#and this means he is a cowboy

[delicate-sketch]

guys I was watching queer movies and

[yanderedrabbles]

i love your yandere cowboy i was just wondering how he would treat reader when she’s pregnant and how does he react when other men try and hit on reader

Yandere Cowboy - Jealousy

Yandere! Cowboy ain't scared of a brawl. Hell, he's started plenty of his own.

Yandere! Cowboy who's the worst kind of rabbid dog - mean and just a bit too cruel to ever be a good man.

Yandere! Cowboy who assumes everyone on the ranch knows you're his girl, but apparently the new guy hasn't gotten the message.

It's been a long, shitty day and all he wants is his pretty lady and a nice, hot meal. Yandere! Cowboy who comes up on the barn and sees you leaning against the fence, smiling all pretty for some other man.

Yandere! Cowboy who wants to prove himself to you. Show off the muscles he earned hauling hay and wrangling steers. He's top dog, ain't he? You should know that.

Yandere! Cowboy who grabs the guy's collar and slams him into the fence, asking why the bastards talking to his girl.

Yandere! Cowboy who might have let him go if he apologised, if he said he didn't know you were taken. But instead the man spits and says such a pretty girl sure as hell shouldn't be with a mean bastard like him.

Yandere! Cowboy who shrugs you off when you try and pull him away. Who ignores you when you say it was nothing, just a little conversation between strangers. You don't understand the way men think - this bastard would've stolen you away in a second if he had the chance.

Yandere! Cowboy who throws a punch so hard that the guy ends up spitting blood. Who drives his knee into his stomach so the bastard falls to the ground doubled over and heaving for air.

Yandere! Cowboy who jams his spurs into his face, blood spraying across his boots.

The other guy might look strong but Yandere! Cowboy is protecting his territory and nothing could make him more dangerous.

Yandere! Cowboy who rubs the blood off his face with red raw knuckles. Who grabs you by the wrist and pulls you close to him. Who says if you ever talk so pretty to another man, it's your face he'll grind under his boots. You're his. And if he has to hurt you a little to make sure you remember, then so be it.

Yandere! Cowboy who thinks you look even prettier than usual when your eyes are all big and scared, when you look like a little rabbit he's got by the neck.

Yandere! Cowboy who leans down and kisses you as the sunset turns the field to molten gold. You can taste blood on his lips and the hand on your nape is too tight to be tender.

Yandere! Cowboy who's never had anything so pretty and so delicate in his life. Who's jealousy makes him deadly.

Yandere! Cowboy who's never learnt how to treat a pretty girl. So he treats you like he does all the things he owns - stashed away where other men can't steal it.

[thapunqueen]

SO I SADDLE UP MY HORSE AND I RIDE INTO THE CITAAYY !!!!!

[ebodebo]

Tough As Nails—Cowboy Like Me!

thinking about cowboy!simon riley… | part four |

<- previous

The beginning of August usually brings the peak of summer warmth, but unfortunately for you, it seems the end of July supplied the real heat—just not in the ways you had expected. 

Even all of two weeks after your encounter with Sam, you seethed. Harsh anger and heat spread through your being, boding for a tiny little catalyst to ignite your flame. And you weren't the only one feeling the feverish heat.

To say that Simon was angry would be a gross understatement. A storm has been brewing inside him ever since he pulled up to that shitty dive-bar, seeing you sitting on the dirty curb, smudged mascara dripping down your plump cheek, tainting your beautiful face, eyes blood-shot and swollen. Your voice strained and cracked as you said his name, questioning if it was really him. 

The real nail on the coffin was what you had confessed to him in his truck. Sam had insinuated you were a slut. Simon's muscles tightened, and his jaw clenched every time he remembered what that deprived asshole told you. The only reason he didn't flip the truck around and speed back to that dive-bar, grab Sam's sorry-ass out of the seat he sit in, and slam him into the wall, was because you had pleaded he didn't.

He was gracious to you by respecting your wishes, but this ordeal festered in him too much to leave it untouched. Simon was a God-damn machine with no impulse control. A loose-canon. And this canon was ready to blow right through that city-slicking prick's front-fucking-door. 

Which was preciously what he did.

