#brandish bowie

[dridsimsheart]

Everyone is invited to EDGWAVE 2024! Rocking the summer again!

This time, GKOB make their debut at desert bloom park stage, come with us to enjoy some emo gothic music, for all the depressive and rejected kids! at the stage, they showed a bit of their new album demo, exclusive for the fans that rocked with us this night!

liked these songs? they will soon be avaliable on spotify, stay tuned :)

*Crew: Event organization @aniraklova Sound Prod. (Drid) Greatkids Of Billie (Artist) Make-up (Brandish Bowie) Figurine (Emilly O'Reilly) Designer (Victor Elric)

thanks for the event <3 its soo fun and everyone's posts looks amazing!! @aniraklova

[dridsimsheart]

Its time to do that!

George&Matilda:

5. What traits / personality aspects do they like most about their partner? Matilda loves George's activism and will to help the world, and George's loves how caring and smart Matilda is.

8. Where did they have their first date? In a cassino...

14. Do other people approve or disapprove of the relationship? There's always someone to say something, but the important people for them ofc approves!

15. If someone disapproves of the relationship, who is it, and why do they disapprove? George's parents are very strict people and didnt really approved on George dating a trans woman, but George has been ignoring their shit for a long time now.

16. Does the couple care if people disapprove of them being together? OFC NOT!

18. If they’re not married, do they want to be? Maybe in the future!

19. Would they elope, have a small intimate wedding, big fancy wedding, or something else? They plan on having a big fancy wedding!

20. Where would they go on their honeymoon or dream vacation? They want to go to Brazil's north beaches

22. What is their favourite thing to do together? Slow-Dancing

28. How do they show affection for each other? George is always complaning Matilda and bragging about her to his friends, Matilda in the other has a more physical touch language of love, she loves to hug and kiss him whenever she got the chance to.

Giselle&Brandish!

1. Where and how did they meet? Giselle is an actress, Brandish worked as the make-up artist in the play Giselle starred, they met in the backstage as Brandish shoot out compliments while doing Giselle's makeup.

2. Was it love at first sight? YES! Giselle pondered for a long time if she was a lesbian or not, but meeting Brandish ignited something in her! As for Brandish, it was not at first sight, but she surely saw Giselle as a very interesting and pretty woman since the start.

11. Will they stay together for a long time? 'Till death do us apart'

13. Is there a big age difference between the partners, a small difference or are they the same age? Brandish is 27 and Giselle is 23!

17. Are they married? Yes!! They just got married!

21. Do they have any children? Do they want any? Yes! They are mothers to the cute baby Harper!

22. What is their favourite thing to do together? Now, taking care of their daughter.

23. Where is their favourite place to go together? The Shopping Mall!

29. How do they cheer their partner up when they’re sad? Having quality time with each other, watching a movie, baking cookies, doing each other's nails or skincare.

30. Is either of the partners a ‘hopeless romantic’?  Brandish is totally a fairy tale believer!

Sungchan&Vivi

1. Where and how did they meet? At Highschool, after Sungchan moved from Korea. Victor was with his friend crafting necklaces when Sungchan was clumsy and dropped all their beads by accidently hitting the table

3. If it was not love at first sight, how and when did they know it was love? After having a really close and especial friendship for months and really caring into each other deep secrets and struggles

4. What feature(s) do they find most attractive about their partner? Sungchan likes Vivi's freckles and hair, Vivi likes Sungchan's eyes and hands.

6. Do they have any habits their partner finds annoying? Victor doesnt like Sungchan's strictness for some things and Sungchan hates when Victor drinks or smoke.

7. Is there anything about their partner they would like to change? Sungchan wishes Vivi to be more responsible and Vivi wants him to be more carefree and relaxed :/

9. When and where did they have their first kiss? At Sungchan's bedroom! <3

12. Do they have many problems in the relationship or just a few? Or none? Usually, they both started dating too young and grew up knowing each other problems and struggles, but they always can overcome everything.

17. Are they married? Not yet!!!

10. How long have they been together? For five years now.

24. Do they have a song? Apocalypse e Sweet by Cigarretes After Sex <333

25. Do they have any pet names / nicknames for each other? 'Channie' and 'Pup/Jagiya'

26. Are they jealous? A little, not anything obsessive.

27. Is this a first relationship for either of them? Yes!

Questions For OC Couples ♥

1. Where and how did they meet? 2. Was it love at first sight? 3. If it was not love at first sight, how and when did they know it was love? 4. What feature(s) do they find most attractive about their partner? 5. What traits / personality aspects do they like most about their partner? 6. Do they have any habits their partner finds annoying? 7. Is there anything about their partner they would like to change? 8. Where did they have their first date? 9. When and where did they have their first kiss? 10. How long have they been together? 11. Will they stay together for a long time? 12. Do they have many problems in the relationship or just a few? Or none? 13. Is there a big age difference between the partners, a small difference or are they the same age? 14. Do other people approve or disapprove of the relationship? 15. If someone disapproves of the relationship, who is it, and why do they disapprove? 16. Does the couple care if people disapprove of them being together? 17. Are they married? 18. If they’re not married, do they want to be? 19. Would they elope, have a small intimate wedding, big fancy wedding, or something else? 20. Where would they go on their honeymoon or dream vacation? 21. Do they have any children? Do they want any? 22. What is their favourite thing to do together? 23. Where is their favourite place to go together? 24. Do they have a song? 25. Do they have any pet names / nicknames for each other? 26. Are they jealous? 27. Is this a first relationship for either of them? 28. How do they show affection for each other? 29. How do they cheer their partner up when they’re sad? 30. Is either of the partners a ‘hopeless romantic’?  

[rentsturner]

Start To Finish - A.T. - 2

Chapter 2 - a blossoming bond and Halloween antics

chapter 1

a/n: so there should be one more chapter after this, sorry about the wait, I haven’t had much motivation to write recently - hope you enjoy it, let me know what you think!

warnings: swearing, mentions of children, I think that’s it

—3—

The next few weeks are filled with more cute moments as Bowie becomes more comfortable with you and the three of you grow into a little family unit. You have developed a little routine of watching TV in the evenings, you and Alex cuddling up on the couch with Bowie sprawled across one of your laps, depending on who is in the most comfortable position. On occasion he will lie along the top of the sofa, behind your heads, sometimes batting you if he doesn’t feel he’s getting enough attention.

However, this isn’t usually an issue, not when Alex is the most attentive cat dad in the world. Him and Bowie have formed a bond that you wouldn’t ever have expected, and they're practically inseparable. Of course, Bowie loves you too, but he definitely knows that Alex can never deny him anything, and he uses that to his advantage. You often have to stop Alex from giving the kitten more food when he’s already been fed in the morning.

“But he’s hungry! He told me!”

“Alex, he’s a cat, and I already fed him this morning-”

“He gave me the meow, the special food meow, and look his bowl’s empty!”

Alex plays with Bowie as well, utilising all of the toys that he bought him. Bowie’s favourite is a little pink mouse, ironically the most plain and simple toy that he has.

