#vanderlindc

[vanderlindc]

❝  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙴  𝙾𝙵  𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂  𝙶𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃  𝙽𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 . 𝙼𝚎𝚗  𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍  𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚊𝚕 ,   𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚢  &  𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎  𝚏𝚘𝚛  𝚊𝚕𝚕 . 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝  𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝  𝚋𝚎  𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚎   𝚝𝚘𝚘 ,  𝚋𝚞𝚝  𝚒𝚝’𝚜  𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚑  𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐  𝚏𝚘𝚛 . 𝙸𝚃’𝚂  𝚆𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙷   𝙱𝙴𝙻𝙸𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶  𝙸𝙽 .  ❞

[missoshea-blog]

@VANDERLINDC  .  *//    CONTINUED   FROM   HERE  .

                     BOLD , COURAGEOUS ——- FEARLESS . dutch van der linde was a hero in the eyes of few , a modern day prophet who could do no wrong , only right . he beared upon him the responsibility of his disciples , of his divine crusade to overthrow civilization and forge a finer life for those loyal to the cause — loyal to him . however , molly o’shea had been around long enough — or perhaps close enough to the man himself — to be able to see well beyond that messiah-like guise of his . to be able to see that beneath it all , he was only human . just a man at the end of the day , and nothing more .

                     the answer to her question , she already knows . fear eats that man alive , and she has watched it do so for weeks now . how he tosses and turns throughout the long nights , how he chews through his pricey cigars like termites through rotting wood . he looks tired , worn . those umber eyes seemingly darker than what she once recalled — and she can see it all coming through . HIS FEAR . clawing at the thinning ice that keeps him so contained , that hides what trouble and conflict dwells low beneath the surface .

                     even with a stomach filled with liquor ,  the final confession on her lover’s part is enough to stir up a sense of foreboding in molly o’shea’s clouded mind . ginger brows knit together and the freckled flesh upon her nose crinkles in the very slightest , those scarlet lips coming together in somewhat of a pucker . she’s watching him like a hawk , every move he makes , every glance he casts . searching his eyes for the truth , raw and unpolished . the splintering of glass against wood leaves the young woman unfazed , and instead she inches closer to him , eager to hear more . to know more .

                     ❝ —— you’re afraid yer concerns will dishearten this lot ? ❞ her question is spoken softly , but then comes the mention of hosea — and the expression upon freckled features shifts entirely . of melancholy , empathy as she watches him open up to her . although buzzed , she’s conscious enough to realise just how truly tragic all of this . a man so ridden with fear , but entirely unable to express it — not even to his woman . not even without delving into an intoxicated state and losing all control first .

                     he says that he has faith , but to molly it seems that his said faith is dwindling without him fully knowing it yet . and when he says that —— ❛ we were never meant to survive . ❜ a chill runs down her spine , and never before has she felt so cold . not even during their biting stay in colter .

                      fingers tighten around the near-empty bottle kept in hand , and she cannot help but feel a little bit betrayed by that statement of his . an inkling of despair found in her eyes as she locks them with his own . ❝ if we were never meant to survive , why are we still here ? ——  w h y  are we still fighting ? we’ve- you’ve made it this far , an’ i think that says somethin’ . ❞

[loielic]

     the bullet had only GRAZED the side of his thigh during the untimely event of some ambush by the o’driscolls bastards. it wasn’t hard to dispatch them all, thanks to the skilled duo and the burning anger of dutch the second he had heard javier cry out in a moment of familiar pain. once the gunfight dies down, javier is kneeling behind worthless cover of a fallen tree, applying PRESSURE to the gashed wound.  ❝ it’s fine, just a scratch. ❞  he attempts to stand, hissing the second his weight forces blood to ooze like a river, soaking his pant leg.  ❝ we should get going before more show up and head back to camp. ❞

( ` @vanderlindc )

[enturmoiled-blog]

@vanderlindc​

     in hindsight, john should have gagged him when the rope was first hitched around a slack pair of ankles, or when the bruise he’d dealt was little more than a splotch of red across a silver-dusted temple, the man bearing it a nondescript weight strewn over the back of a borrowed horse, rather than some bleary-eyed palimpsest of someone john once respected. loved, even. 

     of course, he’d loved javier and bill too, and if the couple of them aren’t cold in the ground by now, it’s because javier’s noose has become tangled up in government-issue red tape, no more, no less. the bonds of the past don’t change much, and they certainly don’t address the problem john recognizes in the last remnant of that life coming to, tied and contused as he may be.