Simon threw himself inside his truck at about eleven at night, a Manila folder tucked gently away in his jacket, not even bothering to strap on his safety belt as he drove to that bastard's house. Simon hoped, prayed, that Sam was asleep so that he could be the one to jerk him out of his peaceful slumber and make him wonder if he was in a nightmare. 

He halted as his truck brushed against the curb in front of his house, turning off his engine and stepping out of the truck. He scoffed as he took in the sight of the house. It was huge, no, enormous. Creamy, muted blue paint coated the paneled front and sides of the house, and a classic picket white fence encased the backyard. 

Two white Range Rovers and a white Porche sat in the driveway, along with two golf carts sequestered to the right side of the house. Simon noticed the Porsche's shit parking job and dirt-covered windows and noted it was Sam's car, just for future reference. 

After his observations, he casually strolled up to the front door, pressing a little bell encased in a palm leaf cover. It didn't take long for Simon to hear the soft pad of feet descending down what he assumed was a staircase. 

The door swung open to reveal a disheveled Sam; clearly, he was asleep. Simon smiled internally. Sam's eyes looked like saucers when he realized it was Simon. His face paled like he had seen a ghost or something.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Sam spit, perplexed at Simon's presence.

"Came to chat," Simon says cooly. "Preferably outside."

"Fuck no." Sam gnarls. "You need to leave my property."

"Ah." Simon tuts as he reaches into his jacket to grab the nicely tucked-away Manila folder. He carefully opens it and reads the first couple of lines. 

"Ryan Jennings worked for Capitol Guild Investment Firm before it was found he had embezzled a million—"

"Hey, hey. Where the hell did you get that?" Sam quickly supplied, stepping away from the door to try and snatch the folder from Simon's grasp. Simon jerked away from him, holding his finger up as he continued reading. 

"—dollars from the firm's clientele, though no legal action was taken, Jennings was to return all assets, estimating one million dollars, and issue his resignation promptly." Simon neatly closed the folder, eyeing Sam.

"So, as I said," Simon began. "Let's talk outside." Sam sighed deeply before turning to close the door gently.

"I have my resources." Simon casually says, stepping into the grass on the front lawn, with Sam following suit.

"So, what, what do you want? Money?" Sam timidly asks, running his hands through his hair.

Simon lets out a gruff laugh. "Money? You think I want money?" 

"You don't?" Sam questions, unable to believe a man like Simon could be doing this for more than monetary gain.

"You don't talk to her. Ever." Simon roughly says as a sly smirk spreads across Sam's face.

"Is it that good?" Sam smugly asks, placing his hands in his sweatpants pockets.

"The fuck you talkin' about?" Simon cocks his head, narrowing his eyes at Sam. 

Sam shrugs. "Her pussy."

Without warning, Simon lunged forward, his fist aiming straight at Sam's jaw. An immediate stinging pain spread that radiated through his face and head, making him falter back. Blood seeped out of his mouth, and a faint ringing noise could be heard in his ear. But, he quickly gained momentum, his own fist coiling like a spring.

He unexpectedly connected his punch to Simon's face head-on with a swift, decisive motion. Busting his bottom lip, with blood seeping down his chin and jaw. Simon quickly spit out some extra blood onto the grass before grabbing Sam by his shirt. 

"I know guys like you." Simon roughly says, his own blood and spit spurting onto Sam's face. "Pretentious little bastards who only think about themselves." 

He gripped his shirt tighter, making him slightly hover above the grass. "I bet you'd blow yourself if you could." He grits out, forcefully throwing him onto the ground.

"Stay the fuck away from her." Simon wipes his lips with the back of his hand as he turns to go to his truck.

"You know I'm not like that anymore," Sam speaks, making Simon roll his eyes. Simon turns to face Sam, who is still on the ground.

"You can change your name. Run from the city with your tail between your legs, but nothin' can change the greedy fuckin' animal you are." 

With that, Simon turned away and went straight for his truck, leaving Sam to sulk with the ants.

On the drive back to the ranch, Simon regretted not doing more to Sam, but Sam had a worse punishment than Simon releasing his venom on him: living the rest of his life as a nobody with his legacy cloaked in disgrace. 

