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#Arthur Morgan
twola · 2 days
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Arthur definitely grips the headboard
Somehow you always had known he could be like this. One doesn’t get the reputation that he does by handing out flowers and being gentle.
Deep down, you had also known that this side of him simmered beneath the surface. Though he has been nothing but a gentleman to you through this courtship, or whatever you’d call it, you knew there would be a moment when he snaps, taut like a rope.
The pillow mercifully muffles your hoarse voice, strung out and breathless as you are completely under his control, pressed down into the mattress as if you were to melt into it.
Thoroughly used and fucked out, your moans and cries have become guttural as you smother them by shoving your face into the pillow, having lost your fight with gravity long ago.
Although you can do nothing more than accept, he on the other hand is still full of energy he is taking out on you. Your arms have gone useless, unable to hold you up for some time now. Having fallen forward into the pillow, your back is arched and hips held up by one of his large hands.
“Tha’s it,” he grunts above you, throwing his hips into yours, mercilessly pumping his cock into your cunt. You groan again into the pillow as he slams into you hard.
“Take it, fuck - take it,” he hisses as he leans further over you, one of his hands leaving your hips and clutching at the headboard of the bed. It’s been banging against the wall for the last several minutes, surely alerting the other guests of the hotel what you were up to.
You mewl piteously. You won’t be able to ride a horse for a week at this point. Your cunt is sopping wet as he pounds into you, bruises from his fingers already blooming across your skin. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve come; from the second he shut the door behind you in this hotel room, he’s been on you like a man possessed.
Maybe he’s riding the high of the score. Maybe it’s taking frustration out.
“Ngh, Arth- agh - Arthur-”
Hearing his name muffled into the pillow seems to drive him wild, clenching your hips with one hand and pressing you down, down into the mattress as his cock hits spots so deep inside you you swear you’re going to pass out.
“Fuck, you’re such a good girl-” he pants as his breakneck pace begins to falter, leaning heavily on the headboard, his knuckles white from gripping it.
“Gonna fill you up, g-gonna-”
His babbling devolves into a low moan as he slams his hips down into yours one final time. He remains still for a moment, breathing heavily as he finds his release deep into your waiting cunt.
Arthur groans as he pulls out, his cock near dripping with his spend and your slick. He flops down next to you in the bed as you slowly roll onto your side.
He breathes out through his nose, and chuckles softly as he turns his head toward you, “Well that was different there, darl-”
“Shit, shit -” his satisfied grin drops as he sees your tear- streaked face, “Oh, oh honey - I didn’t - shit.”
He draws you into his embrace, cupping your cheek as his brow furrows, you can see in his eyes the guilt overtaking him.
“ M’okay-”
“Jesus, what a bastard I am-”
“Arthur-” You press your hand against his sweat-dotted sternum, “I’m fine. Seriously. Maybe just gonna a bit sore riding.”
He clenches his jaw, obviously not thrilled with your answer.
“Christ, I’m sorry. Last thing I ever want to do is hurt-”
You cut him off by surging forward and pressing your lips to his, pressing your tongue inside, throwing your leg over his hip to plaster yourself against him.
He’s breathless by the time you pull away, one arm tight around your waist.
You smile, reaching up and brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead.
“Just warn a girl next time, Mister Morgan.”
His cheeks blaze red for a moment before you lean in and kiss him again.
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simp4frogs · 2 days
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we can’t change what’s done, we can only move on
cross stitch of arthur morgan <3
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arthursfuckinghat · 2 days
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"Have you ever robbed a stagecoach?"
"Nooo.. never.."
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garfieldblunt · 3 days
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Okay but the Van der Linde Gang playing Uno while drunk would be more than just funny.
Sean is yelling in his thick Irish accent
Javier is shouting at Sean in Spanish
The two of them think they are speaking the same language
Arthur is quietly placing down a card and keeps saying “Uno” after he places a card
Bill is upset because he never has the right color
Kieran is sitting there with 30 cards in his hands
John doesn’t know how to play and is trying to play poker with his cards (doesn’t know how to play poker either)
Dutch keeps telling himself he has a plan to get rid of his cards
Micah some how has nothing but uno reverse cards
Charles won a long time ago but everyone was too drunk to notice
Hosea is sipping his red wine and watching the chaos
I just think this is exactly how it would play out.
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we saved Sean!
