WHATS GOOD KINGSTER

oh man. i love horses. they're real special. i wish i had a horse. that'd be cool. horse. horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse horse

MY LOR !! MY WIFE HAS POSTED !! but for a second there i thought you were talking about me but SHOAH !! i identify as a gumshoe now :3

MY WIFE!!!1!!!11!!1!!!!!

(alt. version without the text to the right)

hes so skrungle bungle,.,,.,..,,.

This. Is such a DAMN good answer. I'm going to think about this for the next few weeks and not sleep because of it. Faith, generally that fuels people to keep going, to believe in something to its very last vestiges. But faith misplaced is a life misplaced, and there's been a lot of it. thank you for this response. it's such a intriguing brain thought, i feel.

Just for somethin' I'm thinking about, whadd'ya think every gang member's biggest flaw is? Sometimes, it's not so obvious, sometimes it's obvious. Or maybe, it's obvious, but it's a flaw that's framed as a positive trait??

I think it was faith.

I think the fact that the gang kept believing in him for as long as they did, I mean Tilly and Grimshaw kept belief almost up to the end, which kept them from facing the reality that he was unfit to lead.

All of them seem to have moments of doubts, Bill has in chapter one, Hosea has in chapter two (telling Abigail to pack and 'be ready'), but they don't really act on it, there is still the small hope that... Maybe it will work it.

I think if they had accepted that Dutch was not fit to rule and let Hosea or Lenny and Sean take over (as Hosea had been preparing them for), then I think they would have had a higher chance at surviving.

Dutch keeps framing faith as the thing that will save them, but I think it was what made them fall.

after a moments consideration is that just being bisexual or am i tweaking

i have thoughts, small thoughts, but thoughts nonetheless

i think i think theres a lesbian inside javier theres something in him its so ,, lesbian i dont think it wants to get out but the lesbian would think it would be cool if it did! strange...

truer words have naught been spoken, wifey!

with the power of autism and my hyperfixations i silence the entire group chat by speaking

wassup homie guess who am i B)

howdeez ,, i saw your follow, honey... you're not that slick :]

i might be cooked !!

so like a year ago i won my school's spelling bee contest, first placer i beat the graduating class's best freakin' contestant i dunno HOW THAT happened </3 SHOULD ,, probably be proud of myself for that but like. GANG. NOW IM IN THE CITY WIDE (or ,, city wide private school) SPELLING BEE CONTEST. I AM ,, BARELY LITERATE !! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO !! EVERYONE PROLLY SMARTER THAN ME !! send help, i am merely a queer angel. i do not have the knowledge of words. i am

the tweaked.

eating this up ??? im in love with the idea. jovier...

Poco a Poco

A Jovier drabble :p

A/N: Thought about how rdr1 John knows a couple of Spanish words, so naturally I wrote about Javier teaching John Spanish.

Words: 865

“But if you teach me, it’ll be like our own secret language. We can use it when we rob. People would be none the wiser to what we’re saying.” John’s tone was awfully convincing as he followed Javier through the busy camp. 

“It’s not a secret language, John.” Javier began, rolling his eyes as he placed down the hay bale he had been carrying with a huff. He watched as John did the same before continuing, “And I don’t like hearing gringos try to speak it. It’s... annoying.”

“Green-goes, look I’m already getting started.” John smiled in pride, “Now what does that mean?” 

Javier couldn’t help but give a short laugh at his dear friend’s ignorance, “Don’t worry about it.” He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, the midday sun coming down on them.

Javier brushed his hands together, a silent beat passing as he pondered. Finally, he looked back up at John, “...You really think it’ll help us on jobs?” 

John smiled brightly, knowing he had successfully convinced his dear friend. 

*🁓*

Javier remembered learning English. He would hear others speak it around camp and caught on to a few common words they’d share. He remembered sitting down with Hosea and having semi-conversations with him, never feeling judged by the man when he inevitably messed up. That was always the hard part— the fear of sounding and feeling foolish. He knew he wasn’t stupid by any means; but in English he sure felt like it. There were so many rules and confusing phrases that felt almost designed to trip you up. But he had to learn. 

When he practiced aloud, alone in the corners of camp, it always came down to swallowing that fear of sounding stupid.

