[ watch ] ― do they like to watch their partner masturbating or having sex with someone else? do they like to be watched? (for John)
s.exual hc meme // @pagetreader
I'm assuming this is for Mr. Marston and not Blythcoe xD
John's funny bc his preferences depend on his partner. If any of this was within the John/Abigail context, he honestly wouldn't be interested. This has more to do with Abigail's temperment; the woman loves to emasculate him so this would just add fuel to her fire.
HOWEVER in the John/Clara context 😏 hrrgggggg.
So yeah basically for ships with anyone besides Abigail xD yeah he'd be into it.
As much as I'm inclined to say he wouldn't want to see his partner sleep with someone else, again, it depends on context. If he was in a du.bcon relationship with a harlot and he watched her with another client, he honestly might be into that???? A lot more factors would be in play obviously, but you get the gist.
John wouldn't want his partner to see him sleep with anyone else tho. He would only be into his partner watching him get off, and even then, he'd feel weird about it if the two of them weren't both getting off at the same time.
Did you see JOHN MARSTON from RED DEAD REDEMPTION walking around Limbo? The CISMALE looks like SKEET ULRICH, and is FIFTY ONE years old. I’ve heard he can be LOYAL & RESOURCEFUL but also SHORT-SIGHTED & IMPULSIVE. When I think of them I think of FACIAL SCARS, A RELUCTANT GUNSLINGER, AND A WOLF STALKING ITS PREY. They’ve been here WITH their memories as a DETECTIVE at LCPD for THIRTEEN YEARS. I heard they’re still trying to figure out how they ended up in Limbo.
so, a quick rundown for anyone unfamiliar with the character, then a brief summary of that rundown, some stuff about his new life, then some little tidbit bullet points. spoilers for rdr 1&2, in case anyone hasn’t played them yet and wants to.
Born south of Chicago in 1873, his father was blinded in a bar fight when he was a child and died later when he was eight. His mother was a prostitute that died giving birth to him.
John killed a man at 11 years old, though he said it wasn’t his fault. A year later he was caught stealing from homesteaders in southern Illinois and they were going to hang him when a man named Dutch van der Linde intervened and took him in. John joined Dutch’s gang.
It took a long time but eventually when Dutch starts going crazy there’s only a few people who are really looking out for John, one of which is Arthur who sacrifices himself so he can run away with his wife Abigail and their son Jack to hopefully have a good, normal life.
They live on the run for a while until Abigail leaves him and John realizes he needs to settle down, so he takes out a loan with the bank to buy a plot of land and with the help of some friends, builds a house and a ranch to make Abigail come back and show her he’s committed to a peaceful life with her. That’s until Sadie, a friend that was in Dutch’s gang returns with news of finding the man, Micah, who killed Arthur and was responsible for poisoning Dutch’s mind.
After John kills Micah and gets the money from an old job that went sour, that encourages the federal government to resume the search for the remnants of Dutch’s gang, taking Abigail & Jack and forcing John to hunt down the rest of the gang if he ever wants to see them again.
John confronts Bill Williamson, his first target at an old abandoned military fort where Bill shoots him and leaves him to die outside the fort. He’s found by a woman named Bonnie McFarlane and her ranch hand Amos. After she treats his wounds and gives him room and board, he works off his debt to her at her ranch, and resumes his mission to take down Bill Williamson, Javier Esquella, and Dutch van der Linde.
