#he shits himself? Ringo made him do it.

[countmothra]

I think it’d be funny if Nihil just had (probably still would have) insane one sided beef with the Beatles. Like he just fucking HATES them, all four of them are his mortal enemies and they don’t know it. To the point he forbids their music in the abbey. Yellow submarine was his last straw.

[bambi-kinos]

I've heard Paul say that Linda and John have something in common. What do you think about this ? What's the difference between Paul's love for Linda and his love for John?

Paul likes people who are good at getting what they want. John had that in spades, Linda lied her way into being a photographer, even Heather Mills was good at that since she had to bounce back from losing her leg. That is probably one of the big things Linda and John had in common, they wanted to live their lives on their own terms. Paul is someone who would have lived his life completely on rails until he found John so that's a quality he would admire immensely.

I think Linda, John and Heather also did something that no one else in Paul's life was willing to do: they validated his anger. John said "your father is fucking awful let's get the fuck out of here." Linda said "your bandmates are fucking awful let's get the fuck out of here."

When it comes to Heather, there's a few articles from that era talking about how Paul is visibly angrier than usual and it brings to mind this quote from Brian:

Paul is endowed with an immense talent, he hides a great inner tenderness and a formidable sensitivity under angry outside. In my opinion, it is the one that most appeals to strangers, autograph hunters, fans and even other artists. He has a beautiful smile and a formidable enthusiasm that he uses, not to be laughed at, but because he knows that these are assets that can make people around him happy.

...Therefore, I do not take into account his mood swings and hold him in high esteem. I would not want to lose his friendship under any circumstances.” - Brian Epstein, A Cellarful of Noise, 1964.

It's interesting that Brian saw an angry outside to Paul when we would not call Paul angry. But Brian saw more than most and saw Paul's rough side and tl;dr I think that's what Brian is referencing here. I think that Heather Mills saw that in Paul and said "stop acting like you're not an angry person, why are you repressing this?"

Linda had a saying for Paul as well: "it's allowed." She didn't judge him for having feelings. When Paul was starting out with John, John didn't judge him for having feelings either.

I think the difference between Paul's love for Linda and his love for John is that Paul trusted Linda more. John was someone that Paul loved deeply but by the time Linda came along, Paul could only safely love John from a distance. The LSD hysteria, the heroine, the Yoko shit, it was all too much and Paul couldn't keep standing next to the blast furnace. Who fucking would? It's not fair but the addict's lot in life is to drive away everyone who loves them until they are alone.

Linda was someone more worldly and she already survived a failed marriage. John at that point was prone to severe mood swings and hysterical outbursts; Linda notably was not. When you're in Paul's situation and you see a sane person who isn't calling himself Jesus Christ reborn and who isn't trying to foist some weird avante garde artist on you? You cling to that lifeboat. Linda wasn't going to stab Paul in the back for money, she wasn't going to call Paul's lawyer racial slurs, she didn't bitch and whine that everyone was an evil racist that was trying to stop her from being with her twoo wuv. Linda in many ways was very similar to pre-drug addiction John Lennon: she knew what she wanted and she went after it.

Paul was able to love her up close because he trusted her more and because she demonstrated that he could trust her. Paul did love John but it was something he did at a distance which frankly was the only thing he could possibly do. John was a black hole of vanity and selfishness that was dragging everyone down with him which is why George got out while he could and Ringo made sure to live far away.

Part of John and Paul coming back together would have included John getting sober and proving that he could stay sober, that he was committed to sobriety for sobriety's sake, and that he wasn't going to go off the rails trying to sabotage Paul's career while Paul was trying to provide for his children. Otherwise Paul should have and would have kept a distance and refused to commit to anything interesting. I think Paul learned his lesson when he showed up to the Dakota and John turned him away saying "you can't just show up like its Liverpool in the 1950s."

That's another key difference between Paul loving Linda and loving John. Linda actually wanted Paul around, John didn't. Paul loved Linda actively and loved John passively.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.1

So disclaimer: I took screenshots instead of photographing my screen this time, but the quality of footage is a thousand times worse so the images are still mostly shit. But anyway, here we go :)

We're going to have to keep a tally on how many times they refer to their relationship in romantic terms. Less than a minute in, Paul has used the description, “great love affair.”

And John's right on his heels with “the sexual equivalent of . . . People in love.” So there's 2 already. Oh boy.

That opening montage of John and Paul just living for the light in each other's eyes should actually be the official music video for “I wanna hold your hand.”

Also I wonder how many songs they have about hiding. Someone's got to have a list somewhere right?

I adore the absolute lack of reaction to John manhandling Paul.

And then This Look. He's in love with him, ladies and gentlemen.

I remember seeing somewhere that this footage was literally right after they'd finished “she loves you.” Which was pretty recently after Bob Wooler, which was right after Barcelona. And if you're like me and you think that song is secretly about their relationship? If Paul's just been singing “she said you hurt her so, she almost lost her mind, but now she says she knows you're not the hurting kind. She said she loves you” at you, after all of that? Of course John's acting like a fucking puppy dog.

Poor George tally number 1

Excuse me??? John wants to live in the Beatle apartment instead of with his actual literal wife until Paul decides to move in with his girlfriend? What? He's so insane. Cynthia, you're lucky Paul's a fucking social climber.

I think it's indicative of two things that Paul said “screw secret girlfriends” while John happily went along with secret wives. One: different levels of security in masculinity (John doesn't have gay eyebrows etc) and two: different relationships. Jane and Paul's relationship was a smart career move for both of them and I think, being upper-class, and having her own career, and not being a mother, Jane was in more of a position to have a say.

Every time I watch that footage of Ken Dodd asking about their parents I physically cringe. Poor poor babies. Do your research you idiot! I don't think that ever happened again. I wonder if Brian made sure of that.

Paul literally talks like such a husband here. “We've thought about it, and probably the thing that John and I will do . . .”

Obsessed with Paul shouldering himself between George and John after George's little joke shove. It's so protective and yet so subtle. Exactly the same strong posture and easy smile as when he stepped between John and that interviewer during the Jesus scandal.

Poor George tally number 2 (you can't quite tell from the pic but John is shoving him out of the way because how dare he put his suitcase by Paul's?! That's John's suitcase's spot!!)

All the Beatles were cuddly with each other. It's one of the cutest bits about them, the puppies in a basket aspect. But I think we'll need a “noticable spacing difference” tally for this rewatch, too, and here's the first.

Paul wearing John's hat for attention and it fully and completely doing the job? They're so embarrassing!

I actually love that John's imitation of his upper-class Scottish family (which Paul can't do) is actually much more convincing than his broad Liverpudlian (which Paul nails in two variations, one based off his own family) I'm obsessed with the class dynamics between them.

