#jonny dollar

[7s3ven]

Hear me out guys… retired soldiers now bodyguards! task force 141 x spoiled heiress! reader

( just an idea )

You’re like, a nutcase. Your father adores you but sometimes you can go out of control. Like for instance, the time you jumped off a cliff into the ocean below to impress a boy.

Yeah, your father wasn’t very impressed with your behaviour.

On top of your recklessness, your father has enemies who always seem to target you. You’re his obvious weakness and he can’t spend another moment of anxiously wondering if you’re okay while he’s working.

So, he hires the best bodyguards he can find. And they turn out to be retired soldiers from an elite unit known as Task Force 141. Perfect.

You don’t take kindly to being continuously followed by four large men who don’t even try to be subtle. It’s not like taking care of you is easy either. You’re a troublemaker, you always have been since your mother left you for another family (your reckless tendencies tend to stem from the fact that you’re causing trouble to get her to notice you again).

Task Force 141 has had enough when you attempt to sneak out of the house to a party on a Friday night. But it seems apart from shopping and acting like a brat, you aren’t good at anything else.

They hear a crash and someone swearing loudly before you roll off the roof, landing in the bushes right outside the window where the four men have a perfect view of you. They were watching a football came until you interrupted.

Jonny bursts into laughter, slapping Gaz out of amusement, while Price fetches you and forces you back inside.

“You know, your house has a back door for a reason.” Simon utters as he cleans your scratches but there’s a mocking indication to his tone.

“Yeah but like, going out the window felt more cool.” You argue back, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Was it cool when you face planted into the ground?”

You can only pout in annoyance.

From then on, they don’t leave you alone, especially not on Friday nights. You have to deal with being squished between Price and Simon as they watch a boring documentary on… fish? Jonny definitely chose that one.

But hey, you aren’t exactly complaining. Being stuck between the two men means being able to feel their muscles and smell their strong cologne. You tolerate the four men more after they cleaned your scratches from landing in a bush and carried you to your bed.

And so what if you catch feelings? Anybody else in your position would have done the same.

“We can’t date ya, lovie. We’re too old and we work for your dad.”

Do you care? Not really.

“My dad literally hired you because I was a troublemaker. Ya think I give a shit? ‘Sides, the older the better.”

Jonny jabs a thumb in Price’s direction, “Even the captain? You should’ve seen ‘im in his prime. Way better looking.” He hands you a picture that he just happens to have of Price.

You glance at it then lift your head to look at Price. Your lips curve into a teasing smile. “Yeah, you’re right. What happened, Captain?” You joke.

INCORRECT QUOTES FOR THE LAUGHS:

Kidnapper, negotiating with TF 141: We have the annoying heiress. Give us ten thousand dollars and they will be returned to you unharmed

Y/N: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars. MAKE IT ONE MILLION–

Price: Y/N, STOP

Simon: Can I be frank with you guys?

Jonny: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Gaz: Can I still be Gaz?

Y/N: Shh, let Frank speak.

Gaz: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Simon: *turning to Y/N* How tall are you?

Price: Where's Simon, Gaz, and Y/N?

Jonny: They're playing hide and seek.

Price: Where?

Jonny: I don't think you get how this game works.

Y/N: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Simon: Several traffic violations.

Gaz: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Jonny: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Price: Also, that’s not our car.

[connorsnothereeither]

Maybe this is just me but I feel like as a collective we haven’t fully registered the sheer Marty McFly urban legend conspiracy fuel bullshittery that happened in the first 72 hours of the Cantripped campaign. Specifically regarding Rowan-

Imagine you’re attending fucking Woodstock. Then, suddenly, The Beatles go to take the stage. But hold on- Paul McCartney isn’t there? It’s just some redhead no one has ever seen before on guitar?? But oh well bands have people get sick and have musicians fill in, it happens all the time.

Suddenly this absolute nobody woman single handedly plays THE MOST TRANSCENDENT AND TRANSFORMATIVE MUSICAL PERFORMANCE IN ALL OF HISTORY. Like, never before seen musical talent, absolutely reshapes the crowds understanding of art and music, broadcast to millions of onlookers. Then, just like any other performance, the band leaves the stage (in later interviews, John Lennon reveals that the woman was a busker that almost got into a fist fight with Ringo in the parking lot 20 minutes before the performance).

15 minutes later, live on stage, the fucking Kennedy Assassination happens. The crowd scatters.

That night, in the aftermath, a bartender in the wealthy part of town says that after handing him a gun across the counter and asking him to take it to a well respected local mom&pop bakery, Jonny Cash was beaten up and arrested in the back room of the bar before being dragged out unconscious by a half dozen uniformed cops.

