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s-horne · 5 years ago

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Still taking prompts? Superfamily au were tony takes baby peter to vist steve at work by getting baby peter to walk up to him and cuddle his leg.

“Papapapapapa,” Peter babbled happily, hands tugging at Tony’s collar as they walked through the busy offices. “Papapapapapa.”

“Yeah,” Tony said a little distractedly as he bumped a door open with his hip. “Going to see your Pops.”

Peter clapped loudly and let out a loud squeal. “Papapa, Dadada.”

“Tony!”

Tony turned to see Sam heading towards him and Peter started waving as he recognised the man standing in front of them.

“I didn’t know you were coming in today,” Sam said, ducking when Peter got a little too enthusiastic in his waving and nearly took Sam’s eye out. “And my little man! How’s my dude?”

“Full of beans, aren’t you?” Tony cooed, turning to tickle Peter’s stomach. “Just a little ball of energy that Daddy really can’t cope with alone. So we’ve come to see Papa, haven’t we?”

Sam snorted, holding out his hand to let Peter gum at his fingers. “He’s just coming out of a board meeting, actually. Managed to escape a bit earlier, myself.”

“Hope you used the old ‘promised, pre-arranged meeting’ that you couldn’t possibly get out of.”

“I did,” Sam laughed. “Worked like a treat.”

“Well, I’ll see what other tricks I can remember to tell you Friday – if you’re still up for dinner?”

Yanking his hand away when a tooth caught his finger, Sam bopped Peter on the nose. “I know what you’re doing, but I will put up with your match-making as long as this one is still awake to entertain me for the first course. Those are my conditions.”

Tony hitched Peter higher on his hip, wincing when the boy let out a loud yell directly into his ear. “Fine. Conditions accepted. Now let me go and deposit this ball of squealing energy.”

Another snort escaped Sam. “Right. Good luck with that. See you – and you, my little man.”

Taking Peter’s hand in his, Tony tried to control his wave and keep eye-pokes to a minimum.

The rest of the walk to Steve’s office was uneventful. As uneventful as it could be with a squirming baby, anyway. At nearly 18 months, Peter was very energetic and desperate to explore everything. It took every ounce of Tony’s concentration to keep Peter in his arms when the boy decided that he wanted to get a closer look at the carpet or touch the art decorating the walls.

When Tony could finally see the open plan offices that Steve’s closed office overlooked, he bent to set Peter out of his arms and onto the floor, letting him run off. Tony had spent enough time at Steve’s building to know and trust everyone on his husband’s team and there were no escape points for Peter to slip through.

With his arms finally child-free, Tony took a moment to deposit his bag and shake out his muscles. The boy was a hefty weight and Tony wasn’t quite built like his husband.

“Pa! Hi!”

Tony looked up when he heard actual words replace Peter’s constant stream of babble and grinned when he spotted Steve standing over someone’s desk, deep in conversation and pointing at something on their computer screen.

“Hi! Hi, Pa!”

With his dad finally in his sights, Tony watched Peter walk across the office determinedly. His legs carried him quickly across the floor and Tony was pleased to see only one major wobble.

“Papa – hi, Papa! Up, up, Papa!”

When he got close enough, Peter all but threw himself at Steve’s leg, arms tight around his calf as he craned his neck back to see his dad’s face. Tony’s heart thumped when Steve’s face lit up.

“Pete!” Steve bent down and swept Peter up, swinging him through the air before dropping him onto his hip. “What are you doing here?”

“Papa! Lunch for Papapapa!”

“Lunch for me? Thank you, baby.”

Peter squealed again and Tony laughed loudly at Steve’s full-body wince, giving away his position. Steve’s gaze quickly fell on him and Tony went dutifully when he was beckoned, accepting the kiss that Steve dropped on his cheek but not making a move to take Peter from him.

“He’s wriggly today,” Steve commented when Peter decided that the bowl of paperclips on the nearby desk looked enticing and tried to make a leap for them.

“Yeah,” Tony snorted, letting Peter grab his finger as a distraction. “Why the hell do you think I brought him in?”

