Red Dead Redemption Two - Tumblr Posts
Self reblog
Dutch Van Der Linde
It's here!! The records are beautiful and it sounds lovely ❤️
Javier Escuella ❤️
Hello darlin' ❤️
Hello darlin' ❤️
DAMN I DIDNT EVEN THINK ABOUT THIS UNTIL NOW!
“Go be with your family!”
“Arthur.”
“Get out of here and be a god damn man.”
“Arthur!” “You’re my brother..”
“I know. I know.”
Constantly thinking about the cliff scene with Arthur and John. Arthur urging him to go 'be with his family' and John replying with "You're my brother."
"You're my brother."
as in;
"You're my family. I need to be with you."
this game makes me SICK i am depressed. how could r* do this to us
i was thinking abt this in the car when going out, im physically weak. their brotherhood im AARHHHH... ;(
Micah's involvement
You cannot tell me that Micah was not involved in the kidnapping of Arthur in Blessed Are The Peacemakers, it is, to me, as clear as day.
Firstly, we have the very obvious fact that Arthur being kidnapped was the whole point of the meet up, but him being seperated from the others was Micah's idea. There wasn't a guarentee that he would be seperated, nor that it would just be Dutch, Micah and Arthur who went. It might as well have been the whole gang, and if so then kidnapping Arthur would have been impossible. There would have been too many "what if's" for them to plan that whole idea.
Secondly, Pearson is not a known Van Der Linde gang member. He does not have a price on his head, he is not a known theif, he is not a killer, he does not leave the camp with anyone who is does often. How would Colm know he was with the gang? Yes I know Colm and Dutch worked together in some form, but it wasn't buddy buddy, it was just more of an aggreement if they saw one another they wouldn't attack. I doubt Colm saw the people who stayed in camp, and I doubt that they scouted the camp because no doubt those on guard would notice.
We also have the very obvious manipulation that Micah is doing on the way to the meeting spot. Starting to "doubt" himself in order to Dutch to get all poetic and feel like a big leader leading his people, I would guess this is Micah's way of preparing Dutch to leave when Arthur did not show up at the fork road. Dutch said that they went to wait there but that Arthur didn't show. Dutch is not completely gone yet, I do not believe he made the continuous decision to leave Arthur without anyone pushing him just yet.
It is too many coincidences and "what if" that went right for me to believe that there was not an inside man on it.
I need drawing ideas to gimme some rdr2 requests :3333
Headcanon Arthur Morgan from Red Dead Redemption 2 and we can adopt everyone you want - Your gracious husband
(YAYYYYYY MORE BABIES <- has issues)
Arthur Morgan from Red Dead Redemption 2 is intersex, transfemneumasc, raspberrystimmic, sillybodiment, cutebodiment, meowstimmic, catbeaniegender, sweatercomfic, gigglestimmic, cumascian, xenoboy, bimboboy, b♡y, digiboyluvsic, softstaric, idol boygirl, lovebeing, lovefluid, idolgender, starryxic, stargender, bubblegender, eepygender, sleepygender, sillygirlgender, catnipgender, aroflux, aceflux, spring aromantic, uranic, and saturnic.
It prefers the pronouns it/shi/hymn/pink/color/soft, and shi uses masc, fem, or neutral terms.
Soft has autism, ADHD, depression, social anxiety, chronic pain in colors back, wrists, and legs, and PTSD.
ps: I'm gonna make you regret your fuckin words >:3
also ps: fag
OH. oh..
Tilly told her children that she was an outlaw, every night before they went to bed. In her own way.
They adored the tales of young, brave Matilda who ran with an infamous gang led by the notorious, charming Tacitus Kilgore. They pulled their blankets tightly around their shoulders and watched with widening eyes as their mother described wagon chases, the smell of a freshly shot pistol, the mud and the heat and the endless sky.
"But what happened to Tacitus, Mama? Where did he go?"
The same question, every night. Tilly would smile, and shake her head, and promise that the story was far from over. Be good, she'd say, and tomorrow you'll hear about how Tacitus and Matilda rustled a whole herd of cattle in the dead of night. Be good, be good, be dear, sweet boys.
The newspaper was a dagger in her gut. It pushed its way into her flesh, slowly, delightedly, as she continued to eat her eggs and toast and fresh strawberries from the garden. Her husband asked her if she was quite alright and she nodded too quickly, too desperately. He watched her for a time, before looking away and leaving her to whatever it was she couldn't tell him yet. She had told him plenty, but not all. He knew. He loved her evermore for it.