   ❛ . . . do us both a favor and don’t say nothin’. ❜ ( there’s a warning in there, albeit wearied and competing with crackle of dry brush kindling in the fire. john watches him from the corner of a sharp eye, but pays no further tribute. he’s given dutch enough for one lifetime. arthur gave enough for them both, alone. ) ❛ you know i ain’t listenin’, and i know you ain’t never once listened to me. ❜

   ( john tosses a curl of manzanita into the flames, face impassive, his thoughts corralled away from the wilds of their shared history. ) ❛ — too late to start now, way i see it. only reason you’d want to is to save your hide, and i’m afraid that ain’t up to neither of us no more. ❜

[missoshea-blog]

*//    A   STARTER   FOR   @VANDERLINDC  .

❝ you saved me , dutch . ❞

dainty digits brush gently against the calloused skin of the older man’s cheek in a  t e n d e r  caress . those loving fingers of hers eventually finding their way to his ebony hair , so immaculately slicked back ,  e v e n  in a time of  STRIFE  . and as she twirls a raven lock around her finger , molly o’shea can’t help but smile as she reminisces on  ALL  that they’ve been through , all that he has  p r o m i s e d  her , and the fateful evening they  f i r s t  exchanged glances .  ❝ if it weren’t for  Y O U  running into my life , all guns  b l a z i n g  , holding my  h e a r t  for ransom . . .  — it  TERRIFIES  me to think of where i’d have ended up . ❞ 

[enturmoiled-blog]

@vanderlindc​ |  ♥.

   ❛ y’know, dutch, ❜

   ( he starts, a bottle pinched by the neck between his knees, a peripatetic thumb running against its glass lip in idle strokes. his beer sloshes, lapping gently at its amber confines as his hands feint gestures john hasn’t the energy to follow through with, eyes shuffling up from the campfire but not quite reaching even the height of dutch’s cheeks. guilt — or shame, or whatever it is — keeps his gaze heavy, anchors it in the glow of dying logs at his feet. )

   ❛ apart from you an’ hosea, i’m startin’ to think folk didn’t want me back none. it’s like . . . i don’t know, i shouldn’t’ve left, but — maybe i shouldn’t’ve come back, neither. ❜

[culthcnt]

One Word Prompt. -No Longer Accepting!! @vanderlindc​

betrayal :  my  muse  finds  out  that  your  muse  has  betrayed  them  in  some  way  and  confronts  them  about  it.

      Often times, the outlaw did ‘commissions’ for stealing certain objects from certain people. Usually Kassandra asked for the same amount of what the item was worth, or even higher if she felt the job was going to be quite a big one. Though in the end, she was usually able to steal the item and bring it to the one who paid her to do it. This time, it was an older man that ran some kind of gang- but she didn’t question too much into it, even if she should of. The next day, pinkertons were at her little ‘homestead’ and had guns pointed to her. Growling lowly in her throat, she had a feeling who did this. The man who commissioned her. After a little bit of shooting, she had managed to escape- charging right for where she could find the man. Getting off her horse without stopping him completely, she charged ahead and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, holding him up against a tree with all her strength.                           ❝You tricked me! Give me one good reason not                         to slit your throat like the coward you are.❞          She growled out, not caring if others were around. Right now, all she cared about was confronting him with a sharp hidden blade to his throat.

[lonesighta]

        TAIMA IS LEFT TO GRAZE ONCE SHE IS HITCHED, the familiar busy sound of horseshoe overlook greeting him with open arms once he sets foot back into camp.    sean’s welcoming-back festivities had caused the camp to wake at a SNAIL’S PACE, lumbered grumbles throughout and complaints of the hangovers that would surely come as the day progressed.    charles is one of the first awake, fetching a fresh bucket of water, and checking the local traps he’d set about outside of camp.    he returns with a fresh rabbit upon his shoulder. being mindful of the recent burn on his dominant hand.    out of the corner of his eye, he spots SOMEONE ELSE leaving his own tent, and charles goes out of his way to greet him --- slight inclination of his head out of RESPECT, voice just barely over a breath.    ❛    g’morning, dutch. did you sleep okay?     ❜

@vanderlindc / ♡ !