Poor George tally three. He shares this one with Ringo. That moment when Paul's pretending to interview them about their purple hearts and cuts them both off with, “thank you. Mi-mister Lennon,” and John and Paul proceed to completely forget the other two exist for who knows how long – certainly longer than the videographer was willing to record.

I find John sliding into Paul's raspy “tiiight yeeeah” with his very turned on “mmmMM it's been a hard” extremely suggestive. I'm sorry but I do.

It's like he thinks if he looks away for too long he's going to disappear or something. Which. Now that I said that. Yeah. That is what it is. Poor separation-issues baby.

Ringo: Paul, you wrote a beautiful song and you sing it great. John: yeah and you're SEXY! Let's not forget that, everyone.

Am I crazy to obsess over every little musical similarity in their songs? Yes. Can I help it? No. The little “oh-oh ohoho” in the If I Fell demo is exactly the same as in Imagine and (frothing and writhing) it means something I can feel it! I just have no idea what.

I also find the lyric change from “i hope that she won't cry” to “i hope that she will cry” extremely interesting. There's always a heterosexual explanation. Trust me, the straights are the Simone Biles of mental gymnastics. But while the published lyric can be read as a man bitter toward his ex girlfriend hoping to hurt her by flaunting his new relationship, the demo version is trickier. Could it be that he doesn't want to hurt his wife's feelings by letting her know he's in love with someone else? But who else could John Lennon possibly have been in love with at the time?

“Too too much in love. Woah, too too much in love with you.” My heart

[crepesuzette2023]

Hi, lovely Crepesuzette! Thanks a lot of your inspiring blog, your fics and always helpfull #fic recs! And can I ask any recs for good fics where John in the end understend the shit he did for Paul? All of this HDYS, Melody Maker, Rolling Stone etc, which not only hurted Paul but they ruined his self-esteem and creative reputation, you know. Thanks again! Love you and want you be happy everyday like you do it for me :)

Hello there, thank you for the ask—and for your kind words. Very welcome, esp. since real life has been low grade shit these past few days.

So...your ask make me think of stories where things are not only better than they were in this (clears throat) reality as we know it: there's also a focus on mutual understanding, peace-making, forgiveness. Yes?

These came to my mind...and making this list made me realize I'm really in the mood to re-read some of them! In the 70's:

stuck inside these four walls (@monkberries). Lost Weekend. John and Paul get locked up until they resolve their shit.

i can only speak my mind (@revollver). 70's. Paul reads John's 'secret' diaries that have been leaked to the press, and understands him—and himself—better.

forth and back (@monkberries). 70's—80's. Paul and John talk through songs.

A Toot and a Snore (@glowing-gold). Lost Weekend in LA. That jam session is on the page in real time, as is their slow and hot reconciliation. Will never forget the description of moustache-Paul and his nipples, *fans self*

They Say it's Your Birthday (@ohjohnnysblog). 1979. A personal favorite. Warm, nostalgic phone sex in the spirit of peace and friendship.

Down on the Farm (RosalindBeatrice), 1974. John is exposed to Wings, Paul's family, and Paul's hotness, and realizes it's all meant to lure him back...

You Will, You Will, You Will (@eveepe). John and Paul and Linda take the plunge. Excellent tension...over the phone and in person.

February in New Orleans (@eveepe). 1975. John and May visit Paul and Linda in New Orleans. Resentment is desire's favorite costume. Everyone has a good time, 2/4 have a hard-on (I am sorry).

Adventures in Total Honesty (@merseydreams). 1975. Paul and John meet backstage, and have it out. A+ banter, and so many things I wish Paul had said. Also: sex.

The lights go down (they're back in town) (@backbenttulips). 1977. Paul and John are trapped in an elevator at the Dakota. The power goes out. John comes back to live.

Something Borrowed Something New (@inspiteallthedanger). 1979. The former Beatles meet at Pattie & Eric's wedding. Paul and John face some truths.

six hours in august (@stonedlennon). 1979. A chance meeting in NYC. The love is still there.

I Still Miss Someone/ I Know That I Miss you, but I Don't Know Where I Stand/ Close the Door Lightly When You Go (RosalindBeatrice). 1976-1979. Paul and John become lovers, but their lives have changed. John feels guilty about the past, Paul has a family...Mutual empathy is needed, and accordingly grows. But it doesn't come easy.

1980 and Onwards:

The Birthday Party (@merseydreams). John and Paul meet at Ringo's Birthday Party. Paul has had therapy, and John wears denim shorts. There is only one bed.

Free Man in Paris (@backbenttulips). John and Paul get married in Paris in '61, and get a divorce seven years later. But it's not the end.

Memory Lane (@ohjohnnysblog). Old, married John and Paul leaf through a photo album and reminisce about the past, including past lovers.

and when broken bodies are washed ashore (who am i to ask for more) (wardo_wedidit): John and Paul. Now and Then.

Bermuda (@scurator): John and Paul are grown-ups and know what they want (each other, to start with).

Take A Sad Song and Make it Better (@javelinbk). 1980. John visits Paul in 1980, and they revisit the past, including their love. But their families don't magically disappear. Also by @javelinbk: Our Version of Events (Part 1, Part 2 (in progress)). 1971. Reading fan fiction helps John and Paul realize what's happening, and what's been happening in the past.

Going Nowhere (@inspiteallthedanger). 1980; John survives the shooting and returns to England. I think of this one as 'they talk about it' fic.

Comprehensive Fix-Its:

The Contract (JP). The story of John and Paul, with a happier (though bizarre) ending, and a lot of sex (good).

i was a younger man then (now) (post hoc) (@fingersfallingupwards). The story of John and Paul à la The Time Traveller's Wife. It takes them a long time—but in the end they do understand and forgive each other.

[harrisongslimited]

George Chapter of the Day. March 13, 2024

Greetings my dear tumblr and Beatles' families! Happy to announce I'm popping a foot into the fanfiction pool and seeing 👀 what happens. Your comments are more than welcome!!

All the important stuff:

Title: I Saw Her Standing There

Story Description: John, Paul, George and Ringo meet Joie Armagh, a strong willed American girl, who influences their lives more than they wanted.

Trigger Warnings: swearing, drinking, smoking, drug references, adult situations and behavior, M/F smut, fluff, falling in love, tense arguments, angst.