Adopting a hurt look, Steve secured Peter against his shoulder, grabbing his tie before it could be sucked into Peter’s mouth. “Because you missed me?”

“Hm.” Tony reached out to pull Peter’s shirt down over his stomach. “Possibly a small element of that, too. A tiny amount, though.”

“Of course.” Steve wrapped his arm around Tony’s waist and kissed him briefly. “Tiny.”

#i wrote a thing #stony fic #anon #stony fic rec #superfamily fic #stony au #stevetony fic #stony ficlet #steve rogers #tony stark #peter stark rogers #superfamily au #an april assortment

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teacupfulofstarshine · 5 years ago

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you are my dad (boogie woogie woogie)

summary: five times logan accidentally referred to virgil as his dad, and two times he purposefully referred to virgil as his dad

(OR: a birthday fic for the lovely @lovelylogans set in her STELLAR gilmore girls au!)

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNALISE!!! if y'all haven't read the sideshire files you're missing out, it's so soft and good and wonderful and i promise you will love it

cw: illness, alcohol, drunkenness (but none of these are angsty, it's all fluff)

wordcount: 2819

read it on ao3!

(occasion the first: the nineteenth month of logan’s life)

“You can never tell anyone about this, kid. I’ve never done this in front of anyone and I never will again, you understand me?” Logan, strapped into his portable high chair, stares at Virgil while chewing on his Jupiter teething toy, not saying anything. Virgil assumes that it’s an agreement and slides the hair elastic off of his wrist.

Carefully, he gathers all of his bangs into one hand and slips the elastic around them, twisting and sliding and twisting again until he has a little unicorn-horn ponytail sticking off his head and a clear line of sight. “Alrighty. What do you want for breakfast, Lo, huh?”

Logan slobbers on his teething toy and kicks his little bare feet vigorously. He drops the teething toy on his tray and loudly declares, “BA!”

“Bananas?” Virgil guesses. He’s never been as good at interpreting Logan’s variety of noises as Patton, but Logan waves his little arms and lets out a long string of baby nonsense, so Virgil assumes he must be at least somewhat on the right track. “Okay, kid. You get bananas now, and I’ll make us some chocolate-chip banana pancakes. Deal?”

Logan slaps his tray and picks up his teething toy again. Virgil pulls open the fridge and carefully fills one of Logan’s sippy cups with apple juice, settling it into the cup holder slot. Logan immediately abandons his toy and begins to nom on the spout to get some juice.

Virgil slices up bananas and sets a little plate onto Logan’s tray, along with a small plastic kiddie fork. Logan lowers the fork towards the slices of banana with the fierce determination of a child attempting to win a toy from a claw crane game. Virgil huffs out a soft laugh and returns to the kitchen counter. He moves through the motions of pancake batter, throwing in banana slices and chocolate chips, and he’s completely in the kitchen zone. Logan’s happy chewing noises and babbles become a soothing background noise.

He’s jolted away from his pancake batter abruptly when he hears Logan wail.

Virgil whirls around, whisk dropping on the floor and splattering pancake batter everywhere. Logan is crying, holding one hand out, and his little pointer finger is red. “Oh, you - did you bite your finger?”

Logan sniffles and cries, holding his hand out. “Paaaaaaa!”

Virgil winces. “No, kid, Papa’s not -”

Logan makes grabby hands at Virgil. “Pa! Paaaaa, papapapa, paaaa, paaaa!”

Virgil freezes. “I - you - am I Papa?”

“Paaaaaaaa!”

Virgil carefully takes Logan’s tiny hand, leaning forward and carefully kissing his little red finger in the way he’s seen Patton do millions of times. “There we go, Logan. I - Papa kissed it better, so we’re okay, right?”

Logan sniffles. “Paaa . . .”

Virgil carefully offers him a disk of banana. “You want some more banana?” Logan wipes at his little eyes, leans forward, and carefully takes the banana chunk in his mouth. “There we go. You’re okay. It’s okay, Logan.”