About a day later, the same bartender takes delivers the gun to the bakery, and inside finds not just the elderly owner, but a well dressed British man in a too small kiss the cook apron, the mysterious woman who performed on stage at Woodstock, and Robert F. Kennedy in a hood and bandana. The next day, the trio along with a very wounded Jonny Cash arrive at his bar yet again, pay him 1000 dollars cash, and leave. Jonny Cash and the unnamed woman then cause a public disturbance at the Canadian border checkpoint on their way through, before Jonny Cash simply sprints through security, and is never seen again.

[newtonsheffield]

MOLLY ❣️

You write nothing good starts and Simone is in the F1 Movie

You write Post Traumatic (Jurassic Park AU) which I am just reading for the first time now, SO GOOD, SO DEEPLY LOVING AND MOVING by the way and now Jonny is in Jurassic Park.

HAVE WE DISCUSSED THIS AS A PEOPLE? Because this is AMAZING and MAGICAL

And its like what do you want to see them in next?

Write it and wait for the casting announcement! 🥰💞🤩😆🤣💪🏼💥💞❤️

I also wrote a little mermaid AU before Simone was in that as well. If ai had a dollar every time I wrote an AU and Simone or Jonny were then cast on a similar project I would have $3. Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird it’s happened three times 😂😂😂

Am I just part of the team at this point?

I would love to see them in something a bit lighthearted. I know Simone has that Amazon RomCom coming out so I’m excited for that.

[candlecoo-sideb-art]

[slides you a crumbled one dollar bill] if you have any spare jonny d’ville’s for my sister i would really appreciate it 🥺your mechs are very beautiful

here's a lil Jonny for your sister

And thank you!!!

[jovialtorchlight]

mutual aid request

I went to the ER Wednesday night because I had a fever and was struggling to breath. First time in a emergency room (well, I guess if you don't count psych emergency rooms). Happy to be breathing again but also dreading the bill. let's play a game. I had an ekg, cat scan to rule out blood clotting, and X-rays. I met think my grand total is going to be...9,754 dollars.

so i'm feeling betterish, but still sick, but not like scary sick like wednesday night, just at home recovering. i'll take the er bills when they come like a badge of honor and just pay like 20 bucks a month until the end of my life. not worth stressing about.

i hate going back to this, but i can't really go out because contagion and fever and i've been doordashing medicine and food and that is expensive. so if you've ever wanted to read pretty much everything i've ever written and downloaded for free and also wanted to pay what you can for said downloads i would be very grateful and it would go to me getting theraflu and gingerale on doordash lol.

here are some links.

my paypal is jabolduc125@gmail.com, or @JonathanBolduc921

my cashapp is $jonnybolduc125

my venmo is @Jonny-Bolduc

PDFS:

[the-suns-a-tube]

in approximately 4-6 weeks i will be the proud owner of a horrible 3d model jonny headshot

They needed side views and the mechs just so happened to provide us with perfect mugshots

yes i spent 50 dollars on this. if only the mechs still sold official merchandise. then i wouldn't have to do this. Alas.

[mediums-georg]

for @podcastgirlsweek I have decided to draw Alice and Gwen. Jonny and Alex please don't kill them, I need 200 more episodes of them bickering

based on the fanfic "Woke up with a strange tattoo. Not sure how I got it, not a dollar in my pocket" by crowsandghosts.

[owmylasagna-blog]

Method to my Ed-ness

Clearing his throat, Eddy jabbed the sharp corner of the plastic dollar store case into the breast bone of Double Dee’s sunken sternum.

“What is -”

“What’s it look like?”

Edd examined the familiar receptacle, flipping the flimsy item in his hands. Through the clear cover he could see the Sharpie scrawl of his friend’s handwriting directly on the mirrored surface of the compact disc: “Eddy’s Summer Jams” in all capital letters at the top, the songs numbered and written in concentric circles filled the remaining space.

Meanwhile, try as he might to maintain a cool, casual demeanor, Eddy disguised his nerves by shoving his hands deep into his oversized pockets. His gaze locked onto the Peach Creek High ceiling with the same apathy as reruns of Gilligan’s Island but his heart was thumping at a frenetic pace. That concentration was broken, however, by a snivel.

“Oh Eddy…”

Double Dee’s lower lip quivered. The CD case creaked as his grip tightened.

“Jeez. Don’t -”

The shorter teen winced, second-hand embarrassment creeping up his spine. Not that Edd’s sudden emotional outbursts were a new thing, just that Eddy never quite figured out the right way to respond.