Simon pulled up in front of his house, hissing as the cold air brushed against his busted lip, as he stepped out of his truck. He pulled open his front door to meet you sitting on the couch in the living room. 

"You haven't been answering your phone." You somberly say from your position on the couch, not noticing his busted lip and bruised face because it was dim where he stood.

"I know." He ducked his head, not moving closer to you, not wanting you to see him so clearly in the light.

"Come here." You pat the cushion next to you, tilting your head as he turns to go to the kitchen instead. You stand, following him to the kitchen, observing him as he fills a glass full of water at the sink, his back to you.

"You should be asleep," He gruffly says, taking a sip of the water, swirling it in his mouth to remove some of the coppery taste, and spitting it into the sink.

"Don't change the subject." You scowl, moving closer to him, bringing your hand to touch his own gently.

"Why won't you look at me?" He takes another sip of water, this time swallowing it.

"Cowboy?" You softly urge, your fingers gently brushing his forearm. He takes a deep sigh, though his lip quirks at your nickname.

"Please look at me." There is a pleading note in your voice. He takes a longer sip of the water, swallowing, before slowly turning to face you. Your eyes widen as you observe the purple bruises covering various parts of his face, his busted lips caked in dry blood, and the blood dripping down his chin and jaw pooling onto his shirt.

"What happened?" You quietly question, raising your hand to brush your fingers along his lip delicately.

"Ah, just some shit." He vaguely says. You narrow your eyes at him, but you see it in his eyes. He was tired. Worn-out. It could wait until tomorrow, you thought.

"Okay. I won't push tonight, but tomorrow, we will talk about it." You affirm, giving his arm a soft squeeze. He nods as you grab his hand, lacing your fingers and dragging him into the bathroom.

"In the meantime, let's get you cleaned up."

You made him sit on the toilet seat as you reached under the sink to grab an emergency kit. You opened the kit and grabbed some alcohol and some gauze. 

"Si, you need stitches." You say, observing a muscle of his lip sticking out.

"You can do it." He assures, looking up at you. 

"Last time I checked, I don't have a medical degree." You laugh out.

"It's easy. Just need some dental floss and a needle." He reaches into the kit and grabs a needle, bending it into an arc, and a pack of dental floss. "Learned it in the military."

"You were in the military?" You question washing your hands before taking the needle and cleaning it with some alcohol to sterilize it. 

"Course I was." You smiled down at him as you wiped his lip with some alcohol.

"How long?" You ask, throwing away the cotton pad.

"Long time." He vaguely answers with a slight smile.

"You're always so vague." You roll your eyes as you step between his legs, bringing your hand up to grip under his chin, tilting it up slightly. He brought his hands to rest on the sides of your thighs, lightly massaging the fat.

You hold the sides of his lips together, carefully suturing the skin back together. You had no idea what you were doing, but Simon didn't say anything, so you assumed you were doing alright. 

Simon flinched as the needle pierced his skin, coming in and out of his lip. His eyes fell shut as you worked, occasionally twitching, his hands still kneading your thighs. 

Once you finished, you cleaned up the area, put away the kit, and threw away the needle. 

"Forgot somethin.'" Simon huffed, still sitting on the toilet seat. You raised your brow, giving him a curious look.

"What?" You question, leaning against the counter facing him, your hands on your hips.

He pressed his pointer fingers to his lip, slightly puckering them. You brought your hand up to cover your mouth as you let out a laugh, walking over to him and pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I could use some more." His lips form a smirk, just beckoning you.

"Ya, I bet you could."

a/n: idk why i include an authors note bc i literally don’t say anything interesting

divider!

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[fatehbaz]

patience being tested. being forced by a bizarre unfortunate situation to adhere to university requirement technicality by taking this simple basic elementary "introduction to environmental history" class.

