#nthspecialll

[nthspecialll]

Yall get this one too bc it did well on my tiktok.

[gremlin-boah]

Dutch, I give thee, a mango... A regular mango... Totally nothing off about it... (Gremlin-boah, come closer, imma tell ya something, it is a rock painted as a mango)

Trolley incident? No. Mango incident

He's fiiinneee... Right @nthspecialll?

[nthspecialll]

Like are we still talking about the man who helped women with their "we want to vote" protest, comforted that woman in the Murfree Brood hideout and helped Sadie get her revenge on the O'Driscolls?

I hate when people (usually men on reddit) are like “if you met arthur back then he would murder you for breathing in his existence!” Oh would he? When? Before or after he’s finished doodling bunnies and flowers?

[dreamingatnights]

MAKE THE COMIC ABOUT HOW JAVIER GOT HIS SCAR!! PLEASEEEE AND IF YOU DO, PLEASE KEEP ME UPDATED

Dkfhfkfj I WANT TO BUT MORIVATION IS HAAARD

If you're curious you can always reach my dms though because i like... Already have most of my ideas down already and i could send you the script or smt 👀

[arch-aeology]

I saw @nthspecialll ‘s post and was struck with inspiration so here we are

bonus:

[pinkisposting]

As per request of @nthspecialll here's the screen recording I took of Rob's tiktok live where he explains why Javier's last name is pronounced the way it is!!

[nthspecialll]

Reblogging this here because I am lowkey proud of it. Is it perfect? No. Is it my best work? No. But it is the first time in a long time where my writing block wasn't present and that should be celebrated.

"Am I somehow so terrible that the woman who birthed me no longer deserved the affection of the man whos love created me?" A rdr fanfiction.

A short fanfiction about Jack Marston.

My uncle stood next to me, the brim of his hat shielded his eyes from the sun coming down from above. He held a fishing pole in his hand, his line ended somewhere out in the middle of the river where he had thrown it. My line is only half his length, my small arms could not handle more, he had caught three fish, I had yet to catch anything. I found fishing boring, the flowers in the grass further up the shore looked pretty, they made a nice necklace to mama.

Father, I can’t help but remember that day when you asked me to fish with you, when you grabbed the bucket and the two fishing rods. You looked awkward, but happy somehow, you didn’t quite know what to do with me, I didn’t quite know what to feel. I still found fishing boring but caught a fish before you did, you were impressed and I was unsuccessful in keeping spite from my voice when I told you it was uncle who taught me. You simply replied “oh did he now?”

Uncle was never a good fisherman, yet the day he taught me he told me I was the second little boy he had taught to fish, I used to wonder why I didn’t have a cousin if that was so, but with time it simply made me realise why he hated you.

He died eight years prior to that fishing trip with you father, meaning it had been eight years since my first fishing trip. I had been just four and when I stood with the rod in my hands again I had been just twelve, it had been just eight years since uncles death, you barely talk about him, your brother, I barely remember what he looks like, but I remember what I had seen him as; my father. He brought me a comic book, and I drew him a drawing of a family, it had been him who had taken the place of the father, not you, I carried not his blood but to me he was my father.

It has been eight years, eight years since your eyes last held disgust, eight years since you last yelled at me, eight years since you decided that you wanted to be my father.

While I forgave I never forgot and I never stopped wondering. Oh father, what did I do for you to reject me? What did I do to be unworthy of your love and why was it first when you decided I fit into your life that you allowed me to be your son? Whatever could a child still growing in the womb have done to make you hate it? I am a creation of love, I shared the blood of the woman you held dear, yet that affection not only did not extent to me it was also cut off from her when she came to carry me.

Am I somehow so terrible that the woman who birthed me no longer deserved the affection of the man whos love created me?

Father, did you forget? That day on the riverbed, had you forgetten the way you used to look at me? The way you never even tried to hide your disgust but would shout it so everyone would hear, you were so ashamed by me that you chose to humiliate your son of four years in front of everyone in the area. I cried to mama that day because my child brain did not understand that you hated her just as much as you did me, that she was just as hurt by the way you shouted at her as I was by the way you looked at me.

