dsrtrose

[dsrtrose]

i  know  that  i’m  supposed  to  be  normal  about  rdr2  and  rabid  abt  other  things  rn  but  like.  it’s  literally  just  a  story  about  love  and  humanity  and  nature  and  the  coexistence  of  those  three  things  and  just  exactly  what  lengths  you  would  go  to  in  order  to  protect  the  things  /  people  you  love  and  i’m  actually  NEVER  going  to  be  normal  about  that

[dsrtrose]

WALTON  GOGGINS  AS  REVEREND  SWANSON

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how  i  feel  watching  the  rdr  rpc  revive  itself  for  a  few  weeks  before  everything  fades  2  black  for  another  year  or  so.

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Send [ APPROVAL ] + (a decision that your muse is making), and I'll tell you whether the action GAINS approval from my muse, LOSES approval from my muse, or if approval is left UNCHANGED. ♡

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[ 24. ] sender drapes a blanket over receiver, accidentally waking them. "sorry, go back to sleep." - Raylan Givens

eliza  doesn't  quite  remember  dozing  off  in  the  chair  she's  now  slumped  over  in  -  it  takes  her  a  moment  to  remember  exactly  where  she  is  when  she  feels  the  light  touch  of  a  blanket  being  draped  over  her,  eyes  clouded  in  a  groggy  state  as  she  begins  to  gather  her  bearings.

she  said  that  she'd  keep  the  good  marshal  company  while  he  watched  over  town  -  at  some  point,  watching  drunken  bastards  stumble  out  of  the  saloon  across  the  street  did  her  in  &  one  blink  became  an  unexpected  nap.  (in  truth,  maybe  she  just  feels  safer  with  him  than  she  does  her  own  gang.)

"i'm  awake,"    eliza  mumbles,  sitting  up  straighter  and  stretching  beneath  the  blanket  that  slips  from  her  shoulders  onto  her  lap,    "i  -  ...  sorry,"    she  apologizes,  honesty  in  the  slight  bashfulness  that  turns  her  cheeks  a  warmer  shade  of  pink.  her  eyes  finally  focus  on  raylan,  smiling  sheepishly  at  his  kindness,    "didn't  mean  to  pass  out  on  your  porch,  marshal.”

*        MEME,    still    accepting        /        @liftedrelics        🤍

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in  truth,  it's  more  for  him  than  it  is  for  her  -  getting  out  -  it's  a  question  of  survival.  arthur's  body  will  soon  collapse  under  the  weight  of  dutch's  expectations  if  he  doesn't  find  some  kind  of  reprieve.  were  it  just  her,  she'd  probably  let  the  grand  master  of  it  all  continue  to  orchestrate  her  fate  -  if  it  was  just  her,  she'd  let  what  she  loves  kill  her.  for  arthur  ...  ever  since  arthur  -  it  isn't  that  simple  anymore.  thoughtlessly  and  intentionally,  she'll  bear  the  brunt  of  everything  if  it  means  seeing  him  survive.

it's  his  turn  to  waver.  to  doubt,  to  sit  and  feel  the  feelings  that  are  positively  impossible  in  the  face  of  the  man  they've  both  trusted  with  their  lives.  second  chances,  found  family  and  the  blood  that  binds  them  -  the  blood  that  they've  shed  and  spilled  together.  it  is  eliza's  turn  to  hold  arthur's  head  and  heart  in  her  palms,  escorting  him  to  safety  and  promising  the  future  that  they  have  earned.

arthur  morgan  stands  at  an  impasse  -  'not  a  good  man',  'far  from  perfect'  and  still  more  heart  than  any  half-witted  city-slicker  could  dream  up.  she  waves  away  his  warning  tone  with  a  jut  and  simple  shake  of  her  chin,  lingering  on  the  anticipation  of  her  biggest  ask  of  him  yet.

she  almost  turns  bitter  at  his  imposed  selflessness  -  she  will  not  let  the  learned  behavior  sour  this  moment.    "you  know  what  i  want,"    she  exhales  -  i  want  you  beside  me  for  the  rest  of  our  days,  no  matter  where  we  go  or  what  we  do,  so  says  the  eyes  that  have  watched  him  give  and  give  and  give,  till  it  finally  took  a  physical  toll  by  the  devil's  hand.  it  stings  to  believe  it.  (if  she  lets  that  reality  sink  in,  she'll  be  physically  sick.)    "i  will  not  leave  you  behind."

of  course  he  trusts  her.  there's  difficulty  in  her  soft  smile,  but  it  doesn't  show  -  not  when  it's  her  turn  to  hold  strong.    "trust  me,"    she  repeats,  keeping  his  gaze  and  nodding  through  the  comforting  simper  on  her  features,    "an'  do  what  i  say,  when  i  say  it."    eliza  has  the  weight  of  more  than  four  souls  strapped  to  her  back  without  a  shred  of  doubt  that  she  can  make  sense  of  the  mess  they're  in.  at  least  she's  got  a  plan.    “promise  me.”