this class is from facilitators/program which do, like, "history of the American frontier" or "history of fishing and hunting" and still basically subscribe to that old-school twentieth-century idealization and celebration of characters like Teddy Roosevelt and reverence for a mythical arc-of-history-bent-towards-justice narrative of the often-clumsy but ultimately-benevolent US federal government and its mission to "save nature" through the miracle of "sustained yield," while heroic federal land management agencies and "heritage" institutions lead to way, staffed by exceptional individuals (appeals to nostalgia for the frontier and an imagined landscape of the American West; ego-stroking appeals to flattering self-image that center the environmentalist or academic). where they invoke, y'know, ideas like "ecology is important because don't you enjoy cross-country skiing in The Woods with your niece and nephew? don't you like hunting and fishing?" which makes it feel like a time capsule of appeals and discourses from the 1970s. and it invokes concept of "untouched wilderness" (while eliding scale of historical Indigenous environmental relationships and current ongoing colonial violence/extractivism). but just ever-so-slightly updated with a little bit of chic twenty-first-century flair like a superficial land acknowledgement or a reference to "labor histories" or "history from below," which is extra aggravating when the old ideologies/institutions are still in power but they're muddying the water and diluting the language/frameworks (it's been strange, watching words like "multispecies" and "Anthropocene" over the years slowly but surely show-up on the posters, fliers, course descriptions, by now even appearing adjacent to the agri-business and resource extraction feeder programs, like a recuperation or appropriation.) even from a humanities angle, it's still, they're talking at me like "You probably didn't know this, but environmental history is actually pretty entangled with political and social events. In fact, we can synthesize sources and glean environmental info from wacky places like workers' rolls in factories, ship's logs, and poetry from the era." and i'm nodding like YEP.

the first homework assignment is respond to this: "Define and describe 'the Anthropocene'. Do you think 'the Anthropocene' is a useful concept? Why or why not?" Respond in 300 words.

so for fun, right now in class, going to see how fast i can pull up discussion of Anthropocene-as-concept solely from my old posts on this microblogging site.

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ok, found some

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I think that the danger in any universal narrative or epoch or principle is exactly that it can itself become a colonizing force. [...] I’m suspicious of the Anthropocene as concept for the very reason that it subsumes so many peoples, nations, histories, geographies, political orders. For that reason, I think ideas like the Anthropocene can be a useful short-hand for a cluster of tangible things going on with the Earth at the moment, but we have to be very careful about how fluid and dynamic ideas become concretized into hegemonic principles in the hands of researchers, policymakers, and politicians. There’s so much diversity in histories and experiences and environmental realities even between relatively linked geographies here in Canada [...]. Imagine what happens when we try to do that on a global scale - and a lot of euro-western Anthropocene, climate change and resilience research risks doing that - eliding local specificities and appropriating knowledge to serve a broader euro-western narrative without attending to the inherent colonial and imperial realities of science and policy processes, or even attending to the ways that colonial capitalist expansion has created these environmental crises to begin with. While we, as a collective humanity, are struggling with the realities of the Anthropocene, it is dangerous to erase the specific histories, power-relations, political orders that created the crisis to begin with. So, I’m glad that a robust critique of the Anthropocene as a concept is emerging.

Text by: Words of Zoe Todd, as interviewed and transcribed by Caroline Picard. “The Future is Elastic (But it Depends): An Interview with Zoe Todd.” 23 August 2016.