“Why I- Should I have known we we were exchanging gifts I’d have -”

Eddy threw an arm over Edd’s shoulders. His amused chuckle reverberated through the physical contact in a way that only Eddy could ground Edd.

“Gifts? Cool your jets. It’s just a playlist.”

True, the item itself was quite simple. But Double Dee could discern the generous and meticulous care put into it. Coming from Eddy, it meant a whole lot. Composing himself, the more outwardly sentimental of the two clutched the case tight over his heart with a smile.

“Regardless, I’ll cherish the thoughtful curation you’ve no doubtably given it.”

The teens’ eyes met. Eddy smiled too because, yeah, maybe he had spent a few extra hours scouring various studio recordings, remasters, and live album renditions for several of the songs. And maybe, just maybe, this was the second CD he’d burned because he’d rushed the first one, leaving sloppy smudges in the Sharpie before it had completely dried. This was worth getting right.

“Don’t sweat it, Jonny. That rash will clear up in no time. Over and out!” A distinctly recognizable voice echoed down the hall.

The gangly teen waved, turned, and sluggishly made his way down the hallway in their direction. Wide pant legs swished and vestigial suspenders jingled with each step.

“Boy am I glad to see you guys. Jonny was just showing me -” Ed paused, his heavy-lidded eyes landing on Double Dee’s occupied hands. He blinked, then frowned, the muscles in his face firing in slow motion. It was clear from both his countenance and stench that he’d just come from toking up the janitor's closet.

“Secret Santa already?”

Eddy detached from the half embrace. “It’s June,” he huffed before slamming his back into the lockers.

“Likely story,” Ed chuckled. “Then whatcha got there?”

It was an odd, new feeling - getting bashful with Ed - nascent much like the more emotional and intimate turn two-thirds of their trio had taken in the past year. Never-the-less the two slightly-more-than-friends felt their cheeks blaze at the question. Eddy glanced up at Edd who stared down at the burned CD, watching bony fingers moving timidly over his work. His heart skipped as the reality hit that Double Dee was actually going to listen to the thing.

Edd swallowed and offered a sheepish grin. “A melodic memento from Eddy, is all.”

“It’s nothin’,” Eddy downplayed with a shrug.

“Do I get one too?” asked Ed. If Eddy didn’t know better it sure sounded like Ed was teasing him.

He scoffed. “What are ya- No. I’m stuck with ya all summer, remember?”

A wave of solemnity washed over Ed’s entire demeanor at the reminder of Double Dee’s upcoming departure and now his utter lack of Eddy-crafted playlist to fill the void.

“One is a number divided by two.”

“Sure is, Nilsson,” sighed Eddy, crossing his arms. He lifted a knee, planting a foot against the painted metal. A steely clang followed as the chunky hardware store wallet chain slid off the thigh of his jean shorts.

In the minor lul, a pang of guilt hit Edd. Had he really had an option in the matter? Vision unfocused, he raked his raw thumb nail over the ribbed side of the CD case. Meanwhile, Ed had fully engaged his favorite weapons: a pair of big brown bovine puppy-dog eyes.

“No CD for Ed?”

“Go screw!” Eddy’s voice cracked from pitching it up.

A pathetic pout contorted the sallow face of Eddy’s eldest friend. Beside him, Double Dee rolled his eyes - holding back a knowing chuckle behind a wavering grin. The teen in the beany tisked, a brow seemingly raising beneath the knit fabric that obscured them.

“A suspicious amount of protest for what you’ve insisted is merely a frivolous, inconsequential collection of songs. Surely it would be no trouble at all to orchestrate such a banal arrangement again. Isn’t that so, Eddy?”

Between the guilt tripping and the chiding, Eddy was just about fed up. He locked stubborn stares with Double Dee, not broken even by Ed practically perching himself on Edd’s shoulders and knodding with enthusiastic agreement.

“You little…” with a snarl, the fleshy back of Eddy’s head thunked against the metal lockers with a solid thud. “Whatever. Someone’s gotta make sure you two have good taste.”

Through his reflection, Edd watched as a blur of verdant roadside overgrowth passed. It had been a quiet ride so far with the exception of a riveting public radio segment about elderly drivers playing at a polite volume. It would be another hour before they reached the destination of the month-long pre-college STEM program for high schoolers he would be starting tomorrow.

An unfortunate ramification of stubborn motion sickness was the inability to busy himself reading. When Edd was younger, mother and father would engage him in word games and educational songs to distract him from the nausea. It seemed everyone in the car had aged out of this sort of activity. Silence wasn’t anything new.

