I canāt draw trees but I can draw a chicken š
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@johnmarstonskittenwiggle
I canāt draw trees but I can draw a chicken š

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Iāve been getting back into The Hunger Games and need fanfic recs. Give me your faves. Cannon, non-cannon, AU, high school. Any ships.
Red Dead be like:
āHow will they know that theyāre a big bad gunslinger in a gang?ā
āMeh⦠slap a scar somewhere visible⦠there. Jobās doneā
Potata Soup (An RDR short story)
Arthur Morgan sighed as he looked at the young boy, cold, probably afraid and confused as he sat, curled up, in the tent at the camp. āGoddamit,ā the young man muttered as he stood up and grabbed a bowl off the makeshift table outside his own tent and walked to the small, ragged tent located in the corner of the camp.
āHey, there, kid.ā Arthur knelt down at the opening.
āLeave me alone,ā the boy muttered meekly, his knees tucked up to his chest as he hugged them tightly. He looked small, skinnyā too skinny, to be frank.
āThought you might be hungry. Brought ya some potata soup.ā He held the bowl in his hand, extending it toward him. āAināt nothinā special but itāll fill your belly.ā
āI aināt hungry. You best go on and git or youāll be real sorry, mister,ā the boy uttered with a slight tremble to his tone.
Arthur let out a huff and sat with his legs crossed at the tentās opening and set the bowl down in front of him, nudging it toward the child.
āI said I aināt hungry.ā The child looked back at him.
āAlright. I get it, you wanna be stubborn. Thatās fine but Iāll be damned if Iām gonna sit here and watch you starve, boy.ā With that, Arthur stood up and walked back toward his own tent, glancing back to see a pair of hands reach out and grab the bowl, pulling it toward him.
He smiled softly as the boy picked up the small wooden spoon and slowly lifted it to his chapped lips, taking a small taste of the broth before slurping down a few bites. āWoah, slow down there, kid. Youāll get a stomachache,ā Arthur blurted out uncontrollably as he walked back toward the tent the boy was in. āHardy eatinā for a lad that aināt hungry.ā He chuckled as the child wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt while Arthur once again knelt down.
āShut up, will ya?ā The kid muttered as he finished the soup, slurping the remains from the bowl.
āFeisty one,ā Arthur muttered. āWhatās your name?ā He asked.
āJ- John,ā the boy looked at him. āJohn Marston.ā
āNice to meet you, John.ā Arthur smiled in satisfaction, extending a hand out. āNameās Arthur Morgan.ā
āThis donāt mean nothinā, Mister Morgan. Iāll be gone come morninā.ā John laid the bowl off to his side.
āHate to hear that, son. Tough kid like you will do just fine surviving these harsh lands.ā Arthur looked at him sincerely.
āIāll be jusā fine.ā John looked at the ground and then at his hands, which laid lazily in his lap as Arthur stood back up to retire back to his tent. āHey, Arthur?ā John quipped out.
āYeah, John?ā Arthur looked down at him as John stood up.
āBefore you turn in for the night, mind gettinā me some more of that soup? Iām famished.ā John looked up at him with an innocent gaze.
āSure thing, kid.ā Arthur smiled warmly and walked to the caldron which held the potato soup.
(Disclaimer: Obviously none of this is canon. Just a cute little image I had of how Arthur welcomes John to camp/the gang.)
Should I write another RDR story like āPotata Soupā?
Yes
No
I want to write another one because I want to get back into writing. Plus, I love writing young Arthur and John stories š„ŗ
Arthur: *coughs horrendously, like hacking up a fucking lung*
John: Damn, Arthur, you got TB or something?
Arthur: TB? *holds up hand* Itās pronounced THC
(I was inspired by a convo between my bossā who sounds like Arthurā and my supervisorā who sounds like John. IāM NOT EVEN JOKING)

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Arthur: *losing argument with John* Well⦠uhhhhhh⦠you canāt swim. So⦠HA!
How I imagine John and Abigail meeting:
Abigail *eying Arthur across camp*
Arthur *smiles at her*
John *says something quietly to Arthur*
Arthur *smirks and nods while looking at Abigail*
Abigail *blushes*
Arthur *across camp*: MY BROTHER THINKS YOUāRE PRETTY!
I donāt know how to explain this but Micah Bell looks like if the worst texture known to existence was a person
i love how every red dead fan mutually agrees that john was rabid as a child, we didnāt even need to talk to each other, the greasy hair and loser personality told us everything we needed to know
Arthur: So help me God, we will tear apart anyone that messes with us
The gang: YEAH!
Sean: Yeah! Come Helen Highwater, whoever the lass is!