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hihomeghere · 1 day
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Dreams | Arthur Morgan/Reader
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Word Count : 1.1k Summary : Arthur starts having dreams of starting a family with you Warnings/tags : Cursing, fluff, mention of infidelity, just Arthur being a sweet guy <3
He knows he shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t be having these thoughts, because all they are just dreams. They’re never going to become a reality. Not when they’re constantly on the move, running from place to place. He sees the way it affects Jack, poor kid, not knowing what the hell is going on. And his daddy doesn’t exactly help him understand. 
He can’t even say he would be a better father, he wasn’t before. 
Hell you two ain’t even married yet, and he’s not that much of a fool. Not anymore. His regret for not marrying Eliza weighs heavily on him most days, even if he didn’t love her in that way. Now you on the other hand, he loves you more than anything. More than this stupid gang, more than life itself. He would happily lay down his life if he knew you would be happy, safe. 
When these thoughts enter his head, he can’t say. His days sort of blend together, making it hard to pinpoint. Although seeing you interact with Jack doesn’t help. 
You are so sweet, so motherly, hell you even mother the younger folks in the gang. Soft touches, kind words, but internally strong. You have all the qualities he finds attractive in a woman. Somehow you fell for him just as hard as he fell for you. 
But he ain’t a fool, he knows this ain’t the right time or place. So instead he writes down all these dreams in his journal, his safe place. The place where he can say anything without being judged. He dreams of little girls, he didn’t know how to interact with Isaac. Too afraid of being his own father. Girls seem less daunting, and a little you would be perfect. He already has one angel, what’s one more?
He comes up with the name while north of Brandywine Drop. The bright purple flowers caught his eye just off the trail.
Violet.
Violet Beatrice Morgan.
His heart sings, scribbling the name down in the margins of his journal. He finds himself writing VM in his journal, smiling foolishly to himself. It’s beautiful, his precious flower. 
It’s not like you meant to snoop. You were looking for Arthur, since he was nowhere to be found. You entered his tent, which in reality wasn’t much of a tent at all, finding his journal open. You walked over to it, looking over the worn page. There were the normal doodles he drew, along with his flowing hand writing. But one thing stood out to you, a pair of initials circled by hearts. VM.
You furrowed your brows, you couldn’t think of anyone you knew with the initials VM. Those definitely weren’t your initials either. 
With your curiosity peaked you flipped through a couple more pages. VM was written everywhere, along with those damn little hearts. 
You felt that green little monster grow inside you the further you looked into his journal. Biting your cheek so hard you could taste blood. It did nothing to quench the fire inside of you. 
“Darlin?” Arthur called walking into the so-called tent. You dropped the journal back onto the table, turning to face him. “There you are.” He grinned walking towards you.
“Here I am.” You said forcing a smile.
“Hosea said you were looking for me.” He said softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "Anything you need?”
“Must have forgot.” You said with a noncommittal shrug, “I ought to get back to work.” You nod walking past him. Arthur furrowed his brow at your attitude. Did he say something to offend you?
Then his eyes fall onto his open journal. His stomach drops at the sight. Jesus, you saw. You saw all of it. You were probably thinking the worst, seeing the initial surrounded by hearts. How was he gonna fix this?
You stomped off to the edge of camp, trying to wrack your brain as to who this VM could be. And why was Arthur drawing hearts beside the initials? Maybe you had this all wrong, Arthur would never do anything to hurt you. He was a good man, a man you could trust. Wasn't he?
“Y/n!” He called trailing behind you, a crestfallen expression on his face. You stopped at the tree lining, biting your lip as you turned to face him. “I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.
“I-“ He sighed looking down, pinching the bridge of his nose as he let out a low curse. 
“Who is she?” You asked clenching your jaw. He furrowed his brows looking up at you.
“What?” He asked, his hands settling on his hips.
“VM, the girl you keep drawing hearts around. Who is she?” You were blunt, something he loved so much. Always telling it like it is, never leaving him to guess your feelings. A small smile spread on his face, which only made you more mad. “Seriously, you think this is funny?” You hissed, taking a step towards him. Arthur only had one choice, to tell you the truth. 
“Violet.” He said softly, reaching for you. “Violet Morgan.” You let him wrap his hand around your forearm, pulling you close to his chest.
“Who is Violet Morgan?” You asked, swallowing thickly. He sighed, looking off to the side, wetting his lips.
“She’s uh-“ He shook his head, a nervous smile on his lips. “She’s not exactly real, not yet at least.” He said. 
You shook your head, brows knitted together, “Not real? The hell you mean, not real?”
“I-“ He rubbed the back of his neck looking down, “It’s uh- shit.”
“Spit it out Morgan.” You huff throwing your arms up. 
“I thought of a name,” He explained, “A name for a girl if we- if we have one some day.” He said with a shrug, his cheeks flushed, almost as though he had been in a scuffle. 
