#he does mention the beatles though i must admit

[rosewatergrapefruit]

“

@sallycinnamons​ hehe okay. sorry this took forever I was like ‘ok if I post it I have to make double extra sure I’m satisfied with every song on there’ (special shout out to “Every Night” by THEE Paul McCartney, which I adore but decided was not right. It’s the only one I culled)

anyway HERE is a link to this playlist and below is a bit about why each song is on here or what gains the song entry to this playlist. Basically the organizing question is what does Love sound like to me, Mimi [REDACTED]? Like many great playlists it started as an informal shortlist in my head and I decided I really did want to keep track of them. You’ll notice maybe like I did after making the playlist that a lot of them are about someone you want to listen to or want to listen to you more than anything. clearly that’s the height of romance to me...

its not in any particular order, just how I added it. 

1. “Jesus, Etc.” - Wilco - “I’ll be around / You were right about the stars”

2. “Only for You” - Heartless Bastards - first song I ever felt sounded like love to me, would have been first song if I had not been actively listening to Wilco when I decided to pull the trigger 

3. “The Book I Read” - Talking Heads - “I’m embarrassed to admit it hit the soft spot it in my heart when / I found out you wrote the book I read” 

4. “Ask Me Why” - The Beatles - “I love you / ‘Cause you tell me things I want to know” also John’s cold voice sounds like hes cryinnnnggggg :)

5. “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)” - Talking Heads - as I mentioned earlier, often considered The love song in a catalogue characteristically devoid of them. Can’t pull out a lyric, all of them fit

6. “Ladies” - Fiona Apple - “Nobody can replace / anybody else / so it would be a shame to make it a competition”

7. “I Want You To Love Me” - Fiona Apple - Hey Guy Have You Heard This Song.

8. “Village Green” - The Kinks - ok this one is more getting at the fact that you can love a place so much, and also I always love how he goes back and sits with Daisy even though she’s married to the grocer. sometimes when you go to college out of state you form strong emotional connections with village pastorals okay?

9. “If I Needed Someone” - The Beatles - kind of incredibly blasé for a love song but thats why I love it I think?? It’s saying listen I don’t actually need anyone else but. If i did it would be you..

10. “Sugar on My Tongue” - Talking Heads - YAYYYYYYY BEING ALIVE IN A BODY AND HORNY FOR ANOTHER HUMANBEING IS BEAUTIFUL YAYYYYY LETS ALL HOLD HANDS

11. “Tim I Wish You Were Born a Girl” - Of Montreal - a repression enjoyer classic but its on here because he literally loves tim more than he knows how to think about. ok wow

12. “Concerto for Philodendron & Pothos” - Mort Garson - I have dreams about trying to orchestrate this one day and I’m giving the synth around :45 to a lone trumpet. That’s Love

13. “Nothing But Mine” - Billie Marten - “Be my friend / there is no other way to say it”

14. “Slide Away” - Oasis - “I dream of you / and all the things you said” & “Let me be the one to shine with you” & “We talk of growing old” NEED I GO ON? This one very recently has become an instant cry in the first ten seconds kind of song, which is nice. It deserves it

15. “Don’t Let Me Down” - The Beatles and Billy Prescott who is really quite crucial here - best John vocal of all time. Sorry. Don’t let me down please don’t let me down. Don’t let me down........

16. “Live Forever” - Oasis - “Maybe you’re the same as me / We see things they’ll never see” - man. man. man. man. man. yeah

17. “People Take Pictures of Each Other” - The Kinks - “People take pictures of each other / just to prove that they really existed” 

18. “Village Green Preservation Society” - The Kinks - “Aren’t they the same thing? Love and attention?” 

ok yay this was fun. If I ever add more songs I might come back to this post I really enjoy annotated lists 

[staczak91]

A list of some of my favorite musicians and why

I’m bored right now, so listing, in no particular order, some of my favorite musicians over the years and have stuck with me for my life so far. 

Music has always been an integral part of my life and I love it so so much. Just hearing the perfect song or finding that album that speaks to you is amazing.

So, yeah, here are some musicians that I love love LOVE! No surprises in here for people that know me.

The Beatles

I grew up with this band! My mom adored them and now I adore them. I’m more partial to early Beatles, but they made great music all across their years as a band. Favorite Beatle? I don’t think I can choose. They’re all perfect in their own way. The first rock band. The first boy band. The first musical obsession of my life. Thank you, Beatles, for everything you have given me. 

Kurt Cobain (Nirvana)

I fell in love with Kurt and Nirvana in college after my mom’s death and never fell out of love with him or the band. They’re my go to band when I’m feeling sad or angry emotions and need to just let it out. I found Kurt’s story amazing and believe he is a songwriting genius. Unplugged will always remain my favorite Nirvana album and live performance. 

Jack White

Jack White is one strange man! But I believe that is why I really love him and his music. He makes great straight-up rock music and I love him in whatever form he chooses to express himself: White Stripes, solo, Raconteurs, all of it is fantastic. I fell in love with his music in college after my sister introduced me to his music and, again, never fell out of love. His guitar-playing skills are legendary and he has a great voice to boot!

Amy Winehouse

Amy Winehouse was another college mainstay that I’m still in love with all these years later. I listened to both her albums numerous times and watched the film Amy, which was so sad and enlightening. I wish we all could have seen her growth as an artist and see her become even more of a legendary performer. Her jazz-infused pop was a breath of fresh air and she’ll always remain a favorite of mine. 

Taylor Swift

I had to include Taylor on this list! Been a fan of hers since Fearless but didn’t become a bigger fan until 1989, when I was hooked and never looked back. She doesn’t have a bad album to her name, and seeing reputation live was simply the icing on the cake. Her music and lyricism is perfect and on point and I’m so happy I became a fan of this legendary artist. She’s one of my all-time favorites and I will always love her and her music. Cannot wait to see what she does next.

Jeff Buckley

I found Jeff Buckley’s music a year after I graduated from college totally by accident and so happy I stumbled on his work. Grace is one of the most perfect albums I’ve ever heard and I wish we could have seen his growth as an artist. I’m sad we will never see more from this songwriting genius who was so empathetic and so real. One of my all-time favorites who has stuck with me for life. I simply adore Jeff Buckley.

David Bowie

My mom also adored Bowie and passed that adoration down to me. I remember his death hit real bad when it happened and the whole world was in mourning. And for good reason too. He was just a musician who was so full of life and was so so talented. He deserved everything he got in life. I’m still rocking out to his songs now and will never grow tired of this man’s legacy. Thanks, Bowie, for the good times.

Elvis Presley

I fell in love with Elvis in eighth grade and never looked back! Once I found out I shared a birthday with him, that’s it: I was hooked. And I’m still in love with his persona and music now. The ultimate rock star. He just shed cool. And was a marvel of an entertainer, from musician to rock star to movie star, he did it all. And he was able to move deftly between so many genres too. Really, I love Elvis, and I’m not ashamed. 

Harry Styles

Harry is a new love of mine, but I had to include him. I must admit I’ve never been a One Direction fan and even after discovering Harry and listening to them, I don’t think I’ll ever be one. (Sorry, guys.) But Harry’s solo music is a breath of fresh air in this kind of boring music industry now. He’s controversial and fun and his music is phenomenal. Fine Line is one of the best albums I’ve heard in years, and I’ll be singing “Lights Up” and “Adore You” until the day I die. Although Harry is a new love of mine, I believe I’m gonna love him and his music for years to come. Cannot wait to see him live and see what new great music he has in store for us. Really, I’m unabashedly in love with the guy and I have no regrets. 

Honorable Mentions:

For those who I outgrew or haven’t made my all time favorites list. 

Billie Joe Armstrong (Green Day)

Including him as an honorable mention. I used to be in love with Billie years ago as a kid and a young adult, but I kind of outgrew his music. Sorry not sorry, I have so many great memories with him and the band, but I just can’t really listen to them anymore. I guess I grew out of them. Still, though, it was fun while it lasted. I just feel like Green Day aren’t really trying anymore as a band and because of that I’ve lost interest in them. Again, sorry not sorry. 

Beyoncé

Okay let me get one thing straight: I love Beyoncé, her image and her music. But she isn’t in my all time favorites, even with these loves. I think she’s great and extremely talented but I have to be in the right mood to listen to her. Which is why I’m adding her to the honorable mentions. Don’t get me wrong. I love so many of her songs and albums. But...well, I just really have to be in the mood for her music. Still, though, she reigns.

Led Zeppelin

Same thing with Zep. My dad adores this band and it’s one of his favorites. But I can’t force it. I have to be in the mood for them. They’re fantastic, I won’t argue against that. But they’re also heavier than what I usually listen to. Still, when I want to bond with my dad, we usually listen to Zep together. 

Bob Dylan

Dylan is a goddamn poet and I love him! But again I just have to be in the mood for him, which doesn’t happen very often right now. Still, though, I won’t argue against his greatness. He truly makes masterpieces. At least his first few albums and in his younger days. 

Adele

Adele has a powerhouse voice and is technically a favorite of mine. But I find sometimes her music is missing something vital, which is why I put her in the honorable mentions category. Again, I realize how talented she is and am not saying otherwise. But, yeah, I’m usually in the mood for her but at the same time, find some of her music lacking. I’m sorry, Adele. I still love your brand. 

Well, there you have it. I’ve listened to loads of music growing up and I’ll continue to do so and find new music to love. But these are some of my all time favorite musicians and some honorable mentions. Hope you enjoyed the lsit! I know I enjoyed writing it! <3

[no-reply95]

It’s nice to think that John was aware of Jim hitting Paul, especially because that would suggest a level of trust in John and Paul’s early relationship if Paul was comfortable enough to offload his family troubles on an outsider like John.

I must admit however that I never interpreted John’s comments in that way, so let’s have a look at what John did say in the 1971 St Regis interview:

“Paul always wanted the home life, you see. He liked it with daddy and the brother . . . and obviously missed his mother. And his dad was the whole thing. Just simple things: he wouldn't go against his dad and wear drainpipe trousers. And his dad was always trying to get me out of the group behind me back”

Just to provide context to the above statement from John, the above quote is in response to a question about whether there had always been big differences between John and Paul, so the fact that John’s first thought is to bring up the importance of family is really interesting, especially in the context of the break up of the band and the break down of his relationship with Paul.

John appears to be lamenting the fact that Paul’s father, Jim, had such an influence on him, he was “the whole thing”. Paul wouldn’t go against his father, even though Jim wanted John out of the group. So how did John feel about Paul’s devotion to someone who was determined to see him out of the band and out of his son’s life? Let’s return to the the interview:

“So Paul was always like that. And I was always saying, "Face up to your dad, tell him to fuck off. He can't hit you. You can kill him [laughs], he's an old man." I used to say, "Don't take that shit off him… “He treated Paul like a child all the time, cut his hair and telling him what to wear, at seventeen, eighteen.”

We know that John prided himself on being a rebel from an early age. Not only does it appear that John was an anathema to authority he also wanted Paul to push against the biggest authority in his life at that time, Jim. In the context of trying to get Paul to stand up to his dad and to shake off his influence, John seems to be recounting how he sized up the challenge that Jim would pose, if Paul did stand up to him: “He can’t hit you. You can kill him, he’s an old man” to me these comments seem to be John’s attempts at highlighting how little resistance Jim could/would pose were Paul to stand up for himself, Paul is the younger stronger man so in a physical fight, he would undoubtably win and yet we’re aware now that Jim did hit Paul and that was something that Paul resented and probably does resent to this day. I don’t think John would have made such blazé comments (or literally laugh) about Paul’s obvious physical dominance over Jim if he was aware of the difficulty and relief Paul experienced when he did finally stand up to Jim after being hit one too many times. Paul finally standing up to Jim was such a watershed moment in his life and if John was aware of Paul being hit, he probably also would have known what a big deal it was for Paul to stand up to his dad, so I don’t think John (even in 1971) would be downplaying how monumental that was and I do think his comments here are coming from a place of ignorance on Paul’s home situation but that’s, of course, open for interpretation. As I mentioned before, this part of the interview was meant to be an explanation of how John and Paul were so different, what does Jim have to do with that? Let’s now return to the interview:

“But Paul would always give in to his dad. His dad told him to get a job, he fucking dropped the group and started working on the fucking lorries, saying, "I need a steady career." We couldn't believe it… “So I told him on the phone, "Either come or you're out." So he had to make a decision between me and his dad then, and in the end he chose me”

John’s early clashes with Jim, I think, are really instructive for understanding the parameters of John and Paul’s relationship, the stressors on their relationship and it’s ultimate breakdown. John needed to be the central figure in his friends’ lives, he needed to be the most loved, the most important, the most influential he needed to be the preeminent force and his relationship with Paul was no different. However, with Jim and more widely Paul’s family, being of the utmost importance in Paul’s life, John’s need to be the most important person to Paul was under threat. I think John’s need to be the most important person in his closest friends’ lives came a lot from his background of not being prioritised by his parents, of never quite getting the unconditional love and approval he craved from Mimi so where else could he get that love and approval he craved? From his friends, from his gang and importantly from Paul. However, what this anecdote from John shows is that, even at the earliest stages of the band’s history, John backed himself to always be chosen by Paul over his family and he backed himself to the degree that he would put the band on the line to test Paul’s loyalty, if Paul chose him over his family in 1961 he would do so again in 1969 right? It’s also interesting that John took Paul ceding to Jim and taking a job as him “dropping the group” even though Paul never quit and continued playing with the group whilst managing his new workload, perhaps suggesting that John had a tendency to overreact when he felt that Paul’s priorities were changing and he seemed less committed to him the group. Then there’s also the use of “we” in “We couldn’t believe it”. It’s possible that John is referring to George and Pete here, but if Paul was still showing up and playing with the group, what would George and Pete have had had to fear? Maybe Paul isn’t the only one who sometimes uses “we” to mask his insecurities… Let’s return to the interview for a final time:

“So it was always the family thing, you see. If Jane [Asher] was to have a career, then that's not going to be a cozy family, is it? All the other girls were just groupies mainly. And with Linda not only did he have a ready-made family, but she knows what he wants, obviously, and has given it to him. The complete family life. He's in Scotland. He told me he doesn't like English cities anymore. So that's how it is.”

So, ultimately in John’s mind it appears that the main sticking point was that Paul would always want the family life, the family life that he lost when his mother died, the family life that Jane, at that time, was reluctant to give him, the family life that John could never give him but that Linda could and did provide. Now that it was again a choice between Allen Klein (backed by John, George and Ringo) and the Eastmans (Paul’s new family) Paul again made his choice but this time it wasn’t John but the family life, that had always posed the biggest threat to John, that won out. I think Joshua Wolf Shenk made a lot of great points in his book “Powers of Two” about creative partnerships, one of his most impactful was that Jim was to John what Stu was to Paul, an obstacle to the strengthening of their friendship. A lot of authors have (correctly) drawn the link between Stu and Yoko as creating a wedge in John and Paul’s relationship but how many have drawn the link between Jim and Linda as the entrance of Linda on the scene was just as impactful and, looking at the way John spoke about Linda and her marriage to Paul (that John and Yoko predicted time and again would be short lived), it’s clear that John, maybe more than anyone, knew just how big Linda’s impact was on Paul and on the break up of not just the Beatles but also John and Paul’s relationship.

