#John distracted by Paul

[waveofahand]

"If I Fell"; Fixing a Tie; Blowing the Lyrics

I don't think I ever realized that Paul was straightening John's tie as they were beginning to sing "If I Fell," which just makes me love it even more. But a couple of things to appreciate: 1) George looks like he's just WAITING for a screw up because John and Paul are clearly distracted. 2) George smiles as the moment he was waiting for happens, and John and Paul go tentative on the second verse, where it sounds like John is going to sing "give my heart" once more and Paul is sort-maybe-going-to-land-on "giii-trust in you." 3) Harrison's smile is PRICELESS

[good-to-drive]

Paul’s reflection was like a film strip cast onto empty, black air, and he watched it, spellbound, wondering who exactly had created that shimmering image.

An encounter with John in front of a mirror brings up strange feelings for Paul about image, reflections, and the parts that usually go unreflected.

[simplegenius042]

WIP Moodboard/Wednesday, Last Line and First Picrew

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies @aceghosts @imogenkol @cloudofbutterflies92 @cassietrn and @voidika

Tagging @josephseedismyfather @direwombat @noodlecupcakes @adelaidedrubman @raresvtm @derelictheretic @davrinsgriffons @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @florbelles @minilev @justasmolbard @yokobai and @seedsplease + anyone else who want to join.

WIP Wednesday for my Unnamed FC5 Omegaverse WIP, Moodboard for my Doki Doki Literature Club WIP You Make My Heart Go Doki Doki Literature Club!, Last Lines for my Wednesday WIP Word Of Woe and a picrew of Silva during Christmas. Enjoy under the cut:

Another snippet for the FC5 Omegaverse WIP, with Silva trying to live her life in relative peace as a junior deputy and contributing member to society. And yet she can't even have that at a public barbecue when Eden's Gate crash it. Read below: [CW: Minor subtle discrimination in the context of Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, mostly towards Beta dynamics like Silva here (there's more in the full scene but here it's just like maybe once, or two if you count John ignoring Silva's obvious signs of 'leave me alone'. Also John harassing Silva, but what else is new]:

Silva really just wanted to fill up her plate with some nutritional food in peace and without an alpha poking his nose into her business for whatever reason.

She was unsure what his game was; could he be trying to determine if she was an omega? She understood that some omegas took a variation of suppressants that masked their scent as similar to betas, if only to deter certain alphas.

Although the suppressants were often effective, it didn't take much to discern the difference between an omega using suppressants and a regular beta. A beta's scent was far stronger than that of a suppressant's scent, though Silva guessed that wasn't common knowledge.

That or she had a better sense of smell than most betas. Which she didn't disqualify as an option.

"Invited by friends," Silva answered curtly, gesturing to where she saw her co-workers last, "Thought I'd socialize a bit."

His scent was throwing her off. Not because it was like an oregano herb, unlike the homely, comforting scent of basil and parsley that Paul had, but because he seemed familiar. Intrusive as well.

"Funny you should say that," the alpha, John, replied with a confident grin, "I've seen you avoiding more people than talking to them."

She glanced into his blue eyes; his smug glint irked her. She rolled her eyes as she replied, "That's because I'm done socializing."

She moved down, away from the alpha, and reached for the chicken ceasar salad to add to her plate; to compliment the chops that were already present. As she began topping it, her unwanted and persistent conversationalist filled the gap between them and asked, "So what is it you do around here?"

Silva's brows knitted together as she gave him an annoyed glance, stating, "I made it very clear I was done talking."

John chuckled, "No need to be so tart, my dear. Besides, I think you do want to talk."

Silva paused when she heard what he said; there was a tone within his words that rung sharply in her head, a growl that commanded obedience. To an omega, it'd be something to fear or respect; an effective deterrent towards refutes. To her though, it was something that grated at her nerves, like a man-child loudly demanding he get his way.

But it also sounded so damn familiar.

She looked at him with a burning glare that seemed to surprise him; like he hadn't prepared for his alpha voice to fail.

"I would be inclined to talk if I choose to," Silva asserted, adding, "And if you use that voice of yours on me again, you will regret it."