Oh.
If we have one some day. 
“Oh Arthur.” You said softly, a smile spreading across your face. Feeling suddenly very foolish for doubting your man. “That's so sweet.” You took a step forward, tilting his face up to look at you. 
“Yeah?” He asked, looping his fingers in his gun belt. 
“Yeah.” You repeated, nodding. “Jesus you had me scared you were gonna tell me you found someone else.” You chuckled, shaking your head.
“Never. There ain’t no one else in this goddamn world that could replace you.” He said his hand reached up to cup your face. “You’re uh- you’re it for me darlin.” His bright blue eyes peered into yours, love and affection pouring out in his expression. “When we have our girl.” You said brushing away a stray strand of honey brown hair, “Violet will be a perfect name.” He grinned, wrapping a hand around your waist.
“Guess it’s settled then.” He said as he leaned down to press his lips against yours.
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seirrro · 1 day
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I hope he has found peace.
(AAAAAAAAAAAAA, who devoured the quality, damn it???)
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hiveschives · 16 hours
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You won the fight already, surely that's enough?
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strrwbrrryjam · 3 days
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what's the point of liking antagonists and villains if you're just going to justify and ignore every act of antagonism and villainy - can people please learn to be more comfortable liking characters who aren't good without feeling this incessant need to change them.
like be fucking for real, be an apologist but at least acknowledge that they did all that without trying to justify their behaviour.
i'm so tired of people finding excuses for dutch and micah (even arthur, too). it's never "dutch took advantage of a fucking genocide because he's a bad person" or "dutch abused his girlfriend because he's a bad person" it's always "dutch did these things because he's mentally ill/bonked his head".
by attributing his actions solely to mental illness, you're inadvertently stigmatizing mental health issues rather than addressing the complexities of his behaviour.
like I won't deny he is mentally ill, nor will I deny that his mental state is clearly deteriorating over the course of the game but he didn't do these things and more because he's mentally ill, he did this because he's a bad person.
the head injury theory also completely ignores the fact that he was already acting erratic earlier in the story, far back into chapter two.
i mean, he shot an innocent woman during the blackwater massacre for no apparent reason, and that's where I would argue he is the most stable before he injured his head in chapter four.
fortunately for micah, there isn't much people use to justify his behaviour, mostly because what he does is downright deplorable, but the excuses for him are just as stupid, whether linking to his upbringing (ignoring the fact that there are people like lenny, tilly, charles, sean, kieran and even arthur who had an incredibly similar childhood to micah who are all marginally better people than micah) or the fact that when he turned the gang in 'for the greater good' when no, he did it because he was cruel and greedy and he continued to be an outlaw where he ended up murdering a child in cold blood.
even arthur, like I've talked a length about the good arthur does and how good of a man I believe him to be, but he still abandoned his family due to his loyalty for the gang, he still beat a sick man closer to his death, he still terrorised and robbed and injured and killed innocent people and those acts are unforgivable.
people have got to learn how to like nuanced characters without stripping them of their complexity because otherwise, then that is the point.
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the-karma-cafe · 2 days
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arthur morgan x reader ("alllll my moneh")
(also posted on ao3 under same username)
based on Arthur's silly drunk line "I lost allllll my money... can I ... have *yours* laydey ?" yes arthur my babygirl you can have all of it
also fun hannibal reference cause i llove
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“Bye Ernie!” I called over my shoulder. The man behind the bar smiled and waved as I left the saloon, the doors swinging shut behind me. I brushed my hands off on my dress and stepped down the first couple of steps, eager to head home and away from the drunkards of Valentine. The job was fun, sure, but more often than not-
“I lost allll my money...” A sad voice called out to me from the street.
I glanced over, confused. The man in the dirt street stared at me through unfocused eyes, his stance crumpled and wobbly. He seemed to be searching for something to lean on.
“Can…” he hiccuped, “Can I have yours… laadyy?” his southern drawl lengthened the word.
Despite having dealt with drunk men all evening, I smiled, tilting my head to the side. “You alright sweetie?” He looked like a lost puppy, and, unlike the other patrons of the saloon, he wasn’t saying anything untoward.
The man gave a dopey grin upon hearing my voice, stumbling forward. “M’yeah.” 
I paused, glancing around the street. He didn’t seem to have any buddies with him. I stepped towards him, my hands out and ready to catch him if he suddenly pitched forward. “Hope you don’t mind my sayin’, but you don’t look it.” I pursed my lips. “Where’re your friends, baby?” 