[blackberry-gingham]

wassup :) what abt a situation where john or paul is teaching you guitar or bass and you fall for them- like just the two of you alone in a room at a music store playing guitar- AGH... anyways, your writing is amazing love 🥰

DKDKSKSKSK you have chosen like the MASTERS of who would pull a move like that while giving the reader some "music lessons", honestly lmao.

Like literally both of them would do this irl, so I can't choose 😂 I guess I'll go with John for this one, so I hope that's alright! Also, I did a little interpretation of this ask. Welcome to the Beatles music store au! This can be read as either young or old John tbh, whichever you want, so I tagged for both.

Enjoy :)

---

The shop bell chimes merrily as you enter the Beatles': Music and More music store. It's a nice little place, owned by four best mates who know their stuff. You've been going for a few months now for guitar lessons, and you must say, it's been worth every cent.

Your tutor is none other then John Lennon himself, one of the four owners. He can be a bit harsh at times, but you've come to learn that teasing is really just his idea of fun. Rarely does he ever mean anything by it.

Besides, all his pushing has improved your skills better then anyone else you've taken lessons from, so you decided to stick around.

And, if all that isn't enough... Well, you must admit, you find him rather handsome. Not to mention he's charming and sweet under his prickly layers, a form of himself that very few get to know.

"Well if it isn't my star pupil!", John stands up straight from where he was leaning on the counter and exchanges some hellos with you. When the pleasentries are over, he nods towards one of the practice rooms and becones you on, "Come 'ed"

He holds the door open and you take a seat before breaking out your trusty old Fender Strat. John chooses the same old Rickenbacker he usually does and has a seat across from you.

"Now where did we leave off...", He tunes up the instrument while you do the same.

"Practicing riffs, right?"

John thinks for a moment, then remembers and agrees. Before getting to the main lesson, you always do a little warm up first. At first it was just chord progressions, but now that you're getting more advanced, you play a whole song or two together.

Sometimes he even breaks out a new one, just to switch it up, "You know, I think today we'll do one of Paulie's songs... It's rubbish of course, but the guitar part is easy enough. This one's called 'I wanna hold your hand', goes like this"

Hm, he seems to have a thing for learning love songs, you think. He's introduced you to quite a few these past weeks after all...

Regardless, you pay close attention as he does a run through of the whole song, then replays the chorus for you.

"There, think you can do just that part?"

"Seems easy", you nod and take to your Fender. With a bit of guidance on the note pattern, you make it through in one go.

"Well done! Ready to try the whole thing?"

You nod confidently, it's one of his favorite traits of yours. You never do anything half assed, and you don't seem to have any fear of failure. He loves that.

John plays through once, slowly, as you follow along to get the chords. There's a few slip ups, but nothing major. You do one more play through and then time for the main lesson.

You've been doing well on your little riffs course so far, so today John throws a tough one at you.

He plays the section again. And again. And again... But you keep messing up on the one particular chord sequence. Once again, you hit a sour note and John heaves a sigh, "No no no, like this. Here let me show you"

John stands up and puts his Rick aside before dragging his stool behind yours. He slips his strong, rough fingers over top of yours, "Now start strumming"

Your heart leaps into your throat at the whole ordeal, but you obey. As the chords come, John guides your fingers by moving his, just as though he were playing himself.

"Here, here, then here... Like that, you see?"

"Uh... Yeah, yeah I think so", you swallow and give it a try on your own. You pass through the first few hurdles fine, but from all the pressure from John's proximity, you slip up once again.

You stop playing and look ever so slightly over your shoulder.

"What's the matter, you nearly had it. Try once more"

"Actually, do you think you guide me through it... Like you just did? I-I want to make sure I have it"

Never in a thousand years would you think to ask something like that. You're normally so used to doing things on your own and John so use to you doing as you're told, especially when he says 'try on your own', that you're afraid of his response.

But, whatever you were expecting, it wasn't this...

John clears his throat and wipes damp palms on the thighs of his slacks, " 'Course", he mutters, leaning back in.

His solid chest barely grazes your upper back, and yet you can still feel his heart hammering beneath all the muscle. John's hand feels warm as it cups over yours once again, his heart continuing to flutter as he leads you through the motions.

"There... Beautif- Uh, I mean, good", John clears his throat and scratches his scalp, but nothing can distract from the blush creeping up his cheeks.

"...Are you alright?", You venture, trying to be polite, but... Well, it's almost too much to hope... It's just, you've been thinking about him an awful lot lately. More then in just your guitar tutor setting, that is.

So to even have a slight chance that he might fancy you back...

"Fine. Just need a drink... Take five, will you", he gets up abruptly and struts out of the room.

And just like that, your heart drops like a stone to the pit of your stomach. You've embarrassed him, surely. Oh why did you have to say anything! Now you've ruined everything, you must have.

True to his word, John leaves you with about a solid five minutes or so to ruminate on the debacle you think you've made. Just as you begin considering where you should go to find a new tutor, John walks back in holding two styrofoam cups of water.

You're both silent as he takes a seat, then, "Here", he hands you a drink.

You accept it, but you simply can't stand the awkward tension, "Mr Lennon, I'm sorry, I-"

John interjects, "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have walked out like that. And... also... I'm afraid I haven't been very forthcoming with you, and I can't keep it from you anymore. Er, I shouldn't, that is"

You give him a confused look, but remain silent as he takes a sip and licks his lips.

"I uh, this is very difficult for me to say, but uh... Well, over the past few weeks, I've been having some... Feelings for you... Now i'm sure you don't feel the same way, but I jus-"

Before he can go on, you hastily cut in to set him straight, "What? No no, I do!"

John snaps to attention, looking quite shocked indeed. You continue, a small smile gracing your lips. It feels good to get this off your chest, "I completely understand how you feel... I uh, I didn't want you to think I was strange or unprofessional... I was also scared you might not like me, but I understand, really! And, well, I... Have feelings for you too"

Now it's John's turn to smile, "Not like you? Who'd be daft enough to turn you away? All that talent and charm... Almost as good as me", he laughs, and you join him.

The tension has completely evaporated, and suddenly you feel as though you're hanging out with a friend instead of at music lessons, completely at ease.

John huffs one more chuckle at his joke, then looks shyly down to his hands. "Say... Would you like to, maybe...", He brushes his fingers over yours, touching ever so lightly, as though he might get burned, "Ahem, maybe... Get some real drinks? Down the street, perhaps?"

He looks up at you from under his brow, too nervous to sit up and face you in full, and he bites his lip as he waits.

Your heart absolutely melts. A second or so goes by as you rein in your emotions, and at long last you take a soft grip at his hand, "I'd love to!"

John peeks up immediately and rubs a few quick little circles on the back of your palm, although whether it's to offer thanks or to soothe himself, you don't know.

But when he holds your hand tightly, like a childhood sweetheart, as you both stand and walk out of the building...

When he chatters with you excitedly all the while you're on your little date, showing you a whole new, fun side to him that you're eager to get to know...

When he pays for your drinks, says to hell with it, and takes you to dinner too...

And when the night is upon you and he brings you back round to the store to grab your things, slips you his personal number, amd waits up with you to see you off in a taxi home...

All you can think of is, this wonderful man you feel you've just met for the first time. You can't wait to get to know him.

[beatles-slash-fiction]

If you're comfortable, would you write something about the 'fat Beatle' comment and John's bulimia?

WARNING: mentions of eating disorder

******

John had known he’d get found out eventually.

There’s no way you can keep something like this secret when you’re constantly sharing hotel rooms with other people.

John has tried to be careful; he’s made sure to wait until his roommate is fast asleep before sneaking off to the bathroom.

But tonight he’s sharing with Ringo, and Ringo is a light sleeper.

There’s a soft knock on the bathroom door just as John is choking out the contents of his stomach, and panic immediately overtakes him.

“John? Everything alright?”

John wipes his mouth with a shaking hand, flushing the toilet before splashing water on his face. When he emerges, Ringo is waiting for him with a worried look on his face.

“Must have been something I ate,” John says, forcing a tired smile.

But Ringo isn’t easily fooled.

“You can talk to me,” the older man says softly. “I’m not going to judge. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

John’s instinct is to deny it all, but Ringo’s eyes are so soft and understanding that John feels himself crumbling.

“Have you ever looked in the mirror,” John asks quietly, “and hated what you saw?”

Ringo takes a seat on the bed, patting the mattress beside him for John.

“Like have you ever just felt....fat?” John swallows. “Weird question, I know.”

Ringo is clearly putting two and two together as realisation dawns on his face, and he takes John’s hand in his own. “Loads of times.”

It shocks John a little to hear Ringo admit that out loud. He’d meant it as more of a rhetorical question, and as much as he hates to hear that Ringo has felt like that, it brings him some comfort too.

“I hate my double chin,” Ringo chuckles good-naturedly, “and my thighs.”

“But your thighs are amazing,” John blurts out. “You look amazing in shorts.”

“That’s very sweet. But I guess I just find it hard sometimes when we’re all constantly compared to each other. Paul and George are so skinny and there’s no way I’ll ever be that slim.” Ringo smiles sadly. “Is this what’s been upsetting you?”

John shrugs, suddenly feeling rather ashamed as he blinks back tears. “I feel so fucking fat. I wanna lose weight, but I love food so much and I’m so fucking hungry all the time.”

His stomach growls on cue and John sniffs, rubbing his eyes. He feels like shit.

“Oh, John.” Ringo squeezes John’s hand. “You’re so gorgeous, y’know. Think of all the millions of lads and lasses who are in love with you. They’d tell you they wouldn’t want you to change at all.”

John nods, not quite meeting Ringo’s eyes.

“And if you really want to lose a little weight or be healthier then maybe we could do it together? Y’know like eat more healthily and exercise. We could keep each other on track and look after each other.”

It actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea. John knows it’s not going to be as easy as just deciding he’s not going to make himself sick anymore, but it helps knowing that Ringo knows.

“Have you ever done that?” John asks quietly, nodding at the bathroom.

“No,” Ringo says. “I’ve never done that. But maybe you should talk to George. He’s had a very difficult relationship with food. Poor lad spent months barely eating anything. Remember his fainting phase?”

John does remember, but he had no idea that had been because George was starving himself.

“He’s better now,” Ringo adds. “He kept it pretty quiet but Brian found him a doctor who really helped. I think the doctor wanted George to gain a bit more weight but at least he’s eating properly now.”

John finds that incredibly surprising. George has never been anything other than slim, so he has no idea why George would do that to himself.

“It’s all rubbish,” Ringo sighs. “That we’re constantly being scrutinised. But I just wanted you to know that you’re not alone. I’m here to help you and I’m sure the others will too.”

John feels as though a little of the burden has been lifted from his shoulders at least. He still hates himself, but talking to Ringo has made him feel a little bit better.

And cuddling with Ringo always makes him feel better too.

[thecoleopterawithana]

The next night Elliot [Mintz] took us out with a friend of his, Sal Mineo, and we all went to a gay cabaret/discotheque. John was oblivious to the gay ambience. He was curious about everyone's sexuality and liked to gossip about who was sleeping with whom, whether they were gay or straight. John made no judgements about homosexuality but was really curious about who was and who wasn't gay.   He knew that his appearance at a gay club might start rumors about his own sexuality, and it made him laugh. He told me that there had been rumors about him and his first manager, Brian Epstein, and that he usually didn't deny them. He liked the fact that people could be titillated by having suspicions about his masculinity. Then I was the one who was laughing. "How could anyone believe a man who likes women as much as you do is gay?" I told him.   After the show we went back to Mineo's apartment. I was thirsty, and Mineo told me to look in the refrigerator. There was nothing in it but one big bottle of amyl nitrite.   Mineo told John that he knew Ava Gardner. "I'm a real fan of hers. I love Ava," John replied excitedly.   Mineo went to the phone, called London, woke Gardner up, and told her that John wanted to speak to her. John took the phone. "Ava, is that you? Ava, I think you're beautiful. I've seen all your movies. Christ, is it really you?" They spoke for five minutes, then a thrilled John handed the phone back to Mineo.

In May Pang’s Loving John (1983).

-

[Once again, a million thanks to @eppysboys for sending over passages of interest.]

-

Elliot Mintz (born February 16, 1945) is an American consultant. In the 1960s and early 1970s Mintz was an underground radio DJ and host. In the 1970s he became a spokesperson for John Lennon and Yoko Ono, and took on other musicians and actors as clients as a publicist, including Bob Dylan. [...] 

Though not in a professional capacity, since the death of Lennon, Mintz has acted as a spokesperson for the Lennon estate. In addition, while sifting through Lennon's belongings, he discovered hundreds of unreleased tape recordings including half-finished new songs, early versions of famous hits, and idle thoughts. Beginning in 1988, he hosted a weekly syndicated radio series based upon these recordings called The Lost Lennon Tapes, which was broadcast for about four years. After the show came to an end, Mintz began hosting the spinoff radio program The Beatle Years. Mintz has appeared in feature documentaries about Lennon and Yoko Ono, including The U.S. vs. John Lennon, Imagine: John Lennon and The Real Yoko Ono. In 1985 he was a technical advisor on the television film John and Yoko: A Love Story. He also authored an essay about his relationship with them published in 2005 in a book entitled Memories of John Lennon. [Source]

-

Salvatore Mineo Jr. (January 10, 1939 – February 12, 1976) was an American actor, singer and director. Mineo is best known for his Academy Award-nominated performance as John "Plato" Crawford opposite James Dean in the film Rebel Without a Cause (1955). Mineo also received a Golden Globe Award and an Academy Award nomination for his supporting role in Exodus (1960). A 1950s teen idol, Mineo's acting career declined in his adult years. He was murdered in 1976. [...]

By the early 1960s, Mineo was becoming too old to play the type of role that had made him famous, and his rumoured homosexuality led to his being considered inappropriate for leading roles. [...] In 1969, Mineo returned to the stage to direct a Los Angeles production of the LGBT-themed play Fortune and Men's Eyes (1967), featuring then-unknown Don Johnson as Smitty and himself as Rocky. The production received positive reviews, although its expanded prison rape scene was criticized as excessive and gratuitous. [...] By 1976, Mineo's career had begun to turn around. While playing the role of a bisexual burglar in a series of stage performances of the comedy P.S. Your Cat Is Dead in San Francisco, Mineo received substantial publicity from many positive reviews; he moved to Los Angeles along with the play.