*~*~*~*~*

(occasion the second: logan’s junior year of highschool)

Virgil is really sick of walking into the Sanders house and discovering a sick Sanders (pun very much not intended, thank you, Patton).

He nudges the front door open, arms laden with takeout containers of meal-prep for the week and bags of groceries to re-stock the kitchen and two cardboard drinks trays full of to-go cups. Patton’s not home, off at some kind of business conference, and he’d promised to take care of Logan.

(Take care of our kid, Patton had said, and Virgil had been caught so off-guard by the pronoun our that he’d barely remembered to agree.)

So he has lunches for Logan for every day of the week, groceries so that he can make his own dinners, and a stock of smoothies full of hidden nutrients for study breaks. Virgil kicks the door shut behind him, struggling to not drop any of the things he’s holding.

“Logan, you wanna come help me with your meals and shit?”

There’s no immediate answer, which isn’t worrying in and of itself; it is almost 7:30 AM on a Saturday, and Logan is a teenager. Virgil sets the drinks trays and takeout containers on the kitchen, drops the grocery bags on the floor, and goes to lock the door behind him. He hears footsteps behind him. “Sorry if I woke you, but -”

He turns to face Logan and almost drops the keys. Logan is wrapped up like a burrito in his thick quilt, dragging it along the kitchen floor like a cape. His eyes and nose are red, his cheeks are flushed, and his hair looks like Remus’s after a late night of partying. He sways in the doorway.

“Logan?” Virgil asks, keeping his voice soft.

“Virgil,” Logan rasps. “I . . . believe that I . . . may be ill.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Virgil says. Logan blinks at him, once, uncharacteristically slow.

“Could you please stop the room from spinning? And - and perhaps you could - could do me the favor of - of catching -”

Logan pitches forward, and Virgil lunges to catch him. He feels Logan’s forehead and swears with how hot it is. “Alright, buddy, back into bed with you.”

“Y - you brought me . . . groceries,” Logan manages. “I . . . we have to -”

“You do not have to do anything except get your ass back in bed,” Virgil says. “I’m calling Jean and leaving her in charge for the day, she can handle it. I’m staying here with you.”

“Y - no, you - go t’ work -”

“Over my dead body, kid. Come on, back to bed.” Logan takes a single step and his knees immediately buckle beneath him. Virgil doesn’t think twice before scooping the Logan burrito up into his arms, shifting so that Logan’s head rests in the curve of his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

He maneuvers Logan back into bed, tucking him in and taking his temperature. It reads 101.1 - hot enough to warrant concern, but not so hot that he needs hospitalization. Good; Virgil’s had his fill of seeing Sanders boys in the hospital. He soaks a washcloth in ice-cold water, and Logan hisses when he lays it on his forehead, swiftly transitioning from a hiss of pain to a hiss of relief.

“Stay here, kid. I’ll bring you something to drink in just a second, okay?”

Logan makes a weak, pained noise from his bed. “Papa?”

It takes every ounce of self-control Virgil possesses not to bolt or flinch or scream or otherwise negatively react. He knows this is Logan’s fever-addled brain speaking, he knows it doesn’t mean anything. “Yeah?”

“Papa, I don’ - I don’ feel so good,” Logan whimpers. “Papa, I - I think - I think ‘m sick, Papa.”

“Yeah,” Virgil says, approaching the bed and gently brushing a hand against Logan’s cheek. “Yeah, you are, kid.”

“Don’ like it, Papa.” “I know. It’s gonna be okay, Logan.”

“Papa, not - not gonna leave?” Logan sounds so small and fragile, and Virgil remembers the first time a tiny bundle of baby was placed in his arms and the first time he met those vibrant indigo eyes and the first time he knew that he would give anything in his life for this child and his happiness.

“No, kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

*~*~*~*~*

(occasion the third: logan’s senior year of high school)

“You Sanders men wouldn’t have a proper diet or a proper sleep schedule without me, would you?” Virgil sighs. He’d worked a late shift at the diner today; when Patton had picked up dinner for himself and Logan, Virgil had kissed him quickly and told him not to wait up.

