#thanks for asking about my cowboy!!!

[handthattakes]

Her name……….. is Howdy. Howdy the cowboy vampire. Howdy says say happy birthday to my girlfriend or else

[fidgetspringer-art]

Hi, I need more cowboy x punk stuff after the suggestive boots, I also kinda wanna see them slowly infect each other's style since they look like similar sizes

I'm never gonna pass up the chance to draw Noah wearing Martin's clothes ;)

[luckycharms1701]

So everybody talks about Leo or Raph calling you princess, but why is nobody talking about Future or Cowboy Leo calling you sweetheart or love?!

just….just imagine…

so i know i just got this and i’ve got seven requests in my queue before i should do this one but oh my god. oh my god it just wrote itself. i’m so sorry everyone who’s been waiting so patiently

Leo brings Trick to a halt, careful to jostle his passenger. “Welcome to the old homestead, sweetheart,” he says, making sure to infuse juuust the right amount of mockery into his voice as he gestures grandly towards the collection of buildings in front of them. He notes with amusement the way you go still in front of him. Good. He hopes you’re uncomfortable.

He dismounts the horse and turns to help you down, only to stop and blink. You are staring straight ahead at the ranch, lips thin and hands tight on the pommel. What surprises him, though, is the light pink dusting your face.

You don’t look at him, and a smirk slowly grows on his face. So that’s how it is, huh? Time to have a little fun. “Here, let me help you down, darlin’,” and this time he sees the way your eyes widen and your blush deepens.

You stiffly swing your leg over the pommel, and he softens his sharp smirk a little. Your gaze, however, lands on his shoulder, and he can’t help the way his lips twitch. Oh, this is exactly what he needed after the journey the two of you just suffered through.

He reaches up and lifts you down, once again surprised at how small you are. You’ve been such a huge thorn in his side that he’d forgotten how your hands can’t reach all the way around his biceps as he lowers you to the ground.

“Anythin’ you need, love, you just ask, alrigh’?” The way he deepens his drawl must be what does it, as your head whips up to glare at him even as your blush deepens to red and travels down your neck.

It’s Leo’s turn for his hands to tighten, around your waist rather than the pommel. He quickly lets go of your waist and steps back to hide the surprise. Why in tarnation was he wondering just how far that blush spread under your clothes?

You are still glaring at him, and his smirk sharpens. “Is there a problem, sweetheart?” This time he drawls it out in the way that’s turned many a lady into a stuttering mess. He is pleased to note the way your gaze falters and yours fingers tighten into fists. Good. At least he’s not the only one discomfited around here.

“After you, my dear.” You turn stiffly and stalk off, and Leo chuckles lowly as he gathers Trick’s reins and follows behind you. It’s about time things got a little more lively around here.

~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic @writinandcrying @xnorthstar3x @morenovix218 @donniesgirlie @gornackeaterofworlds @thelaundrybitch

[rayveneyed]

that cowboy au was really good 🥹 would you consider doing a part 2?

cw: mentions of death, violence, objectively amoral decisions; mentions of marriage, alcohol

the presence of gojo satoru can only mean trouble.

red sky in the morning — shepherd’s warning. nanami kento tries not to take the sight of it personally, tries not to take simple wonders of nature as omen — but it sits like a lump of coal in his stomach all through the morning and well into the afternoon. he doesn’t know why this particular day seems to be the harbinger of something terrible, but sure enough, just after he finishes milking the cows and putting them out to graze, one of the village kids runs up on him. flushed with excitement and hair windswept, the little one calls his name — mister kento! mister kento! hey, over here, mister kento! strange white-haired fella’s lookin’ for you, skulkin’ ‘round the saloon!

it’s a small-town child’s excitement — a stranger in such a quiet place, one where the closest train station is a town or two over, and the most exciting thing to happen is a travelling merchant every few months. kento’s dread, then, is ice-water over the head in comparison. white-haired. gojo, the bastard. and loitering around the saloon, where you’re working — before he can even think twice, he’s running off to mount his closest horse, and taking the dirt road at a frantic gallop.

not many words in any spoken language could describe exactly how nanami kento feels about gojo satoru. there’s a fondness there — they had, after all, fought and lived side-by-side for years, since they were boys. there was admiration for gojo’s tenacity and drive, no doubt, but there was hatred in equal measure. hatred for the man gojo had urged nanami to become — hatred for the shit he’d been told to do. hatred for the simple fact that, at the end of the day, gojo’s brashness had only ever gotten other people killed.