Almost every day, Alex will spend half an hour throwing the mouse down the hallway, giggling like a kid as Bowie runs after the toy, skidding and slipping on the hardwood as he chases it. After a few weeks, Bowie has been trained - Alex jogs into the living room one day, a grin plastered across his face, Bowie trotting behind him.

“Babe, come and look at this-”

“One sec, Al, just let me finish this-”

“No, I’m serious, this is so cool, you’re gonna love it.”

He grabs your hand and pulls you up off the sofa, leading you to the long hallway, Bowie not far behind (as always).

“Right, watch this.”

Alex positions you out of the way, against the wall, then goes to call Bowie over so he’s stood in front of him. He brandishes the pink mouse in his hand, immediately getting the cat’s attention.

“Bowie…fetch!”

He throws the toy down the corridor and you wince at the scratch of claws on hardwood as Bowie throws himself after the mouse, a black flash down the hallway. Cute, but nothing you haven't seen before. But then Bowie reaches the mouse and bends his head down, picking up the pink toy carefully between his teeth before turning and trotting back up the corridor towards Alex, his tail pointing up happily, his eyes bright and alert. Its quite comical really, a tiny kitten dragging along a toy mouse that barely even fits in his mouse. He’s determined, you’ll give him that. Then, to top it all off, he drops the mouse directly in front of Alex’s feet. Alex turns to you, the biggest smile on his face and he crouches down to stroke and praise Bowie.

“Such a clever cat, aren’t you? The cleverest cat.”

“I’ve got to admit, Alex, that’s pretty impressive.”

“Isn’t it?” He looks stupidly proud as he scratches the cat’s back.

“How long did it take you to train him?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“Erm…like every day for the last two weeks…”

You laugh and reach down to ruffle Alex’s hair, mimicking the way he’s petting your cat.

“You have too much time on your hands, babe.”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes playfully, scooping Bowie up into his arms and turning to you, so the cat is sandwiched in between you. You lean over to peck Alex’s lips, then lean down to plant a kiss on Bowie’s head. Warmth spreads through your chest as you look at your beautiful boyfriend holding your beautiful kitten, a smile on his face and purrs emanating from Bowie’s little body. This is your life, and it doesn’t get much better than this.

-

Later that day, you head out to the shops, grabbing a few groceries and some chicken for dinner. When you left, Alex was practising his ‘fetch’ trick with Bowie, laughing and giggling as he tried to see how far he could get the cat to run with the mouse in his mouth. He was thoroughly entertained. But as you open the door, the apartment seems quiet. A little too quiet. You put the shopping bags in the kitchen, then head to the living room in a search for your boys. It doesn’t take long to find them.

Alex is spread out on the sofa, lying flat on his back with his arms behind his head, one leg falling off the end. You can hear some light snores, his mouth hanging half open. Bowie is spread across his chest, his head nestled in Alex’s shirt, his paws clinging to Alex’s shoulders so that he doesn’t slip off. They obviously tired themselves out and your heart practically melts at the sight of them. You snap a quick photo, sending it to Jamie and Katie because you know they'll laugh, having sent you an almost identical photo of Jamie when their son was born.

You tiptoe quietly to the kitchen, not wanting to disturb their nap, starting to cook dinner.

—4—

Time passes quickly in your little family bubble, and before you know it, it’s Halloween. And of course, Alex wants to buy Bowie a costume.

“Alex, he’s a cat-”

“Yes, a black cat, he’s practically made for Halloween, so he’s got to dress up. All the lads’ kids are gonna dress up and they’ll send photos and-”

“I’m not sure it’s the same, Al…”

But he shoots you a petulant look and you have to laugh. He’s so determined that Bowie will be dressed up, there’s nothing you could say to stop him anyway. Not that you’d want to - now that you think about it, you realise how adorable your kitten could look in a costume.

“Okay, what costume are you thinking then?”

Alex’s face lights up, you can practically see the cogs whirring in his head as he starts listing ideas.

“Maybe like a pirate costume? Or…no, thats weird. A pumpkin. Orange would look good. Or even- he- he could go as David Bowie but I- can you get face paint for cats? That’s probably not a thing…maybe not David then. Or…or wings, maybe? Something simple like that? He could be like a bat, and I could dress up as Batman and-”

You’re giggling at this point and you take Alex’s hands in yours to stop him gesticulating wildly.

“Wings sound brilliant, love. Let’s keep it simple for his first Halloween, yeah?”

“Good idea.” Alex nods and smiles, pecking your lips, then your cheek and your forehead.

“Where are you going to get wings for a cat?”

Alex just smirks and taps his nose knowingly.

“I’m an A-list celebrity, babe.” He chuckles. “I have contacts in the fashion industry.”

You roll your eyes at his antics.

-

Halloween soon rolls around. Alex had been quite secretive about Bowie’s costume, wanting it to be a surprise for you. You’re excited, you won’t deny it.

Finally, it’s the evening of the 31st.

“You ready?” Alex calls from the bedroom. He took Bowie in there 15 minutes ago, and you’ve heard some muffled swearing and laughing coming from behind the closed door.

“Yes!” you shout back with genuine excitement.

Alex opens the door with a flourish - Bowie is settled happily on the bed, a pair of black wings sitting comfortably on his back. As you coo and stroke the happy cat, you inspect the wings more closely. They’re brilliantly made, shiny leather stretched over the frame with diamantes studded along the border of the wings. A smart leather harness secures the wings comfortably around Bowie’s chest. It fits perfectly, almost as if…

“Did you have these tailor made?”

Alex shrugs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe…”

You hold Bowie on your lap while Alex takes photos, his nose scrunched in concentration as he takes pictures on his phone, then swaps the phone for his camera to take some snaps on that too. Bowie is getting restless at this point and you both giggle as you try to get him to sit still and look in the general direction of the camera.

“He looks so handsome, Al, you’ve done well with these.”

“Thanks, babe.” Alex smiles, rubbing a hand up and down your back, pulling you into his side to watch as he sends the photos of Bowie to the band group chat. The other guys immediately send some laughing emojis, while Nick comments on how cute your cat looks.

“Don’t tell them I said this, but my boy looks better than all of their kids…” Alex smirks down at you and you laugh, kissing his cheek.

“I agree. Much cuter. Aren’t you, Bowie?” and you hear a meow echo from the kitchen in agreement.

-

Bowie is growing fast now, but his habits still stay the same. He always sleeps in your bed, usually curled up between you and Alex, or in his favourite spot just above Alex’s head. Bowie loves you, of course he does, but the bond that he has with Alex is special. He knows that Alex is the lenient parent, allowing him extra food and treats, whereas you’re more sensible - more strict, Alex would say.

He’s longer now, growing into a lanky young cat, losing that kitten clumsiness. You find yourself scrolling through photos of him on your phone, wondering how that tiny little kitten is growing so fast.

Christmas comes around fast, and you spend the festive period having fun with Alex and Bowie. Almost all of your friends have met Bowie at this point, and he loves the attention, always trying to get as many strokes from visitors as possible, although usually resorting back to sitting on your or Alex’s lap when he gets tired.