Now, carefully shutting the door behind him, he’s beginning to think that he should have told Patton to pass the message on to his son.

It’s nearly midnight, and Logan is slumped across the kitchen table. The table is covered in a mountain of SAT prep books, all of them annotated in Logan’s cramped, increasingly sloppier handwriting. Logan has blue and black pen marks smeared all over his face, his tie is askew, and he’s creating a small puddle of drool as he breathes in and out.

“Aw, geez,” Virgil sighs. He toes off his shoes and leaves them in the tray, carefully dropping his coat and apron into a heap. Logan makes a soft snuffling noise. “You gotta get sleep, kid. How are you supposed to take an exam if you can barely keep your eyes open, huh?”

He carefully closes all of the books and piles them up neatly on the table, slides the pen from Logan’s hand and fills up his pencil case, piles the post-it notes in place. It takes some maneuvering, but Virgil finally manages to pick up Logan. He stirs in Virgil’s arms. “Whhmmmm?”

“Hey, kid,” Virgil murmurs. “We’re getting you to bed, okay?”

“Need t’study, Papa . . .”

Virgil’s heart clenches as he carries Logan to his room. “You need to sleep. You won’t pass the exam if you fall asleep in the middle of it, will you?”

“No, Papa . . .”

“Don’t burn yourself out. Take breaks, let your body recover. Isn’t it you who told me that the brain stores and processes information when you sleep?”

“Ye, Papa . . .”

Virgil carefully settles Logan on his bed, pulling off his tie and belt and shoes and glasses. “Sorry, Papa,” Logan yawns, eyes still closed. Virgil pulls the folded blanket from the foot of Logan’s bed and tucks it around him.

“Don’t apologize. Just sleep, okay?”

Logan is asleep again before Virgil’s even left the room.

*~*~*~*~*

(occasion the fourth: the aftermath of logan’s twenty-first birthday)

“Who knew my boyfriend was a lightweight?” Roman laughs. His second beer of the night is half-finished in his hand, and there’s a barely-buzzed but very-drunk Logan curled in his lap and lazily kissing his face. Virgil, the designated driver and therefore sober, would be slightly offended that his basically-son is making out with his boyfriend in front of him, but it is Logan’s twenty-first birthday, and they’re all chaste kisses along Roman’s jawline.

“I wasn’t expecting it, based on the stories Patton’s told me.”

“Do tell!” Roman says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I will not,” Virgil says. “You need good healthy role models in your life, and if I tell you stories about shenanigans you’ll never take Patton seriously again.”

He finally manages to pile two giggly drunk teenagers into the back of his car and pull away from the remnants of Logan’s party. They’re whispering conspiratorially in the back seat. Virgil turns on his music on a low volume and keeps his eyes on the road.

It takes Roman approximately seven minutes to finally kiss Logan goodbye and stumble down the driveway to his house. (Logan does not make his job easier by clinging like a starfish and begging for “jus’ one more kiss, please?”) Virgil nods at Isadora when she opens the door, and she offers him a nod in return as she ushers Roman inside.

“I - I love him,” Logan slurs, yawning and leaning forward so that his head bonks against the driver’s seat.

“I know.”

“No, you - I - I love him, Daddy. I love him.”

Virgil adjusts his rearview mirror and laughs softly. “I know, Logan. I think all of Sideshire knows you love him.”

“They do?” Logan hums. “Do - d’you think Roman knows I love him, Daddy?”

“I’m sure Roman knows,” Virgil says.

“I should tell ‘im more, Daddy.”

“You can tell him everything you want tomorrow. Right now, we’re going home, and you’re drinking a bottle of water before you go to bed.”

“The - the human body is seventy-five percent water, Daddy. Ex - except Roman’s body. His is just made of muscle and pretty.”

Virgil barely manages to contain the laughter bubbling in his throat.

*~*~*~*~*

(occasion the fifth: logan’s sophomore year of college)

You have: three new voicemail messages!

