#Sour Milk Sea

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

March 1970, High Street, Leatherhead, Surrey, UK - Freddie Bulsara auditioned for Sour Milk Sea band, after seeing a ‘vocalist wanted’ in the ‘Melody Maker, Freddie accompanied by 'roadies' Roger Taylor and John Harris

Rob Tyrell recalls seeing him for the first time: “Freddie auditioned with us in a youth club in crypt of a church in Dorking. We were all blown away. He was very confident. I don’t think it was any great surprise to him when we offered him the job.” Jeremy Gallop agrees: “He had an immense amount of charisma, which is why we chose him. Although, we were actually spoilt for choice that day. Normally at auditions, you’d get four or five guys who were rubbish, but we had two other strong contenders. One was a black guy, who had the voice of God, but he didn’t have the looks of Fred, and the other person was Bridget St. John.

Chris Chesney: “I remember Freddie being really energetic and moving around a lot at the audition, coming up and flashing the mike at me during guitar solos. He was impressive. There was an immediate vibe. He had a great vocal range. He sang falsetto; nobody else had the bottle to do that. He said ‘Do your own songs and I’ll make up my own words’ It was very clever and very good.”

“When Freddie joined,” Chris continues, “We were on a roll. We were in the habit of playing two or three gigs a week and we continued to do so. I think we played down at the Temple in Lower Wardour Street with Freddie, the Oxford gig, and a few others.”

The Oxford gig was in the ballroom at the Randolph Hotel, one of the grandest in the city, “It was like a society-type bash, debs in frocks and all that,” recalls Chris. “I remember our sound wasn’t great.” Jeremy Gallop adds: “Freddie definitely managed to get what people were there in the palm of his hand, just by sheer aggression and his good looks. He was very posy, very camp, and quite vain. I remember him coming to my house and looking in the mirror, poking his long hair. He said ‘I look good today. Don’t you think Rubber?’ I thought, ‘Fuck Off!’ I was only eighteen at the time, and didn’t think it was funny, Now It’s hilarious.”

The only other gig featuring Freddie which the other members of Sour Milk Sea are certain about was a benefit for the homeless charity ‘Shelter’, staged at the Highfield Parish hall in Headington, Oxford, on 20th March 1970 – just weeks before Freddie teamed up with Brian May and Roger Taylor in a new group. “That was probably the last gig we played with him,” remarks Chris Chesney.

Surprisingly enough for such a low-key gig, just like Ibex’s Bolton show, Sour Milk Sea’s appearance at Headington, also made the local paper. This time it was the ‘Oxford Mail’ and incredibly, the paper also included a photograph of the group complete with Freddie – the only known shot to exist of him with Sour Milk Sea. Typically Freddie is the only one looking at the camera.

The article included an interview with the band on account of Chris Chesney’s parents being minor celebrities. It also remarked that vocalist Freddie Bulsara had only arrived ‘a couple of weeks ago’, and quoted form his song ‘Lover’. More importantly, as Chris told the paper at the time: “I don’t feel we are like any other group. Our approach is based on our relationships with one another.”

These relationships held much promise, but were fraught with danger, as Chris soon discovered. “I was staying with ‘Rubber’ at the time.” He recounts. “Then Freddie asked me to stay with him in Barnes. So I did, and we started songwriting together, getting into each other’s heads. His chords were kind of weird. They broke all the rules. F-Sharp minor to F back to A. That was totally new for me. I thought it was all very current and that we could blend our two approaches together.”

Chris continues: “We did two or three of Freddie’s songs. He had some material from the Ibex days, including ‘Lover’, ‘Blag’ and ‘FEWA’ He was good at lyrics and we wrote a couple of numbers, some big, operatic pieces. Operatic in the sense that they broke down into solo guitar parts, then built up again vocally. I can’t for the life of me remember what they were called. He also introduced weird covers like ‘Jailhouse Rock’. We’d never considered playing Elvis, or Little Richard’s ‘Lucille’. Then he had his little rock ‘n’ roll medley, which pushed the band into a showbiz direction, which I liked. He also had a lot of stagecraft going. I had a good relationship with Freddie and he liked the way I moved on stage. We were like Bowie and Ronson, where we related physically to each other on stage”.

No one in Ibex, Wreckage or Sour Milk Sea had suspected that Freddie was gay. Indeed Mike Bersin has pointed out; “Freddie had a girlfriend, Mary Austin at the time”. “Ambiguous sexuality was par for the course then.” Recalls Chris Chesney. “You didn’t question it. Anybody who did was totally unhip.” Chris and Freddie’s friendship was platonic, but close: “He wanted to style me, give me some clothes to wear, and the relationship between us got quite strong. ‘Rubber’ soon realised there was nothing in it for him.”

(➡️ source: http://www.queenpedia.com/index.php?title=Sour_Milk_Sea)

[harrisonarchive]

Photo by Bill Zygmant.

The Harrisong “Sour Milk Sea” was recorded by Jackie for his album Is This What You Want? (as George recalled in I Me Mine, the song was “really about meditation.... I used ‘Sour Milk Sea’ as the idea of — if you’re in the s***, don’t go around moaning about it: do something about it.”) Also while in California, 55 years ago… “Because he knows exactly what Jackie is after on his records, George is the ideal producer for him. They share a lot of feelings together and have this great musical sympathy as it were. George spent a lot of time with orchestras doing arrangements whenever these were necessary.” - Mal Evans, The Beatles Monthly, January 1969 “George was a champion. He made time for me and was protective even, inviting me to his home. I felt really privileged. It was incredible. To have my name associated with The Beatles – what better thing could happen to a budding artist?” - Jackie Lomax, Apple Records website After George’s passing, Jackie wrote and recorded the song “Friend-A-Mine” in his honor; it appears on The Ballad of Liverpool Slim. (x)

[plakatierenverboten]

Jackie Lomax: Sour Milk Sea (Show Pänggggg Video, 1968)

[mannytoodope]

Farrokh Bulsara (5 September 1946 – 24 November 1991), known professionally as Freddie Mercury, was a singer, songwriter, and record producer best known as the lead vocalist of the rock band Queen. He is known for his excellent four-octave vocal range and flamboyant persona on stage. Mercury wrote several hit songs for Queen, including “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “ Killer Queen, “Don’t Stop Me Now,” and” We Are the Champions.” He frequently collaborated with David Bowie and other artists. When he embarked on a solo career, he served as a producer and guest musician for other artists. He was posthumously awarded the Brit Award for Outstanding Contribution to British Music in 1992, and they held a tribute concert at Wembley Stadium. In 2001, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of Queen. He was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2003 and the UK Hall of Fame the following year. Freddie’s stage presences as a lead vocalist were extraordinary. He felt the music and never seemed to “ phone it in.” He is what a lead singer should or can be. He has left an impressive mark in a rock music family; peers and fans miss him.

[morethansalad]

Sweet and Sour Chickpeas with Broccolini and Coconut Rice (Vegan)

[neon-zipperooni]

we ball, assorted headcanons

when amber sugar cookie sees a flower to collect pollen and nectar from, his bee instincts kick in and he goes "bzzzzzz" and starts flying over there and nobody can stop him until he attains the nectar

for people matcha cookie cares for, she'll sometimes randomly appear at 3AM with gifts for them

pure vanilla cookie is trying to keep up with the youth's slang, much to the misfortune of anyone around him (bonus points if you hc pure vanilla and dark cacao as married like i do so dark cacao just dies a little on the inside every time his husband says the word "swag"), PV is also good friends with millennial tree cookie and the slang is starting to rub off on him too. oh no.

sea fairy cookie and moonlight cookie are the mothers of the five mermaid sisters as well as abyss monarch cookie, thus making stardust cookie an uncle

dino-sour cookie is trans (FtM) and when he came out sour belt IMMEDIATELY got to work sewing some masculine clothes for him

also pond dino cookie is dino-sour's adoptive child and i will die on this hill

shadow milk cookie hates jukebox musicals, but otherwise the man LOVES musicals and can and will break into a musical number while terrorizing people, despite being a twisted freaking cycle path whatever sane part of him is left wants to catch up on all the plays and musicals he missed while sealed away

if you throw down bird seed any of the birdlike or bird adjacent cookies (wind archer, blue slushy, red panna cotta, sugar swan, crowberry, stardust, golden cheese, smoked cheese, etc.) would feel the urge to fly/walk over and. peck peck the bird seed

dark choco cookie is touched starved and surprisingly easily flustered

milk cookie is very physically affectionate and gives really good hugs and is even MORE easily flustered (darkmilk is my roman empire)

twizzly gummy cookie took her band of misfits to the barbenheimer premiere

the beast cookies experience massive culture shock when they see the modern cookie world, it's like showing an iphone to your grandparents

okay mermaid's tale spoilers in this one kinda so look away if you haven't seen it yet and this one is more of a rejection of canon than a headcanon but the mermaid sisters, especially crimson coral, were NOT all like "well at least she got the strength she wanted to protect the seas now she'll be okay" they were utterly devastated at what white pearl cookie had become barely resembling the kind mermaid she once was, crimson coral sometimes contemplates swimming over there to see her again but she has to keep the other tearcrown residents safe (they didn't seem nearly as fazed as they should've been imo)

[jewelofgems]

Made all these in one go

[radiant-fanon-maker]

Family Headcanons

[glennmillerorchestra]

she annihilated this my jaw is on the floor. as if isn’t it a pity couldn’t get any better

[themotherofblood]

put it on me | d.t x reader x r.t | vampire au | bloody baby au

an: heyyy ya’ll missed me? had a tove lo song stuck in my head it’s talking body.

synopsis: baby knows she has been made to forget, she knows they are pretending to, everything is alright but is it?

warning: overconsumption of alcohol, compelling, argument.