(and fear. fear that, like he had done a hundred times before, gojo would worm his way into nanami’s head, and convince him to return before he knew what he was agreeing to.)

through the dust kicked up by his mare’s cantering hooves, the humble saloon comes into sight; only a single floor, nothing like the multi-story pleasure houses of san francisco. then again, kento’s never much cared for them, or the beckoning women of the night, or the violent brawls that would break out every few minutes. somewhere quiet to drink in peace, suits him just fine, and that’s here. though with gojo satoru around, peace never lingers long.

he takes the stairs two at a time, pushing through the doors, and—

“always been a city boy, myself,” comes that familiar voice. instantly, kento’s eyes shoot towards it — towards you. “towns like this never did quite suit me — y’know, a man needs a bit of noise in his life!”

oh, noise had been the least of what gojo had gotten himself. blood and guts and bullet wounds, wanted posters with his name and mug plastered all over it.

he shouldn’t be here. it’s almost unnatural for him to be here, sitting in old man tom's favourite seat, lounging like he owned the place.

“now, pretty thing like you,” he hears gojo croon, low and smooth like always, the type of voice that weakened women’s knees, “you shoot me a look, sweetheart, i reckon i’d stay in this sleepy little town a lot longer.”

something like panic sits itself in kento’s chest, and he can’t put one damned finger on what it is. the clashing of two lives — gojo, with his hat drawn low over bright blue eyes, his jacket as dark and fitting as always; this dusty little saloon, with its untuned piano and cheap swill; you, with your hair tied up and your neckline low, with those eyes he knows gojo likes—

“charming,” he hears you say, dry, completely unimpressed. the tightness in his chest eases, a little, and then you seem to realise he’s approaching — your gaze lifts over gojo’s head, and your eyes brighten, and golly — ain’t that something? your smile, at his simple presence? like he was something to look forward to? “mister kento, you’re a man desired — this gentleman’s been looking all over for you, apparently.”

gojo turns those baby blues on him, expectant, and kento sighs as he takes the seat next to him — gently accepts your offer of a drink with a thank you kindly. gojo thanks you, too — calls you sweetness, and kento pretends that it doesn’t unsettle his soul. you resign yourself to the end of the bar to give them some semblance of privacy, wiping at glasses with a cloth to rid them of water-stains and dust.

they sit in silence for a moment, listening to the cicadas calling outside and the distant squeals of playing children. gojo, as usual, is the first to break it.

“been a while, ain’t it? gotta say, wasn’t expectin’ you to go all out on this country life thing, old friend.”

kento pretends not to see the spectre of you in the corner of his eye — pretends that he’s not vastly aware of how he has to balance two personas right now. he keeps his irritation low and tempered, cupping his glass between his hands; still, he knows his voice is frosty when he says: “what are you doing here?”

“oh, so cold, kento! and after all we’ve been through together…”

he restrains a frustrated sigh. dancing around it — that’s gojo. deceptively childish but incredibly intelligent — can’t just come out and say something. and kento could be doing something else right about now, something far more important — in fact, he should already be thinking of how to explain gojo’s abrupt appearance here to you. cousin twice removed? long estranged brother? childhood friend with a troubled streak? “doubt you came to see me outta the goodness of your heart. i’ve got no interest in whatever it is you’re peddling. you wanna drink, let’s drink. nothing else.”

“oh, come now. i gotta be after somethin’ to visit you?”

nanami shoots him an unimpressed look — gojo at least has the shame to wince. he takes another sip of his drink, and they both stare at the dusty shelves of booze, until finally, he shrugs.

“listen: this place is gonna drive you mad, kento,” he says, underhandedly casual, sipping on moonshine and syrup. he always did have a sweet tooth. “the silence’ll do you in.”

a thread of irritation tugs itself through kento’s brow. “silence drives you mad. suits me just fine.”

kento doesn’t know what’s more hurtful — the idea that gojo doesn’t know him at all, or that he does, and just doesn’t care to speak to him like it. he knows exactly what game gojo is playing at — badgering him out of his life of peace to join the gang again, fill the empty space left by geto and haibara and god knows who else that’s gone. he could do him the courtesy of being a little more believable, though. less patronising.

this doesn’t suit you. you don’t deserve something good like this, not after what you’ve done. stick to what you know, kento — and what do you know? violence. greed.

