k0dkod

[k0dkod]

late nights by the fire.

the beauty of man can be captivating at times.

[k0dkod]

a man and his dog.

"you remind me of someone, boy. my old hound, copper. not a better dog than 'im." the man cooed, petting the stray before him fondly. no pooch was better that copper, but this one... he could be a runner up.

[k0dkod]

boys who say “pleasepleasepleaseplease” when they’re close to cumming and “thankyouthankyouthankyou” when you finally let them 🩷

[k0dkod]

oh, charthur, how i love you

cowboys are frequently, secretly, fond of eachother. say, what did you think all them saddles and boots was about?

- willie nelson

[k0dkod]

late nights in ambarino.

the moon hung bright over the aching cowboy, his steed stirring below him as the cool night carried on.

[k0dkod]

[k0dkod]

if i had wings

if i had wings

i would fly far from here

i would take flight to distant lands

where the sun basks the land every day

where flowers bloom and never decay

where peace is given instead of taken

if i had wings

i, selfishly, would save myself from the troubles of the world

for i am not strong enough to save anyone else

with them, i would flap and struggle

only to never make it off the ground

with them, family, clinging to my feet

begging to be included in my eternity of peace

do i drag myself down, just to assist them?

or do i save myself?

if i had wings

i would sit

thinking

waiting

after all i have done

am i allowed the luxury of selfishness?

if i had wings

i would not use them

because no amount of strength

could carry the weight

of guilt.

[k0dkod]

Arthur and Death.

I always found the dynamic between Arthur and death to be incredibly intriguing throughout the game. Arthur is, obviously, no stranger to it. He's an outlaw, and had probably killed more men then he can count. It probably bothered him in the beginning — the early days of running with Dutch and Hosea. But at some point, he learned to ignore the guilty unease he felt. He even found enjoyment in it sometimes, as long as it was an O'Driscoll at the business end of his revolver. He seemed to not protest it, as long as there was a balance of helping people between all of the killing. Arthur describes in chapter six how there used to be some sort of reason to it, and while there might of been, I think he also just matured and wasn't just blindly following Dutch anymore. I think the sense of 'reason' was Hosea. Without him, Dutch's plans suddenly seemed irrational and impossible.

Chapter Six.

I think Arthur was fated to death. There was no way for him to escape it. In the beginning he fought against it — fought to get away from it. But in the end, after the tuberculosis got worse, death seemed more like the bed his aching body longed for rather than something he should run from. He was against death, then dealt with it, then accepted it. He said that "apart of him had always longed for death" (late game journal quote, i believe). I think the tuberculosis diagnosis and the failure of the gang was the catalyst to his acceptance of death. Without the gang, Arthur really had nothing. No love, no home, no future. So, with that gone, and John's family safe, he really had fulfilled his purpose in life. At that point, he could finally rest like he had been longing for since Guarma. Maybe even before that.

idk just thought i should rant heh !

[k0dkod]

i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur i miss arthur

[k0dkod]

"oh, arthur."

i don't know what they did to make this line so painful. it hits just as hard each time i hear it. when charles says it, it sounds so pitiful. so sympathetic. arthur accepts charles's attempts at helping him feel a better about his impending doom, even if it's reluctantly. he takes charles's advice about how he can still make amends, which he does go ahead to do, like with the debtor missions you can do in chapter six. also by helping get john out. when mary says it in the letter (which is also heart wrenching, btw) he words are just so full of longing. she wants to be with him so badly, and the sound of the disappointment in her voice literally kills me. i can imagine that conversation between them, and she clearly already knows that arthur isnt going to run away with her despite his claims to. he just cant pull himself away from the gang. or when abigail says it at the end of chapter six with sadie? her words are thick with pain of thinking that john was dead or killed, and now that arthur would most likely be next. she wants to beg him not to go, but arthur shuts her down before she can. he doesn't hesitate, either, when telling her that he is going back whether she wants him to or not. he needed to, because he needed to make a last ditch effort to try and help those who were left. john probably would have been killed if arthur hadn't gone back. really, maybe it was a good thing.

god if i hear "oh arthur" again im going to hurt someone.