You were dead sure something was off, like visually not a hair out of place but you just knew, like a nagging intuition burning holes into your stomach. Though it could have been the last shot oqf tequila you took.

They let you off the fucking island, it made no sense. What four months of playing a captured princess and out of nowhere “Go birdie go fly and be free.” something was off it was sour milk in your mouth. One could even say it was because you were touch deprived, but the more shocking detail to take note of was the lack of puncture marks in your body. This wasn’t some insecurity bullshit again, this was them hovering over you from the balconies watching you dance with you friends and not lifting a finger to feel you up.

Absurd isn't it?

Something happened, you can only feel it in your dreams, something deeply wrong— something that you were not supposed to see but you hadn't been compelled, at least you think you weren’t. You simply woke up in their bed three weeks and they’ve pretended like you would break from a single touch, and they watch you—constantly. When you eat, when you read on the lawn and sometimes you could swear they watch you sleep.

This uneasiness was tearing at you, were they done with you? Their own martial relations seemed to be a little too close, they always were but you never felt left out but now you did, you felt nervous even to walk up to Rhaenyra for a hug in the morning. And now this.

A taste of caged freedom. Freedom.

Who knew you'd grow so fond of the cage that housed you, a golden stone castle far from any life you’ve ever seen? Yet here you were now, at a cheap club your friends and you had graced every weekend after working on your thesis to chug fireballs and vodka.

Freedom? That's what the wanted you to feel, to help you transition back to your mortal life. Well then, a taste of it should have been fair for all. So you didn't hesitate after pulling another bill from your bra and ordering another round for your girlfriends. You loved them, you missed them, but right now your sense of celebration wasn't for them. As the bitter liquid burned at your throat, you shot daggers at the balconies again and disappeared into the crowd.

Deep in the sea of sweaty bodies jumping with no care in the world, thick into where the intentions of every one were similar, “We’re free game” You didn't care who touched you, just as way before when you didn't. You never know the person, hell you couldn't even make out their face from the lights but you felt the hands, the grinding.

It did feel freeing, compelled or not, you could do it— slip further into the crowd and just slip out of this dingy club. Disappear with the money and ID tucked into the lining of your bra, they won't find you. Strom City was far too vast to find a little scorned soul nearing the bottom of the bottle. You closed your eyes and just felt the music and the alcohol making you feel weightless, you lifted your hands into your hair to cook the back of your neck as you continued to sway, a stranger’s beer can pressed to the back of it. You smiled at your friends dancing, reaching for the coolers in one of their hands and took a big swig. You could feel the bile at the back of your throat, but you knew you'd been fine if you just kept dancing.

You could still feel hands on you and yet no faces, it wasn't until you turned that you could finally register faces— or well a face.

Daemon stood still amongst the dancing crowd, arms crossed and neck just slightly titled. Silently questioning as to the fuck were you up to.

You didn't stop, looking right at him you kept dancing when the beat dropped stealing the last of your friend’s drink. Hips swaying and still holding your wild hair so you don't overheat, you knew you were playing with fire. What's the worst that could happen? They’d drain you of all blood until there was no life left in you? You’d come to terms with that possibility months ago.

You could feel him nearing, shrugging off the mortal bodies coming in contact with him. You could hear your friends giggling as she reached for your hand and yanked you through the crowd.

“What the fuck were you thinking,” Daemon said, looking very visually irked as he sat comfortably on the hotel couch.

Rhaenyra had barely anything to say but she was angry, you could see it. A conflicted hurt. The rules were clear, they were crystal and you'd broken them.

You scoffed sipping on the glass of water you were forced to drink as you leaned against the bathroom door, still heeled and dizzy. You couldn't digest their discontent when they were ones playing games with you.

“We have very simple rule-”

“Oh fuck your rules!” you cut him off

“It's just bodies isn't it,” you said holding in a hiccup “We are just bodies.”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth but you raised your finger to stop her, stumbling of the bathroom door and walking to the middle of the room.

“How many? How many girls? How many men? I mean fuck!” you shook your head stumbling a bit.

They entertained your outburst, usually you were so placated that this was beyond the unusual.

“Don't you see, you've lived the two of you have each other, have been married for like a forever long time, and me. I'm twenty— human years mortal, simple-bodied.” you tap your head to see if they saw your point.

“I have barely loved, and now that I do—” you hiccup blinking your drunk tears away “its with two blood-sucking—” you stopped yourself laughing.

“I’m just a body to you that you use for fun.” you laugh, mascara tears coating your face.

Rhaenyra finally speaks “that is not true.”

You scoff once more, this time breaking the glass of water you'd been drinking against the bedstand “Turn me then.”

Daemon turned his face, looking out the window and Rhaenyra now stood shaking her head at you.

You could feel the glass imbedded into your palm, you raised the broken shard at her— lil quivering. “Turn me.”

“Turn me.” it sounds like a pathetic prayer.

This time Daemon turned to you, eyes narrowed staring at your bleeding palm, he looked at his wife. He knew this would have come to this conclusion, it always does.

You knew you’d die soon, whether it was to come back as one of them or dead for good. You’d made your peace with it a week before, pouring your heart out in the pages of your journal. Though what were you expecting, that the sex with you was that good that they’d have you around for a life time.

You served one purpose for them, to be their walking blood bag, a toy for them to use and dress as they pleased.

“Turn me.” you said once more.

This time Daemon pushed off the couch, he was in front of you within a blink of an eye, nostrils flared as he grabbed the back of your hair and yanked it back.

“You want to sell your soul that bad? You’d break even before it began sweet girl. The pain of the turn, but sure since you want it that bad.” he bit into the back of his hand and pressed it to your mouth.

The taste of bitter copper filled your mouth, it was true human blood tasted far sweeter, and you’d tasted it on their lips countless times. Your own blood.

“Daemon stop.” Rhaenyra said this time, approaching her husband.

He did not budge, still staring your soul down as he pulled the glass shard from your hand. He didn't hesitate to press it against your carotid artery, the faintest if pressure and he’d dig in. You bleed out and either come out as one of them or a feral— a demon of sorts. They wouldn't take that risk but Daemon was so done for it.

He knew the truth of what he’d compelled away from you, the attack, the threat that somebody was after them— he feared not for him or Rhaenyra but if they found you. He had thought of turning you a thousand times over, and so had Rhaenyra, though the possibility that you may not make the other side. Not many survive the pain, not many come out looking like their mortal bodies but mangled creatures from hell.

However Daemon had snapped, he grew irked from having to hide the truth, from having to pull away. True he had Rhaenyra to come to with his ails but she would sway him otherwise. Rhaenyra battled the guilt of nearly killing you for days, she still does and cannot touch you without remembering her teeth digging into your flesh. You may not remember it, but she had torn you within an inch of your life.

“Daemon we have to let her go.” Rhaenyra urged.

This time your eyes snapped to her and then back to Daemon.

“No turn me.” you urged, this time pushing yourself against the shard of glass “turn me.”

Daemon threw the shard away, shaking his head as he held your shoulders.

“No no, you're not leaving me.” the panic set into your body, death would have been easier. “Just turn me, I can do it.” you hiccuped.

Rhaenyra this time finally touched you, pulling you closer and embracing you, your senses were completely engulfed by her. The way she smelled, her touch, her hair.

You kept mumbling “no” incoherently as she sat you down on the bed.

Her eyes dilated as she shushed you, you looked at Daemon, his stern expression held pain to it if you looked close enough. He leaned against a wall. He knew Rhaenyra had to be the one to do this.

You felt no pain as Rhaenyra pulled the small pieces of glass from your hand, they were already healing because of Daemon’s blood.

“I’m so sorry my love,” she kissed your palms as she sat them back down onto your lap. “It isn't safe anymore.”

“Please don't,” you pouted, more tears flowing down your cheeks. “Don’t leave.”

“You were away on a vacation in the Summer. Isles, you needed a break. You won't remember us, anything about the past six months, it will be as though time stopped and brought you back to reality.” Rhaenyra whispered, kissing your forehead.

“Please.” you cried.

“The pain you feel now will be gone, we will be gone.” her eyes dilated one more as she shuffled your body back into the bed. “Go to sleep.”

Okie and that's a wrap!! I had so much fun writing this chapter, kinda poured my own breakup pain into it. Either way, I can't wait to start writing more!!

[sorrowsofsilence]

G E M I N I ⊹ ࣪ ˖

Pairings: Noah Sebastian!Davis Twins x ofc!Jude (really just a name, no description)

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: smut 18+ (threesome, fem!receiving, male!receiving, PnV pls wrap it b4 u tap it), twins (no twincest here, just both involved with 1 person), alcohol/weed use.

Summary: Why bother choosing, when both Davis twins are an option?

Authors note: I edited the pics above and below, feel free to use w/credit if you'd like! :) also this whole Davis twins idea was inspired by the martial art twins @thefallennightmare mentioned 🤭 (also, songs are Gemini by Del Water Gap, and Gemini by N i G H T S)

PS. THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

**

Identical twins; yet both are polar opposites.

Noah Davis; guitar/bass playing skater boy: Sweet, warm, delicate. The smell of milk and honey. The epitome of the sun’s warmth as I rest in the passenger seat of a car.

Sebastian Davis; party boy singer: charismatic, mysterious, unpredictable. The smell of petrichor and cologne. The epitome of my body hanging out the car window, wind running freely through my hair.