Alex buys and wraps presents for Bowie to ‘open’ on Christmas day, most of the presents being cat toys or treats. He also gets him a new leather collar, a size bigger to fit your rapidly growing cat. You transfer the “Bowie” name tag over to the new strap, adjusting the new collar around Bowie’s neck while he purrs and rubs himself against your leg.

“He’s getting big.” Alex remarks as he watches you pamper the cat.

“Isn’t he? He’ll be 1 soon. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Can’t imagine life without him to be honest.” Alex sighs and frowns. “I’m not sure what I’ll do when we have to tour again. I’ll miss the two of you too much.”

“We’ll be okay, Al. We can come visit you.”

“Bowie? On a plane? That sounds like a good idea.” Alex feigns enthusiasm and you both laugh at the thought, your entitled, loud cat having to sit still for an entire plane journey.

“Well, people take their toddlers on planes. Can’t be any worse than that?” You remark.

“True. Maybe one day, we’ll have to take a toddler and a cat. We’ll have our hands full then.” Alex smiles at you, the meaning in his words making your heart race, and you giggle.

“Let’s stick with a cat for now, Al, take it one step at a time.” But thinking about the future really does excite you - life is good.

Thanks for reading, here’s some reference pics for Bowie in this chapter:

Taglist: @ohladymoon @martinipoliz @almluv @zayndrider @madnesstaking0ver @atticssmellgood @leafjoon @turnerside @turnertable @yourstartreatment @averyzversi0n

@lilmisssweetdreams @mathdebate00 @sstar-ggirl @indierockgirrl

(Please let me know if you want to be added/removed)

[cantsayidont]

VELVET GOLDMINE (1998): Stylish but deadening Todd Haynes '70s glam rock homage, a CITIZEN KANE riff following reporter Arthur Stuart (Christian Bale) as he investigates the fate of glam star Brian Slade (Jonathan Rhys-Meyers), who faked his own on-stage murder and disappeared 10 years earlier.

As Arthur chases after people who knew Brian, including the star's estranged ex-wife Mandy (Toni Collette) and his one-time lover/muse Curt Wild (Ewan McGregor), flashbacks reveal that Arthur himself once hovered on the fringes of the glam scene, longing to be part of its hedonistic atmosphere of genderfluid gay sex without ever quite committing (although we eventually learn he did have a brief groupie tryst with Curt). In other hands than Haynes', this might have been poignant, but neither Bale's wooden performance nor the thin script provides any more reason to care about Arthur (about whose present life we're told almost nothing) than about Brian, Mandy, or Curt, whom Haynes treats more as extensions of the sets and wardrobe than as three-dimensional characters; an Oscar-bait scene where Mandy laments giving up her girlhood for Brian seems like an excerpt from a completely different movie.

Obviously, the film's principal claims to fame are its production design and the opportunity to see its skinny white British stars naked and snogging, but once the McGregor peen has been brandished and the snogging dispensed with (and awfully perfunctorily, even for 1998), the rest barely qualifies as "wispy." Dramatic stakes are nonexistent, and with so many layers of emotional detachment, even its most decadent moments are less involving than just watching some old music videos or documentary clips. As in other Haynes projects, the look and feel of the period is lavishly if superficially reproduced, but after about an hour, you may feel like you're suffocating in the display case. The soundtrack's pastiche glam rock songs are so vacuous they border on parody, and you gain nothing by recognizing the various story elements Haynes borrowed from the lives and careers of real glam rock stars like Bowie and Marc Bolan. CONTAINS LESBIANS? You must be joking. VERDICT: A collection of gifsets in search of a story, characters, or a reason to give a shit. As disdainful as I am of fanfiction, I must concede that you'd probably be better off just putting on some T. Rex and seeing what AO3 has under "Velvet Goldmine."

[chadillacboseman]

WIP Wednesday Thursday

A little snippet of a piece of JJ and Alora (@bihanspookies) having a grand ol' time in a bar fight.

--

“Alora!” JJ calls her name, but the chair comes down on her shoulders anyway, splintering as if it’s made of popsicle sticks. JJ blinks and watches in awe as Alora, unfazed, grabs one of the broken legs and leaps at the attacker.

Another man levels a punch at JJ that manages to catch him in his distracted state. The fist connects with his gut and he wheezes, taking a step back to steady himself against the bar. He blocks another punch with dropped elbows and levels a kick to the man’s shin that connects with a –thud- that has him hissing and hopping on one leg.

Alora brings the jagged chair leg down like a spear and pins the blonde man’s hand to the bar, her face twisted in a snarl. The man howls in pain and tries to yank away, but she keeps the pressure and knees him in the ribs, turning his cry of pain into sputters and pained coughs.

The man with the shaggy beard is brandishing a knife now, a hefty bowie blade that glints in the dim bar light. JJ watches it as it arcs through the air, cleaving the smoke that hovers in half and misses him by inches, instead getting buried in the wood of the bar. The wielder struggles for a moment and JJ uses the opportunity to throw a haymaker that connects with his face, snapping it to one side and causing his grip on the knife to falter. JJ shakes his hand to rid it of the stinging pain and pivots back out of the man’s reach when he swings the now freed knife once more.

Across the room, Alora tackles a man with cropped hair around the middle, bringing him to the ground. JJ is sure he catches a glimpse of a smile on her face as she cocks her fist back and strikes him, once, then twice, surely breaking his nose. The man with the knife makes a frenzied swipe at JJ’s midriff and he pulls back just enough to dodge, the blade instead slicing through the material of his jacket and leaving a broad gash.

“Brand new fuckin’ jacket,” JJ grumbles as he shucks the garment and pulls it taut between his hands.

He catches the next swing of the knife in the jacket and twists, capturing the man’s arm in the fabric. He gives a hard yank and the knife clatters to the floor, then he levels his knee into the man’s chin and winces at the crunch that signals at least one cracked tooth.

“JJ, duck!” Alora’s voice carries across the room and he obeys on instinct, bending at the waist just in time for a baseball bat to pass over his head, breezing through the air where he had just been.

[unreone]

GORETOBER 2023

Day 19: Found

CONTAINS -> DISTURBING IMAGERY, BLOOD

The silence is maddening, it almost made me wished I'm already found.

I curled up under the bed, minimizing my posture as much as possible. Every small squeak and groan the house made felt like an alarm, warning me that my pursuer was closing in.

I keep checking behind, making sure my tail isn't sticking out in the darkness.

On the verge of tears, I laugh - how else can I release tension in such a situation? Usually, I pride myself for its size and will gladly show it off to others. Now, I'm damning the day I get that stupid tail enlargement surgery.

Then, the tirade of insults against the stupid decisions of my past self all came to a halt by a clomp. The all-too-familiar sound of his paws against the floor, as if he was tracking me with his nose, hot on my trail.

I shuddered, fighting back the urge to scream in fear. It didn't help that I could smell the scent of rotting flesh in the air. I could hear him pacing across the floor, his heavy breathing signaling the nearing end of this twisted version of hide and seek.

I hate this game.

That dumbass rabbit should have just- sigh, what's the point.

Wishing harm to the one who started this is pointleas considering he is the first one to go. Way to use a party popper, Cuddles.

