rider  in  the  dark  of  night  who  dared  to  penetrate  the  safety  of  the  camp  they’d  set  up.  steely  blue  gaze  narrows  as  defensive  position  is  maintained,  "i  think  i’ll  be  takin’  a  name  and  a  reason  for  your  intrusion  now,  feller.”

[rubyrazors]

𝙷𝙾𝚆𝙳𝚈 !  not  sure  how  active  the  indie  western  rp  community  is  but  i  have  a  couple  of  broken  outlaw  brothers  good  honest  gentlemen  here  that  would  love  to  get  some  interaction  going  and  start  building  some  relationships.  so  please  like  this  post  or  jump  into  my  ims  if  you’re  interested  at  all.

[rubyrazors]

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙵 𝙷𝙾𝙾𝚅𝙴𝚂 𝙿𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝙸𝚁𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂 𝙷𝙸𝙼.  the  fire  still  crackles  enough  to  light  the  camp  in  an  orange  glow,  and  joseph’s  eyes  instinctively  slide  to  check  the  ground  for  his  other  two  brothers.  one  large  figure  still  rests,  but  one  is  missing.  jacob.  swiftly  getting  to  feet,  the  man  reaches  for  his  shotgun  and  has  it  aimed  at  the  direction  of  the  incoming  rider.  if  that’s  jacob  riding  into  camp  that  hard  and  fast,  the  boy  is  bringing  trouble  with  him.  but  as  figure  gets  closer,  he  can  tell  by  their  silhouette  and  riding  style,  that  it  certainly  isn’t  his  youngest  brother.  “don’t  come  any  closer,”  stern  voice  rings  out  as  a  warning,  gun  still  pointed  at  them  but  unable  to  make  out  features  of  their  face,  “not  ‘til  you  give  me  a  name  and  a  reason  for  trying  to  storm  into  my  camp  at  this  time’a  night.”

[rubyrazors]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐘𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐒.  joseph,  james,  jacob  &  john  compton.

[rubyrazors]

TAG DROP  #1