#redemption struggles
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fancy boys!
#red dead redemption 2#rdr#rdr2#red dead redemption#john marston#javier escuella#arthur morgan#charles smith#lenny summers#sean macguire#GUYS WHEN I TELL YOU I STRUGGLED DRAWING ARTHUR#I HAD TO REDO IT 4 TIMES#NO ONE ELSE MADE ME STRUGGLE SO MUCH#already started on the ladies#my art#luz-art
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Tim and Jason: Caught Between Healing and Fear
note: completely inspired by this amazing post! tysm to @timdrakewhump for letting me use it as inspo!! <33
Tim doesn’t flinch around Jason. Not exactly. It’s more of a stiffening, a tightening of his shoulders, a flicker in his eyes that he knows Jason catches. He hates it. Everyone else has moved on. Dick forgave. Bruce rebuilt. Even Damian, with all his sharp edges, has softened into something survivable. But Tim? He still expects a hit that doesn’t come, still hears the echo of fists in the dark.
And that? That’s on him, right? It has to be. Because if everyone else can move on, why can’t he?
They don’t talk about it. Not directly. The bats have always been good at side-stepping, at smoothing over the cracks with enough shared history to pretend the damage never happened. They act like everything’s fixed, like Jason is something fragile they have to keep close, hold together. They ignore the way Tim’s shoulders tense when Jason’s voice gets too loud, the way his hands shake when shadows fall just right. They brush off his excuses to leave the room or, worse, look at him like he’s the problem.
“Jason’s trying, Tim.” “He’s better now.” “Don’t hold onto the past.”
But Tim isn’t holding on. He’s bracing.
Every patrol with Jason is a test. Every sparring match, a gamble. Jason keeps it light—punches pulled, jabs softened with crooked smiles—but Tim knows what Jason’s hands are capable of. He remembers the brutality, the raw fury that doesn’t vanish just because it’s been filed down to something more manageable. He knows Jason’s trying. He knows Jason’s better. But there’s a thin line between better and safe, and Tim’s still learning how to balance on it.
When Jason starts spending more time at the manor, no one questions it. They welcome him with open arms, eager to fill the empty spaces his absence left. He’s part of the family, they say. He needs support, they insist. So Jason sits at the dinner table, helps out on patrol, lounges on the couch like he’s always belonged there. And Tim... Tim watches from the corner of the room, a shadow on the periphery, pretending he doesn’t notice the way everyone else orbits around Jason like he’s the sun.
They send Tim on solo missions now—so Jason can have space. They say it like it’s a good thing, like they’re doing Tim a favor. More responsibility, more autonomy. He should be grateful. And he is. Or he would be, if it didn’t feel like being exiled. The irony isn’t lost on him. They don’t want Jason to be alone, so Tim has to be.
The apartment is quieter than the manor, the kind of quiet that presses in too close. No hum of the Cave, no distant footsteps of someone always nearby. It’s fine. He’s used to it. He tells himself that every night, like a mantra. He likes the solitude. It’s familiar, comforting in a way that makes his chest ache. But sometimes, when the silence stretches too thin, he thinks about calling. Jason always picks up now. He’d probably offer to come over, bridge the gap that Tim never asked to be there.
But what would Tim say? Sorry I still see the blood on your knuckles? Sorry I can’t forget how it felt to be the replacement? Sorry you came back, and I thought it would fix things, but it didn’t?
He doesn’t call.
They’re terrified of losing Jason again. They hold him close, desperate, like he might slip through their fingers if they let go for even a second. Tim understands that. He really does. He remembers the hollow ache that filled the manor after Jason died, the way grief settled into the walls like a permanent stain. No one wants to go through that again. They’d do anything to keep Jason safe, to keep him here.
But no one asks what Tim gave up. What he’s still giving up.
Jason is here, but Tim feels like he’s the ghost.
Sometimes, when they’re all gathered together—Bruce at the head of the table, Dick and Steph cracking jokes, Duke helping himself to another slice of pie—Tim looks around and wonders if anyone would notice if he slipped away. Just stood up, walked out, and didn’t come back. Would they miss him? Or would they be too busy watching Jason, making sure he doesn’t disappear again?
