＃QUASTARI. Indie & Private Multimuse Featuring Primarily Canon Characters From Many Different Sources.

how   long   will   this   be   cute?   when   i   can   no   longer   blame   it   on   my   youth.   

mayven   abel   —   multi-everything   original   character

mature   and   triggering   themes   present   on   this   blog,   novella   and   para   style   writing,   heavily   plot   based

penned   by   cash.   25+

est. 2012

Sorry that came off as aggressive, it’s probably because I’m being aggressive.

     she was NERVOUS to take the gun - he could see it. her hesitance reminded arthur of a winter's day a long time ago, when he was still a boy. dutch pushing a rusty cattleman into his hands & showing him how to hold it. how to aim. how to squeeze the trigger. the memory seemed so far off - like it belonged to someone else.

     arthur attempts to MIMIC dutch from those years back. ❝ any fool can shoot a gun. the fact that you actually hit the bastard already puts you way ahead, so try not to worry. ❞

     he reaches down to grasp her forearm, bringing it up straight & pressing the cool handle of his revolver into her palm. arthur does so slowly, as if hope were a wild mare he was trying to win the trust of. CAREFUL movements, showing no fear, eyes straight.

     ❝ don't point it at nobody you don't plan on killin'. keep your fingers tight 'round the handle. er ... little more than that. nah, it's just gonna go FLYIN' if you try to shoot like that. christ ... ❞

               her hands were much smaller than his.

     arthur circles around hope's back with a sigh, reaching for her other hand & bringing it up to the first. ❝ alright, let's try ... ❞ his voices falls off, his FOCUS on the positioning of hope's fingers.

     his thumbs guide hers, one atop the other. fingers curling over hope's around the handle, making sure her left covered her right. & with his hands still covering hope's, shadowing her own grip on the revolver, he squeezes. making sure she knows to do the same.

     ❝ now that ain't goin' nowhere. ❞ to prove his words, one of arthur's hands detaches to grip the barrel. jerking it once & twice, it doesn't budge.

❝  i  wouldn't  exactly  call  us  the  𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚  sort  ,  but  i  catch  your  meaning  .❞

she  follows  his  lead  ,  allowing  him  to  herd  her  toward  the  appropriate  spot  for  target  practice  .  watching  &  waiting  patiently  while  he  preps  ,  hands  remain  clasped  behind  her  back  -  almost  as  if  she's  still  a  little  uncertain  about  the  whole  thing  .  regardless  ,  he's  right  .  with  so  much  ground  left  to  cover  before  reaching  their  destination  ,  it  is  𝑰𝑵𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑻𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬  they  will  run  into  more  trouble  in  some  form  .  it  would  be  nice  to  know  a  thing  or  two  ,  in  the  case  of  something  else  going  sideways  .  .  .  as  it  often  tends  to  do  when  hope  is  around  -  &  arthur's  equally  turbulent  life  just  about  triples  that  probability  .

somehow  ,  still  ,  she's  never  felt  𝒔𝒂𝒇𝒆𝒓  than  she  does  by  his  side  .

❝  okay  ,  ❞  she  nods  ,  eyes  catching  the  way  the  firearm  glints  in  the  light  of  the  steadily  setting  sun  .  clearly  𝑵𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑶𝑼𝑺  of  the  weapon  &  what  it  can  do  ,  she  keeps  being  drawn  back  to  it  .  as  much  as  she  tries  to  deny  it  ,  the  events  from  earlier  that  day  have  certainly  shaken  her  .

hope  had  never  thought  herself  capable  of  shooting  someone  until  the  heat  of  the  moment  necessitated  such  an  action  .  it  is  all  still  so  𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒉  in  her  mind  -  the  surprising  weight  of  the  gun  ,  the  kickback  nearly  causing  her  to  lose  her  grip  ,  watching  the  bullet  impact  her  target  ,  seeing  the  man  go  down  .  .  .  should  she  regret  it  more  ?

hope  keeps  to  herself  that  she  feels  as  though  it  all  should  bother  her  more  than  it  does  .  maybe  that  is  just  what  happens  when  someone  intends  to  kidnap  &  ransom  you  for  all  that  they  can  extort  from  your  husband-to-be  .  it's  hard  to  feel  all  that  𝑺𝑶𝑹𝑹𝒀  ,  which  disturbs  her  quite  a  bit  .  especially  when  arthur  points  out  that  what  she  had  done  was  merely  a  half-measure  .

swallowing  hard  ,  she  tries  to  shake  those  worries  off  &  focus  on  the  𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕  lesson  .  ❝  so  ,  how  am  i  supposed  to  hold  it  -  'cause  i'm  pretty  sure  i  was  doin'  it  all  wrong  .  .  .  ❞

     ❝ it was a bear, alright. hungry one at that, ❞ is barrett's rumbled reply. with the shelving now upright, he could make out faint scours of claw marks etching the metal. tufts of fur sticking out of crooks in the corners. but aside from all the physical signs, the room simply REEKED of the creature.

     an adult male. black bear, maybe. stinking lightly of garbage when it went scavenging for a meal. he was only here for ten minutes, if that. gone for a couple hours.

     barrett's brow twitches when he inspects the cabinets. unlike daniil, a stab of SYMPATHY hit him in his gut. hunger was something barrett understood very well.

     ❝ why so much morphine, doc ? ❞ barrett casually rumbles out as he approaches the broken vials of the drug.

"The state of a bear isn't my foremost concern," Daniil shoots back, carefully sweeping away the glass shards from his shattered equipment. True to form, all he can think about is the money wasted—some of the broken instruments had come directly from the last days of Thanatica.

Barrett's help is appreciated, but he's not the sort of person who would understand the terrible miasma of frustration and apathetic concession Daniil can't help but feel, looking at the minor carnage in his lab. It feels, in the moment, like he lives a doomed life—all progress will inevitably and invariably be halted by some outside force that wishes him and his research to meet its swift end.

An ill twist of fate; he'd call it that, if he believed in fate. As it stands, Daniil knows he's only unlucky.

"But if you are indeed right about the perpetrator being a bear, it almost definitely got into the morphine," a downward quirk of the lip as further antsy frustration pulls at him, "and the fentanyl, judging by the state of my cabinets. Even half of what I was storing would be lethal for a human, and it'll be about as costly to replace as an arm and a leg."

hey this is your captain speaking. can everyone hold on real tight for a sec. i want to try something

Detti Kacsor

ARTHUR MORGAN in Red Dead Redemption 2 (2018) ↳ 43/?

jonathan archer tag drop.

@strcys asked: "I hope you like spicy food!" for will !!! hi !!!

" just how spicy are we talking? "

the question is followed by a teasing smirk & a tilt of his head. will riker was no stranger to PUSHING his own limits - the question was less genuine & more of an invitation.