#dead molly what dead molly

[abovesn4kes]

Totally forgot to post the rest of these designs here! More to follow soon :-)

Doodles below!

[babyaiker]

And quietly in the distance you can hear the Braithwaite Manor explode

But ye! Finally getting out of art block and I decided to draw these two! I’ve seen a small handful of posts talking about these two and how they could’ve been friends, but I know for a fact this is akin to an ask @honeyzephyr sent me ^^ At the time I wasn’t able to come up with an idea based on the prompt they gave, so instead I have something that while is a tad different, still fulfills the niche!

Yes I want these two to be friends it would be so fun. I can absolutely see Kieran offering to hear her out whenever she needs. (like a mix of genuine empathy and a lack of social awareness to understand why the others in camp seem to want nothing to do with her) So in the drawing we have the reverse, Molly stopping by to make sure Kieran isn’t too shaken up about his “involvement” in Jack’s kidnapping. Because yes the empathy goes both ways, even if Molly possibly has some reservations about talking to him. (I mainly got this idea from the fact that at the beginning of the Braithwaite Manor raid mission, both can be seen near Dutch in the cutscene)

*insert that one gif of Kieran helping Molly step down from the stagecoach in the background of a cutscene beginning of chapter 4 :3*

[ba1laur]

still trying to find a look for those guys. the world of dog eat dog is so cruel to straight people

[arthursfuckinghat]

Sometimes, I'll be doing a mission with Dutch and everything is fine.

Other times, the light will catch his face in a way that makes me seethe.

I get reminded that Dutch got to age, he got to grow grey.

Did Arthur get that chance? Jenny, Mac, Davey, Sean, Kieran, Lenny, Molly? Did any of them get to grow old together?

Why didn't they, Dutch? Why didn't the gang survive? Why didn't they get the promised virgin lands in the west? Why did you outlive them?

Go on, Dutch, go ahead. I'm listening.

[river-of-wine]

Me and the devil

[incominghazelgoose]

gilded cage molly. i kinda wish she had at least one small quest. or you know, a cutscene where she isn't either interrupted or killed maybe

*heavily* inspired by this post and also this post and really just @river-of-wine 's analyses of molly in general i'm obsessed with all of it tbh

[daily-odile]

Odile patting Molly Epithet Erased on the head, you know why

have two bc i care them

[witherbee]

over the last 11 years i’ve come to almost numb myself when telling people my dad is dead. people don’t know what to say. they get uncomfortable. i feel bad that me sharing this fact about my life makes them uncomfortable. i almost forget that it’s sad information because i try to move past the interaction as quickly as possible. and besides, i can’t get Sad every time i have to share this fact with someone. but today my coworker made me feel so seen. her genuine reaction to my loss made me remember that others can, in fact, see my grief. i am grateful for it. and i am grateful to others who trust me to hold their grief. i cherish your sharing.

[2demondogs]

All He Knew | Dutch/Molly & Dutch/Hosea

Tags: Past VanDerMatthews, implied sexual content, post-sex cuddling Words: 1k A/N: For Kinktober from SFW list, embracing. I intended to write more, but I lost the spark, so here it lays. Dutch loves boobs regardless of gender hashtag equality.

Dutch smells like worked-off cologne and dry earth, hot sweat. Molly presses her nose to his throat as their breathing slows, can smell the familiar, faint scent from between her own thighs on his face and flushes at the realization. It's something denser, more musky. She thinks their sexes smell alike and isn't sure what to make of that information, beyond the dull ache it sparks in her gut.

It means she's been between his legs, and him between hers, and oh, she's never been so carnally desperate.

O' God, she wants and wants him over again, and Dutch has satisfied her every wish so far — and thank God, because she doesn't know how much longer she could have lived without him.

Breasts pressed his bare chest, those warm hands along her back and their callouses catching on her soft skin, Molly feels good. Fulfilled. Wanted for something besides the simple satisfaction men take in the attention of a very special girl.

Although Dutch assures her she is very special, it isn't the same as it was back home. Boys liked her because of her name. O'Shea means nothing here, and that feels good. It means Dutch must like Molly.

He grunts, then, and she realizes she's digging her chin into his chest, shifting to rest more comfortably atop him. Dutch tightens his arms around her, chuckles when she sighs. She likes the rumble of his laugh beneath her ear, pressed over the curly black hair coating his chest.

"Happy?" He asks, and his voice is thin with overworkedness.

Dutch worked it out over her. Molly won't ever be able to think of it without flushing, the way his deep voice snaps in half and falls like sand against her freckles; the way the power seeps out of it and into her.

"Content, I'd call it," she says, her own voice sounding strange. She never can get her pitch to sound normal, feeling too breathy, too easily feminine. The man in him brings out the woman in her; that makes her feel good, too, in some biblical way.

He laughs again, so rich and deep. "Honored to be so highly reviewed," he says, voice cracking on the first word.

She smacks his chest playfully, earns a quiet yelp because she's accidentally hit him right on the nipple. The skin pebbles as she smooths an apologetic hand over it. "Crude."