A creak - its harshness jabs my ears.

For that moment I froze, my whole body going cold, unable to move a single inch.

I clutched the socks I found nearby close to my chest, hoping this would somehow ward the guy off. That of course is ineffective hearing how his footsteps are getting closer. He's growling to my direction, as if I need any more reason to be intimidated in the darkness.

The room felt suffocating as I cowered under the bed, trying to contain my breathing. I could feel the sweat trickling down my forehead as I clutched the socks tighter.

I knew he was right in front of me, crouching down with his strikingly yellow eyes glaring back at me. I could imagine him smirking, his sharp teeth gritting as he brandished his bowie knife.

I closed my eyes, willing the vision to go away as soon as I opened them again...

but it didn't.

[normaltothemax]

@firelightfables​​

Fighting gods and their followers was getting to be old hat, at this point. Jake was about ready to consider the fight with Apep’s just another, regular Tuesday, despite the calamity that surrounded him. Chaos filled the streets. What mayhem had been started by the god’s followers was only exacerbated by frightened civilians. Given that Apep was apparently the embodiment of chaos, that didn’t surprise Jake, all that much. Frustrate and annoy him, sure, but not surprise.

Problem was, he was rapidly losing control over the fight.

He’d been fighting for some pointy pole thing—an obelisk, Steven so helpfully supplied while Jake shoved a crescent dart into some guy’s neck—for god only knew how long, the suit healing any and all injuries he’d gotten, as per usual. Everything had been going fine, until the leader of Apep’s followers got in a lucky hit and whacked him over the head with the obelisk thing. It’d not only hurt like hell, but it’d also let off a flash of green light that had left him seeing stars, his mind reeling. That was the moment when things began spiraling out of control.

He could no longer feel Khonshu’s presence.

The suit disappeared, taking the crescent darts with it, and he couldn’t summon it back.

He was in the middle of a fight, easily still seven against one, by his last estimate, and he had no Khonshu, no healing suit, and no weapons.

Oh, and he couldn’t hear or feel Marc and Steven anymore, either. 

Not good. 

To the best of his ability, he finished the fight, as he was wont to do, but he could only protect himself so much. He was distracted by the silence in his own mind, left scrambling to grab the closest weapon (a dropped Bowie knife), while the others had knives and guns of their own. Thankfully, they were pretty terrible shots, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt like hell when a bullet caught him in the shoulder, or another lodged itself in his thigh.

By the end of it, Jake was badly hurt and severely out of breath. He gasped for air, struggling desperately to fill his lungs, despite some fractured, if not broken, ribs. It was only once he was the final man standing—technically he was barely managing to stay up on his hands and knees, but semantics—that he allowed himself to acknowledge the panic that’d steadily been building since the suit disappeared. He had no headmates, no Khonshu, no healing. He’d been shot and stabbed and beaten...he could die. Bleed out right there in the street, and for what? For some stupid pointy pole thing?

Steven didn’t correct him, that time, and the fear he’d so carefully kept inside skyrocketed. Vaguely, he heard footsteps crunching toward him. His head snapped up—fucking owowow—and he brandished the Bowie that was still clutched in one hand, wobbling slightly as he attempted to keep his balance. Eyes tried to focus on the figure (figures?) approaching, but he’d started seeing double, maybe triple, a while back, and didn’t know which of them actually needed watching. “No te acerques más,” he warned, mind feeling too tired and scrambled to bother attempting anything in English. “¡Lo digo en serio! A menos que quieras terminar como ellos, te quedarás atrás.” He had no idea if they’d understand him, but his tone and expression, along with the knife held in a white-knuckled grip, would no doubt get his meaning across.

[alastaircraig]

Bowie

Illustration by Hannah Aiello

January 2016:

The strangest part of working in a newsroom: you will occasionally have to act on awful news – if only for a few minutes of speedy fact-checking – before you’re permitted to completely feel it. Even when it’s the loss of somebody who you admire not only for his music, but his very existence.

The first thought that penetrates your professional numbness: a memory of 2003; sitting next to your Mum and sister at a Bowie concert, singing along with the man himself to “Suffragette City”. You will forever cherish the memory of your Mum shouting “WHAM BAM THANK YOU MA’AM”; forever brandish it as Exhibit A in the Wow, My Mother Is A Genuinely Cool Person argument. You realise that to you, the saddest part of this sorry news is the fact that she’ll have to hear it.

The walk home is far, far too short to process anything. So you keep walking. The Brisbane river is lovely. The humid air is cooling. Your fingers, acting almost of their own accord, have already tapped on your magical space-age phone and purchased Bowie’s final album – the album he surely knew would be his last – and pressed play.

It’s weird. It’s alienating. It’s inaccessible. It’s every bit as different to old Bowie as a new Bowie album should be. You find delight not in the songs, but the simple fact that he was finding entirely new things to say to the very end. The knowing references to death and afterlives and vigils are achingly sad, of course. But for the next half hour, he feels very much alive.

You keep walking, and walking, and walking. As the album ends, the final cosmic fade out is almost too much to bear. In your headphones, in this state, it feels like a one-on-one communication: a conscious, affectionate goodbye from a dying man.

Then it’s over. You’re back to reality. The little noises of the outside world seep back in: the bark of dogs, the tweeting of birds, the waves of the river. It’s gentle and peaceful and – through the muffle of the earphones you can’t quite bring yourself to remove – suddenly missing something vital.

So out comes the phone once more. You reach for the old. The familiar. The beloved. The Rock and Roll Suicides. The New Killer Stars. The Ziggies Stardust. And still you trundle along, step by step, doing an approximation of ordinary walking so seamless it has everybody around you fooled. The news has travelled far and wide by now. Is anyone else having a moment like this? That jogger? That lady with the dog? Are they all just as good at pretending? What about their mothers? Who can say?

The sun has set. The humidity has replaced itself with a chilly breeze. Your sunglasses are no longer necessary, but you’re afraid to take them off. You may still need them, having no idea at this stage how your eyes plan to react, water-wise, as you approach the end to Life On Mars.

The air gets cooler. Bowie hits his high note. Your whole body breaks out into sudden goosebumps and you secretly know that’s not the wind’s doing at all. Whatever intangible thing you were looking for in this walk, you’ve probably found it.

As you finally turn and head home, 90 minutes later than planned, you realise two things. First: you’re already writing about the experience in your head. You’ll feel compelled to put it into words. You’ll probably give it more narrative coherence and broader emotional significance than it actually had. You might not edit it; not as much as you should. You will almost certainly regret sharing it. You might not even bother to take it out of the lame second person form, which you are even now worried might seem self-absorbed.

Secondly: the song in your ears no longer carries the weight of the world. It has returned to what it always was, and always will be: good, fun music. As you wait for the elevator, “Little Wonder” reaches its triumphant, transcendent, critically-underrated second half. The doors open. You see your reflection and realise you’ve been quietly dancing on the spot. And smiling.

[jah-dev]

Blackstar by David Bowie

It’s as bonkers as you’d expect. 