Tilly carried the newspaper with her all day, up and down the hallways and in and out of the nursery. She read it again and again, her teeth clenched, her knuckles white.
He was dead, finally dead. The man who raised her. The man she lost. The man she hated and loved and grieved for every time she saw a sunset. The man who first laid eyes on a terrified child and saw everything she could be.
Death had found him after all.
And if he couldn't outrun it, nobody could.
Tilly carefully cut on the article and placed it in the back of Leslie Dupont's first novel.
That night, her children sipped warm milk, like they always did. And Tilly stroked their heads, like she always did. And like they always did, they asked her what happened to Tacticus Kilgore.
"Another time, my loves. Not now, not yet."
Red Dead Redemption II quotes that changed me.
"Take a gamble that love exists, and do a loving act." -Sister Calderón to Arthur Morgan.
"You Don't Get To Live A Bad Life And Have Good Things Happen To You" -Arthur Morgan.
“We’re More Ghosts Than People” -Arthur Morgan to Sadie Adler.
“Be loyal to what matters” -Arthur Morgan to John Marston.
lifehack: when you see a Take One candy bowl in a restaurant, wait until noones looking and shovel candy into your pockets. god may judge you but his sins outnumber your own
DESERVING
Title: Deserving
Summary: A one-shot love story featuring Arthur Morgan and John Marston in which John struggles to understand Arthur's new behavior around camp.
Word count: 1.6k+
Notes: mild cursing | feedback is appreciated!!!
Tags: @southernlynxx @rdr-secret-cupid
I’m your secret cupid, @southernlynxx !!! I'm so sorry this took forever dear; the past few weeks have been totally insane and out of my hands to control. I chose your first wish and decided to mix it up with some good reassurance (happy) angst which i found fitting for the theme;
John trying to understand & accept Arthur’s affection around camp! I hope you enjoy it, happy late Saint Valentine’s day!!!
P.D → I was inspired by this photo I took in my game! Totally worth it.
John never thought it would be like this.
At first, it was awkward—maybe bizarre. But that was just the beginning.
As the sun rose from the West, John walked out of his tent like a dead man; dark bags under his eyes and scratching his side, yawning without shame. Thirty minutes of sleep—or less—felt great. Just what he needed, right? Taking guarding rounds at night for the past few weeks to avoid him. Yes, that man. The one who had become his greatest relief and headache at the same time, Arthur Fucking Morgan.
While John agonized, Arthur was at his best. Refreshed, clean, and glowing like a damn pearl who had found its way to the surface, gleaming under the Sun—too shiny for John’s liking. Thankfully, his tormenting and seductive eyes were nowhere to be found yet. But, why was John avoiding him as if he was a pest? It’s complicated, you’ll understand later on.
John walked to the empty soup cauldron and grabbed the coffee pot next to it and a metallic cup nearby. He sighed as he sipped from the coffee he had just poured himself; feeling the smoke coming off his mouth like locomotor steam. He needed it to be functional, it had become his coal and main source of energy.
He stood next to the fire in the common area, waiting for Dutch to give a speech he had asked everyone the night before to hear. Why the hell would he give a speech so early in the morning when even the rooster hadn’t yet given his call to the sky? He wondered, staring his distorted reflection in the coffee in his hand.
It was a quiet morning, everyone who woke up, quickly waved at John and left to grab a coffee, or so it remained until the feared one appeared. He walked graciously without effort, his shirt had some buttons undone that showed his chest and collarbone, looking like a damn angel. He rinsed his face and John saw with detail from afar how every drop of water dripped down his face and neck. It made him thirsty. That man was no other than Arthur Morgan.
Arthur ran his hand through his hair and over his nape. To John, that man could’ve been the Devil himself walking on Earth, an angel who had fallen from Heaven for his ego. He was too full of himself, afly in making everyone blush in a moment’s notice. Before John could realize, Arthur was staring at the red in his cheeks and grinned, satisfied from his reaction.
“Damn you!” John whispered, looking anywhere but at him as he burned his tongue and narrowed his eyes.