Mineo met English-born actress Jill Haworth on the set of the film Exodus in 1960, in which they portrayed young lovers. Mineo and Haworth were together on-and-off for many years. They were engaged to be married at one point. According to Mineo biographer Michael Gregg Michaud, Haworth cancelled the engagement after she caught Mineo engaging in sexual relations with another man. The two did remain very close friends until Mineo's death. [...] While some have described Haworth as being nothing but a close friend and a "beard" to Mineo to conceal his same-sex partners, Michaud casts doubt upon this claim; he asserts that Mineo and Haworth's relationship was genuine, that Mineo fell in love with Haworth, and that Mineo regarded her as one of the important people in his life. [Source]

“Portrait of a Marriage really disturbed [John]. The book was an account of the fifty-year marriage of Vita Sackville-West and Harold Nicholson, both of whom were bisexual and continually unfaithful to each other, yet were able to evolve a relationship of great depth and longevity despite the incompleteness of their marriage. John was very distressed by the theme of sexual incompatibility in the midst of great emotional attraction and the fact that no matter how hard one tries, a marriage may always remain incomplete.”

In a 1972 interview with Boze Hadleigh, Mineo discussed his bisexuality. At the time of his death, he was in a six-year relationship with male actor Courtney Burr III. [Source]

BH: Who are those two girls you mentioned, for a double date?

SM: (Laughs.) Are you kidding? I got a girl in every port- and a couple of guys in every port, too.

BH: Do you think rumors about being bi have hurt you in your career?

SM: Maybe. . . Nah, I doubt it. Everyone's got those rumors following him around, whether it's true or not. Everyone's supposed to be bi, starting way back with Gary Cooper and on through Brando and Clift and Dean and Newman and . . . you want me to stop?

BH: Did you resent the rumors?

SM: Well, no. Because what's wrong with being bi? Maybe most people are, deep down.

BH: Shirley MacLaine has publicly said that.

SM: I think she's right- got a good noodle, Shirl does. But anyhow, the rumor about me, from what I hear, was usually that I'm gay. Where, like, with Monty Clift or Brando, the rumor was that they're bi. [Brando later publicly admitted to bisexuality.]

— Boze Hadleigh’s interview with Sal Mineo (1972).

-

“John and I had a big talk about it, saying, basically, all of us must be bisexual. And we were sort of in a situation of thinking that we’re not [bisexual] because of society. So we are hiding the other side of ourselves, which is less acceptable. But I don’t have a strong sexual desire towards another woman.”

Have you ever? “Not really, not sexually.”

One online satire imagined an affair between Ono and Hillary Clinton.

“It’s great,” Ono laughs. “I mean, both John and I thought it was good that people think we were bisexual, or homosexual.” She laughs again.

What about that old rumor that Lennon had sex with Beatles manager Brian Epstein (which was also the subject of the 1991 film, The Hours and The Times)?

Lennon himself said: “Well, it was almost a love affair, but not quite. It was never consummated. But it was a pretty intense relationship.” Later, Lennon’s friend Pete Shotton said Lennon had told him that he had allowed Epstein to “toss [wank] him off.”

“Uh, well, the story I was told was a very explicit story, and from that I think they didn’t have it [sex],” Ono tells me. 

— in Yoko Ono: I Still Fear John’s Killer by Tim Teeman for the Daily Beast (13 October 2015).

-

Q. Have you ever fucked a guy?

A. Not yet, I thought I’d save it til I was 40, life begins at 40 you know, tho I never noticed it.

Q. It is trendy to be bisexual and you’re usually ‘keeping up with the Jones’, haven’t you ever… there was talk about you and PAUL…

A. Oh, I thought it was about me and Brian Epstein… anyway, I’m saving all the juice for my own version of THE REAL FAB FOUR BEATLES STORY etc.. etc..

Q. It seems like you’re saving quite a lot for when you’re 40…

A. Yes, there might be nothing better to do, tho I don’t believe it.

— John Lennon, interview conducted by/on John Lennon, and/or Dr Winston O’boogie, for Andy Warhol’s Interview Magazine (November 1974).

-

John: [...] I was trying to put it 'round that I was gay, you know– I thought that would throw them off… dancing at all the gay clubs in Los Angeles, flirting with the boys… but it never got off the ground.

Q: I think I’ve only heard that lately about Paul.

John: Oh, I’ve had him, he’s no good. [Laughter]

— John Lennon, interviewed by Lisa Robinson for Hit Parader: A conversation with John Lennon (December 1975).

-

Like other alkyl nitrites, amyl nitrite is bioactive in mammals, being a vasodilator, which is the basis of its use as a prescription medicine. As an inhalant, it also has a psychoactive effect, which has led to its recreational use with its smell being described as that of old socks or dirty feet. It is also referred to as banapple gas. [Source]

Popper is a slang term given broadly to drugs of the chemical class called alkyl nitrites that are inhaled. [...] Popper use has a relaxation effect on involuntary smooth muscles, such as those in the throat and anus. It is used for practical purposes to facilitate anal sex by increasing blood flow and relaxing sphincter muscles, initially within the gay community.

"If you trace the bottle of amyl (a type of alkyl nitrite) through late 20th century history, you trace the legacies of gay culture on popular culture in the 20th century”

The drug is also used or for recreational drug purposes, typically for the "high" or "rush" that the drug can create.

Poppers were part of club culture from the mid-1970s disco scene and returned to popularity in the 1980s and 1990s rave scene. [Source]

“A cable had arrived for him that very morning stating the obvious: ‘Come too quickly. Stop. Try again. Stop. Am waiting in Paris. Stop me if you’ve heard it. Stop. Stuff yourself with artichokes and live. Stop. Don’t stop. Stop.’ He knew it was from Amie L'Nitrate.”

— in John Lennon’s unfinished story about a sudden rendezvous in Paris. Published in “Skywriting By Word Of Mouth”.

-

Ava Lavinia Gardner (December 24, 1922 – January 25, 1990) was an American actress and singer. [...] Gardner appeared in several high-profile films from the 1940s to 1970s [...] She is listed 25th among the American Film Institute's 25 Greatest Female Stars of Classic Hollywood Cinema.

-

Answered asks about:

John’s sexuality

Yoko and his sister Julia’s public statements about John’s sexuality

John "trying to put it ‘round that” he was gay

The Bob Wooler Episode

The Tony Manero Story

[Disclaimer: The answer to these asks represent my personal opinion at the time, which is liable to have evolved since then.]

[malereader-inserts]

How to Date Two Ethereal Beings

Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Crowley x Male!Reader X Aziraphale Summary: In case of sudden amnesia, refer to this! Word Count: 2,006 A/n: Part two of this

After being touched from the little guidebook you found lying around in the bookshop, you thought you could do the same, you know if you were to lose your memories. You kept it on you at all times, in your backpack because you did not want it lying around in your apartment for them to see and they never go into your bag.

Since, last time, they found a concerning amount of weapons that were sharp and could easily harm them due to their religious nature - so they steer clear from your bag. 

It was both simultaneously hard and easy to write a how-to book on dating an angel and a demon. It was hard because they are of ethereal beings, who have been taking care of themselves since the start of time but it was also easy to write because they share one brain cell and each of them is a half of a whole idiot.

1. For the love of whoever, give them the affection at all cost.

Crowley and Aziraphale are both touch starved. Hell is full of demons, most, if not all, get repulsed by the thought of touch, care and affection. They never keep up with their appearance and they have no care for anything but themselves and their dedication to Satan. Crowley is a special type demon, he craves affection and is obsessed with his looks. 

Despite Angels being typically kinder, Aziraphale got little affection and was more belittled by Gabriel, so he’s afraid of affection sometimes because he feels like something insulting would come afterwards.

However, the two learnt very quickly that Humans strive off affection and you love giving it out.

ANd they love it from you, at first it was out of the blue and they were, not uncomfortable but surprised at the affection you were giving out because they weren’t used to it.

It started when you gave Crowley a hug, he was so stiff and he didn’t know what to do as Aziraphale looked confused. You ran your hand at the back of his neck, tickling it slightly before parting the hug and then moving to hug Aziraphale, in which you ran your hand through his hair.

You smiled at them before you leave them for the rest of the day, looking at each other.

“I like that.”

“So did I, angel, so did I.”

They don’t communicate with you about the topic at hand but you were there to pick up cues. So, if the had noticed that you were giving out more love than usual, they don't say anything because they benefit from it immensely.

So, when you brush your hand against them they don’t admit they lean closer to you. You make sure to hold them longer than usual, hold their hands and always give them kisses.

Kisses on the cheek, kisses on their temple, kisses on their knuckles, shoulders, neck, and of course, their lips. Your affection fuels them for a few days, you are always sure not to deprive them of your love and care.

“Hey, love-” Crowley calls you from the back room of the bookshop, only to respond by wrapping your arms around him from behind.

“Yes?” You asked, your chin resting against his shoulder as he blushed red but cleared his throat, trying to distract you from him sinking softly into your grip.

“Angel wants to know if you’ll be joining us for lunch.”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it,” You say earnestly, letting him go, and venturing out to the bookshop to find Aziraphale.

“Hiya sweetheart,” You ran your fingers upon his hand as he stills, smiling sweetly at you, “Lunch break?”

“Of course!” Aziraphale would never decline food offer, swiftly you interlocked your fingers with his, holding his hand as you gently tugged him towards the back room.

“Come on, Crowley, food,” You called him over, clasping your hands with his as well and tugging the two along.

You smile to yourself when you hear them ooze out of noises of delight, you are just taking care of your boyfriends. 

2. Make sure to ward away Heaven and Hell.

Truth be told, you have a bone to pick with Heaven and Hell anyway. Angels are dicks. Demons are even bigger dicks. But, when the two are being dicks to your boyfriends - well, that causes a little complication. 

It’s been almost three months since Armageddidn’t and your boyfriends’ supposed execution. Heaven and Hell haven’t been causing much of an issue for Crowley and Aziraphale since of that mishap, but that doesn’t stop them from sending spies.

“Hey,” You hummed, running into an angel spy, who looks at you as you eat a BLT sandwich, “Uh oh, where do you think you’re going?”

“Listen, human-”

“Tell Gabriel I will punch him if I see him harassing Azira,” You warned, munching on your lunch, you were on your way to the bookshop, “You’re like the fifth angel I’ve seen this week and it’s only Tuesday.”

“So, I’ll be the fifth angel to relay the same message.”

You nodded, “Don’t worry, I have demons going to Beelzebub too.”

“You’re very protective over them, and they’re superior to you, you’re just human.”

“Perhaps, I just like fights you dicks, really.” You shrugged your shoulders, “Just don’t tell Aziraphale about that.”

“Noted,” The angel cleared their throat, “I guess I shall send your good wishes to Archangel Gabriel.”

As you walked to the bookshop, Crowley sneers a smile towards you before you opened your arms to allow him to engulf you.

“We’re celebrating!” Crowley cheers, waving a bottle of wine, which you had just noticed as Aziraphale rolls his eyes in good nature, “Three months without them pestering us!”

“Is this an excuse to drink?” You asked as Crowley gives you a pointed look with a nod as Aziraphale shrugs his shoulders at you when you raised an eyebrow.

“Well? Aren’t you going to join us?” Crowley waves the bottle in front of your eyes as you shake your head, “Come on! Don’t make me tempt you-”

“Crowley!” You exclaimed as he gives you a snidey look, “Alright, one glass.”

The two share a look before grinning and pouring out one for you. You don’t really care if your boys knew your scheming with Heaven and Hell to keep away from your boyfriends and if they did they don’t mention it.

3. Take care of Aziraphale’s Books/ Crowley’s plants!

Okay, so there are times when they go away for some random reason, you don’t get know all the time, but when they do you are tasked to look after their prized possessions. Therefore, Aziraphale trusts you with his books.

That’s easy for you to do, just close the bookshop and do not drink anything around the books in case you spill them. If you wish to read some, you must make sure you handle with care. That was the easy part really, most of the time you can chill in the back room with one of the books or your laptop chilling.

“Having fun there, love?” Aziraphale calls out when he returns to his beloved bookshop.

“As always!” You responded, “Your books are fine.”

“I know,” Aziraphale shows his face, a grin seemingly plastered on his face when he sees you, “That’s why I trust you with them.”

Crowley, on the hand, is different. You never took Crowley as a gardener of any sorts, so when you first witness his weird greenhouse, it took you by surprise. Nevertheless, when you watch over his plants whilst he’s off being an annoyance to the world of London (and somehow screwing himself over in the latter time) you are much nicer to his plants.

Whilst he screams at his plants: “Grow Better!” you’re softly cooing at them, softly encouraging them to grow and praising them for growth.

Unsurprisingly, they grow better in your watchful eyes, much of Crowley’s dismay.

“Are you sure you’re not secretly a warlock?” 

“No, Crowley, I’m not. Just human,” You say for the umpteenth time of the conversation. 

“Are you sure-”

“You are really annoying me now, Crowley,” You interrupted him, looking at him whilst he smugly grins at you, as you hand him the spray bottle, “Now go water your plants.”

“You’re lucky,”

“Hm? That you love me?” You teased him as he looked unamused, as he shows you the middle finger, “I love you too, Crowley.”

4. Gift them!

Whilst you couldn’t miracle things to them, whenever you gift them, they’re always internally happy.

It took you a while to get the grips of baking so you could do the classic angel cake for Aziraphale, and it takes you twice as long in the shops when you’re in the wine section because you can hear the echoing hissing of Crowley to get the best bottle.

You get them a bouquet of flowers, Crowley gets darker colours, sometimes with a dash of orange to spice things up but mostly you get flowers that are red or black. If not, you get him a plant you are a 100% he does not own. With Aziraphale, you get him brightly coloured flowers, sparks of purple and blue in his bookshop window. 

You couldn’t miracle anything up for them, but when you go out of your way to get them something - it means so much to them.

“Hey, Aziraphale, I found this old book in a car sale last Sunday, thought you’d like it.”

When you slide it over to him as if it was nothing he looks up at you with a sparkle in his eyes, you give him a soft smile and a shrug as if it was nothing. Though you would never admit you hate car boot sale and you had gone out of your way to finding him new books to collect.

“Oh, thank you so much, dear!” Aziraphale engulfs you into a hug.

“It’s nothing love,” You kiss him on the cheek.

Crowley doesn’t own a record player like you would believe, so you got him one at his apartment. He never said anything about it until the shelf it was up upon had new accompanied. 

In the shelf below you have put a rack in for the vinyl. Suddenly, he was owning all the Queen vinyl and the Beatles collection too. 

“You know, you don’t have to,” Crowley mentions as you scroll through your phone, searching to find him some new albums to collect.

“Hm?” You asked, distracted, not letting your eyes shift from your screen, you ignore him huffing out like a child.

“The vinyl,” He drawls out, “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” You respond, and you leave it like that. A stubborn mule refusing to stop what you’re doing, “I like doing it for you, you need to broaden your music, Aziraphale says you listen to something like bebop?”

“I-” Then there was a string of Crowley’s noises, “Velvet Underground is not bebop!”

“Mhm, okay.” You nodded as Crowley groans.

“Pay attention to me, (Y/n)!”

“That’s nice, Crowley.”

Oh, you better write down number 5. Annoy your boyfriend to keep them sane.

You shut the book, deciding the finish the guidebook later. At least, you have all the time in the world to continue writing. 

You need to learn how to clean wings, hopefully, you get that point your relationship, they trust you enough to clean them, but as far as you know Crowley and Aziraphale clean each other.