His own hand covers hers. She likes how it dwarfs her own. "Crude?" Dutch repeats, disbelieving. "I just—"

"Don't say what you just," Molly says, feigning scandal.

Really, she's grinning, hiding her face in his neck. He grabs at her hips and she squeals, his touch rough and sudden and he laughs some, too, rolling them over to kiss along her chest. His lips are cracked, leave little tingling sensations like papercuts along her skin as it warms them into softness again.

Red begins to spread over her shoulders once more, but any arousal is shot down with an oomph as Dutch stops and settles half-atop her, stretching out like a cat bathing in the sun. It feels like half her ribcage is crushed, while the other half runs free; he must be two-hundred pounds or so of muscle and fat and Jesus, he's so much heavier than she ever expects him to be.

Molly sighs another laugh, but it dies, too, in favor of fondness — Dutch lays his head on her one breast, nose pressed into where the other folds over her body. That large hand splays along her side and she cannot be angry, or discomforted. She'll just breathe on the left side for now, because he seems so happy to lay at her bosom. He may as well purr when she strokes a hand through his hair, carding out the tangles of sex and the sweat-soaked strands at his temples.

She blushes. He had sweat because of her.

"I never thought I'd like body hair," Dutch is saying quietly, his fingers tracing the faint, coily blond hairs at Hosea's middle. It makes the muscles jump when he skirts over the skin.

He grunts, softened dick twitching at the proximity. "Quit foolin'," he warns, tapping his shoulder. "I'll roll you 'round again."

Dutch snickers, moves his hand to rest over Hosea's heart without ever leaving his skin. They stick together where they touch, bare — stick together by sweat and heat, Dutch laid atop and curled across him as if he could confuse the Lord as to who is who.

It's easy enough to tell.

Dutch is tanned in a handsome manner, and Hosea's own skin is splotchy in color, his legs and crotch paler than a sheet besides the rosiness in his cock and knees. It's leaving them, too, as his blood stops pooling in funny places. Maybe it all rushes to where Dutch lays on him, sticks to him like a fly strip. The man certainly makes him feel hot enough, whether it's because the heat rolls off of him or the fire starts itself in his body of its own accord.

Absently, Hosea ruffles the mop of black curls spilling everywhere at his shoulder, smoothing them back into something less irritating when a few get caught on his mouth. He likes how frizzy Dutch's hair gets when they sleep together, how much thicker it seems once the pomade is worked out and no longer compressing the strands. The keening he does as he works it out doesn't hurt either, voice breaking over and over.

Scratching his chewed-down nails over the back of his neck, earning a shudder as they run across the nape, he splays his hand on Dutch's shoulder and settles deeper into the hotel mattress.

To his unsurprise, because he knows the man very well, Dutch grabs his hand and replaces it on his head without a word.

More, it begs. I liked that.

Hosea obliges, traces light enough that Dutch presses his face firmly to his chest and groans. He can feel his cheek spread in a smile.

[messrmoonyy]

Molly O’Shea | Clemens Point

[wampabampa]

Screw you apple for making ur products die so fast when you come out with new stuff

Anyways heres a doodle dump so my blog isnt JUST of me yapping. These are both old new and current😔 (img 7 is scrapped)

Im thinking about changing molly to bee? Maybe? Idk. What i DO know is that shes a baddie bitch now from da city😔goodbye ms. My-Dream-is-to-live-in-the-city and welcome ms. Im-walkin-here!

The misty doodle is if she was a bad bitch with mollys personality😔

Also! Cheddar siblings reveal except easy cheese cause i took a break from that and completely forgot about it till now!

[omgwhatchloe]

some rdr2 fans can go about their lives being uneducated on ireland and where sean comes from, fine by me i wont bother them

but its when the fact theyre uneducated is making them unintentionally disrespectful thats when i start too

[v-a-l]

My favourite detail in OOTP is when Harry finds Sirius at the dining hall Crookshanks is curled up in his lap. Like he’s surrounded by people screaming at him about “Dumbledore’s instructions”, not allowed to go outside cause the ministry and Death Eaters are gunning for him, he’s being called irresponsible and reckless and he’s brushing it all aside cause boy does he know how to deal with people screaming at him in this house, any regardless: he’s still got Crookshanks. He’s got Buckbeak and they remain Sirius’ first and last line of defence

Harry felt something brush against his knees and started, but it was only Crookshanks, Hermione’s bandy-legged ginger cat, who wound himself once around Harry’s legs, purring, then jumped onto Sirius’s lap and curled up. Sirius scratched him absentmindedly behind the ears as he turned, still grim-faced, to Harry.

Harry did not mention his vague suspicions to Sirius, whose cheerfulness was evaporating fast now that Christmas was over. As the date of their departure back to Hogwarts drew nearer, he became more and more prone to what Mrs. Weasley called “fits of the sullens,” in which he would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak’s room for hours at a time. His gloom seeped through the house, oozing under doorways like some noxious gas, so that all of them became infected by it.

[kindheartedgummybears]

I regret nothing

[mariajamel]

Grief

Left to right: Chade, Patience, Burrich, Molly, the Fool

[river-of-wine]

I realised I hadn’t drawn her in this outfit and that simply COULD NOT continue