ARTIST: Bob Dylan;
ALBUM: Greatest Hits;
TRACK:It Ain't Me Babe;
PLAYED: 1963 times.
Bob Dylan | It Ain’t Me Babe
i’m not the one you want, babe
i’ll only let you down
I know you're a fan of the next gen stuff, and I'm looking to get into it, so I was wondering if you had any fic recs for them? I'm not picky about ships!
DO I EVER, ANON. You’ve asked the perfect question and I’m going to do my best to offer my best recs so you become just as addicted to them as I am.
- A Small Spark Neglected - Teddy/James, there’s friendship and Auroring and nefarious plots and godfather Harry being a dork and it’s just the most wonderful fic
- The Grandfather Clock - Percy and James-centric, with eventual Teddy/James and Percy/Oliver (another of my ultimate ships that is tragically impossible to find substantial amounts of stuff for). Basically a character study of Percy and James, it will twist you up and wring you out and I’m going to reread it as soon as I’m done this answer
- A Life So Very Much Less Ordinary - a super-fascinating look at how the dynamics of the next gen work. It’s focused on Harry/Luna with some Teddy/James on the side and it’s so well-written that I can’t recommend it enough
- The Rules Of Being A Godson - Teddy/James. THANK YOU ALEXA FOR REMINDING ME OF THIS GEM OF A FIC MMMMM.
- Betrayal Is A Thorny Crown (You Wear It Well) - Teddy/James. Man oh man do I love this fic. It’s just so deliciously good. Mmmmm.
- What Seventeen Means - Teddy/James. I’ve read this one so many times and it just brings me so much joy
____-_I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages.