would you sing to me

for your own peace of mind, maybe dont pay too close attention to the lyrics of some christmas songs.

this is the christmas card im sending out. steve didnt know what text i was gonna put behind it when he drew the picture.

(You can get this on redbubble!)

and it turns out that clint, who has been humming christmas carols for weeks now, doesnt actually know any of the real lyrics, and has just been making them up as he goes along. this is his latest masterpiece:

Winter Soldier’s Gunnin’ You Down (To the tune of Santa Claus is Coming to Town)

You better watch out, you better not cry

You’ll probably bleed out, I’m tellin’ you why

Winter Soldier’s gunnin’ you down

He’s got a hit list, he’s starting a fight

He’s clenching his fist, it’s shiny and bright

Winter Soldier’s gunnin’ you down!

He sees you when you’re sleeping

He knows when you’re awake

His aim is really fucking good and he’s gonna assassinate

You better watch out, you better not cry

You’ll probably bleed out, I’m tellin’ you why

Winter Soldier’s gunnin’ you down

He’s yanking out wheels and firing guns

If you were smart you’d probably run

Winter Soldier’s gunning you down!

Winter Soldier’s gunning you down!

driving in a car 20 years from now
  • radio: *plays old kpop song*
  • husband: honey, i dare you
  • me: *starts singing along*
  • husband: babe -
  • me: *sings louder*
  • husband: WOULD YOU SHUT UP I WANT TO HEAR HOW I SOUNDED BACK THEN

John makes his way up the stairs with their takeaway, and pauses on the top step as he hears a faint cry. He half winces, half smiles. Perhaps Rosie getting used to her earlier bed-time right away was a bit ambitious.

He hears Sherlock’s voice from the hall- tutting, actually tutting, and so John hovers between the step and the doorway, unseen.

Sherlock comes into view, gently bouncing Rosie up and down in his arms. “Now, you’re not meant to be awake, I hope you know that,” and his voice is so soft that John’s breath catches in his throat. Sherlock should have spotted him hiding by now, but he is enraptured by Rosie. 

She wails loudly and Sherlock doesn’t even flinch. In fact, he laughs. “Yes, sorry, you’re stuck with me,” he says. “I would sing if it’d help, but that’s your Dad’s forté.”

John looks up, and blinks hard.

“Come on,” Sherlock murmurs. He’s rocking her, now, swaying her back into sleep. “Come on, darling. I know, let’s have a look out here, you’d like that, hmm?”

With one hand, Sherlock reaches across and opens the curtains a little. Rosie peers out- intrigued, but glazing over slightly as she drifts off. 

“You’re going to have so much fun,” Sherlock whispers. His head has bent down, his lips just brushing the top of her head. “Just look at that, Rosie. Billions of people in the world, all of them connected in some way, and they don’t even know it yet, some of them.” She sighs deeply, sleepily. “That’s it, sssh. You don’t know it yet, but you’re going to have the best adventure, I just know it.”

Her eyes are completely closed now, and Sherlock gradually slows his rocking. “But the best part is coming home,” he finishes, and he says with reverence, like it’s the most precious secret in the world.

John steps back to compose himself. When he goes through the doorway, Sherlock is off putting Rosie back into bed. He sets up the cutlery, the wine glasses, the containers of prawn crackers, and fortune cookies, and everything in between. 

He raises his head as he hears Sherlock’s quiet footsteps coming closer. “She’s not, you know that?”

Sherlock pours their wine, John’s glass first, then his own. “I’m sorry?”

“She’s not ‘stuck with you’,” John replies. 

Sherlock’s cheeks turn pink. “I- well-”

“She’s not,” John insists. He hands Sherlock his wine glass and taps it against his own. “We’re her family,” he says. He says it, bold and firm and clear as crystal.

Sherlock sets down the wine glass, and kisses him with the biggest grin on his face John has seen. They both pretend, for now, that it’s not a teary one.

  • brendon urie: allow me to exaggerate a memory or two, where summers lasted longer than, longer than we do
  • brendon urie: break involuntary ties, a secret so the spies could never find us out
  • brendon urie: fate will play us out with a song of pure romance
  • brendon urie: i'm not complaining that it's raining, i'm just saying that i like it a lot, more than you'd think if the sun would come out and sing with me
  • brendon urie: there's never air to breathe, there's never in-betweens, these nightmares always hang on past the dreams
  • brendon urie: there's nothing wrong with just a taste of what you've paid for
  • brendon urie: in love i've always been a mercenary but i never leave my post when the cash runs out. i want to make you quiver, make your backbone shiver
  • brendon urie: i'll take my chances with the devil tonight but i'm running out of time, if this is wrong i don't want to be right, let the fantasy die
  • brendon urie: you remind me of a few of my famous friends, well that all depends on what you qualify as friends
  • brendon urie: there's no residue of a torturer inside of your eyes
  • y'all: omg brendon is suuuuuuch a bad lyricist "im not as think as you drunk i am" lmaooo he SUX!!!!xD xD
6

Mike and Diana doodles 🐭💕🐭
@miikedrop

Driving in a car 20 years from now

radio: *plays old kpop songs*

husband: honey, i dare u

me: *starts singing along*

husband: babe…

me: *singing louder*

husband: WOULD YOU SHUT UP I WANT TO HEAR HOW I SOUNDED BACK THEN.

3

ready to go // panic! at the disco

❝I used to write songs, and you would give melody to my lyrics. And you would sing it for me, and I would listen while imagining that the words came from you and not from me.

We were quite a tandem then. With you and your guitar and your heavenly sent voice and charming looks, and with me and my pen, and my words, and my hope for our future. Two young people ready to conquer the world with music, melody, and words. I guess it was all too much for you. The pressure, the noise, the attention, and being on the stage.

I thought it was what you wanted. I wish I had seen the panic in your eyes every time you stepped on the stage. I wish I had known why your eyes keep searching for me in the crowd, and why you always held my hand tighter just before your performance. I wish I’d known that you just wanted to sing for me and not for everyone else. I wish I’d known that you never wanted to conquer the world with your music, but just my heart. I wish I’d known, because I would tell you then that love, you already did, you already have my heart, and we could stop creating music and I wouldn’t care as long as I have you. I wish I’d known that you’d never wanted anyone else attention, that you are contented with our own little world, and that every time I let go of your hand for you to walk on the stage, I’m letting you go piece by piece. Until one day, you never came back.

When you left me, all my written lyrics become half unfinished love poems, and love letters, a string of incoherent words without melody, without sound, but always with you.

Love, it was always written for you.❞

grunge + pink sapphic moodboard
(don’t remove caption)