For this reason, Edd had amassed a fairly robust CD collection of audiobooks and a spattering of instrumental albums. Leafing through the case, rapidly passing through the compendium of discs for several works of classical fiction and nonfiction alike, Edd sought out his most recent addition.

Eddy’s Summer Jams.

A cursory scan of the song titles only made apparent Edd’s pop culture illiteracy. Could artists with such names as Beenie Man prove promising? There was only one way to find out. Slipping the foam earpieces into place, the head strap clicked in succession until the fit was just right.

Click. The inner workings lifted the CD player lid open. Snap. In went Eddy’s playlist. As it spun, the handwritten script blurred through the viewport on top.

For all the time Edd knew his friend, and all the times spent listening to vintage records in his bachelor’s den of a bedroom, he could anticipate what the opening song might sound like. Bombastic brass? Thrumming bass? Uptempo disco rhythms?

However, what Double Dee heard instead was something more gentle. Unrushed steady drums accompanied by staccato, dare-say timid, bass strumming in time. Then, an enchanting voice joined. If this was all an unexpected choice, it was the lyrics that soon had Eddward frozen in disbelief in the back seat of father’s compact sedan. Edd had always known music was an outlet of self expression for Eddy, but he was still left giddily unprepared for this. In an instant, the flustered teen yanked his shirt collar up to obscure the violent blush and massive smile that had taken over his face.

[mr2swap]

The Great Shift:Another man and in your own body

Few can understand how I feel now, it's very fucked up to have to see how your son marries another man and in your own body.

-And now you can kiss - said the priest and without wasting a second I saw my old face being kissed by another man while everyone watched and celebrated

When all this "Great Shift" happened, I was working in my home office and in a blink of an eye I was now in a classroom surrounded by a bunch of outrageous screaming children, some of whom were in unknown bodies but in my case, I was in the body of my son Johnny.

the cell phones stopped working for a couple of hours and everything was total chaos. It was tough to be able to get home with these short legs and with such a weak body at only 10 years old. In my pocket, I only had 5 dollars and a handful of candy.

It was all huge, I never thought it would feel like this to be a kid again with my bright adult mind, all the adults looked so tall and strong that I couldn't help but shed a couple of tears while using Johnny's little feet, but after a couple of hours walking you can get to my house, I was tired, I was sweaty and confused, however, none of that compared to the surprise I found in my house. somehow Johnny's best friend ended up in the body of our neighbor Mr. Jones?

I was worried about what would happen to Johnny in my body not knowing that he and his best friend were getting acquainted with his new adult bodies, the problem being that they were doing it naked. when I entered the house I found my son using my body to kiss and caress Robert's body -Young man what the hell are you doing with my body?- Jonny and Mr. Jones stopped kissing and masturbating to throw a small smile.

-oh! wow! Dad are you? Is it really you inside my body? am I really that small? Don't worry this is my friend Colt, isn't it cool that he will end up in Mr. Jones's body?, by the way, didn't you meet Mrs. Jones on the way here? she went to look for her husband at school-

All the concern I had about my son's safety was in vain, he seemed to have been having a good time in my body, when I entered my house I found a mess, there were empty beer cans in the kitchen, cigarette ash in the room and of course the naked and sweaty body of Mr. Johnson.

In the end… I never got my body back, I had to get used to this body and my new height, it was very difficult having to see how my son took over all my responsibilities, my friends, and my job but it was worse when I found his friend Colt moving to our house. but what could he do now? It wasn't like I could stop my son now, he was so much stronger, taller and he was the one paying the bills in the house.

I just hope that I can sleep tonight and that my son is not so loud on his wedding night and that they are wearing condoms.

Hey! You can support me to continue creating stories, see similar stories on my patreon, you can also join my discord if you are interested in role-playing about bodyswap, possession and transformation, m2m!

[mechs-incorrect-quotes]

Marius: What's the most illegal thing you can do with one dollar?  Jonny: Exchange it for a hundred pennies, put them all in a sock, and then beat someone to death with it.

[canon-autopsy]

I listened to the entirety of the magnus archives in a pretty short period of time, became obsessed, and now I've just restarted from the beginning bc I miss listening to it and holy shiiit jonny is a GENIUS FUCKING WRITER. like I knew this the first time around but now going back and listening to it while knowing everything is WILD what a fantastic fucking world he's created right from the start, and doing it all while the show was at its start when working with so little??? and serialized, being written as they went with only the broad layout of all 5 seasons laid out?? even being able to have 5 distinct arcs of story all planned out like that!! and back when they just had 3 dollars and a dream!! what an amazing fucking series

[jonnylovers-in-neverland]

Coldplay’s Self-Help Pop

Chris Martin, the band’s front man, discusses reading Rumi, making music like an apple tree grows apples, and the band’s new album, “Moon Music.”

