#and this song tells me fuck yeah you do that go with it

[maybank5]

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞

pairing ⤜ yn x jj

summary ⤜ a happy future fic, because we need some healing; jj on the beach with his family reflecting on his life.

a/n ⤜ how are we doing fam? me? not so well. this has been the hardest fictional moment that's ever hit me. i'm choosing to believe our boy is still off somewhere and gonna have the best, most fulfilled and loving future. sending hugs and love to each of you!!

song inspo ⤜ no song inspo for this one; but i did have 'nights in white satin' on repeat as i wrote

The sun is setting over the horizon, sinking down into the ocean and melting into streams of gold and orange against the shimmering water. JJ Maybank perches on his surf board for a moment, admiring it. He's never considered himself to be the most religious of people. Sure, he attended Sunday school as a kid, knows the bible stories decently enough; and yeah, there's times when he catches himself praying. Like the time John B got into that nasty accident, or when his son was born. There'd been complications, things had been touch and go for a moment. JJ had pressed his head against the glossy white wall of the hospital waiting area, hoping to God that things would be okay, as John B and Sarah rubbed his back comfortingly.

The one time JJ didn't pray might have been the one time he should. He'd been stabbed, by his son of a bitch father. Not Luke, the "real one" though JJ found it almost funny how he preferred to think of Luke fuckin' Maybank as his actual father. At least Luke had never tried to stab him. But that was beside the point; JJ had been stabbed, and things were not looking good. John B had felt for a pulse and had felt nothing. JJ can still remember the feeling of floating away, like riding a wave to the horizon. He hadn't prayed then. Instead, he'd made peace with his fate. He'd lived a pretty damn full life in 20 years, and if this was the end of it, so be it. At least on the other side, no one would be trying to hurt him, right? That sounded mighty nice to him. So he'd closed his eyes and let himself drift off towards that horizon.

Only instead, he'd woken up in a hospital, still very much alive. His best friends at his side. Pope and Kiara barely left his side, and John B had practically crawled into the bed with him to hold him in his arms until a nurse had yelled at him. JJ doesn't remember feeling such love until that moment. And that was when it all changed. He'd been given a second chance, and an opportunity to see just how loved and valued he is. He was never going to squander it or take it for granted again.

The sun is sinking lower, the water in front of him glittering in gold. JJ pushes his wet hair back off his forehead to admire it. Years ago he'd have just shrugged it off. Sunsets were a dime a dozen. Not anymore though. Now JJ takes the moment to sit and watch and appreciate.

He glances back to the shore, where his wife and baby are playing in the sand. Harley John Maybank's (it'd be a cold day in hell if JJ ever took the name of that man) new favorite thing was trying to rush to the water, his mom and dad hot on his heels. JJ could tell already that Harley was going to be a handful, and he couldn't fucking wait.

The waves were rising higher. It'd make for a sick surf tonight. JJ bites his lip, turns and paddles back to the shore. Some priorities rank higher than waves.

He tucks his board under his arm and hurries over to where the two of you are building a sandcastle with Harley's little castle-shaped buckets.

"Hey, baby," you glance up at your husband, reaching out and touching his cheek with his hand, always little assurances like that to make sure he's real, "Not surfing?"

"Nah," JJ shakes some water from his head, "Much rather'd build sand castles with this little one," he ruffles Harley's head of blonde hair, glistening in the sunlight.

You can't help but smile as he sinks down into the damp sand to help Harley stuff sand into his buckets. Moments like these is when it truly hits you, just how blessed you are.

JJ gently helps Harley, his eyes so soft and full of love and devotion. Harley John is his utmost pride and joy. He's always been soft with you, but the gentleness in which he treats your son is beyond anything you could imagine.

JJ packs the sand into the bucket with the back of a little plastic shovel. He wonders if maybe there was a time he'd done this as a boy, but shakes the thought from his head. It doesn't matter. He can do it now. He can do it with Harley.

"Sarah called earlier," your voice pulls JJ from his thoughts, "She and John B are going to have Baby Jackson christened. John B is supposed to ask you to be the godfather tomorrow, but Sarah couldn't wait to tell me. You know the two of them, it's not a church thing or anything. Just The Pogues and the ocean."

"Sounds nice," JJ says, wrapping his arms around Harley and pulling him softly onto his lap.