Maybe that’s why it seemed so easy for John to learn Spanish. 

Javier admired how brazen John was; how he repeated the Spanish words with an almost reckless confidence, even if he was butchering the words. 

He sat across from John at the camp’s table, the both of them playing dominoes as Javier “taught” John Spanish, though it was starting to feel like just teaching John how to say different curse words in Spanish. 

“How do I call someone a son of a bitch then?” John asked with a coarse chuckle, placing his next domino down. 

“Hijo de puta,” Javier replied slowly with a smile, placing his own domino down. 

John repeated the phrase: wrong, but with his never ending nerve. 

Javier couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, “You’ll get it.” 

“This language learning stuff is hard,” John admitted, placing down another domino, “I don’t know how you did it, makes me feel like a— pen-day-ho.” He finished, referencing the word he had just learned. 

“Pendejo,” Javier corrected softly, “It takes time. Don’t worry, you’ll get it.” 

“Easy for you to say,” John grumbled, “You already speak it.” 

Javier recognized the frustrated feeling easily, feeling like you’ll never get it. 

“You’ll get there.” Javier reassured him, placing his final domino, “One word at a time.” 

*🁓*

And it really was one word at a time after that. Javier was slightly surprised at how serious John was taking his newfound Spanish lessons. He had moved on from curse words and instead would trail behind Javier as he pointed out different objects around camp to be translated for him. He learned: el caballo, los árboles, and even el whisky. 

“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” John grinned. The pair were sharing a log as they were both hunched over staring at the campfire. 

“We’ll be using this to rob people in no time. We can hit a stagecoach easily, we go in rápido, get the dinero, and then we can vámonos.” John finished in his thick American accent, seemingly proud of himself. 

“Yeah, maybe one day, compa.” Javier replied with a broad smile, looking back to the fire. 

It was in the small victories that he found joy in. He had found himself looking forward to John’s clumsy, but enthusiastic attempts at Spanish everyday. John’s lack of self-doubt, once annoying to Javier, had now become quite endearing. 

“So, how do you say,” John began, breaking Javier’s train of thought, “Give me your wallet.” 

“Dame tu cartera.” Javier replied easily, laughing silently to himself at John’s choice of phrases he wanted to learn. 

“Dame tu car-ter-uh.” John repeated, fumbling over the last syllable. 

“It’s ‘ah’ not ‘uh’,” Javier gently corrected. “Try it again.” 

John sat up straight to focus, “Car-ter-uh.” He tried again, feeling like his mouth just couldn’t get the right shape. 

“Here,” Javier said, sitting up and turning to face John. He placed his hand on John’s chin, the scruff brushing against his fingers, “Try it again.” 

John felt slightly flustered at the touch, but tried anyway, this time letting Javier’s hand guide his mouth, “Car-ter-ah.” 

“There it is!” Javier beamed along with John. He felt his hand linger for a moment before finally taking it away, clearing his throat softly, “I knew you’d get it.” 

The two turned back to the fire before them. It wasn’t their secret language yet, not by a long shot, but it was a start.

Just remembered that Sherlock Holmes was written before rdr2 and Hosea is a fan of crime/mystery novels n therefore he might have read SH n enjoyed it ?? Then this goes for A.J Raffles as well, since Ides of March was published in 1898, if it would've showed up in America...

Hmmh. I just like Hosea Matthews. the man he is.

half way through i started crying save me cas, save me I AM CRYING im literally so devastated because this is TRUE. hosea is a father through and through and... dutch is... dutch is himself. Or do hypocrites not have a self, i wonder.

The use of both Hosea and Dutch call Arthur their "boy" or "son" is something I've been thinking about a lot recently...

Hosea uses it as a reminder. Arthur is his boy through and through, and there never needs to be any questioning on that fact.

Dutch also uses it as a reminder, but for a different reason. He wants Arthur to remember that *he* was the one who plucked him off the streets and gave him a full belly and a place to call home. It's a reminder to Arthur of where his loyalties should lie.

Not saying that Dutch is entirely evil; in the earlier chapters I can see it being meaningful. But towards the end its clear, Arthur isn't his boy anymore. He is a tool that's starting to rust.