An interview by Amanda Petrusich (September 30, 2024)

On a recent afternoon in Malibu, Chris Martin, the front man of Coldplay, was enjoying a brief pause between tour dates. “We have breaks, but only in the way that Serena Williams has a banana between sets,” he said, pulling his bare feet up under him. Martin, who is forty-seven, was wearing an emerald-green sweater featuring a picture of the earth, affixed with a tiny white button that said “LOVE.” Later on, when he took the sweater off, he revealed a blue T-shirt with the same button. I wondered, but did not ask, how many of them he owned. It felt indicative of Martin’s quintessence at this particular moment: LOVE, layered ad infinitum.

Martin was in the midst of converting an old property into a studio and the de-facto Coldplay HQ. The complex was beset by scrubby clay slopes dotted with sagebrush, California aster, evergreen oaks. Martin likes to send visitors home with unlabelled jars of fresh honey from an apiary nearby. We sat at a picnic table overlooking a meadow. In conversation, Martin is engaging, magnetic. When I apologized for putting my sunglasses on—the light had suddenly shifted—he grinned: “No, I love it. It sort of flips the script. We’ll talk about your album in a minute.” We’d been discussing the gurgling anxiety inherent to any romantic entanglement—the fear of starting to need someone. It’s an idea that arises in “feelslikeimfallinginlove,” the swooning first single from “Moon Music,” the band’s tenth record, which comes out in October. “I know that this could feel like that / But I just can’t stop / Let my defenses drop,” Martin sings in the opening verse.

“There are two methods that humans use to survive,” Martin said. “One is calcification and sequestering and separating: my stuff, my tribe, my this, my that. And then the other half is so open to everything. Those people fall in love a lot more, but they also have a lot more heartbreak.” I guessed that he was in the latter camp. “I’m so open it’s ridiculous,” he said. “But, if you’re not afraid of rejection, it’s the most liberating thing in the world.” Well, sure—but who’s not afraid of rejection? “Of course,” Martin said, laughing. “To tell someone you love them, or to release an album, or to write a book, or to make a cake, or to cook your wife a meal—it’s terrifying. But if I tell this person I love them and they don’t love me back, I still gave them the gift of knowing someone loves them.” Martin noticed a slightly stricken look on my face. “I’m giving this advice to myself, too,” he added. “Don’t think I’ve got it mastered.”

Coldplay, which formed in 1997, in London, has sold more than a hundred million records. (Besides Martin, the band includes the guitarist Jonny Buckland, the bassist Guy Berryman, and the drummer Will Champion.) The ongoing tour for “Music of the Spheres,” the band’s prior release, has sold ten million tickets and made close to a billion dollars, becoming the highest-grossing rock tour of the past forty years. It has broken attendance records in countries including Romania, Singapore, Brazil, Colombia, the Netherlands, Chile, Portugal, Sweden, France, Indonesia, Italy, and Greece. (When I brought this up, Martin was quick to note how colonialism has enabled his success: “We’re only able to play in so many countries because people who spoke English did such terrible things all around the world.”)

“Moon Music” was produced by Max Martin, the Swedish hitmaker behind twenty-seven No. 1 singles. Martin described Max Martin’s technique as “a mix of mathematics and fluidity, of real structure and being totally open,�� adding, with a kind of proud certainty, “He’s our producer now.” Martin also confirmed that Coldplay will make two more albums and then stop recording, though the band will continue to tour. “Yesterday, I went to see the L.A. Philharmonic. All those songs were released two hundred years ago,” he said. “It still felt extremely vibrant. So perhaps there’s a point where new material is not essential to make an amazing show.”

Martin, like many successful songwriters, explains the work as a kind of divine channelling: a song appears and he receives it. “If you’re lucky enough to have the space to let the music talk to you, and through you, then you can relax a bit,” he told me. “I’m just sort of doing what I’m told, the way an apple tree grows apples.” He said that establishing the Coldplay catalogue as finite has been liberating for the band: “By knowing there’s an end point, nobody is phoning it in. We only have two more chances. And most of the songs already exist, in a skeletal form.” I asked if that last day in the studio might be sad for him—a final take, the feeling of knowing that something is over. I find ending things so excruciating, I told him, I’d often rather just go down with the ship. He gave me a sympathetic look. “I think it will feel amazing,” he said.