both of his eyes are rimmed red by exhaustion. a sickly red incapable of being remedied by rest alone, especially while he's still out running fool's errands for the gang. arthur's more pile of rag and bone these days, but he holds eliza's gaze with as much undivided attention as he can muster in the moment, drinking in the sincerity expressed like mother's milk. from what he can see, despite any evidence of anxiety and grief that's stricken her own fair countenance, it doesn't dull her beauty, not one bit.

somewhere in his gut, arthur knew it was coming, the bold suggestion that they abandon ship ( for the second and final time ) or risk certain death while it all collapses in on them, burying what's left alive. arthur inhales, his chest aching not only of illness, but of heartache. if he knows anyone in the gang, it's eliza, or so he thinks. there's plenty to suggest he knows absolutely nothing about anyone save for micah bell who is openly and unabashedly despicable.

dutch is someone he'd placed on a pedestal ages ago. for decades now, he'd put both his trust and faith in the wrong man, or maybe it's that this man doesn't exist, or maybe he'd never existed to begin with. an elaborate ruse of which sounds ludicrous. all of the ideals he'd championed for dutch. the bullets he'd let fly under the guise of freedom. the dawning realization is like a slow-growing tumor, discovered too little, too late.

but if he were to die on his own terms, and for the right reasons.

' eliza .. ' arthur warns, grimacing under the weight of the unknown.

all of it is just too much to reckon with. too much to unpack and no space within which to do so without disturbing the status quo, but she's already done the unpacking for him, and holding his hand, no less. he covers hers hands with his. ' what i want is for you, john, abigail .. little jack .. to get out while ya' still can, ' he says in a rasped tone, ' but to answer your question .. yes, of course i do. ' trust her, he means. inexplicably, almost desperately.

[dsrtrose]

send  extra  memes  or  forever  hold  ur  peace.  (:

[dsrtrose]

she  is  blinded  by  rage,  all  sense  and  rationalizations  absconded  by  the  perilous  desire  for  revenge.  so  much  so  that  eliza  barely  pays  any  mind  to  the  shell  of  a  human  that  sits  before  her,  privy  to  her  story  only  for  the  coin  that  it  may  earn  him;  she  disarms  any  thought  of  who  he  is,  why  he  hides  his  identity  and  just  why  he's  willing  to  take  on  such  a  loose  cannon  as  herself  -  it  doesn't  matter.

"no,"    eliza  parries  evenly,  heeding  great  effort  and  care  to  keep  her  tone  as  even  as  possible  -  she  is  undeterred  by  his  easy  denial  of  her  wishes,  all  the  more  determined  to  get  what  she  wants.  if  he  won't  give  it  to  her,  she'll  find  someone  who  will  -  her  own  safety  be  damned.    "no,"    she  repeats,  leaning  in  toward  his  gravelly,  conservative  tone,    "i  kill  them.  i  want  them  t'know  that  it  was  me."    there's  little  to  be  questioned  with  on  the  front  of  vengeance.  her  frustration  builds  and  she  visibly  tenses,  her  fingernails  digging  into  her  palms  as  she  tries  to  find  some  semblance  of  composure  -  the  images  of  her  slaughtered  family  still  flash  behind  her  eyes  every  time  she  blinks.

“they  took  everything  from  me,”    she  admits  in  a  softer  register,  voice  cracking  as  eliza  swallows  heavy  emotion.  there  is  no  alternative.    “i’m  goin’  with  you.”

with @dsrtrose / continued from here

he does not show his face. not to people that hire him, not to friends, not to anyone, even when they ask. even when they're nice to him, the lone mandalorian remains concealed — subverted behind heavy black cloth tucked over his nose. he remains that way even here, even now, seated across from a rather desperate woman who seems to grip the surface of the wooden table between them like she might slide off if she lets go. the fire in her eyes is unlike anything din has ever seen (caustic, frantic, like she's just witnessed hell and come crawling out of it with the last ounce of life she has left). i don't know their names, she tells him solidly, and din is about to speak up and ask more when she cuts him off — i know where they were headed next. what they looked like. what they smelled like. din gives a steady nod. it's all i've got, she finalizes, setting a pouch of coins upon the table, and din, squinting beneath his wide-brimmed hat, gives the bag a nod, until...

— i want to go with you. it's the last thing he's expecting to hear when she finishes her words, when she stares him down across the table and crushes his gaze with her own. there are plenty of things he wants to say in response, but he stops himself. he stops himself at the cusp of confession, lets his shoulders lean back into the wood curve of his chair, and stares at her, heavy.

"that's not how this works." din hasn't spoken much, so his voice is raspy and grating. "i take them out, and you pay. you don't come with me."

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eliza  and  tilly  are  really,  really  close.