You’ve been lucky to see them, and you’ve been lucky to witness cleaning each other’s wings. You find it touching, really, you do. 

You side the book back in your bag as you hear a knock on the door, getting up from your seat on the kitchen table, you open the door and smiled to see your boyfriends in the middle of a heated conversation.

“What’s it this time?”

The two opened their mouth and you know it ‘s going to be a long night, but you wouldn’t trade it for any other.

[lunawho47]

Buzzfeed Unsolved: The Mysterious Doctor and the Omen of the Blue Box (Part 1)

Fandoms: Buzzfeed Unsolved and Doctor Who

Genre: Total Crackfic, Humor

Rating: 16+ (for language)

Summary: A script for Buzzfeed Unsolved, in which our two favorite jackasses, the Ghoul Boys, discuss the various internet theories surrounding the identity of various mysterious figures known only as “the Doctor” and the blue box that tends to appear around them.  Well, Ryan wants to discuss the theories; Shane thinks it’s all urban legends and bullshit.

A/N: So, I’ve read a lot of these mock scripts going around for Unsolved discussing CW’s Supernatural as though it was real, and I thought they were hilarious.  So, my brain started wondering what theories the reddit and conspiracy boards would think up about mentions of the Doctor, the Doctor’s companions, UNIT, and Torchwood.  And to be honest, my brain came up with A LOT of theories that would make sense, and this format seemed a fun way to discuss all of them.  It was originally going to be a one shot, but as I started writing, Shane kept interrupting in my head about how stupid all of it sounds, and that kept making the script longer and longer.  So, it’s now going to be a few parts long cos the history of DW (even when seriously truncated) takes a long time to go through when you try to use the serials to make arguments about the Doctor’s potential identity(s).  

So, here’s part 1.  Please let me know if you like it and would like to see more.  And if Shane and Ryan sound anything like themselves because if they don’t then the whole thing is nowhere near as funny as it should be.

Ryan: Today on Buzzfeed Unsolved we're looking into the puzzling mystery of an entity known only as "The Doctor" and the corresponding omen of a blue box.  It's a mystery that, in its more comprehensive moments, is whimsically strange and, most of the time, is just plain batshit bizarre.

Shane: Okay, so I can hear the air quotes around the name, and you called it an entity.  Are we talking like, cryptid creature that is based in reality or am I going to be sitting through theories about zombie plagues and Ant-man Ax murderers again?  Just what am I in for here?

Ryan: No zombie plagues, and the Doctor has never murdered anyone with an ax.  At least, not in any of the records available. It's just...well, it's hard to explain here, so let's just get right into it.  Just bear in mind this is Gene Wilder Willy Wonka levels of weird when it's at its most sensical.  And it's rare that this story makes any sense at all.

Shane: Alright, I'll confess I'm...intrigued.  I'm ready to listen.

Ryan: Alright, here we go.  *opens folder*

Ryan (in his Unsolved VO):  The first documented evidence of a being calling itself "The Doctor" is in the files of now deceased British UNIT officer Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart.

Shane:  Wait.  UNIT?  What's that? Sounds like something out of a video game.

Ryan: (wheeze) It does a bit, yeah. But there is paperwork evidence that verifies this group -- lame as the acronym is -- actually existed.  They were set up in the mid-1960s by the United Nations to look into unexplained phenomena and for a long time they were a covert operation.  The British Prime Minister knew they existed, and they answered to Geneva, but they weren't known to the wider public until after they shut down three years ago.

Shane:  I'm sure that meeting went GREAT.  'Hey, everybody, thanks for coming down this Monday morning. Erm...thanks for protecting us from alien invasions for the last 50 years and for keeping such a great secret about it.  Here's your reward: you're all fired, and we're going to tell the entire world what your names were and let you deal with the press about it for the rest of your life.  Have a great rest of your Monday!'  (Wheeze) What a bunch of shitty bosses.

Ryan: I mean, based on what little there is to read about how UNIT operated, the Brigadier we'll be talking about really had to go to bat for the organization in front of the Prime Minister a lot over the years in order to keep the operation going.  After the Brigadier died, they were able to keep going for awhile, but as you'll see from some of these stories we'll be looking at today, the organization was considered obsolete long before it was disbanded.

Shane: Okay, so the Doctor first appears in conjunction with this UNIT?

Ryan: Right, so in the 1960s, there was some weird circumstance that led to the London Underground shutting down and the Brigadier, who was only a Colonel in the regular British army at the time, ran into what he described as a "(quote) man with a foppish haircut, ratty waistcoat, and tartan patterned clown pants; a young teenage girl; and a full Scotsman (end quote)."  

Shane: So which is the Doctor?  

Ryan: In this case, it's the first description.  The man with the clown pants on.  (wheeze)

Shane: (wheeze) Do you think he had clown shoes on, too?

Ryan: See, I know exactly what you're picturing right now.  You're thinking of a guy with a depressing Beatles haircut and complete clown regalia, including the extra large shoes.

Shane: I am.  100%  And you know, given some of the things we saw when traveling around London, including on (*with a terribly fake posh Oxbridge accent*) the Tube, a man dressed as a clown running around the platforms underground wouldn't even register as weird on a normal day.

Ryan: (Conceding) That is true.  And on a normal day, I'd agree with you.  But, bear in mind, this was the 1960s -- not the modern day -- and the Tube at the time was closed to the public because of this unknown threat the army was trying to deal with.  And what's even more notable -- the reason why the future Brigadier apparently wrote about it in his official report to the Prime Minister -- is that the man who called himself the Doctor, together with the two other civilians, saved the day.  The details are sparse, but the Brigadier makes it clear that the Doctor is the one who figured out what was really going on and managed to deal with whatever the situation was with minimal casualties.

And that's just the first time the Doctor and the future Brigadier crossed paths.  There are later documents that report the Brigadier -- now promoted from Colonel and officially a Brigadier -- came across the same man and Scotsman, but a different young girl in London just weeks after the military organization known as UNIT was founded.  And AGAIN, whatever the situation actually was, the Doctor and his friends were the ones that helped UNIT save the day.

Shane: Am I the only one who finds it suspicious that the details are always missing?  Like, shady organization set up by the government to look into extraterrestrial happenings?  Sure. (*puts hands in the air in surrender to argument*) I'll buy that.  Governments do shady shit all the time.  But, I mean, things like shutting down the London Underground and alien happenings in the city of London itself.  People are going to notice, right?  And how shitty are the Brigadier's write ups that no one remembers or knows any of the happenings in Britain's capital?  "Dear Prime Minister, stuff happened.  Doctor did some other stuff.  Stuff stopped.  The end.  TTYL."  Sounds like someone was crap at his job and when things just luckily worked out, everyone just swept it under the rug.

Ryan: You see, I would agree with you there.  BUT...there are pictures.  We can't show them to the audience because of copyright, but if you know where to look online, people love to discuss the Doctor and all the people who have gone missing while looking for the Doctor, so.  Investigate at your own peril. But, Shane, here you go.

*the audience can't see the photos hidden by Ryan's open folder, but we see Shane's expression.*

Shane: (*laughs*)  That Doctor looks like a moron.  I mean, I still think the Brigadier must have been crap at his job, but he was bang on his descriptor of the Doctor looking like a clown.  And I take it the guy in the kilt is the Scotsman?

Ryan: Yeah, I looked up what full Scotsman means when I read the description and apparently it means a guy who wears a kilt with no underwear on underneath it.  Before that, I just assumed that it meant this other guy was wandering around the Underground, playing bagpipes and singing songs from Highlander or something.

Shane: You thought this guy was wandering around singing Who Wants to Live Forever over a decade before the film came out.  (wheeze)

Ryan:  Well, when we get into the theories that idea won't seem entirely out of place, I don't think.

Shane: Well, I'm going to go ahead and call a preemptive bullshit on that theory.

Ryan: Noted.

Ryan: (back in Theory VO) The next record of the Doctor's appearance comes about in the 1970s when a man is admitted to a local hospital after collapsing outside of a blue box in the woods.

Shane: There was a blue box in the woods?  Like, human sized or was he scrunched up in it like Shroedinger's cat?

Ryan: We'll get back to the box in a minute, but it's larger than a human, yeah.  In fact, it was something called a Police Public Call Box, which were common to see on city or town street corners in Britain in the 1950s and 1960s. The idea was that if police or citizens saw a crime being committed, they could either phone the police from the box or shove the criminal in the police box and go fetch a policeman.  But what's weird about the box in this case is: 1) it's in the middle of the woods, and not even on like, a hiking path or anything.  But, the legit WOODS.  And 2) it's the 1970s and police call boxes are no longer really a thing at this point.  But, once the man calling himself the Doctor gets to the hospital it gets even stranger.

Shane:  I mean, everything about this story so far feels like the Brigadier spinning a yarn, but keep going.

Ryan: So, the Brigadier gets a phone call from the hospital that a man called the Doctor has been admitted to the hospital.

Shane: Wait, how did the hospital know to call the Brigadier about that?  Was there a national bulletin?  Is the Doctor a wanted man or something?

Ryan: I don't know, man.  Maybe the police just call UNIT whenever something with the label "fucking weird" comes across their desk.  I don't know.  This is just what the report says.

Ryan: (theory voice) Due to a situation UNIT was overseeing in the area at the time, the Doctor's appearance was notably auspicious for the Brigadier, so the UNIT officer went to see if his friend could help with the investigation.  However, when he got the hospital, he discovered that he the man calling himself 'The Doctor' was not anyone he recognized.

Shane: Wait...what?

Ryan: (laughing).  I told you the situation at the hospital is weird.  So, the Brigadier is told that this man who has helped him out before has been admitted to a hospital that is nearby a situation that UNIT is investigating -- a clear sign, in the Brigadier's mind, that this Doctor who is injured is the same one he's met twice before -- and then discovers that it's a completely different man.

Shane: Well, I mean...that's not *too* weird.  I mean, the man is in a hospital, and you usually see doctors in a hospital.  And I'm sure a lot of doctors are known more by their title than their surname.  There are millions of doctors on the planet, so I don't know if two different people wanting to be called Doctor is all that unusual.

Ryan: (with a haughty smile) That makes perfect sense, but listen to this.

Ryan: (Theory voice)  The Brigadier assumed at first that the patient calling himself the Doctor was a coincidence and started to leave the room.  However, he found himself called back when he heard the unknown man call the Brigadier by name. The conversation made it clear that, not only did the patient know the Brigadier's full name, but also knew the circumstances under which the Doctor and the Brigadier had met both times before. Information which, at the time, was highly classified and known only to those in the Prime Minister's office and those who had been in the UNIT planning room at the time of the situational crises.

Shane: Okay, I'm going to call it.  I'm going with spy.  I think the Doctor is a code name and this guy inherited  the call sign and the information from the Doctor's previous operations.  

Ryan: So, you think this is like, a 007 scenario?  

Shane: I mean, I'm sure you'll peddle some alien abduction theory or some other supernatural bullshit, but...yeah.  I'm going spy call sign.  Makes sense to me so far.

Ryan: Well, you might not be a *total* dipshit, but...we'll see.  There's still quite a bit more to cover. This isn't even the tip of the weird iceberg.

Shane: (sarcastically) Oh joy...

[amoveablejake]

My Five Key Songs of March 2021

What do we have here 

I can’t quite believe that its already time for the songs of the month feature to roll around. Its been an interesting month for me musically as I’ve discovered a certain album and song that has skyrocketed its way through my rankings. So without further ado shall we see what made the list: 

Track number one: ‘Welcome to the Modern Art Museum’ by VANITAS命死

Following on from last week’s album of the week, I thought that it would be fitting to open this month’s songs of the month with the fantastic opening song from ‘High Renaissance at the Modern Art Museum’. Its a song that immediately whisks you away as it feels like it could be playing in the lobby of a cool hotel or indeed at the entrance to an art museum. Then again, not just any art museum but rather one that centres around Vaporwave and the gentle beauty that its songs contain. ‘Welcome to the Modern Art Museum’ is one such example of that gentle romanticism and its been accompanying me as I read about the early days of Argentinian football. I know, what a combination. 

Entry number two: ‘Feet’ by Hiroshi Yoshimura 

If I could only pick one album to listen to for the rest of my life, well, I wouldn’t know what to pick. However, I do know that ‘Green’ by Hiroshi Yoshimura would be up there. One of my favourite albums ever, ever since I discovered Yoshimura’s ambient music last year my obsession has been growing and growing. Its hard to pick only one song from such a sublime album but this month ‘Feet’ has particularly stood out for me and as is my custom I listen to the track that I’m writing about and here I’ve found myself typing slower and slower as I start to daydream and yet again get those in the gentle ambient tones from Yoshimura. If you haven’t listened to ‘Green’ yet, change that immediately and this month pay particular attention to ‘Feet’. 

Song number three: ‘I’m Not in Love’ by 10cc

Over the past month I have found myself revisiting the Guardians of the Galaxy Awesome Mixes volumes one and two and listening to them again and again. What has been interesting on these listens is that I have focused on tracks that I didn’t use to. My favourite tracks from the record remain the same however, ‘I’m Not in Love’ which I didn’t use to pay as much attention to has suddenly become one of the stand out songs from the compilation. Lifted from the first of the two volumes, ‘I’m Not in Love’ very much feels like it should be listened to whilst floating through space as Peter Quill does. I have also noticed that there seems to be a running theme of this month’s songs of listening to ambient songs or ones to listen to in empty, calm spaces. Shall we see if the next track changes that? 

The fourth addition: ‘My Sweet Lord’ by George Harrison 

There are some artists where if I hear one of their songs playing whilst I’m out and around it will stop me in my tracks and I’ll smile. Earlier today I heard George Harrison singing as part of the Travelling Wilburys and it did just that. I stopped and smiled, thinking of Mr Harrison. I mentioned above that I’ve found myself focusing on different songs on these listens to the Guardians of the Galaxy soundtracks and yes, that is true however, as is no surprise ‘My Sweet Lord’ still stood out in volume two of the Awesome mix. But really how could it not? George Harrison’s music has an almost magical air around it, even when he only appears briefly in a song he steals the show. Forever my favourite Beatle, it was only a matter of time until he featured as one of this year’s songs of the month and I have a feeling this won’t be the last time either. 

Here we go, track number five and our track of the month: ‘Loving the Alien’ by David Bowie

I had not listened to ‘Tonight’ before this past month. As going into any Bowie album I have high expectations as I wonder if it will be able to reach the heights of the Berlin trilogy (particularly ‘Low’) or if it can meet the level of ‘Hunky Dory’. And if it can’t meet those album levels will it be able to some of his key songs such as my beloved ‘Heroes’. The answer, yes, yes it can. Okay, I’ll admit it doesn’t quite get to the ‘Heroes’ level but then again I don’t think that any song can as that opening gambit strikes to my heart like no other song. ‘Loving the Alien’ though, it does get close. I must admit that I got sucker-punched by ‘Tonight’, I wasn’t quite expecting to fall head over heels for it and especially to become so infatuated with one song in particular which is the one I’ve chosen here. ‘Loving the Alien’ is Bowie at his best delivering a performance that only he can and I find that rather fitting given its title. The man who fell to earth indeed. 

