Thinking hardcore abt Ex-convict turned cowboy Simon or Toji, out in the field like itās just another Tuesday.
Sunās high, wifebeater stuck to their back and chest from sweat, thin cotton doing nothing to hide the way their shoulders flex when they lift a feed sack. A straw tucked between their teeth, chewing on it absentmindedly while the chickens crowd their dirty boots.
Then they open the gates and rounds up the horses with a low whistle and a lazy wave. Thick, bulging muscles on display without them trying, dirt on their jeans, and that stoic look on their face.
They donāt rush the job, its not like them. They work slow and focused. They take this cowboy shit seriously.