JJ reaches for your hand, pulling you to him as well. He presses a kiss the back of your hand, holding your hand and running his thumb over your knuckles. Nothing ever feels one hundred percent real unless JJ can feel it, touch it, revel in it. He tosses his head back as the evening breeze licks through his hair.

And in that moment, JJ can't help but stop and say thank you.

Because JJ Maybank lives every day in paradise.

[toxicanonymity]

Hey Boo,

I've been seeing Joelkemons making the rounds being the best kind of dude to have around when you're crying.

Is Stepdad is having very strong feelings about all of this too? I imagine of Raider (LOML) and NW are being so soft with us, something in stepdad might respond to our hopelessly impotent rage.

I'd love to see how he reacts.

Boy howdy, tho, if I could slip into the brothel and have a big ol' Joel-pile, that shit would fix me all the way.

Thank you so much for everything you do and are.

I hope you're taking care of yourself too.

-- Cupquake <3

black tuesday

JOEL x f!READER | 1000 words

WARNINGS: 18+. Election Night. ANGST. Tears. Fears. This is intended to be a cathartic fic with some comfort but please don't read if it could be traumatic. Allusions to reproductive rights, etc. Reader is angry, esp. at men, takes it out on joel a little. Joel is supportive. Reader dacryphilia, brief smut. STEPDAD AU but you don't need to know it, and the stepcest doesn't come up.

NOTES: Sweet Cupquake, you're welcome and thank you for always being so supportive. Poor stepdad, he's normally the one needing comforting, isn't he? Yes, he has strong feelings about all this. This doesn't fit neatly in the AU timeline just roll with it. My brief post on the election is here. This will most likely be my only fic that overtly acknowledges the u.s. election. DO NOT INTERACT: TRUMP VOTERS, ANTI-CHOICE PEOPLE, MINORS.

You’re sitting on the floor of your apartment watching the news while Joel makes dinner and a huge mess in the kitchen. When the early votes are counted, we’ll see a lot more blue, they said. No, actually. Not really. You turn the volume way down so you can barely hear it. 

“Pasta’s ready,” Joel announces in a weak, sing-song voice. 

You remain on the floor. Your breathing is shallow, and it doesn’t feel real. 

Joel comes into the living room but doesn’t sit down. He stands with his arms crossed. His neck veins are bulging, his biceps are tense, his jaw clenches as he watches the screen. He’s pissed, he’s so angry watching this happen. He’s embarrassed to be a Texan. He thinks about all the women he knows. Embarrassed to be a man. 

He looks back and forth between the tv and you, and he sees your eyes are watery. He brings your glass of water from the kitchen, but you refuse it. He puts it down on the coffee table. Then, he picks up the remote control and turns off the tv. 

“Why’d you do that?” you snap. 

“It’s only makin’ ya sad,” Joel replies. “It’s still early, there’s time.” 

“Sad?? You think I’m sad?” Heat rises to your face. Your chest tightens.  

“Okay,” Joel acknowledges softly. “I can see you’re not just sad.” 

He sits down and tries to put his arm around you but you scoot over to face him. 

“All you men just go around blowing your loads everywhere and we’re the ones who have to deal with it, and you have the nerve to tell us how.” 

“I’d never tell you how to--you know that.”

“--I am so fucking tired of men talking.” 

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and sits quietly next to you for a minute. It’s hard knowing there’s nothing he can do or say, but he’s not going to leave you unless you tell him to. 

He clears his throat and asks softly, “Would anything make ya feel better?”

“Only waking up from this nightmare.”

“Yeah,” he acknowledges. 

“I don’t wanna feel better,” you begin to cry. “I want it to not happen….Like, is this real life?” 

None of it feels real. Months ago, people in stupid red hats were carrying around actual sperm cups. The highest-profile rapist in the country called himself the father of fertility, and crowds of people cheered. He said “mass deportation” and people cheered more. And then half the country voted for these sick, twisted buffoons. 

“You want some space?” Joel asks. 

“No,” you protest tearfully.

He hesitantly brushes the back of your neck with his thumb. This time, you let him put his arm around you. 

You whisper, “I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Sweetheart, it ain’t over. We got time.” 

You shake your head no, ‘cause you can feel it in your gut. 

Joel sits in silence for a moment, and you can’t see it, but he’s tearing up because he can feel you burning and he’s powerless. 

He holds you and strokes your back while you bury your face in his chest. He discreetly checks his new york times app and tries not to react out loud- it’s only getting worse. 