“c’mon, kento. you’re better than this, y’know.”

kento fingers tighten on the handle of his cup. his gums feel bruised where his teeth grit together — his anger like a reddening metal on the verge of turning white-hot. “you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“you’ve been up and down this goddamned country—” gojo, at least, has the mind to lower his voice, then, glancing over his shoulder— “tyin’ sheriffs up in knots, laying your pockets with gold, and you think this shithole will satisfy you any?”

that’s enough to send kento’s temper skyrocketing — and he, by no means, is an angry man, but shithole is not how he’d describe it in any capacity — this place that had accepted him with little wariness, treated him with kindness, asked very little questions—

“you’re steppin’ way outta line, gojo��”

but his white-haired companion has always been willing to push the bounds of just about anything — and, leaning closer, devilish smile tugging at his lips, says: “hopin’ that, uh, busty barmaid over there’s gonna make you an honest man? huh? i mean, hell, i wouldn’t blame you, but—”

nanami’s glass hits the countertop with such force it rings throughout the saloon — he can feel it draw the gaze of most everyone around. you, the few daytime drinkers. the low murmurs of conversation drew to an abrupt stop. when he glances in your direction, he sees you almost caught mid-action, brows drawn tight as you make to intervene.

maybe it’s the look in his eye that makes you stop; the serious, humourless glint he’s let himself lose the past few months. maybe it’s the tense set of his jaw. either way, you nod a little, and step back to what you were doing — but your gaze remains, ever-watchful.

nanami levels gojo with a glare so horrid he’s sure he’s never used it on him before; and, sure enough, blue-eyed gojo glares right back.

for a moment — for a short, traitorous moment, he regrets leaving his handy pistol back home. he hasn’t had to carry it in months. he hasn’t ever had to carry it for gojo, of all people, but he saw just how quickly the gang had turned on themselves — how quickly trust was lost. and after the loss of haibara, and geto’s betrayal, who knew what state of mind gojo was in?

kento’s fingers flex.

a beat passes.

and then — gojo’s face breaks out in a gleaming, cheeky smile, and his shoulders jump with loud, sonorous laughter. relief is near palpable in kento’s chest, the tension that had suctioned itself to his bones easing just slightly. “hah, you’re just a riot, ken!”

then, slapping a hand on kento’s shoulder and leaning forward, gojo calms a little. nanami gets the sudden feeling that it was all a rouse, right from the start. is he so out of practice he can’t tell what’s real and what’s fake anymore? once upon a time gojo’s jokes and fancies wouldn’t have made him blink an eye.

“just pullin’ your leg,” gojo says.

“you piss me off.”

“can’t lie—” gojo continues— “i was hopin’ to bring you back with me. but this shit really does suit you, y’know.” his smile takes a saddened edge — nostalgic, no doubt, for the life they once led. the stupidity and rashness of it all. sometimes the same feeling hit kento — and then he remembered the bad of it all, and he tucked it back deep inside himself. “country air, quiet life. settle down with a nice woman.”

his eyes trail over to the right — and this time, when his eyes settle on you, nanami feels no overwhelming protectiveness, no urge to drag gojo out by his silver locks or shoo him out. he feels a fool for doubting gojo in the first place. “things out here make the cities look like hell by comparison.”

“it’s a simple life,” kento agrees plainly. his heart still thrums heavy in his chest. he finally takes a proper gulp of his drink — actually tastes it instead of just letting it pass down his throat. “you should try it sometime.”

“wasn’t lying earlier. think the quiet would have me seein’—” he chokes on a bark-like laugh— “ghosts, and the like.”

haibara. riko. yaga.

“mm.”

they go back to staring at the shelves in silence. kento doesn’t know what to say. he’s never been a man of many words, but what does one say in this situation, anyways? i’m sorry geto left. i’m sorry haibara died. i hate that it was your fault, and i hate that it wasn’t. i don’t like the man i am when i’m around you, but it’s really all i know. you’re my brother, and i hate and love you in equal measure.

a trickling sound interrupts his thoughts. his cup is being refilled — and then gojo’s. extra syrup, despite the fact that sugar is expensive as all hell.

