#margaret rdr2

[byrnisonferret]

He's British, of course

This was one of the few side missions I completed on my first playthrough

[imaggots]

ayo… reverend swanson talks about his wife margaret and you know whos name was margaret?

THIS BITCH!! thats swansons wife 100% i wont take criticism

[strrwbrrryjam]

one thing homophobic gamer bros like to say to those who headcanon arthur was gay/bi or ship charthur is that "arthur was likely homophobic bc a lot of people were back then" and like. no??? he wasn't???

arthur meets margaret, the mistress of danger and his reaction is not anger, nor any sort of discomfort around his presence, he's honestly mostly confused and exasperated at his personality, as arthurs old and tired and margaret very well isn't. he isn't cruel to margaret at all and bares no judgement, he only really gets annoyed when margaret says he shouldn't give him the emerald because his dad wouldn't want him to.

he meets mr black and mr white, two men who have recently escaped from prison and watches their relationship change from hatred to love in a handful of meetings, he helps them go on to live a better life and when he figures out that mr black and mr white are in a relationship with one another, he advises them to go and find somewhere safe and secluded because "a lot of people don't like people like him," actively warn them against the type of people the gamer bros accuse him to be.

charles châtenay, comes to arthur while disguised as a woman and all he really is, is confused. charles asks him to help and protect him and arthur does. charles kisses arthur and the only thing he tells him is that "do not do that again," he doesn't yell, he doesn't shoot charles, and he doesn't even stop helping him, all he asks him is to not do that again. he's not even that annoyed, even though he would have been justified to be annoyed in this instance since he wasn't consenting to the kiss.

throughout all of this, there's no anger or discomfort to this, he's just- mostly confused, and once he gets past his confusion, he helps them anyway, even giving them advice and well wishes for them to be safe during this hateful time.

its like- no brad, arthur wasn't homophobic, you are though, and you don't get to hide your homophobia and general discomfort with queer people with a character who rockstar tells you, with a handful of examples, that he has no judgement and hatred towards people who are queer.

[synthsays]

I can't name a single happy love story from rdr2 no joke

Arthur and Mary ❌️

Hosea and Bessie ❌️

Dutch and Molly ❌️

John and Abigail ❌️

Kieran and Mary-Beth ❌️

Sadie and Jake ❌️

Reverend and Margaret ❌️

Karen and Sean ❌️

Lenny and Jenny ❌️

Dutch and Annabel ❌️

[cloctor-doodles]

I'm buggered~

He's British, of course

[meowdymista]

What if Gavin is Margaret from He's British, Of Course?

They're both British and we find both of them in/around Rhodes. "Gavin" doesnt exist as a character in the game folders... what if "Gavin" travelled to America with his buddy Nigel and then ran away one night to live his cross dressing dream of running a circus?

[secrescaryat]

arthur in that one stranger mission

[rdrshitsthatsomeoneaskedfor]

[could-be-calliope]

I hadn't realized how nice it would feel to watch my 1800s manly man cowboy protagonist gender a gnc person correctly right off the bat and judge her only for accidentally setting various African animals loose in the American countryside and not for being a baritone lady with an extravant moustache

[sheep-and-lykos]

Heya, I hope you're feeling better!!

If you're still taking a spooky monster prompt, I'd like to throw my hat into the ring.

I'm thinking RDR2 Arther Morgan x Mermaid!Siren Reader.

NSFW as in traditional Siren fashion they try to eat and will attack people (if you're cool with that obvs)

I'm thinking that the reader and a few other sirens in her group have been captured and used as a freakshow attraction in Van Horn. Dutch wants to steal them so he can make some money off them, etc. but doesn't realise how dangerous they are. VDL gang steals them anyway.

Arthur being his usual curious self, is drawn to one of them in particular (Reader) and starts to build a bond with her by whatever means necessary.

Can be sexual if you want to get freaky with mermaid anatomy or whatever.