After a few minutes of silence, he whispers your name, and you respond, “mm?”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. 

You look up to see his cheeks wet, his hair messy. Your heart swells with affection. Affection and��� gratitude? God, the bar is in hell. But to be fair, you really love him. You’re grateful for the man he is, not the one he isn’t. 

Desire begins to stir in your chest.

Joel presses a kiss onto your forehead, then lifts your chin, and you look at each other. He brushes away a tear from your cheek. With his own cheeks still wet, he swallows, and the emotional bob of his Adam’s apple sends a rush of arousal to your core. You put your hand on the back of his neck and pull him toward you for a kiss. 

Affection and relief floods your body. It’s temporary, of course, but you let yourself have this. You let the nightmare fade into a spicy dream. 

You straddle him and he pulls you close and moans into your mouth. You kiss him desperately and feel him harden under you. He hesitates and mutters, “sorry,” trying to read the room. He pushes your thighs back, trying to put some distance between you and his hard-on. 

“Stop,” you reply, then latch onto his mouth again. He breaks away and says, “Just don’t want ya to feel like I–” 

“Shut up,” you tell him, then scoot yourself closer, your crotch firmly planted on the warm, stiffening shape in his sweatpants. You grind your hips into him. He kisses you back with increased fervor, and moans into your mouth. Kissing passionately, your loins throb warmly together and your hips move in rhythm. 

You reach between the two of you and slide your hand down his sweatpants. You palm his leaking manhood. Pressing it against his tummy, you gently move the skin on his shaft, and  He groans.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and thrusts against your hand. 

You stand up to urgently take off your pj pants. 

His man-guilt is still eating at him. Squeezing his aching hard shaft, he lets out a moan, then weakly offers, “Are you sure you wanna…”

In response, you straddle him, hot and dripping against his bare arousal.  You slide against him, throbbing and ready. Then, as you slide his tip to your entrance, you warn him, “Get it while it’s on the table.” You sink down on him and he shudders. Then he thrusts upward and moans as he bottoms out.  

“My legs’ll be closed for business soon,”  you explain. 

He closes his eyes and breathes deep as your body accommodates his.  “Fair enough,” he answers thoughtfully, then opens his eyes. “Wait. Even if my face is the customer?” 

------

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NOTES: I actually wrote three Stepdad things, and chronologically, this is no. 2 of 3. The others aren't posted yet. The first one is a standalone pregnancy scare, nothing about the election (would've been before it). And the second one is a post-election talk about contraception.

My brief post on the election is here.

Thank you for reading. Please remember to take care of yourselves <33

[worshipme]

when she asks if the song choice was okay, tyler immediately nods his head. "yeah, of course this is more than okay. don't worry about it, yaz. i wanna hear what you've put together. even if they're downtempo." he brings her hand back up to his lips and punctuates his words with a kiss to the back of her hand. it was nothing short of the truth. while tyler's known to listen to more uptempo songs and that was his preference, he truly wanted to listen to what yaz had put together for them to listen to. she had put her time into making the playlist and he would rather die than not give her the space to share what she's made.

"i think it's fitting for the gallery we're going to. called swivel gallery. it's actually their inaugural grand opening exhibition's last day before they rotate out the collection. more contemporary art and all that." he tells her as their hands fall back into her lap. he listens to the song and its not one he's familiar with. of course, when listening to a song for the first time, sometimes its hard to catch on to lyrics that aren't repeating. but the one that does repeat immediately catches his attention.

i won't waste a day 'less i'm wasting away with you.

"what's the name of this one? can you text me it, please? i wanna add it to a playlist of mine." he asks her. "this guy gets me, seriously. we should listen to this while we-" he cuts himself off, and tyler realizes he's yet to ask yaz a very important question.

"wait, do you smoke? or like... weed. you fuck with weed?"

post-dated 11.11.24:

As she looked at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but exhale several deep breaths. She wasn’t entirely sure that this was nerves - it couldn’t be. Her and Tyler at this point were already well acquainted, so the danger of the unknown when it came to dating wasn’t entirely applicable here ... yet still, she wanted to make a good impression for him.

Outfit after outfit laid on her floor in her indecision before opting for a tight, black dress with several revealing cut-outs. She had been going back and forth while she did a small turn in the mirror. Was this trying too hard? Was there even such a thing? She knew just from her comfortability with Tyler that he would be fine with her just wearing a paper bag … but it wasn’t good enough for her. He deserved to have her at her best, just as he had done the same for her since they began whatever blooming relationship this was beginning to be.