“looks like y’all could use it,” you say by way of explanation, a sorry little smile on your face. when you meet his eyes, it spreads, just a little — an extra nudge, just for him. “i’ll get outta your hair now.”

“thank you for the drink,” kento says quietly.

“thanks,” gojo echoes. he watches you go, and swirls his drink idly around in his cup. “y’know, you got somethin’ good here, ken. hate to say it.”

“mm. the farm, it — it, uh, keeps me busy.”

“wasn’t talkin’ about the farm,” says gojo, shooting him a knowing look. kento’s ears burn, and he tries to ignore it — in vain, he’s sure, if his companion’s snicker is anything to go by.

“there’s nothing there.” he wouldn’t allow there to be, after all. a life of solitude is exactly the punishment he deserved for what he’s done. he wouldn’t rope you into his madness.

“right, right. you make googly eyes at every woman y’come across?”

“just drink your damn drink.”

by the time the sun is setting, gojo sets off on his horse. he ignores all offers to stay the night, to wait until morning; he's got business to attend to, apparently, business that couldn't wait — but could, apparently, wait for an hours-long drinking session. he doesn’t hug kento, doesn’t make any claim to sentimentality — that hasn't changed, kento supposes — he only leans down to shake his hand, firm and sure like yaga had taught them as boys, and says:

“don’t be a fool, kento. you got a chance at a normal life right here." then, grinning, like the idea of being serious had turned his stomach, gojo calls: "you don’t take that chance, i'll steal it from right under you!"

kento only shakes his head, and turns to enter the saloon again.

when he looks over his shoulder — just once, all he can bear — gojo’s already gone, no more than a speck riding into the sunset.

[notsocharmingmagician]

Out of all your AU’s, which is your favorite, and do you have character designs for any of them? Please do tell! - 🎭 Drama Anon 🎭

I don't have destinct designs yet for most of my AUs but here are 6 of the ones I do have!! My favorite design so far has to be Dimentio from my L'Dunks AU since he has a bunch of pretty dresses he wears that are inspired by his canon costume.

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

Hiii i'm sorry if i'm intruding on the conversation by asking this question but i'd love to hear your take on ride 'em cowboy! :] I love that song (as i do all of lil beethoven, haha) and i'm really interested in what you have to say about it (i love going through your answers to these sparks asks by the way, and i definitely relate to the feeling of wanting to write entire essays about particular songs)

Hi friend! 😁 Wow it's such a treat that people have been enjoying reading this stuff! Thanks for the ask! (And thanks Sparks-anon, you started this! I hope you will enjoy this answer as well.)

Okay. RIDE 'EM COWBOY. They had NO REASON* to go this hard with this song. (*They had every reason - this is Sparks and this is Lil' Beethoven.)

What I think cuts so hard with this song is that the majority of the song is comprised of constantly flipping the switch from praise to disdain, from favour to rejection, from inclusion to exclusion - it's a total fall from grace, it's someone flopping completely, losing it all. Every phrase crafted to hit as hard as it can, but in a slightly different way every time, cutting deeper with every line. Starting relatively simple and straightforward with the lines "They laughed with me, then laughed at me", then building with every new line, and later in the song getting more metaphorical and it's even outright violent. (Ron *really* knows how to heighten how emotionally brutal certain experiences are and knows how to cut deep into that. A true master of words.)

…And then the song says, fuck that!! This will not be my defeat! “Ride ‘em cowboy, ride ‘em//I got thrown again//Ride ‘em cowboy, ride ‘em//Get back on again”

There's many ways one could perceive those lines. It can be a “keep going despite it all”, “keep going to spite them all”, a simple “try again”, and even “just go on with your life and let them talk”, or whatever else someone needs to hear to keep them going. (Heck, if someone were to say “ride 'em cowboy” means "fuck the haters", or "fuck it - we ball", I'd call that valid, too.)

