#gunm0ll

[mediumhonors]

continued , @gunm0ll 

       THE ROMANTIC IN JAVIER CAN’T DIVORCE HIMSELF FROM THE IMAGE OF THE REVOLUTIONARY.  in all fairness,  that’s been his life,  with little choice in the matter;  as a son of dutch,  though,  javier feels like he has a semblance of a choice even if it’s a mirage.  the choice is not to run and hide,  but to fight,  for a dream that’s palpable,  so close he can see it but not feel it.  it slips through his fingers like sand.  but it’s real.  karen is real,  too.  she earns a huff and a smile,  her own dreams of simplicity.

‘   i’ve seen you with a gun,  ’   javier argues,  ‘  i’d think that’s a real skill, isn’t it ?  ’    they both know what grimshaw means.  ‘  i think you’d be bored.  i know that i’d be bored.  ’ 

lips pursed in thought,  he plucks a few notes absently on his guitar strings with coarse fingers.  ‘  still,  though,  i don’t know what i wouldn’t give to see my sister and my nieces.  i’d be bored forever if it means i could go back to nuevo paraíso.  ’  he holds out the guitar too her,  a prized possession.  he trusts karen,  though.  ‘  i can show you.  ’  

[0ldwest]

❛  i’ve finally found my people.  ❜

        soft  grazes  of  dancing  flames  lull  the  camp  to  sleep,        save  its  most  restless  souls  lingering  in  comfortable  darkness.        THE  GANG’S  GROWING  BIGGER  WITH  EACH  PASSING  SEASON  but  it’ll  never  be  akin  to  colm  o’driscoll’s  band  of  strangers,        of  that  dutch  will  always  make  certain.        it’s  not  every  stray  they  welcome  into  their  fold,        possible  additions  instead  submitted  to  strict  scrutiny  from  the  gang’s  original  founders. . .        &  so  far  they  can  pride  themselves  on  their  keen  sight,        the  both  of  them.        a  hand  runs  through  thick  hair  as  he  exchanges  a  glance  with  karen.

        A  HARDENED,        FIERY  WOMAN,        NOT  UNLIKE  SUSAN  though  he  knows  not  to  comment  on  the  resemblance.        she  wouldn’t  understand,        not  with  the  many  years  separating  the  two,        but  he  knows.        he  knows.

        &  karen’s  words  bring  with  them  a  warmth  that’ll  inspire  a  lazy  smile  on  his  lips,        features  lit  by  the  match  he  strikes  to  light  his  cigarette,        offers  her  one.        ❝    and  your  people  are  proud  to  call  you  theirs.    ❞        he’d  found  her  in  the  rain  &  mud,        shine  of  his  shoes  crusted  with  western  dust,        &  HE’D  KNOWN  RIGHT  THEN  &  THERE  THAT  SHE’D  FIT  RIGHT  IN.        thumb  scratches  skillfully  against  a  second  match  brought  to  her  lips  to  ignite  her  tobacco,        dark  eyes  set  intently  into  hers.        ❝    you’re  home,        now,        karen.        you’re  finally  home.    ❞        the  soft  sound  of gentle  snoring  disturbs  the  moment,        dutch  identifying  its  source  &  tilting  his  head  in  its  direction,        camp  chef  stretched  in  his  chair :        ❝    and  in  time,        you’ll  even  learn  to  get  used  to  pearson’s  cooking,        i  promise.    ❞

[katzengesicht]

drive .  drive fast .

   OCELOT LIKES TO THINK he's fairly knowledgeable in most aspects of life. spending your time as both a mostly inconspicuous citizen working as a bounty hunter, as well as an outlaw who works at big boss’ side, he’s got a wide spread of expertise. of course, that doesn’t make him infallible or all-knowing, which he’s generally aware of, but hits him especially hard as karen points him to the ... engine room? driving room? there’s an oven in here, next to the steering wheel, and ocelot spends a moment too long simply staring. 

   he’s not sure if he signed up for this, specifically. a train robbery, sure. the red mask covering most of his face feels warm with the heat in this section of the train, coal-powered as it is. he blinks through it, hands hovering in front of him, as if that’ll somehow grant him wisdom on what he’s supposed to be doing. 

   there’s so many fucking gears. 

   ‘ uhm, ‘ he shouts over the rushing noise of air from the sheer velocity of this train, experimentally turning one of the gears and pulling his hand back when something makes a hissing noise. yeah, okay, they’re being hunted by law enforcement, but what if he blows something up? what then?