“You think this is fine, Tofi?” She spoke to the dog like he’d give her any kind of validation and in own way, he did. With a wag of his tail and expression, happy as ever. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to the top of her pup’s head before grabbing her purse to head out the door. “Be a good boy. I’ll be back later.” She hushed as the clinks of her heels followed her out the door, leading her to Tyler’s front door. And with a baited breath, she knocked.

[megumislovedoll]

super shy? no, super lucky

⠀ ⠀— chapter 2 of the cool with you series

yn pov 3rd person

She sighed, finally finishing her test. Now, it was time to see what she got on it. She'd been lucky enough to remember her test was today just in time, but now let’s see if she was lucky enough to get a good grade despite her last minute studying, constantly leaving online classes early, and turning in assignments late. 

Which the only reason why these things would happen is because of newjeans. 

“ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh,” she whispered, her hand shaking as she reached for the refresh button—or maybe she was just being dramatic. She pressed it, and then—“YES! OH MY GOD!” she cheered, seeing her grade: a B. 

Just as she was about to scream some more, a text popped up, it was utahime reminding the group about an afternoon dance rehearsal for their new song, Supernatural.

“Right, rehearsal,” she murmured, calming down a little but still feeling the excitement. She grabbed her dance bag and was just about to leave when she caught a look at her reflection in the mirror by the door. Maybe she should actually get ready for the day—considering she’d just ran out of bed in panic earlier today and hadn’t even showered yet.

Megumi’s pov 3rd person

morning classes are done, and now he has about an hour and thirty minutes until his afternoon classes. Everyone else is out of the dorm doing something, except Toge, who’s napping on the couch. Megumi opens the fridge—nothing, besides four eggs left. "Of course," but he pulls the eggs out of the fridge and starts cooking them, which makes Toge’s big back ass wake up.

"Can I get some?" Toge asks.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because there’s only four, and you guys are always eating everything anyway."

Toge groans. Maybe a few minutes later, Megumi gets a text from Yuuta: "megumi it’s your turn to get the groceries and share some eggs with toge"

"No way you just snitched on me," Megumi says. "Shareeee, Megumi."

"You know what," he says, "since you wanna be so big..." He puts the cooked eggs onto a plate. "Have the rest. I don’t fucking care."

He moves toward the door and grabs his keys. 

"Wait, where are you going?" Toge asks.

"To get some groceries, since you wanted to tell on me," he replies, leaving the dorm.

Yn pov 3rd person 

It’s been about 15 minutes, and Uber won’t fucking work. She tried reopening the app, restarting her phone, deleting and downloading the app EVERYTHING but it won’t work. She also tried asking the other members to pick her up; half of them are already there, and the other half hasn’t seen her message.

“guess I’m just gonna have to walk.”

The walk isn’t exactly long, just a few minutes, but it’s still risky considering she could get noticed. So, she’s gonna have to wear a mask and some glasses. She went down the stairs, then out the door, walking down the street with her head down as well so she could definitely not be noticed. Amazing idea, right?

Yeah, until you bump int—

masterlist!

TAGLIST @cinnamxnangel @sorenflyinn @beepbopzlorp @angelcakkess @ibeatmywifeandkidss @h-aecat @megumisluciouslashes @gumims @starrysho @tlissablr @kiss-my-asscheeks @good-mourning0 @mikikoo @1l-ynn @stillnotherapy @kzoyu @brideads @mikko-mikko  @shokosbunny @fushiguruuzzzz @hanniemylovelyquokka @adoremae    @ocyeanicc @sentifua @sirenla @depressinglyobsessed @m1ndfulsorrows

©megumislovedoll all rights reserved. do not translate, repost on other platforms, modify, or copy.

[sunarots]

BETTER THAN REVENGE! ━━━ tooru oikawa & rintarou suna

13. first day ♡

cw. smoking weed & drinking

A heavy silence lingers over the band as you sit in Rin's car, the only sound being the songs through the stereo. Atsumu plays some of your band's unfinished songs, the three of you choosing to speak only when you come up with an idea that he writes into his notes on his phone.

You clear your throat, taking in a long toke of the joint between your fingers. You hold it in for as long as you can before passing it over for Rin to finish. You breathe out, resting your head against the window and looking towards the set.