[k0dkod]

Analyzing Charthur Hug because. I can.

ft. choppy photos from a random yt video i found.

1. the folk watching them in the background.

2. charles' face + arthur settling onto his shoulder before reeling back a bit. how close they are.

3. arthur throwing an arm around his back. note his face is a tad closer. how close it all is.

4. arthur's arm actually being around charles' waist

5. they were holding hands the whole time.

6. charles still reaching out towards his hand. arthur still with a hand on charles' arm.

7. these two still holding on.

8. still

[k0dkod]

ok what if i cry. charles you make me so sad arthur you make me so sad. why is charthur so SAD. these star crossed lovers make me scream and sob and cry

came up with the headcanon that charles is the gang’s grave digger. he carves the crosses, digs the hole, lays the body in the grave, buries it. not just because he’s the strongest, or the most used to seeing death, but because i think he needs that formality. he needs to see a body to make sure they’re dead.

the way he stopped to stare at lenny while they were running on the roofs of saint denis. the way him and abigail snuck into the morgue to get hosea and lenny’s bodies. the way he went back, not just to camp for grimshaw, but also across the damn mountains, just to track arthur’s body to bury it.

charles needs to make sure someone is dead. needs to make sure that, yes, the world did take something else from him. yes, there is nothing he can do about it, except bury them and move on. burying them is his way of grieving, of seeing them one last time as they were, albeit whatever injury caused them to die in the first place.

i think arthur’s death hit the hardest, though.

grimshaw’s might have also hurt, mostly due to decomposition and the fact that she was just an innocent women, but arthur’s.

all of the bodies that charles buried in the game were fresher. at most, a week in a morgue, which would’ve taken some measures to prevent speedy decomposition. arthur’s body, though? it was months old. nails and teeth would be loose enough to pull off. bones would be visible. his skin was yellow, body bloated, eyes most likely pecked out by birds.

charles wasn’t given time to grieve. he was too busy helping the wapiti to grieve over the fact that arthur had left, that he wasn’t going to see him again. he wasn’t even given the satisfaction of seeing his body as it was, even if it was sickly. he couldn’t grieve arthur while he was alive, or while he was dead.

i think that’s why charles spent so much time on arthur’s grave. adding flowers, carving in a quote, forming the grave much more complexly than a simple cross, finding the most gorgeous place possible that he knew arthur would’ve liked. it was his way of saying he was sorry. he was sorry he couldn’t bury arthur in time for him to decompose properly. he was sorry that some of arthur’s nails fell off of taima’s back on the ride there, because they were so loose that they couldn’t stay in. he was so sorry, and he couldn’t fix it, and now arthur was dead, and charles was alone.

[k0dkod]

Helloo

I saw you were encouraging requests for writing, and I just had something on my mind for awhile.

Id really love to see how the interaction would be between an Arthur and a grown up version of his son (maybe in some au where Isaac survives and is wandering around? Something like that and he struggles to recognize at first)

Thank you for your time!

- Reunion, at last.

✧ summary - After all these years, Arthur had moved on from the deaths of Eliza and Isaac. Mostly, anyways. However, after a brief encounter in town, all of those feelings he had pushed down are stirred awake once more. ✧ word count - ~1.5k ✧ warnings/tags - Arthur Morgan, Isaac Morgan (?), very minor angst, reunion, fluff, mentions of death, brief mention of alcohol use, happy ending, arthur lives au, isaac lives au. ✧ a/n - oh em gee!!! first fic i have literally ever written so please be kind! i am so giddy. i love these boys so much and they make me so sad, so its happy to see them alive bc who kills a CHILD. ✧ requests - open! please, please request! ✧ credits - @deltamel (dividers)

The sun was high in the sky, shining down across the fields and basking the Earth with its warmth. Not a cloud in the sky was to be seen. It was actually pretty nice out, lacking the normal gloom that would follow Arthur around as he went about his day. Normally, being in the New Hanover area after so long would bring back memories that he would rather have been repressed, but they were tolerable for the moment. And for that, he was content.

