izzy's playlists!
Discoholic đȘ©
Fai_Ryy
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Interview Vampire Daily
⣠Chile in a Photography âŁ
Noah Kahan
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Aqua Utopiaïœæ”·ăźćșă§èšæ¶ă玥ă
ojovivo
h
pixel skylines
Keni
RMH
No title available
Cosmic Funnies
Cosimo Galluzzi
todays bird
romaâ
Game Changer & Make Some Noise
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Netherlands
seen from Peru
seen from Switzerland
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Vietnam
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from Germany
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Russia
seen from Morocco
@thingsmycrazycowboyfriendsays
He does Thanksgiving well. Going to the Whitlocke's house in November is probably the best thing to do if you're in Michigan in the winter. Why else would you want to be in that cold state so late in the year?
Stepping in through the front door is like stepping back in time and Jem's pie crust is to die for.
I got a message asking if I'm going this year and I sent him one back saying "sure" and filled up my car.
A GRIPPING TALE TALES: THE FINAL LETTER
     I was Cleopatra, I was taller than the rafters           But thatâs all in the past now, gone with the wind
//
          And I left the footprints, the mud stained on the carpet      And it hardened like my heart did when you left town
( This tale takes place in the alternative and negative version of AGT, where Jeremiah dies and Clarence throws himself into the Huron. )
Driven by The Good Doctor with parts from The Cattleboy, this song and tale mostly takes place as the unwaveringly stubborn and self-hating Good Doctor sends one last letter to The Cattleboy. In it, he acknowledges his mistakes and faults regarding what could have been their love. But he still makes no efforts to move forward with their relationship with Clarence now gone, and instead seems to resign himself â and The Cattleboy in turn â to a lonely death.
The Cattleboy also shares his part in the song as he considers his actions spanning from joining Clarence in his World Ender phase following Jeremiahâs death, all the way to the now empty cabin once heâs in the Huron.
Itâs the final communication between the final two members of the Companions. From this point, The Cattleboy dies alone at the cabin in the Huron. The Good Doctor, A Gripping Taleâs true protagonist, continues to take his Elixir of life. He survives for many decades on and eventually comes to terms with his life. In a good ending for him, perhaps the only good ending for any Companion in this version of the story, he decides to stop taking the Elixir and dies a normal life.
( Full character lyrics below )
Keep reading
 A GRIPPING TALE TALES: DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS
          The strangers in this town      They raise you up just to cut you down
//
     Home at last!           Home at last!
( This tale takes place in both canon AGT and the alternative and negative version of AGT, where Jeremiah dies and Clarence throws himself into the Huron. )
The Companions temporarily and amicably separate when emotions and new desires arrive that drive them in different directions. Clarence and The Cattleboy head North while The Outlaw and The Son head South. Despite The Cattleboyâs efforts, The Good Doctor, alone, decides to head East to New York.
The Cattleboy laments The Good Doctorâs decision to not join him. He wonders why he couldnât have stayed with him, why his love wasnât enough, and why The Good Doctor would choose a city full of strangers over him. Meanwhile, The Good Doctor rejoices being back in the city. Unlike the other companions, he was never meant for the wild.
This song is driven by The Cattleboy, compared to the previous A Gripping Tale Tale (âCleopatraâ) which is driven by The Good Doctorâ a sad letter sent many years later reminiscing on this time when he decided to not go with The Cattleboy. Their time together is a story of missed chances.
( Full character lyrics below )
Keep reading
The Good Doctor/The Cattleboy drabble.
His footsteps barely make a noise on the floor was he walks. Like a ghost, August floats through the house, with skin that is as pale as the white oleander that grows on The Rancherâs California home. His hair is jet black with a softness that is unexpected and as he walks around the house with it loose, since coming back from war, Mateo yearns to have his fingers woven in the strands.
Moving in had been easy. A box that was pushed to the back of the closet held all that he needed; lost things he had left on various visits to his friendâs home. He was glad that his ex husband had gotten rid of the gifts he had bought. It made it easier to move on when just two boxes of clothes and paperwork arrived.
The same routine they had before the war was quickly fallen back into. Mateo would wake early with August, just to spend time with him before he took himself to work, with a promise of a return to bed after August left. It was simple. It was easy.