First, the background. Space Oddity, released in 1969, was Bowies first real hit (Sadly, the Laughing Gnome didn’t get a lot of traction). In the song Tom is an astronaut whose capsule has malfunctioned in orbit, essentially stranding him in space. Most of it centres around him realising he isn’t making it back and trying to come to terms with his fate. It ends on a somewhat bleak note: Mission Control loses contact with the capsule prematurely, and they don’t seem to know why. Have the communication systems failed? Has Tom re-entered the atmosphere? Has he killed himself? Or did he somehow modify his little ship to leave orbit entirely and set himself on a journey into infinity? It seems to end on the suggestion any of these could have occurred.

Fast forward ten years. The Scary Monsters album is Bowies first venture into hard rock, and it’s a banger. (He would return to rock around nine years later with Tin Machine; he later described his Eighties journey as ‘two hard ends with a soft bit in the middle’). 

The first track, Ashes to Ashes, looks a lot like the next chapter in the story of Tom. He strolls along a beach in a fantastical costume while an Albert Einstein type seems to be explaining something at length to him. Is the beach somewhere else in the cosmos? Who or what is walking along with him? Is it only happening in his mind?

We then see Tom sitting in some kind of control chair pondering his fate aloud, while someone in the background washes dishes and carries out other mundane chores. This can be interpreted as the ships autonomous systems keeping him alive, whether he wants them to or not. At the end of the video we see Tom wired up to all these tubes and wires, keeping him in some kind of stasis, neither alive nor dead.  How can he still be alive after over a decade in space? Did he encounter someone else out there? Did they decide to modify his ship so that he could continue on his voyage of discovery out amongst the unknown? Whatever it is, he doesn’t seem too happy about it. He sings of wanting to take an axe to the ships systems (the ‘ice’) and returning to Earth. In the previous chapter he made the fateful decision that, rather than die uselessly in orbit, he would fire all the attitude rockets at once and thrust himself out into deep space, to be the first, possibly only, emissary to the cosmos. In so doing he would be transformed into a kind of artifact. If civilisation back on Earth ended, if humanity itself came to an end, his ship and his remains would endure, out amongst the infinite.

Perhaps he now regrets the decision. Because whatever he encountered out there changed him such that he cannot now die, yet nor is he really alive. All he can do is continue on the voyage, wherever it takes him.

Meanwhile back on Earth Tom has become somewhat of a cult hero: we see a group of people standing around a funeral pyre which they seem to have erected in his memory, singing his praises. As time goes on the cult will slowly grow as his name passes into legend. 

Fast forward to 2016, the end of the saga. 

It is tens of thousands of years in the future. Humanity’s descendants worship artefacts of the ancient space age, such as a mysterious helmet within which lies the bejewelled skull of a long dead astronaut. These people look human but they have tails and their form of worship seems to involve leaping up and down in unison. This is contrasted with a preacher standing in what may be the ruins of a church, brandishing a book with a black star motif on it. (The five pointed star can be viewed as a symbol of the human being: a head with arms and legs outstretched, DaVinciesque). This is interspersed with images of an astronaut falling into a silhouetted star, his body slowly elongating under the immense gravitational pull. 

We can perhaps piece together what happened. The ‘Black Star’ of this chapter refers to the immense black hole at the centre of the Milky Way, whose gravitational well weaves together a hundred million stars. Major Tom travelled all the way to the centre of the galaxy, into a region no living being had gone before, and catalogued everything he saw and experienced along the way. Eventually he was drawn into the black hole, but rather than being pulled in completely, at the last second he saw a way out: he modified his course such that he could use its gravity to slingshot him around it entirely, and put him back on a course for Earth! Whether or not he succeeded and made it back to the mother planet we cannot say. Yet if the helmeted skull is anything to go by, something of him made it home. And maybe also some of the data he gathered out there. Perhaps the information is all in the Black Star book held aloft by the preacher man. Perhaps they have transformed his findings into a religion, and his ships log is now their bible. But the blindfolded man with buttons for eyes could mean that they have descended into a rigid dogma. It could be that we are looking at two separate religious sects: one has hold of the Major Tom holy relics including his skull, and the other has kept the information of what he found out there to itself.

So in the end Major Tom achieved what he set out to do: he has been transformed into a shrine, a memory of a departed civilisation, its last remnant. Though not perhaps the way he originally intended. As they say, be careful what you wish for.

[infiinitys]

𝐁𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐒 their eyes latch onto the clock behind him, realizing that she only has to hold out for a few minutes more before she would be released from her position for the evening. The sound of his voice seems to have developed the power to pierce through their thoughts at a speed that they aren't quite sure if they're excited by or scared of. "Hey -- hey." They try their hardest to hide their laugh as his voice raises, electricity pulsating through her fingers as the flesh accidentally grazes his arm. It is then that she feels her stomach drop, knowing that she wouldn't be able to cling to the mystique that they often relied on much longer. As he quiets, Bowie lets out perhaps the first genuine laugh that they have in what feels like eons. It is not just a laugh, but a release. "You're allowed to have your own experiences. It's kinda.. what makes us human." They are certainly enthralled by his sudden passion for them, but regardless.

Something in them feels both vindicated that someone else feels the same for the glam-rock icon and yet, something causes them to wonder if their truly was a higher power. If there was one, it certainly wouldn't have allowed her to feel like merely nothing more than a vessel for the first seventeen years of her in the long run, meager existence. But they are certainly not against asking the right questions. "Well... then aren't you gonna be in for the shock of your life." Perhaps they should have warned every poor sap who bothered to get a little too close. "Hi there, my name is Bowie. Named myself as I was listening to Space Oddity waiting in line to pay at a convenience store in the middle of whereverthefuck, Indiana. Probably." They weren't quite confident when it came to the location. Bowie can’t help but pause in a manner that feels almost defining, wondering if it would be their tongue getting themselves in trouble once more.

“God, I’m sorry about that.” Bowie mutters, shaking their head as they adjust the neckline of their t-shirt. It brandished The Smashing Pumpkin’s logo, the original neckline having been hacked completely off so her shoulder is slightly exposed. It does no help to calm the thoughts that run through their mind. No amount of perfume, ruminants of yesterdays makeup or tattoos could make her feel any less exposed than she does in that very moment.

“Trust me.” They eventually say, revealing a binder from underneath the counter before recording the current time next to their name. They are done for the evening. “I certainly noticed.” Their gaze returns to his following the acknowledgement of fingers running over his knuckles. “Let me just close your tab and then…. Emilio…. I’ll gladly take that number if I haven’t scared you off just yet. Cause…” Bowie gestures to the clock. “My shift just ended.”

If he were to put the back of his hand to his cheek, his knuckles would heat immediately. He takes a sort of pleasure in it, the warmth akin to an afternoon at his villa back home, lying down on the edge of the pool, back pressed against the cool tile, legs submerged in the water. Even if it were still day, there's no window large enough to let the sunlight spear through. This is all them. He feels it, deep in his stomach, the tug as taut as a newly strung racquet. 'Did I say I love America?' He asks, his gaze flits over them, searching for a clue of their time there, as if only he were given the time, then story would eventually unravel itself from a look alone. Of course, that isn't the case. He has to ask, wants to, but doesn't know if they want to be asked. 'I actually meant to say I hate America. Fuck America.' Emilio announces, earning a few glances his way, that he doesn't pay attention to enough to discern whether they're ones of approval or condemnation. He does understand. How countries can be like bad exes, bad memories, just bad.