A part of this song that struck me immediately early on in my Sparks journey was “From great to good// From good to fair//To barely pass//Stay after class”. I hadn't been out of highschool that long at that point and I'd been a “gifted student” who in the end was really depressed and barely passed. I hadn't really recovered yet from how defeated that had left me feeling. So these lines were immediately my new friends. And since then my love for this song has only deepened more and more over time. I've stomped into my uni building with Ride ‘Em Cowboy blasting on my headphones countless times, on the good days and the bad. It honestly was really good at helping me deal with the pressure of having been one of four non-males in a male dominated field, often being underestimated or expected to prove myself.

“It's not your day//It's not your week//It's not your month//It's not your year” Lyric status: SICK ✧⁠\⁠(⁠>⁠o⁠<⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠✧

I don't live that life anymore, but obviously there are always times in life when this song is applicable all over again. One could see it as a ruthless acknowledgement of the fickleness of people's favour and opinions (also people's opinions of themselves, I might add), and the fickleness of perceived success. And it's a strong reminder to not fall victim to it.

Instrumentally it's absolutely striking and it's such a powerhouse of a song, you don't need to be currently living it to keep loving the hell out of it. Something that I find really cool about this song as well is that when there's words, abbreviations, sayings, or references in it that you're unfamiliar with (as was the case for me as a non-American non-native English speaker) or if you don't know French (my highschool French was enough for this one and I'm a huge fan of “From open door//To merde, alors”), it doesn't make you miss out on the meaning, but you can look all that stuff up and get hit in the face by this song all over again and with extra force.

I only looked up all the abbreviations I was not familiar with earlier this year, and I got to say… “BMOC//Then MIA”, Big Man On Campus, then Missing In Action. Dangit Ron. *Chef's kiss*

…But still, the line to potentially win it all?

"Olé, then gored"

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hello

You spark joy

That is all

Good day

Marie Kondo can’t get rid of me now

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

9 please 👉👈

You have that freaky au of BJ Deetz that plagues my mind hehe

<3

they kiss ur ankle, and up your calves. "Please, baby.." the desperate tone but that dominant, humiliating fire in their gaze promising something sinister after.

Choices, Actions, Consequences - Chapter 10 - moonbunnyblues - Beetlejuice - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own]

[plan-3-tmars]

Intro to my blog !! :3

~ any prns | 16 | only ENG | 🇮🇪/🇵🇹 | you can call me mars or marsy! I'm bi and non-binary

~ mainly posting reblogs or talking about stuff I like, such as:

milgram

trigun

arcane

+ various different fiction podcasts!

~ Here are some things I like or things that changed my life (you're gonna have to guess which is which ^°^), aka an Interest Board:

~ basic dni; just be nice n respectful! (also 🇵🇸🇵🇸)

~ if you wanna be mutuals feel free to DM! new friends are welcome, I mostly follow back anyway

~ my blog isn't sorted by tags, sorry, I frankly can't be bothered to keep up with something like that but I'm gonna start using #marsy lore when i share stories about me, most likely in reblogs

~ I'm buried and corruption aligned, like a worm in the dirt 🪱⚰️

[x-gon-give-it]

Hey, do you think you'll ever finish your spideypool as cowboys fic? This is not meant to be like pushy or anything. I just reread the fics for a second time and remembered how much I love them. So, either way, I just want you to know that I love that cowboy au so so much, it gives me life. You're an exceptional writer! I would give my soul to you (I'm not kidding)

Awww I’m glad you love them!! ^\\\^ I do indeed plan on finishing the cowboy fic, I’ve just got a lot going on right now.

But in the meantime, have an unfinished sketch of the boys:

And yes, I will be needing that soul 🤲

[allylikethecat]

hi ally i loooooooove headcanons can i ask for some random hcs about atkh matty and george

AHHHH Thank you so much for reading All the King's Horses and caring enough about it to ask me about head canons! AH!