First message: Saturday at 1:17 AM

“Daddy - Daddy, ‘s me, ‘s Logan, an’ I think I’m jus’ a tiiiiiiiny bit drunk? I wanna make a - a - a snack , but not like Roman, cause he’s a snack but I don’t - uuuuuuuum . . . what . . . was I askin’ you? Dunno . . .”

Second message: Saturday at 1:27 AM

“Daddy, ‘m sorry, got distracted cause - cause Roman is jus’ - jus’ so pretty - but I hada . . . a . . . question! Yeah, that’s the word. I wanna make those muffins you make, the ones with th’jam in the middle, an’ - but I don’ remember the recipe - how - how d’you put the jam in the muffins without cuttin’ ‘em in half? I don’ understand . . . I’ . . . call m’back, kay?”

Third message: Saturday at 2:48 AM

“Uh . . . Daddy . . . how d’you get batter stains outta y’r clothes . . .”

(“Virge? You okay?”

“Logan leaves the weirdest drunk voicemails.”)

*~*~*~*~*

(plus one: the aftermath of logan’s graduation from chilton)

“You really did that, huh, kid?” Virgil asks. Logan looks at him, mortar slightly askew, eyes bright and happy. He’s holding his diploma, and Virgil reaches over to ruffle his hair. He gently pulls Logan into a hug, and Logan holds on perhaps slightly tighter than normal. Virgil isn’t judging; he’s holding on tightly as well.

“Did what?” Logan asks. “Graduated? Were you expecting me not to?”

“No, of course I knew you’d do that.” Virgil feels the lump creeping up his throat. “I - I just - aw, hell, Logan -”

“Are you crying?!” Logan asks incredulously.

“No, shut the fuck up,” Virgil hisses reflexively. Logan laughs, and he sounds watery too, so Virgil lets it go. “I just - you - I -” Logan waits patiently while he takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. “Good speech,” he finally settles on.

“Oh,” Logan says, voice small. “That.”

“You - you called me Dad.”

“That I did.”

“Was that on purpose?” Virgil asks. He holds his breath a little, not sure what he’ll do if Logan says no. He’s not sure what he’ll do if Logan says -

“Yes,” Logan says. “Of course it was. You may not have contributed to my genetic makeup, but - but you are my dad, Virgil. In every way that truly matters. You and Dad raised me, you kept me fed and healthy, the diner is my second home. You’re my - you’re my dad.”

Virgil hugs Logan tightly, one hand gently gripping the back of Logan’s hair and the other squeezing around his waist. “You are my son,” he whispers into Logan’s hair. “In every way that matters, you are my son.”

Logan takes a deep breath, and then, so quietly Virgil almost misses it, he whispers, “Eight, dad.”

Virgil inhales, shakily, and exhales, “Sixteen, kid.”

*~*~*~*~*

(plus two: the aftermath of virgil asking logan’s permission to propose)

Virgil curls his hands into fists on his jeans, staring very intensely at Logan’s sneakers. “I promise,” he says lowly, “that I’m not trying to intrude on your life. I know how important Patton is to you, I know how important you are to him. And I know it’s archaic and kind of sexist to ask for someone’s hand in marriage as if I’m asking permission for someone’s property, but - but I - you’ve put up with so much instability in your life, with your shitbag of a sperm donor -”

Logan snorts at the reference to Christopher, and Virgil lets the corner of his lip quirk up into a smile before settling back into Serious Mode. “- and I would never want to make you feel like you have to accept me. I’m not trying to marry Patton because I think I have to, or because I think I deserve to marry him, or - or because he owes me something. I want to marry him because - because I’ve spent so long loving him, and so long being loved by him, and we’ve made a home together and a life together and - hell, we’ve raised a kid together - and i just -”

“I’m sure this is all just one big insurance scam,” Logan jokes. Virgil wheezes, and Logan reaches out to take his hand.

“Virgil.” He pauses, and then, “Dad.”

Virgil’s head jerks up, and Logan smiles softly at him. “I know that you would never propose if you weren’t completely serious. I appreciate you coming to make sure that I would be alright with this marriage, because I know someone asking you this question if you were in my shoes would help to ease your anxiety about the transition.”