"Why the fuck did I agree to this?" you ask, looking over to the boys once more with a slight smile. "Seriously, what's wrong with me?"

Rin laughs, shaking his head and stubbing out the joint in the ashtray on his lap. "Yeah, what were you thinking?"

Shaking your head, you run your hands down your face and look to Atsumu in the back of the car. He keeps his eyes on his phone, selecting a new file. He leans back in his seat, takes in a deep breath of the hotboxed car, and joins you both in laughing. “Clearly, ya weren’t thinking. But what’s new there?”

“Wow, low blow. I’m so fragile and you’re insulting me?” You place a hand on your chest in faux offence.

“Acting like you don’t tell us to kill ourselves daily,” Rin points out, flashing you a wide smile. “You ready to go in? I need my car to air out before we drive home later. You know, so I don’t get arrested.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you turn to look at the building. You take in slow, deep breaths, and crack the window open before exiting the car. You slam the door shut, waiting for the others to exit the car.

Rin stops at your side, watching as you lean further back into the car door. He rests a hand on your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. “Hey.” You look up at him reluctantly. “You can do this. Let’s go.” He drops his hand from your shoulder, carefully intertwining his fingers with yours and tugging you forward.

You press your lips into a firm line and nod your head, having to fight the smile wanting to show itself at the action. You fall into step alongside him, letting out a heavy sigh. Using your free hand, you reach into the pocket of your jeans to pull out your vape, Rin laughing at you.

“You can’t go two minutes without that,” he says, shaking his head in disappointment. “If you’re gonna smoke, do it right with a packet of Seven Stars.”

Atsumu bursts into a fit of laughter, making you choke on the smoke. “You sound like a fucking advert I get when I’m halfway through a youtube video.” He takes the vape from your hand, ignoring your arguments and takes a hit before handing it back over.

You scoff, sharing a look with the amused Rin before taking a final hit and stuffing it in your pocket. “Why am I in a band with you guys again?”

“Because you love us,” Rin says, pulling open the door and giving you a small smile.

You sigh, “Debatable,” and follow Atsumu through the doors.

There’s a long corridor marked with signs and directions, doors with peoples’ names written on them and others with NO ACCESS in big red letters stuck on. Some workers with lanyards like your own walk past, flashing smiles and fleeting greetings before hurrying off to finish their tasks. At the end of the corridor is a glowing sign reading FILMING IN PROGRESS above a small, black door.

You stop Rin from opening the door, pulling him back so you can have another minute to prepare yourself. You turn to face Atsumu, reaching a hand out to him. “I know you have a flask. You always do. Where is it?”

Atsumu goes to protest, but accepts that he won’t win. He looks around himself before reaching inside his jacket pocket, handing it over to you. “Not all of it. I have the rest of the bottle in my car, but I don’t want to have to- Are ya fucking kidding me? Why don’t ya listen to me?”

You smile at him sheepishly as you hand it back over, empty. “I’m sorry. I needed it a lot more than you, though.” You straighten your posture and look between them, eyes lingering on Rin. “Let’s do this.”

The door swings open in front of you, narrowly missing hitting Atsumu square in the face. Your free hand flies up to cover your mouth to try and stop yourself from laughing at the man who barely managed to keep his balance.

“I’m so sorry! Are you- oh…”

Your shoulders tense, smile fading from your face as you face Emiko. Her black hair is loosely curled for the show, dressed in a pair of blue mom jeans and a tight white top. She smiles up at you through a barely made-up face, and yet all you can focus on is her pure beauty.

“Y/n! Go onto set, I’m taking a quick bathroom break and then we’ll be starting up. It’s so nice to meet you guys!” Emiko squeezes between you and Atsumu with a wide smile and a wave.

You sigh, tugging at Rin’s hand and leading them onto the set. The crew are all talking, and even though you can’t pick out what anyone’s saying, you can hear his voice. It carries through the room, louder than everyone else’s, and somehow still as gentle as ever. He laughs at something, the sound echoing inside of you and drowning out everything else in the room.

You grip tighter onto Rin’s hand as you come into view of everyone there, and the first to notice you is none other than Satan himself. He straightens himself up, keeps waving his hand as though he were speaking, and yet no words were coming out. He clears his throat, gestures for the crew member to look at the group of you, and stays with his eyes on you.