Perhaps it was fate I met them, the deities pulling the strings and leading me straight into chaos- or maybe it was just a strange coincidence.

A victim of chance.

“C’mon let’s get another shot.” Niamh’s voice was distant as she snaked far from my grasp through the crowd. As I was sucked further into the sea of people trying to catch up I couldn’t help but audibly groan. The smell of alcohol and sweat lingered in the air, my nose scrunching in distaste. I wasn’t nearly drunk enough for this scene yet.

Mumbling a string of sorry’s I pushed past various people, squeezing between bodies before finally reaching the counter, my best friend already downing two shots and asking the bartender for another.

I placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her toward me, shaking my head, “Girl, you’re going to regret that once it hits.”

The blonde laughed, leaning into me as she smiled at the bartender, pointing a thumb in my direction, “Two more please, tequila. For her.”

With a smile, I put my head on hers, “You got me there, my weakness.”

“Tequila?”

A new voice in my ear made me jump, turning quickly with a hand over my heart.

“Jesus-” I laughed nervously once I made eye contact with a grinning brunette, his long hair cascading down his face in delicate layers. The strobe lights danced off his features, highlighting his pointed nose and distinct jawline. He was stunning, my heart pointing from the jumpscare and his presence.

“That’s your weakness?” His voice was faint from the blaring music as he towered over me to hand the bartender a bill, “Two for me as well.”

I stared at his tanktop, the 1975 logo faded through various washes and uses, paired with a set of black skinny jeans with two holes in the knee. My eyes began grazing over his arms and neck, as he was adorned with tattoos. I tried to hide the warmth that rose to my cheeks.

The bartender slid the glasses over the counter I reached for one, “I am a fan of some blanco.”

An inked hand reached out as well, the long-haired brunette smiling down at me as he held the alcohol toward me, asking for cheers.

Our glasses touched before we tapped them simultaneously on the wooden counter before I tilted my head back, the smooth liquor running down my throat.

The boy leaned into my ear again, yelling over the music, “I’ve never seen you around before,” taking the empty cup from my hand he gave it to the bartender, “What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a place like this?”

I laughed as we both grabbed another, following the same ritual before I stuck the lime between my lips, the sour citrus tangy against my tongue, “Do you tell all the girls that?”

Looking over at Niamh she grinned ear to ear, eyes flicking between me and the stranger, “Well, I need to pee so, I’ll see you in a bit.”

That was her code for ‘I’m giving you space to talk to him’.

I shook my head quickly in protest, grabbing her arm but she slipped away quickly, leaving me behind at the counter.

“Nah, no one has been worth complimenting quite like you,” he admitted, turning to lean his back and elbows on the wood as he watched the dancing crowd.

I followed, turning to eye the swaying bodies as the bass shook my chest, feet vibrating against the floor, “Could just be the alcohol talking.”

I watched him chew the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his grin. He bent down again, warm breath fanning over my ear, “Then the alcohol speaks the absolute truth. You’re stunning.”

As my ears warmed I stood on my toes, leaning up to him to respond, “What’s your name, pretty boy?”

The way his lips spread into a cheeky smile made my heart pound, the red that tinted his nose barely visible due to the lack of light in the club, “Noah.”

Noah.

I held my hand out, “nice to meet you, Noah.”

His hand wrapped around mine and I couldn’t help but look down at the flower inked on the top alluring. His fingers were bare, but his grip was strong as he pulled me toward him.

“Pleasure is mine…”

“Jude,” I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ear in habit.

Noah chewed on his cheek again, watching me briefly before looking back at the bartender.

“I think we need another round, don’t you, Jude?”

Nodding, we took two more shots before Noah grabbed my wrist, tugging me into the crowd. I followed, letting him take me with him in drunken ambition, the music deafening and the lights blinding.

As we joined the group of swaying bodies my limbs heated as the world became fuzzy, my drunken state beginning to take over. His slim features made my stomach swirl with butterflies, the deep ocher eyes that tried to focus on mine captivating.

“You’re so cute,” I yelled, holding onto Noah’s shirt as his hands nervously touched my waist, afraid to go lower than my hips.

Perhaps he could help me forget.

Perhaps I could let go, just for one night.

“Really?” he smiled, his eyes joining in his expression as we moved in sync, the music leading our bodies naturally.

I nodded with the beat, limbs loose as I closed my eyes, hands reaching up to clasp behind Noah’s neck.

He lowered his body, forehead resting against mine. Gazing into the brunette’s eyes I watched him contemplate for a moment.

As his eyes closed he brushed his lips against my own, a test of my reaction and I bit back a smile, pushing upwards to copy him, the delicate skin warm and inviting.

Before Noah could react I pulled back gently, letting my hands slide down his arms, lingering at his fingertips as I stepped away, “I think I need another drink, care for something?”

He hid his disappointment with a slight grin and a nod before I moved toward the bar once again.

Something about Noah was immensely warm and inviting. I’ve known him all of fifteen minutes and I already want to run off into the forest to live in a cabin with him, reading books while he played with our shared labrador retriever.

I let my middle finger run over my lips in excitement as I grabbed us a rum and coke, turning around to head back into the crowd.

“Jude!” I turned my head to the vague of my name. Niamh was waving in the distance near the washrooms.

I walked toward her as she danced, mouth making playful kissy faces in my direction.

“OOh! Where’s the hottie?” She looked past me before holding her mouth open happily at my drink, reaching for it.

“This is for Noah,” I laughed, pulling it away from the blonde.

“No-Wuh,” Niamh slurred, continuing to dance even though the music was far quieter over here. Joining in my body swayed as I turned, looking down the hall toward the washrooms.

Once my eyes met his my heart stopped, just as if time slowed. My brows furrowed in confusion as my ears rang, my mind racing.

I stopped dancing as the short-haired brunette tilted his head to watch me, eyes trailing across my body suggestively.

Closing my eyes I shook my head before opening them again, the man leaning against the wall still there. Real.

I stood completely dumbfounded until my legs carried me down the hall toward him. Music dampened behind me, and Niamh didn’t call as she ran off onto the dance floor.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” He said, his voice eerily similar.

“I-” I began, squinting up at him, completely fixated on his features. He chuckled lowly as if he found my reaction humorous.

He looked just like him, yet not at all. His face was slightly wider, and the black t-shirt he wore was filled into his muscular frame, tight around his tattoos; tattoos that I’d seen before. The dark grey sweatpants he wore hung loosely at his hips, the white Nike’s resting on the wall he leaned on.

Hit attitude though? It was completely different.

“I was getting a drink…” The pathetic laugh that escaped my mouth made me shake my head again as I stared at him, not even hiding my fascination, “For you…”

“Couldn’t have been me,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a vape pen. Clicking the button he held it, bringing it to his lips and sucking, “I don’t drink.”

I blinked, watching as he blew the puff of smoke in my direction, the faint weed smell dissipating within seconds. His eyes were hooded as they flicked between me and the beverage.

“So how do you know my brother?”

Then it clicked. Twins.

I flipped my wrist with the glass in hand, pretending to look at the top of a watch, “hmm…met him about half an hour ago.”

He nodded with a snicker, running a hand through his strands. The brunette locks sat parted in the middle, the ends just past his ears in a messy wave.

He was hypnotizing.

“I’m Sebastian,” he stuck his hand in my direction, a strange sense of deja vu.

Sebastian’s fingers were tattooed, unlike Noah’s; and the callous of his palm touching my own sent shivers along my arm, my face warming for what felt like the hundredth time.

I told him my name, and he hid his smile as he took another puff of his pen, “You free in an hour?”

Taking a sip of my drink, I shrugged, “Depends.”

“On?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Where you wanna take me,” I chugged the liquid, holding Noah’s cup in the air, “I owe your brother a drink.”

Sebastian’s lips tugged into a sly smile as he looked down at his shoes, “I’ll see you around, Jude.”

₊⊹

“They’re playing a gig at the place next door,” I said to Niamh in the bathroom. Flicking my hair around I tucked one side behind my ear, taking a deep breath. Twins. Two extremely hot twins.

My reflection swayed in the mirror as the room wobbled with me. Leaning over the counter I stared at myself, wiping away the fallen mascara underneath my eyes.

Niamh adjusted her top, turning in the mirror to check her outfit, “Rockstars! And they’re Twins! This is so exciting J, maybe you can finally forget Dakotah-”

She covered her mouth with a shocked hand, eyes wide before her lids sunk shamefully, “I’m sorry. He who shall not be named.”

I gave her an empathetic look, “No stress Niv.”

She rested a forehead on my shoulder in defeat, “My own rule broken. SMH.”

I laughed, pushing her off me gently as I entwined our arms, pulling her out of the bathroom, “You could just, you know, shake your head instead.”

The grumble that left her throat made me chuckle again as we exited the club, the outside air fresh and free from the clasp of hormones we left behind.

“So they’re in a band? These twins?” Niamh asked as we stood outside for a moment longer, soaking in the cool breeze that caused my skin to crawl.

“Called Gemini, or something,” I said, folding my arms.

Gemini.

Once I saw them on stage together, I was completely infatuated.

“So here's the setting, we met fucked up at a wedding Shoulders back, throwing her hair, yeah She said, "It hasn't been pretty, stuck in a walk-up in Philly Ain't exactly feel like Paris, yeah"

Noah held a white bass in front of him as he rocked back and forth on stage, slim fingers picking at the strings. He smiled once he met my gaze in the crowd, and his lip fell between his teeth. The brunette threw his head forward, his long shaggy cut falling across his features like a veil.