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The Great Acceleration is the latest in a series of human-driven planetary changes that constitute what a rising chorus of scientists, social scientists, and humanists have labeled the Anthropocene - a new Age of Humans. [...] But what the Anthropocene label masks, and what the litany of graphs documenting the Great Acceleration hide, is a history of racial oppression and violence, along with wealth inequality, that has built and sustained engines of economic growth and consumption over the last four centuries. [...] The plantation, Sidney Mintz long ago observed, was a “synthesis of field and factory,” an agro-industrial system of enterprise [...]. Plantation legacies, along with accompanying strategies of survival and resistance, dwell in the racialized geographies of the United States’ and Brazil’s prison systems. They surface in the inequitable toxic burdens experienced by impoverished communities of color in places like Cancer Alley, an industrial corridor of petrochemical plants running along the Mississippi River from New Orleans to Baton Rouge, where cotton was once king. And they appear in patterns of foreign direct investment and debt servitude that structure many land deals in the Caribbean, Brazil, and sub-Saharan Africa [...]. [C]limatologists and global change scientists from the University of London, propose instead 1610 as a date for the golden spike of the Anthropocene. The date marked a detectable global dip in carbon dioxide concentrations, precipitated, they argue, by the death of nearly 50 million indigenous human inhabitants [...]. The degradation of soils in the tobacco and cotton-growing regions in the American South, or in the sugarcane growing fields of many Caribbean islands, for example, was a consequence of an economic and social system that inflicted violence upon the land and the people enslaved to work it. Such violent histories are not so readily evident in genealogies that date the Anthropocene’s emergence to the Neolithic Revolution 12,000 years ago, the onset of Europe’s industrial revolution circa 1800, or the Trinity nuclear test of 1945. Sugarcane plantations were already prevalent throughout the Mediterranean basin during the late middle ages. But it was during the early modern era, and specifically in the Caribbean, where the intersection of emerging proto-capitalist economic models based on migratory forced labor (first indentured servitude, and later slavery), intensive land usage, globalized commerce, and colonial regimes sustained on the basis of relentless racialized violence, gave rise to the transformative models of plantations that reshaped the lives and livelihoods of human and non-human beings on a planetary scale. [...] We might, following the lead of science studies scholar Donna Haraway and anthropologist Anna Tsing, more aptly designate this era the Plantationocene. [...] It is also an invitation to see, in the words of geographer Laura Pulido, “the Anthropocene as a racial process,” one that has and will continue to produce “racially uneven vulnerability and death." [...] And how have such material transformations sustained global flows of knowledge and capital that continue to reproduce the plantation in enduring ways?

Text by: Sophie Sapp Moore, Monique Allewaert, Pablo F. Gomez, and Gregg Mitman. "Plantation Legacies." Edge Effects. 22 January 2019. Updated 15 May 2021. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

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Geologists and other scientists will fight over [the definition of the beginning start-date of the Anthropocene] in scientific language, seeking traces of carbon dioxide that index the worst offenses of European empire which rent and violated the flesh, bodies, and governance structures of Indigenous and other sovereign peoples in the name of gold, lumber, trade, land, and power. [...] The stories we tell about the origins of the Anthropocene implicate how we understand the relations we have with our surrounds. In other words, the naming of the Anthropocene epoch and its start date have implications not just for how we understand the world, but this understanding will have material consequences, consequences that affect body and land.

Text by: Heather Davis and Zoe Todd. On the Importance of a Date, or Decolonizing the Anthropocene. ACME An International Journal for Critical Geographies. December 2017. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

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From Aime and Suzanne Cesaire, C. L. R. James, Claudia Jones, Eduoard Glissant, through Sylvia Wynter, Christina Sharpe, and so many others, critical anticolonial and race theory has been written from the specific histories that marked the Black Atlantic. [...] Glissant also reminds us, secondly, of how cunning the absorptive powers of [...] liberal capitalism are - how quickly specific relations are remade as relations-erasing universal abstractions. [...] This absorptive, relations-erasing universalism is especially apparent in some contemporary discourses of […] liberalism and climate collapse - what some call the Anthropocene - especially those that anchor the crisis in a general Human calamity which, as Sylvia Wynter has noted, is merely the name of an overdetermined and specific [White] European man. […] [T]he condition of creating this new common European world was the destruction of a multitude of existing black and brown worlds. The tsunami of colonialism was not seen as affecting humanity, but [...] these specific people. They were specific - what happened to them may have been necessary, regrettable, intentional, accidental - but it is always them. It is only when these ancestral histories became present for some, for those who had long benefitted from the dispossession [...], that suddenly the problem is all of us, as human catastrophe.

Text by: Elizabeth Povinelli. “The Ancestral Present of Oceanic Illusions: Connected and Differentiated in Late Toxic Liberalism.” e-flux Journal Issue #112. October 2020.

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The narrative arc [of White "liberal humanism"] [...] is often told as a kind of European coming-of-age story. […] The Anthropocene discourse follows the same coming-of-age [...] script, searching for a material origin story that would explain the newly identified trajectory of the Anthropos […]. Sylvia Wynter, W.E.B. DuBois, and Achille Mbembe all showed how that genealogy of [White subjecthood] was [...] articulated through sixteenth- through nineteenth-century [historiographies and discourses] in the context of colonialism, [...] as well as forming the material praxis of their rearrangement (through mining, ecological rearrangements and extractions, and forms of geologic displacements such as plantations, dams, fertilizers, crops, and introduction of “alien” animals). […] As Wynter (2000) commented, “The degradation of concrete humans, that was/is the price of empire, of the kind of [Eurocentric epistemology] that underlies it” (154).

