#cowboy wilbur

[cyborgblood]

haha first time posting here in 6 months i bring you my cowboy tntduo au which i am also writing a fic for!!

[scivious]

pow pow pow

[heartofwritiing]

Cowboy!lovejoy au where their band/gang name is called the Anvil Cats. They preform throughout different towns at night, rob banks durning the day. One day (hehe) they ride into your town, your father owns the local saloon they happen to be playing for that night. Sitting at the bar, Wilbur sees you cleaning tables and takes an immediate interest in you.

“Well hello there darling, aren’t you a sweet thing?”

A blush rises to your cheeks at the forwardness of this out of town stranger. Theres something about him that underlines the cocky behavior he carries, and you can’t help but be drawn to this mysterious cowboy.

[icyfox17]

NEW BLORBO ALERT

Your honour I've seen two (2) episodes and im in love with him

[im-tempted]

I had to put these somewhere before I exploded

@utahlive s wilbur continues to bounce around my head and I will keep drawing him forever

[the-govern]

Crickets chirp out into the open air and it is the first thing Dream senses when he comes to. He groans softly, waking from his slumber. “Wilbur?” He slurs, the other man's name muffled as he sits up. He sniffles, breathing in harshly as he rubs his eyes.

“Wilbur?” He repeats again, clearer this time though still drowsy. Wilbur is sitting near the campfire, out of his sleeping bag. His figure is illuminated by the orange glow of the flames. It sparks and crackles, as alive as when they made it the afternoon before. Dream stares a little longer. “Wil?” He gets up, pulling himself out of his sleeping bag and resists the urge to slip back in to avoid the cold nip of the air.

“Are you okay?” Dream sits next to Wilbur onto the cool sand, feeling the grains stick to his clothes and fingers.

Nothing.

Dream frowns deeply and places a hand onto Wilbur's shoulder. He waits for one heart beat, and then two.

“Do you regret it?” Wilbur finally speaks. His voice is barely louder than the sparks of amber in front of them or the noise of their horses’ hooves when they shuffle to get more comfortable during the nights. Dream makes a face at that– a sort of grimace, but not just quite.

“Regret what?” Dream prompts, pulling his hand away only to lean his body weight onto Wilbur. The other man lets him and takes a deep breath. Letting the desert air soak into his lungs.

“I mean– this, all of this,” he says vaguely. It doesn't really help Dream understand anymore than he already knows. Wilbur catches onto this but doesn't take the time to elaborate further. He's lucky that Dream is one patient man otherwise he would've left a hell of a long time ago.

“Running away?” The blonde takes a random guess in the dark. It's the only thing he can think of. Apparently he seems to manage to shoot the target right in the bullseye because Wilbur nods.

Ah. So this is what this is about. Dream has to ponder for a second, because he hasn't thought much about it, not really. But ends up shrugging. “I dunno, maybe. But I prefer living this life than the one I had before, don't you?” Wilbur shrugs back in response and keeps staring at the fire. Dream stares at it too. The silence is long and drawn out as he waits for the brunette to say something, anything. It has to be about five minutes before he continues.

“I guess,” Wilbur starts, but trails off quickly. Dream nudges him to keep him from going off track. “I miss my family,” he sighs and this time Dream lets out a verbal ‘ah’.

“They were awful to me, I don't know why I miss them all that much, I reckon they're better off without another mouth to feed.”

Dream doesn't know the proper way to comfort Wilbur. He was a man who was all actions, no words. So instead he slips his warm hand into Wilbur's cold one, giving it a firm squeeze.

[ilovetheminecraft]

WHO WORE IT BETTER

Left: Lovejoy's Wilbur Soot

Right: The Barbie Movie's Ryan Gosling

[cigarette-scented-hotel-rooms]

fuck. i’m down bad for this man.

[kingethera]

This hurts my soul...

Love the music, love the song, love Lovejoy.

But the way he's wearing that hat is hurting my very soul. It is barely hanging on y'all. I know why he'd wear it like this, to show his hair and match the other outfits, but... it looks so funny!

[cyborgblood]

more more more more cowboys

(also my fic is like halfway done 👁 i’ve been working on it for months, just with many. many long breaks in between. i expect it to be around 7-8 chapters!!)