Okay, hmmm just like little silly things that I have in my head for them here we go:

Fictional!Matty has a bright yellow knock off hydro flask that he brings everywhere (he's that guy lol) and it's bright yellow purely because that means its extra noticeable so hopefully he won't lose it, and if he DOES lose it, at least he knows it's his when it eventually resurfaces

Fictional!George isn't close with his family- There is no bad blood and he sees them for holidays, they moved back to the UK / Belgium and he stayed in the US and there isn't a whole lot of common interest (they very much don't get the horse thing)

Fictional!George quit smoking after Fictional!Jamie ripped him a new one for being a "fire hazard around the barn" Fictional!Matty vapes when he can afford to, and Fictional!George has no idea

Fictional!George knows how to rope, he doesn't go often but he's surprisingly good at it, Fictional!Matty has sat in a Western saddle like twice ever

Fictional!Matty loves sour candy, so does Sally

Fictional!Matty loves trail riding/hacking out when given the opportunity. Fictional!George would never leave the arena if it was up to him, the arena is his happy safe place

Fictional!George's first horse was a piece of shit quarter pony that he got for $500 from the kill pen - it bucked him off at least twice a week

Fictional!Matty's first pony was a very fancy welsh pony with a dirty stop, which, as a trainer's son is how he ended up with her. They went to pony finals three times before his Mum decided she was over ponies and he was going to suck it up and ride horses now

This was so fun! Thank you so much for reading, your continued support and sending me this ask! I hope your Monday is going well and that you have a great week!

❤️Ally

[glassfullofsass]

Queen of the Rodeo - A Ronance AU

Playlist

Nancy Wheeler grew up in the saddle. She's spent more time on horseback than on her own two feet, and she's loved every second.

But on the other side of forty, it's getting harder to ignore what it's cost her.

She'd done her time as rodeo queen like her mother before her, but unlike Karen, Nancy hadn't married up and settled down when her year was done. Instead, when it was time, she passed the crown on to the inimitable Erica Sinclar, and kept competing.

She'd had a good run, too, winning more breakaways than she scratched and constantly breaking her own records on the barrel races. But then her roping partner Barb had taken a bad fall and quit the arena all together, leaving Nancy to face the circuit alone.

Since then, Nancy's been the only rider on Coach Hopper's roster, and the old sheriff has been hinting at his own retirement for a while. Even his lady, the legendary Joyce Byers, idol of every cowgirl west of the Mississippi, had given up rodeos younger than Nancy was now, though she even still worked hard as a rancher.

Joyce certainly hadn't started riding roughstock at thirty like Nancy did, seizing an open slot at a back country rodeo that didn't care too much about propriety. And since then, Nancy’d driven two or three states over any time the WPRA could pull together enough competitors.

Nancy doesn't regret it, even when it hurts, even when she loses.

But it's starting to hurt more often than it doesn't, and she's losing more often than she wins these days. Plus, Barb isn't the only friend Nancy's run off; she burned a lot of bridges and broke a few hearts to earn her place at the top. She still loves the rodeo like nothing else, but it's getting to be lonely.

It’s also a long way down. She's not sure the Harringtons will keep her on as a ranch hand if she's not bringing prizes to their stables, and if she has to leave behind ranching on top of leaving the rodeo…

Something has to give soon, though. Nancy can read the writing on the wall: she's slowing down and even though it's only in milliseconds, it makes a difference on the breakaway.

If Nancy could let go and trust that she'd land on her feet, maybe she could get out of her own way. She's pushed away friends, family, and lovers, but if she'd risk being vulnerable just enough, she could still reconnect with a community – and one woman in particular – that still loves her.

Robin Buckley's parents made a number of decisions about her life that were supposedly for her safety. The wisest was, probably, never letting her near a horse.

So, though she grew up out in ranch country, surrounded by brush and cowboys, Robin's never so much as given a colt a sugar cube, let alone ridden a full grown mare or – heaven forbid – a stallion.

That doesn't mean she doesn't appreciate a good rodeo. Or the riders, anyway.

But being an admirer – particularly of a woman's sport – doesn't pay the bills. 

Nor does an associate's degree in Spanish, as it turns out. So much for her late nights at the community college.

Once upon a time, Robin had bigger dreams. And it's not impossible to still chase them. Steve'd offered to take her, to load up his truck with their bags and just drive until they got somewhere. 

Robin knows she could do something, if she was somewhere. But that means leaving, and as much as Robin once thought she had to, it doesn't feel as necessary as it once did. And it’s a little more frightening, the idea of starting over, now that she’s no longer young and restless.

She has a place here now. She has regulars at the diner, and regulars at the bar, and Steve.

And yeah, sue her. She has some unresolved heartbreak courtesy of the local rodeo queen emeritus. It's been more than a few years since she and Nancy had anything between them, but messy and flash-paper quick as it was, Robin still carries a torch for her.