“And she don't understand I get so distant And it ain't any comfort to know that she's sufferin' too And nothing she can write me makes a difference And it's all in my head but I wanna believe she'll be mine in a year, maybe two”

Sebastian held the mic between his inked hands, the stand placed between his legs as he moved to the melody. His eyes were closed in concentration before opening to mine, glazed with temptation. I moved to the music, enthralled by the thrill of both boys playing for an entire audience, yet both watching me as if their lives depended on it.

“I'll drop her a line when I'm feelin' like myself again 'Cause lately I ain't in the mood to pretend Gemini, when I'm feelin' like myself again Maybe I could be more than just a friend”

Ever since then they had consumed me, my mind captive to the thoughts of Noah and Sebastian for countless days, replaying how both of them devoured me with their eyes the second we met.

What was wrong with me?

Noah gave me his number after the show, his twin lingering in the background, eyes shifting between us and the ground.

A few days later he invited me over to their apartment, and I secretly hoped Sebastian would be there too.

I picked at my sleeves, the hoodie I wore suddenly feeling way too hot. As I hesitated to knock, the front door opened right before my knuckles touched the wood.

“What’s up Beautiful?” His facial hair had grown slightly, scruffy yet perfect. The beanie he wore left his hair flicking out from underneath, and the t-shirt he wore was baggy against his slim frame.

“Hey,” I gave him a warm smile, chest fluttering at the compliment. Stepping foot into their home, it smelled inviting, lemongrass verbena strong in the air.

Noah wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest with ease. As I felt his heart pounding below the fabric, my own began matching its pace.

There was no doubt I was falling for him, his mere presence made me giddy, filling with butterflies and elation.

“Want to watch a movie?”

The blankets scattered across the pull-out couch, and the two of us fell into the sheets comfortably.

The sound of the movie playing in the background was stagnant and monotonous, my focus on Noah’s hand as his fingers trailed down the skin of my waist, gripping the dip of my torso when he pulled me closer to his body, engulfed into his kiss.

His lips moved with mine slowly, the taste of mint subtle as his free hand caressing my cheek in a dance of devotion. The brunette’s long hair tickled my face as we lay there in each other’s embrace, longingly craving one another’s touch.

Our limbs entwined, legs wrapped around one another as I told him the silent story of my soul, his hands roaming down my thigh, pulling it up to his hip; as if I wasn’t close enough.

Sweet, warm, delicate.

The smell of milk and honey. The epitome of the sun’s warmth as I rest in the passenger seat of a car.

He was everything I wanted; everything I dreamed of.

Noah pulled away from our reverie, smiling as our noses brushed together, “Hungry?”

I nodded, my hands balling his shirt in my fists as I kissed him again, my lips tingling in adoration.

A chuckle vibrated from his chest as he pulled away again, fingernails reaching up my sweater, dragging across my skin lightly.

“Me too” He sucked in a breath, squeezing my side, “But I meant for pizza. I haven’t eaten all day.”

Noah left to pick up dinner, leaving me smiling as I sat on the couch, waiting for him to return.

As soon as the front door closed, a creak sounded from behind.

“Told you I’d see you around,” The voice was titillating as I whipped around, chest pounding with anxiety at his sudden appearance.

Did know what Noah and I were doing? Was he watching this whole time?

His hair messily hung from his forehead as he tucked his hands in his hoodie pocket, turning on his heel as he then led us up the stairs.

I felt my abdomen clench as he revealed his bedroom, the red LEDs intimidating. He sat on a chair in front of his computer, beckoning me over.

“Are you coming to the show on Friday?” Sebastian asked, clicking around a few files as he spoke.

Shaking my head I carefully watched him and he hummed in disappointment, “Shame, you’d think that Noah would’ve told you about it.”

“I can come if you want me to,” I shrugged and he reached for my wrist.

Sebastian tugged me down onto his lap, and I immediately tried to hide my face in my hands.

This felt wrong.

He handed me a set of headphones, clicking around on the computer, “I want your opinion on whether we perform this or not.”

He clicked on the file named Gemini, and the trap beat left my head nodding lightly. This already sounded completely different from the song I heard them play a few nights ago.

“Pick apart everything about ya Lying to me like a Gemini does Late at night makes me wanna sigh, yeah Dive into you every single night, yeah Every time it makes me wanna die, yeah Fucked you in the moment for the hype, yeah”

Holding the headphones against my ears I listened, watching the lyrics pop up on the screen. Sebastian’s hands held my hips firmly against his lap, making sure I was completely still.

My breath hitched once his hands slid down my thighs, running back up to my hips as the song went on.

“Love the way you taste, I'm fucking balling Making other plans I'm involved in Preying on your fears just like a lycan Hunting pussy everything single night, yeah”

I swallowed harshly reading the screen, and the way Sebastian revered my body made my stomach swirl.

“Love the way you miss me, make it rough, yeah Lust only pops in mysterious ways Sleepover, don't get invested Fall in love and then I pay her rent, yeah”

This was wrong.

But I didn’t want it to stop.

“Why are you showing me this?” I asked, his hands stopping on my inner thigh, my eyes watching him tease me.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you. You’re fucking divine.”

I was silent momentarily, unsure what to say at his confession. Noah made my heart flutter…but Sebastian made it race, “You don’t even know me.”

“Then I’d love to get to know your body's taste if you’d let me.”

Sebastian tugged at my pants, motioning for me to turn around and face him, to straddle his waist.

As I sat above him on his gaming chair he watched me from below, face subtle, afraid to give anything away. Yet pupils dilated in complete desire, exposing the short-haired brunette as his arms wrapped around my back, pulling me into a haste kiss.

His mouth was warm and rough, fingers clawing at my shirt in desperation as his tongue flicked my lower lip, translating unto me with greed.

His hands burned my skin, heat radiating off every inch of my body. Charismatic, mysterious, unpredictable.

The smell of petrichor and cologne.

The epitome of my body hanging out the car window, wind running freely through my hair.

He was everything I desired, everything I needed.

“This is bold of you considering I was here with your brother.”

Yet I completely gave in, my hands taking over for my heart and gripping his hair.

“I need you, Jude. Now.”

I let my hips roll into his, bodies rocking together for seconds; until the front door opened and Noah called out my name.

This game went on for months.

Both boys consumed me, both knowing that I was with the other.

They didn’t care- not until the hunger for both was no longer satiated.

I wanted each of them at once.

And they wanted me to choose.

“Selfish, to want us both,” Sebastian sunk in his chair, spinning back and forth slowly, a form of distraction.

Noah sat on his brother’s bed, watching me as I stood in the doorway, “You’re not going to choose, are you?”

The short-haired brunette chuckled lowly, hiding his suggestive smile, “Can’t just pick one.”

I looked between them, face warming, “You both want me.”

The twins looked at each other momentarily, almost as if communicating telepathically. Noah nodded.

“Tell us,” He tucked his hair behind his ears, looking up at me, “Tell us you want us. Both.”

“Say it,” Sebastian chimed in, his eyes menacing as he stared, determined to hear my admission.

“I- need you both.”

I’ve slept with each of them before, the contrast between the two night and day.

Noah whispered sweet words, taking me against every surface he could find as if claiming me for his own. He made me his, etching his being into my skin with every praise, every nickname.

Sebastian’s gaze held a million words, words he could never say; but with each thrust held my neck, pounding into my body with such proclamation and force that he told me his story. He shared his secrets.

They were the exact opposite of one another, but when put together, they made me whole.

“I want to be both of yours,” I whispered, Noah’s tongue buried between my legs as he sucked my skin, periodically licking long stripes along my arousal.

My breathing turned jagged as Sebastian kneeled on the side of the bed, kissing up my neck as his hands gripped my chest, worshiping my body with his fingertips. He dragged his mouth down to my collarbone, biting at the skin.

A moan left my body as I let my hand grip Noah’s hair, tugging him toward me as I rutted my hips against his tongue desperately.

I grabbed Sebastian’s arm, whispering toward him, “I want your cock in my mouth.”

He loved being wanted. He desired to be needed.

Sebastian stood up, rubbing his hand along his arousal over his sweatpants. Taking mine he placed it on top, sighing at the contact.

“Feel this?” With his hand on mine, he moved me along his erection slowly, “All for you baby girl.”

“Pretty boy,” I whispered, tugging at his pants. He freed himself, looking down at me with hooded lids and smiling at the praise.

Sticking out my tongue he slapped it with his desire, then let me wrap my lips around him. I sucked, swirling saliva around the tip; just as I learned he liked.

It started slow, with me moving my head along Sebastian as Noah ate me out, making my legs shake and squeeze around his face as I reached the edge, orgasm taking over my nerves.

Sebastian then leaned over the bed, free hand gripping my hair to hold me in place, shoving his cock down my throat with slow thrusts.

“Fuck, just like that baby.”

I gagged on him, taking his offering as Noah pulled his mouth away, kissing up my stomach delicately.

I watched him as his twin filled my mouth, feeling dirty and lascivious as Noah placed himself at my core, running his erection through my folds.

My brows furrowed as I bucked my hips toward him in greed and he shook his head, holding my abdomen down with a firm hand.

Noah’s hair hung over his face as he watched himself tease me, rubbing along my desire, “Hmm, you’re not very patient, are you?”

His words made me moan in protest, leaving Sebastian to groan from the vibration.

I cried, mouth sliding off of Sebastian as he reached down to rub my clit while Noah thrust into me with haste, his hips rapidly rolling.

Noah’s grip around my ankles tightened as he held me for support, flicking between our story and my eyes, smiling at me, “This what you wanted princess? Both of us at the same time?”

