#troubledgunslinger

[marstonsxboy]

@troubledgunslinger started following you:

‘ h-hey, uncle arthur! can we go fishing again soon? the flowers i used for mama’s necklace went all brown and they don’t look pretty no more ... i wanna make her a new one. ’

[the-1890s-runaway]

🐎

Send me 🐎 to go out riding with my character / @troubledgunslinger

For once in the months Esther has been with the gang, everything felt relatively calm. Everything seemed to be at the calmest. They did have business to worry about, but it seemed like maybe it was going to the light at the end of the tunnel.

Esther and Arthur were sent out to scope out the new location that the gang would move to next. She didn’t really know why she was sent. Esther most participate in work of her own, as well as helping around the camp. She got money by robbing homesteads, stagecoaches, stealing horses and selling them at fences. She even got as far as to selling cattle that wasn’t hers for some money. She kept some money of her own, but the rest went to the box in the camp.

As they were riding at a steady pace on their horses, to not cause suspicion, she started a conversation in the mist of silence between the two of them that didn’t have to be cleared.

“What exactly happened at Blackwater? I know it was bad, but I never really heard the whole thing. I joined at a later date than all of you, when you guys were more towards Valentine.” She looked over at him.

‘You don’t have to tell me, you know?”

Sorry for the late reply! Thanks for sending this in! I hope this was alright!

[couragestories]

continued from here with @troubledgunslinger

Mary stared at Arthur, her heart starting to race a little faster. This man in front of them seemed to be a dangerous one.

Mary was certain she heard the name “Colm” before. But just the way Arthur said it, made a shiver run up her spine.

She reached to grab his arm, fingers digging into his skin. She had so many questions but she knew she needed to keep quiet. 

[gatecoeur]

troubledgunslinger needs a hideout

Sorcière, they had called her in her hometown.  L'enfant du Diable. It’s what drove her this far south from home. She even avoided Lemoyne just in case news of her had spread there... In fact, she avoided civilization as a whole, opting to live off of the land as a lone nomad. Try as she might though, Arelette Gâtecœur just couldn’t avoid human interactions. People always seemed to find her and wanted to know more about her. Today was such a case.

The brunette was out hunting deer, keeping to the shadows and thick underbrush. She had spotted a buck taking a drink from a nearby stream, and was too focused on her target to notice that someone else was nearby. Both she and the stranger had somehow loosened their arrows to make the kill at the same time, ensuring the creature’s death. By the time Arelette had realized that there were not one, but two arrows in the buck though, the other person had already caught on that they were not alone, and had their gun drawn in her general direction. 

She sighed loudly, accepting her current disposition, and raised her hands up high before slowly standing up from her hiding spot. Arelette prayed that the man would just let her go, but she knew that was unlikely; the fact that she was wearing pants rather than a skirt or a dress was probably enough for him to question her. 

{ @troubledgunslinger }

[313248317]

@troubledgunslinger​ wanted a curious lawman

      “ Tacitus Kilgore.   That’s --  that's certainly an interesting name. “

      Especially since he fully knows that this man talking to him right now         was Arthur Morgan, but that was something he would just have to         keep to himself.  Instead he clears his throat slightly and moves out         of the way, motioning for Arthur - sorry, Tacitus - to walk past him         and deposit the bounty into the nearby jail cell.

      “ Is that English?  Irish?  You’re certainly American raised but... “

      The sheriff behind Connor is moving now, pulling out a few bills.

      So, this town really had no idea.  Well, maybe that was for the best         given how roughly the Van Der Linde gang got out of unfavorable         situations.  His left hand lifts absently to touch his lapel, glad for          the moment that his badge is still tucked away in his pocket.

[couragestories]

“ stay close.”

Mary didn’t really care for being told what to do. But she could tell that as soon as Arthur’s demeanor changed, something was wrong. She moved a little closer to him, keeping behind him as she looked around. She watched his hand reach for his gun and that made her heart beat a little faster. “Arthur... what is going on?” she whispered, grabbing onto his shoulder.

[couragestories]

closed starter with @troubledgunslinger

Mary wasn’t the one that was late. Usually she was waiting for Arthur to speed his way over to their planned date, typically with some excuse and looking like he was running from something and not to her. But here she was, almost running to town, still fixing her petticoat as she ran. She was supposed to watch over her little brother until her father got home. But he never came home. She had to find someone else to keep an eye on little Jamie. 

Finally, she made it to the train station and she looked around for Arthur. Maybe he left? Maybe he was equally as late? Finally she spotted his signature charming smile on the other side of the room. “I am so sorry. I feel and look like a complete mess, I am sure. It’s a long story...” she said, still a little bit out of breath.

[thiefhand-blog]

“you can’t save me from this.”

               “   i know . i know that .   ”    what he doesn’t say is :  if i could , i’d like to .    &   to not make it harder on arthur , he tries not to get overly emotional . tries to keep a straight face .

a tremulous exhale leaves him ,  &  he subtly wipes at his eyes .   “  i’m just angry . i never been able to save anyone that  —  mattered to me . ‘s always everyone else savin’ me   &  then watching ‘em  …  go . wish i could do what you’ve done for me . it’s not  —  it’s not fair .   ”   jaw clenches , hands balling up into fists .   “   sometimes  …  i guess i just don’t know the point , when this is always what happens , you know  ?   ”   his tone is so bitter that the words leave an acrid aftertaste on his tongue . lucky can’t even help  —  or save — his own damn self .

@troubledgunslinger .