Arthur, with his smug grin, quickly grabbed his coffee and sat next to the fire a few feet away from John, who didn’t know Arthur was just mesmerized with his foolishness, head over heels for a stubborn and reckless but loveable little piece of shit—a nickname truthful to his nature. A true rascal! Against his better judgement and all prognostics, an all-standing jinx befell upon him like rain in a desert.
He admired John from the ground, his strong jawline, the scars on his cheek that ran to his nose and the corner of his lips. However, his foul mouth didn’t catch up with his beauty—quick witted and far too fast for his train of thought that always got him in trouble. Arthur drank from his coffee and looked at John in the eye who, this time, didn’t turn their gaze away but held it dearly.
“What are you thinkin’ about?” John asked with his raspy voice, trying to sound uninterested but contradicted by the widened pupils in his curious eyes.
A walking contradiction, Arthur thought with a grin. “Wanna’ know?” He took a long swig of his cup and let it sit in his lap.
John hesitated for a moment. "No." Nevermind.
The blue-greened eye man cleaned the corner of his mouth with his thumb and licked it and slightly blushed. "What a shame."
John couldn't stop staring Arthur, something had lit in the corner of his mind.
"Anyway, what does Dutch want this early in the morning?"
"Don't know, don't care." Arthur rolled his eyes and looked at his feet.
John gulped, bothered by Arthur's sudden behavior to which he decided to blind the eye on.
"He's been acting... strange," John mutters, making a long pause.
He was right. Dutch had changed; it was the gleam in the eye he had always told them to not have—those of an ambition far too great, burned by being too close to the Sun. Everybody had noticed but kept quiet, making a silent agreement in not talking about the matter. John had a hunch of what it meant, but also kept quiet.
"No more than you; what's going on with ya'? Did the wolves eat the brain whole? You've been avoiding me!"
Did he notice? He knew he wasn't hiding the fact so well, but admitting it hurt his pride.
"The hell you sayin'?! No, I haven't!"
Arthur smiled in response, as if it was the answer he was expecting.
"Why?"
John narrowed his eyes.
"Why what?"
"You know."
He stood up, spilt the coffee left in his cup into the fire and slowly walked to John. His body swung with temptation, a fierce cat-walk with a daring look in his eyes. John felt like his feet were stuck to the ground, unable to take just one step aside to avoid the storm walking straight to him. His metallic eyes were bewitched by Arthur's; he sure knew how to charm him every damn time.
He didn't stop until he towered over John, trapping him with his voluptuous figure.
"Why are you so shy?" He whispered to John in the ear with a burning breath that heated and tinted his cheeks in deep red.
John forgot how to breath. He was so close that he felt their bodies touch and their minds collide.
"I, uh..."
"you what, dear?"
How shameless could the bastard be? Didn't he have any limit?
"I don't wanna talk here; let's go somewhere else." John imposed in a soft mutter.
"Alright."
They went to John's tent taking hands. They were cramped in such a small place, where their breathing burned eachother's skin and only a dim light shined through the entrance. A long pause arrived when the world had seemed to stop rotating and time had gone somewhere else, making everything but them oblivious and unimportant.
"I don't understand why are you doing this," John said with long sigh, finally giving in.
John rested his head in Arthur's shoulder, feeling his body finally relax after the tense moment.
"I thought we were a secret, ya' know?" he muttered, "a thing only you and I knew. Our thing."
Arthur combed his fingers through John's black hair, softly caressing the back of his head and humming in agreement.
"I don't seem to understand why you smile at me every time you see me or why you, like, want to touch me every time you can—or when you look at me like that."
"Does it make you uncomfortable?"
"No! I, ugh... I don't know."
Arthur chuckled. “I get it.”
John sighed in relief. Did it mean he would stop acting weird? I mean, Arthur would always be a bastard no matter how you look at it, but he called it an improvement.
“I'm sorry” he continued ”, but there's no stopping me in loving you.”
What. In. The. World. That's not what he meant!
“Arthur, you're not listening—”
“Every damn word, of course I do...”
“Then why are you doing this?!” John buried his head deeper, frustrated. “I'm an asshole, okay, I get it. But that's not a reason for you to do this to me.” Enchanting me, making me drunk with every word you whisper. Damn you.
“John, I—”
“I don't deserve it.”
A long silence between them came to be except for the more recurrent footsteps outdoors, stumping into the grass and dirt. John held tighter to Arthur, who stepped back only to take a closer look to his face, eye to eye.
“Listen closely, you little piece of shit.”