There we go, the five key songs for March 2021 and the track that will make it to the end of the year compilation ‘Loving the Alien’ by David Bowie. Its always funny when I write these pieces as I look back on the past month and how it has been influenced by the above songs and some others that didn’t quite make the cut and I find myself thinking of what will be next. For now though, I shall see you tomorrow for another album of the week. 

- Jake, a man who watched the Snyder cut *sigh*, 28/03/2021 

[sgt-revolver]

ULTIMATE Beatlemaniac Tag!

I was tagged by @ourladylennon and @johns-prince to complete this questionnaire. Thanks for the tags, I honestly really enjoyed answering these questions.

How long have you been a fan?: I’ve been a fan for as long as I can remember. I always loved hearing their music on the radio and my music teacher was a fan, so he’d regularly play their music in his lessons and on one occasion I saw like the first 30 minutes of A Hard Day’s Night. I think I only got as far as the scene with John in the bath before he turned it off. But it’s only been during the last 2 and a half years that I’ve listened to them more often, and I’ve finally listened to all the albums all the way through. Now I’m a huge fan and can’t live without their music.

Favorite Beatle: John. It’s always been John for me, even back when I was a kid he was my favourite.

Favorite era for music: I’ll always have a soft spot for their early-mid era music, around 64-66 is my absolute favourite.

Favorite era for lewks: Teddy boy and the whole of 1966 for me. They simply looked so fucking cool around those two eras. The teddy boy era was just hot with all the leather they wore and how they tried to make themselves look ‘tough’, and during 1966 that entire year seemed to be a huge transitional period which mixed with their earlier career and how they looked later on.

Favorite song: This changes, and I do not have only one favourite song. I’ll always love Strawberry Fields Forever, it is always up there as one of my favourites. Same with I am the Walrus. I also love If I Fell, Nowhere Man, In My Life, I’m Only Sleeping and Something. There’s more but this answer will be too long if I keep going.

Favorite album: Revolver, no question. My username is based off it too.

Unpopular/Controversial Beatles opinion: Not necessarily unpopular but I really don’t like Yoko Ono as a person. I wish she didn’t try to make herself part of the band, it’s actually really infuriating. I don’t like to talk about this sort of thing so I’ll leave it at that.

A song everyone loves but you dislike: Ok I don’t necessarily dislike these songs, but I think Hey Jude and Let it Be are overrated.

A song everyone dislikes but you love: Run for your Life, Blue Jay Way and Revolution 9. I’m not really sure why Blue Jay Way isn’t well liked its underrated imo.

Your fantasy involving The Beatles: Seeing them live in concert, before they become big and go to America, preferably in Hamburg or at the Cavern Club. It must have been amazing to be able to be where they started out before Beatlemania, the atmosphere omg yes please. After the show I’d try to do anything I can to meet them, but I suspect I’d end up being so starstruck it would be painfully awkward, but it would be so worth it.

Tell us about the moment you knew you were a fan: There is no one moment I knew I was a fan, but I guess I realised I was a big fan when I listened to their albums all the way through, and I enjoyed them. There’s also the time when I watched the Eight Days a Week documentary and I couldn’t help but love them so much.

Did you ever have a genuine ‘The Beatles suck!’ phase before becoming a fan?: Nearly. This was after I became a fan but a long time ago, I kept hearing constantly how they’re not that good from people I know irl and it almost got ingrained in me for no reason at all. I’m glad I didn’t have that phase, otherwise I would be beating myself up for it now.

Favorite Beatles book: I haven’t read any yet, but I really want to and I’m not sure where to buy any (I’m a bit iffy about buying off Amazon)

Thoughts on the old generation of fans: They can be a bit full of themselves, but I like hearing their stories and their preferences on their favourite albums. Most of the older generation of fans I personally know seem to love John and hate Paul, so I automatically think they’re all the same but I know that’s not true.

If Hollywood were to make a high budget Beatles biopic, what is one thing you desperately hope they include?: I’m personally unsure if I want a Beatles biopic as I know they’ll mess everything up but I want them to include the strong bonds formed with each other and that they never actually hated each other.

Do you read/write fanfic?: I read a lot of fanfic, but I’m not confident with my writing ability so I don’t write anything. Yet.

Are you the only one in your family/friend group to enjoy them?: Both my mum and my dad claim to be fans. My step dad loves them though, yet every time I bring it up with him when he mentions them he ignores me completely, and its painful. My friends either think they’re overrated (they’ve probably only listened to Hey Jude, All you need is love and Yesterday) or they just don’t care/don’t know who they are. And if anyone I know is interested in them, they just mansplain everything to me so I can’t really enjoy listening to them or talking about them with others irl.

Are you a shipper?: Yeah I am.

Favorite movie starring/made by them?: A Hard Day’s Night.

Do you believe in McLennon?: I believe they were soulmates, definitely.

General opinions on McLennon?: They loved each other, there is no doubt about it. The signs are obvious, like the eye fucking, how they were literally inseparable for years and their LSD trip they had together. I do think it was mostly platonic though, and that any romantic attraction was one sided from John. I think Paul was oblivious to some of John’s feelings for him during the 1960s and that upset him.

If you got to change ONE thing about their history, what would it be and why?: The break up, they hurt each other’s feelings so much from all the suing and fighting they were miserable. I would make sure they ended things more amicably and I’d make sure Allen Klein does not get a look in at all during 1969. Seeing Paul get hurt like that is awful.

What song has the best vocals?: This is a real hard one to answer, but I’d say Twist and Shout, Helter Skelter and Norwegian Wood.

What song do you feel had no effort put into it?: Wild Honey Pie.

What is a well talked about moment in Beatles history you genuinely believe to be false?: Yoko wasn’t fully responsible for the break up the Beatles. I believe it was everyone’s fault to some extent, some more so than others. I think John caused the most damage to the band as a result of him putting in nearly no effort and having Yoko on his shoulder every day. Ringo quitting for two weeks is when I believe things were really starting to fall apart, and they never really recovered from that.

What is something you KNOW to be true, but often gets erased in their history?: John was bisexual, he’s pretty much admitted it as well. It gets dismissed constantly though. All of the Beatles were nice, amicable men who had their flaws and did what they can to become better people. None of them were gods, and none of them were inherently terrible people. John and Yoko’s relationship was toxic and incredibly unhealthy. They weren’t as happy together as the books and the Lennon estate make them out to be.

Least favorite look from a Beatle(s): John’s Sgt Pepper moustache. It just didn’t suit him, but then there was his beard from 1969. The beard looked disgusting and way too messy. I don’t think he made any attempt to keep it clean and that he just didn’t give a fuck about it, he just left it there to get worse and worse each passing day.

Favorite look from a Beatle(s): Shea Stadium, on all of them. But when John’s sweaty and his hair is a mess, he just looks fantastic. I also love the suits all four of them wore in Cincinnati in 1966.

I’ll tag @princessleiaqueen @theliverpoolsoldier @underwallsandbridges and @latinxbeatles and anyone else who wants to do it. Don’t feel like you have to do this, but I love reading everyone’s answers :)

[dearlazerbunny]

Lie to Me (Ch. 10 of ?)

Pairings: Loki x Reader

Genre/Ratings: M eventually (aiming for a slow burn here); warnings for kidnapping and subsequent anxiety/PTSD (will be marked before every chapter)

Words: 2800

Summary: If you had to guess what the captured, traitor, trickster god Loki Laufeyson wanted or needed at this moment, a babysitter would be far, far down on the list. (Set after the events of Avengers 1.)

SHOUTOUT TO @molmcb and @jessiejunebug for their constant loveliness

Requested Tags: @deraniel @iamverity @yasnooshka24@wegingerangelica@themusingsofmany @dark-night-sky-99 @tarynkauai@stuffandstuff-stuffand the total sweetie @angelicshinigami @my-current-fandom-is @geekysimmerthings

WARNING: I have an extremely basic white girl taste in music. Rather than actual classics, I decided to stick with what I know, because I personally think it’s funnier to imagine Loki reacting to Kesha than the Beatles. Please do not scream at me for my horrible taste in music. I know it’s mainstream. But also you can pry my all consuming love for TSwift out of my cold, dead hands, okay thank you for coming to my TEDTalk

Something you’ve come to like about Loki is that he can appreciate silence.

Everyone seems to think that two people sitting quietly has to be awkward; something to avoid- but really, there’s nothing better than being in a room with someone, each doing their own thing, but enjoying the other person’s presence nonetheless. It’s a kind of comfortable that only comes with a severe amount of trust in the soul sitting across from you. Trust that you aren’t simply something to entertain them, or a mouth to keep them occupied- they like you even if all they’re doing is watching your eyebrows quirk as you read a particularly fascinating novel.

Sure, most of your visits are still full of back-and-forth bickering that could rival a fifties sitcom- you never seem to run out of things to talk about- but some days, when he can tell you’ve had a row you’d really rather not discuss, or you know he’s simply not in the headspace to chat, the two of you will simply sit and be. You’ll page through a book or scribble down some thoughts on your notepad while he laces and unlaced his long fingers into intricate patterns, content to sift through his thoughts.

Though you do mark down a note to talk to someone about getting him a few books. He’s got to be bored in there.

To your surprise, these quiet days quickly become your favorites because as much as you love his twisted sense of sarcasm, you like his singing voice more.

Sometimes, Loki will hum.

It’s always very quiet, under his breath, and most of the time you think he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. But every so often you’ll pause from whatever you’re doing to listen to the faint melodies coming from his cell. It’s never anything you’ve heard before, and the music is hopeful and happy and tragic and uplifting all at once, the kind of thing that makes you want to smile and cry at the same time. They must be from Asgard, because you doubt any music from Earth could ever sound like this.

You never mention it, though. You’re afraid if you call attention to it, he’ll stop, and the songs seem to give him a small bit of joy in his lonely bubble of isolation. You’d never want to take that away from him.

Today, rather than reading, you’ve got your arms curled up underneath your head and are fighting (and mostly failing) to keep your eyes open. You got caught up on a project last night and didn’t even realize what time it was until he sun was peeking through your curtains, leaving you to chug several cups of coffee and hope for the best.

But Loki is humming and the music is making you drowsy and warm which is not a great combination for wanting to stay awake. For his part, he doesn’t tease you about very obviously falling asleep on your desk, which you appreciate- you’re pretty sure any comebacks thought up right now would be incredibly lame

“ ‘S pretty,” you mumble, trying to blink the blurriness out of your eyes. Ugh. You hate all-nighters.

“Pardon?”

“You have a pretty voice.”

He doesn’t respond for a minute- though that might have been because you fell asleep for a second- but eventually he just chuckles briefly. “Thank you, I suppose. It does tend to be part of my appeal.”

“Your singing voice, stupid. It’s pretty.” A yawn nearly splits your face in half, and you blink at him blearily.

“When have you ever heard me sing?”

“Well you hum. Same thing. ‘S nice. Never heard it before.”

“I see.” He lapses into silence, and you frown.

“Well don’t stop.”

“I- I am not sure I even know what I was humming.”

You grumble, frustrated. “It was like-” you lilt into a vague approximation of one of his songs, the one that makes you think of a sunflower field on a misty day. “Like that. Kind of.”

Now he properly laughs. “I apologize, I don’t believe I can recreate… whatever it is you just pulled out of your sleep-addled brain.”

“Never said I was a singer.” Another yawn. “Sing something else then.”

“The Witling is quite pushy when exhausted,” he says amused. “Noted.”

“Shu’ up.” With a huff, your head is back in the crook of your elbow. “Why do I even like you.”

“For lullabies, apparently.”

You don’t quite catch that bit, as the drowsiness has finally caught up with you- your eyes close, you curl yourself into a more comfortable position. Loki stares at you, somewhat amazed that you feel comfortable enough to be so vulnerable with him in the room. You look peaceful, content- something warm sparks in him. “It was something my mother sang me, when I was young,” he admits, when he knows for sure you can’t hear. “I seem to recall it chased away nightmares quite effectively.”

But he does start up his lullaby again. It pulls on the homesickness in his chest, but it also makes you smile softly in your sleep.

You dream of sunflowers.

                                                          XXX

“Okay, since I basically forced you to culture me on Asgardian music-”

“I believe you underestimate your incredibly rude demands.”

“I- I was half asleep! I wasn’t trying to on purpose-” you stop when Loki grins, making it obvious that he’s only teasing you. You huff. “Whatever. You suck. Don’t interrupt. Since I basically forced you to culture me on Asgardian music-” you pull out your phone and plunk it on the table. “I’m going to culture you in some Midgardian music.”

“I… see…”

“Don’t look so terrified, I’m not going to subject you to screamo headbangers or anything.” Loki gives you a look, the one that says what on Midgard are you talking about, you strange mortal. “I’m going to start you off with the classics.”

“Be still my beating heart.”

“I know, you should be grateful. My taste in music is the epitome of class and excellence.”

“…of course.”

You pull your phone out of your pocket and flick through your playlists, wondering what to dive into first. “Are you feeling something upbeat or angsty?”

Loki snorts, which is hilariously undignified for him. “I defer to your judgement.”

“A wise choice.” After a few flicks of the screen, you turn your volume up to full blast and sit back to listen.

“I got too many people… got left to prove wrong…”

Serene acoustic guitar washes through the room, and you drum your fingers on your thigh in time to Kesha’s voice. “Don’t let the bastards get you down…”

Loki raises an eyebrow. “Is this your way of attempting to be inspirational?”

You grin at him. “I thought it’d be uplifting.” “Been underestimated… my entire life…”

Once that song is over, you scroll a bit and click to a more techno, pop-y sounding beat. “I knew you were trouble when you walked in…” Again, he stares at you from behind the glass. “What? It’s a great song! One of her best!”

He wrinkles his nose. “Beyond the obvious message…. I do not believe I’m a fan.”

“Hm. Your loss. Honestly I’m disappointed I didn’t name you Trouble instead of Trickster, this would be a perfect theme song for you.” At his death glare, you hold your hands up, giggling. “Okay, okay! Next one…”

You roll through a couple of P!nk’s newer works, guessing he might appreciate the poetic lyrics, and then just because you want to you throw in a couple K-Pop groups, and then asked him for translations on the songs you’ve never bothered to google. “And this is currently the quintessential Midgardian music experience.” The first few strains of the goddamn song nobody can get out of their heads, Let it Go, begins to play. “It’s from a musical called Frozen, based on the old fairytale The Snow Queen.” You wiggle your eyebrows at him suggestively. “Magical ice powers, frozen hearts. The whole shebang.”

His eye rolls are really something spectacular. “Fascinating.”

“I just thought you’d appreciate the theme!”

He tilts his head. “Am I missing a joke, Witling?”

You grin at him. “You know, being a frost giant and all. I thought you could really, I dunno, empathize?”

