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More 'please draw my bike as a horse' commissions from yesterday! Although a lot of bikes look similar in colours, it's always nice when people tell me about how they see their bike so I can pick out a breed and personality.
Horse breeds & backstories for these under the cut:
The first commissioner said they imagined their bike as stocky draft horse because the bike is built solid and super heavy and durable. I picked a Clydesdale:
Here's a Clydesdale draft horse! I went with a brown horse and brown bags with black tack, to match the style of the really strong and durable horses that pull carts. This one's in a more ceremonial get-up, similar to the drafts that pull parade floats and such. I hope you like him!
The second bike's owner said that the brake cables had been modified: "the bike brakes like sh*t and I always crash into others when they brake in front of me. It's a bit dangerous bike, but still love it". I went with a Thoroughbred.
Racehorse!! I think a bike with brake issues is very Thoroughbred coded. I gave them a bit of a mischievous expression and the hot pink accents on the bike for the saddle and leg wraps. I hope you enjoy!
They even drew my design afterward, which I think is so cute...
The last one is a tribute to a bike that the owner no longer owns since they got a car. I wanted something springy and elegant:
The Kent Northwoods Springdale feels like a very classic, elegant sort of bike, so I went with an American Saddlebred. These horses have a really distinct, really high head + neck carriage. They've got five different paces, including a special type of pace called the 'rack', and they're shown both saddle-seat and in halters around the ring! It felt like the right vibe. This one has a simple halter and a show cinch on. I hope you're happy with it!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
you ever get brain worms so bad about a game you have to write a poem about it. anyway
(plain text version of all 3 readings below the cut!)
harry:
tasting the ash / that coated the inside of / your lungs on my tongue is / the closest i’ll ever get to worship / i see them now, blooming brighter / than the butts of our cigarettes / i want to sink to my knees, beg forgive- / ness, beg oh god will i ever be the same / after this? i’ve been suffocating in smoke / since sweet oblivion stole the sunrise / this quiet communion will kill us still / in time, i promise; until then ruin / me with your breath, let the golden / glow of your divine innocence / decay in my lungs — i reach out / hold the fragile fluttering cage of / your life and i know, i know / how easily it'd crumple / if i just close my fist
kim:
in your absence, for all / my life, i was told to believe / “blasphemy”; but this will always be / nothing more than watching strangers / living more than me, discarding more / oh, my dear, how little faith i held in you and / me, forgive all my doubt in your hurricane- / self, when your trembling hands hold mine / unknowing, uncaring of all that has come / i realize i never could have predicted you / in the face of something far grander / my lungs long decayed, you revive / sunrises whose brilliance eclipses the / corrupted and cursed, yet still forgiving / over and over and over / faith be damned, i want to guard / whatever it is we’re building / so i promise like a hymn / i will trust you.
together:
tasting the ash in your absence, for all / that coated the inside of my life, i was told to believe / your lungs on my tongue is “blasphemy”; but this will always be / the closest i’ll ever get to worship nothing more than watching strangers / i see them now, blooming brighter living more than me, discarding more / than the butts of our cigarettes oh, my dear, how little faith i held in you and / i want to sink to my knees, beg forgive me, forgive all my doubt in your hurricane- / ness, beg oh god will i ever be the same self, when your trembling hands hold mine / after this? i’ve been suffocating in smoke unknowing, uncaring of all that has come / since sweet oblivion stole the sunrise i realize i never could have predicted you / this quiet communion will still kill us in the face of something far grander, / in time, but until then, please, ruin my lungs long decayed, you revive / me with your breath, let the golden sunrises whose brilliance eclipses the / glow of your divine innocence corrupted and cursed, yet still forgiving / decay in my lungs — i reach out over and over and over / hold the fragile fluttering cage of faith be damned, i want to guard / your life and i know, i know whatever it is we’re building / how easily it’d crumple so i promise like a hymn / if i just close my fist i will trust you.
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
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