I Am Thinking Of Starting To Make Some Arthur Morgan X Readers/ Imagines For My Fellow Folk On Tumblr

I am thinking of starting to make some Arthur Morgan x Readers/ Imagines for my fellow folk on tumblr who can’t stop being obsessed w him -

Send some ideas of things you want written about him?

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There’s a good man within you Arthur, but he is wrestling with a giant

live footage of arthur x reader girlies waiting until the perfect time in their chapter to use the phrase 'calloused hands':

heard porn bots might be following you guys again. sorry about that. but in some good news i have been gaining many new followers who are real stunningly beautiful women. welcome ladies :)

As Goncharov lies bleeding out, his last memory is that of a clandestine meeting with Andrey, several decades ago. Both of them use aliases for this - Goncharov introduces himself as Rasmus Lofvgren, and Andrey as Felix Strauss. In long overcoats and felt fedora hats, the two meet at nighttime in a park overlooking the city. Andrey looks young and unburdened, and Goncharov greets him warmly like an old friend. They hug, they laugh, and make small talk, like they’ve been doing it for years and will do so for years more.

Then as their conversation fades, there is a gesture of sudden and unexpected intimacy. The two men still, turn to eachother and Goncharov lights Andrey’s cigarette with the fire from his own. He cradles Andrey’s face with shocking tenderness that speaks of a casual familiarity and Andrey leans into the touch, almost indulgent. There is a moment of tension between them before Andrey looks down, uncharacteristically coy. The camera lingers as they stare at eachother for a few seconds before turning away. As they turn towards the glittering city that will doom them, we fade back to a dying Goncharov.

The nature of the scene is intentionally ambiguous— Andrey has only known Goncharov a few months, so chronologically, it’s out of place. Is it a false memory, a hallucination, or the wish fulfilment of a dying man?

Further examination shows another layer. Goncharov’s chosen alias was that of an actor best known for playing a time traveller, a low-budget sci-fi show whose key theme was defying your destiny. Andrey’s was that of a thespian who was playing a London National Theatre post-modernist production of Odysseus at the time. They are pretending to be other people, who pretend to be other people — actors whose characters escape their tragedy, from stories that defy fate. As if, in telling himself a story where tragic characters can escape, Goncharov puts himself in a story where he, too, can survive.

But the story is already over and nothing can be changed. Goncharov dies a lonely, desolate man, having alienated everyone who cares for him and the last act of tenderness we see him commit never even happened.

—Francine Rubek, Violent Delights, Violent Ends: On Queer Readings of Masculine Tragedy (2003, Oxford University Press)

The thing is I do like cliche and over-quoted poetry. Like wow I do love you and I'm glad I exist. You are in a car with a beautiful boy and he won't tell you that he loves you but he loves you. You do only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. There are twice as many stars as usual.