It’s a long road, but eventually after completing his mission, John is reunited with Abigail and Jack, and life seemingly goes back to normal. That is, until the ranch is stormed by countless government agents. Betrayed and lied to, John tries to fight but after seeing a long time friend shot, he realizes it’s pointless and helps his wife and son to the barn so they can get a horse and make a run for it, promising he’ll be right behind them. Then, when it’s only him left, he walks through the barn doors to be relentlessly shot and killed by the dozens of government agents still standing.
if ya don’t wanna read all that, i don’t blame you lol. basically: john was an outlaw in a gang, eventually the group fell apart, his best friend died, mentor betrayed him, and he had a wife and kid to think about and protect so he tried to get out of that life and make an honest living under a false identity. that didn’t last long because federal agents eventually found him, kidnapped his wife and child, and forced him to take down the last living members of the old gang. when he finally completed his task he was supposed to be able to get back to his honest life, but they betrayed him and stormed his house, killing him after a dramatic last stand — or so he thought.
arrived in limbo completely healed up. even the deep scars he had on his face from being attacked by wolves back in the day were only faintly noticeable.
life in limbo was so far removed from anything he ever would have imagined, with all the bright lights, skyscrapers, and technology... it was a brand new world for the old gunslinger, and he was admittedly very slow to adapt.
didn’t make many new friends or have much direction early on, but there was this one woman he befriended that helped him understand the world, but the hardest thing about this new life was not having his son or his wife there with him. it took a long time for him to come to terms with the idea he might never see them again, and during that time he and his new friend had developed mutual feelings for each other. it took years, but she taught him it was okay to love again. until of course, she up and disappeared one day without a trace.
he did what he could to find her but despite some impressive detective work on his part, he never learned what happened to her. he did however, find a new calling. something he was good at. something to pass the time. so he spent the next few years working until he could become a detective --- but this time, on the “right” side of the law.
his new favorite food is burritos, especially vending machine burritos. that’s mind-blowing to him.
truly amazed by all the technology and the internet. he’s done his best to assimilate but he’s still not very savvy with any of it. trying to video call him is like trying to facetime your grandma.
doesn’t know whether he’s captivated or embarrassed by old westerns. maybe a bit of both.
appreciates yoga pants, crop tops, and the like way more than he’ll admit.
pretty knowledgeable these days, honestly. it was difficult but he did manage to complete his education and even spends a lot of his free time reading books now.
still has all of arthur’s old belongings, and believe it or not, he still wears his hat on occasion, though he doesn’t carry his or arthur’s satchels anymore. he hopes to see arthur again someday and return his stuff to its rightful owner.
he does tend to wear gamblers hats and the like still, but he’s also integrated baseball caps into his wardrobe.
misses horse riding so fucking much.
has gotten much better at illustrating and writing, though he journals much less often these days.
still has his deadeye and has unfortunately had to use it on a few occasions.
took a shotgun blast to the leg a couple years back that completely shattered his bones, so the docs replaced it with a completely titanium leg and hip (under a skin coating of course). good ol’ 2080. he might be in better condition now than he ever was in his old life.
TITLE: Out of Road
PAIRING: It’s pretty general with just mentions of previous canon relationships.
REQUEST: I’m the secret santa for @daintykeith for the fandom’s @rdr-secret-santa
BLURB: This is based off the request for a 50s biker au for the Van der Lindes.
WARNINGS: Mild angst and bickering, some smoking.
NOTE: Hey! Happy Holidays! I hope this is an enjoyable read and that it touches a bit on the au idea you had. The 1950s is not an era I’m completely familiar in writing in but hopefully the vibe is there. lol
“You pullin’ my leg?”
The question escaped around a barely contained sigh, the weight of the day settling about his shoulders and in his legs even long before it was considered over. Arthur already knew that he would be sent off on some goose chase when he wandered back to the warehouse, yet he hadn’t expected it to be so soon.
Dutch’s expression was impassive, yet there was a knowing look in his eye. The previous work Arthur had been out to do wasn’t a secret to him, nor most of the other members of the gang. Collecting from the debtors always put him in a rough mood, the task weighing on Arthur’s mind when he would return back with the money he was able to get. It was always some unfortunate souls, tucked away into the rougher parts of the city.
Yet, he couldn’t seem to escape it.
“It’s nothin’,” Dutch stated after a moment, “I know you don’t want to be doin’ this, but you’re the best I got to be dealin’ with this right now.”