Hell, Robin has carried a torch for Nancy since they were both thirteen, and Robin wheedled her aunt into taking her to the rodeo for the very first time.

Nancy had been glorious, all red bows and silver thread, lightening quick around the barrels in a perfect clover leaf, strong and steady on a beautiful gray horse that thundered around the pen, kicking dust in its wake.

It's not like Robin had been naïve, going into things. Nancy wasn't the first cowgirl Robin had hooked up with, and she'd known she was hardly Nancy's first partner either. So Robin knew what she was getting with Nancy, the night she'd looked Robin over with those deep brown eyes and smiled honey-sweet.

She knew it wouldn't last, and that was fine.

Until it wasn't, because it did last. Longer than Robin expected, long enough that she forgot to hold back. Long enough that she forgot why she shouldn't fall in love.

She'd gotten burnt pretty bad, for that mistake.

Still, it had been years. Robin had moved on, had other partners, other relationships, had even been in love again.

Her breath still catches when she sees Nancy, and she's learned to live with it. She's just not sure she could live without it.

If she could find the resolve, Robin might find fulfillment elsewhere, where her ear for languages might be appreciated as more than a party trick and she wouldn't be dependent on tips to keep her lights on. But if she'd take a chance and risk her heart one more time, she'd find that the cowgirl of her dreams might be ready for a change of pace, too.

[backseatloversz]

men will do anything but fold the clean laundry at the foot of their bed that is keeping them up until 3am because its on the foot of their bed and theyre too lazy to fold it or move it so they will do anything else while still awake until 3am with laundry. at the foot of their bed

[brown-little-robin]

may i hear your AU idea? :)

YES YOU MAY!!!

This is a post-canon AU for Trigun and will contain major spoilers <3

I don't know how much you know about Trigun and Livio, so I'll give you the cliffnotes version!! Livio is an ex-assassin who tried to kill the main character (Vash), failed, but did things he really regrets. Vash forgives him, and Livio starts the hard work of becoming the kind of person he really wants to be (gentle, kind, a protector). Of course, I imprinted on him immediately.

Livio has Dissociative Identity Disorder, which isn't always portrayed perfectly, but dang it's one of the best representations I've seen. His alter's name is Razlo, and Razlo is. really scary. But he's not evil. This is so important to me 😭😭😭

So anyway this AU is post-canon. Livio goes to the orphanage he grew up in and settles in as a working man. He slowly learns to communicate with others (and Razlo) about how he works as a person... what he needs and wants... he grieves, and he works, and he feels useful, and sometimes he gets to be useless, and that's okay too. He gets to be human again.

If I wanted to get REALLY fun with it, I might do something with his healing factor / the results of his being a human experiment that got turned into a weapon. The physical strain of growing into an upper-20s man physically in just a year, from age eight? Chronic pain Livio is something that can be so personal... also some of the older kids probably recognize him from when he lived in the orphanage, so THAT would get interesting (and by interesting I mean heartbreaking)

If I wrote this out, one of the main plots would be him integrating into his local church :') I just really need Livio to have a loving and broken-but-healing community. And Trigun canonically HAS Christianity!! I need a character to actually BE Christian for once! and aaaahhh Livio would be so perfect.....!!!

anyway there's SO Much I could do with Livio, I love him SO MUCH vibrating he's my cowboy son guy and I need him to slow down and process what's happened to him and what he's done. And I also need him to eat apples and sleep and heal and get given flowers.

I mean, LOOK at him!

[staggbones]

Who was he?

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

hello. I don't have any much of ask this time, mainly wanting to know which spark song you've been hyper in it(if you comfortable to say of course) and rant

I haven't listened to any songs lately since depression has tighten it grips on me causing me get overwhelmed/over-sensitive to voices but there is this verse keep repeating in my head from change by sparks for unknown reasons (consider I'm not good at memorizing lyrics so I only know this part of song)

Change; every dog is gonna have his day // Change; every loser's gonna have his way// Change; I don't care what other people say

i think you had said one or two things about this song to me before but I never opened the discussion cause I feel we will talk ENDLESSLY about it. each sentence in this song carries lot meanings, the full song has it deep heavy meaning while it looks clear as well -very spark type of thing- (like ocean I suppose? at least to me. with clear surface but deepness) and the feelings that arise when I focus on each lines, it goes into my heart before sinks in my soul (I also want to cry with - could be because I'm depressed)