**18 only please***

**This is a work of fiction. As such, it should not be read as a factual account of events or as biography. While many characters of the story bear the names of actual people, they and their actions have been imagined by the author and should be considered products of the imagination. This story is fictional and the events did not happen. It is written and re-produced here online for the purposes of entertainment only.**

Author's Note: I've noticed many fanfics have a Starrison or a McLennon flair, but this story will be M/F interactions including smut. It's just how I see them! Now if you're under 18, just move yourself right along. As I'm not there to patrol over you, just be strong and pass this up. I had to wait to read adult material and so do you!

Thank you to gif artists and photo owners.

Phew! That's over....

She was across the room from him; he could barely see her without his thick, black rimmed glasses. He felt her. Felt her as if she were standing within inches of him. His skin was hot. The light brown hair on his arms came alive – his stomach grumbled with a feral intensity.

Chapter 1

There was something about her. Something, he figured, she didn't know about yet, something she didn't know how to use – yet – but it made John Winston Lennon rearrange his slumped body to a nearly half-attentive position.

John watched her as best he could without his glasses. He was nearly blind without them, but acknowledged only to himself that he was far too vain to wear them in public. Besides, if he had to see something that important, Paul, George or Ringo would alert him. But at this moment, they were too interested in their own orbits to notice much.

She was talking to someone. Someone he didn't know – which he didn't care much about. From her body language, he could tell it was tense. She ran a hand through her short, auburn hair, and he continued to watch as she pointedly aggravated the man she was talking to.

This, to John, was great entertainment.

She turned in John's direction, although he couldn't tell if she saw him or not. It was nice she wasn't straining to scope out a look at the four of them , like they were the side-show freaks they felt like – or make a mad dash for the table to try to touch him like he was some bloody good luck charm. He liked that. Maybe she didn't give a shit who they were. THAT, he nodded to himself, would be refreshing for a fucking change.

She was, however, very pissed off at the little runt who was running the audition and had he been asked, John would have agreed with her. The whole scene was outrageously idiotic, as were their whole lives now, but he had danced with the devil and this was payback time.

The little moron in charge, whom John was introduced to but couldn't have cared less about, was a highly paid ass-kisser with a slimy handshake and badly manipulated crew cut. John might have the appearance of someone who didn't give a shit, but he took in everything. Every person, every nuance, every sight and smell and sound. Nothing got past him, unless he wanted it to. And the little California-tanned wild bird was giving it to the little pisser and John couldn't take his eyes away from her. It made him jealous and angry and aroused that she could do what he wasn't allowed to.

Brian was about to intervene, as the pisser/wild bird barney was holding up the whole show. He wanted to tell Brian to leave her alone, that she was practically giving him a hand job from across the room, but he also had an immediate urge to get the hell out of this place. He didn't like the United States. Too much fucking sunshine and not a decent cup of tea within 10,000 miles. But, as was his current circumstance, money, the promise of women and fame had too much a hold on all four of them for anyone to say "piss off" and head back home to England. Because as sure as the sun rose in the east, if one went home, they'd ALL go home.

John watched as Brian interrupted the moron and the woman of his dreams. He threw an elbow into Paul's side to wordlessly alert him to the situation. Paul lifted up his brown eyes and tried to force a smile.

"Another one?"

"No man. Totally different. She's cutting that audition manager a new asshole."

"Good. Maybe we can get the fuck out of here. I'm beginning to think I made a wrong move when I chose a band over plumber's apprentice."

John looked at Paul. "You? A plumber? I'd pay to see your ass rooting out some loo in the low rent district."

"Piss off....," he answered. "So what's going on?"

John filled him in. Ringo and George were both still half asleep, cigarettes hanging off their lower lips. No one made any attempt to pay attention when their manager approached them.

"Get those bloody fags out of your mouths," Brian said to them. "You are all clean cut, working class boys from across the pond – and well paid to act your parts. So sit up and pay attention."

John made an obscene gesture. Ringo turned his back to him continuing to smoke and George leaned forward and gazed at Brian with his middle finger slowly working its way up to his temple.

Paul, ever the diplomat, made a valiant attempt to appear slightly more involved. "Look Brian, we aren't trying to make your life hell, but this is getting out of hand. We've spent 2 hours evaluating 200 girls who want to have a role in this movie. Really, it doesn't matter. We don't even know what the movie is about. Just have that little audition manager pick out the best of the bunch and send everyone on their way."

Brian sighed and pulled up a chair. John knew they were about to be lectured from the Brian Epstein Guide to Managing a Famous British Band. John wished he could order about a dozen Scotch and Cokes and call it a day.

"Boys," he started.

Ringo, George and John turned the switches off and began cruising down the avenues of their brains. Paul pretended to listen and caught the gist of the whole thing.

They were famous. Yes, he remembered that. There were politics involved in being famous. Yes, he remembered that. It was sometimes necessary to go through these things for the publicity. Yes, he remembered that.

"Just like a politician. You have to, figuratively speaking, kiss the babies and hug the old ladies. Half these girls are daughters of Hollywood big-wigs. We can't piss them off. We must pretend we are gentlemen."

"Thank God we've had lessons...." John piped in. "Now shut the hell up and tell me who that bird is."

"Who?"

"The one who is still going off on the audition manager."

Brian turned and jumped up. "Oh shit."

John sat totally upright for the first time all day as he saw her coming towards them at a determined gait. The audition manager followed her, mumbling.

Brian was about to intercept her when John looked at him sternly. "Back off, big man. Let her have her say."

If there was one thing Brian knew, it was when to absolutely listen to John. He could manipulate the other three on an individual basis, but John alone or the 4 of them enmasse, well, that was the ballgame. He let out a heavy breath.

John stood to watch her walk towards them. He had seen plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous. He had HAD plenty of pretty girls since becoming famous, but this pissed off bird was in a class by herself. She was nothing like the girls he normally went after – nothing like the birds of his own turf. He was, at this stage of his life, attracted to "bee-bees", Beautiful, Brainless and Sexy chicks who knew better than to open their mouths for anything except a blow-job. After a brief affair consisting of plenty of sex and perhaps a late night supper or two, maybe an autograph or an album, it was less of a problem to diplomatically dump a BB than it was a hometown girl or some mate's sister.

John had his exit line and delivered it with the precision of Olivier playing Hamlet. He could conjure up this little boy lost persona, with a pained "this is going to hurt me more than it is you" look and begin his speech. "I'm SOOO sorry, but I've realized that I really DO love my wife and I don't know how to thank you for helping me see the honest truth. I have to go back to her. Your unselfishness and honesty showed me what I must do. I know you'll understand. I can't tell you what you have done for me. I will never forget you (insert name or not). "

And it worked. 99% of the time. The other 1%, Brian took care of.

All at once, she was in front of them. Directly in between Paul and George. John shifted in his chair to look at her.