I squeezed my eyes shut in reverence as my body shook with every thrust, nodding.

“That’s our good girl, ”Noah groaned, tilting his head back before pulling out, switching places with his brother.

Sebastian then flipped me over, pulling me by my hips to slide my ass into the air, exposing me.

“Oh, fuck,” He whispered, bending down to lick up my body in hunger, before plunging into me.

With one hand he held my thigh, the other pushing my head into the bed. Each thrust sent a wave of pleasure through my body. His slow and staggered rhythm left my body clenching around him, crying with each connection his hips made to mine.

Noah slid onto the bed underneath me, abdomen by my mouth as he lowered my lips onto his body. As he leaned back into the pillows, the taste of us lingering along his cock made my stomach churn with adoration. Gripping the base and licking along his skin I groaned, Sebastian’s powerful grip enthralling, pushing a second orgasm.

“Shit,” Noah’s hand was gentle as he guided my mouth, soft pants leaving him as he twitched, his release coating my throat.

I swallowed everything he offered, afraid to waste a single drop.

His chest he smiled, hand reaching down to hold my face.

Noah’s thumb caressed my bottom lip with approval, and he bent down to kiss my forehead.

My body rocked with Sebastian as he clawed down my back, Noah sliding beneath me again to kiss me, mouth open and tongues pressing against one another.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” Sebastian growled, his pace quickening as nails dug into my hips. A string of curses escaped him as he reached his orgasm, releasing inside of me.

I was his. I was Noah’s. I was theirs.

And they were mine.

“We could fuck you all day long,” Noah smiled, ghosting his lips across mine in prayer.

The room was filled with heavy pants as I moved to lay beneath Noah’s arm. Sebastian joined, resting his head on my stomach, wrapping his arm across my waist protectively.

“Who’s saying that can’t happen?” I suggested, and Sebastian’s deep laugh made me squeeze my legs together, his hand trailing back down my thighs in temptation.

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies

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[r-riri]

'if i could get out of this place' - red haired shanks

(credits to @strangergraphics-archive for the divider)

word count 1,496

fluff mixed with angst

the glistering water reflected the deepest shames a pirate could have. they sparkled and shimmered with warmth and comfort like a siren begging the man to join her. though he couldn't, he made an oath to his crew, his friends, his chosen family.

this is how she felt staying behind on the ship whilst the men on board disbanded and explored the island that claimed to be the best makers of the richest rum. y/n had no interest in silly rum that could ease her stresses, no, y/n was a woman at heart in a ship of men so instead of drinking her sorrows she looked them dead on with a clear mind.

y/n peered over the sturdy railing into the depths of the shallow water, studying the small fish who wondered under the surface. y/n felt a pit grow in her stomach not at the water but it was a twisting feeling shes only ever felt once during her whole life. that one time was the desperation of begging Gold D. Roger to let her join his crew so she could learn under the greatest pirate known to man. that desperation and willingness to do anything needed to ensure that y/n got the one thing that she believed made her heart pound.

so why was she feeling that again? Nonetheless why was she feeling it while staring at the small yellow fish swimming ignorantly though the warm water that welcomed the fish with encouraging arms. why did she feel sickly at the though of this fish.

"ive happen to grow to like you so you better not jump" a cunningly smooth voice said from behind her, she glanced over her shoulder having gotten used to the men on this ship trying to take the chance at scaring y/n.

"shanks? why am i not surprised" she smirked seeing his laid smile that was strung along his lips like god himself took the time to craft his face until he deemed it was perfection.

shanks trotted the space between them and laid his torso over y/ns back leaning all his weight onto her "omg you disgusting man get your unwashed self off me" y/n laughed between her words wilfully ignoring the heavily deepening feeling down in the pits of her stomach that grew bigger the longer she stayed

"carry me woman" he groaned into y/n's neck to which her eyes rolled in amusement before shrugging him off and he crashed to the ground wheezing, y/n stepped on his torso and over him away from the railing "why must my true love wound me so" he coughed

y/n snickered but never responded and walked into the dinning room in search for a glass of water to maybe drown the green feeling growing inside my body, that grew like a fungal infection.

y/n downed a glass of water but felt the same feeling clutch her lungs squeezing them tightly with desperation to be acknowledged. y/n rubbed their eyes hoping that maybe she may have caught a cold and thats why she may be feeling ill, though deep down she knew exactly what she was feeling, she knew the cause and she knew the solution to what would make this feeling dissipate.

y/n left the kitchen seeing the deck empty, shanks must have left to god knows where, instead she beelined to her own quarters, it may have been small and compacted in comparison to the mens roomy quarters but at least it didn't stink as if 10 dead bodies died in soured milk. instead the compact room laid pictures of people she once met, the memories of the girl and her old life the one she yearns- no no, y/n does not yearn for that life, she is happy sailing the seas, she loves the people. yes she makes comments that they stink, but these people chose her for their family.

even if y/n is happy the books that laid open with messy handwriting of different words that can only exist in the scapes of her mind, the words written were once poisoned with heartbreak and wishing now strung into beauty of the lives she writes for people she can only imagine herself in.

y/n sat on the neatly dressed bed that fit the facade that y/n put on herself each day pretending to not yearn for a life where she could see her name highlighted positively about the books she yearns to be writing and and the stories she yearns to tell to the children who grew the way she did but never got the chance to explain.

y/n pulled out a small grey box from under her bed and uncapped the box revealing 4 letters with four different names written in a neat font from a fancy feathered ink pen,

shanks buggy roger Rayleigh

the four people that she held close during her time upon this ship, each letter contain a scripture about her love and adoration for each of them uniquely dictated to each person and their individual tendencies.

she grabbed a small bag and stuffed it with her brimming books and small nicknacks that she kept from people who gift them to her and laid the letters along the dressed bed and made her escape.

she disembarked from the boat and walked along the coast of the island searching for a unmanned boat to use to leave her second life behind and as she found a small rowboat unmanned she boarded it and soon she sat there writing the end of her book that she lived with her favourite family.

as the sun hid from the people and the moon stood proudly in its place shanks roamed the ship looking for y/n, he had news to tell her, he needed to have a discussion with her but he failed to find her, finally he ventured into unknown territory and he stepped into her room and laid small letters with names, he grasped his letter and he ripped it opened hastily,

he stood there after reading the letter and felt a droplet down his cheek, cold and wet, it was a singular tear, shanks gripped the letter and left the room running off the ship and screamed her name until his voice was bare and dry

that was the day shanks lost someone he deemed to be important to him.

25 years later

y/n laughed as she sighed a copy of 'love lost' a book that she wrote 7 years ago, she smiled at the girl who raved about the book and how it helped her though a moment in her life.

"thanks kid" y/n smiled kindly as she handed the book to the girl again and gave her a hug as the girl asked for "this book meant a lot to me when i first wrote it so i'm glad it helped you" y/n smiled as she slowly bid her goodbyes and left the area and walked along the uneven cobble stone she admired the stone work of this small island that invited me to do a book signing.

"so this is where you've been hiding" a voice cold as ice rang though her ears, this voice shot y/n through the heart as she recognised the owner of the voice, she felt her throat close up at the fear of being confronted of a character from her past life as a pirate, the irony of 25 years ago she had been admiring (more like loathing the freedom of a fish) when shanks approached her. now 25 years later she was admiring stone work when shanks again approached her.

"now you wont even turn to look at me" shanks mused trotting the fine line between the two people "you left without even a goodbye y/n, a letter? a letter was all that had been left in your wake" he leaned down to her level to which y/n finally glanced behind and looked at his missing arm

"see you've made changes" she attempted to joke to which he leaned back

"and you've become an author" he countered back at her "see we've both changed"

"shanks i'm sorry but i had to leave, if i ever left it would have eaten me alive, i'm sure i would have been a author if only i had left that place, and i left and now look at me. i've written 3 books and 2 miniseries' i did what i dreamed to do" y/n explained in a melancholy tonal voice

y/n watched shanks nod "you did what you needed to do, buggy cried his eyes out the crook" he shrugged as if he wasn't also affected "i'm glad your'e smiling the same way you did back then" he wrapped his arm around her "big nerd" he teased

she smiled "stinker" she teased back

taglist - @flusteredmoonn

[hellinistical]

fem! reader x rafayel. royal! au. sea horror! au. heavy angst. minor and major character death. slow burn. romance. fluff. explicit smut. trauma. religious themes. gore; hinted torture, cannibalism, decapitation, self-cannibalism. violence. wc: 4796 | status: on-going

masterlist | playlist | taglist | prev. | next.

II: GOLD STRUCK

The wagon wheels were obviously wobbly, the axles needing immediate tightening, not that anyone would care to repair them, though. The rainy season was in full effect, and the roads were the sky’s first victim. A dog chased after a squirrel, it’s barking annoying the merchant nearby. He cursed the dog and his bloodline. 

“To hell with Linkon! To hell with this damned town!” His broom thwacked at the wood sign on his stall. “When I catch you, you damned dog, why, you’ll be roasted with your litter!”

“Oh Mr. Heggins, relax! It’s just a dog!” “Just a dog? Why you- you let him out, didn’t you, Caleb? I should get you fired from the mines for this!”

Caleb laughed, crow's feet forming by his eyes as he smiled big. His hands held orchids. He had picked them from his mother's garden earlier that morning, meticulously picking the best ones without her knowing. In his pocket, a small box rested.

Mr. Heggins eyes note the flowers and the small lump in his pocket. 

“Today's the day, eh?”

Caleb nodded, his cheeks tinging with red. 

“Yes, sir. I plan to ask tonight.”