Loki- well, Loki does something, something you can’t quite describe other than a  complete and systematic mass shutdown. It’s like his very soul suddenly ascends and leaves behind a body that can do nothing but breathe and blink. His eyes go opaque, and even the casual tapping and twitching of his fingers stutters and then stills. He practically disappears in front of your very eyes, as invisible as a person can be behind a pane of glass. Something in your stomach immediately turns. “Um, Loki? You okay?”

“How did you know that.” His voice is toneless, and quieter than you’ve ever heard it, even in those beginning days where he did nothing but huff and sigh at your existence.

You’re confused, but more than that, you’re frantically wondering what you did to cause such anguish to appear on his face. “How did I know…? I don’t know what you mean.”

“That I- I’m not-” he takes a breath, and it shudders out of him so achingly slowly something about it breaks your heart. “A frost giant.”

“How did I know that…you’re a frost giant…? I mean, like everything else we knew about you, from old poems and stories…” there’s a flare of anger in his eyes that scares you. “Is that- is that not good?”

“You say you knew this from the old stories?” His voice is still quiet, but now there’s something simmering beneath it.

“Yeah. The Poetic Edda and all that. I think they’re described as a race in Beowulf which is like, freshman English 101.” Silence. Heavy, stifling, suffocating silence. Your chest heaves from the pressure of it. “Loki? You’re scaring me here.”

The life crashes back into him all at once, and he’s suddenly as hot and dangerous as a flare lit to explode. “You knew this?” He roars, up on his feet and practically vibrating with intensity. His glare pins you to your seat. “You knew- the pathetic Midgardians, of all the races in the galaxy, knew my own secrets before even I?” He laughs violently, his entire body shaking with the force of it. “Of course they did! Because what luck would the universe afford me other than heinous? Other than disgusting-” his cot gets thrown from its position in the corner to the other side of his cell- “rotted-” his hands clench; knuckles white- “fate!” He stands amid the small chaos he’s created, heaving, eyes wild and looking for something to destroy.

You’ve curled yourself up a small as possible, watching the scene unfold with your heart in your throat. “Loki?” You whisper, not noticing a small tear drip onto your cheek. “I’m- I’m sorry. I don’t know what I said but I’m so sorry-”

When he whirls on you, notices your wide eyes, a little of his rage dissipates. “No, Witling, it is not-” he groans, clearly frustrated, and runs his fingers through his hair to direct his anger somewhere other than you. “You did nothing, other than confirm that the world is infinitely cruel.” His laugh is darker this time, more bitter. “That is a not a new lesson to me, have no fear.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

“I do not see how you would.” He looks away, but you get the idea that he’s tying to avoid his own reflection rather than you. His hands clench and unclench.  “I am not sure how your poets came upon such knowledge, but it becomes more and more clear that their sources outrank even my own.”

Realization smack you so suddenly there’s a physical sting on your cheek. “You… you didn’t know. You didn’t know?” How is that even possible?

He grimaces. “Not until a scant year ago.”

You stare at him. “You didn’t know that you were a frost giant until a year ago.” He opens his mouth to say something scathing about your parroting habit, but you cut him off. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just- how? Why?”

“Why does Odin do anything?” He snarls. “To manipulate. To lie. To raise torment.”

His tone is cutting, but his eyes are lost. Despite the anger radiating off of him in waves, he stands in his white cell alone, adrift, with nothing to anchor him. Ever so slowly, you push back your chair and stand- he eyes you like a caged animal, which is all too accurate to his situation- and walk to him, gauging his reaction as you go. He only watches, so you eventually get close enough to reach out and touch the glass in front of you. You can’t offer anything but that. “Tell me?”

Loki’s sigh caries millennia of unspoken stories. “I would not tell a tale you already know.”

You shake your head a little. “I think I’m realizing we never knew the first thing about you.”

He looks at you for a moment, apparently weighing your words. “It is quite simple. On a mission to slaughter the Jotunn, my father came across an abandoned child in the middle of the battlefield. He concealed its nature and brought it to Asgard to raise in hopes of one day using it as a bargaining chip for peace.”

It. He speaks of himself like a thing, not a person. “Why did he never tell you?”

“Because it would have risked disloyalty, and crippled his plans.” His eyes darken. “If I had realized sooner that I could never take the throne, never truly be a prince of Asgard…” he doesn’t finish his sentence, but you can guess the sentiment.

“He used you.” The simple fact hangs naked in the air, a revelation for you but old news to the god in the cell.

“From the day he spotted me. I was never more than a pawn to him.”

“But didn’t you look different?” You blurt out, trying to wrap your head around the inconsequential details in order to ignore the more painful implications. “I mean- I don’t know what frost giants- Jotunn- look like, really, but…”

He does smile a little at that. “Magic mimics, and illusions are quite easy to conjure. I imagine my subconscious did the work for me.”

“Oh.” You glance at the cuffs on his wrists. “Do they not do anything then?”

“I assure you they work properly,” he sighs. “I would assume Midgardian technology is not capable of suppressing every ounce of magic I possess.”

Your finger traces an outline of his manacles on the glass, leaving smudges. “I’m so sorry.”

Loki looks at you. “It’s ancient history, Witling.”

“How can you say that? Of course it’s not!”

“I realized my father’s love was conditional very quickly, even if I did not know why. I have had a century to deal with the fallout.”

“That- doesn’t make me feel better.” You cross your arms, desperately searching for solid footing. “So you were alone?”

“No.” His voice softens. “My mother- she loved me as a mother should. I do not think I would have survived without her.”

The both of you stand quietly for a minute as your world resettles on its axis. Loki eventually rights his cot and sits down on it, waiting for you to speak first.

“I bet you’re beautiful.” He looks at you, confused. “I mean your other form- self? Carvings aren’t very detailed, most people said the Jotunn were fiercely stunning.”

“Jotunn are monsters, Witling. The things you tell your children of at night. There is nothing beautiful about me.”

“You aren’t a monster.”

“The stories would say otherwise.”

“Well then maybe the stories are wrong,” you say harshly. His eyes meet yours, vulnerable. “Because I know monsters, Loki, I have plenty of my own. You do not share their face, believe me.” He doesn’t seem to know what to make of that- he seems caught between denial and disbelief. “Tell me about your mother.”

So he does. He tells you of her never ending patience when his burgeoning magic was more hinderance than help, and how her healing hands could stitch together even the most dire of wounds. How she could rein in Odin’s temper and even change his mind in the dead of night. How she would know exactly where he would hide when he was upset, and leave a mark or sign so he would know he wasn’t alone.

With every story, his sadness seems to chip away, and his anger fades. Your heart is still crying, but you’ve at least pulled yourself together enough for the tears to dry up, and smile and encourage Loki to keep going whenever he hesitates.

Throughout it all, you murmur small thank-you’s to Frigga in the back of your mind, for carrying him through when you couldn’t.

A/N: Get it? Because they dated for like three weeks and everyone thought it was strange?

Guys. I have two chapters left. TWO. And they’re not hard chapters. So why have I been staring at them for a week not able to write either of them??? BLERGH. 

[harrimoon]

think for yourself

pair: george harrison x female reader (soulmate au as requested!) warnings: swearing and fluff! word count: 1,289

The ditties began a few years ago. Some obvious Bob Dylan ones, quite a few Beatles ones - you thought nothing of it. The tunes were harmless but you knew your soulmate had to be quite the fanatic. You had to admit they were all rather catchy. Some of these songs were ones you didn’t recognize at all and you kept those secret. Maybe your soulmate had written songs of their own. Knowing your soulmate was out there had been exciting, but the anticipation made you feel a bit uneasy.

There was one song in particular that wormed its way into your head one morning. You couldn’t figure out the lyrics at certain parts, but you soon learned the tune very well. By the evening, it became almost unbearable - and if you were given an instrument, you could probably figure out how exactly to play it, if given enough time.

That evening you were headed to a party you were invited to by your close friend. Your friend was always getting into glamorous, rockstar parties it seemed. Her venture into photography had paid off graciously. Parties weren’t always your thing, but you knew there was bound to be some interesting people to run into tonight. That and your friend dragged you along.

You donned your favorite outfit and mingled the night away, the crowd quite large - and a bit suffocating. It seemed like people just kept flowing in without ever leaving. Your friend, with a camera ’round her neck, must have introduced you to about a billion people. Some faces had you starstruck and some were less familiar. Some very sober, some stumbling and slurring their words and others completely trashed. Despite the loud music, the tune from earlier swam around in your head as you made small-talk and rubbed elbows with stars and nobodies alike. Do what you want to do, and go where you’re going to.

But before too long, you found yourself alone, your friend having run off to take photos. The party was nowhere near over, and you knew parties like these never really had an ending. Drink in hand, you made your way outside, near the steps at the front of the massive house. Whose house was this anyway?

The atmosphere became quieter and cooler with less music and chatter. The front of the house was spotty with people who were either lighting up smokes or joints. You walked to the steps, sat down and placed your drink to the side of you, a bit tired and sweaty. Not to mention that the fucking song was still stuck in your head. You drummed your fingers on your knee as you hummed it out, hoping that the sound would somehow help the tune out of your head for good. How many damn times did he sing this? you wondered.

“How d’you know that song?” someone asked from behind you. You looked up and over your shoulder to find a Beatle, with what seemed like confusion plastered all over his face. You almost couldn’t stop staring at him. George Harrison was definitely someone your friend never introduced you to. How did he look even more handsome in person? You couldn’t put your finger on it, but something about George had made your heart flutter. You quickly dismissed the feeling, simply attributing it to feeling starstruck.

“Oh, it’s been stuck in my head all day,” you answered with a bit of a nervous laugh. “Although I’m not sure where it’s from.”

But George knew exactly what song it was. In fact, they had only finished recording it today. It’s a song that’s been annoying him all day, too. His mind raced through the possibilities. Had they copied a song that someone else made? This all surely had to be some type of freak coincidence. That had to be at least part of the reason why his heart began pounding a little harder in his chest when you walked out and started singing that song. You were delightful to look at, he’d admit, but he wasn’t one to lose his cool with a pretty girl. More confusion settled in.

“We recorded that song just this morning,” George said, referring to the other Beatles. “There’s no way you would know that song.”

There was a quiet moment between you before you both seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time. George’s facial features softened and his eyebrows flew up.

“I think - and it sounds bizarre - but I think you might be m’soulmate,” he remarked, astonishment on his face as he sat down on the other side of the step.

“I-” you started, not sure where you wanted to go with it. You shook your head a bit, almost in denial regarding the words that left his mouth. That couldn’t be. You didn’t know what you’d do with a Beatle anyway, what with all the press and screaming fans. “I don’t know about that.”

The thought overwhelmed you, and you began to believe that this was only a striking coincidence. A coincidence so unbelievably freakish that you gradually began to convince yourself that maybe… just maybe this was the real deal. But do people even second-guess their soulmate? you quietly pondered.

“Well, what’s your name?” George asked, his voice gentle. The more he spoke, the more your stomach flipped - almost as if you were already smitten.

“I’m Y/N,” you replied. The chatter and yelling inside between partygoers became a little louder, mixed in with more chuckling. But you barely noticed.

“Y/N,” he softly echoed. “I think that’s a really pretty name.”

Well, he’s just pulled out all the stops, hasn’t he? It sounded as though he was a bit lost for words.

“Well, thank you. ‘George Harrison’ isn’t so bad either,” you joked before you both broke into smirks.

But things became quieter again. You watched as his deep brown eyes scanned your face. It looked like he had been just as starstruck as you. At that moment, you felt as though you were the only two in the world, the sounds of faraway chatter gradually escaping you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, quickly glancing at your lips. You said nothing. Instead, as if driven by some unknown force, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, gently cupping the side of his face. He gently placed a hand at your waist in return.

In that instant, you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, it was George. The one who’d been singing those songs that always ended up in your head. Your soulmate. What were the odds?

Your kiss dissolved into a smile as you pulled apart. You felt like you’d been kissing for ages, though it hadn’t been too long. George couldn’t help but beam back at you with the dimples and creases in his cheeks making their lovely appearances.

“Does this mean you’re the one sticking all these Bob Dylan songs in my head?” you joked, feeling all loved-up.

“Yeh, I think that’d be me.” He nodded and crinkled up his chin as you both burst into laughter. His laughter was truly something else.

“Oh, just leave it up to George to walk into a party and find his fuckin’ soulmate there,” someone quipped, pulling you out of your daze. John Lennon stood beside George, his small and round glasses neatly sitting on his hooked nose. Alongside him was your friend, camera in hand. When did they even walk over to you and George?

George looked up at John, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and giving you a squeeze. Unable to hold back a giddy grin, he glanced at you and played along.

“John, I think this might be the best party I’ve ever been to.”

[findsilver]

I am SO tired of the hypocrisy of people who hate John Lennon but are fine with the rest of the Beatles. Ringo was a raging alcoholic that smacked Mo around, George cheated on his wife and was shallow AF when it came to women, Paul was controlling with his girlfriends including making them dye their hair and then hating it afterward. Wow it's almost like they're all human and stupid. -_- It's almost like every human being on earth does bad things sometimes.

Honestly!! And I don’t like making that argument too much, but we have to take into account that times were different. It doesn’t excuse things, obviously, but if we can imagine things can be tough for people now because of preconceived expectations or ongoing traditions, imagine what it was like back in the day, when masculinity was dipped in toughness culture, mental health issues were rampantly overlooked and left untreated, emotions shoved back, and their fame grew so fast to such amounts that it must have been terribly hard to cope with the pressure. Not to mention that swinging sixties were fueled by substance abuse, a factor which is still extremely prevalent in artistic circles.

Obviously, that doesn’t exactly excuse their behaviour, but as you said, at the end of the day all of them were imperfect, all of them were human. And humans fuck up. Humans do mistakes, or hurt people, or are selfish, or act stupidly. They were put on a pedestal very young and such a thing can fuck you up in itself, especially when at your core you’re already struggling. Not one of them was perfect, and this holier than thou attitude needs to stop. Prove to me you’re without a fault and I’ll admit your right to feel entitled to cast people straight to hell. But thus far I have not met a perfect person, so this argument just dies for me.

Besides, recognizing that none of them were perfect saints, their faults are also not enough to say things like the things in those comments. What sort of person does that make you when you have no basic empathy or understanding of human nature to say things like those in that post? But John is easy to hate, I suppose, because part of his entire identity in history was being loud. The thing is, the rest had time to slowly grow from their mistakes, make new ones, grow up. Even George, though he also died far too young. John had plenty of remorse and I truly believe he wanted to do better, but his life was cut short and taken from him, and the people that loved him. To say his murderer was in the right is so vile, I cannot express it well enough.

All I can really say is that before you pass your judgement on someone, which you are entitled to do, please do research and make up your mind on your own. This is a terrible place to use for shaping your moral compass, and it’s nothing like the real world. Getting off Tumblr would do everyone a lot of good.

[la-vita-in-arancione]

Killer Queen: Chapter 7 - Bohemian Rhapsody

Summary:  Arabella Ruth White is the fifth member of the Marauders. And life at Hogwarts certainly isn’t easy. Especially when you have alcohol, relationships, unhealthy music obsessions, a fake stage persona, weird ass friends with weird ass problems and actual school all thrown into the equation. (This story is also on Wattpad and AO3 of the same name. I will always update on Wattpad first.)