Despite the warning, John seemed more intrigued than anything else, putting on a friendly smile. Which bothered Silva immensely.

Her dissatisfaction only furthered when he replied, "My apologies. I wasn't too sure if you were actually a beta. I'm sure you're aware how omegas believe they have to hide themselves with your scents... a shame really."

Silva gazed at John with a stoic expression that contradicted with the bafflement she felt. One moment he was acting like a persistent sleaze and the next he's suddenly chummy with her after finding out that, yes, she is in fact, a beta.

She chose the last of her toppings for the chicken ceasar salad before walking away from him. Silva didn't grace him with a goodbye, just left him to fill up his plate.

However, in spite of this, he persisted in pestering her.

"Hold on now, you still haven't answered my question," he unhelpfully informed her as he followed after her.

Silva gripped the cutlery in her hand, repeating the mantra, It's illegal to kill a person without reasonable cause. It's illegal to kill a person without reasonable cause. It's illegal to kill-

It wasn't as helpful as she thought it would be.

[Silva to John, in some other AU probably: "In all timelines. In all possibilities. Only you... can show me how fucking annoying a person can be." If anyone understands this edited reference, I'll let you know I liked the season. Didn't love it, but it was still very good despite the high expectations]

Last Line for Word Of Woe, which is a WIP for Wednesday post-Season 1 set in the Life, Despair & Monsters series, where Wednesday Addams returns to Nevermore to unravel a new mystery; who the in the Nine Hells is bold enough to stalk her? Here she sees the introduction of Nevermore's new botany teacher:

When the teacher entered, Wednesday noted his appearance; he wore a dark blue suit that would have been better for a Gala than a school, with his dark hair and eyes, short stature, and the ridiculous Breton cap he adorned on his head didn't help her judgement of him. There was a skip in his step, with a jolly smile that sickened Wednesday.

He also held a cane in his hand, the handle like a bulbous doorknob. She wondered if he's ever caved in a skull with that.

However, her eyes narrowed when she realized something; she's seen him before. Earlier in the courtyard, playing what she presumed to be chess with a crowd of students around him and his opponent.

Moodboard for You Make My Heart Go Doki Doki Literature Club! is a WIP for DDLC, where Monika and her friends find themselves in the real world, with only Monika able to remember the things she did while in the game, and as a result the guilt too. She also gets used to actually living and while she does want to do just that, she can't help but notice a few... contradictions to her new reality.

And below is the first ever picrew of Silva Omar. It... certainly is a close encapsulation of how I picture Silva (second to her faceclaim Mina El Hammani). Although she usually has her hair done up in one braid tail that stays behind her. But this is as close as I could get to her hair undone. Here she is attempting to commit to the Christmas joy. Could either be celebrating at Elsa's lodge (which would explain the undone hair (plus the sweater) as Silva didn't do up her hair until after Persephone's death...) or at a co-workers home or something akin to that for a party (which would explain the false joy and tired look as Silva is generally like that because of her insomnia and night terrors plus putting up a front to hide her grief for this particular month... though post-Persephone's death, Silva would be spending her time alone at her residence because, well, this is the month her sister die and Christmas is literally Elsa's birthday so...). Anyway image below:

[franklyimissparis]

happy international women’s day to every woman who had to put up with the beatles on a daily basis alsjdkshdk. also to the original teenage fangirls of the 60s who brought the band to prominence yet were cut out of the music journalism/beatles historian sphere. and to the modern day women (especially queer women) fans of the beatles who continue to work at dismantling the narratives that cishet white male authors have been writing about since the 70s. you all are the best <33

[spacestation-l7]

*Hamish Linklater's voice* This episode of Bluey is called "Midnight Mass"

Featuring; Paul as a Dobermann and Hassan as a German Shepherd!

[backyardflames]

If anyone is enjoying the Carter and John-Paul thing, pop on over to Hollyoaks insta and vote in their story!

[oreolesbian]

i have… very mixed opinions on the potential casting for sam mendes’ beatles films

[got-ticket-to-ride]

1 and 20 for the asks! - muzak

Thank you so much for this ask @muzaktomyears <3

1. When did you start listening to The Beatles? For as long as I can remember because my mother used to play their songs (older hits). She had a tape which I then took by the time I was 13. It was a trip to then discover their stuff from 1966-1969 as an adult.

