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#rdr2
idrawfanart · 8 minutes ago
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I tried some new brushes.
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not-great-not-terrible · 9 minutes ago
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Teaching my 2 y.o. some new phrases tonight after she manipulated my husband into making her a PBJ instead of the dinner that was served. He had referred to her as "Baby Dutch" so it seems only fitting that she can now say "one moh skoh", "ta-he-he", "ya-ya-he (loyalty)", and "I ov annn (I have plan)"
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sunsetkenobi · 54 minutes ago
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witchcraft for the cold and weary
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pairing: arthur morgan/f!reader
wc: 1.1k
contains: fluff, rdr2 ch. 1 spoilers, appearances from jack, tilly, & abigail, nonchalant attitudes about possible capital punishment for the gang (that’s really how they are though), trying to keep warm in colter, arthur morgan is a sweetheart, need i go on <3
notes: this isn’t what i usually write or even my usual fandom and i am 100% sorry to those that follow me for sw lololol i might make a sideblog because after writing arthur once i don’t know if i can stop :,)
It’s cold in Colter. Colder than anything you or anyone else in the gang has ever felt, or can at least remember feeling. There’s been a lot of huddling for warmth lately. No one is above shame or sharing body heat anymore.
This evening is no exception. 
Miss Grimshaw, bless her, has somehow managed with the help of some of the men to get a few fireplaces running in some of the cabins. For you, this means huddling up with Tilly, Abigail, and Jack, while Dutch and the others conspire about something at a table behind you.
The good thing about fire, though, is that you can boil water on it. Water for drinking. Water for pouring into a cup and holding close to your body. The heat stings against your hands, but it’s welcome compared to the raging winds outside. At this point, you’re too tired and freezing to care. It was a long journey up this stupid mountain, and you'd give up everything you have to get back down.
You can’t help to feel for Jack. There’s a rise in the voices behind you, and your eyes flick over to Abigail. You know she’s doing all she can for the poor boy, and it certainly didn’t help when John’s barely alive body was brought back to camp. Jack’s shivering but huddled up in a couple of blankets around the fire, everyone wanting to pitch in to keep the kid as comfortable as possible. Whoever said there's no honor among thieves was a sore liar.
Situating the cup securely between your legs, you reach out towards him. 
“Jack, come here,” you say. “Wanna show you something.” The poor kid shuffles over to where you sit on a scavenged bench dug out of the snow, a sight that gets a slight chuckle out of Tilly. 
“What is it?” he asks, eyes wide. He’s got a blanket over him like a hood. 
“Watch,” you say, reaching your hands towards him. They’re warm from holding onto a mug of hot water, and you cup his face. He immediately slumps into your hands, his eyes closing with a dramatic sigh.
“That better, Jack?” Abigail pipes up. You’re surprised but happy to see a small smile on her face. 
“Much better, Mama,” Jack answers, then looks at you. “How do you do that?”
You narrow your eyes at him as you lean closer. “Can you keep a secret?” Jack nods quickly. Kids always want to be in on secrets. “Well... it's witchcraft,” you whisper, pulling your fingers back and wiggling them around. Jack’s mouth falls open in a tiny ‘o’ shape, and Abigail reaches over to give your shoulder a shove. 
“Now, don’t go puttin’ ideas in the boy’s head,” she scolds. “That’d like to get both of you killed.” But you spot a smile on her face that she’s obviously trying to push down. There’s a million things anyone in the gang could be hung for– witchcraft being the least likely, though you guess it isn't altogether impossible
Jack’s still hung up on it, though. He sits by you, tugging gently on your skirt. “Could you… teach me?” he asks, sending everyone into a small fit of laughter. 
A few heavy footsteps sound from behind you, and your bench creaks as someone sits down on it. 
“Now what does a feller have to do to get attention from a genuine witch?” His voice is low, raspy but warm even in the coldest winter. The way he drags out the syllables in gen-u-ine makes you press your lips together. Looking away from the others, you gather the courage to meet his eyes. 
You always had a thing for cowboys.
“Mister Morgan,” you breathe, picking your cup back up and taking a sip. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You pull your woolen blanket further up your lap, trying to ignore the flush of heat brought to your skin. 
“Ah, c’mon,” he presses. His long legs reach towards yours, your knees almost bumping as he shifts. 
The girls get quiet, exchanging quick glances. You and Arthur have been sweet on each other for the longest time, and bets run amongst the gang as to how long it’ll be before someone does something about it. The current betting pool is around ten dollars. 
It’s hard to blame you, though. Arthur’s handsome beyond even his own belief, tall and strong and igniting something in you that you just can’t deal with. When he looks at you… it’s like the world stops. So you can’t hold his gaze, can barely hold a conversation without melting into a puddle. 