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Arthur: Weāre outlaws, of course we aināt bothered when you say the phrase āsave a horse ride a cowboyā
John: Iām an outlaw, of course Iām going to choke you out if spit on my boots
Arthur: Goddammit, John! Why do you have to result to violence?
Javier: Did you not threaten to break his arm if he touched your journal, amigo?
Arthur: ā¦That aināt how this works
Mr. Arthur Morgan would definitely be the type of older brother to tell John that he was found in a dumpster
Abigail: Ready for your haircut?
John: Who gets a haircut at a saloon? Silly girl.
Abigail: John⦠I said salon.
The molesā¦
On their cheeksā¦
The moles!
On their cheeks!
Hold onā¦
:)
Potata Soup (An RDR short story)
Arthur Morgan sighed as he looked at the young boy, cold, probably afraid and confused as he sat, curled up, in the tent at the camp. āGoddamit,ā the young man muttered as he stood up and grabbed a bowl off the makeshift table outside his own tent and walked to the small, ragged tent located in the corner of the camp.
āHey, there, kid.ā Arthur knelt down at the opening.
āLeave me alone,ā the boy muttered meekly, his knees tucked up to his chest as he hugged them tightly. He looked small, skinnyā too skinny, to be frank.
āThought you might be hungry. Brought ya some potata soup.ā He held the bowl in his hand, extending it toward him. āAināt nothinā special but itāll fill your belly.ā
āI aināt hungry. You best go on and git or youāll be real sorry, mister,ā the boy uttered with a slight tremble to his tone.
Arthur let out a huff and sat with his legs crossed at the tentās opening and set the bowl down in front of him, nudging it toward the child.
āI said I aināt hungry.ā The child looked back at him.
āAlright. I get it, you wanna be stubborn. Thatās fine but Iāll be damned if Iām gonna sit here and watch you starve, boy.ā With that, Arthur stood up and walked back toward his own tent, glancing back to see a pair of hands reach out and grab the bowl, pulling it toward him.
He smiled softly as the boy picked up the small wooden spoon and slowly lifted it to his chapped lips, taking a small taste of the broth before slurping down a few bites. āWoah, slow down there, kid. Youāll get a stomachache,ā Arthur blurted out uncontrollably as he walked back toward the tent the boy was in. āHardy eatinā for a lad that aināt hungry.ā He chuckled as the child wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt while Arthur once again knelt down.
āShut up, will ya?ā The kid muttered as he finished the soup, slurping the remains from the bowl.
āFeisty one,ā Arthur muttered. āWhatās your name?ā He asked.
āJ- John,ā the boy looked at him. āJohn Marston.ā
āNice to meet you, John.ā Arthur smiled in satisfaction, extending a hand out. āNameās Arthur Morgan.ā
āThis donāt mean nothinā, Mister Morgan. Iāll be gone come morninā.ā John laid the bowl off to his side.
āHate to hear that, son. Tough kid like you will do just fine surviving these harsh lands.ā Arthur looked at him sincerely.
āIāll be jusā fine.ā John looked at the ground and then at his hands, which laid lazily in his lap as Arthur stood back up to retire back to his tent. āHey, Arthur?ā John quipped out.
āYeah, John?ā Arthur looked down at him as John stood up.
āBefore you turn in for the night, mind gettinā me some more of that soup? Iām famished.ā John looked up at him with an innocent gaze.
āSure thing, kid.ā Arthur smiled warmly and walked to the caldron which held the potato soup.
(Disclaimer: Obviously none of this is canon. Just a cute little image I had of how Arthur welcomes John to camp/the gang.)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
I love hyper-fixating on a comforting movie/tv show/game and then turning it off one night to go to bed and forgetting to turn it back on, like, ever again
I canāt stop imagining about how 12 year oldJohn wouldāve been introduced to the gang⦠like,
Dutch: Hey, kids, come here! I got you a present!
Arthur: Dutch⦠thatās a child
Dutch: Heās your brother! :)
Arthur: YOU STOLE A CHILD
Meanwhile, John is like one of those nervous chihuahuas that just stand there and shake