Latest Posts by rott3nlamb - Page 2

he is trying his best to be good he is trying his best to be clean but his hair never stops growin’ and the blood never stops flowin’🩸🕊️❤️‍🩹

i love epilogue john with short hair oouuuuhooo i love him there is just something about it auuhhhhh something something trauma and recovery and intense desire to rid himself of this brutal past that haunts him so deeply but he never can and never will and it will never be enough, he will hide his face and introduce himself as an imposter until his real name sounds like a vulgar obscenity on his tongue, he will bite his tongue and bury his nature and keep his revolver holstered until his hands twitch with excitement and he tastes iron and feels at home, he will scrub his skin raw trying to erase phantom hands and he will cut his hair with a dull knife until his head is bleeding his knuckles ache and his back itches and the river will carry the hair, the blood, the grime and shame and longing scrubbed from the tender skin between his legs downstream and he will imagine that he is clean, he will imagine that he has cut the last bit of them out of his life for good, he will imagine a life of peace and forgiveness and acceptance until he feels a cold breeze on his bare neck and a sickening warmth in his gut and a heavy gnawing pain in his chest and he hears those terrible, awful, heartbreaking whispers of “son” and “brother” on the wind and he isn’t crying, he isn’t crying, he isn’t crying

🐺Uh, I love that fella!

i love epilogue john with short hair oouuuuhooo i love him there is just something about it auuhhhhh something something trauma and recovery and intense desire to rid himself of this brutal past that haunts him so deeply but he never can and never will and it will never be enough, he will hide his face and introduce himself as an imposter until his real name sounds like a vulgar obscenity on his tongue, he will bite his tongue and bury his nature and keep his revolver holstered until his hands twitch with excitement and he tastes iron and feels at home, he will scrub his skin raw trying to erase phantom hands and he will cut his hair with a dull knife until his head is bleeding his knuckles ache and his back itches and the river will carry the hair, the blood, the grime and shame and longing scrubbed from the tender skin between his legs downstream and he will imagine that he is clean, he will imagine that he has cut the last bit of them out of his life for good, he will imagine a life of peace and forgiveness and acceptance until he feels a cold breeze on his bare neck and a sickening warmth in his gut and a heavy gnawing pain in his chest and he hears those terrible, awful, heartbreaking whispers of “son” and “brother” on the wind and he isn’t crying, he isn’t crying, he isn’t crying

i love how john bares his teeth at that german guy in rdr yes hahaha snarl now boy >:)

i saw this john screenshot on pinterest and was possessed.

u guys have got it all wrong morston songs (and just john marston songs in general) are every townes van zandt song and that’s it nothing else ever shut up

this as a first post ig..guh it's quite old but my newest drawings are kinda shit and i have school so its hard to focus and draw </3 so ya here's john marston!!

DO NOT STEAL!!

anywayayya have a great day guys

the dutch -> john -> jack violence pipeline drives me insane. admire me, admire my home!! admire my son, he's my clone!!

giant in the cave thinking a lot about 1907, john and his loneliness. how he copes with it, and how he talks about it with strangers. he knows it well. i'd write a whole 10k text wall about his loneliness but it goes hand in hand with mine and i don't really want to dive into it. drawing little pictures is easier than talking about stuff

At my funerals play the entire perverts album of ethel cain or ill make a big ass storm and become an evil entity

“The greatest pleasures are only narrowly separated from disgust.”

— Cicero, De Oratore

Natalie Díaz, from “Wolf OR-7”, Postcolonial Love Poem

john marston has never seen snow without blood

morston just hurts sooooo good if they never even fucked each other and the only bit of intimacy they’ve ever shared together is arthur locking eyes with john through the cut linen of dutch’s tent — john’s eyes are hollow, wet with tears and red with a young boy’s rage, his jaw is slack, bleeding strangled hymns, his darkly shining hair is splayed over the cot, forms a twisted halo around his skull — arthur feels sick, wants to gag, almost does, wants to run and he almost does that, too, but he can’t bear to leave john alone like this, wonders how many times he’s been alone like this — with dutch — and when dutch hunches forward to run his hand over john’s chest and grasp at his throat his wide frame shadows john, swallows him all up until arthur can only see dark shimmering eyes peering up at him over dutch’s shoulder, refusing to look away and it all makes him feel deathly ill, stomach twisting, the stench of rot in his nose and when john cries and cries and dutch groans, hitches himself flat to john and holds fast there, lips twitching into a smirk, heaving with pride, arthur trembles with anger — fists clenched at his sides, fingers twitching because he can’t decide whether he wants to beat dutch to a bloody mess of fractured bone and mush or fire into him until his body is so full of holes that’s it’s nearly shredded in half — but he just keeps watching and he hates himself for it, and when dutch finally lifts off the boy and moves across the tent and john stays there, torn and shivering, glistening with sweat and tears and perversion, warmth, not hate, not fear, fucking warmth returns to his eyes that never once strayed from arthur’s.

i think we need to talk about john’s dead daughter more can we do that is it okay if we do that who wants to do that

i know some people hate this ship, just row it away, thx

The Swan (1915)

— by Hilma Af Klint

I hate him

“what’s your writing process” i put a pathetic guy in a blender and blend blend blend

top 3 places to bleed out:

1. the snow

2. your lover/best friend/homoerotic comrade’s arms

3. bathroom floor

i need to kiss whoever decided to give RDR2 epilogue john marston a goddamn red choker. and whoever made him bark like a dog BOTH when drunk and sober.

RED DEAD REDEMPTION II ⋆ scenery (10/?) → gif set inspired by the album Preacher's Daughter by Ethel Cain → Western Nights (4/13)

need more “guish” words. anguish. extinguish. languish. great for when a character is bleeding out on the floor

preparing for my first market ever, drawin merch

The Hand of God

my favourite piece of wolf bait ❤️‍🔥

Brothers fate,

Scrapped the other design-

“If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’”