"Look, I know this is all fun and games, but it's 95 degrees out there in the hallway and girls are dropping like flies. There's no water, no air. C'mon---hasn't everyone had enough?"

Brian walked over to her and extended a courtly British hand. "I'm sorry Ms. but you will have to get back into line or leave the audition. You are causing a disruption."

The young woman looked at Brian then beseechingly at the four English lads that were sitting before her. John, for once in his life, was speechless.

Paul stood and faced her. "We didn't know..." was all he could muster. She was not amused. Not amused at all with any of them. George turned his eyes toward her and remained quiet.

"Well, now you do," she said without emotion, then sighed. "Look, I know you are the biggest things to come out of England since Earl Grey, but it's really hot out there. Can you put an end to this?"

George finally spoke. "What are you doing here?"

Her brown eyes flashed at him. "Does it matter? I'm just trying to get those other girls out of the heat."

"Why do you care?" John blurted out, his cigarette smoke exiting his mouth.

She sighed and was going to speak when Brian returned with a police officer and the audition manager.

"Hold off...." John eyed him.

The police officer stared at the woman for a minute before saying, "Joie?"

She looked at him and smiled. "Yes. It's me. I'm just trying to get those girls out of the heat, Mr. Watson. Or get them some water or something. I know they are all probably daughters of movie studios, but they are melting just the same."

Officer Watson turned to Brian. "I know this girl. She doesn't mean any harm. And after all, she has a point...."

John and Brian exchanged looks. Brian knew it well.

"We will get the girls out of the heat and move this along...." He answered properly.

"Thank you." Was all she said. And she turned to leave.

She didn't give a shit that they were the Beatles. She didn't give a shit if she got a bit part in their first movie. She just didn't give a shit about them. What she cared about was 90 remaining strangers, struggling in the heat.

John was enamored.

The audition manager was sweating profusely. He was too old for this shit. He had been around the greats---Barrymore, Hepburn, Gable. These punks from somewhere in England might make every girl wet her pants, but all they were was trouble to him.

Brian pulled him aside and a plan was made to move the line of girls along so they could get a look at the Lads from Liverpool and Brian would pick the 15 or so they needed in bit parts. The others would be given a ticket to the final concert in the film. All Brian knew for sure is that there was going to be a concert at the end. And 100 seats were to be occupied by the offspring of Hollywood elites. The other seats were to be auctioned off to fans through the fan club.

This is what he knew....as the screenwriter typed away, tucked safely back in London.

"Mal...." John groused at their assistant. "get her number....."

[paulic]

Something that always bothers me is how people talk about Paul taking the role of the manager after Brian's death.

Yes, Paul took the initiative and managed a lot of the projects like MMT etc. and especially John and George were pissed off by this, but when you think about it for literally two seconds, you realize why Paul did it. He's always said how important the Beatles were to him, has called them his second family. He never expressed any interest in managing the band while Brian was still alive and after the Beatles broke up, his focus was always on making music, not the managing part of his job. Everyone makes him seem like this power hungry demon who was just waiting for his turn at the steering wheel, but there are so many things that point to him just trying to literally save what was most important to him: this band.

He's been known to throw himself into projects when grieving, mourning by not mourning. John was devastated by Brian's death and (I assume) in no fit state to think about what project would make the most money or whatever. While everyone was sitting on their asses (I know this is a mean way to put it, but I'm pissed off), Paul actually took matters into his own hands.

"He was too bossy". Was he bossy? Probably, yes. But someone fucking had to be, or the Beatles would have crashed and burned. I do understand why everyone wasn't happy with how things were going, George who already felt like the little brother who was sort of tagging along but not being taken seriously enough was obviously pissed that this "power dynamic" for lack of a better word was only increasing, and John, who had always been equal to Paul in literally anything didn't like the idea of Paul having power like that and being "above" him. But really, what would have been the better scenario? John managing the band? The same person who pissed off entire countries in like every second interview and had to make public statements and apologies about half the things he said? I think John was very smart and I find his wit and candor very endearing, but if he had been the one in charge, chances are the Beatles would have blown up. He's a fantastic artist, but not very smart about money etc etc, so not exactly the perfect fit for the role of a temporary manager. George? Perhaps he’s smarter about money (although he apparently didn’t understand the importance of paying taxes?) and publicity, but at that time he was completely infatuated with India, Hinduism and meditation and so on. I don't mean to say that was inherently bad, but I think Paul was the one with the most common sense. He knew how to charm the press to keep from getting into scandals (I mean, even when he was arrested for weed, he managed to sort of wiggle out of it. Nobody gave a shit). If Paul hadn’t been born a musical genius, I think being a manager would be a good fit for him. As for Ringo, I love the guy more than I can say but half the time in Get Back while decisions were being made he was completely zoned out, staring at walls. I honestly don't think he was very much interested in managing. So, perhaps a democratic regime where everyone gets a vote? Sure, if you want to get absolutely nothing done at all you let many people decide. I don't mean to sound like a monarchist, but I very much doubt an anarchistic management would have worked.

Now when you look at the years that came after, everyone was half in love with Allen Klein, but Paul was weary and didn't want to back down. And who turned out to be the Judas in this Bible? Allen fucking Klein. I don't mean to say Paul should have become the official manager, but I just find it baffling when people make it seem like he was trying to gain power over his best friends or whatever. There was no ideal outcome of this situation, because Brian was fucking dead. Of course it wasn't all peaches and cream. But there weren't (m)any scandals and they got a few albums done. That's, in my opinion, more than what would have happened if Paul had sat back and watched.

[eloeloanna]

Ringo's pov - what was his opinion on JP

This is for entertainment purposes only. (Don’t sue me Ringo 😂. Peace and love ☮️)

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Check my readings! here

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I think at the beginning Ringo tried to be as assertive as possible with them. He gave it all for the band, but after some time he realised that maybe he was naive, and reflected about what he had done. I think it took a lot of effort to convince himself that he was part of the group, but when he did, he felt very happy. It was like an evolution. He thought so much about this and now he felt that he was accepted. I think this was the time when he felt secure, and the time that he thought he could actually do something for himself, but it was something very messy, didn’t think very well about the details, so he felt very depressed for the outcome. I think he tried his best to be as good as possible, but he was very confused, because he thought John and Paul didn’t help him enough. What he couldn’t see, is that they made what they could with the time that they had. But Ringo didn’t understand it and just left them for some time. The cards are still telling me this story about opportunities, so I end this here.

The truth is that I don’t know very much about Ringo’s solo career, but the vibe I’ve got is that it has to be something about it.

Did Ringo know that John and Paul had “something” going on?