You swallow hard, struggling to tear your gaze away from his. You release your hold of Rin’s hand, instead wrapping both of your arms around his to keep him close to you. Ripping your stare away from him, you turn to face Rin and Atsumu. “I am going to have a lot of fun writing great songs about cheatykawa.”

masterlist. previous | next

summary. as a world-famous singer, everyone knows everything about all of your relationships. namely, your renowned on-again/off-again relationship with one tooru oikawa. it’s hard not to when every song you write is about him. but no one truly knows all of the gory details of all your dirty breakups, except from the two of you. and after announcing in a drunken red-carpet interview that you never want to see his face again, everyone starts desperately searching for the truth behind your twisted relationship. and just when you think you can escape these rumours, in comes a job opportunity your band can’t turn down.

taglist (open!). @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @iaminyourfloors @rrosiitas @v3nusplanetofluv @draculauracullen @lollbecca @honeytwo @wakashudou @tojirin @makki0s @alexithemiyatic @aboutkiyoomi @hermaeusmorax @theepitomeofswag @qyoongi @esunarint @frootloopscos @kimigiri09 @sweetlyvibe @hhoneyhan

[tavolgisvist]

'So there's a story...'

I'll buy you a diamond ring, my friend If it makes you feel alright I'll get you anything, my friend If it makes you feel alright 'Cause I don't care too much for money Money can't buy me love <…> I'll give you all I've got to give If you say you love me, too I may not have a lot to give But what I got, I'll give to you <…> Say you don't need no diamond rings And I'll be satisfied Tell me that you want the kind of things That money just can't buy I don't care too much for money Money can't buy me love

(Can't Buy Me Love, Jan/March 1964, A Hard Day’s Night)

… Baby says she's mine, you know She tells me all the time, you know She said so I'm in love with her and I feel fine I'm so glad that she's my little girl She's so glad, she's telling all the world That her baby buys her things, you know He buys her diamond rings, you know She said so She's in love with me and I feel fine

(I Feel Fine, Oct 1964, single I Feel Fine/She's A Woman)

Asked a girl what she wanted to be She said, "Baby, can't you see? I wanna be famous, a star of the screen But you can do something in between" <…> I told that girl that my prospects were good And she said, "Baby, it's understood Working for peanuts is all very fine But I can show you a better time" "Baby, you can drive my car Yes, I'm gonna be a star Baby, you can drive my car And maybe I'll love you" Beep-beep'm-beep-beep, yeah …

(Drive My Car, Oct 1965, Rubber Soul)

I started working at a coil-winding factory called Massey and Coggins. My dad had told me to go out and get a job. I’d said, ‘I’ve got a job, I’m in a band.’ But after a couple of weeks of doing nothing with the band it was, ‘No, you have got to get a proper job.’ He virtually chucked me out of the house: ‘Get a job or don’t come back.’ So I went to the employment office and said, ‘Can I have a job? Just give me anything.’ I said, ‘I’ll have whatever is on the top of that little pile there.’ And the first job was sweeping the yard at Massey and Coggins. I took it. I went there and the personnel officer said, ‘We can’t have you sweeping the yard, you’re management material.’ And they started to train me from the shop floor up with that in mind. <…> One day John and George showed up in the yard that I should have been sweeping and told me we had a gig at the Cavern. I said, ‘No. I’ve got a steady job here and it pays £7 14s a week. They are training me here. That’s pretty good, I can’t expect more. And I was quite serious about this.

(Paul McCartney, The Beatles Anthology)

But Paul would always give in to his dad. His dad told him to get a job, he dropped the group and started working on the fucking lorries, saying, 'I need a steady career.' We couldn't believe it. Once he rang up and said he'd got this job and couldn't come to the group. So I told him on the phone, 'Either come or you're out.' So he had to make a decision between me and his dad then, and in the end he chose me.

(John Lennon, Yoko Ono, St. Regis Hotel, New York, September 5th, 1971, interview with Peter McCabe and Robert Schonfeld)