He shrugged and almost fell into me before catching himself a foot away. “Camp.” 
I furrowed my brow in worry. I couldn’t in good conscience let this poor drunken fool wander around the street at night—he was sure to get robbed. “You wanna tell me where that is so we can get you home, cowboy?” I gently touched his arm and he leaned towards the feeling, eyes closing and opening at random intervals. He nodded mutely. 
I went to guide him over to my horse before he wobbled out of my light hold and back into the street, shaking his head. “No! Nooo.... No I don’ wanna go to camp.”
I sighed. “You’ve gotta go somewhere, darlin’.” 
He tried to focus his eyes on my form. “Why you..” he shook his head, planting his feet. “Why d’you care?”
I gave him a pitying look. “I don’t know, mister, but just let me help.” I searched around the street, my eyes lighting on the hotel. I looked back at him, hoping my expression was as comforting and gentle as possible. “You want a room in the hotel instead?”
He eyed me for a beat, suspicious, before nodding and humming in acquiescence.
I held out my hand to stabilize him and he grabbed it instead. I blinked down at our intertwined hands. Not exactly what I had intended, but not… unwelcome. He was closer now, and I could see that he wasn’t like the drunkards I was used to. Much more handsome, and so far, much nicer as well. 
Before he could question why we hadn’t started moving, I guided him towards the hotel, fortunately only a couple doors down, and helped him up the steps and inside. 
The receptionist welcomed us in, noting our joined hands. He smiled knowingly. “Not too loud, now.” He joked. I flushed, stammering out an excuse about how that was not what it was like at all, before paying for and receiving a room key. 
The man with me kept his eyes on me the whole way up the stairs, making no move to help me get him up there. I huffed. He wasn’t a small man. 
We reached the top of the stairs and I dragged him into his room, closing the door behind us. “Alright, mister, let’s get you situated.” His weight was fully on my side and I had to remove my hand from his grip (notably difficult) and wrap my arm around him to keep him upright. I grunted, working my way towards the bed.
He turned and I felt a cool rush of air on my head. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you- Are you sniffing me??” 
He coughed, whipping his head away. “D’fficult to avoid.”
I chuckled good-naturedly. “Hope it was everything you dreamed of.”
I pushed him onto the bed and he flopped over, immediately snuggling into it. I straightened up and exhaled, looking down at him. He looked… cute, like this. He was almost like a child, fisting the blankets and tucking his legs up near his torso. I shook my head, breaking that line of thought. This was silly.
Good deed for the day done, I placed the key on his nightstand and turned to leave. 
“Wait!” A warm weight held my wrist. I turned back to find him looking up at me from the edge of the bed with the sweetest pair of puppy dog eyes I’d ever seen. “Please stay.” He mumbled, like he didn’t want to say it, and definitely would not have if he hadn’t been in such a state. 
I tore my eyes away, looking at the ground. I didn’t know this man. It was enough of a risk just to take him up here—it was even more to stay and sleep here. 
His grip loosened, sensing my indecision. “I understand.” he nodded, not looking at me. “‘M scary.” 
My heart warmed. He was so cute. I reached out and cupped his cheek, guiding him to look at me. He leaned into my hand, eyes closed. “You are so sweet.” I cooed, brushing my thumb back and forth. 
He snorted, eyes opening. “‘M not.” His gaze wandered over my face. Heat rose to my cheeks, not expecting his eyes to hold such warmth and reverence in them. He reached out, his hand aiming for my face but falling and holding my arm instead. His palm was warm. “Yer gorgeous.” The heat in my cheeks flared, painting them a bright red. 
I knew I shouldn’t. 
But he was so sweet... despite his burly appearance, he seemed like he couldn’t hurt a fly.
I sighed and moved my hand from his cheek to run through his hair. He hummed happily, his head nodding forward slightly. “You want me to stay?” He looked up, eyes hopeful.
“Yes.” he breathed. His hand dragged down my arm, shifting and stopping at my hip. My breath hitched. “Please?”
I ignored the warmth seeping into my body from my hip, smiling at him kindly. “How could I say no to that face?” My hand at his neck brought his head closer to me. I heard him hiccup. I pecked the top of his head and ruffled his hair, pushing away from him. 
His hand fell from me limply, his eyes never leaving me as I rounded the bed, shedding my bag and shoes. I contemplated taking off my dress. I had undergarments on but… no, I’d be fine sleeping in my dress. I crawled into the other side of the bed, heaving an exhausted sigh at finally being able to lay down. 