“That was . . . very emotionally astute.”

Logan smirks. “I know.”

“Brat,” Virgil laughs. He blinks, and suddenly his face is wet.

“I appreciate this,” Logan repeats, “but Roman and I have literally been planning your marriage since we met. You do not need to worry about my opinion in this matter. If it will ease your mind, though, yes, Dad, you have my blessing to propose to Papa.”

“You haven’t called him Papa in years,” Virgil says.

“I haven’t had another parent to call ‘Dad’ in years, either.”

Virgil couldn’t stop himself from hugging Logan if he tried. “Eight,” he says, and Logan hugs him tightly.

“Sixteen, Dad.”

#starshinewrites #annalise's birthday fic!#annalise tag!#platonic analogical #cw alcohol #cw illness

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klubborilackihsportova012 · 3 years ago

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Sad!! Papapapap PA PA! Sad! Papapapa PAPA @caaaja (at Klub Borilačkih Sportova "012") https://www.instagram.com/p/CQtFW_tHybS/?utm_medium=tumblr

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miyakyo · 7 years ago

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PA PAPA PAPAPA PAPA PA PAPAPAPA PA PAPAPA PA PAPAPA PA PAPA PA PAPAPA PAPA PA PAPAPA PAPA PA

Hoseok teaching dance

#yall know what im talking about #that's what happens when you're just talented and don't know how to explain people how you do it #that's so cute tho #hoseok dance God #j-hope #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #beyond the scene #bts quotes #bangtan quotes #bts texts #bangtan texts #bts scenarios #bts hobi #J-Hope dance teacher #bangtan boys

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holderoftrash · 5 years ago

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he’s literally talking the windex bottle and is cleaning a mirror and he’s like “pa papapapa papa *giggles* ohh.” and it’s the stupidest and fucking funniest thing in the world ahhhhhhhhh i like this boy too much

#kill me #ive gone off the charts #i can't get over this #he has really nice hands #why am i like this #reaaaaaaaaally nice hands.

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therecordnerd · 7 years ago

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Pa papapa papa papapapa pa Run run run run run away . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #records #recordnerd #recordcollection #recordcollector #vinylnerd #ropstyle #nowplaying #nowspinning #recordoftheday #recordofthenight #vinylpowerhour #vinylcollector #vinyl #talkingheads #davidbyrne (at Fort Greene, Brooklyn)

#davidbyrne #vinylpowerhour #recordnerd #nowspinning #vinylcollector #nowplaying #talkingheads #vinyl #recordofthenight #recordcollector #recordcollection #ropstyle #records #recordoftheday #vinylnerd

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meracaubebas · 8 years ago

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Diseret The Beach Boys

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yash, kembali menulis di akhir pekan. minggu ini sangat menyenangkan. maaf harus tulisan gue lagi yang nongol, azizah masi sibuk :( Btw, maaf lagi kalau ini benar benar meracau. ya karena gitu deh hhe hhe hhe?

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Seperti bocoran pada gif. diatas, kali ini gue mau meracau tentang sebuah band yang mungkin baru gue denger sekitar kurleb setahun kebelakang tapi udah ngebuat gue jatuh cinta mampus dan menyesal kenapa dulu gue begitu culun sampe sampe musik se indah begini gak gue dengerin secara rutin.

The Beach Boys!!!! projek keluarga ini tentu gak kaya projekan Al, El, Dul dengan Ahmad dhani. ya walau secara peran memang percis! Brian Wilson, Carl Wilson, dan Dennis Wilson adalah adik kaka dan mereka di menejeri oleh ayahnya sendiri. mirip kan? fuck gue baru sadar juga pas nulis ini. Untuk lengkapnya the beach boys bisa google ye jan males njing.

kalo lo semua ngarep sebuah tulisan layaknya media media ternama mengenai musik, monggo di close aja ini tumblr, daripada kalian kecewa.