A/N: Sorry I didn’t post last week even though I said I would. Half term ended up being busier than planned. We are now up to date with the Watttpad version of this story so that’s something! Enjoy!

Warning(s): swearing, mention of babies because that might be triggering for some people

Word Count: 2.6k+

Taglist: @missqueeniewrites

Ask to be on my taglist!

I don't often receive owl mail. I just don't. No idea why. My darling bastards of siblings can never be bothered to write to me, claiming that if they send me loads of letters then we'll have nothing to talk about when I get home. Which is fair enough. Even if it does seem a bit rude. But oh well. What are you going to do?

The only good thing about it, however, was that when I did get owl mail, it was always about something important. Some of my favourite letters have been from Rhea telling me that she never intended to speak to Luke ever again, only for her to reverse this statement only one day later; one from Mum telling me that the lady who owned the chippy on the pier had had a baby; and one from Luke telling me that said baby had shat on the carpet of his bedroom and that he now had to share with Rhea.

So, going by this logic, every letter I will ever get while at Hogwarts is guaranteed to be either important, amusing or both. This means it's worth my time. I reminded myself of this when I acquired my first letter of the year on a misty Friday morning which just so happened to be Halloween. As it was a Friday, I was naturally exhausted after the long week we had had (our OWLs must have been catching up with me). This was why I felt the need to remind myself that I absolutely had to read this letter. It could remodel my entire life my life for all I knew. The untidy bordering on illegible handwriting on the envelope clearly told me it was from Mum. I ripped it open and not one but two things were inside: a short letter from Mum and a small parcel which was the unmistakable size and shape of a single vinyl record.

Hello Ruth,

I actually apparated to just outside the school gates to owl this to you as it couldn't wait any longer. This morning Queen released a new single and you'll find it enclosed in the envelope. It's called Bohemian Rhapsody and the B-side is called I'm In Love With My Car. God knows what inspires them to make these songs. Steve from the record shop down the road says both songs are superb and that you'll like them if not love them. No news as to when the album is coming yet.

I hope everything's been going alright at school. How is the "project" going? Please tell me you've started by now, it's not fair on Remus to keep him waiting for this long. Sorry for not owling you sooner but to be honest, nothing much has happened in the two months you've been gone. The only thing really worth noting is that someone tried to shoplift some things from the shop so I threw a bucket and spade at them. They haven't come back since.

Luke and Rhea send their love of course, not that they would ever admit it in the presence of the other. Trixie from next door also asked me to check up on you as she hadn't seen you much all summer. I can't wait for Christmas so you can come back, thankfully it's only less than a couple of months. I'm slowly losing my mind without anyone else here to have an intelligent conversation with.

Love you lots,

Mum xxx

Fuck yes, Mum.

She is an actual savage and I love that so much. Only she would get away with throwing kids toys at thieves. Sounds like he deserved it though. What kind of crackhead would assume they could steal from my mum and get away with it. I made a promise to myself to reply to her after lessons had ended for the day.

But on a more important note. Queen released a new single.

Two new songs.

Holy shitting fuckity fuck on a crumpet.

FINALLY NEW MATERIAL.

AFTER A FUCKING YEAR.

YES.

The gods must have been smiling at me that day for this was a glory that not even Clotho could have foreseen. I unwrapped the record, more carefully this time as to not scratch it, and, true to Steve's word, there was the vinyl: Bohemian Rhapsody. Whatever the fuck that meant. Sounded pretty epic though.

"Are you OK Ruth?" Remus asked, mock concern lacing his voice. He'd given up on trying to teach us how to stay alive years ago, now he merely observed and occasionally saved our lives. Honestly, bless that boy. However, it wasn't until he had asked this question that I realised this wasn't the first time the boys had tried to get my attention since I received the letter.

"I'm fan-fucking-tastic, darling. Never been better," I grinned.

"Now here's the thing, I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not," Peter chuckled, causing me to lightly whack him around the back of the head.

"No, you bloody wanker, I am genuinely joyful."

"Well that's new," Sirius muttered, earning him also a small smack. I would never properly hit any of my friends unless they had absolutely betrayed me. Which was unlikely.

"What's so good about this letter then?" James asked earnestly, just a tad confused.

I smirked at him, "If you come and bunk this lesson with me then you'll find out."

So that's how the boys and I ended up in the Room of Requirement, listening to Queen's latest song, instead of being in Divination.

At some point during my first year, I found out about the Room of Requirement when I overheard a conversation between some 7th years. Upon discovering this, I promptly went to the room's location, wishing for a space for music. A bit vague, I must admit, but at the time, I had merely been searching for a place to keep my record player and vinyls. The room itself was not as plain as I first visualized. Many wooden, modest-sized crates and boxes filled to the brim with my records were scattered around - more of an organised mess than you might expect. Each crate was dedicated to a certain artist who I loved: Queen, Elton John, David Bowie, The Beatles, etc. My scarlet, black and gold record player sat proudly on top of a dark oak cupboard that existed for purely decorative purposes. A grand piano stood on the other side of the spacious room next to a throne of sorts that I felt was necessary to have. A crimson, old-fashioned sofa was positioned at the back of the room with an identical ivory one opposite it. Fairy lights were tangled in just about everything in the room, adding to the general aesthetic rather than any form of assistance. If anything, it was more of a nuisance but I would never sacrifice the atmosphere it presented.

The boys plonked themselves on the leather sofas as I crouched down, carefully placed the record on the turntable and adjusted the speed from the usual 33 RPM to the 45 setting. I put the needle on the rim of the record and sat cross-legged on the floor next to the speakers. I loved to have them right next to my ears whenever I listened to a record for the first time. Especially when it came to Queen – it didn't escape my attention that the sound often went from one speaker to the other. I closed my eyes softly when I heard the familiar crackle that always made me grin like an idiot. There was something about focusing on just my hearing and giving my other senses break. That was how music was supposed to be – for your ears.

Is this the real life?

Is this just fantasy?

The strong harmonies rang throughout the room, almost echoing.

Caught in a landslide

No escape from reality

Open your eyes

Look up to the skies and see

The piano started to creep in, gradually getting louder as the song progressed.

I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy

Freddie's effortlessly recognisable voice sung alone for a moment, only for the harmonies to make a comeback.

Because I'm easy come, easy go

Little high, little low

The lyrics filled both of my ears, left then right. It was so stereotypically Queen; it was like their seal, their stamp, their trademark that said 'Yeah, we did that'.

Anyway, the wind blows

Doesn't really matter to me, to me

The repetitive notes of the piano and John's wonderful bass sound played alone for a couple of bars.

Mama, just killed a man

Put a gun against his head

Pulled my trigger, now he's dead

Somewhat taken aback by the dark turn the lyrics had taken, I felt goosebumps up and down my arms as a reaction to the melancholic feel of the song.

Mama, life had just begun

But now I've gone and thrown it all away

The song as a whole rose to a crescendo. I could hear the emotion and passion in Freddie's voice – it was almost ethereal.

Mama, ooh, ooh

Didn't mean to make you cry

If I'm not back again this time tomorrow

Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters

The volume suddenly decreased. Roger's drumming became more prominent in this verse.

Too late, my time has come

Sends shivers down my spine

Body's aching all the time

Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go

Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth

Mama, ooh (anyway the wind blows) I don't want to die

I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all

The lyrics got darker if that was even possible. The clear, sharp sound of Brian's guitar solo filled every inch of the room. After about half a minute of glorious guitar, all of the instruments were cut short by quiet, staccato piano chords.

I see a little silhouette of a man

Scaramouch, Scaramouch will you do the fandango

I wasn't exactly expecting a full-on choir that was truly just Freddie, Roger and Brian's voices on top of each other, over and over again. I dreaded to imagine how long that must have taken to record.

Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening me

Galileo, Galileo, Galileo, Galileo,

Galileo Figaro magnifico

The 'Galileo's made me giggle: how the fuck could Roger sing higher than me? I understand that I'm an alto but he's a bloke!

But I'm just a poor boy, nobody loves me

He's just a poor boy from a poor family

Spare him his life from this monstrosity

Easy come easy go will you let me go

Bismillah, no we will not let you go, let him go

Bismillah, we will not let you go, let him go

Bismillah, we will not let you go, let me go

A tiny smile crept its way onto my face at hearing 'Bismillah'. It was a word that I had heard Dorcas say on numerous occasions.

Will not let you go, let me go (never)

Never let you go, let me go

Never let me go, ooh

No, no, no, no, no, no, no

Oh mama mia, mama mia, mama mia let me go

Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me

For me, for me

Roger's ridiculously high voice filled my ears once again, even higher-pitched this time around. Louder, more rock-orientated music blasted out of the speakers of the record player. I couldn't help but bang my head along to it. It was like being hypnotised; you couldn't control your movements.

So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye

So you think you can love me and leave me to die

Oh baby, can't do this to me baby

Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here

The song quietened down again, not unlike how it had been at the beginning.

Ooh yeah, ooh yeah nothing really matters

Anyone can see nothing really matters

Nothing really matters to me

Anyway, the wind blows

The last line was barely audible but fortunately, I could make out Freddie's voice from my spot next to the speakers. When I finally opened my eyes again, I could see the boys had been straining to hear it. A gong sounded throughout the room, marking the end of the song.

I glanced at the boys, wanting to observe their reactions to the near enough six-minute masterpiece we had just had the privilege of hearing.

"That was definitely worth missing Divination for," Remus chuckled and honestly, that was the best I could have ever hoped for. We spent the next 20 minutes gushing about the song and listening to it again about 2 or 3 times. Only after this did we realise that we hadn't yet listened to the B-side: I'm In Love With My Car. Unsurprisingly, it was written and sung by Roger and was indeed about him being in love with his car. Not quite sure what I was expecting if I'm honest. It turned out to actually be a brilliant song and the boys and I had a blast rocking out to it.

Suddenly I had an epiphany. That absolutely, completely, positively could not wait a moment longer.

So naturally, I had to tell the boys.

"Guys, guys, guys!" I exclaimed, everyone turning their heads to stare at me like they were a clan of meerkats, "Remember our Halloween prank tonight at dinner? Change of plan."

**********

The rest of the day was a fairly normal affair. I could hardly concentrate because my mind was buzzing with thoughts about Queen and our prank tonight. Nothing out of the ordinary then.

By the time dinner came around, the excitement was radiating off us in waves. Somehow, this was the first prank we had done all year, which was certainly saying something. Just as Dumbledore stood up from his seat to give one if his famed speeches, I tapped on the table to signify the start of the prank. Peter took his cue and murmured a charm, making all of the candles suddenly blow out and plunging the Great Hall into darkness. Hushed whispers from confused students were suddenly silenced by the sound of a microphone whistling. This meant Remus had executed his part of the plan, now it was time for James's. Being the best at Transfiguration out of all of us, his job was to transform the metal torches at the tops of the walls into various different instruments - guitars, basses, drums, pianos, gongs, wind chimes, etc. Now for my part. I charmed all of the floating pumpkins in the hall so they would sing. Which song you ask? Bohemian Rhapsody, of course, my dears. I smiled when the familiar voices of Queen echoed all around the Great Hall. Once the acapella part of the song was over, Sirius charmed the newly made instruments so they would play their respective parts when needed. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing: even in the darkness, I could make out some facial expressions that could only be described as a mixture of confusion, annoyance, glee and defeat.

The song seemed to be over before it had even begun, which was a shame. Everyone applauded as we reversed the spells and Dumbledore actually congratulated us in his speech! McGonagall, however, reprimanded us and gave us detentions for disrupting the dinner or some bullshit like that. I personally believed she secretly loved the prank. Maybe the eye roll suggested this as she trooped back to the teacher's table. Or maybe I had imagined it.

Who even knows any more?

[blackberry-gingham]

if you haven’t already, could you do something with being childhood bffs with george and it developing into romance?

Aw, this is cute 🥺 of course!

Ik I've done the teddy!george to Beatle George romance, so for this I'm going to do like actual kids to like high school/teddy! George romance :)

Also, this is super long sorry, but idk how to do a cut so oof 💀 anyway, enjoy!

---

You've known him since forever, the boy with the raven hair and funny eyebrows.

You're earliest memories go back to growing up on the streets of Liverpool. Causing trouble on the playground, getting into mischief behind your mother's backs...

He was your best friend. Still is, as a matter of fact. Until the day everything changed.

You're story starts off on a playground, during a mild day in mid August. The sun is shining brightly and the birds are chirping and flitting through the trees happily. If only you could say the same for your mood.

The old swing set creaks methodically as you and George go back and forth.

It's your last summer before your senior year of high school. You two have been going to the same school this whole time at least, but you can't help this nagging feeling that you and George are going to drift apart after school.

He's changed so much since you were kids.

Lately he's made some... other friends. It's not that that's bothering you of course. No, it's more so that they're all teddy boys. And now, so is George. Not to mention they fancy themselves a start up band, which has only been eating up more of George's time away from you.

Besides, you have no idea what to expect with this final year. Honestly, you're scared as it is, and even the thought of losing your best friend is too much to bear.

"Whatcha thinking about square?", George detects the worry undulating off of you, despite the neutral expression on your face. He knows you too well.

You snap out of your thoughts and paint a smile on your face, "Oh, nothing! Are you looking forward to your final year?"

George fixes you with a look. He doesn't believe that nothing's wrong, but knows to not push you if you don't want to talk about it. "Suppose so, although more just to get it over with. Oh, that reminds me! The lads and I have a gig lined up in a few weeks, can you believe it?"

You're heart drops, and you fear you can already feel him slipping away. "That's wonderful George, I can't believe it!"

His face lights up, "Isn't it? We're going to the top I tell you, I'm sure of it!" George digs his boots into the mulch abruptly, and you slow to a stop as well. "Um, I don't suppose you'd come to the gig, will you?"

You fix him with a suspicious look, there's something afoot here... "When and where?"

"The pub downtown, two months from tomorrow, at 3 am", George's voice gets quiter as he goes. The old him would know not to ask something like that in a million years. After all, your parents would never allow it. And if you got caught...

"George... I-"

He cuts you off, suddenly feeling bad it seems, "No no! I-it's alright, I shouldn't have asked. It's not right, you have school and all"

"So do you, ya know", you lean in and laugh a bit, trying to lighten the mood. Thankfully the tension seems to melt and George laughs, brushing off the accusation. At last he stands and offers to walk you home. You agree and take a few steps after him...

...Only to trip over an old piece of tarp sticking up from under the mulch.

You let out a yelp, but before you hit the ground, George catches you. He helps you up right and holds onto you for a moment to make sure you're steady, "That was close! You alright square?"

"Fine, thanks to you", you laugh, then kick some mulch over the exposed tarp. "Damn thing..."

George laughs and the two of you walk on, "Say, do you remember when we were kids and you fell off that same swing set?"

"Ugh, how could I forget! I still have the scar on my knee", you pout.