“This is the third time in two months Marston’s bike has caused issues, don’t know why the bastard’s holdin’ onto the old thing.”
“You’re goin’ to give up Boadicea?” Dutch challenged, causing Arthur to press his lips into a thin line before tossing a hand up in defeat, albeit begrudgingly.
“What’s wrong with it this time?” he asked, crossing his arms across his leather jacket as Dutch shrugged.
“Just said it’s broke again. He ain’t too far from here, might be worth seein’ what you can do.”
“...Fine, but it’s the last thing I’m doin’ today.”
“Thank you, son.”
***
His breath left him in a somewhat wheezing sigh, the adrenaline having long since left his body when he had escaped those Irish bastards. Something about some bikes Dutch stole--something John knew was left well in the past, yet there they were. Old Boy was as good as gone, he figured. Blown a tire, dented and gave a final sputter a while ago before leaving John to wander off to find a damn payphone. He’d just said something about the bike breaking down, as much as he knew it was more than that.
Dutch knew the O’Driscolls were wandering around, but he figured he had it under control. Considering he had no idea what the local law enforcement was like in the current city, it wasn’t worth stirring up paranoia in Dutch.
There was no way they knew where they were hiding out, anyway.
The phone call had been a while ago, however, John standing beside his broken bike as he tried to avoid curious glances and swallowed down the metallic taste in his mouth that at least was fading. Though, his face hurt something bad and he knew the hits that landed would leave a couple nasty bruises.
Yet, he couldn’t help the bitterness that sat in his chest about this whole ordeal, taking a drag from a cigarette as he waited for someone from the gang to come find him.
It wasn’t long, however, before he saw a familiar bike and rider. The sight pulled a small sigh out of his nose, partly in relief at the idea of finally being free from the heat of the day and out of annoyance on who ended up coming to his rescue.
Arthur didn’t seem too pleased, a familiar tightness to his brow as he rolled his bike to a stop and cut the engine. Yet, upon seeing the state of John’s face, there was a subtle shift to his expression--so, he could show concern. That was news to John. At least, when it came to him.
“The hell happened?” he asked once he came to a stand before him, John letting out a huff.
“I got jumped,” he replied, “You got a smoke?”
“Jumped?”
“We got O’Driscolls,” John stated, watching as Arthur took a step back to run a hand across his face. “Didn’t give them any reason to find us, but they certainly weren’t pleased to see me.”
“I thought we shook those bastards a couple states ago,” Arthur commented, seeming to remember John’s question as he started to dig around in his pockets.
“We ever really free of much these days?” John asked, taking the offered cigarette from Arthur’s pack while the other man took out one of his own.
“We’re supposed to be…” Arthur muttered around the cigarette hanging from his lips, lighting it up before offering the match out toward John to light his own. “So, where’s this bike?”
“‘Round the corner,” John said after taking a drag, jabbing behind himself with a thumb.
Arthur let out a small sigh from his nose, moving around the side of the building to where the familiar old bike was sat. Immediately, he took in the state of it--there was certainly nothing he could do to fix it by himself. It was hard not to snap at him, lips pressed together as he glanced back toward where John was standing as he moved to lean against the side of the building.
“Thought you said it was just broken down?” Arthur asked, gesturing toward the bike. “You’d be lucky if someone took pity and picked it apart for spare parts.”
“I’m doin’ fine, by the way,” John commented, “Just in case you were concerned, nearly wrecked Old Boy in tryin’ to get outta there.”
“You didn’t bother to inform Dutch that O’Driscolls were hangin’ about?”
“Thought Dutch had some big plans for this city, didn’t feel the need to stir up paranoia if all they know is that I’m around,” John stated, “At least, if the law doesn’t chase us out again.”
“Eh, you know these big city cops are,” Arthur replied, bending down to inspect the busted up bike, “Could probably get them to look away with some quick cash and a good bottle of brandy.”
