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Howdy! I go by either Platinum or Vaquero, but you can call me either. This blog is a digital journal of all things Red Dead Redemption.
I'm 24 years old and I'm a fan of RDR since August 2024. I write and draw a lot of stuff related to it. You can see the tags below to know what stuff I share.
>> John Marston, Fem daughter Reader, fluff, not proofread!
"When I grow up, I'm gonna marry Daddy!" you declared.
John stared at his little four year old daughter, eyes wide. You stood in front of him as he was cleaning his revolver under the shade of a tree, hands on your hips in imitation of your mother, Abigail.
"No, you ain't," John said in an amused chuckle. "You're gonna find a nice feller to marry someday. Someone better than your daddy."
"No!" you wailed despairingly, clutching his rolled sleeve and tugging it. "I want Daddy! I want to marry Daddy!"
John chuckled again and pulled you closer. Tears had welled up in the waterline, making your big eyes glossy. He sat you down on his lap and gently bounced his knee to soothe you.
"Look, Daddy's already married to Momma. I can't marry you. I promise you, one day, a nice, rich feller will come your way and he'll sweep you off your feet and love you better than me. You hear?" he reasoned, his voice soft but firm.
You curled against his chest, whining. He continued to polish his revolver, but his arms tightened around you just a fraction.
"But I like Daddy more than anyone else," You continued to insist, your voice softened from his firmness.
John paused. He wasn't sure whether this was normal for a daughter to say. He'd never grown up in a proper family to know.
He wondered if you, through your young eyes, looked at any relationship of love as a marriage.
"I know you do, kid," he assured you, "but Daddy hasn't been a good feller."
"But you are good!" you protested. "You love Momma, and Jack, and Rufus, and all our horsies, and our cows, and-and-" You paused to sniffle, "And you love me..."
John's eyes softened. Had he been too hard on himself? Too stuck in his violent past to see how much he'd been trying to be a good husband and father in the present?
"Yeah, I do love you all," he murmured, his voice trembling. He inhaled. "But look, I love your momma. I married her. I can't marry you, alright? I'm sorry."
You let out a loud sob and wailed, opening your arms towards him. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, letting you weep on his shoulder.
"There, there. Don't cry now, kid," he murmured, patting your back.
John felt a little bad that he had to be the first one to break his daughter's heart, but it had to happen. His arms tightened around her. You'd possibly see more rejections as you grew, and the thought of it made his chest twinge painfully. But that was just the stark reality of the world. The sooner you experienced it, the easier it would be to bear.
"When you grow up, I'll find you a nice feller. Make sure he loves you and treats you right. And if he tries to hurt you, I'm not gonna spare him." John promised, continuing to pat your back.
You sniffled. "If I marry someone else, you-you will not love me anymore," you said, wiping your tear stained cheeks with your little hands and rubbing them on your father's denim vest.
"No, that's not true. You're my little girl. I'll always love you, no matter what." John rubbed your back softly.
You whined softly and snuggled closer, wanting more of your father's warmth. He squeezed you gently, rocking you side to side. The last tears that blurred your vision spilled down your plump cheeks, and you closed your eyes.
Even if you couldn't marry him, this was just as nice, you supposed.
Oh, Arthur...
Heyo! This is my first post here! (I don't know how Tumblr works pls be kind to me)
Mayor's Party 1899
micah bell style exploration :] he's one of my favorite characters from rdr2 !! i'm planning to draw him with a couple diff characters as well, and hopefully fanart for a certain rdr2 fanfic *gasp*
this doodle spread is basically me trying to figure out how to incorporate characters who are over the age of 35 into my usual drawing habits
i canโt think about jack marston without nearly crying over just how sorry i feel for him. like, iโm sorry you were only four years old when the admittedly unstable support system you had fell apart. iโm sorry you didnโt have a real, permanent home until you were twelve, and iโm sorry you only got four years before that too was ripped away from you. iโm sorry you felt that you had to prove yourself otherwise your father would leave again like heโs done multiple times before. iโm sorry you felt so inferior you were unable to believe that your parents loved you so much and would have done anything for you. iโm sorry you had to pick up a gun and shoot at people at sixteen and kill a man for the first time at nineteen. iโm sorry you watched uncle die then watched your mother lose herself to grief over your fatherโs corpse, riddled with bullets in front of your home. iโm sorry you had to bury your mother only three years later. iโm sorry you lost your family and yourself and willingly threw your life away so young in the name of revenge no one wanted you to seek. iโm sorry you ended up all alone and grew up to be exactly the man your family did everything to save you from becoming. iโm so sorry jack marston.