At some point, Coldplay became—how else do I say it?—motivational. In recent years, it has felt less like a band than like an engine of unrelenting positivity, a high-grade confetti cannon straight to the face. The shift started around 2014, with the release of “Ghost Stories,” which contained little rancor or moodiness, fewer nods to Echo and the Bunnymen, less audible guitar. Coldplay, once skewered by critics for being too plaintive and self-pitying, was now broadcasting the opposite message: everything is magic. It reminded me, in some circuitous way, of “Attitude,” the punk band Bad Brains’ one-minute opus from 1982, in which the vocalist H.R. barks, “Hey, we got that P.M.A.!”—a reference to “positive mental attitude,” a phrase coined in 1937 by the author and probable con man Napoleon Hill. He was peddling a notion that we today refer to as manifestation: “Anything the human mind can believe, the human mind can achieve.” But Bad Brains still had fury, bite, edge. For whatever reason, Coldplay had willfully neutralized itself.

In Malibu, when I needled Martin about that change—what happened, exactly, to the yearning and discord of “Parachutes” or “A Rush of Blood to the Head,” the band’s first two releases?—he attributed it both to a burgeoning interest in Rumi, the thirteenth-century Sufi mystic, and to his experience working with the visionary electronic musician Brian Eno, who produced “Viva la Vida or Death and All His Friends,” Coldplay’s fourth album. Martin said that Eno’s purity and sense of wonder had helped him “completely abandon the concept of trying to be cool. He came in with the enthusiasm of a nine-year-old for everything.” Mostly, though, Martin sees the change as incremental, organic. “It’s not like it was black-and-white, and then became color,” he said. “The first song on the first album is called ‘Don’t Panic.’ There’s also a song called ‘Everything’s Not Lost,’ which is exactly the same message that we’re singing now. Just sung by a slightly less experienced, more insecure, younger person.”

Though he likely wouldn’t frame it this way, Martin appears motivated by a kind of vocational mandate. He occupies a rarefied position, insofar as it’s actually possible for him to make the world a little less fractured, for a couple of hours, seventy-five thousand people at a time. This requires obliterating his ego, and accepting that a lot of people will find what he’s doing—bouncing around a stage covered with rainbows, singing lines such as “In the end it’s just love,” as he does on “One World,” which closes “Moon Music”—unbearably corny. In a way, the messaging has to be flat to translate so widely. On “Clocks,” a lush and tumbling track from “A Rush of Blood to the Head,” Martin sings about grappling with his own fallibility and bafflement, of trying his best to be of service in the world: “Am I part of the cure, or am I part of the disease?” His voice swoons, flutters, dissipates. “You are,” he answers. It’s a strange lyric, but I’ve always appreciated its strangeness: cure, disease, good, bad, hurtful, benevolent. You are.

These days, Martin describes the band’s message as “No one is more or less special than anyone else.” He went on, “The reason I’m able to say that is because we’re one of the few groups of people who get to actually see it. We travel everywhere. What Ryszard Kapuściński would call ‘the Other’ is not real.” I asked him what it felt like to stand onstage in, say, Kuala Lumpur, or Helsinki, or Tokyo, and hear the crowd bellowing his lyrics back to him, to one another, to themselves, to the air. “It feels like the answer,” he said. “It feels like: This is where humans actually work. It has nothing to do with us as a band. There are points where, hopefully, nothing exists except ‘We’re all just singing this together.’ ”

Ultimately, Martin hopes that by providing solace, and a place to unify, Coldplay can actualize some change in the world. I thought this sounded idealistic, even quixotic, until I considered all the ways in which I had been made better by songs. “If you’re able to live as yourself and understand who you are, whatever that might mean in terms of your gender or sexuality or what you like to eat or where you like to live or whether you like table tennis or riding donkeys . . . if you’re allowed to be yourself, would the world be as aggressive as it is?” Martin asked. “My feeling is no, I don’t think it would. I think much of the violence and conflict comes from repression, suppression, unreleased damage.”

Eventually, the air started to cool. Martin brought me a sweatshirt. Our conversation wound toward more existential matters: people we’d lost, what it meant, what it didn’t mean. “Death is in our songs a lot,” Martin said. “Maybe as a way of encouraging living. And also faith—the idea that, well, it’s O.K. It’s all O.K., isn’t it? I’m sure that’s crossed your mind.” The sun was beginning to ease into the Pacific. We sat for a moment in the hazy yellow pre-dusk. The air was parched, salty, soft. “Everything is perfect, of course,” Martin said. “Everything’s as it’s supposed to be.”