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yes  i  am  hyperfixating  on  rdr  things  like  a  genuinely  crazy  person  rn  but  1)  this  too  shall  pass  (at  some  point)  and  2)  i  try  to  CRANK  UP  productivity  here  on  my  days  off  bc  work  tends  to  take  up  all  my  brain  space  +  time  otherwise.  (“:

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eliza  ‘i  will  do  it  myself’  kardel.

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it  would  make  sense  for  all  supernatural  /  mystical  /  etc  forces  (characters)  rooted  in  evil  to  be  afraid  of  love  incarnate  (eliza).  the  one  thing  that  can  totally  and  completely  disarm  evil?  love.  unconditional  love.

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:) (threateningly)

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28)  receiver is trying to do something rash so sender simply picks them up to make them stop and listen. 

she’s  halfway  to  screaming  herself  hoarse  and  damn  close  to  shoving  a  knife  into  micah’s  neck  by  the  time  eliza  feels  her  feet  lifted  off  the  ground  -  the  anger  directed  at  the  world's  finest  antagonist  turns  to  confusion  before  trickling  back  into  frustration.    "let  go’a  me!"    eliza  is  seeing  red  when  she  realizes  that  it’s  dutch  who  has  carried  her  from  the  would-be  deadly  confrontation;  suddenly,  indignation  melts  into  betrayal.

the  ever-loyal,  bleeding  heart  of  the  gang  hasn't  even  settled  before  she  careens  toward  dutch.    “why  d’you  choose  him  over  the  rest’a  us?  over  me?”    hurt  is  written  plainly  across  her  flushed  cheeks  and  deep  in  familiar,  dark  brown  eyes  -  pleading  with  their  leader  to  see  that  she  isn't  just  overworked,  overtired  and  temperamental:  this  situation  has  turned  life  or  death.  (they're  supposed  to  trust  each  other  -  implicitly  and  boundlessly.)  eliza  has  half  a  mind  to  push  past  dutch  and  lean  into  killing  micah  all  over  again;  it  takes  ample  effort  to  keep  her  lower  lip  from  trembling  and  giving  into  the  heavy  emotion  seated  in  her  throat.

an  accusatory  finger  jabs  at  dutch's  chest  as  eliza's  voice  finally  cracks,  sounding  just  as  disheveled  as  she  presents,    “you’re  breakin’  my  heart,  dutch.  right  down  the  middle.”

*        MEME,    still    accepting        /        @vderlinde        🤍

[dsrtrose]

little  things  that  mean  the  world  to  eliza/reciprocated  kindness  and  empathy  that  she  gives  but  doesn’t  think  she  deserves/doesn’t  know  how  to  process  in  return:    going  with  her  on  rides/trips  out  of  camp  (for  any  reason).  letting  her  tag  along  on  rides/trips  out  of  camp  (for  any  reason).  helping  her  braid  her  hair  (there’s  a  lot  of  it).  putting  the  little  bouquets  of  wildflowers  that  she  picks  for  everyone  in  makeshift  vases  +  keeping  them  alive  with  fresh  water.  rather  than  dismissing  her,  listening  when  she  has  something  to  say.  making  sure  that  she  eats  alongside  everyone  else.  helping  her  understand  her  worth.

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❛ close yer eyes, miss. ❜

she's tying a length of silk (deep, crimson red and embroidered with the faintest heart pattern) 'round eliza's neck with careful fingers- a little souvenir from saint denis and a thank you to the woman. for her goodness and kindnesses. for everything.

❛ there... pretty as a picture! i reckon it suits you just fine, miss eliza! you like it? if it ain't for you, i'll put it in arthur's mane when he ain't lookin'. that hair of his gets any longer, someone's gon' have to! ❜ / 🥹 HHHGFSD

"what  d'you  think  you're  doin'  -  !"    the  request  of  eliza  to  close  her  eyes  is  enough  to  have  her  wary  of  whatever  comes  next  -  the  only  saving  grace  is  the  one  who  says  it.  in  truth,  eliza  would  trust  most  anything  that  sadie  adler  said  or  did  alongside  her  own  safety  -  she'd  trust  the  other  woman  with  her  life.  still,  that  doesn't  assuage  the  fact  that  she'd  probably  play  a  trick  on  her  if  she  thought  it'd  make  eliza  smile  -  and  yet,  she  indulges  &  shuts  her  eyes.

instinctually,  eliza  flinches  as  she  feels  a  touch  to  her  neck,  softening  remarkably  as  the  feeling  of  silk  and  sadie's  gentle  fingers  grace  her  skin.  when  eliza  opens  her  eyes,  she  looks  down  at  the  ribbon  hanging  from  her  neck  and  turns  a  perfect  shade  of  pink.

"i  ...  i  love  it,"    she  answers,  earnestness  painting  her  tone  the  same  color  as  the  silk;  eliza  leans  in  to  engulf  the  other  woman  in  a  big,  bright  hug,  squeezing  all  her  affection  into  the  embrace.    "thank  you,  sadie.  you  didn't  haf'ta  do  that."

*        /        @wildlcck        🤍