Neither of them cared to remember why they had been separated. It was like they had never been apart. When August arrived home, he was greeted by a hot dinner and a loving kiss to his cheek. Affection that Mateo had not been able to display in years. Although apart, the other was always in the back of their minds. A taste that lingered long after first bite.
The warmth and silence that surrounded the pair was comforting. Familiar. In time they could easily forget the reason they had parted in the first place.
But nothing lasts forever, Maybe thatâs fate. When youâre alive youâre alright, When youâre dead, youâre a saint.
Two Months Too Late
@thingsmycrazycowboyfriendsays
Clarence stretched his toes out in his boots when they reached the little town. He broke his fingers free of the reigns and hit them on his chest to bring the sensation back before hopping off of Swarm. He heard Mateo emerging from the cart behind him and glanced back. He looked down at him with frost-covered cheeks and eyes as he came closer and grabbed his wrist.
âCareful,â he said. Mateo was always so eager, even when Clarence was exhaustedâ and he wasnât cursed like he was. Clarence nodded towards a swinging light just visible in the distance. He spoke loudly over the wind. âIâm gonna get the gal seen to and grab us a room at the inn. Iâll meet you in there.â
Clarence tugged the horseâs reigns and began to lead her towards the inn. He stopped to look back at Mateo, making sure he made it inside the shop. Once the door was safely closed, he continued on his way.
Letting Mateo go into the shop alone, even for a few minutes while he stabled Swarm, unsettled him. The Michigander still worried for the young boy. He worried about his naivetĂ©. He worried about his friendliness in a world that had already expressed hatred towards himâ Mateo had the marks on his back to show it. The world wasnât kind to white men o his orientation, and someone with Mateoâs shade of skin often found themselves at the business end of danger more often than not. Clarence was glad that they were out of the far South, but they werenât to his private sanctuary at the Huron shore yet.
This was a new town for Clarence. The late season travel forced them to abandon the path they usually took north to Michigan, and he was curious to see what it held. He paid the fees for the inn, stabling, and care of Swarm. He warned the keeper to ensure she was warm and cared for while collecting the keys.
âIs it a good town?â Clarence asked as his left hand took the offered pen. He scrawled his name on the registry book. His scarf was down and exposed the rosiness in his cheeks. His drinkerâs flush mixed with the cold left them looking outright jolly.Â
âItâs not terrible,â the keeper offered.
âWhatâs its status onâŠÂ you know.â Clarence glanced up from the pad and scrunched his nose and eyes, lowering his voice. âStrange folk.â The innkeeper made an oh type of sound and gave a small nod.
âWe donât get a lot of that type through here, but, we ainât never had any trouble with them.â Clarence nodded and pushed the book away. He nodded his head and went back into the storm. He had grown accustomed to it while riding, but the sudden reminder of how bad it was bit hard. Entering the tailor shop he let out a loud sigh of approval and looked around for Mateo.
The shop was warm, warmer than Mateo had been in a fortnight and quickly he had taken off his hat, clutching it in his hand. His hair was long; Jeremiah had joked that he would never be cold with a head of hair such as his.
He hadnât noticed how long Clarence had been, he was enthralled by the beauty of the clothes hanging from the rack. His fingers ran along the flawlessly stitched seams. The owner had been keeping a close eye on him as he walked between the rows of clothes, sure that he would not be able to afford anything.
âYou better not get any of those clothes dirty, boy.â A gruff voice came from the counter. Mateo turned to look at the man standing there, his hand still buried in a fur collar.
âIâm not dirty.â He shot back, digging a hand in his pocket, feeling the coins, guessing how many he had. âIâm looking for something to keep me warm out there.â
âNothing in your price range.â
Mateo glanced over at the door as he heard the bell chime. Clarence had finally arrived, he walked over to him. He motioned to the rack of coats. âLook at those.â
He was prepared for Clarenceâs argument, sure, he could ask Jeremiah to make him a new coat, but that wasnât all that he wanted from here.
âListen, I know you have a bad rap. But sometimes you have to stop saying things that make people think youâre arrogant.â
âYou have a small mentality, and this is why you wonât go far in this competition.â âOkay, you just did the thing I asked you to not to do.â
@quicktongueclarence
1860 - Michigan bound, in Kansas.