“Yeah, certainly got the last city to look away. Didn’t have to cross state lines or nothin’.”
“You got some issues with how Dutch’s runnin’ things, you can take it up with him. Probably will actually listen to you, much as you did leave us out to dry.”
“You ever gonna let that go?” John asked, pushing himself off the wall somewhat to approach him more. “Ain’t I made up for that enough by now?”
“I dunno, Abigail let you see Jack yet?”
“Oh, don’t you start with that--I’m dealin’ with it. Like you can talk. When’s the last time you talked with Mary? What about that woman and kid you left?”
“Marston…” The warning in Arthur’s voice was hard to miss, if the hard stare he gave him from where he was crouched near the bike didn’t say it enough.
“The hell’s eatin’ you today, anyway?” John asked, crossing his arms. Despite the tension of brushing against rough subjects left, Arthur seemed to deflate some as he shook his head.
“Runnin’ around doin’ things I don’t have to,” he stated, giving him a pointed look but let out a small sigh as he rose to his feet. “I don’t know why we keep botherin’ people who we got no business terrorizin’.”
“You could always just get Strauss to do his own dirty work,” John stated, picking up on what Arthur was talking about--explained a lot, considering he seemed fine before he had left that morning.
“You’d know all about shovin’ off duties,” Arthur muttered.
Well, he may have been fine that morning, but it was clear he was digging into that aging grudge about the year he had left. John was about done with this whole thing.
“It’s hot, my head’s poundin’, and I’m surprised I’m still on my feet,” he snapped, “You gonna tell me if it’s worth takin’ the bike back or not?”
“Would be more trouble than it's worth to take it back like it is--least, as far as I know how to fix it,” Arthur replied around a sigh, glancing down at the bike in question. “Guess I could talk to Hosea or Dutch, might have some information on a shop that might not ask many questions. With the O’Driscolls around, figure there might be one or two.”
“Great…” John muttered, shaking his head lightly as he stepped around the other man. “How long we gonna keep doin’ this?”
“Doin’ what? This? Far as I know, there’s no ‘we’ in you wreckin’ your bike.”
“No, the runnin’,” John stated, causing Arthur to stare at him for a few moments before he glanced away, frown on his face.
He had been expecting some sort of reprimand, something close to Dutch’s usual offense when he asked these types of questions. John was loyal, he was, yet...well, he wasn’t blind to what was happening. Arthur was just as loyal, John knew. Yet, the look that crossed his face was thoughtful, somewhat sad.
“I dunno,” he replied after a moment, “Dutch’ll...do what he does best, I suppose. Won’t be livin’ out of some worn down warehouse forever.”
“I’m just waitin’ for someone to get arrested, have the rest of the country comin’ down on us,” John muttered, “Hell, maybe Abigail had the right idea in gettin’ out of here with Jack.”
“Maybe…” Arthur returned, almost under his breath before letting out a huff, “Though, I’d get yourself a better bike if you’re concerned about runnin’. Old Boy’s on his last legs--that is, if we can find someone who’ll fix this.”
“Guess we’ll have to see,” John replied, watching as Arthur moved to head back toward his own bike.
“C’mon, I’m already tired and standin’ here with you ain’t helpin’,” he said over his shoulder, leaving John to follow him to the back of his bike.
Still, bike or no bike, he couldn’t help some sort of sinking feeling that they were going to run out of road eventually. It was only a matter of how they managed to go out once they did.
I played red dead redemption agesssss ago like, in mayish and i still cry every time i seen John Marston die, like seriously. I sit there, putting myself through torture and cry my eyes out. WHY!? WHY THE HELL DID YOU HAVE TO KILL HIM STUPID GOVERNMENT IN AMERICA AT THAT CERTAIN TIME, WHY?!. I know he killed loads of people but it was for good, they were bad people! I know he used to be like some sort of Outlaw but he was trying to start a good life for him and his family and you have to go and shoot him!? NOT COOL!
