Stranger Things
Game of Thrones Daily
No title available
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
hello vonnie
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
h
Love Begins
occasionally subtle
Discoholic 🪩
$LAYYYTER
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Keni
Cosimo Galluzzi
Claire Keane
No title available
Sweet Seals For You, Always
tumblr dot com
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
we're not kids anymore.
seen from Ireland
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Morocco
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Mexico
@spaces0ngs
# 𝑺𝑷𝑨𝑪𝑬𝑺0𝑵𝑮𝑺: an original character set in the genre of SPACE WESTERN, inspired by media like COWBOY BEBOP, TRIGUN, TREASURE PLANET & other retro futurism.
a study in: space cowboys, running from your past, survivor's guilt, found family, trying to clear your good name.
CARRD
wooo sorry for disappearing ! i am now in italy
my true calling is coming on here after a break and sending everyone nasty sinday memes from iris
my last exam tomorrow !
cowboy iris cowboy iris cowboy iris
hey this is late bc i haven't logged onto this blog for like 3 weeks but SMASH OR PASH + STINE
❛ given the chance i would climb stine like a tree . don't know the logistics of it, but if they want i'll make it work. ❜ they salute for good measure .
The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas (1982)
Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just
That’s a gun
so true !! but iris is willing to take penance on their knees
THEY JUST FINISHED A SET, an old earth ditty, singing up on the makeshift stage with a couple of the saloon girls dancing a sort of cancan in their bright skirts and corsets. they haven't been doing this for long, the whole performance thing their parents weren't too convinced on it, despite running the saloon, but what else was there to do in this blasted town ? and iris liked it, the fabrics, the colours, the cheers and the drinks and they were not piss - poor at it, not at all. but so the latter part of the night finds them, mingling with some patrons as they drink, helping pick up the empty glasses. their eyes though, well, they stay flicking back to one person, a newcomer.
there are many benefits to being the fancier place in town, privileges other people didn't get that iris grew up knowing, but probably one of the best is colour pictures. and iris would recognise that blonde hair and red coat anywhere, after spending so long pouring over bounty posters and imagining a life very different to the one they have now. THAT'S WHAT FINDS THEM TROTTING UP TO HIM ON THEIR HEELS, golden locks bouncing and, well, they're not pulling off the seductive act as they should, but there is more raw interest there as they pop up by his side. ❛ i could pour you a hurricane or would you like a typhoon instead ? ❜
@humanitysong
❛ hey HEY !! settle down . ❜ they push through the crowd adeptly, acting much older than they are, but everyone knows the child of the owners so they step back down, murmuring under their breaths. everyone comes here to drink, and if you piss the golden child off . . . well, safe to say you won't be getting any beer around these parts. ❛ are you okay, sweet thing ? ❜ they have to bend down a little to talk to the newcomer, with their tall heels and all, but manage to herd them away from the milling patrons. its a practiced move; every now and then a stranger comes by who doesn't really fit in, and the saloon girls have to de-escalate the situation.
❛ i'm sorry about all of this. would you like a drink, sweetie ? ❜ they ask, skilfully weaving them through until they're at a deserted table.
@knaivcs
fuck it who wants a starter from cowgirl saloon dancer iris. like this
IRIS LAUGHS AT THAT, an airy giggle against the fluffy top of shrike’s hair. dressed up like this they always get a bit of a persona to them, less the hardened outlaw and more something of years past — a beloved and spoiled child who liked to dance in pretty skirts and get whatever they wanted. “ mhm, you’re right ! but being too much is the point of this, darlin’. ” it’s cute how shrike buries his face in the swell of their cleavage, pushed up by the corset. it sends a warmth down their back, too. “ it’s okay, i’ll fight off anyone who looks at you weird. how does that sound ? ”
@butchersbird / x .
the dolly parton-ification of iris
@spaces0ngs asked: “ at least i have you here to look after me, right? “ | (original meme)
Shrike cuffs the back of their head, strong enough to knock their hat off their head but not quite strong enough to really hurt. He might be pissed, but he's not that pissed. If that gunfight had been any worse though, Shrike might've done all their opponents' work for them by throttling his friend for getting themself into trouble.
"Yeah, you're real fucking lucky," he mutters, brows wrinkling together as he guides himself and Iris to the ground. Patching open wounds out in the desert is not exactly Shrike's ideal, but they had to leave the last town pretty fast. While Atlantica watches curiously and snuffles Iris's hair (and that's how Shrike knows it must've been bad if even the goddamn horse is worried), he uncorks the cheap whiskey they keep on-hand for this exact purpose. The acrid stench stings his nose, his whole face scrunching up like he just bit into something sour. "You've gotta stop doing this to me. I'm gonna end up dying of a heart attack."
He goes quiet then, setting about disinfecting Iris's injuries with a gentleness paradoxical to his sharp tongue. His eyes, however, are intensely focused on his hands, trying to be as careful as he can be. He doesn't want to hurt them anymore than the world already has. Briefly, those hazel eyes meet theirs: angry, as usual when this sort of thing happens, but soft—tender even, if that's something Shrike still remembers how to be.
"What would you do without me?"
THEY TRY TO KEEP THEIR REACTIONS AT BAY. but the whiskey pouring over the gunshot graze on their arm stings like a bitch, and they can't help but hiss through clenched teeth. the scolding is welcome, though iris will never admit it, because they are used to it. memories of tommy flash in their mind, who never finished his med degree but would grumble and insult them and aya under his breath as he used the most gentle touch to clean their wounds. jane was always sensible; jane never got in trouble. she was the one to welcome them back with open arms and coo at her little troublemakers while tommy prepared to have the worst bedside manner known to man. ❛ dead, probably, ❜ they answer with a smile FAR TOO CHEERY, as if they weren't on the verge of fainting just now. especially when that statement is not altogether unlikely.
they catch shrike's hand, a loose fist around his wrist. when they attempt the smile their black eye stings something crazy, and split lip pulls enough to bloody up again. shit. ❛ i'm sorry. really, i didn't mean to. s'just my face, y'know ? always begging for a punch. ❜
they hate to be a nuisance, they hate to make shrike worry. shrike worries enough already, for the both of them. he has this little pinch between his brows, one that makes him seem weary of the world, and iris knows that he probably is and for good reason. IRIS IS ALWAYS LIKE THIS. too much, too big of a liability. and yet people always do this for them, when they should just drop their ass instead. so they look at shrike with stars in their eyes because they do not deserve this.
when iris isn't taping they're literally built like a P
❝ this is quite the shindig you’ve got going on. ❞ (from Vash)
❛ hm ? ❜ THEY POP A HIP COQUETTISHLY, flipping a lock of long curly blonde hair over a shoulder. they balance a tray on their hand in a practiced way, weaving in between the drunken patrons. to a traveller, it must be a bit of an oasis, a saloon so bright and cheerful in the middle of a town that has seen better days. ❛ thank you, you should see us during a week day. totally full ! with line dancing competitions, too, ❜ they sidle closer, preparing to convince the newcomer into taking one of the drinks on the tray, before recognition blooms on their features and they deftly skip away before vash the stampede's hands can close around the beer.
❛ wait a second ! i know who you are, mister. ❜ brightly-coloured lips pull into a frown. ❛ i don't care if your criminal record is longer than the bible but i do care about how everyone knows you never cough up your double dollars ! no alcohol for you if you don't pay, got it ? ❜