Pertama gue denger the beach boys ini dari coverannya PanduFuzztoni di soundcloud nya, kisaran akhir 2015 kurleb lah. bener bener langsung jatu cinta gak basa basi, langsung sayang, mau nikahin. kenapa ya kok bisa gue langsung jatu cinta gitu? padahal gue baru denger musik kaya gitu (betapa rendahnya selera musik gue). bahkan the beatles pun gue gak demen demen banget.

gue merupakan tipe tipe yang mendengarkan lagu dari unik nya dan liriknya (pengecualian post rock instrumental, the trees strip, hhe). pertama kali gue mendengarkan dari Sc nya Pandu adalah surfer girl. Gilak nih orang, gahar banget make fuzz fuzz tapi harmonisasinya bikin sange banget. Langsung lah gue penasaran sama the beach boys. Eh pas ngecek, loh tai kok gini…… gak sekenceng si pandu yang bawain tai. Tapi kok malah makin enak!! Langsung lah gue tenggelem.

Lanjut lag uke dua yang gue dengerin itu God Only Knows….. bangsat, sejujurnya gue merinding waktu denger pertama, silahkan hina gue sesuka lo, tapi gue memang sangat senang dengernya malah hampir nangis bahagia. Fuck you. Ya. Ini lyricnya (lagunya cari sendiri you stupid lazy ass) :

I may not always love you But long as there are stars above you You never need to doubt it I'll make you so sure about it God only knows what I'd be without you If you should ever leave me Though life would still go on believe me The world could show nothing to me So what good would living do me God only knows what I'd be without you God only knows what I'd be without you If you should ever leave me Well life would still go on believe me The world could show nothing to me So what good would living do me God only knows what I'd be without you God only knows what I'd be without you

Cantik banget tai liriknya. Kalo lo dengerin sambil mejemin mata, opening lagunya bikin gemeter. Cara nyanyinya yang memelas lirih tapi menggoda, anjing abis kata kata gue. Intinya, setiap nada yang diambil, nyeret ke dalem semakin dalem. Lirik? Anjing banget. Ini lagu cinta, lagu yang mengungkapkan betapa brian Wilson jatuh cinta sama seorang wanita. Tapi di mulai dengan kata kata pesimis “I may not always love you”, what the fuck brian?!!!!! Jenius ketika lo liat bait selanjutnya. Itu cuman candaan doang “But long as there are stars above you” , ya yang artinya GUE GA PERNAH GA SAYANG SAMA LO! Tai! Ngablu banget brian ini emang. Same in the second verse. So many songs say how you can't go on without the other person, but Wilson sings "life would still go on". But again, it's a ruse. He says life would go on, but that it would not be worth living. Again, he flips it round. That's why this is one of the best love songs ever. Plus, let's not forget that the music itself is unfathomably touching. Mau mati aja, tapi ini belom selese ini bukan bedah lyric anjing.

Layaknya The beatles yang merupakan saingan (personalnya) the beach boys (atau brian Wilson doang?), the beach boys mengalami perubahan genre kesini sininya. Dari awalnya sesuai namanya “beach” mereka membawakan music surf rock. Anak pantai. Nyanyi lagu santai. Pasti kalian banyak denger lagu lagu mereka tp mungkin kalian gak sadar kalo itu mereka. Gue pun gitu. Kaya “papapapa umamamaw papa umamaw” familiar? Atau “banana babanana” nya minion. ITU SEMUA LAGU MEREKA! Tai emang, bisa bisanya gue tau lagu gatau band hebat dibelakangnya.

Music pada era surf sangat asik buat joget, gue sering memakainya untuk naikin mood. Crancky gitar fender jazzmaster/jaguar/strato ditambah gebukan gebukan yang enerjik, betotan bass yang lihai, sama gak lupa yang bikin gue jatuh cinta adalah pembagian suara dan harmonisasi yang terbentuknya, ngebawa lo ke nuansa pemuda pantai banget. Enerjik. Emang di pantai santai doang kaya si stipen kokonat. Tapi emang pada era ini liriknya menurut gue biasa aja, ya namanya juga lirik lirik buat anak muda, gausa mendalam mendalam, emang music surf nya dan harmonisasinya yang dibentuk sama si beach boys ini. Btw, paragraph ini kok sok sokan bgt gue ya. Yauda lanjut aja ya dari pada dihujat karna ke sotoian ini.