Text by: Kathryn Yusoff. “The Inhumanities.” Annals of the American Association of Geographers, Volume 11, Issue 3. November 2020.

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As Yarimar Bonilla suggests in regard to post-Irma-and-Maria Puerto Rico, “vulnerability is not simply a product of natural conditions; it is a political state and a colonial condition.” Many in the Caribbean therefore speak about the coloniality of disaster, and the unnaturalness of these “natural” disasters [...]. Others describe this temporality by shifting [...] toward an idea of the Plantationocene [...]. As Moore and her colleagues write, “Plantation worlds, both past and present, offer a powerful reminder that environmental problems cannot be decoupled from histories of colonialism, capitalism, and racism that have made some human beings more vulnerable [...].” [W]e see that contemporary uneven socioecologies associated with the rise of the industrial world ["the Anthropocene"] are based [...] also on the racialized denial and foreshortening of life for the sacrificial majority of black, brown, and Indigenous people and their relegation to the “sacrifice zones” of extractive industry. [...] [A]ny appropriate response to the contemporary climate emergency must first appreciate its foundations in the past history of the violent, coercive, transatlantic system of plantation slavery; in the present global uneven development, antiblackness, and border regimes that shape human vulnerability [...] that continues to influence who has access to resources, safety, and preferable ecologies [...] and who will be relegated to the “plantation archipelagoes” (as Sylvia Wynter called them) [...].

Text by: Mimi Sheller. “Thinking Beyond Coloniality: Toward Radical Caribbean Futures.” Small Axe (2021), 25 (2 (65)), pages 169-170. Published 1 July 2021. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

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Indigenous genocide and removal from land and enslavement are prerequisites for power becoming operationalized in premodernity [...]; it was/is a means to operationalize extraction (therefore race should be considered as foundational rather than as periphery to the production of those structures and of global space). [...] Wynter suggests that we […] consider 1452 as the beginning of the New World, as African slaves are put to work on the first plantations on the Portuguese island of Madeira, initiating the “sugar-slave” complex - a massive replantation of ecologies and forced relocation of people […]. Wynter argues that the invention of the figure of Man in 1492 as the Portuguese [and Spanish] travel to the Americas instigates at the same time “a refiguring of humanness” in the idea of race. [...] The natal moment of the 1800 Industrial Revolution, […] [apparently] locates Anthropocene origination in […] the "new" metabolisms of technology and matter enabled by the combination of fossil fuels, new engines, and the world as market. […] The racialization of epistemologies of life and nonlife is important to note here […]. While [this industrialization in the nineteenth century] […] undoubtedly transformed the atmosphere with […] coal, the creation of another kind of weather had already established its salient forms in the mine and on the plantation. Paying attention to the prehistory of capital and its bodily labor, both within coal cultures and on plantations that literally put “sugar in the bowl” (as Nina Simone sings) […]. The new modes of material accumulation and production in the Industrial Revolution are relational to and dependent on their preproductive forms in slavery […]. In 1833, Parliament finally abolished slavery in the British Caribbean, and the taxpayer payout of £20 million in “compensation” [paid by the government to slave owners for their lost "property"] built the material, geophysical (railways, mines, factories), and imperial infrastructures of Britain and its colonial enterprises and empire. [...] A significant proportion of funds were invested in the railway system connecting London and Birmingham (home of cotton production and […] manufacturing for plantations), Cambridge and Oxford, and Wales and the Midlands (for coal). Insurance companies flourished [...]. The slave-sugar-coal nexus both substantially enriched Britain and made it possible for it to transition into a colonial industrialized power […]. The slave trade […] fashioned the economic conditions (and institutions, such as the insurance and finance industries) for industrialization.

Text by: Kathryn Yusoff. "White Utopia/Black Inferno: Life on a Geologic Spike". e-flux Journal Issue #97. February 2019. [Bold emphasis added by me.]