At the beginning, the cards start telling me about how he saw them: they were very good friends, “I can’t judge this”. But after some time he questioned their relationship. He tried very hard to “not think bad”, about their weird interactions. But It was like “maybe it’s not what I’m thinking of…maybe this is how they are: they are playful, they are just like kids”. And also it was like “but I know them! They are just two powerful people that happen to be friends” (the leader + the knight (the one that look for the messy parts).

He tried to convince himself very hard that he hadn’t had to think that kind of things. But it was hard! John and Paul would do weird shit again and Ringo was like “ok, there’s something here”. It was like he knew that the dots weren’t connecting. He also thought that If something was happening, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. It seems to me that he had asked about this to one of them or them. Or probably said it in a way that they could understand what he was talking about. The thing is, the answer that he wanted wasn’t the right one, but it was the answer that he expected. Because that meant that he was right 😢. He thought a lot about them, but this time as a couple, not as friends. He thought about how sad was the whole situation. Because he saw how they were, how they acted, and the things they could’ve done. And how impossible everything it seemed. After that, he tried to not involve himself more in the situation. He also time to time thought how they could be with women??? 😂😭. But overall he thought this was very sad and complicated.

[not-souleaterpost]

ENTP CRONA DUMP

Not going back on my word, just forgot to post a dump of "ENTP Crona" stuff I planed to just post all at once in a year, but after trying to stop doing stuff like that, I just thought I post what I had and be done with it.

, the thing even I don't really find funny, but I think I have to do it to get it out and book end it. A lot of it isn't really funny, some of it may sound a bit edgy or abrasive, but it's just in good fun, still putting it under the "keep reading thing" because of the amount and shittyness of the "content" Enjoy or yeah...sorry

ENTP Crona experiencing a soul rejection, screaming in agony because of not being able to deal with figuring out if "video games are art" or "video games aren't art" is the more contrarian oppinion at the moment

ENTP Crona reading shizophrenia symptoms on google "Wow, he is literally me"

ENTP Crona fleeing into the desert, going down a hole to cry

Ragnarok "Wait, the cow already killed Medusa a year ago, why we doing this bitch shit again?"

ENTP Crona "I posted a deliberately controversial and edgy meme into the group chat again, when they all see it, I wont be able to deal with how angry everyone will be..."

Soul: "You cant just nonstop spam shit on the internet, people will think you don't have a life"

ENTP Crona: "But I kinda don't..."

Soul: "Still writting on every single subject for 10 hours straight must be tiring and exhaustive, take a break"

ENTP Crona: "But I wrote everything in the last 5 minutes

Soul: "Heh, dont like partys either? Guess reading the room can be stressful even for somebody as cool as me sometimes-"

ENTP Crona "No, I can read it just fine, just then choose to say the thing that sets the roof on fire and regret it five seconds later.

ENTP Crona trying to figure out if Maka subscribes to the theory that Holden is a child abuser himself in "The Catcher in the Rye", only if yes, to arguee that not even the creep teacher was one and it is a misreading, and its actually about idk, read it in school so cant even come up with an explantion.

ENTP Crona trying to cheer up a crying Maka, after she got made fun of for liking bad music by Soul

"No, I like Speeding bullet 2 heaven too! Well except the Beavis and Butthead skits, even I am not that contrarian"

ENTP Crona curled up in the corner of the dark dungeon, not able to face the world, cause liking Ringo Star is to mainstream now but changing to hating him is just too painful...

ENTP Crona after everyone gets confronted with their lives just being fiction

"Well actually I prefere the anime ending"

But after mostly everyone agrees

"But, actually the manga works in a certain way afterall-"

ENTP Crona during the anime only scene where Maka and Crona talk about Maka's mom - its the same scene lol, remember those 4th wall breaking snide comments Crona barely managed to not blabber out loud lol

ENTP Crona "Marvel movies were allways bad"

Marie "Oh you aren't dumb and incompetent!"

ENTP Crona "Why did it took me 8 hours to put together the IKEA table?"

Marie "Oh dont be to hard on yourself, screwing in the table legs upside down could happen to anybody!"

Maka confronting Medusa: I'm here to save ENTP Crona and Mary!

Medusa: Nah, they both are still stuck in the maze going in circles

ENTP Crona after a tourist asks for directions in Death City: "I'll be honest, even though I am living here for years now, I myself cant deal finding my home without google maps"

ENTP Crona "I'm the Joker, baby! (Jared Leto version)"

ENTP Crona "-oh so a glorbo, or smol bean, cinamon bun is a charachter like Paulie from the Sopranos!"

ENTP Crona after trying to read "Finnegans Wake" "Damn, thats how high I still have to climb..."

ENTP Crona watching X:RA "Wow, I actually get 90 percent of the wordplay! This show is great!"

MGMT Patty : "Time to pretend..."

*ENTP Crona visualising all the different ways to take out and kill the people around*

Ragnarok "And I thought I was the psychopath! We aren't even eating souls anymore, whats guipi wrong with you?

ENTP "Grocery shopping is boring and I thought about the 3 different storys I'll never write down enough for one hour..."

ENTP Crona "-and that's why the metodology that is used to diagnose diseases by only relying on a checklist of data points that may have many different origin points is flawed

Stein "I am the doctor with 10 years experience, take your antibiotics prescription and get out!"

Stein, litting a cigarete after ENTP Crona goes out after apologising "Damn, the kid may be right, shit..."

ENTP Crona be like "Actually, I think Epstein is still alive"

ENTP Crona "Yeah Myerrs brigs and Horrorscopes are the same... Because they both actually are describing something and aren't completly wrong, if you know you know...

ENTP Crona actually getting a tatoo even though it is a stupid thing to do in general, because thats the only way to remember Maka's birthday. Cause aint nobody remembering more than 4 digits...

ENTP Crona using all experience and time to reflect, to start a dramatic uplifting speech that leads into Maka defeating the Kishin with a punch- Ah wait thats just what happened in the anime again lol

ENTP Crona: "I wore a dress for most of my life, yet that is not as embarassing as riding on an electric scooter"

ENTP Crona "Oh ofcourse I'm to scatterbrained and lazy to actually finish a webcomic, that's why I included an in universe callout by a charachter, so I will stay motivated out of spite and want of being better than those, proving the mean pixels wrong!"

ENTP Crona: -the setting being the aftermath of a nuclear testing site is a brilliant synedoche of our society pre and post world war 2, how the atomic age is nearly unrecognisable, being both so much more advanced that previous incarnations do not even look human in retrospect, while exagerating ourselfs into cartoon versions of ourselfs do to paranoia and stereotypes, shared faster and faster, that we soak up like Sponges, being the perfect worker and consumer in one - in a way thats Rock Bottom, the breakdown of communication, only restored by recognising the humanity of the other, even if they look at us with even more potent disgust than we already do.