   ‘ this a bad time to say i don’t know how? ‘

@gunm0ll | dusty toybox prompts

[h34dnull-moved]

“  it  gets  dark  so  early  nowadays.  wanna  go  for  a  walk  ?  ”    @gunm0ll suggested.

kieran would look at karen with soft eyes,  hands shook when not bonded together,  so his fingers held onto each other for support.  not sure what to make of her or her offer.  it had been weeks since he had joined the gang after being hogtied by their muscle.  and kieran was uncertain if they were going to leave him behind or kill him.  every day he woke up with that thought in his head and it would not leave until his dreams took him.  even though karen was so sweet    (  in her own way  ),  different from the rest,  he knew better than to let looks deceive him.

“  wh-  what for?  not plannin’  o- on shootin’ me in the head or somethin’?  haha.  ”

[0ldwest]

CONTINUED FROM      ☞       @gunm0ll​

      it’s the two men’s pointed interest in her that first caught his attention, the perverse hunger of empty pockets expressed in their sneer & ushered exchanges   …   it’s enough a motivation to him to intervene & extend a helping hand.   ❝  diamonds, a good time   ...   they’d have taken anything you could offer.  ❞   HE DOESN’T BURDEN HIMSELF WITH MANNERS when he replies, doubts she’d be easily offended, & he accompanies her to the safety of an alley she dutifully leads him to.

      ❝  ah-ha, a thespian !  ❞   the tickets are gratefully received, smile lifting the edge of his mustache when he reads the name of the play.   ❝  oh, i do love a good play, miss. my best friend used to be quite the actor himself. still has a knack for it, actually. between you an’ me, i think he misses it !  ❞   THE FRIENDLY SMILE GROWS FONDER as some memory resurfaces.   ❝  hamlet. a fantastic pick. offers wonderful insight on the topic of self-doubt. ‘we know what we are but know not what we may be.’  ❞   he recites with ease as he observes the young girl before him,   ...   full of life under her layers of silk & trinkets.   ❝  undoubtedly something for the lowlives of this wretched town to consider. when will you be performing next ?  ❞

[h34dnull-moved]

“  don’t worry about it.  i was already awake.  ”    @gunm0ll said,    “  would it help if i stayed?  ”

“  w-would  -  would ya?  ”   he spoke softly,  eyes glued to the floor and fingers fidgeted against each other.  uncertain of what to say as he was worried he would make her leave or grow bored.    “  it’s ok if you don’t w-want to.  i just,  it’s scary,  at night.  ” 

[h34dnull-moved]

hi, baby-face <3

O-OH... me? i don't h-have a baby f-f-face. ):T

[w0lfbite]

@gunm0ll​    :      WE    GOTTA    FIND    A    PLACE    TO    HOLE   UP .        &.    TOMBSTONE .

the   wind   was   whistling   in   the   cracks   of   ancient   pines ,   towering   over   them   and   swaying    dangerously    to   the   mysterious   rhythm    of    the    upcoming    storm .      fleeing   beaver   hollow ,    countless   days   on   the   road   with   nothing   but  whiskey   on   their   breath   shared   from   morning   till   night ,   the   cycle   sometimes   broken   whenever   john   managed    to   hunt   something   down .   he   barely   remembered   the   last   time   he   was   sober ,   their    breaths   coated   with   liquor   and   bitterness ,    anguish   left   unsaid ,    a   silent   promise .      nothing   but   a   tarnished ,   dying   gleam   shining   only   when   their   gaze   met .

❝     c’mon ,    take   this .     last   thing   we   need   is   ya   catchin’   a   cold   or   freezin’   ta   death .    ❞        he   offered   his   ox   leather   jacket ,    lined   with   coyote   fur   but   worn   and   grazed   countless   times   by   bullets   and   knives ,    his   voice   harsher   than   intended .  

    he   promised   hosea   he’d   never   leave ,     never  run   from   responsibility   and   the   family   that   saved   him   from   the   rope ,   taught   him   to   shoot ,   to   read ,   taught   him   how   to   live   and   to   be   free .     but   the   ‘ family ’    crumbled   into   a   pile   of   ash ,    the   accusations   thrown   his   way   biting   harder   than   the   wolf   fangs   gnawing   at   his   skin   amidst   virgin   white   snow .    dutch’s   love   turned   to   disdain ,   and   john   never   once   thought   he’d   lose   a   father    for   a   third   time .      promised   not   to   run   again ,      the   thought   echoed   again ,    but   the   man   who   he   made   the   promise   to   was   now   six   feet   under   and   so   was   john’s   honour .      

lightning   was   rumbling   behind   thick   curtains   of   grey   clouds ,   rifle   swung   behind   his   shoulder   as   brown   eyes   turned   to   meet   her .     ❝   there   should   be   an   abandoned   cabin   round   these   parts   up   ‘em   hills ,   nothin’   fancy   but   sturdy   enough  to   keep   us   dry   ‘n   warm .       but   we   gotta   move   quick .  you   up   for   a   little   hike ,   miss   jones ?    ❞