It had been a while since he had been with the Van Der Linde gang. The fallout was long and exhausting, before suddenly blowing up in his face all at once like misfired shotgun. It was miracle he had gotten out of that, really. Sometimes, he would get the newspaper and see something about a group of outlaws robbing a train nearby, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was Dutch and Micah. However, he tried not to allow his thoughts to linger on those fools any longer then they needed to. He wasn't that man anymore.

Gently tugging on the reins eased the mare he sat atop of to a walk as he rode down the main street in town. Valentine hadn't changed one bit since he had last been there. Mud, working girls, and honest men. It lacked the O'Driscolls, kudos to Dutch, Sadie, and him all those years back, so atleast that was an improvement. He hitched his steed infront of the general store, patting the horses jet black flank before disappearing inside. He only had to pick up a few essentials — food, coffee, whiskey, all of which were easy to find. Once purchased and stuffed into his satchel, he pushed his way back through the door. He couldn't help but be eager to get out of town and back to his camp, missing the solitude of the forest. Town's put him on edge, with the sounds and the people. He brushed past a young man on the way out, gruffly excusing himself before climbing back up into the saddle. He grabbed a cigarette from his jacket pocket, lighting it as it hung from his lips before inhaling the smoke, letting it swirl in his lungs to ease his nerves before exhaling, watching the smoke dissipate into the air.

Just as he was about to ride away, he found himself having to pause, feeling a sense of... something tugging him back. He must have been forgetting something. Begrudgingly, he slipped back down off the saddle, apologizing to his mare as if she understood a word of what he was saying, and returned inside. Ignoring the slightly confused look of the cashier, he looked around, trying to figure out what in the world he could have forgotten, before something caught his eye. Or, rather, someone.

The young man he had pushed past earlier, there was something about him. Something familiar. He watched him move from shelf to shelf, grabbing various things that Arthur wasn't paying attention to. His brows furrowed in slight frustration due to the fact he couldn't figure out what was nagging him. Meanwhile, the young man went up to the register, the cashier greeting him with a friendly lilt to his voice.

"Ah, Isaac, how're you doin'? Are you and your momma settlin' into town well?"

Issac?

He didn't even listen to the rest of the conversation. Almost immediately, a million different emotions followed. Confusion, surprise, and maybe fear? More sadness then he had felt in years dominated the rest. This couldn't be him, surely? Isaac was dead. Eliza was dead. They were killed over a few bucks all those years ago. He remembers it so vividly. Almost too vividly, really. He shut just about everyone out for months, falling into the bottle for any sort of comfort, even though none was provided, and yet he still drank. He would go on jobs with the gang, and the ones he did go on always ended up with him having to be carried by everyone else. The familiar prickle of tears in his eyes surprised him almost as much as the revelation of Isaac being alive. Swallowing his pain, he quickly pulled his hat down over his eyes to hide his face, fleeing from his past like it was threatening his life. He couldn't do this. Not here, not now, maybe not ever. He was torn between desperately wanting to see his child and a deep, intense fear that plagued his mind for reasons unknown. He was so worked up and stuck in his head that he didn't hear the jingle of the shop door opening from behind him, the young man stepping out.

"Arthur? Is that... is that you?" a voice asked from behind him, familiar yet different.

Arthur had never been this nervous in his entire life, and he had done it all. Robbed trains, banks, and people, been shot at and stabbed, and ran for his life from bounty hunters. Still, this was the thing that scared him the most. He felt a bit pathetic. Slowly, maybe even a little reluctantly, he turned around, examining the young man before him.

This was definitely his boy. From his lake blue eyes to the dirty blonde hair that curled slightly at the ends, to the faint freckles that dotted the bridge of his nose and his sun kissed skin. Even though the boy looked eerily similar to himself, he still held some Eliza's features. He could see her face structure in him, and his general aura of kindness that mirrored his mothers. He could have broken down into tears right there — what a first impression that would make.