Maka: Wait, I thought these iceberg videos were just supposed to list of fun facts and triva about Spongebob

ENTP Crona: What gave you that idea, Maka?

TERF Maka: I STILL hate J K Rowling

EC: "Borat is racist-"

M: "No the joke is that he exposes the prejudices of the common american person-"

EC "against Kazakhstanis"

M: "No no- wait... you are right..."

EC: "If MF Ghost was with the culture, it would have used Phonk instead of Eurobeat"

EC: "Where the fuck is Marioh Judah?"

*EC annoys excalibur into quitting*

EC :"Im like prince, everybody thinks In gay but actually im homophobic-"

EC: "Non-cellular phones actually had their purpose - like if somebody called them, you would either know nobody is home, or the person who answered could either inform you where the one you are calling is if you didnt reach the person or just find them - also the fact it was in the same spot ment nobody lost it and could allways find it when needed and it never ran out of battery, also-"

M: "If you don't like the phonecase I gifted you just say so...

R: "Dude, dont we still use mirrors for comunication"

EC "Think Im constrained by the limitations of canons?"

TRAD Tsubaki "Well they didn't make a sign of the cross in the church, so they kinda deserved being slayn by Ragnarok..."

M "Hey you are looking down, everything ok?

EC "Thanks for caring, but the thing is, to explain it all, all the connections and reasons and evidence would make me just look more weird and whiny, and this all, including the fact that I cant even say why I cant say without being whiny and long winged is part of it...

EC "I used trouble not descending into negative loops of self pity and disgust with myself and the world... But then I just developed a hyperfixation on not-having-hyperfixations"

???? Death: IDK

EC *reading the bible* "It even predicted people obssesing over lolcows with the whole golden calf story, damn...

EC: Rip Kissinger

EC: Slouching? No, I'm just posture-divergent

EC: I do love myself - one has to love even their biggest enemy...

EC in the future:

M: Are you really ready for children?

EC: I accidentally watched a trailer for despicable me 4, and after hearing all the pandering 80s song and repetitive family hinjix humor I just thought "Oh, how cozy would this be to watch with my Kids and Wife!"

So yeah, I CAN deal with it

[wellthatwasaletdown]

This is gonna be very long i'm sorry

I'm gonna give an unpopular opinion harry edward styles is NOT dumb not only he's actually clever but calling him dumb is stripping him away of half of his faults. That man is not stupid at all, he was clever enough at 16 on the x factor to understand that if he wanted to be noticed he needed more than his talent, that's why he started flirting with all the female contestants around his age, and no don't say it was the x factor producers who told him to do that cause there were thousands cute young boys they had no reason to pick him, it was his idea, he was clever enough once in the band to meet producers, ceos of big labels/pr marketing and lick their asses and while it's easy to figure it out who the powerful are and where the money is at it's not easy to fall into their graces it requires and understanding of who people truly are and what they want and no morals or integrity to give it to them, harries love to say how hard working he was in the band and how much he did for them so that's why he was able to sign with the best label cause they clearly saw all his effort but it's a lie he never worked in favor of the band, he went to work reunions (even when he didn't have to, cause their pr team was taking care of it, even without the others) cause he was preparing his solo career, he was clever enough to understand since day 1 that boy bands don't last forever and don't last long so they needed to be his trampoline he used them and once he got the connection he wanted he dropped them and once out he started putting himself above them, sabotaging their images and their careers making them look like fools, look at how him and his team make sure to push the narrative of niall the second best AFTER styles, the second with more commercial succes, money, ecc but always second, look how they made sure louis didn't got the rolling stones cover he wanted for his promo even if styles had nothing to promote around that time, look how he and his team made the press talk shit about liam after he said he didn't understand the way he dressed, look how they made a fool out of zayn with the ringo joke,the unprofessional one and let's not forget having a legend like stevie nicks say that his music wasn't comparable to styles. He destroyed their images cause he knew it would take consequences on their careers and he knew he needed to get rid off competions in a sneaky way cause his talent on it's own wasn't enough. He was clever enough to never deny larries rumors (unlike louis) cause he knew they brought attention to him, they made him stand out from the others and while louis looked bad cause he kept denying and getting mad at fans while being in a serious relationship with a girl, styles looked like the poor angel victim of the mean team and of louis who wasn't brave enough to stand up for their love. So no he was never dumb he was always a machiavellian manipulator and it requires brain to do that, also he was clever enough to create this image of sweet kind guy even when he was still in the band so everything shitty he says or does is blamed on his team, tickets prices? His teams fault, not refoundimg the shows while a pandemic was going on and those money could've helped this people families? His teams fault, his inability to act? He just wanted to try something new and have fun so it's his teams faul if it went bad, being a homewrecker? Olivia's fault the list goesn on and on. That man is not dumb he's cruel and ready to sell his own mother for money and fame he knows what he's doing constantly he's not the puppet many think he is, he might not be the most cultured person in the industry but culture doens't make you clever it just make you cultured, everything is 100% his fault all the time, not his team, not the azoff, HIS.

You are giving him way more credit than he actually deserves. Yes, it's his fault in the sense that he has free will, but you're acting like he wasn't being advised along the way, especially early in his career.

Is he extremely ambitious? Yes, he absolutely is, and the people in the right positions of power saw that and used it to both their advantages. He shared in the blame, but he's not this brilliant mastermind. He was an ambitious kid willing to do whatever it took to be famous. And now he is an ambitious man willing to do whatever it takes to be famous.

And, as I have said countless times, both parties are to blame in an affair, so it wasn't just Olivia's fault. They are equally at fault. She's not innocent in this.

[cellarfulofnose]

don't think twice, it's all right

@smallsnzplz prompt #3. Sooner or later, one of us must know...

"No, hey, listen, I can beat that, hang on."

John didn't realize he'd tuned out until Bob lightly shook his shoulder. He tried to focus, but they were in a thick haze. Smoke and drink and possibly a pill or two; John couldn't remember which kind or how many. Once they had sunk to the kitchen floor, communing with the tile, someone brought up sex, and whether they were getting any. There was a brief gripe over their current dry spell, but they quickly began trading war stories. Back in America, there was this girl...Back in Hamburg, there were these two birds... It didn't make John's head any less fuzzy, being randy as a bull as well as stoned, but he kept upping the ante. For each of Bob's escapades, he had one to top it. Some, even, were true.

But now the ball was in Bob's court again. "John. You listening?"

John kneaded at his eyes with a rumbling hum. "I'm still here, Bobby," he said somewhat reticently.