20. What’s your most controversial Beatles opinion? I answered this one before but I have many. It's always hard to voice these things out, hope nobody will find this one too bad... maybe me finding the Bed-Ins for Peace hypocritical. We are talking about war and poverty/hunger. And they stayed in 5 star hotels to promote the fight against it… marketing money than actually spending the money to give to people who need it. (I can understand the benefit concerts or gala though, but protest from your bed...)

Here is the link to the ask game :D

[myplasticadversary]

Was thinking about the girl Paul/boy John concept again with her being mostly gay and withholding sex to have control and him getting insecure and impatient, and I realize I've basically wound up recreating the plot to Norwegian Wood

[kittlyns]

Cosmetology continuing ed sucks so much cuz 99% of it is 2 misogynistic dudes sucking each others' dicks for the first 30 minutes, waxing poetic abt how cosmetology is actually the most important job in the world (unless you're a woman, in which case, kill yourself), and then the next 30 minutes is just one guy ooh-ing and ah-ing at what ends up being the most dogshit haircut by the other guy who's a multi-millionaire with 10 salons (he only employs women as assistants and he has multiple sexual harrassment complaints against him). And you have to do this for 8 hours every year.

[tavolgisvist]

Woke up with a lot of Paul's moons dancing to 'Distractions' in my head. My work can't help: they swim, spin and sway before my eyes and Paul's voice deadens the noise from outside.

Paul's moons, John's laugh and Yoko's words: I said, 'You're a good songwriter, it's not June with Spoon that you write.' So, I give up.

I’ll Be on My Way, 1959 (wirtten by Paul but on the BBC's record we hear John's lead vocal and Paul's harmony). Later John and Paul dismissed this song and kidding on it.

'That’s Paul, through and through. Doesn’t it sound like him? Tra la la la la [laughs]. Yeah, that’s Paul on the voids of driving through the country.' (John Lennon, 1980, All We Are Saying, David Sheff) and 'It’s a little bit too June-moon for me, but these were very early songs and they worked out quite well.' (Paul McCartney, Many Years From Now, Barry Miles)

But look: The sun is fading away That's the end of the day As the June light turns to moonlight I'll be on my way <…> They were right I was wrong True love didn't last long As the June light turns to moonlight I'll be on my way hey

It isn't one time story, apparently:

One day, you'll look To see I've gone For tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun

<...>

And now the time has come And so, my love, I must go And though I lose a friend In the end, you will know

(I'll Follow The Sun, 1959)

But we're looking for the moon - so go to Just Fun (1957):

They say our love is just fun* The day that our friendship begun There’s no blue moon that I can see There’s never been in history Because our love was just fun

*as it was in the original lyrics (and as Paul sings now), or 'They said our love was just fun' as Paul sings in 1969, during Get Back sessions

(and it leads us to others songs, where Paul say about who was/can be wrong, but we need only moons just now)

And if we suddenly remember what I’ll Be on My Way originally was 'a gentle guitar ballad', we can also remember another gentle song about the moon (early days, birds which 'flown from our nest' - sounds a bit like children leave their parents' home or maybe someone' songs elude their autors- and about some other things):

When the moon lays His head on a pillow And the stars settle Down for a rest, Just do me one small favour I beg you Please play me My baby's request

It's the song That we heard When we started. Now the bird have all Flown from our nest But you could bring back memories Departed by playing My baby's request

My baby said That she knows How it goes But you're the one That really knows So go ahead Just one more time and then We'll go to bed

Hmm play me baby's request Please play me my baby's request One more time

(Baby's Request from Back To The Egg, 1979)

Of course, it means nothing, only distractions, which 'like butterflies are buzzing 'round my head'.

[officialpenisenvy]

travelled to a different dimension to see if we're really friends in every universe but i ended up in a timeline where george harrison is serving life without parole for killing john and paul in 1969 so i got distracted by that and i forgot to check. sorry

[franklyimissparis]

happy (belated) mclennon monday, wrote some sad fic <33

based off of the youtube comment from this post

[peachetteprice]

I think I blacked out when I wrote this - CW; infidelity, miscarriage, squirting, oral sex... John Price being the biggest fucking DILF of a married man.