[bespectacledbookworm]

Soft launching my Patreon for my lil business JonnyBlackTypes! If you'd like to support a literary artiste, consider becoming one of my patrons for 10 dollars a month!

YOU WILL RECEIVE:

• 1 hand-typed original poem composed by me, Jonny Black, sent to your mailbox every month.

•Access to my close friends list on instagram, where I'll post what inspires me, day-to-day life of a poet, poem breakdowns (from first draft to finished product and how I got there), my crazy dreams, more intimate behind-the-scenes look at what poetry busking is like!

• my everlasting gratitude :)

PS: first ten patrons to sign up will receive an additional poem on any subject they want!

[jovialtorchlight]

hello everyone. so my latest book, Dead Brother, Will You Walk Through the Fire is available on Amazon. I've decided to also release a pay what you can PDF option like I have with the rest of my works. My only ask is that you spread this if you like it, and please send some support if you can, even if it's a few dollars.

This is the link: https://www.scribd.com/.../Dead-Brother-Will-You-Walk...

my paypal is jabolduc125@gmail.com, or @JonathanBolduc921

my cashapp is $jonnybolduc125

my venmo is Jonny Bolduc

[starwhipnspin]

ok this is too funny not to share so today i present to you:

Things my sister called the ninja (& co.) the few times she saw them (a fairly unhinged list)

first up we got jay with:

vesuvio (yes that is the name of a volcano)

"he looks like allan from the barbie movie"

burger (about the redesign, she said it was the freckles💀)

"those freckles r so fake btw he drew them on with henna for sure"

kai:

"why does his hair look like that? those spikes go so high bro could be considerable as the 15th eight thousander" (bruh this one killed me like what💀)

he looks old now (about the redesign)

zane:

a toothbrush/bath brush (she has made it very clear she does not like his hair)

jonny bravo💀

"hes like one of those hermetically sealed containers his hair is flat on the top and the sideburns are like the bits to close the thing shut" (WHERE DOES SHE COME UP WITH SHIT LIKE THIS WHAT...)

iron man (post s3 of course)

a tempera paint tube lid (about movie zanes hair)

and at last, she just called him straight up ugly like not even gonna lie thats the first thing she said when she saw him

cole:

"look at him he's my fave his hair is nice."

a bit emo

he just like me (about the movie version, cuz she also likes AC/DC and rock in general)

like hulk (when he was a ghost)

lloyd:

coconut head from ned school survival guide (when he was a kid)

idk he reminds me of the ninja turtles (cuz green)

"his eyes give off snake vibes"

nya:

dora the explorer

"she looks like she got the bob just because it was trendy and it do not look good on her"

pixal:

"why she look like that"

"extra fake cuz they already made out of plastic and she has the audacity to paint metal details on her face like come on girl so fake"

morro:

"tf is he supposed to be"

"why do his eyebrows look like that"

"why is he green when the other ones are all yellow"

ugly💀

garmadon:

"reminds me of the flintstones lady the one with the bone on her head"

minecraft spider (for some reason immediately followed with "incredible")

honorable mentions also include:

"they r like the winx they transform ENCHANTIIIIXX~" (after seeing how zane changed post s3 lol)

dollar store power rangers

"hold on he kinda looks like gerard way" (about possesed lloyd LMAO)

"it's like the wafer they give you with ice cream" (about wu's hat)

and thats the end of the ninjago slander thank u for coming and goodnight

[cobalt-knave]

Whump Fic Recs pt. 1 (& a brief love letter and tagging tutorial)

Ah, whump, my most beloved genre of fanfiction. What is whump? Whump refers to stories prominently featuring injury or sickness and/or the care and recovery thereof. This is most often in the hurt/comfort category or the hurt no comfort category. It is a wonderful opportunity to shake up dynamics and reveal hidden character depths in a high stress situation. What do you do when the strong one is hurt? How does that call into question your feelings towards them? How does that call into question their feelings towards themself and their role? Who will care for the one who always caretakes? It’s a great tonal shift too. Just *chef’s kiss*. Plus, you know what? It’s sometimes just fun to run your favorite characters through the plinko.

How do you tag whump and why should you? The tags on ao3 to use are”

 “Whump” (not just “whumptober” or “whumptober 2022″ or other variations),

“hurt/comfort” or “hurt no comfort”

“angst”

“sickfic” if illness is the featured whump

“injury recovery” if such a thing is covered

“torture”, “car accidents”, “broken bones”, “blood and injury”, “blood and violence”, etc as relevant (start typing into the additional tags section to see what the common tag is to use.