“Ah, before the king's carriages come? Bad timing, no?”

“No, sir.”

It's quiet for a moment before the old man speaks up. 

“And out of everyone you could have, you chose the L/n's daughter.” He lets out a pitiful chuckle. “I won't question it, but to each their own.” 

As the old man walked off, Caleb hummed, his hand going to his pocket, patting it affectionately as he walked on through the streets.

He grabbed some pumpkin bread, the honey, and roasted almonds on it making it smell heavenly. 

He collected some gifts. A doll, a kite, perfumes, and a watch. 

And then he headed off towards Linkon's hill village. 

*** Hot water splashed onto the weathered wood floorboards, the basin full to the brim. Sprigs of lavender, rosemary, and orange slices floated on the water, and Mrs. L/n poured fresh milk into the tub. 

“Is this really necessary?” Y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not getting in there- I won’t even be selected.” “Yes, you are. And I’m tired of you not listening to me.” “Mother- owowowowowowow!” 

The older woman grabbed her ear, pinching it lightly as she pulled her daughter towards the tub. Y/n held onto the wall, protesting. “I’m not going in there you; put milk in there! It’ll feel weird!” “Take the damn bath, child! Eva! Call your sisters and come here!”

“Coming, Mother!”

In moments, Y/n’s sisters came into the room. Eva smiled cheekily. “Today’s the day~!” “Like hell it is.” She shot back, wriggling in her mother’s grip. “You all act like you want me to get picked! Does Gran even know what you’re doing? Ma?” Her mother looked away, her hands going to the clasp on the back of Y/n’s dress. She undid it quickly, and the fabric pooled at her feet, ignoring her question.

“Strip out of your garments- Gods, you reek- is this wool? Y/n! You messed with the sheep again!” “I did not! I was with the ram- hey!” She placed her hand on the back of her head, the sting from her mother’s popping strong.

Lucy laughed, her chubby hands taking the stripped clothes to the wash.

“You’ve all gone mad. I hope you know that.” It comes out as a grumble, but she goes into the tub. But as soon as she stepped in, she complained. “The water’s freezing!” “That’s what you get for talking so long.” Her mother quipped. Her face sours as an orange slice touches her knee.

Raising her leg, Eva takes it, scrubbing it down as her mother starts to work on her hair. She hisses, her scalp tender as it gets scrubbed as well. 

“The weather is lovely, isn’t it?” “Just dandy.”

“What time is it?” “Half after 12, mother.” “Lord! We need to hurry then.” “Did you always have such a strawberry complexion, sister?” Y/n kicks water at her sister. “Quiet, you-”

She’s interrupted by her mother pouring a bucket of water over her head. Her hair gets thrown in her face, and she swallows some soapy, milky water, sputtering and coughing.

“Both of you, quiet. I’ll be damned if our good name is tarnished because you both decide to act like Neanderthals.

Y/n coughed out some more water. “I think calling me a Neanderthal isn’t fair- but Eva on the other hand- Oh my fucki- can you stop getting soap in my eyes?!”

“Language!”

***

Y/n shivers as she steps out of the basin, her arms crossed, knees turned, and locked. 

Some of the rosemary was tangled in her hair, but she paid it no mind.

Wrapping a towel around her body, Eva grabbed a comb, getting to work on untangling the knots and rosemary in her hair.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You would still get picked if you were covered in cow shit, so cease your bitching,” her mother shot back, not missing a beat as she scrubbed her daughter’s hair with renewed vigor.

Y/n's mouth dropped open, and she groaned. “You’re impossible!”

But her mother only raised an eyebrow. “And yet, here you are, complaining like always.”

Lucy waddled into the room, her small arms bundled up with a light blue chemise gown, the fabric soft and worn from years of storage. The short sleeves were cuffed, and though the dress had once been elegant, it was now out of date- the gaudy stitching showing the era it was from. Y/n’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what Lucy was holding.

“You can’t seriously expect me to—” Y/n began, her voice rising in protest.

But before she could finish, her mother yanked the towel off her body with practiced efficiency. “Of course not,” Mrs. L/n replied, her tone calm and unwavering. “Not until you’ve been plucked.”

Eva stepped forward, smirking as she handed her mother a razor, her grin mischievous. Y/n stared at it, her lips parting in disbelief. “Oh, come on...”

Mrs. L/n motioned for the sisters to leave. Eva, Lucy, and the others filed out, whispering and giggling amongst themselves as they shut the door behind them, leaving the room unusually still. The bright daylight streaming through the window seemed too cheerful for what was about to happen.

Y/n sighed heavily and sat on the small stool, arms wrapped around herself in half-hearted defiance. Her mother wordlessly knelt beside her, taking the razor and beginning the task of smoothing over her skin with slow, deliberate strokes.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the quiet scrape of the blade against her skin, the soft splash of water, and the occasional sigh from Y/n. It was a silence filled with things left unsaid, the weight of what was coming pressing on both of them.

Y/n looked down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on the towel. "I still don't think this is going to work. They'll want someone else," she murmured, not meeting her mother's eyes.

Her mother didn't respond immediately, her hands steady as she worked. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than before. "It’s not about what they want, Y/n. It’s about what you’re worth. Remember, the better you do, the better we all do."

“Why do you want me to get picked so badly?” Y/n asked quietly, her voice trembling despite her attempts to sound nonchalant. “You know I’ll mess up.”

Mrs. L/n paused mid-stroke, her hands hovering for a moment before continuing, the razor gently gliding over her daughter's skin. She didn't meet Y/n’s gaze, but her words were firm.

“I don’t want you to go. What gave you that idea?”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the blunt response. Her throat tightened, but she said nothing, the silence suddenly heavy between them. 

Her mother’s eyes were fixed on her task, but the strain in her voice betrayed her emotions. “You think I want to see you paraded around like livestock? Gods know I don’t.” She set the razor aside for a moment, finally looking up at Y/n. “But if you’re chosen… at least you’ll be safe.”

Y/n swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. For once, she had no sharp retort.

"...They'll smell the farm on me," Y/n tried to joke, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "And it's not like the town doesn't have a reputation for me."

Mrs. L/n froze, her brow furrowing before she snapped, "Y/n M/n L/n. You will stop talking this instant!" She threw her hands up in exasperation, the razor clattering against the basin. “Ugh, by the Gods, you will jinx yourself, and no amount of rosemary will be able to fix it!”

Y/n bit her lip, stifling a laugh despite the tension in the air. She knew her mother meant well, but the whole situation still felt so surreal—so out of place for someone like her.

There was a knock on the door. Y/n's head snapped toward it, her brows knitting in confusion. Her father’s voice called through the wooden frame, calm and warm as always. 

“The boy is here, my loves.”

Y/n frowned. "Caleb? What’s he doing here?"

Mrs. L/n didn’t answer, her focus entirely on finishing the task at hand. She ignored Y/n’s questioning gaze and continued to move the razor carefully, finishing her legs before working up to her cunt.

"Never mind that," her mother finally said, her tone clipped. "We need to finish."

She turned toward the door, calling out in her usual brisk, commanding voice, “There’s a roast in the oven! Check it for me, please!”

“Aye, I will,” her father replied, the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Y/n slouched slightly on the stool, still puzzled. “He does know today is the collection, right?” Y/n asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

“Perhaps he’s wishing to bid you good luck. But it will have to wait,” her mother replied, still focused on her work.

“Oh.”

Y/n sighed, the thought lingering in her mind. It made sense enough. They had talked about their plans—what they would do if she didn’t get picked. Caleb would take his father’s horse, and they’d ride out of Linkon together. A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the silly memory of him telling her the same thing every year. 

But she hadn’t seen him lately; he was always busy with family matters, tending to the farm, or preparing for whatever life awaited him. 

Once Y/n was dressed, she stood stiffly, adjusting the light blue gown that felt foreign against her skin. “I can feel every stitch, Mama.”

“It’s because your skin’s bare. It’s a good feeling. A good thing,” her mother replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

“I’ll get cold easier.”

“Oh please. You weren’t even furry,” her mother teased.

Y/n let out an unexpected laugh, the tension breaking for just a moment. But then the door swung open, and her father stepped in, whistling a cheerful tune.

“There she is. My darlings!” He kissed his wife and then pressed a warm kiss to Y/n’s cheek. He pauses. “You smell like the farm.”

Y/n shot a look at her mother. “Told you so.”

“He's messing with you,” her mother said, rolling her eyes.

Just then, Caleb ducked his head under the doorframe, a bright smile on his face. “Good evening, Mrs. L/n. I’ve brought gifts.”

“Gifts? You shouldn’t have!” her mother exclaimed, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“I wanted to,” Caleb said, his tone sincere.

“Oh, you sweet boy. Come, let’s go talk.” Mrs. L/n took Caleb’s hand, pulling him out of the washroom. 

As their eyes met, Caleb’s purple gaze sparkled with a kind of mischief that made Y/n’s heart race. She felt her cheeks heat up but managed to wave, a shy smile breaking through her earlier worries.

Once they left, Y/n found herself alone with her father in the warm, sunlit room. The air was thick with the lingering scents of lavender and rosemary, remnants of her mother’s frantic preparations. Mr. L/n glanced out the door, ensuring it was securely closed before turning to face her, his expression suddenly serious.

“Are you nervous, child?” he asked, his voice low and steady, a contrast to the bustling energy that had just filled the space.

“Nervous?” Y/n echoed, furrowing her brow in confusion. “About today?”

“Hm... no, can’t say I am.” She crossed her arms, trying to project confidence, but the truth was a tangle of emotions lay beneath her surface.

