Cowboys - Tumblr Posts
anyways i read this fic like 3 days ago and the “serennedy cowboys au” worms have NOT left my brain so this is the consequence of that - i shall draw art for that fic soon hopefully, but for now pls take whatever this is
also this is very much loosely inspired LMAO i know the fic takes place in spain where this is very much us but reality can be whatever i want and inspiration does its own thing unfortunately
Doodle in between DnD art.
Originally was going to be a GOTG2 version of Steve but, a friend gave me another idea and this was born.
Yay cowboys!
Sorry i was missing for a few months i was 300 hours deep in rdr2 group canvas drawing, i cannot take credit for stickman arthur and his horse.
This feels like proof of past lives
the ghost of one specific homosexual cowboy regularly possesses Tumblr gays
witches and cowboys are the same entity but just separated at night and day.
Honore ~ The Outsider
{ drew @cassandrajp. Cowboy shadowhunter oc}
gays help me out, also leave your answer + your orientation in the tags
request'd by someone - decided to make the designs simple
Introducing what I hope will become a webcomic called Roses and Revolvers and our main characters Florrie (left) and Clara-Rose (right)
After barely escaping death at the hands of The Pioneers of Eden ten years ago for her sexuality, Florence 'Florrie' McKinney (left) has made the small town of Windycross her home. The best part of it all, aside from escaping a homophobic murder cult, is the life she's been building with the mayor's daughter, Clara-Rose Atkins (right), and their two closest friends, Sweeny (9) and Dongyang (19). Unfortunately, when Sweeny comes across another survivor of The Pioneers of Eden, Florrie finds herself face-to-face with her past as she vows to take down the cult and their dark magic-wielding leader once and for all.
Yes, I'm still working on 'The Incorruptible, Corrupted' at school with my professor. And I'd appreciate anyone who wants to share this post to get people hyped for one of my next projects!
R E D D A W N
The Red Phantom carried a cannon on his hip that spoke like a storm
Wherever he went black clouds followed, disaster and death
And today, a saccharine specter rides
In my town, at noon, with no clouds in sight
All we hear is thunder
Water still as glass
Snow cloaks the landscape into solemn silence, quiet
The Woman in Black cradles her dying daughter, a fragile thing broken and battered, red against white, tiny hand half into still water
Heartbeat slows, beat by beat by beat, freezing into place like the trees and mountains in glacier grasp
No cries, no last words
Only fear in rapidly darkening eyes
Black blood beneath cracked boots, worn as canyons carved by master erosion
Churn, crack, split, burn
Machines churn, lumbering titans of iron and steel, fire down their flanks
Men on knees, praying to God in Heaven and God in Oil
Far away watches the Red Phantom, dark tears down a gaunt face
He rides on and down, and feeds his Cannon with blood
The Red Phantom stood, and around him lightning flashed, rain like a new deluge
Cannon pointed, hungry metal ravenous
The Woman in Black smiled her last smile, and blood mixed with western waters down her body in final baptism
Crack
Crack
Crack
Crucified, sacrificed to cruel winds that howled and scratched and stole, never giving, always taking
Men from bygone era hung in the shadow of the canyon, ropes that held by nature of the spite of the Law
Sun the color of justice, bright as molten metal, threw hot lines down broken crags, harsh stones
The Man in Red stalked the land, made from Man into God, and God into Legend
Last of his kind
Angry to the Finality
We step into the daylight.
Me, from the shade of a hospitable tree. All bone branches, gnarled roots. Like hands reaching. Whether in warning or blessing, it doesn’t matter.
Him, from his lair, his tavern and dominion, all shadows. All menacing tricks, all dark turns of mind to shape others. Break them. With words, or with steel.
Around us, watchful and frightful expressions. Faces drawn tight by merciless predators, and a yet still merciless sun. Receded eyes and recessed hopes looking out.
Me, set. Silent. I make my peace. With the sand and stone that may claim me as it has claimed so many others, regardless of their legend. Let it claim what it will. My victory, or my bones.
Him, smile wide as a raging wildlife, and as friendly. Chattering like a murder of ravens. Hollow words for a man filled only by darkness, by blood, and hollowed in return by it. Smirking like my blood has already hit this silent, stoic sand.
Waiting.
The heavy iron clock speaks its word, declares the contest open.
And with a single report, it is closed.
the ghost of one specific homosexual cowboy regularly possesses Tumblr gays
Wanted Dead or Alive - (2022)
I asked people on Twitter what they wanted to see from me next and a lot of answers were “Sam & Dean Winchester as cowboys”. Ok! Enjoy then! 😁