He catches Jason watching him sometimes, eyes sharp and knowing. Jason’s not stupid. He sees the cracks. Tim wonders if he feels guilty, or if he’s just waiting for Tim to say something, to break the silence that’s grown too thick between them. But Tim won’t. He can’t. The words stick in his throat, heavy and bitter.
So he stays quiet. He goes on solo missions, patrols alone, comes back to an empty apartment that feels less like home every day. And he tells himself it’s enough.
Because it has to be.
#tim drake#jason todd#batfam#dc#family dynamics#jason’s redemption arc but make it tim’s struggle#why does the batfam always make it worse somehow#tim drake and his complex emotions#jason is doing better but tim is still struggling#i have so much fun writing (not so) silly tim ideas
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I'M ALIVE!!! i'm struggling a lot with my health recently so i havent had the energy to draw but... heres a little arthur for compensation
#arthur morgan#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#my art#trying to get used to drawing again bc its been such a struggle#jhdfghjdfhjgjhdfg
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My favourite journal entry 🫶💔

"My lord, I'm a fool. Went fishing with Charles today and somehow caught feelings instead of fish. I don't know why a man like him would ever want a man like me, but I always appreciate his company. Hope I won't throw this away too."
#😔🫶🫶#just kidding this is a fake page I made#did I fool you? hehehehehe#it's probably not that believable but I struggled hard with the arthur handwriting so shoutout to that person on reddit for the font#I'll link it if anyone wants it#mick squeaks#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#red dead redemption community#charles smith#charthur#micks pages
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Im so late to ursa discourse but trying to read the comics and the first few pages of dialogue are so weird

Like i get that azula was the "troubled kid" and ursa wasn't equipped to help or do much but at the end of the day one of azula's core issues is that her mom thinks shes a monster and doesnt love her so it is kinda on her to ensure her kid feels like shes loved by her mom.
Plus talking about "losing" her like shes dead. Girl ur kid was a 14 year old child soldier who had a psychotic break and fucked off into the woods, if ur so upset about losing her maybe you should go out and find her??
Like imagine Azula seeing this. Her mother worrying abt her "new replacement daughter" ending up like her and talking abt her like she's too far gone.
(also zuko knowing azula's struggling, heard her talk abt her mommy issues, and doesnt even try to defend just reassures their mom the new kid won't be like "the bad one" )
(if this all apart of plan i take it back but its not looking good so far lol)
#atla comic spoilers#azula#avatar the last airbender#atla ursa#ursa discourse#atla#i only mention zuko not doin much here bcuz those tweets talking abt the plan for azula redemption arc where zuko helps her#but look at this interaction and he aint helpin azula for shit#like he is not her uncle iroh#even when zuko was bad iroh would talk abt him as struggling but good at heart#i just dont have much hope for this eventually leading to that development or redemption arc ya kno#zuko neg#cuz its a lil negative towards him lol
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sauron is so *sighing facepalm* frustrating. he crawled, walked, sailed across middle-earth, made up the halbrand identity, did a boomer in-person job application tour around númenor, didn't lie to galadriel and he has the mental gymnastics to prove it, sailed back to middle earth with an army, fought a whole ass battle, faced his murderer with a mostly straight face, got impaled... somehow, risked sepsis on a six-day ride to eregion, brainstormed magic rings with celebrimbor, wielded tools and operated heavy machinery after said mysterious injury, clocked that his would-be girlfriend was starting to get the ick around him, took radical action, asked her to be his non-platonic business partner (the business being mass-brainwashing and dictatoring), took the L, regrouped, rode back to the southlands (now mordor) to enact plan b wherein he faces his murderer again, gets beat up, goes on a hunger strike (rage and self-pity are his fuel), relives his murder trauma for The Master Plan, back on a horse, rides from mordor to eregion, sadface emoji because he's not allowed to go in, stands in the square, gets rained on, risks regency-era pneumonia, flatters celebrimbor, comes up with plan b part 2 wherein he is now a representative of the valar with a great haircare routine and possibly a stylist, begins his campaign to gaslight gatekeep manipulate everyone in eregion, balancing a full-time job with psychological warfare...
my guy. you could've lived on a nice farm somewhere. gone on vacation. adopted an elven dog. being "good" is too much effort for you??? what do you call THIS?
