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Parents

Ghhh.

fem john and javier.. they so doomed

🥺mama and papa

a little continuation to the story about the scar! 👀🌸

It always broke my heart the way Arthur talked about himself when looking in the mirror… I'm sure he always hated himself and his self-esteem was terrible.. and therefore Mary very often talked about how good and handsome he was, just at any moment of their time together..

p.s. don't blame me, I'm such a romantic at heart.. I'm sure these two had so many sweet moments together.. because the game clearly makes it clear how much they loved each other

EYAYAAAAAAYAAAAAAAAAAAA

back with some old trikey/oc sketches from last year

full here

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.

Lord give me strength

the smoke break WIP @niccage fic ‘the bunny manual’

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!

he do a little dance