I’d brought a version of it [‘Golden Rings’] out to John’s house in Weybridge, and we stalled when we got to the lines ‘You can buy me golden rings / Get me all that kind of thing’. We kept singing that over and over and couldn’t get beyond it because it was so shockingly bad. Part of the problem was that we’d already had ‘a diamond ring’ in ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’. ‘Golden rings’ was unoriginal and uninspiring. We couldn’t get past it. So we left it, went and had a cup of tea. When we came back, we started thinking of the woman as an LA girl. That improved things a bit. Then she wanted a chauffeur. <…> Once you get into creating a narrative and storytelling, it’s so much more entertaining. It draws you forward so much more easily. Now we were dramatising the interviewing of a chauffeur; we got over that dry moment and finished the song. It became one that didn’t get away. And its success had to do with getting rid of ‘golden rings’ and heading to ‘Baby, you can drive my car’. I know there’s a theory that rock and roll couldn’t have existed without the guitars of Leo Fender, but it probably couldn’t have existed without Henry Ford either. I’m thinking of the relationship between the motorcar and what happens in the back seat. We know that people shagged before the motorcar, but the motorcar gave the erotic a whole new lease on life. Think of Chuck Berry ‘riding along in my automobile’. Chuck is one of America’s great poets. ‘Beep beep, beep beep, yeah’. There you go. It was always good to get nonsense lyrics in, and this song lent itself to ‘Beep beep, beep beep, yeah’…

(Paul McCartney, The Lyrics, about 'Drive My Car')

*Paul means Berry's No Particular Place to Go:

Ridin' along in my automobile My baby beside me at the wheel I stole a kiss at the turn of a mile My curiosity runnin' wild Cruisin' and playin' the radio With no particular place to go

etc

for @m1ssunderstanding because

[astranauticus]

Link Click single "Prometheus" Fan Translation

translation under cut!

让黑夜吞噬最后一点光

Let night swallow the last bit of light

就当是一场梦

Pretend this is all a dream

如果无法挣脱索性就让一切都失控吧

If I can't escape, then let everything go out of control

尝尝我的痛

If you have a taste of my pain

或许才会明白哭到失声根本没有用吧

Maybe you'll understand that there is no point to crying

倒数着三二一零

Count down, three two one zero

卖弄可笑的六欲七情

You're still playing up your laughable emotions and desires

这世界已经天翻地覆

This world has already been turned upside down

不如和我一起跳到深渊感受这失重吧 Why don't you jump into the abyss to feel this weightlessness with me

叫他们的幻想蒸发

Let their dreams evaporate

像是面无表情撕碎玩具那般从容

As simple as coldly tearing apart a stuffed toy

谁叫他们学不会听话

It's their fault they keep falling into my hands again and again

还是一次又一次地落入我的手中

Because they can't learn to stay in line

早听腻了烦人的叽叽喳喳

I've long grown tired of this annoying chattering

用绝望在墙上染个碎花

Use despair to paint a splatter on the wall

请他们永远永远闭上嘴吧

Invite them to never, never speak again

[(LTX:) piano solo]

隐秘的血色的黑夜童话

The hidden, blood-soaked midnight fairytale

刹那间将所有光芒抹杀

Smothers all light in an instant

偷走那神的火把

Steal the torch of the gods

坠落下万丈悬崖

Fall down the bottomless abyss

没有归处的人等待世界崩塌

The ones with no home await the world's collapse

（最后的 狂欢吧

(The final carnival

最后的 狂欢吧）

The final carnival)

偷走那神的火把

Steal the torch of the gods

坠落下万丈悬崖

Fall down the bottomless abyss

没有归处的人啊

The ones with no home

静静沉睡吧

Sleep peacefully now

暂时藏起了利爪和鳞片

I'll conceal my claws and scales for now

魔鬼躲进她黑白的琴键

The demon hides in her black and white keys

收起你那套因果循环

Keep your talk of causality and repetition to yourself

我会遭报应吗？反正还没应验

Will I receive retribution? We don't know that yet

都是我的消耗品

(LX:) They're all expendables to me

被我牵着鼻子走还抓不着要领

I'm dragging you along by the nose and you still can't figure it out

一个 两个 三个 四个

(LX:) one, two, three, four

心跳加速只是我的白噪音

The sound of a racing heart is just white noise to me

撬开一层层的保险

Prying away the layers of safeguards

像茶余饭后的消遣

Just to pass the time after a fine meal

对黑夜缺了点敬畏

You people who get hurt needlessly

白白受伤的人

Because you lack respect for the night

看着我千万别眨眼

When you look at me, never blink

下一秒骇人的画面

Lest you miss the scenes of carnage

命运她由我来加减

I am the one who will alter fate herself

我是那灭灯的神

I am the god that extinguishes the light

隐秘的血色的黑夜童话

The hidden, blood-soaked midnight fairytale

刹那间将所有光芒抹杀

Smothers all light in an instant

偷走那神的火把

Steal the torch of the gods

坠落下万丈悬崖

Fall down the bottomless abyss

没有归处的人等待世界崩塌

The ones with no home await the world's collapse

没有归处的人啊

The ones with no home

静静沉睡吧

Sleep peacefully now

(bonus: my translation of 321!)