Tak lain dan tak bukan, otak dari semua ke anjingan ini adalah ya si Brian Wilson ini. Orang yang dilebeli jenius ini emang beneran jenius se bangsat bangsatnya. Dimulai dari merasa tersainginya dia dengan album the beatles yang rubber soul. Dia pikr the beatles menyontek harmoni yang ia buat. Selain itu brian ini emang rada halu, kesehatan mental dia memang kacau. Sering denger suara suara di kepalanya gitu dan ngebuat nerves setiap manggung. Makanya dia memilih untuk gak ikut manggung lagi dan lebih focus ngebuat lagu aja di studio. Inilah pilihan terbaik di hidupnya. Anjai.

But, seriously, PET SOUNDS! Tai banget. Master piece. Kalo ada yang lebih tinggi lagi gatau deh apaan. Berubah drastis, dari mereka yang Cuma format band apa adanya, di album ini brian bener bener semau maunya. Apa yang ada di otaknya di limpahin semua. Berbagai instrument. Mainin dua nada dasar yang berbeda antar instrumennya, sampe main sama anjing di dalam studio biar dapet suara “bark” nya doang. Tolol. Gak paham lagi. Gak ada yang bolong di album ini.

Thanks for LSD, yang telah membantu brian Wilson sampai ketahap ini. Ngablu banget, instrument, harmoni suaranya, liriknya yang bener bener sentimental. Kacau sekacau kacaunya. Di setiap lagunya lo bisa ngerasain semua yang dia rasain, mulai dari senengnya sampai sedihnya. Berasa nyanyi buat lo. Betapa fucked up nya di dalem kepala seorang brian Wilson yang udah halu karena penyakit, ditambah lagi sama substansi yang makin halu, gimana gak luas itu pikiran. Jeezzz.

Anjing ini gue meracau di words udah 3 halaman aja, dan gue masih mau meracau ini sebenernya masih banyak yang mau gue bahas. Tapi kepanjang capek juga bacanya. Untuk memenuhi hasrat kalian se fucked up apa the beach boys dan brian Wilson nya sendiri, kalian bisa nonton film nya yang berjudulu “Love & mercy”. Lagi lagi, gue dibuat nangis sama film ini, nangis dari berbagai emosi.

Di paragraph terakhir, gue mau ngasih tau kalo lagu I guess I just wasn't made for these times, bener bener membuat gue se sedih itu setelah lo nonton film yang gue bilang tadi. Betapa frustasinya seorang brian Wilson. Di otaknya bener bener rame, tapi kadang dia gabisa menyampaikan itu ke temen temennya yang lain. Bener bener sedih. Dan lagu ini, kalo kalian pake ketika trip or stoned, bakal nyeret kalian dalem banget. Indah tapi sedih, tapi lo tergugah. Ah anjing cobain sendiri dah, sisipin di playlist. Oke segitu aja (segitu?wtf?) meracau dari gue kali ini. Terakhir, gue sangat menyarankan kalian mendengarkan the beach boys! Salam! Berikut lyric lagunya :

I keep looking for a place to fit Where I can speak my mind I've been trying hard to find the people That I won't leave behind They say I got brains But they ain't doing me no good I wish they could Each time things start to happen again I think I got something good goin' for myself But what goes wrong Sometimes I feel very sad Sometimes I feel very sad (Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into) Sometimes I feel very sad (Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into) I guess I just wasn't made for these times Every time I get the inspiration To go change things around No one wants to help me look for places Where new things might be found Where can I turn when my fair weather friends cop out What's it all about Each time things start to happen again I think I got something good goin' for myself But what goes wrong Sometimes I feel very sad Sometimes I feel very sad (Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into) Sometimes I feel very sad (Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into) I guess I just wasn't made for these times

#meracau bebas #opini #sakti #ngablu #the beach boys

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