Father, did you know I used to hide in my aunt’s skirts yet I could still hear the sound when she slapped your cheek through the fabric? I remember it even now though she has not laid her hand on you for eight years, she wanted you to accept me. I was too young to know then, but I now know what she meant when she said “I don’t care how you feel about me, but at least make an effort with the boy.” Did you yell at her for telling you to love me?

Father, did you know I don’t react to my own name? The one we share? The one given to me by my mother before you decided to give me a nickname because the idea that the two of us would share four letters made you angry? I have never once been called by our name, though it has always been a dream of mine.

When you speak to me, you speak as if your voice has never carried anything but love, I wish it was the truth, and although I am happy it doesn’t give sour comments no more I can’t help but wonder when you decided I was worth your time? Was it first when you saw someone else take the role you had taken for granted?

I know the man you called father, the man I called grandfather, never carried your blood and you never his, yet it was also him you drew on drawings and it was him you taught you to fish. We are similar in that sense and because of that I can’t help but wonder when you took me to that riverbed, did you hope you could teach me to fish?

[emerald-ranch]

This reminded me so much of @nthspecialll and their post about what Arthur says after he falls, because what do you mean you were flung LITERAL METERS IN THE AIR and the appropriate reaction was “Damn that hurt”

[werewolfarthurmorganenjoyer]

I love the Jobigail, Sadigail and Jovier polycule because this means Jack is stuck in an endless loop of "ask your dad/mom" until Uncle Arthur comes to the rescue and takes the boy to the bookstore

(@nthspecialll because we talked about this a while ago lol)

[ghost-qwq]

part 2 to this I suppose

( @nthspecialll here ^^)

[nthspecialll]

The message made me so absolutely happy it had to go on the wall as well :,D

It is on the wall right by my bed next to a canvas of Javier and the DVDs of my fav movies

AAAAAH Alex!!! I never thought it would look so good once printed!!

This is making me so happy, you have no idea! I'm so so glad you liked my little message so much to the point of hanging it on your wall! Have the best of days and take care!! ❤️

[nthspecialll]

Smaller details

Red Dead Redemption two has a bunch of small details which would not be able to make a post of their own, so instead here are a bunch of my own favourite small spots and details within the game.

Abandoned Field Hospital

Between the V and E of "New Hanover" you can find an abandoned field hospital from the Civil War. It isn't a point of interest however you can pick a few bits and pieces as well as find four bodies, one of which is half missing... I hope for that person's sake it was done after death.

Saddened Actor

If you make your way down from the path by Whinyard Strait and jump down on a small ledge underneath before walking behind the waterfall, you will be able to find a hat hiding a suicide letter underneath. This letter is written by a famous actor within the universe named Robert Elliot Patchen who has preformed in big cities like New York or Chicago. However while he should have been feeling the like the happiest person alive, he felt nothing but sorrow, a sorrow so big that he ended up taking his own life.

Graveyard

The grave of General Quincy T Harris can be found in Saint Denis, a controversial hero in the civil war. Dutch's mother's grave can also be found in Blackwater, which wasn't something I had planned on posting but randomly remembered while writing this. Her name is Greta.

Frozen Horse

By Deadboot Creek you can find the frozen remains of a horse and it's rider, there is once again nothing of interest other than some old rum if I remember correctly.

[gremlin-boah]

I give Dutch, a horse made of mango

This one's fo yo Dutch!

Ah shit.

@nthspecialll I think he was hungry, he could eat a mango horse.

[outlawruben]

I love you guys, all of my rdr2 tumblr mooties are SO SWEET. Yall have no clue. Love yall. 💗

This is directed at:

@roamingtigress @eggsaladsweetie @the-van-der-linde-gang @nthspecialll @omgwhatchloe @slicedmayonnaise and @ everyone else I love you guys 💗💗💗

[werewolfarthurmorganenjoyer]

@nthspecialll Alex I think you should make an edit with this and Dutch

[pinkisposting]

Another installment of making memes with chats I'm in 🥰

This time DMs with @nthspecialll

This one has potential for a lot of fandoms I think