Mateo was practically shaking. It was his birthday a week ago, at least in the haze of snow and lack of wriswatches, he thought it was. Every year since he ended up in the back of a wagon, carted around by a tall but thick man and his small, lean partner they had followed the same routine. Go as far south as they can and race the winter up north. His legs were sore from riding for so long and when they finally reached a town he knew just what he was going to treat himself to when he caught glimpse of a tailors.
Licking his lips, he glanced over at the taller man. âAre you going to come wih me to the store or not?â
This is the funniest tweet Iâve read in my whole life.
Mateo Rafael Brisuela - bio
Mateo is the youngest of three brothers; he also has two younger sisters. His father, Guillermo was a builder and his mother, Andrea was a housewife. Born in Tonala, Mexico on 29th October 1854, he travelled north to Texas at the tender age of 13 to work with his brothers on ranches in the state. He was working as a ranch hand along with his brothers in 1869 when he met Clarence and Jeremiah. Speaking no English, Mateo instantly bonded with Jeremiah and the two became close. Clarenceâs Spanish was at a good enough level that he also began to interact with the older of the two and developed a crush on him as they worked through the summer.
Mateo has never made an effort to hide his sexuality and when he was caught in the bedroom of Marcus Morgan, the son of the owner of the ranch; he was sentenced to be whipped. The owner, John Morgan was a homophobic man and took pleasure in beating anyone who violated his code of heterosexuality on the ranch. Clarence was informed about Mateoâs scheduled whipping, by his brothers, and came in and attempted to dissuade John, to no avail. Mateo had been whipped several times before Clarence snapped and drew his gun, shooting John three times in the chest before grabbing Mateo and running.
Mateo followed the pair ever since, with Jem tending to his wounds and helping him stave off infection in their dusty covered wagon. Clarence taught him to read and write English and because of this, Mateoâs pattern of speech is similar to Clarenceâs.
They travelled together for 10 years before Mateo decided that he wanted to find places by himself, or wanted to go to places that Clarence or Jeremiah had no desire to go. They would meet up sporadically until Clarence went to battle.
Mateo is entirely comfortable with his sexuality, when he was younger, would often dress as a woman to get cheaper rates at inns. He had a brief career as a prostitute after he left Clarence and Jeremiahâs side to travel solo; something which Clarence has actively ignored.
Mateo can barely sit still long enough to settle down and grow roots. His wanderlust far surpasses Clarenceâs, and even Clarence struggles to keep up with him sometimes. He is very similar to Clarence and as a result, the two can often be found in a heated disagreement or passionate tiff. The two make up quickly though. Jeremiah is much more of an older brother to Mateo; something that suits them both. Jeremiah always wanted to be a big brother and Mateo has always seen him as a mothering figure. He is incredibly loyal, almost to a fault and will do exactly what his partner will ask of him.
In modern times, he started a relationship with Phillip Byquist, the two had somewhat of a whirlwind romance and live together in a penthouse outside of Detroit. After WWII, he worked as a nursing assistant, at a local hospital, enjoying the caring aspect of the job. He is a very charismatic individual and enjoys other peopleâs company. Currently, he is an executive of his partnerâs company. Â
His favourite food is anything that Jeremiah makes him, as it reminds him of being at home. He is a skilled haggler and has been responsible for getting Clarenceâs books published for 80 years. A gifted musician, Mateo plays the guitar and piano.
you donât know how much someone is worth to you
until you sell them
I did this to my friend once and watched him from a distance to laugh at the confusion on his face
I sent this to him today. I donât think heâll find it as funny as I do.
reblog this if your icon could kill a man
plotting rps like
partner: let's do this
me: i'm ready!
partner: how we startin
me: i wish i knew
He still uses email. I don't use email unless it's to confirm purchases or if it's strictly business. He'll send me an email once a week, updating me on what he's being doing with himself. I can imagine him now, sitting by the bay windows overlooking the lake, trying to figure out his iPad. I got it for him last Christmas and after hours of painstaking tutorials, he ain't bad it all. My workplace has a new initiative where we can't look at our emails on a Friday. I love it. To be honest, his emails are the only reason I check my inbox. He can work a phone well. These new phones are amazing; he sends me essays of text messages and he'll sometimes try to send me photos. He's not so bad for a crazy cowboy friend.