Either way, whether you write this or not, wishing you a speedy recovery back to your usual self 💛

omfg you're so sweet! such a sweetie ❤️❤️ i'm doing so much better thank youu

You sneered at the outlines of the men before you, your nails scratching faint lines into the thick glass. Your tail thrashed in the water, kicking up the dirt that sat thick at the bottom. The water tasted odd, like metal had been rusting in it for years, it didn’t taste clean. It made your skin start to ache.

You missed the taste of the sea.

Even in your deepest of dreams, you could still taste the salt on your skin and smell the brine that pooled beneath your body. How long had it been since you and your friends were snatched up from the sea? Years?

You glared at the men who had their backs to you, making sure to avoid eye contact as they laughed and regaled at how much money they had made off of you all. You could still feel the eyes of what looked to be thousands of people staring at you from beyond the thick glass and murky water you were all kept in.

They always made sure to keep the lid on tight, lest another “accident” happens and you all drown and maim another one of their men.

They had made a stop for the night, settling in some little town riddled with filth if the water they had rehomed you in was any clue. They had stashed your tanks in a stable amongst the four-legged beasts they call horses. Your heart tugged; Some of them were in the same shit show you were in: Forced to perform for the masses because of how different you were from humans. At least they could taste fresh air and even fresher waters.

Your eyes remained pinned on the men before you, narrowing your eyes and wrinkling your nose when one would turn to look at you before laughing with his “pals” only for them all to erupt in laughter.

“Come away from there,” one of your friends called. “It’ll do you no good just staring at them like that.”

A bitter taste settled at the back of your throat as you finally let go of the glass.

Just as you turned to swim towards your friends, the stable doors suddenly were yanked open.

“Dutch, are ya sure ye know what yer doin’?” Arthur didn’t even look over to the other men to his side.

He drew his bandana over his nose and unholstered his revolver as the older man just chuckled.

“Arthur, my boy, think of how much money we’d be gettin’ from this! In no time, we’ll be off in T-”

“Arthur’s right,” Hosea piped up. Dutch shot him a look. “They are dangerous creatures. They’ll think we’re just like their captors. One wrong move and we’re all goners.”

“It’s too late to back out now.”

Dutch unholstered his own revolver and started towards the stable that shockingly wasn’t very guarded.

Arthur followed close behind, eyeing the carts holding dangerous wild animals who eyed them all like they were walking hunks of meat ripe for eating. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory of that damned lion for Margaret that nearly took him down for good. Arthur snuck around the carts with Lenny and John while Dutch, Hosea and Micah took to the front.

A few shots rang out before Arthur and the others raced towards the front doors, already seeing a few bodies on the floor while Dutch had the rest getting on their knees.

“What is it? Money? We can give ya money!” one of the men pleaded.

They were all dressed nicely, better than anyone he’s ever seen in Saint Denis. They had to be from somewhere like New York City with clothes like that; Rich silks that were getting dirty from kneeling on the grimy floorboards covered in horse dung and God knows what else.

“Although ‘m honored for the offer, you fellows have somethin’ else I’ve had my eye on for awhile now,” Dutch smirked.

“Take it! It’s yours! Just let us go!” another of the men pleaded.

“Where are you fellows keepin’ the sirens?”

All of their eyes widened at the question.

“Wh- You can’t! They’re our star attraction!”

Dutch cocked the revolver and pressed it against the man’s forehead, the poor bastard was sweating through his expensive linens to the point where he could smell that pompous aftershave and cologne from where he stood.

“I ain’t askin’ again, gentlemen. The sirens?”

“There’s a wagon there,” Micah sneered, motioning towards the back of the stable with his gun. “What’s in it?”

Just the look on Micah’s face made Arthur want to silence him. Hell, everything Micah did made him want to shoot him dead where he stood.

“Arthur, go check it out,” Dutch motioned to the wagon.

Arthur swallowed thickly but slowly peeled away from the rest of the group. He was careful to step towards the wagon, noticing right away on how huge it was and especially how odd-looking it was. It was the same maroon wood with gold accents and wheels locked into place, but instead of large iron bars to keep whatever is in, it was thick glass.

With a lot of scratches on the inside.