Emilio nods, frantically. Because he knows what it means for something to be in your blood, and because he knows of the musicians they're talking about. 'I listen to Zeppelin when I work out,' He says, which naturally sounds like he's trying to casually mention that he works out, 'Actually I think they are all on my playlist. Except Bowie. Can I tell you something?' He's going to anyways and dips ever closer, dark eyes liquid black but glinting with openness. 'Bowie makes me very sad. Even if it is a happy song. My heart? It goes like this,' He raises an open palm and clenches it into a fist. Heroes makes him woozy, so drunk on hope it could make him sick. He loves it, he can barely fathom to listen to it. 'Silly, no?' Then he splits open a smile, punctures through his own maudlin sentiment and slides his card toward them.

They're so close. He thinks of sitting up straight to give them a better portrait of himself, a better read — but he'd be crazy to sacrifice this. He's not the first to see them like this, the spray of dark lashes, the fragile skin beneath, shadowed with a slight tinge of violet, but he feels lucky regardless. It turns out he doesn't need to be far for them to see the bigger picture. 'Very good,' He commends, 'Tennis. Like you it is in my blood.' It takes on the same intonation as they had talking about music. Emilio knows one truth: He'd be nothing without it. It is him, entirely. 'I try.' A lax smile lingers easily on his lips, but there's effort in it too. The effort never rests, the effort to get a good rest analyzed by the hypnogram on his Oura ring, the effort of being effortless on a night out, the effort of another drink. 'But you noticed, so I must be doing something right.' He quips, with an unwavering confidence. Emilio doesn't know how to say he's become accustomed to bottle service and electronic music that makes his ears bleed, sidled up to a girl in the corner booth of a club in Mayfair asking him to follow her, an influencer. 'It's my kind of place now.' He decides, less open to interpretation, he knows exactly why.

A smile fixes on his face, pure delight. 'Say my name again,' He doesn't think that right now, there could be anything sweeter. 'My number for your name.' Emilio propositions.

[dridsimsheart]

My OCs' family pictures and names!

Oh I was excited to post this, hope someone does something similiar because I would love too see your ocs' family <3

[katyswrites]

ur robin smut was amazing 🫶🏼 could u do 13, 98 or 142 with her from the “150 random prompts” list? whichever one you feel more inclined to do works for me! or do all of them i wouldn’t complain 🫣 hahaha

Hi, anon! Sure thing! I was originally going to write a blurb, but this ended up being a whole oneshot, so I hope you enjoy!

Prompt 13: “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

Prompt 142.: “Could he make you feel as good as I do?”

I Don't Want You Like a Best Friend

Pairing: Robin Buckley/afab!reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), vaginal fingering (reader receiving), fluff, friends-to-lovers, reader has a bit of a sexuality crisis

Smut below the cut!

It had started simply, really. You were reeling from your fresh breakup, your boyfriend of a year doing it via phone call. He had decided that the girls at college were better, more interesting to him, and that he didn’t have time for his girlfriend stuck back in Hawkins for her senior year. Well, he hadn’t exactly put it that way, but… you weren’t stupid.

It’s been two weeks since then. You had gone through a range of emotion - devastating sadness, frustration, regret and blinding anger. The pain is less raw now, and you’re pissed, more than anything. Still, it’s a welcome surprise when Robin calls you up and invites you over for a movie night - somehow, she always knows exactly what you need.

Robin’s parents aren’t home, and she’s brandishing a tape of Labyrinth, freshly-arrived at Family Video. It’s sold-out nearly everywhere, but she had set it aside for you.

“Perks of the job,” she says, popping it in the VHS player and passing you the bowl of stovetop popcorn.

You sit for a while and just watch the movie, making jokes and commentary throughout. Robin doesn’t bring up the breakup - you both know that it’s why she’s invited you over, to take your mind off of it. 

“God,” you groan. “How much do you think they paid Bowie to dance with puppets like this?”

Robin laughs, the kind of laugh that has her snorting and gasping a little. It’s not even that funny, but she’s acting like she’s just heard the best joke in the world. You look over at her, the way her eyes crinkle and her face turns red, warming the freckles that dot her skin. And, for a moment, your heart aches with how bad you want to reach over and brush her hair out of her eyes, and hold her face in your hands.

You shake the feeling quickly, and push it down. You’re vulnerable, and reeling, and Robin’s your best friend… you can’t cross that line, not now. Besides, she likes Vickie, and you know that.

You turn your attention back to the TV, and focus intensely on the movie, taking in David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly as they ballroom dance. Soon, though, the credits are rolling, and Robin’s gotten up to rewind the tape. 

“So,” she says, flopping back down on the couch next to you, “What now? Wanna watch something else? Or, we can break into my mom’s liquor cabinet, if you’re feeling frisky.”

You grin. “Hm - I like that second option.”

*****

Soon, you’re splitting a bottle of vodka, mixed with some fruit punch Robin unearthed from the back of the fridge, and you’re feeling warm and light. Robin’s turned on the radio, Madonna’s voice floating through the crackly speakers as you melt into the couch. For a moment, it’s easy to forget about everything, and to just be here, with her. After a while, you feel Robin’s gaze on you, and you flop your head over to look at her. Her face is soft, and sympathetic, and you sigh.

“What is it, Robs?”

“Nothing! Just - you’re doing okay, right?”

You take a deep breath, and stare up at the ceiling. 

“I mean - I guess. I’m definitely doing better, at least, better than a couple weeks ago. I’m just pissed. I mean, I wasted so much time with him.”

“Yeah,” Robin says, scooting a bit closer. “I mean, I always thought you were way to good for him. I never really liked that guy.”

You look over at her, furrowing your brow.

“Wait, actually? And you never said anything?”

Robin sighs, pressing her palm to her forehead.

“Well - yeah! I mean, you really seemed into him, so - what was I supposed to do? I mean, would you tell me if I was dating a girl you didn’t particularly like?”

You sigh, and cross your arms. “No, probably not. I mean, not if you seemed to really like her.”

Then, you raise your eyebrows suggestively, and look over at her.

“Speaking of girls you like - anything going on with Vickie?”

Robin’s face falters a bit, and she shakes her head. 

“Um - no, not really. I mean, we chat at band practice, and stuff, but… I don’t know.”

You furrow your brow, confused. “You don’t know what?”

Robin shifts, tucking her legs underneath her on the couch and fully facing you.

“I mean - Vickie’s cool. And, I like her. But, not as much as I thought I did. I mean… I think I maybe like someone else, and that’s the real stuff.”

Your stomach lurches, and you shove it down - you’re not the jealous type, you can’t be. So instead, you force a smile, and lean casually against the back of the couch.

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

Robin looks at you for a moment, something unreadable passing her features. Then, she scooches a bit closer to you, enough that you can count her constellations of freckles, her blue eyes soft and sincere.