Arthur's mouth opened and closed for a moment, trying to find the words that could even begin to describe how he felt, but they never came. How could he even begin to describe how heartbroken he had been? How distraught, angry and grief stricken? He didn't seem to have to, however, as the boy set down his things and pulled him into a tight hug, clutching onto his father as if he would disappear again if he even dared to let go. After the momentary surprise wore off, Arthur squeezed him back, ignoring the strange looks he got for hugging someone so desperately in the middle of the street.

Eventually, the two separated, followed by Arthur immediately bombarding Isaac with questions about himself, his mother, where he was staying, how he had been doing, and things of the sorts. The poor boy could barely get the answer to one question out before the next one was thrown at him. Arthur simply couldn't help himself. The last time he had seen his son was when he was four or five, and now he was in his mid-twenties. That was so much of his life that he had missed, and he desperately wanted to catch up with all of it as quickly as he could. His meeting of Eliza was similar, with an incredibly long hug and more questions then one person could answer. He must have talked more and hugged them more in the past day then he had to anyone throughout his entire life. He was so proud of the young man for taking care of his mother and getting a good job, he almost couldn't handle himself. They seemed a tad bit nervous around him, considering that he looked much rougher and sported a few more scars then the last time he had seen them, but he couldn't care less. Atleast they were in his arms and alive.

Arthur couldn't help but worry that he may not be accepted into the little family the two of them had created. What if they didn't want him back, and had been better off without him? What if Eliza was mad at him for not finding them when they had fleed from their home? Maybe he was too rough for their domestic lifestyle, considering his past. He could sense the way the shifted uncomfortably as he described what he had been doing all these years. The blood that soaked his hands. Still, he tried to ignore that, remaining hopeful that they wanted him. That they missed him like he had missed them.

By the end of the night, he had been extremely reluctant to leave their home, as if he was worried that they wouldn't be there when he returned tomorrow. He promised over and over that he would visit regularly, and he planned on following through with that. He smiled the whole way back to his little camp.

Sitting on his bedroll, under the stars, he scribbled in his journal, drawing a picture of both Isaac and Eliza from memory. With a bright grin on his face, he recalled every detail of the encounter, down to the smallest of things like how respectful Isaac had grown to be to how beautiful the home was, before finishing off with something sweet and from his heart.

' I can not believe that I saw him today. Oh, how the boy had grown. My boy. I don't think my old bones can handle how excited I am, but I will make them nonetheless. I have a hell of a lot to make up for. I hope I can be the father he needs. '

edit: i'm seeing a few people saying that there could be more to this, which i totally agree with, since this was sort of me testing the waters to see where my skills are and what you guys like. would you guys be interested in some sort of expansion to this? maybe a jump into the future?

[k0dkod]

guys.... im thinking about writing??? like oneshots and headcanons and whatnot?? pls make requests bc i want to get better at writing heh !!!!

edit: also first post hi ummmm intro coming sooner then later

[k0dkod]

Chapter 2 of The Way Home is up!!

Tags: @alphabetpal @miladyknits

lmk if u wanna be tagged for the next chapter or u can just tell me if u wanna be tagged indefinitely :))

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61801228/chapters/158715166#workskin

[k0dkod]

sigh guys i love him sm

(This is not a serious analysis, do not take it seriously)

I think it is fucking funny that people around Arthur keeps questioning his sexuality and while he has no fucking clue about it, he also ain't helping his own case.

When rejecting some of the prositutes you might encounter reactions like "oh so you don't like pretty girls" or "oh you are one of those, I don't judge" to which Arthur might just replies "thank you."

Street kids will mock him by saying "looking for the cheapest whore house?" "As if he even likes women!"

The one time he is kissed on the mouth is by a dude, Bill thinks Arthur literally fucked a dude and was ready to accept him as one of theirs AND ANOTHER OF THE CANONLY GAY CHARACTERS (Alden, confirmed by the Rhodes saloon bartender) WRITES KISSES ON THE NOTES HE GIVES ARTHUR.

At the same time Arthur says "I think there are both men and women worth loving in this world" and there is a glitch where a man WILL LITERALLY WAKE UP IN BED NEXT TO ARTHUR.

[k0dkod]

BAM!!! 🩸