"Oh, there was this one chick, man." Without looking, John could hear the grin in Bob's voice. "This girl...hey, she woulda loved you, too."

John turned with a smile--perhaps this was worth a look. "Well, she's only human."

"Yeah, she's real keen on us 'Caesar of Rome' types," Bob explained, tracing a line down the bridge of his nose.

John scoffed. "Long noses?" He almost hesitated to ask. God knew he'd heard enough of that from Ringo over the years: these girls are going to kill me, John, this one actually wanted to sit on my--

"Yeah, but I mean, aquiline, you know?" Bob gestured again, as if to convey the shape of an eagle's beak, and chuckled. "I ought to thank you, really, you broke me in easy."

"Thank me?"

"Yeah, she wanted me to..." Bob giggled, but he gathered himself up long enough to get out, "She got off on makin' me sneeze."

"Hmm." John answered without really hearing. But in a matter of seconds, the words sank in, and a lightning stab of excitement snapped him back to the present moment. He shook his head, half sobered up, blinking as if to clear his vision. "She what?"

Still fighting a fit of giggles, Bob nodded. "She's got a whole thing for it. Gets her goin'. I thought it was about the funniest thing, because she brought up all that shit you showed me--with the tissue?" He twisted his hand beside his nose. "Remember? And the cotton swab."

John swallowed. Fucking small world, this. "Rings a bell."

"Yeah, well, she got me to sneeze that way. And she was good at it, too, I mean, she wouldn't let up, just unbelievable. But I'd already had some practice with you, so it wasn't so bad," Bob finished, laughing lightly, happily oblivious to the weight of what he'd just said.

John, despite himself, was finding it difficult to speak. If Paul were here...Now his thoughts were getting away from him. "But it didn't put you off?" he asked, before they could wander off for good.

"Put me off?" Bob sounded bewildered. "What do you mean, put me off? I loved it. And it got her so hot, John..." His voice changed, got lower and slower, as he leaned in, one hand on John's arm. Dead serious. "I'd sneeze and she'd just get this look, like she was gonna go all to pieces, you wouldn't even believe it..."

"A good fuck, then?" John kept talking, joking to quiet his head, but it was no use. His runaway thoughts, without his permission, had led him to his most reprehensible idea yet. He pushed it away. It wasn't worth spending time on, nor the trouble that was sure to come with it.

"Jesus." Bob collapsed his face into his hands and rocked to the side, letting his weight rest on John for a moment. "Best lay I've ever had. She was wild. I made her come just from touchin' her, just barely nothin'. And by the time I really fucked her--" he whistled, "she woulda done anything, man. I never saw a chick get like that before."

Speak for yourself, John didn't say. What came out instead, bypassing his brain by way of his cock, was: "Anything."

"Felt good, too. Shit." Bob lifted his head from his hands. He continued as if he hadn't heard John, his face split in a dopey grin, eyes half shut, miles deep in a daydream. "You ever sneeze right as you're just about to get off? Whew. Feels like dying and being born."

"Can't say I've had the pleasure," John lied. "So you'd..." Something pulled at his clothes, and he started, but it was only Bob, playing absent-mindedly with the lapels of John's jacket, running his long fingernails over the corduroy furrows. John responded almost automatically with a gentle hand on Bob's wrist, joining him in play. "You'd do it again, then?"

Bob shook his head. "God. Would I. Given half the chance. Just...somethin' different about it, I don't know." He chuckled. "Don't exactly see the chicks linin' up to--"

"I know someone who would." It was out before John could tell himself not to, and straight away his mouth went dry. There was no way he could tell Bob. Yet the thrill that leapt in his chest to hear himself even hint at the truth was too much. He couldn't back out. It was too late.

"Oh, you do, huh?" Bob was Cheshire-cat grinning. "Did you keep her number?"

"Hardly needed to, did I? When I could just ask Paul." Shit. That was a step too far, wasn't it? John prayed Bob wouldn't make the leap. Surely there was another way that could be construed. Maybe he'd think he meant--

"Ask...ask Paul?" At first, Bob couldn't make sense of it. "What, like...Oh, don't tell me."

John's heart dropped heavily into his stomach, but Bob said, "Not Paul's girl, too? The redhead? Jesus Christ, man, she must be about the luckiest chick on the planet. Can you imagine that? All she's gotta do is pet a cat and he's sneezing for a good...a good hour, something like that. Oh, I bet you he gets her so worked up. Shit, I'd love to see that."

John bit his lip to avoid breaking out in bewildered, relieved laughter. Bob was often right on the mark, but when he missed it...boy, did he. "It's not Jane. I meant..." John stalled. The words wouldn't come. He'd really painted himself into a corner, hadn't he? He didn't see any other way out.

Bob was still messing with his jacket, scratching and tracing thoughtlessly. John swallowed. "Only I, I wouldn't mind, you know."

For a crushing moment, Bob was quiet. Then he scoffed. "You don't mean that."

"I swear."

"You just--you've got this notion that I'm gonna put you on to a good thing." As he spoke, Bob jabbed an accusing finger into John's chest, but without any bite behind it. "That's all this is. You've got...misplaced notions. Huh, John?" He was smiling, not looking scornful. Amused, maybe; flattered, even.

"Well." John wet his lips. "It's a bit more complicated than that."

"Yeah, well. Why don't you simplify it for me?"

John made his face placid. He felt keenly aware of where their hands were still touching. "You know Paul and I are. Involved."

"In love?"

"I said, 'involved'."

"Oh." Bob smirked. "Yeah, I figured."

"Right." It was deeply unfair how caught John felt, more so than at the prospect of outing Paul's unusual interest. Somehow, though, he soldiered on. "But our Paul, he's...well, he's a bit mad for you, really." Earlier, he'd been holding Bob's wrist, lightly saying hello as Bob explored his jacket. Now, though, he pressed his palm flat over Bob's, cupping him to his chest, right over his heart. Even through Bob's hand, John could feel how it raced.

If Bob wanted to say something just then, it couldn't escape his lips, tightly pursed to squash a smile. John gave Bob's hand a squeeze, stroked it with his thumb, and continued. "You should hear the way he goes on about you. Makes me wonder."

Bob sighed, quick and tight like a breathless laugh. "Don't worry, Johnny, I'm not about to run off with him." He sounded cavalier, but he was looking down, doing nothing to hide his smile, unconsciously palming John's chest.

"Oh, I'm a jealous man, but I'm not unreasonable. I see what he sees in you." John began to push, just barely, guiding Bob's hand down at a glacier's pace. "I've half a mind to give him what he wants--long as I'm there to see it, of course."