Everybody says John Price Dad's Best Friend, John Price Dad's Best Friend; SHUT THE FUCK UP.

John Price Husband's Best Friend?

-

It was a really a stroke of misfortune that you met Peter before John.

He was a nice enough man; he wore a tie to your first date, for God's sake, but he was, what some might call, rough around the edges. He laughed too loudly and finished it off with a piggish snort. He dribbled Kopparberg onto his torso when drunk. He was sloppy in bed. He never remembered your wedding anniversary, even though it was the same day as his own parents'. He always forgot to clean his beard hairs from the bathroom sink.

The town you forged your career in, and indeed the town you settled down in, was small, the lot of you cramped into townhouses up and down the street like mill workers, always seeing the same faces and saying 'lovely day, isn't it?' to the same few people.

Peter went wherever John did; it had been that way since they were 11 years old. You figured that out when you finally met the man, two months into your relationship, pregnant with Pete's son, when Pete followed him to the bathroom to talk motorbikes, whilst John had tried to ask how you were feeling all evening - you hadn't touched your pasta once. John came to your wedding - he was the photographer, in fact. He was right alongside you for the welcoming of your first child, your second, your third that never quite made it to birth, and you were there whilst his wife Linda had her first, her second, her miracle third. Lovely woman, Linda. A tad abrasive to the ears whenever she spoke, but lovely nonetheless - she held your hand as you delivered your stillborn when Paul was away in London and told you it simply wasn't meant to be.

Of course, that was the cruelty of the village life - everyone knew everyone, for better and for worse.

John accompanied Linda to every parents' evening and listened attentively when you explained that their third child, their son Owen, may possibly qualify for autism, and John held her as she sobbed and spit vitriol about it all being one big joke that the universe was pulling on her - the joke that she had three gorgeous, darling children with a man who bought her flowers and chocolates every time they had sex, whilst yours put a towel on the bedsheets for 'splatter' and a hand over your mouth when you were being 'annoyingly loud'.

Something changed when Peter crashed his 1987 Ducati and was hospitalised for three days. It was all a bit touch-and-go, really. He required a skin graft on his knee and a rod through his hip and a dozen injections that sent him right to sleep whenever he woke up and wanted to talk. John sat right beside you throughout the whole debacle. Each day. Every night. He rested his hand on your knee. He wiped the tears from your eyes. He hugged your shoulders.

Something certainly changed. Three weeks after his hospitalisation, Peter wished for a celebratory dinner. Everyone was invited. John, Linda, their three children, including little Owen, who sat in the corner with his tablet and played colour-matching games whilst the others scarpered around the house; Peter, you, your two children, Linda's friend Holly and her husband Ben, Rachel and Samuel. Everyone was invited, and they all wanted to play Scrabble at the end of a long evening, but you were never one for finding the right words.

"How are you?" John asked as he sat down on the sofa. It was just the two of you at that point.

No kids - they were cavorting about upstairs - no television, no phone conversation, no distractions, just the lamp on the little table emitting a warm glow against the hollow of his face, and four glass-fulls of red wine in both of your stomachs.

He had his arm around the rear of the sofa, elongated. His fingers could touch your hair, but he made sure not to let them.

"Fine, thanks." You smiled, and that was about it for the the sorts of conversations you found you had nowadays - Peter and Linda tended to have a lot more things to talk about between the four of you than you and John combined. Life had sucked the whimsy out of the both of you - you realised it when Linda was five months gone with her first.

Eleven years ago, that was.

There was a hoot in the background from Samuel - he just won Scrabble. Yahtzee, he posed for them to play, and they all readily agreed.

"How are you really, I mean?" John asked. He was closer, now, idling with his watered-down Scotch in hand.