It was quiet in the room, for a couple of minutes. I faced the ceiling, but felt his gaze on me. I turned. His face still held that reverent look. I blushed, unable to fight the smile twisting my lips. “You should get some sleep, sweetheart. That headache when you wake up’ll kill.”
He nodded, slumping over onto his side, facing me. I mirrored his posture, facing him. His eyes wandered all over, but never strayed from my face, despite this being one of my lower-cut dresses. My heart fluttered.  “What’s your name?” I whispered.
His face twitched. “Arthur.”
“Like the king?”
Arthur huffed a laugh. “What’s your name?” He asked instead, just as quiet. I told him. He smiled dreamily. “’S pretty. Suits you.” 
“Thank you, Arthur.” His smile grew hearing his name. “Though I can’t say you’re very kingly presently.” I teased.
He didn’t answer, instead reaching out, brushing hair from my face. I faltered, flustered at how gentle he was. Did he even hear me? His gaze dropped to my lips. “Can I kiss you?” 
I blinked in surprise, searching his face. He pulled his hand back, dragging it over his face and groaning. “Ohh, I’m a fool.” He rolled onto his back, covering his eyes with his hand. 
I wanted to kiss him. I was surprising myself left and right today.
I reached out and touched his shoulder, pushing myself up onto my elbow. He shifted his hand to look at me with one eye. I forced myself to hold his gaze, feeling silly. “You can, Arthur, if you’d like.” 
Arthur dropped his hand. “Would you like?” I nodded.
He moved slowly, like he didn’t want to scare me off. He turned, moving his hand to cup my cheek. I tilted my head up, feeling my stomach flip nervously. He stopped, lips brushing against mine. 
Slowly, I pressed into them.
He groaned into my mouth, his hand moving towards my neck to bring me closer. I sighed happily, moving my hand to his chest. I wanted to explore further, feeling him up and down, but kept myself in check. Kissing was one thing, but... I didn’t want him to do something he would regret. He moved against me, trying to get impossibly closer.
I internally scolded myself. No further than this. I softly, regretfully, pushed against his chest, parting from him. He whimpered at the loss of contact, looking at me with sad eyes. I shook my head. "You're drunk, Arthur."
He frowned. "So?" His hand slid down from my neck, rubbing against my waist. He tugged a little, experimentally. His hand felt hot on my side, pressing me into the mattress. 
I bit my lip. "'S not right, cowboy, you know that." I poked his chest weakly. "If it was me you found out on the street like that, you wouldn't." 
He avoided my gaze. "Wouldn't I?"
"I don't know." I whispered, smoothing my hand over his chest. "I don't think you would, though." I didn't know why I was so sure. There was something about him.
He grunted, pushing into me and nuzzling his head into my neck. I made a noise of surprise, falling onto my back. "You don' know me." His lips tickled my neck as he spoke. 
I smiled, reaching my hands up to tangle in his hair. No, I did not know him, but I sure wanted to after tonight. He relaxed against my touch, almost crushing me under his weight. I didn't mind. I kissed his head, smoothing my hand down to rub circles on his back. Within minutes he was passed out, snoring softly. 
I debated leaving, but he had wormed his arms around me, snuggled in to my chest so cutely that I couldn't. I sighed, shifting my head on the pillow. The hotel was closer to the saloon than my house, anyway. This just made it easier to clock in come morning. (A flimsy excuse, but enough.)
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lvxybby · 2 days
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❤❤❤
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sweeetestcurse · 2 days
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Arthur Morgan Looking Cute As Hell 42/??
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brujahinaskirt · 2 days
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you guys ever think about the possibility that john abandoned abigail & jack because he knew he couldn't do it, knew arthur would step in, and knew that arthur would do a better job of being a person they deserve. just—violently exiting the overwhelming situation because you don't fit into it, can't imagine a you who does fit into it, are not willing to contort yourself in order to try (and fail). so the best thing you can do for everyone (or so you tell yourself) is to remove yourself, to erase yourself without a goodbye, so your absence (and a shared resentment of you by the people who love/d you) tears a hole that a better-fitting man will fill
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arthursfuckinghat · 3 days
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Do. Do you. Do you ever think about John reading Arthur's journal. Do you ever think about it. Do you think about John reading all the things Arthur never spoke about. Do you think about John holding the last months of Arthur's life in journal form. Do you think about John learning his brother's secrets. Do you think about it.
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chardee-kelly · 2 days
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Rdr2 charcoal animation
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papaue00 · 2 days
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MY PC SHORT CIRCUITED AND DIED BUT IT'S FIXED SO NOW I CAN PLAY WITH MY BOAH AGAIN I MISS HIM
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