It doesn’t stop him from trying to court you, like a proper gentleman. It only makes him long for you more. 
You’re pulled back to Earth by a poke on your temple. Your attention snaps back to him, his head tilted slightly to the side. 
“What’s goin’ on in there?” he asks, lips twitching into a smirk. 
This time, you drop your cup down onto the floor eagerly. “I’ll show you.”
“Show me what?” he asks, drawl peeking heavily through his words. 
And then you’re reaching out towards his face, everyone else disappearing away. His beard has grown out since being stuck on this mountain, and it scratches slightly against your skin. But you cradle his face in your hands, thumbs warm from the hot mug and brushing up and over his cheekbones. 
And then finally, finally, you catch him off guard for once. His eyes are big but soften over you, and this time you can’t bring yourself to look away. Not as he rests his head further into your heated hands. Not as one of the men chuckles at the two of you. 
Not as he turns his face to kiss the palm of your hand, lips soft and dry and completely Arthur. 
“Witchcraft?” he mumbles into your skin.
“Something like that,” you answer. 
-
That night, Charles catches Arthur trying to sneak you away towards his cabin. He finds himself ten dollars richer the next day.
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shittybundaskenyer · an hour ago
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“He’s playing with fire and he knows it well. He doesn’t care, not really when he already had his fair share of burns before in his life. What are a few new scars when there’s warmth near the flames? Burning is all he did, he muses, burning like a match, a campfire, like the fuse of dynamite quietly spitting sparks until the inevitable explosion. 
Steph is a spark too, alive, wild—kerosene poured onto hot embers, but it doesn’t hurt when he leans in and gently presses his lips to hers.”
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sunsetkenobi · an hour ago
Is Arthur Morgan that cowboy
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(first gif is my own- i couldn’t find credit for the second!!)
arthur morgan is THE cowboy 😌🤠
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sunsetkenobi · 2 hours ago
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i wrote a small little arthur morgan x reader fic and i’m debating posting it here since i know most of my followers will be like?? who tf ?? but like. arthur morgan..... my beloved......
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neptuneshinee · 2 hours ago
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I wish we could have had more missions with Hamish and Albert Arthur definitely seemed to bond with them the most he genuinely had found a friend in them both
(I also lowkey ship Arthur and Albert)
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neptuneshinee · 2 hours ago
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looking at the comments under ship fanarts of rdr2 is exhausting "its 1899 they're not gay" tf? do yall fr think gay ppl only started existing recently
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gayforkieranduffy · 2 hours ago
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RDR2 DBD Killer mains headcanons because its taken over my life
Arthur: Deathslinger or Nurse, usually lets the last survivor go if they aren’t toxic, struggles with the Nurse’s ability a bit and forgets to reload as Deathslinger often
John: Executioner or Nightmare, not the best with their abilities and usually gets chased by thirsty survivors when Executioner
Kieran: Pig or Huntress, always lets survivors farm and is a friendly killer, just stares at oblivious survivors fixing gens as Pig to see how long it takes them to notice him crouching behind them 
Karen: Ghost Face or Legion, memes with the survivors if they aren’t toxic, otherwise destroys survivors
Mary Beth: Oni or Plague, gets called hacker with how good she is at both killers, once got stuck in the vomit animation with Plague and memed with the remaining survivors with it
Tilly: Wraith or Shape, needs to remind herself to hold down button to uncloak as Wraith, will always find the players who just hide in the lockers all game and camps them on the hook (as she should)
Sean: Blight or Hillbilly, has zero control over Hillbilly’s chainsaw and nearly always runs into walls, surprisingly good at Blight’s ability but only on certain maps
Bill: Cannibal, he camps and only camps
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gallantgamersworld · 2 hours ago
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Meet Eastwood. A braver horse you never did meet... Until he sees a snake.
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gallantgamersworld · 2 hours ago
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Found out Rockstar kept my old playground accessible! I was so happy how much they listened to the fans and our experiences and our favorite things to do to pass the time and screw around, the attention to detail!!
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gallantgamersworld · 3 hours ago
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When you go back to your old playground and you can still climb what you used to!
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gallantgamersworld · 3 hours ago
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Conjoined horse twins!
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gallantgamersworld · 3 hours ago
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Honey Badger don’t give a fuck.
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gallantgamersworld · 3 hours ago
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Wow this dude has some serious magic tricks!
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gallantgamersworld · 3 hours ago
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Fuck Nazis, then, now and forever.
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gallantgamersworld · 3 hours ago
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Oh great. Now I got to unstick him.
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novaiya · 3 hours ago
“You’re alright girl” 🐴
All I want is to hear Arthur whisper “That’s my girl,” while we’re laying in a flower field, with my head in his lap and his fingers playing with my hair 🥲
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