He studied her for a moment, the lines on his face deepening with concern. “You’re a horrible liar. That’s my fault. Should have taught you better.”

“Papa—”

“Listen. You’re no fool. You’ve got a good head on you,” he said, placing a hand on his chin, his thumb tracing the stubble there as he exhaled slowly, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like a storm cloud.

Y/n felt a knot tighten in her stomach, her heart racing as he continued. “That boy is going to propose. And you need to accept.”

Her eyes widened in shock, disbelief flashing across her face. “Huh?”

“That's how you don’t get picked,” he insisted, his tone firm yet gentle, as if trying to shield her from the harsh realities of their world.

“But—”

“Listen to me, child. You need to accept—today. Before it’s too late. Once you’re engaged, they can’t collect you.” 

“To Caleb?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and uncertainty. The idea danced in her mind like a flickering flame, both enticing and frightening. Would it truly save her? 

“Yes!” he affirmed, leaning closer, his eyes locking onto hers with a fervent intensity. “You think we have luck when it comes to this sort of thing? We don’t,” Mr. L/n continued, his voice lowering even further as he leaned closer. “We should have married you to him months ago, but there was never an opportunity. We have the papers. You just need to have some witnesses—”

“You cheated the system?!” Y/n whisper-yelled, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and indignation.

“Of course I did!” he replied, a hint of pride breaking through his urgency. “I did it to protect you. You have no idea what they do to the girls they collect. We have to outsmart them.”

“I can’t marry Caleb! Are you crazy? I don’t even want to get married—” Y/n protested, her voice rising in disbelief.

“This isn’t about what you want! You love the boy; he loves you!” Mr. L/n countered, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“Yeah, but—” she started, her mind racing as she tried to find the right words.

“Listen to me,” he urged, his voice softening as he stepped closer. “This is about survival. The kingdom doesn’t care about your dreams or desires; they only see you as another name on a list. But if you’re engaged, they can’t touch you.”

Y/n took a deep breath, the reality of her situation weighing heavily on her chest. “What if Caleb doesn’t want this? What if he thinks I’m just using him?”

“Caleb knows—he's been helping orchestrate this!” Mr. L/n interjected, a mix of urgency and relief washing over him.

Y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What do you mean he knows? How could you—?”

“I spoke to him. He understands the situation, Y/n. He’s been looking out for you, and he wants to keep you safe.” Her father’s voice softened, but the intensity of his words remained.

“Caleb is in on this?” she asked, her mind racing. The idea that Caleb had been part of this plan, that he had considered her fate alongside his own, sent her heart racing.

“Yes! He cares for you deeply, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect you,” Mr. L/n explained, a hint of pride- and something else- in his voice.

She closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning Caleb’s kind smile and the playful banter they shared. Could he really be ready for something so serious? The thought of it both terrified and thrilled her. 

***

Caleb sat in the dingy dining room of the L/n household, his hand absently resting in his pocket. The scent of roasted meat wafted through the air, mingling with the musty smell of the worn furniture. Truthfully, the L/n farmland was rich and fruitful, bursting with potential, but the home itself felt shabby and neglected.

“Once we’re married, I can fix this place up…” he mumbled to himself, envisioning the changes he could make. The walls painted fresh, new furniture, perhaps even a small garden where Y/n could grow flowers. His heart swelled at the thought.

In the corner of the room, her sisters and mother were clustered together, giggling and gushing over the gifts he had brought—colorful ribbons, handmade trinkets, and sweets. Their excitement filled the air, but Caleb was lost in his own thoughts, barely noticing their chatter.

It wasn’t until Y/n emerged from the washroom, her father beside her, that he realized she was near. His heart skipped a beat as she stepped into the room, her vibrant orange hair catching the light. She looked radiant, even in the simple gown she wore, and a smile spread across his face as their eyes met.

“Good evenin', Y/n,” he greeted, warmth flooding his voice. “You look lovely.” 

Y/n’s cheeks flushed as she returned his smile, but there was an uncertainty in her gaze that made him wonder what was going through her mind. He wanted to ask about the selection ceremony, about her feelings, but for now, he simply stood there, hoping the moment would allow for the words to come.

“Er, hello, Caleb,” Y/n replied, her voice slightly shaky but warm.

He chuckled, a playful glint in his purple eyes. “You look like a strawberry.”

Eva snorted from the corner, unable to stifle her laughter. Y/n cleared her throat, determined to hold her ground. “Yes, well, thank you. They’re in season.”

“Are they now?” Caleb’s tone was teasing, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile despite the slight embarrassment. Strawberries weren’t in season, but he enjoyed the banter.

“They are,” she insisted, a spark lighting up her eyes.

“Then I trust you know where the ripe one is?” His gaze was warm, his smile contagious.

Y/n felt her cheeks flush deeper, but before she could respond, he gently took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. The touch sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. Together, they walked out of the house, the chatter of her family fading behind them.

As they stepped into the sunlit yard, the gentle breeze carried the scent of the sea, mingling with the earthy aromas of the farm. Caleb turned to her, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I’ve been thinking about what’s happening today…”

Y/n’s heart raced. She knew this was the moment to speak up, to share her fears and her father’s plan. But for now, she let the warmth of his hand and the softness of the afternoon settle around them, hoping to find the right words as they moved further from the house and deeper into the lush fields.

“Listen... I wanna marry you—” Caleb began, his tone earnest.

“Yes,” Y/n interrupted, her heart racing.

“What?” His expression shifted, surprise flashing across his face.

“Yes! I’ll marry you,” she declared, her excitement bubbling over.

“Let me finish,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly.

Y/n looked at him, confusion evident in her eyes.

Caleb’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. “Y/n. Don’t get me wrong. You’re a beautiful woman. And we’re good friends. But really, it’d be more of an exchange. I’ll marry you. But I want your father’s farm.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” he pressed, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. “If we’re going to make this work, we need to secure the land. The L/n farm is rich, and with your hand in marriage, I’d have both a partner and a stake in something that could thrive.”

Y/n felt her heart drop. The warmth of the moment had evaporated, replaced by a chill of realization. “You want to marry me for the farm?” she asked, hurt creeping into her voice.

Caleb’s expression hardened, his jaw set. “You thought this wouldn’t have an exchange? Marriage is a contract. I keep you safe, I get the land.”

“I can’t give you what isn’t mine,” Y/n shot back, her voice rising in disbelief.

“Look, you’re inheriting the farm. Your father is old. When I marry you, I inherit the farm instead. You’ll still have your sheep and goats, but I want you to stay in the gardens with the flowers.” He stepped closer, his eyes earnest. “Think about it. I’ll spruce the place up, combine our land. We can make a name for ourselves!”

Y/n stared at him, the weight of his words settling heavily on her shoulders. “You’re talking about my life as if it’s just an asset, Caleb! What if I don’t want to be tied to the farm? What if I want to travel, to explore beyond Linkon?”

He paused, the intensity in his eyes faltering. “But this is our home! This is where our lives are. We can make it better together.”

Caleb’s expression softened momentarily, but he quickly masked it with determination. “I’m not trying to control you! I just see potential—”

“Potential for what? For you to fulfill your dreams at the expense of mine?” Y/n felt anger bubbling inside her. “You’re reducing our relationship to a business deal!”

“I’m trying to think practically!” he insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. “We live in a harsh world, Y/n. If you get chosen today, it could be the end of everything for us. I just want to protect you!.... I care about you. But this isn’t just about us. It’s about doing what’ll be best.”

Silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken words and emotions. Y/n looked at him.

...Why did it feel scripted?

She ignores the brief thought, letting it slip just as quickly as it had arrived. “I need time to think,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“You don’t have time to think,” Caleb said suddenly, pulling a small box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a simple yet elegant ring. “I got the ring. Just wear it.”

“You’re kidding,” Y/n replied, disbelief flooding her voice.

“I’m not,” he insisted, his gaze steady.

“Caleb—” she started, but he interrupted her.

“That farm is precious, and your family doesn’t even see it. Just marry me and let me help you.”

Y/n’s heart raced as she stared at the ring. “You can’t just expect me to decide everything right now! This is my life we’re talking about!”

“I know it is! But we’re out of time. If you don’t make a choice before the selection, you could end up as one of those girls, the ones that don't get anything good!”

The gravity of his words settled in her chest like a stone. She thought of the stories her grandmother had told her, the dark legends woven through the village about the gathering and the sacrifices. The idea of becoming one of those girls made her stomach churn.

“Caleb, this isn’t the way,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to feel like I’m being sold off or bartered for land.”

“But you wouldn’t be! You’d be marrying someone who loves you, who wants to protect you!” He took a step closer, desperation flickering in his eyes. “Please, just wear the ring. We can figure everything else out together.”

Scripted. It felt so scripted. But why?

Y/n felt torn, her heart battling against her mind. The prospect of safety and partnership clashed with her desire for freedom and choice. “I… I need to think about it,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Look, if you’re not gonna marry me, I can wait for Eva. Or I’ll marry Lorraine—”

“Eva? Lorraine? Excuse me? Them of all people?” Y/n shot back, incredulous. The idea felt like a slap. Lorraine was the village gossip, always getting into trouble and never taking anything seriously. And her sister? Absolutely.

Caleb shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m just saying, she wouldn’t mind. If you don’t want me, someone else will step in.”

“Right, because that’s how love works,” Y/n snapped, her frustration boiling over. “You can’t just jump from one sister to another like we’re some kind of game to you!”