[formulanni]

🐎‼️

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls @brawngp2009

[revvethasmythh]

*shaking you by the shoulders* don’t you understand that Relvin Temult's life is a tragedy?? The he knew Liliana was going to go somewhere else one day but he thought he'd be enough for her to want him with her and then he wasn't and she slipped away piece by piece until she was gone?? that he didn't want Imogen to be haunted by the same things as her mother but was utterly powerless to stop it and thought the best he could do was shield her from the little information he DID know before whatever got ahold of Liliana sunk its claws into her too?? that he watched imogen slip away, piece by piece and then all at once, just like her mother, and now there's no need for extra kitchen chairs because there's no one to have dinner with anymore so why bother??? have you read Our Wives Under The Sea????? You understand

[peacockrulz]

back on my shit

bonus: it worked (idea by my brother n friends lol)

[yeet-noir]

I know Felix's dad is American, but during their interpretative story did they really have to make him a cowboy SCREAMING

[hallowshumour]

Design update for an old dino oc of mine, mesa. 🏜🛸🦖🌶

[mrtequilasunset]

The Sheriff's grasp on Hanky code is loose at best

[tinycowboyart]

Save a horse ride a cowboy <3

[hawkeyeslaughter]

the fact that radar clarifies to henry that pierce and mcintyre are hawkeye and trapper respectively despite that fact that henry almost always refers to them as pierce and mcintyre implies the fact that henry rarely remembers who has the last name pierce and who has the last name mcintyre , and the only explanation i can draw from that is that hawkeye fully just responds to the name ‘ mcintyre ‘ as though someone were talking to him and trapper does the same thing with the name ‘ pierce ‘ , therefore th

[wittymumbledon]

Hello! Hey, would you be so kind to draw young stanford and young fiddleford as space cowboys?

(Here's some refs that show a bit better what I wanted ya to go for)

I love 19th century clothes in all their varieties and I love retro scifi (wouldn't have started my comic if I didn't fhdhjdhjdfhj) - and clearly i've been aching for more cowboy art (and for another excuse to draw college era fidds) - cause this was really fun HGDFGHDGH

Hope I did your idea justice!

[elguritch-art]

more post session brainworms of the cowboy, things have not in fact gotten better and he's in fact more tired then he's ever been every single week <3 now with added trauma triggering!

Virgil Lawrence | He/Him | 212 Years Old | Ex-Sabbat Brujah Vampire

Session/Image Context below:

finally got his coterie mate's crazy tremere ex dead and gone, and then had to listen to a baby sabbat brujah's entire life and family collapse around her. also he got a new knife for free (by being stabbed)!

PoV you're the Boston Prince (who totally deserved this) and have been in office 100 years after your predecessor was also killed by being thrown off a building by the same cowboy.

PoV you're a coterie member who pissed off the already EXTREMELY on edge and furious brujah by rebuking his attempts to suicide bait you and he just drew his 10+ pool revolver.

damn hard to stay keeping it together when you see and hear the ghosts of your kindred loved ones all around you all the time and in the words spoken by those around you, without anyone meaning to do it

[rustedleopard]

I know that it's common fanon belief to see Starlo as the younger sibling between him and Orion, but I actually like the idea of Starlo being the older brother and what it means for his family dynamic. Generally, the older sibling is expected to be the more responsible and mature sibling in the family. There's this expectation that the older sibling sets an example for the younger sibling(s) and that they'll look after the family/business once the parents get too old to do so themselves. So, what does it mean when the older sibling sorta betrays those familial expectations by behaving immaturely and ditching the family to do their own thing?

I'm trying to figure out how to put this into words in a clear and concise way, but I feel like if it's a case of Starlo being the younger brother, then there's this sorta "Ah, that's just the younger brother acting like a kid, y'know how it is. He'll grow out of it" dynamic, whereas if Starlo is the older brother, then it's more of a "Okay, he should've grown out of this by now, why's he still acting like this? Even Orion is more mature than him; what is going on?" sorta deal. (This frustration would be especially felt by Orion, who has to pick up Starlo's slack in his stead because his older brother isn't mature enough to work like he's supposed to!!!)

These are just personal musings, don't take my word as gospel! You can still do tons of interesting things with the Sunnyside family while having Starlo be the younger brother and Orion the older one. I just find myself gravitating more towards seeing Starlo as the older sibling.