Arthur stepped closer, noticing how murky the water was and how it was pushed back into the darkest corner of the stable away from the horses. The water must have felt so cold and disgusting.

At first, he didn’t see anything in the large tank.

And then he saw multiple pairs of eyes cutting through the darkness. Various shades of colors, but the pair of yellow eyes in the front stuck out to him the most. They were judging him, eyeing him up on whether he was prey to them or a predator. He couldn’t blame them, especially after how long those poor things have been in captivity. It made his heart twist in his ribs.

Dutch had been following this entire thing since Blackwater. It was his next big thing besides all of the other “plans” he had in that odd head of his. He was going to steal the sirens from this traveling circus and pawn them off to the highest bidder.

Dutch came up behind Arthur with a lantern in hand and gun ready in the other. His eyes widened at the sight of multiple eyes glowing the in the murky water and raised the lantern to the glass.

The entire pack of them flinched away from the light, but he really only got a good look at the one in front with the yellow eyes. Their scales had started to lose their color so long ago, there was just a faint trace of blue in the dull scales. Overgrown claws that had been neglected, a long tail curled and twisting the water, a wide fin that had little tears at the ends. He could only imagine how the others looked.

It was cruel to keep them in such disgusting conditions.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Dutch gawked. “Let’s get ‘em outta here and back to camp.”

It was late at night when Arthur left the confines of his tent, staring at the tank wagon at the edge of camp and started towards it with a lit lantern in hand. He saw the bodies in the water all huddled together, clinging to the edges on the tank fast asleep. Except for you.

Upon feeling eyes on the tank, your own parted and stared Arthur down as he walked up, a fire lit under his ass and burned him with determination. He saw you tail thrash a bit in the water, your claws sank a bit into the lip of the tank, the gills on your throat flared. You were trying to intimidate him, to drive him away; Yet you didn’t use your voice to do so.

“Why are you here?” your eyes narrowed.

He mulled over his words, his eyes pinned to yours in a hypnotic trance.

“‘M sorry.” Your eyes widened just a bit, your grip on the edge of the tank lessened. “I know you all’ve been through a lot. Made out to be some monsters, gettin’ looked like yer freaks. It ain’t fair to you all.”

He doesn’t know how long the silence enveloped you both. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours; But you softened up and finally let go of your death grip on the tank and freely floated on the water’s surface.

“You’re not… afraid of me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

Arthur’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. The way your inhuman eyes searched his, the way the sun shimmered off of your dull scales. It made his stomach flutter in an odd way.

“‘M gonna get ya out of this mess.”

[markodragic]

it can be either because you love their mission(s) or because you love the character themselves!

[outofcontextreddead]

[reddeadreference]

He’s British, Of Course

-Click here to return to the index for Stranger Missions-

(Above: Finding Margret for the first time)

(Above: Sally Nash)

(Above: Margaret after getting the “Zebra” back)

(Above: Arthur enters the barn looking for a dog with a lion’s main)

(Above: The very real lion.)

(Above: the “Emerald” Margret rewards the protagonist with)

Journal Entry

Met a fella called Miss Margaret. An animal trainer and showman or show-woman. Mistress of Danger. Quite a character. Wants me to find some missing animals.

A while ago, I met an odd man dressed as a lady animal trainer. Are all Englishmen that weird I wonder? All his animals were as fake as the rest of his act. Until I was to find and retrieve a “real lion” from somewhere or other in Africa I thought was going to be another dog. But it was a real lion thing looked like it wanted me for its next meal.

After hunting a zebra that was a donkey and a tiger that was a cougar and another lion that

was just a dog - or I think that's right - I think

I've lost track of the whole thing, and an assistant that's a real woman and him a strange English maniac in a dress pretending to be all that he isn't. Remind yourself never to go on the stage.

The weird English guy gave me a pretty decent emerald as payment for my troubles. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

That emerald was about as real as the zebra and worth a whole lot less. Seems Miss Margaret made idiots out of all of us! What did I expect - a man who dealt in fake tigers gave out real gems?

[marc--chilton]

rdr2 is fun but Boy Am I Dumb