“Hey - if I ask you something, can you promise not to get weird?”

You nod, not risking saying anything. The alcohol makes your brain feel a bit fuzzy, your face flushed and warm. Then, Robin whispers something softly, delicately.

“Have you - have you ever thought about kissing a girl?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, a hot rush to your face - you’re almost positive you’re beet-red.

“I - um - what?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just - have you?”

You don’t know what possesses you - maybe it’s the alcohol, or the mourning of lost time, or the acute awareness of how close Robin’s face is to yours, doe-eyed and beautiful. But, aloud, you say something you’ve never even admitted to yourself.

“Yes,” you breathe. Then, without thinking, you’re closing the remaining distance between you two, and you press your lips to hers. She lets out a squeak of surprise, but doesn’t pull back. For a moment you’re terrified, and unable to believe this is happening, because you’re kissing your best friend and - of God, she’s kissing you back.

She tastes like cheap liquor and cherry Chapstick, her mouth moving with yours as you breath her in - lilies, sandalwood, and mint, and so Robin. All at once it’s scary, and amazing, and strangely familiar. You aren’t thinking about anything else, just how right this feels, even if it’s actually wrong. Your brain is short-circuiting, your skin is on fire. You suddenly understand what people mean by sparks, and they’re firing off in your head, unable to think anything besides yes. 

You open your mouth a bit, allowing Robin’s tongue to enter, exploring your mouth as you let out a small moan. You bring your hands to her hair, grasping the back of her head as she melts into you. She lets out a groan of approval, and you’re letting her take the lead, easing you back on the couch to lay underneath her.

Then, you’re both pulling away, gasping for breath. She’s hanging over you, and you both stare at each other wordlessly for a moment. You’re both breathing rapidly, hearts thumping, lips swollen and glossy. Robin speaks first.

“I - um, I just -”

“Shut up,” you breathe, and you’re pulling her down to you, kissing her deep and hard. She holds herself up, swinging one leg so that she’s straddling you. It’s getting messier, all gnashing teeth and tongue, your kisses becoming more desperate. Is this what you’ve been missing, this whole time?

Then, your fingers are toying with the hem of her t-shirt, lightly brushing the soft skin of her navel. You sit yourself up a bit, pushing her into an upright position, and she’s pulling it over her head. You stare at her, taking in the rapid rise and fall of her chest under her black bra, and it finally occurs to you that this is happening. Part of you thinks you might return to your senses, decide to not go any further, but it doesn’t happen - instead, you want more.

“Wow,” you gasp, taking her in. 

She smirks. “If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to a bed.”

You smile devilishly in return. “Who says we have to?”

Then, she’s on you again, pressing you into the couch and kissing you hungrily. You gasp into her mouth, her lips soft and perfect, exactly how you’d imagined.

Then, she’s tugging at your shirt, and it’s being pulled over your head, flung to the other side of the room.

“Everything - ah, fuck - everything, off,” she breathes, fiddling with the button of your jeans. You help her and shimmy them down your legs, kicking them off the edge of the couch. She sits up, leaning back on her knees, and stares at you in absolute awe.

You suddenly feel shy, and cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?” you ask, avoiding her gaze.

“Nothing, it’s just,” she shakes her head incredulously, “you’re really beautiful, you know that?”

You blush at that, your heart fluttering and threatening to burst out of your chest - you can’t remember the last time someone called you beautiful, least of all him.

“You really mean that?” you ask, voice feeling small.

She nods, leaning over you again until her face is inches away.

“Yeah - I’ve always thought that.”

Then she’s kissing you again, deep and slow, and you sigh into her mouth. She moves from your lips to your neck, peppering kisses there and making her way down to your chest. Then, she looks up at you, eyes soft.

“Can I touch you?” she asks, her voice low.

Your stomach flutters, the warmth in your chest spreading further, lower.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

She grins, and presses another kiss to your chest, your neck, your lips, her hand traveling downwards. She brushes her fingers along the edge of your panties, toying with the elastic.

When her hand finally slips underneath the thin fabric, and she runs her finger along your slit, you gasp. 

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” she murmurs, completely in awe. She coats her fingers in your slit, touching you, but not exactly where you need her. Before you have a chance to beg, she brings her fingers to your clit, and you see stars.

You cry out, involuntarily bucking into her hand as she begins to rub slow circles on your clit. Your eyes flutter closed, and she toys with your cunt, spreading the lips and stroking.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry, voice shaky and strained.

“That feel good?” she asks, her voice sultry and low as she kisses your neck. You bite your lip and nod, unable to speak, unable to think anything besides how much you need her.

“Could he make you feel as good as I do?” she rasps. You shake your head,gasping for air as she speeds up her ministrations on your clit.

“Well, could he?”

“No! God - fuck - no, he couldn’t,” you gasp, writhing underneath her.

She smiles into your skin. “Good.”

Without warning, she sinks a finger inside of you. You moan, and as she curls it along that spot along your walls, your back arches, head thrown back in ecstasy.

“Oh, oh God,” you pant, grasping the back of Robin’s neck and pulling her impossibly closer to you.

“God’s not here, I’m afraid,” she whispers. Despite yourself, you roll your eyes. But before you can come up with a clever retort, she adds a second finger, and you lose all cognitive function.

She scissors her fingers, stretching you out, her thumb continuing on your clit. 

“You close? You gonna come for me?” she asks, reaching up with her other hand to start palming your breast.

“Yes - almost there - Robin, fuck, keep doing that -”

It’s too much, and not enough, and exactly what you’ve been needing. She pumps her fingers, once, twice, three times, and you’re done for. You let go, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. You scream, head lifting off of the pillow and pressing into her shoulder. You clench around her fingers, convulsing as she continues to circle your clit, slowing down as you ride out your high.

“That’s it - there you go, that’s perfect,” she croons, soothingly stroking your hair as you come down.

Then, you’re flopping back, heart pounding, panting heavily. She withdraws her fingers, and you look down, the sight of her hand coated in your juices making your head spin.

Did that really just happen? As you stare into Robin’s wide eyes hovering over yours, you come back to reality - the reality where you just had the best orgasm or your life on your best friend’s fingers, that is.

Neither of you say anything for a moment, matching each other’s slowing breathing as you assess the situation. You decide to break the silence.

“That - that was -”

“Yeah,” Robin says, sitting back up on her knees. “Um - is this the part where we talk about it?”

You look at her, as if you’re seeing her for the very first time. Maybe it’s the afterglow, or the fact that things make sense for what might be the first time in your life, or the fact that her lips look so kissable. But, you shake your head, and shakily bring yourself to a sitting position, pulling yourself closer to her.

“No,” you whisper, bringing your face close to hers, brushing your noses. “Now is the part where you show me how I can make you feel that good.” A smile spreads on her face, warm and big until she’s positively beaming. Then, you’re pulling her in for a passionate kiss, and she’s falling back, taking you with her. It’s all smiles and giggles, kisses and touches, and you know that no matter what happens after tonight, this is what you’ve been looking for.

Taglist: @cityofidek

Stranger Things requests are open!