[pennytherose]

y’all I need a writer for Wilbur scoots bursonas to write a smut story for cowboybur with a beard this is not a want this is a need thank youuu…

[radio-to-trenchcoat-demons]

listening to Wilbur's new album....WOWZA love it sm, I love how the album cover is the same colour pallete as Your city gave me asthma!! big fan of around the pomegranate

OH

MY

FUCK

YES

i REALLY REALLY REALLY love around the pomegranate as well

my two other favorites gotta be Amazon Standing Lamp and Melatonin 130

i fugging RESONATE with the meaning of melatonin 130, it hits so close to home ;-;

but MATE, the FOCKING TRANSITIONSSS

Wilbur always did say he never liked that smooth, same consistent vibe of a normal song, like, he liked to change it up, mix it around. Thats what i truly like in his music, i picked that trait up in a few of my own songs but HEE, HE does it best.

brilliant fucking album, love your attention to detail, VERY closely related with the color scheme of ycgma :3

[heartofwritiing]

FIC IDEA

Cowboy!wilbur teaching reader how to ride a horse. Shes always wanted to learn but is too scared so, he pulls her up to saddle with him. They’re so flush together on top of that horse, his hands are holding hers that are holding the reins. when it gets too much for her, like the horse gets slightly spooked by something or she pulls the reins to hard and she gets scared about messing up, he’s in her ear whispering so calmly and sweetly;

“It’s okay darlin’ I got you, see nothing to worry about.”

ahfgddgg

[teddylou]

I’m like a horse, with blinders on, so I don’t have to see the horrors of the world

[the-govern]

Dream is seven when he first runs into Wilbur. A nine year old who has far too much leg in proportion to his body, who doesn't talk all too much either. It confuses him greatly because it is not the silence that portrays a certain shyness or anxiousness, but runs deeper. A silence that has Dream feeling uncomfortable like the older was sucking out the joy in the air just from simply existing. They only bump into each other now and then. Only twice throughout the years do they really interact with each other when they live in the same town and even that’s not much of anything.

The first was when they headed to the water well to fill their bucket to water their crops their family holds in their small backyards. Dream attempts to make idle conversation to pass the time. So, logically, the first thing he asks the older kid is how he’s doing as a formality. And then following, asks about how his brother is faring.

Dream has heard the news from his mother that Wilbur's sibling has fallen terribly ill. She saw it with her own two eyes too, tending to the young chap herself– the only lady in town who had any knowledge in medicine. She had said that his skin was awfully pale, nearly corpse-like even with the insane fever that ran through his body. And of course at a mere seven years old, Dream had no other reaction to give other than basic sympathy. As much as a seven year old could at that age anyways.

Wilbur, in response, snaps back like an angry turtle. He gives him a sharp, "It is none of your business." His words are sharper than the blade Dream sliced himself with just about a year ago. It was when he attempted to peel an apple in one long strip like his father had. Dream is taken aback by the sudden outburst but before he can bite back, Wilbur has turned on his heel and stalked off with his head held up high.

Absolute bastard, Dream thinks. He scowls to himself (though to Wilbur too even if he’s not here anymore). As he takes his bucket off the hook, the water sloshes and some spills onto his tunic. The fabric clings to his skin but the deeper scowl on his face is caused by the slight annoyance. It will dry before sundown, so Dream has no complaints.

Really, even if it is a possibility he may get a scolding for returning late, Dream takes that chance and loiters around the well for longer than necessary. The purpose being to avoid the chance of running into Wilbur on the journey back. His seven year old mind concludes that the other kid, though as pretty as he may be, holds nothing but cruelty and meanness in whatever heart he has. May he even have any heart. Probably not.

The second time Dream bumps into him is when he is thirteen and Wilbur is fourteen, not yet fifteen. Not until a month later at least. This time it is during his father’s funeral, late in the evening. The setting sun still bares down warmly on his neck as the crowd walks to the open field.

The only reason why Wilbur is even here is because the entire town is. Dream would just prefer it if it was just his mother and cat burying his father really. Though his mother said that the rest of the town folk just wanted to pay their respect for the man– a well known and well liked shopkeeper and innkeeper. Dream thinks that is stupid and that this occasion should be kept private. This was a funeral, place of mourning and remembrance (or at least that's what his mother told him when he attended his first funeral a few years back.) It is not just some…thing to gawk at.

Honestly it is not much of an interaction. At most they stand next to each other when the casket is lowered into the ground, Wilbur inclines his head towards Dream as if to say sorry, to give his sympathy. Dream pointedly looks away at his shoes. They are buffed and clean to appear presentable and a week prior they would’ve been scuffed and dirtied with mud and sand. He doesn’t like how they look, feeling the corners of his lips tug down further.

That is that. No more, no less.

[overlordinavoid]

who would like to take away my internet?