[eissaphir]

I thought of this with a carnival in mind but feel free to interpret this any way you want. Looking at you, Radioapple shippers

[vogelmeister]

anyways in 2019/2020 i went on a rampage on eurovision youtube regarding lena and maNga (nothing too wild, i was 18, but mainly just calling them out on being plain delusional and then getting called racist in return) and i still get salty maNga stans replying years later and its honestly so pathetic the more time goes by. grow up. get a hobby. who the fuck cares. you found my four year old comment and you decided to argue back.

[bbeelzemon]

okay first of all was anyone going to tell me that ac/dc is an australian band. and second of all was anyone else going to tell me that they're apparently colloquially referred to as "acca dacca" in australia

[crossbackpoke-check]

18 + swaymark!!

oooo thank you!!

#18 - pleaser, wallows + swaymark

okay i know they are canonically obsessed with each other but. the song is in some ways about feeling like you’re failing in your relationship and being not quite as obsessed with them as they maybe are with you, and in this video of them talking about being a tandem, there is the slightest pause before swayman answers “do you miss him?” that makes me want to probe a wound. we’re not talking irl reasons of how that’s an absurd question (how do you miss him. you’re coworkers you’re seeing each other all the time) we’re talking that maybe this whole goalies-in-love thing got blown out of proportion and now swayman’s having to buy into the bit too hard. linus loves it & everyone’s asking about their bromance & how they love each other so much and the thing is—linus is safe. he’s got a wife and plausible deniability and jeremy? jeremy is gay. sure, he can crack jokes and people-please but the more people ask the more they're going to find out until maybe they find out something jeremy doesn't want them to know. and the longer this goes on, the more jeremy has to sit at linus' dinner table with linus and his beautiful wife and pretend like he isn't a little bit in love with him. and you know what? the longer it goes on and linus doesn't dial it down jeremy does stop being in love with him, because it just feels cruel, until he finally is done enough that he stops biting his tongue and ruins the moment.

[trashworldblog]

it's absolutely insane that the song that has the most quotes that i want to get tattooed is sandwiched between a song about skinning ryan bergara alive and a song that alludes to playing a brass instrument is like giving a blowjob

[kickbutts-singsongs]

I just got home from my little sister’s dance recital and omg it’s always such a treat to watch! But not for the reason you’d think.

Okay so my sister’s good and all, and I love supporting her and seeing her grow as a dancer, but she’s not the best part about going to these shows. Do you know what is??

The toddlers.

The small, adorable toddlers in tutus who step out onto the dark stage, with an older hand guiding them to their places. The little ones that don’t have a single thought behind their eyes once the stage light turns on. The tiny children who look to each other for guidance when the music starts cuz they have absolutely no fucking clue what dance moves they’re supposed to be doing. Their dance teacher inevitably trying to help them along from the wings, and them attempting to copy the demonstration of the choreography they’ve been working on for ten entire weeks. The toothy little smiles those kiddos get when the music ends and the audience claps and cheers. And when the stage goes dark once more, the little shuffling and pitter-patter of those tots getting coaxed back into the wings.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW ADORABLE IT IS

WHEN THEYRE JUMPING AND TWIRLING AND RAISING THEIR HANDS UP AND KICKING THEIR FEET AND SKIPPING AROUND AND

AND SOMETIMES THEYRE NOT

SOMETIMES THERELL BE A KID WHO JUST STANDS THERE THE ENTIRE TIME LIKE ‘NAH I AINT DOIN THIS SHIT’ AND ITS

ITS SO FUCKING FUNNY

The serotonin boost I get each time I go to one of these shows

Like oh my god look at these little guys in their sparkles and their tap shoes and their hilarious efforts at remembering the correct dance moves to do

5 stars. Didn’t remember a single correct move. 10/10 would watch a hundred times over.

[hella1975]

SNORK FUCKING MIMIMI

[bandsanitizer]

.

[seventh-district]

in other news i cannot stop fucking listening to Brokenheartsville by Joe Nichols and i’m starting to annoy myself with it but. i cannot stop. it’s too good