View prompt lists below - in your request, please specify which prompt list you’re referring to, and which character you’d like it for!

random sentence prompts

smut prompts

touch prompts

kiss prompts

domestic fluff prompts

[illogical-fallacy]

the way i need for Will and Mike to both be in the upside-down at the end of s5, Mike brandishing a sword hopper-style against demo-creatures and Will with awakened powers keeping Mike safe, both quite literally playing the role of paladin and cleric, when they turn and look at each other while war wages on around them and their first kiss happens in slow motion with explosions in the background from robin igniting a series of bombs, murray now dual-weilding flamethrowers, and steve driving like a fucking tank around. moment they kiss, cue a symphonic rock cover of bowie's version of Heroes. interrupted by dustin, "is this REALLY the time, guys?"

[the-bloodmire-family]

“Yep. Now get the fuck out fore I scalp you and Eat you’re fuckin Liver.”

(He said while brandishing a big ass Bowie knife)

*It has been several months sence the last encounter with the blood thirsty bloodmaire family.He can't stop thinking about what happened, about the guy that saved him..and just everything in general...*

Armaros-Fuck...I can't stop thinking about..those cruel 2 weeks...I need answers...but how do I go to hell without getting killed..*

*he thought for a moment and had an idea...he would ask to borrow an angelic artifact that can disguise you in any way imaginable,once he had it he had putting in his pocket and during the night he snuck out to fly down to hell*

*Once he was in hell he hid in a bush and clipped thw artifact on his belt, it took a good 5 minutes for the transformation to take place, after the transformation, he looked in a nearby window to make sure , and sure enough it was, he looked like an actual demon*

*Now the only thing left to do is go to the bloodmare land itself, eventually after a long ass walk he found it he took a deep breath and knocked*

Armaros-Fuck I hope this works...

*he stands there waiting for them to open the door*

(As Armaros is waiting for someone to answer the door he looks around and sees all sorts of “NO TRESPASSING” signs all over the place, the Armaros heard a click at the door. As he looked back at the door there was a Double barrel shotgun pointed right at his face and a mean old southern voice yells out)

“WHO THE FUCK IS IT? YOU THAT NEW CLEANER? YOU GOT FIVE SECONDS TO AWNSER ‘FORE I GIVE YOU A NEW FUCKIN BREATHIN HOLE!”

[cloudninetonine]

idea: everything is the same except player has a knife and zero qualms with using it. thats literally it thats the whole concept

ideas within this universe

- yiga ambush where player is instructed to stay back, after their fight is over they go to help player only to find them shanking a nearby blademaster

- random hylian man decides not to take no for an answer so player uses some Gentle Persuasion to get him to back off

- actually using the knife for utilitarian purposes like cutting vines and shit without having to swing the big heavy swords

- chopping veggies with wild for dinner (after making sure the knife is thoroughly sanitized of course)

- almost getting struck by lightning by wilds hyrule bc metal + thunderstorm = ouch

- first finding out player actually has a knife by surprise stabbing someone while still in Panic Mode

- holy shit player actually has combat experience and while not exactly the safest at close range, knife plus pepper spray works wonders on monsters. they still got eyes after all, and those are always vulnerable to some degree

- added: somebody finds the can of pepper spray and accidentally hits themselves in the face with it so the gang ends up wasting a ton of milk and water trying to get it out of their eyes for like 20 minutes. nobody touches the orange can from now on

i could go on but just. gremlin player with a knife, and pepper spray (which they are slightly more responsible with) - mold

It's not a small knife either, it's massive, bowie knife size and Player isn't afraid to brandish it.

Wild I feel was the one who got sprayed and he says it was the worst experience he's lived- and he's a forest man he's been through some shit.

[zipzinz]

You kept this?

I’m doing a mix of Whumptober and Flufftober prompts this year, this one is for @flufftober - “You kept this?”

This is set during Legends of Tomorrow season 6, right after Sara returns.

Ava just stared at Sara as she adjusted the pillows. She drunk her in, the blonde hair, the blue eyes, the precious flash of skin as she reaches to tug at a blanket. She’s unharmed. She’s okay. She’s here.

She’s been back for two days and they haven't been apart yet.

“Hey,” Sara said, draping an arm around Ava, “I’m here.”

“Yeah,” Ava breathed out. “You are. And we’re engaged.” They grinned at each other and Sara pulled her onto the bed and into a kiss. Ava sighed into it, she thought she’d lost this. Home wasn’t the Waverider, home was Sara. “I love you.” Ava murmured as they broke apart.

“I love you too.” Sara said. “God, it was so weird to see your face but not your face. Some of them would smile all weird at me, and I just missed you, the real you so much.” She paused, “I think it was worse that they looked like you.”

“I missed you too. Hell, I kidnapped Spooner,” Ava muttered, “Oh god, I kidnapped Spooner.”

Sara laughed, “Aww babe, that’s so cute. Committing crimes for me.”

Ava rolled her eyes, “I can’t believe you told David Bowie you were going to propose to me.”

“You saw that?”

“That’s how we knew you were abducted,” Ava said and then swallowed thickly, “I watched it on repeat. I’m pretty sure the whole team was just waiting for me to snap.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I mean I did,” Ava sighed and clutched Sara a little tighter. “But you’re here, and we’re engaged,” a hint of wonder crept into her voice. “And we have to chase aliens through time.”

“Yes, but first,” Sara rummaged through her bedside table, “We should update this.”

“Update wha-” The words died on Ava’s tongue as she saw what Sara was holding. It was a simple slip of paper, with This spot is reserved for the girlfriend of Sara Lance written in her own handwriting. Sara grinned as Ava grabbed it, smoothing the creases, and staring over the words. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d written those words. Hell, it was a lifetime ago. She hadn’t even known she was a clone. “You kept this?” She muttered out.

“Yeah,” Sara said softly, “I couldn’t throw it away. Not when I found it, or anytime later.” She smiled as a hint of embarrassment crossed her face, “I’d leave it there,” She nodded at the bedside table, “So every time I’d open the drawer I’d see it.”

“Babe, this is,” Ava wiped away the sudden tears in her eyes, “I love you.” She breathed out.

Sara kissed her cheeks as tears trickled down, “I love you too.” And with a flourish, brandished a pen, “Let me.” She grabbed the note from Ava’s hands.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to update it, you aren’t just my girlfriend anymore.”

“Wait, babe, we should just wait until we’re married, there’s not a lot of room.” But Sara had already crossed off girlfriend and scribbled out fiance.

“There,” Sara brandished it.

“Actually, it needs another E, one E means I’m a man.”

“You’re so smart,” Sara said and dutifully added the E. “Perfect.”

Ava stared down at it, fiancee scrawled across it inSara’s messy handwriting and felt herself tear up again, “I can’t believe we’re here.”

Sara pressed a soft kiss, before moving the note back to her bedside table, “Me neither. But I’m so happy we are. You got me back here, I needed to see you again.”

“Oh Sara” Ava said and leaned up and met Sara for another kiss. “I needed to see you again too.”

A/N: the note survived the waverider blowing up because Sara brought it with her for the vows.