“Character Name Whump” or “Hurt Character Name” if in a specific fandom whumping a specific character

all of the previous should be used in addition to the base whump tag.

if relevant, use the archive warning “graphic depictions of violence”

why tag? BECAUSE I WANNA READ IT AND FIND IT AND IT IS WOEFULLY UNDERTAGGED. It is also good to tag if someone wants to avoid it by excluding it from the search.

Alright. On to the recs. Multifandom including The Mechanisms, The Magnus Archives, King Falls AM, The Adventure Zone, Our Flag Means Death, The Murderbot Diaries, and Stargate SG-1.  There will be more whump recs to come.

On Account Of The Jonny Doll by NammiKisulora

Fandom: The Mechanisms

Ah, NammiKisulora knows how to make these immortals hurt in such twisted and unique ways.

 “Yeah. Get in, will you? I want to get going. Jonny keeps waking up. W-without skin.”    “Oh Yes! That Must Be On Account Of The Jonny Doll!”

Jonny is executed, which is a normal enough occurrence. It’s only afterwards things go wrong.

We Still Have the Radio - I. and  We Still Have the Radio - II. by luckjustkissedyouhello                

Fandom: King Falls AM

luckjustkissedyouhello writes some damn good, damn brutal whump!

The next thing he’s aware of is water against his face, wait no, all of him, where he lays on his left side. Water that is rapidly rising. He lays there dazed. Then a groan above his head has him jerking back into the moment, fear lancing through him, stealing his breath. Ben.

In which Ben and Sammy are in a car accident.

bleeding by Athina_Blaine

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Martin goes and gets himself stabbed. It's inconvenient.

Re-Initialization by CompletelyDifferent

Fandom: The Murderbot Diaries

This Unit: Where is my owner, Dr. Mensah?

Dr. Yuen: Well, that’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? SecUnit, where did you last physically interact with Dr. Ayda Mensah?

Information Retrieval: Dr. Ayda Mensah last interacted with This Unit on Preservation Station at 08:27:22 on 4098-09-17 CRST.

This Unit: You do not have permission to access that information.

Dr. Yuen: You’re incorrect, SecUnit. We do. Answer the question.

(When the infamous rogue SecUnit of the Preservation Alliance gets captured, the corporate techs assigned to it expected to be able to get some juicy data, or at least some insights into its cracked governor module. They didn't expect something so... basic.)

trust me by gaysidecharacter

Fandom: The Adventure Zone: Balance

Everyone gets real sick and Lup is having a time.

Not an echo even by Hopeful_Foolx

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

They stop the Unknowing. There is an explosion. And trapped under rubble and panic, Jon wakes up. So does Tim. Three prompts, one story. Starting with Day 4 - Running out of Time

Friends in Strange Places by beesandcats

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

"Steel in your side for so long was a weird feeling, Stede decided. It had actually been around hour six that he came to the conclusion, if anyone was keeping track. It had been around hour three, when he heard the snores from the other side of the deck, that he realized he should perhaps try to be friends with the steel in his side. Obviously, they were not friends."

A missing scene from Season 1, Episode 6. Stede's been stabbed and stuck to a pole all night. He's gonna need some help when everyone wakes up for the day.

Things Stay the Same by teyla

Fandom: King Falls AM

During blizzard season, Ben and Sammy, each for their own reasons, make an unwise choice. The experience that ensues should be life changing—though is it? 

In which there is a snowstorm, an accident, a soaked through jacket, and thoughts of revealing secrets.

Lifestock by NammiKisulora

Fandom: The Mechanisms

"Guys, you get what this means? It means fresh meat, every day for as long as we like." "The fuck are you talking about?" "Just sayin' we could leave his leg attached, tie him up, and bring him along. Carve off what we like at mealtimes instead. We dunno how long we've got to lie low for."

Tim is held captive for food after a battle.

Between A Rock And A Hard Place by Sam Walker

Fandom: Stargate SG-1

To save Daniel’s life, Jack has to do that hardest of all things: talk.

This fic is written from Jack's perspective. Daniel is involved in an accident off-world and the only thing Jack can do to help is talk to Daniel while everyone else works. I love this fic for the interaction between Jack and Daniel, and for the insights into Jack's motivations. Despite being mostly Jack and Daniel, you get a sense of camaraderie about SG1 and you can see just how much Jack cares about his team.

And if you read any of these, be sure to leave kind comments for the authors!