On Tuesdays, there was the PTA at the school. The headmaster raved at there being a new curriculum scheme added to the roster, and you hardly had the time to get your head around it. There was swimming on a Wednesday from four until five, football on Thursday for your son from six until seven, Netball on Friday for your daughter from five until six. The kids needed their lunches packed daily but they didn't want ham sandwiches, cheese sandwiches or tuna sandwiches because they apparently didn't like ham sandwiches, cheese sandwiches or tuna sandwiches even though for the past 5-8 years all they'd eaten was ham sandwiches, cheese sandwiches and tuna sandwiches, so your son had chicken and lettuce and your daughter had egg mayo. Of course, the dog needed walking after work every evening and before work every morning, and Peter had decided he didn't want to walk the dog every evening and every morning so it was up to you to walk the dog every evening and every morning. You'd recently been tolerating a burning pain in your abdomen that the GP told you was probably not likely to be cancerous, but nonetheless had advised you not to rule it out as a possibility, and above all of that, you hadn't gotten over your third child in your third bedroom that stayed a nursery since the day he never came home.

Your voice wavered as you spoke. "Just busy, I suppose."

John smoothed a hand over your knee, and there it was again - that feeling of having lost something you never had in the first place. "Well, you look good for 'just busy'."

You surprised yourself when you laughed.

"How's Owen?" You probed - as his teacher, John couldn't keep quiet.

"Yeah, well, he'll get over his mum not loving him," he joked, but the sincerity wrought his usually jovial features to a stand-still. "God."

Silence was wonderful with John.

"Where did it all go wrong, hey?" He scoffed. It would have been a throwaway comment had it come from anyone else's mouth. "Three kids, a wife, and a thriving career. I should be bloody over the moon."

In truth, John had only found Linda because he was lonely at the sight of you and Peter. You knew that the moment he brought her out and paraded her around the bar, how awkwardly they kissed, and how he glanced at you as if to say 'look, I have one, too, now, now we're all happy'. She was a bright thing back then. Not so much, now. Sometimes, you wondered if he'd pay to have someone else - someone who'd love him the way he was meant to be loved.

John swirled his drink and drank a bit of it. Just a sip. And, right as you thought he was going to stand, he swept a hand round the back of your neck and kissed you tight. Then, he left without another word.

Since then, all John had done was steal.

When Peter went to the garage to show him the headlight of the Ducati he totalled, John took you on the sofa, sunk his hand into your panties, and got you off in a matter of minutes. He was all hot cum, sweat and fur, nothing half a man like Peter. Snogged you until you came undone and set you straight before Peter could ever know. At dinner parties, whenever he said he didn't have time for board games, you found him in the bathroom and he fucked you against the wall. You bit the flesh of his palm to stop yourself from screaming.

You palmed his cock beneath the dinner table when nobody was looking.

John bent you over in secret, forwards, backwards, twisted you sideways, claimed you from behind, let you ride him as you vented about your day, made you feel him in places you barely knew you had the nerves available there for feeling. He pumped you placidly until you squirted mid-weekend and warmed his face with your cunt in the evening, pulled you taught against his abdomen when you took his cock down your throat, and at the end, instead of chucking the towel into the wash and smothering you so you were quiet, he asked if you were alright, bought you flowers and chocolates, said he was sorry about the baby and promised to have you properly in the next life.

| Masterlist |

[menlove]

listened to what they're saying in the background and it gets worse bc he is literally doing exactly what yoko is 😭 bc it's:

John: When did you come in, Paul? Just then?

Paul: No, no, I was just looking at you.

John: Ah. So, anyway-

"I had a mic open. And I couldn't say anything 'cause I was just watching John. [Laughs] And now, Paul says that, uh- John says something and Paul says, 'No, no, I was just looking at you.' [Laughs] So- that's almost funny, 'cause that's what I was doing too."

Yoko Ono in her audio diary during sessions for Revolution 1 (x)

[danicattleya]

paul being very helpful and not distracting at all for his visually impaired bandmate

my present for @jamesbottle for the 2024 @beatleskinkmeme secret santa :^) happy holidays and new year!

based on the prompt (but i have taken creative liberties 🤓): “Paul starts getting annoyed when John begins wearing his glasses everywhere because it means he no longer has an excuse to hold/physically guide john from running into things. Perhaps he even tries to get rid of the glasses a couple of times.”