#the rings of power#trop#trop spoilers#sauron#i love him your honor he is such an idiot#one minute he is truly terrifying. the next his FLOP is there for all to see.#WHAT ARE YOU DOING... you there fka mairon!!!#i get tolkien because i too struggle with wanting to throw him into a landfill while also wishing that i could reach through the screen#and one-ring him into working his own redemption#but he is NOT cooperating and he never will#ok landfill it is 🚮#and the more you think about third age sauron the more you *boromir facepalm*#those were certainly uh... choices... you made there... logic and stuff
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Rip Sadie Adler you would’ve loved The Wedding List by Kate Bush
#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#sadie adler#this took AGES I struggled so hard but HERE SHE IS#I saw that photo of her and jake she has in her house and the idea came to me#fanart#digital art#my art
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The weight of the sky seemed endless as the two of you sat in silence, the gentle hum of the Astral Express vibrating beneath your feet. Sunday’s gaze was cast toward the swirling cosmos outside the window, his eyes softened by the vastness before him. His wings fluttered ever so slightly, a subtle sign of something unspoken, something held close within his heart. His halo hovered faintly above him, the eyes etched within it flickering in time with the distant stars.
Beside him, you, a fallen angel, watched as the space between the two of you expanded and contracted, as if the universe itself was breathing in sync with your hesitant connection. Once, you had both been celestial beings, bathed in light and purpose. But now, the wings that had once been a symbol of grace hung heavier, tarnished by the fall, by the choices that had been made. Your shared past was no longer a dream of peace, but an echo of something more complicated—something fractured.
It was the stillness between you that felt the loudest. Sunday’s usual calm demeanor, always so composed, now seemed like a fragile facade, as if his very presence was too delicate to bear the weight of both his idealism and his doubts. And you—your once-vibrant wings were now a muted reflection of their former glory, the loss of innocence still fresh on your soul. You had fallen, yes, but in your heart, you both knew it wasn’t just the fall that kept you grounded. It was the constant struggle to rise again, together or apart.
You had loved him once, and perhaps still did, despite the years of separation, despite the wounds that had never fully healed. His soft gaze met yours briefly, and for a moment, the distance between the two of you seemed to vanish. But only for a moment. The coldness of his self-imposed solitude crept back in, shrouding him in the same protective shell that had kept him isolated for so long.
He, the protector of dreams, the idealist who wished to escape suffering, now seemed caught between worlds—the one that was real and the one he so desperately wanted to create. You understood that pain; it resonated within you, reverberating through every fiber of your being. The loss of your wings had not been a simple fall; it had been a choice, a fracture of ideals, a departure from a reality too painful to face.
Yet in that fleeting look, you saw him—the Sunday you had known before everything had fallen apart. The one who still clung to hope, however fragile, despite the weight of his guilt. The one who believed in redemption, in healing, even when the path forward was cloaked in shadows. He was still searching, still yearning for something better, but it was unclear whether he was doing it for the world or for himself.
Your wings, though broken, still yearned to reach him. To soothe the turmoil that clouded his thoughts, to whisper the truth that you both were more than the sum of your pasts. You had fallen, yes, but you had also risen, over and over. And so had he, in his own way, struggling with his own fall.
But it was the fall that had changed you both. The quiet way you drifted into each other's orbit, two souls bound by the same celestial ache, yet bound by the knowledge that redemption wasn’t a place—it was a journey. Together, but apart, your connection remained fragile, and yet undeniable, like the stars that burned dimly yet persistently in the void.
As the train drifted further into the unknown, you sat beside him, not speaking, but knowing. Knowing that no matter how far the distance stretched between your hearts, there would always be something that tethered you both together—a shared past, a shared longing, a shared, quiet hope.

Originally was requested by someone on Wattpad but I wanted to post here too because I can and I will 🧍♀️🫶
#x reader#honkai star rail#hsr#honkai star rail x reader#hsr x reader#sunday x reader#sunday#sunday x you#sunday x y/n#sunday x fallen angel!reader#redemption#emotional struggles#star crossed lovers#philosophical themes#trauma and healing#introspection#hurt/comfort
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to the reblog tag “can they kiss” from the original post with their dumb tshirts, yeah sure i made them kith :3
#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#john marston#javier escuella#jovier#rdr2 modern au#this didn't turn out exactly how i want it but my hands be struggling#sorry if it looks weird my hands are nerfed#kayomin
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hes so yummy in that cloak wish this outfit was real
#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#javier escuella#rdr in the big 2025 still obsessing over this one bih is a real struggle
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Today’s 30 min sketch in my sketchbook of faces before I have to go back to regular work 🥹
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sooo i found this picture of all-dolled-up mr marston and was asked to draw him <3 so i did
#ive been struggling with artblock NOW during ARTFIGHT and it has made me feel like#crap#soo i had to draw something no pressure#rdr#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#red dead redemption#john marston#my art
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i honestly love it when people say "nobody gets (insert character) like i do" because yeah! everyone experiences media and relates to characters in a different, personal way and i think that's beautiful :3
#we're all different but equal#fandom#fanart#rdr2#hzd#video games#fandom culture#comfort character#blorbo#fanfiction#fanfiction tropes#fanfic struggles#fandom struggles#fandom relates#fandomblr#anime#kieran duffy#horizon zero dawn#red dead redemption 2
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One chance, two endings, pick your honour.
#I've never made a moodboard before so this might be rushed because I just put it together quickly#but I'm really trying to hype myself up to do a low honour run#I'm struggling#my moral compass is being tested#how dare it#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#mick gifs#arthur morgan#red dead redemption community#red dead redemption gifs#oh arthur
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i wanted to try a digital study
#they're very fun to me :] at least with javi#i struggle with kieran so absolutely much but javier gets easier and easier every time#i think because he's so ... soft ? whereas kieran is more square and sharp#and naturally my style is more soft and round. there's something psychological about that i feel but i haven't unlocked that level of#introspection yet#anyway. here he is. i had a lot of fun with this. i always enjoy studies when i'm in the mood but up until now they've kinda been sacredly#reserved for my sketchbook where they are arguably harder to do. idk why but it's more fun to me that way#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#javier escuella#image#art#hero draws sometimes
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It’s so sadly apparent that Arthur struggles with deep-seated depression.
When looking in the mirror at the Valentine motel he comments on how ugly he looks, how old he is, how no wonder “they leave” him. At the saloon when Lenny asks him why he never got married Arthur says “no one would have him” but in a tone that causes deflection with self-deprecating humor. While going fishing with Javier and the fish won’t take his bait, he explains that it’s not the bait, that it was him, and how he and Hosea were always better at fishing. When journaling about his TB diagnosis he writes how he “always longed for death.”
It’s so heartbreaking because that low self-esteem is reinforced by the losses that have befallen him coupled with the outlaw life he leads. He was groomed from a young age into believing his hands were only good with a good as opposed to a pen with parchment, yet he captures facets of life in ink so beautifully. He claims to be dumb and ignorant, but he speaks with a far more educated vocabulary & knowledge than most. There are so many values stored within Arthur’s soul, but his blindspots thrown down to him like a lifeline only allow him to see the heartaches of his life. And the only way to make sense of those heartaches is to assume he simply deserves them
#this poor man has been through it all of his life#his mother died when he was young and it’s largely implied his relationship to his father wasn’t a healthy one#he got a woman pregnant and tried his best to support her and the child but they were both found as grave stones#he was engaged to mary but they wouldn’t accept him and he lost her#he struggles so much it actually twist a knife in my stomach eleven hundred times#arthur morgan#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#jay talks rdr
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