“It’s not a game!” he argued, stepping closer, the tension thickening the air between them. “This is about survival, Y/n! Don’t you see? You can either have me fighting for you or risk being taken away, offered to the sea. I don’t want to lose you!”

Y/n’s heart raced as she considered his words again, the weight of the impending selection pressing down on her. The fear of the Dark Sea loomed larger than ever. “But I don’t want to feel trapped,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading.

Caleb softened, his expression earnest. “You won’t be trapped with me. We can make it work, and build a life together. Just think about it—before it’s too late.”

As she looked into his eyes, Y/n felt a swirl of emotions—fear, anger, and- disgust? But the thought of marrying him out of desperation gnawed at her conscience. “I need more time- stop saying we don't have it."

“Time is the one thing we don’t have,” he replied, frustration creeping back into his voice. “Please, just wear the ring. Show me you’ll consider this. I can’t bear the thought of you being chosen—”

“Y/n! Come on, we’re waiting for you!” Eva’s voice called from the house, pulling her back to reality.

Caleb took her hand, his grip firm but gentle, as he slid the ring onto her finger. “Insurance. Just in case,” he said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling around them.

Y/n blinked, her heart racing, but before she could respond, laughter echoed from inside the house. Her family had gathered, and when they saw Caleb placing the ring on her finger, their cheers erupted like a sudden storm.

“Oh, look at that!” her mother exclaimed, beaming. “My darling Y/n is engaged!”

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock. “No! Wait!” But the joyous noise drowned out her protests. Eva clapped her hands, and Lucy jumped up and down, her chubby cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Caleb! You clever boy!” Eva gushed. “We knew you’d come through!”

“But you don’t understand—” Y/n started, but her voice was lost in the commotion.

“Come here, you two!” Mrs. L/n pulled Y/n into a tight embrace, tears of joy glimmering in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl. You’re all grown up!”

Y/n felt the weight of her mother’s affection, but dread settled heavily in her chest. She glanced at Caleb, searching for a flicker of understanding, but he was caught up in the whirlwind of celebration, a victorious grin plastered across his face.

“Now we can start planning the wedding!” her mother continued, clapping her hands together. “This is wonderful news! The whole village will be thrilled!”

Y/n’s heart sank. The idea of a wedding felt like a chain, tightening around her, and the implications of her father’s words crashed over her again. Marrying Caleb was supposed to be a lifeline, a way to escape the selection—but something was off.

“Are you really happy about this?” she whispered to Caleb, who was now being congratulated by her father.

He turned, his expression earnest. “Of course I am. This is our chance. You’ll see.”

But Y/n could only nod, a forced smile on her lips, as the celebration continued around her. 

And in the distance, carriages were coming, adorned with the rain clouds. 

taglist: @0chemicalwaste0 copyright © 2024 Hellinistical all rights reserved. no part of this story may be reposted, edited, or reproduced without the author’s permission.

[crepesuzette2023]

In honor of @ilovedig's Birthday: some Beatles fanfics with rare (read: beyond 'straight' mclennon) pairings and unusual POV's!

McHarrison

The @beatleskinkmeme Summer of Love Fanworks Collection has some great new McHarrison fics.

Grateful for Him (@johangeorghohman). Five times George regrets John is in Paul's life, and one time he's grateful. An absolute heartbreaker of a story—so beautiful.

Invisible String (@scurator). Paul and George meet again at the Venus and Mars release party. They moved on; they will always belong together.

Knocking at Your Door (@eveepe). Paul and George kissing through the years, from childhood to Anthology. Special appearance by Paul's eager little prick (and you know I'm sold).

-----

Polycule Beatles

The same collection also has fantastic stories about the Beatles as a four-sided love story:

Deeper than oceans you run (@wonderwall1968). The four of them are reeling in the aftershock of a health scare. A dark, dream-like, intense story. John POV.

Everybody Loves Somebody (@bewareofdarkness). Soulmark AU: The four Beatles are meant to be together. But it doesn't happen without a hitch.

-----

Paul McCartney/Mal Evans

You Won't See Me (@swinginglondon42). Mal is in love with Paul, and can't see he moved on.

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John Lennon/Keith Richards

Emotional Rescue (@ohjohnnysblog). Near wordless comfort in the aftermath of a party—and Brian's death.

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George Harrison/ Yoko Ono

Miss Oh No (@aquarianshift). Yoko and her obsession with "real men" meets George and his resentment of the band he's nevertheless willing to protect from her. Brief, tense and hot encounter.

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John/Paul/George

I'd Love to Turn You On (sleeprettydarling). George knows Paul and John are lovers. He's curious. They show him.

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Brian Epstein/ Alistair Taylor

Another Kind of Love (Naraht). Lovely story about deep friendship and loyalty.

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George Harrison/ Bob Dylan

On the Avenue (@aquarianshift). Two weird men desire each other. George's soul splits from the Beatles. Dream-like and strange, but absolutely grounded in sensuality.

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George Harrison/John Lennon & George Harrison/Paul McCartney

Sour Milk Sea (You & You & Me) (cloudy_blue). John and Paul and George through the years. Relationship study.

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George Harrison/John Lennon

At Mercy (@eveepe). George and John are girls and in the same band. John was never more John than in this story. "How was I?"

-----

Paul McCartney/ Peter Asher

still mates (@pauls1967moustache). Perennial favorite, because it makes so much sense for Paul and Peter to have a misguided one-night-stand while Lennon/McCartney are falling into Mount Doom. If you didn't think you could fall in love with Peter Asher, think again. He's brave and wonderful in this story.

-----

Paul McCartney/ Donovan

Bound to be the very next phase (downtothelastdrop). Paul satisfies his curiosity in Rishikesh.

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Paul McCartney/ George Martin

Fixing A Hole (@m1ssunderstanding). Very much a George vs. Jim story.

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Linda McCartney/Paul McCartney/Denny Laine

Red Light, Green Light, Strawberry Wine (@savageandwise). Another all time favorite. Linda POV. A hot and angry threesome while Paul is waiting for John to call him back again.

-----

Unusual POV's

The Macs (@revollver). 1969 'we eloped to Scotland' John and Paul through the eyes of Mike McCartney.

Playing the Mind Guerilla (Anonymous). John and Paul through the eyes of George, Stu, and (wait for it) Nigel Walley.

I've Seen You, Beauty (bakerstreetafternoon). Paris '61 John and Paul through the eyes of Jürgen Vollmer.

Another Girl (@boshemians). AHDN Beatles through the eyes of Astrid Kirchherr.

Why Buy the Cow (RedheadAmongWolves). Early Days John and Paul through the eyes of the milkman.

I only have eyes for you (ififellinlovewithyou). John's collage and body horror.

Butts and Beatles: What the Ciggie Carton Saw (@waveofahand). The Beatles through the eyes of their cigarettes.

-----

Paul McCartney/Yoko Ono; Paul McCartney & Yoko Ono

Raglan Road (@savageandwise): Paul and Yoko make love after John's death. "He was their shared language. He was their lexicon. Their language was John."

White Swan, Black Swan (@savageandwise). Companion piece to the above. Yoko writes a poem to Paul. Incredible. This is the stuff I live for.

mesmerized by mythology (peculiar_mademoiselle). Paul and Yoko through the years.

Opposites (Selena). 1975. A visit from Paul and Linda to the Dakota. From Yoko's point of view.

Regeneration (@scurator). Yoko and Paul as widows. Paul is flirting. Yoko is not disinclined.

a great threat (@pauls1967moustache). Paul and Yoko are both women, and artists, and John's partners, and it makes everything so much worse.

modern love (caesdoublesteps). To break the angsty mood: Paul and Yoko meet to discuss her handing over the movie Self Portrait. Yoko POV; very amusing!

-----

Paul McCartney/Stuart Sutcliffe; Paul McCartney & Stuart Sutcliffe

The Bass Lesson (@aquarianshift). I sill stop reccing this hot, awkward, throbbing-with-resentment Paul/Stu sex when I'm dead.

Baselines (cloudy_blue). Stu hands over his bass guitar to Paul.

-----

And finally: Some @ilovedig Originals!

I Lost My Little Boy (Paul/Ian James, Paul/John). The Woolton Fete, but it starts as a date for Paul and Ian James.

Jane Did an Interview (Paul/everyone). Open-ended series with self-contained chapters. Old Paul and a possible life partner respond to Jane Asher's ominous refusal to mention Paul in an interview. Mini relationship portraits, from John to Klaus Voormann.

Happy Birthday! I hope the universe will send that epic and romantic Paul McCartney/Werner 'Icke' Braun-fic your way...sooner rather than later!

[mannytoodope]

Farrokh Bulsara (5 September 1946 – 24 November 1991), known professionally as Freddie Mercury, was a singer, songwriter, and record producer best known as the lead vocalist of the rock band Queen. He is known for his excellent four-octave vocal range and flamboyant persona on stage. Mercury wrote several hit songs for Queen, including “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “ Killer Queen, “Don’t Stop Me Now,” and” We Are the Champions.” He frequently collaborated with David Bowie and other artists. When he embarked on a solo career, he served as a producer and guest musician for other artists. He was posthumously awarded the Brit Award for Outstanding Contribution to British Music in 1992, and they held a tribute concert at Wembley Stadium. In 2001, he was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a member of Queen. He was inducted into the Songwriters Hall of Fame in 2003 and the UK Hall of Fame the following year. Freddie’s stage presence as a lead vocalist was extraordinary. He felt the music and never seemed to “ phone it in.” He is what a lead singer should or can be. He has left an impressive mark in a rock music family; peers and fans miss him.

[morethansalad]

Elote Soup (Vegan)