I think is one of those songs I love from sparks that get me go numb on the kitchen floor like the angst on my pants if I let it posses me.

the previous answer still has me! still thinking about and trying to gather my thoughts over it, your overlook on full album by pointing the main concept of each song had me to listen to full album with closer look this time (+ the additional reblog from that account made some good points too (thank you! if you reading this :))

Hello again! ^^ So nice to see you in my ask box once more :)

I'm sorry to hear depression is being really tough on you at the moment, I hope things will be a bit better again soon ⁠♡ Change is a good song to hold your hand through dark days, the part of the lyrics you've highlighted in your message say it all. I really like what you said about the song and so I'll just give you a knowing smile because I think we understand each other perfectly well :)

I'm glad you enjoyed the previous answer and that you're still thinking about it, I love them so much for having made an album like that in these times :) (Hey @parts-of-me-unravelling thanks again for your addition about crying in one's latte ☺️)

I'm always comfortable talking about any song that I've been fixated on but I've honestly not listened to a lot of music recently (I've also been down in the dumps a bit and crave silence a lot). Sparks is always there though in other ways even when I'm not listening to music: I recently got a poster that I feared I'd missed out on. It made me so happy! It's good memories and a truly great photo. I also bring Sparks up in random conversations a lot, yesterday a friend was talking to me about pandemic isolation times and how people would only dress up the upper half of their bodies for zoom calls. ...so I was thinking of when Sparks made a video in which Russell stood up to show off his polka dot shorts, to which Ron said he wasn't going to stand up because he wasn't wearing shorts and it was supposed to be a pg rated video 😂 (I appreciate these guys so much.) It's in one of their 2020 videos on Instagram, all of which are very worth watching btw. (During self-isolation Russell treated us to singing lessons and workout sessions, Ron showed off his hand sanitizer collection and "The Ronald D. Mael Museum of stones and shells" (if I remember the name correctly), we got A Day In The Life Of Russell, Russell showing off his fridge magnet collection, and weekly lyric reads from Ron, as well as a couple of live recordings of songs from home. Honestly they were sweet as hell for doing all of that, I treasure all of these videos immensely. ... They might be good to watch actually if you need a mood boost :))

But here's something I've been hoping to tell you as there's something exciting coming up for the Sparks fandom: Sparkstember. It's a full month of celebrating Sparks and all their different albums and projects, and it takes place in September. The prompts list hasn't been posted yet but I'm going to assume it's not too dissimilar from last year. People can engage with the prompt/album of the day in any way they like so it's not only about art, though a lot of people make art for every single day of the month, and it's just really fun :) (Also a bit insanity inducing haha, I've now made art for every single day of it for the last 2 years while also trying to keep up with everything my friends have made. I very much intend to do it again this year.) People partake on any social media platform they like, though I personally especially enjoy it on Instagram. Sparks see and share a lot of the stuff that we put out there, so it's a really nice way of letting them know what they mean to us :) There's always too much about them that I can't put into words, also there's just too much to say, so having a whole month and going album by album is really good for that. (I mean, you've seen how I can write a whole essay about just one song. And they've got so many songs, albums, tours, photos, interviews, music videos, etc etc.) So I've been preparing for that these last weeks, and I'll keep the details about it to myself because my answer is getting so long already 😅 (Plus, I'll be going on about every album for the whole of next month anyway.) What I will share though is this tumblr post I made about these lyrics from the song Let's Make Love. You may have already seen that post float by, but it says everything about my motivation for Sparkstember and how much I love Sparks. (Gratuitous tag rant included on the post 🙃)

...sorry to go all "I love Sparks" on you today, without really talking about a song (I truly could write a whole book about them and their work though, plus there isn't really a separation between them as people and their art, it all exists as one massive universe but it's also all one and the same thing). Though the Sparks fan experience is basically Sparks fans constantly telling each other how much they love Sparks anyway so, well, there you go. The Sparks fan experience 👍🏻

The world could use more joy at the moment, or at least I know I could use it and could use things to make me want to keep going, so have this fun homemade music video from 2020 as my parting gift. Just because both the song and the video never fail to make me smile :)