John flinched to the sudden grab by his collar, wanting to look away but Arthur only held his gaze closer.
"There's no denying that you are an idiot— but my idiot. I'm a fool myself, an old dirty bastard that's only getting older with every day that goes by, thinking that I'm the happiest man alive every damn time I look at you and even though I know I don't deserve it either. I ain't a good man, John. And you fucking know it." He grabbed his collar stronger as if it was a threat, with that dead look in his eyes that had seen the deeds their owner had done.
After Arthur realized what he did, he let John go.
“If it was about deserving, John, you would've never been mine."
He gently took John's hand laid it in his face, placing a gentle kiss in the back of his hand.
John couldn't speak a word. His mind had gone blank except for the beautiful image of Arthur lovingly playing with his fingers, laying kisses in the tip of his fingers, and the words that uttered in the corners of his mind, echoing Arthur's whispers.
"I'm sorry, John. But I beg you, let this damn fool love you and show it to you."
John placed his hand in Arthur's earlobe. As if both had read their minds, they looked into each other's eyes before leaning into a soft, gentle kiss.
Their kisses never tasted sweet. It was rough, with sweat and blood that was so common in there lives. Neither of them deserved the sweet taste of paradise, but they were making one of their own.
“You make me feel like a fool, Arthur.”
“You too.”
John wished this moment lasted forever. He wanted to enjoy the moment when their souls had gotten closer, but a voice outside called.
“Arthur, John, Where are you?!” Dutch called, irritated of waiting.
They separated and held each other's gaze for a moment.
“We should go,” John whispered tenderly as he rolled he eyes.
“Let's go,” Arthur chuckled.
Arthur gently held John's hand before heading out of the tent, ready for the world.
IN SICKNESS – JOHN MARSTON
(I'm sick & this is how I cope, so it might suck I'm sorry 😭.)
The weather around you was something you admired as the leaves turned all shades orange and allowed themselves to fall with the gentle guidance of the autumn breeze and eventually meet the grass, contrasting their hues. Yet a much-hated characteristic of this season was how easily anyone could contract a sickness they'd have to suffer with for at least a few days.
The usual chatter around camp was nothing more than an annoying buzz in your ears as you lay in your bedroll, trying to ease your discomfort.
Your sickness started with subtle symptoms, and brushed it off–you had matters to attend to, and you had certainly faced worse than this. The donation box wasn't going to fill itself. Everyone had to do their part before starvation was another thing this gang would worry about.
It wasn't long before exhaustion caught up to you. Your body came down with a fever as it tried its best to heal itself, heat pulsing through your skin as you began feeling pain, finding its way into your bones, and making a home of them.
You weren't much of a use for the gang right now. Not while you couldn't move an inch without feeling like your legs would give out at any given moment. Not when everything outside of the blanket over you was freezing for your currently burning up body.
Yet, no member present in camp left you to rot; with everyone showing their concern about your well-being in their own way, as Pearson provided you with warm meals, Arthur and Sadie fetching medicine to ease your pain and the remaining people close to you made sure to contribute enough cash to the camp to cover this week's expenses to cover your part as well.
While the rest of the gang did their bit in different ways–John remained stubbornly sat by your side; watching over you every passing second, making sure you were okay as he tried his best to help you get comfortable. He knew he could easily contract whatever had you breaking down, but he simply didn't care as much as he cared about you getting through it.
Certainly, if not everything, then most things around you felt uncomfortable; the sounds that worsened the ringing in your ears, the way the light made its way through the tent flaps and landed right on your eyes, making your head hurt, or the way you felt completely weak. You just couldn't decide which was getting on your nerves more.
“Hey, I need you to sit up.” His rough voice snapped you out of your trance as you tried sitting up with his help despite your body's protests. “There ya go.” John sighed with relief when he saw you finding the courage to follow his instructions, a small smile tugged on his lips as he brushed your hair out of your face before he reached for the medicine he had lazily placed beside your bedroll.
John carefully popped off the lid and gently held the bottle against your lips, waiting for your breath to steady. “You got this, it's alright.” He mumbled softly in an attempt to ensure that the ringing in your ears wouldn't become unbearable because of him. Much unlike his usual coarse personality, this time around, there was something soft and kind with the way he was treating you with care as if you were something to be handled delicately and looked after.
Me when people draw fanart of Javier and they forget to add his lil double chin