"Really? I didn't know it was that bad"

"It certainly was! Don't you remember, after I fell you picked me up an-"

"...Carried you all the way home?", George finishes the thought for you.

You smile distantly, reminiscing on better days. "Yeah..."

The two of you talk a bit more about your younger days. All sorts of fun and embarrassing stories come to light as you make your way through town. For a moment, you feel like you're with the old George again.

And then, it all screeches to a halt as you arrive on your doorstep.

"Well, here you are then!"

"Yeah... Um, see you tomorrow per chance?"

George's face falls, "Oh... Actually I have practice with the lads... Then I'm helping with chores around the house all this weekend. M-maybe we can hangout again next week?"

The smile you give him doesn't quite reach your eyes, even as you agree that that sounds like a good plan.

It turns out that date does get pushed back a bit more, but you're thankful to have at least one last day together before school starts up again. Things are normal for a while. Well, the new normal, that is. George tries to be in three places at once between you, the lads, and school, and you're worried for him.

You keep waiting to see which of the three he's going to drop to take a load off his schedule... And you're deathly afraid it'll be you.

But somehow he manages to juggle all three, and before you know it, the night of the gig is upon you. George brings the topic up with you momentarily at school, just to give it another try. You’ve been feeling so estranged from him lately that you want nothing more then to say yes...

You just... can’t.

George says he understands, but he can’t mask the disappointment in his eyes. It’s the last look you see from him that day. However, that night, is a different story.

Clack... Clack. Clack clack... Clack.

A strange noise rouses you from sleep and you get up to investigate. It’s coming from the window... You peak outside to find George out in your yard, throwing rocks at the glass. He sees your outline and starts waving his arms franticly. Quickly, you check the time. It’s 2:03 am.

You heft the window open and George immediately starts chattering. “Morning square! I’m on my way to the pub, I thought maybe you could just sneak out with me since you want to go!”

“Are you mad? You’ll wake the whole house!”, you whisper angrily.

George drops his voice a bit too, but refuses to leave. He says a few more suave and charming words, but more then anything, you can’t deny that you do want to go with him... It takes a little convincing, but you make up your mind to go. You disappear to throw on some going out clothes and navigate your way down out the window and over the roof. It’s a little trick you learned from when you were young.

You haven’t done that in ages...

At last, you and George race off to the bus stop and as though sneaking out past midnight wasn’t exciting enough, the way he grabbed your hand to pull you along through the dark sent your heart soaring.

And when you arrive just in the nick of time the gig to start, you almost hate to admit how much fun you’re having. To think, you almost missed this... The boys are amazing up on stage and the crowd loves them. While you must say, they are all good, you didn’t take your eyes off of George the entire time.

One of the teds, Paul you think, steps up to the mic. “Thank you, you’ve all been wonderful! But before we go, there’s one last song we want to play for you... This goes out to all the sweethearts tonight, it’s called Love me do!”

It’s not on the itinerary, but the crowd whoops and applauds regardless. You focus your attention back to George and he winks at you. In that moment, you experience a feeling you’ve never had in your life. Your blood runs cold, yet you feel on fire. Your fingers and toes tingle, yet you still have complete control over your body. You feel weightless, and yet as though you could collapse.

The song is wonderful, but you were hardly able to pay attention, you were so busy mulling over what that wink meant...

When everything is over, George hurries to catch up with you after the show. He seems so alive.

"You were amazing up there Georgie, absolutely wonderful!"

"Really? You liked it?"

"Of course! I didn't know you were so talented! Why have you never played for me before?", You laugh, but George seems to grow shy all of a sudden.

"I didn't think you were interested... But uh, now I know, I suppose!", he laughs, trying to mend the awkwardness before you can interject. "You know what? We should be getting you home, yeah?"

You whip around to look at the clock. It's nearly 4:30. When you turn back to George, he can already see the panic in your eyes. Without another word, you both race out to the bus stop and wait anxiously to catch a ride.

George tries to make a little small talk and reasure you, but you're having a hard time loosening up. All you can think about is what'll happen if you're caught...

And when you get home, your worst fears are realized. Your dad is sitting on the front porch and the lightning your room has since been turned on. George goes to hold your hand, but you nudge him away as you trudge to your doom.

Your dad doesn't say a word. You already know how much trouble you're in. He looks at George with a deadly scowl etched into his face.

"Sir, I'm sorry, it was m-"

The door slams in his face, and all George can hear is the sound of yelling from the other side as he's forced to walk away.

You're not allowed to see George outside of school for a looooong time. Which is almost fine with you. You can't believe you listened to him...

George tries to apologise to you fervently the next time he sees you, but you blow him off. It takes a few days before you speak to him again, and George feels crushed. That night couldn't have ended more terribly. There was so much he wanted to tell you... But, he can't let you go.

Over time you come around to better terms with your lifetime friend. It takes some work, but George is determined to restore your trust in him. And slowly but surely, your grievance becomes forgotten. He hasn't spend this much time with you since you were children. And honestly? He hasn't been this fun since then either...

He takes you out for ice cream on weekends. You go to the park after school together nearly everyday, that you can. And once you're officially allowed to spend time with him, he even invites you over to watch practice with the lads.

And before you know it, winter has passed and spring is nearly gone too. It's the end of the year and there's one last hurrah to come before graduation. Prom season is upon you.

You know who you want to ask you, but you fear it's too much to even hope. But then, one sunny day...

Clack... Clack. Clack clack... Clack.

Curious, you get up from your desk and wander over to the window. You throw it open and look out. There in the lawn, George stands with a large, handwritten sign above his head. He looks up at you with big, puppy eyes, and he's never been more afraid in his whole life.

Prom? The sign reads.

You scamper out of your window, and nearly trip in your excitement to say yes. George drops his sign and catches you before you hit the ground. You jump up, alight with excitement, "Yes, yes!", you can't stop bouncing, even as George holds you steady.

George smiles at you with an affection you've never seen before. He doesn't say a word. Instead, he picks you up and gives you a spin while you yelp in surprise. When he puts you back down, the two of you share a long look and you think, there's no one in the whole world you'd rather give your first kiss to.

As though he can read your mind, George leans in slowly, giving you an option. But you can't contain yourself, you rush forward and throw your arms around his leather covered shoulders. The smell of his musky hair gel and warm leather jacket wash over you as he holds you tight.

It's the kind of embrace you'd grow familiar with. You don't know it now, but you'll find yourself wrapped in it for the rest of your days.

[enz-fan]

Article by Margo Huxley - early days in Australia, 1975. 

“On stage are what appear to be seven refugees from an op shop run by a lunatic asylum. They wear suits that are too big, too small or both at once. The singer’s hair is a frizz of tangles that falls over his heavily be-rouged face. He moves like a sped up movie of Charlie Chaplin doing an imitation of Harpo Marx - or is it vice versa? He comes on with a patter that sounds like ‘Waiting for Godot’ done by a music hall M.C.

Somewhere in the shadows lurks Groucho, complete with eyebrows and moustache, playing a Gibson electric guitar. Next to him, but only briefly, stands a fellow in a baggy brown suit from the set of the Godfather - he plays bass.

Round-faced and cherubic sits the drummer, almost hidden behind his kit, but visible enough to show that his suit too is certainly somebody’s cast-off.

A resurrected James Dean, white faced and hollow-eyed in a teddy boy suit of brilliant red, the pants of which are far too long and bag around the lower part of his legs, plays acoustic, electric suitar and mandolin.

The maestro of the keyboards - synthesizer, mellotron, string synthesizer and a piano that looks like someone has taken an axe to it, (and though electric, it sounds just like the real thing) - he is resplendent in tails, almost normal except that one sleeve ends at the left elbow and the other is about a foot beyond his right hand.

Then there’s this fellow just standing there, seemingly redundant in an ill-fitting pale blue suit, his head hanging like a broken marionette. Redundant that is, until he breaks forth with a pair of spoons in his hand, playing them against his head, his feet, his knees, anywhere. The rest of the time he plays slightly pixillated triangle, xylophone, bell-tree and tambourine to mention a few. Occasionally he strides up to a microphone, any microphone, to throw in a world or two of vocals.

Suddenly the demented action stops and the whole band stands in cameo stillness for a burst of electronic sound that fills the hall.

“Who are they?” a bloke in the audience asks his mate. “Dunno” the mate replies. “I think they’re Captain Matchbox.”

WRONG! This is Split Enz and as their name implies, they hail from New Zealand. Don’t be fooled. Just because they “dress funny” doesn’t mean they are like Captain Matchbox, skyhooks or - “Anyone who compares us with Roxy Music hasn’t heard Roxy Music” says Timothy Finn, lead singer.

Neither are they like Yes, King Crimson, The Sensational Alex Harvey Band, Beefheart, Zappa, Schonbert, Cage, Al Jolson, Scott Joplin, The Goons, Marcel Marceau, Monty Python or anyone else you like to mention. But comparisons are inevitable.

Comparisons are the direction with which we chart the waters of a new experience. In Split Enz music you fill find everything: classical and neo-classical; music hall honkeytonk and sleazy vaudeville; acoustic and electronic, with a blues and a boogie thrown in here and there; good ol’ rock’n’ roll; and just when you think they’ve done it all they hit you with a piano full of cool jazz, some Gregorian chants or calypso shouts for good measure.

These analogies are only signposts; the more you hear their music, the less you need them, and the more you come to realise that Split Enz create music that is individually theirs. Their lyrics conjure up nightmare visions, obsessions with madness and the macabre, woven out of cliches that spring at you with renewed vigour; phrases such as “time to kill”, “dead to the world” suggest sinister overtomes. Lines like “just hold me down if I have a fit... I think I’ll be all right... I’ll be normal someday”, “the rats are crawling up my back, it can only mean you’re coming back” are delivered with frenetic, demented mime that is more demonic than lunatic.

Some songs perhaps threaten to fall apart at the seams as style, rhythm and reference change and pile upon one another, but for the most part each song, as each performance, is carefully arranged.

“It’s a bloody orchestra.” one innocent bystander is heard to remark. And indeed ‘orchestrated’ is a better word for the music, and ‘choreographed’ a better word for the performance.

The taped Andrews Sisters-type music at the beginning with canned applause and the announcement “... SPLIT ENZ!”, the discourse on “how to get from A to B”, walking on an invisible conveyer belt going nowhere - the whole performance is a carefully planned sequence.

But not stilted, not unspontaneous. There are always new surprises even when, at daytime gigs they dispense with make up and stage clothes and appear as their normal selves. Despite the parodies and satires implied in their music - “Spoofs” is the word Timothy Finn uses - there clings to them an aura of innocence and naivety, like a Henri Rousseau painting.

This impression persists with them off stage. They are quietly spoken and polite. although their normal dress is somewhat - uh - eccentric in these days blue jeans and T-shirts, they are not the formidably intimidating maniacs they become on stage.

Timothy Finn, whose hair is no more manageable off stage than on, does most of the talking. Eddie Rayner of the keyboards is more relaxed, with a fresh-faced charm like the captain of the school cricket.

He joined Split Enz from Space Waltz, a group in which he earned much deserved renown for his wizardry on the ivories and electronic switches.

Jonathon Michael Chunn of the bass guitar has Byronic good looks that even his stage make up cannot hide, and Wally Wilkinson, moustache free from blackening and eyebrows normal is full of witty irrelevancies.

Emlyn Crowther, the man behind the drums, looks as Welsh as his name and smiles a lot. Noel Crombie is the owner of the chattering spoons. He is also the designer and maker of costumes, silent and forlorn looking, like a lost pup. And Philip Judd is reserved, almost disdainful, and stripped of grease paint, looks more like Rudolf Valentino than James Dean – that might be something to do with the scarf knotted at his throat.

Split Enz was formed about 3 years ago, but the present line up has only been together for about 10 months and work remarkably well. Timothy Finn and Philip Judd are responsible for the genesis of the words and music which the whole group then fashion into a final stage presentation.

They don’t like to talk about ‘influences’ – “The Beatles” says Timothy Finn without so much as a bat of an eyelid. And when you think about it anyone who plays music today can’t have escaped the ubiquitous presence of the Beatles. Anyway, Split Enz have admitted to liking the Kinds and the Sensational Alex Harvey Band. You can make what you like of that. It’s not a definitive list.

Their conversation is free of swearing and they don’t smoke, but have been seen to drink a beer or two on the odd occasion. They are naturally “un-hip”. They avoid words like ‘hassle’, ‘dig’, ‘gig’ and anyone in the group who makes such a blunder is gently offered alternatives like ‘bother’, ‘appreciate’, ‘job’.

Confusion occurs about their names – again because of their desire to reject the clichés of the pop world. They decided to take their second Christian names as first names which is why if you ever come across anything written about them in New Zealand, the names won’t tally. Sometimes they themselves forget and call each other by their old names, but the error is always quickly corrected.

However, some of them nationalistically flaunt the great New Zealand ‘eh’ on the end of their sentences. “That’s a great new piano we’ve just bought, eh” – not a question, a statement. But they are dropping the tag “New Zealand’s Top Band” and such like, which, while it is undoubtedly true, is just another cliché to be avoided like the plague (whoops, sorry).

Already their stay of three weeks in Australia has been extended to six in order to record with Festival in Sydney. The album will be produced by their manager Dave Russell and the cover design by ex art student Philip Judd. Out on Mushroom, the album will be a token of Michael Gudinski’s enthusiasm for this band.

They have been deluged with work, after an initially slow start in Sydney. They are the support act for the Leo Sayer Melbourne concert and have done an ABC GTK which was an immediate success. More than 60 phone calls came in after it was shown to ask who the band were – that’s some sort of record.

Up until this Australian tour, the group has always had plenty of time to recuperate from the last job and plan and prepare the next. But they are finding the rigours of touring with jobs every day or so, and sometimes more than one a day, very wearing. Any spare energy left over from the last performance must be channelled into preparing for the one following close on its heels.

Another result of the GTK spot was an approach from an ABC producer to do the sound track for a documentary called “Ten Australians”. In particular they are to back a sequence featuring the artist Sydney Ball at work.

Their plans for the future include a return to New Zealand for a couple of months, followed by a longer sojourn in Australia (amen to that), and depending on reactions to their album they hope to go to England…

Of course such an esoteric band does not have universal appeal, and being unknown in Australia, sight unseen, it’s even harder to win hearts and minds. They have great hopes that the album, plus their shows here and a bit of media exposure will make their return to Australia somewhat easier.

They do not appeal to the younger age groups – “they are no the audience we are really aiming at”. They got a poor reception at the Melbourne Festival Hall Skyhooks concert, where they were first on. The audience didn’t know and didn’t want to. (But I seem to remember once a long time ago, Skyhooks was an “underground” band). But at the Reefer Cabaret, at Unis and the Station Hotel standing ovations are the order of the day.

“There are many ways of saying goodbye:” Timothy Finn lurches into his pitch for the final number – limbs jerking, face twitching at the mercy of some drunken puppeteer; “Goodbye, Byebye, Adieu, See you later, Au revoir…” etc. “…SO LONG FOR NOW”.

Never fear, we have not seen the last of Split Enz. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is A Good Thing.”