Captainhadleyswhore - T𝚘m𝚊

Boodravens been busy aura farming

bloodraven at the redgrass field

Michael De Santa : 48 & 28

He’s a perfect definition of “daddy.” 😆😚💙

Two MFs that actually run this whole operation

i remember working with someone like Ruby and they're actually one of the VERY loyal and nicest people i met in this industry i'm so glad with how this fandom been treating her. i just wish nicole would stop playing around lmao

a kiss for each of your finger tips.

then a kiss on your palm, his whiskers scratchy against it as he brought it to cradle his face.

saying goodbye to arthur was never easy. tears welled up the moment he approached his mount. the silhouette of him walking from you was almost too much to bare, and dripped down your face in silent runs.

“sweet girl.” he’d say scoldingly when he turned around to see you, though his turquoise eyes swam with softness. “crying for me.”

he’d press his mouth against the tears in gentle kisses. then, mounted with his dark hat shadowing the panes of his face, he’d begin the ritual worship of your hands. he was leaning down towards you now, eyes closed as he savored the feeling of your hand against his cheek.

“i love you, darlin’. you know that.” he’d say this with his eyes still closed, as if he was feeling your love in his very bones.

you did, and you loved him. desperately. hungrily. with every cell in your body and without a moment’s doubt. you loved the outlaw like he was god. all of these thoughts raced through your head but you could only reply with, “come back to me in one piece. ill hunt you down after a fortnight.”

his eyes would open then, sparkling with humor. “you promise?”

you’d kiss him through his scratching laugh.

the days would pass painfully slow. laundry was scrubbed, a shirt of his nearly pressed and starched for him and hung in the closet. bread was baked and ate alongside a solitary bowl of stew. the small cabin you had for yourself become a prison. the days you spent with friends in town were the only reprieve.

but when he came back to you… oh lord, when he came back to you.

you’d spot him on the horizon. he galloped towards you with an eagerness that made you laugh. the book you clutched as comfort was thrown onto the floor as you barreled out the front door and down the steps.

and there he was, dirty and sweat-stained, smelling like gunpowder and coffee.

and there he was, taking you in his arms and bringing you close, breathing your name like a healing prayer.

One thing I've always thought about with Mary's first letter is how she wrote that Arthur knows it's from her because of her bad handwriting. It just always stuck with me because it makes you think that they must have sent letters so often over the years that they eventually memorised eachother's handwriting.

That maybe when they were younger, Arthur, in his early twenties, giddy and full of nerves as he rode to the post office to deliver his letter for the woman he loved? Cursing to himself as he fretted about what he'd written, worried about sounding like a fool?

Then Mary, at the same time, full of butterflies as she slipped out every day to check for a new letter from Arthur, and then writing her own letters before scrunching them up and rewriting them again and again, cursing to herself because of her bad handwriting? Wanting to make it as nice as Arthur's?

Do you think about how something as simple as sending letters was probably the steadiest thing keeping them together in their own chaotic lives, how it probably made them both feel so much less lonely through everything? Do you think about it. Do you. Do.

Time for new headcanons 👀🙏🏻

I believe that Mary in her youth was full of love and passion for adventure! Arthur opened up a new world for her and they were truly completely absorbed in each other and the events around them.

And of course she was a frequent visitor to the gang’s camp!

dont ask me

silly little trade req for @kishmann *чмок*

Raw

Arthur Morgan if he was Max from Mad Max