"John, man, your heart's goin'..." Bob's hand had only just cleared John's ribs when he pulled back. But instead of separating, Bob sidled up to John and pressed the side of his head against John's chest, with his ear over his heart.

John's skin warmed all over, but he felt as though he might shiver. He clutched Bob's head and took a deep breath. "That's an open invitation." He could hear his heart thudding, now, too. He could only imagine what Bob must have heard.

As if on cue, Bob angled his head to listen better. "Wow. You're not kiddin', are you? You really want..." He trailed off.

"Yeah. Yes." John nodded, helpless not to even though Bob couldn't see. "But...there's a catch--"

"Hey." Bob beckoned lazily with one hand. "Hey, John. C'mere a minute."

John looked down as Bob gathered a fistful of his shirt and pulled slowly, dragging him down to eye level. His eyes were the color of a robin's egg.

Bob pulled once more, and the breath kicked out of John's chest. He shut his eyes just as their lips joined in a smoky kiss.

---

"Dylan wants me to watch you two fuck."

John had spent the previous night at Bob's place. They didn't get up to anything, too tired even to neck for more than a few minutes before they dragged themselves onto the carpet to sleep. He'd slipped out in the morning to meet Paul, leaving Bob still curled up against an ottoman. He and Paul had passed a normal day together, getting stoned, fiddling with writing, not committing anything to tape. All the while, John was ruminating over how to break the good news to Paul (and it was good news, he kept reminding himself, nothing less than one of Paul's fantasies come to life).

Yet for some reason, he just couldn't say it. At first he reasoned that he'd better get Paul in a good mood before dropping a bombshell of this caliber, but as the day went by, he realized he was stalling. Nervous. For what? It didn't make sense. Paul should be the nervous one--or, really, if anyone was to be nervous it should be Dylan, but of course he'd been cool as glass when John surrendered the details of his idea. Finally, John decided just to open with the most shocking part. Door-in-the-face. Get it out of the way.

Paul stared. He blinked so many times John was worried he'd have to repeat himself, but then he asked, "When?"

John had to take a moment to recover from that one. At least Bob had the decency to give the appearance of humility, coyly insisting that there must be some mistake, he couldn't possibly want him. No such urge existed in Paul. And he might have pretended to hand-wring over fidelity, tearfully swear he wanted John and only John forever, but that was a pipe dream, too. Oh, John could have pitched a fit, and on another day he might've done, but today, he felt the need to get to the point. He told Paul about the girl, her exotic tastes. How eager Bob was to re-create the experience, but for want of a willing participant.

"He wants to do it with you," John finished.

Paul became very quiet. After a long pause, he said in a clipped tone that John hadn't answered his question. John was a little taken aback. He floated the potential date he and Bob had talked about, but that seemed to have been the wrong thing to say. Paul snapped that John had betrayed his trust (again, he kept saying, again), that he had no right to be telling Dylan his most intimate secrets. He got quieter and quieter until John was sure he was ready to cry.

"I told him it was my kink," John blurted, after trying to interrupt several times. "Not yours."

Paul looked exhausted, and utterly lost. "What?"

"Look. No secrets. All right?" John spread his hands out, trying not to sound like he was crying wolf. "I'm not keeping anything from you."

He told Paul everything.

"With Paul, he's...he's very neat, see. Hates mess."

"Well, then he's gonna hate this, man. That'd be tantamount to torture, havin' somebody sneeze all over you."

"Aye, there's the fucking rub, innit? I love seeing him like that. When he's squirming like mad, but he grits his teeth and he does it just 'cause I asked him to. And you know he loves it. Pushin' his limits for me, showing me how good he can be. Can't get enough of it. He's dead easy, is Paul."

"Jesus Christ, what a...what a cheap date, huh? God, you two are somethin'."

John left out the cheap date part, but once he'd finished the rest of the story, Paul's eyes had gone big and round. John shrugged: Well?

Paul scratched his face. "So I've got to pretend to be..."

"Disgusted," John finished for Paul when he took too long searching for the right word.

Paul raised his eyebrows, somewhat defiantly. "Like any normal person would be."

If that was a line, John thought it best not to bite. He kept his tone and expression even. "Think you can do that?"

Paul shifted, crossed and uncrossed his legs. "Yeah. 'Course," he said with his thumbnail in his mouth. He'd gone from icy to twitchy, as if it had just broken through that this was actually going to happen and his nerves were already settling in. John wasn't worried. It was a performance, and if Paul was built to do anything it was perform.

Still... "You sure?"

"Yeah." Paul frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

John shook his head, his face tactless; I don't know, you tell me. "Well, it's one thing to try and play it cool when you're ten feet apart in his flat. With your clothes on."

"I was fine," Paul quickly said.

"And when he's on the ground with your cock in his mouth?" John fired back. "You'll be fine, will you? When he sneezes so hard he drives his head down and chokes on you? And then again when your cock tickles the roof of his mouth, you'll be fine then?"

For a brief moment, Paul looked ready to burst into flames. Nostrils flared, eyes shining. But he slammed his lips shut, wrinkled his nose and frowned, even pulled his head back a bit. "That's bloody disgusting," he spat, the same cant in his eyebrows and quirk on his lips that he got whenever he was asked to read lines for a camera.

John took a deep breath. "We'll work on it."

---

Bob arrived at Cavendish straight from a show. John had to admit, he'd looked better.

It was dark outside when he rang the doorbell, looking like the wind had blown him onto the doorstep, swimming in an angular woolen suit, the bags under his eyes heavy and stark. He said nothing, but gave a weak smile when John opened the door.

"Sorry, we've no room at the inn," John said brusquely, and that got Bob smiling enough for John to throw an arm round him and herd him inside.

When they entered the front room, Paul stubbed out his cigarette--he'd practically burned through a carton waiting for Bob to arrive. "All right, Bob?" he called brightly.

"Hey, Paul," Bob rasped. His voice was gravelly, more so than usual. It stung John's throat to hear, but only because he knew the feeling so well, the soreness of having screamed yourself hoarse onstage. At least when John did it, he only had to match half of Paul's volume. Bob's voice must have been double-wrecked, then, from being the only fucker singing at any given time.

Paul heard it too; John could see it on his face, which didn't bode well for the rest of the evening. But Paul deliberately avoided eye contact with John and coolly asked, "How was the show?"

"Terrible, oh, it was terrible." Bob dropped like a bag of rocks onto the sofa next to Paul, tiredly rubbing his face with one hand.

John sat in the armchair, kitty-corner to Paul and Bob. "They give you trouble?"

"They wouldn't stop booing me, man. I couldn't hear the band."

"Philistines," John sneered, just as Paul said, "Oh, all Brits are rubes, you know, we wouldn't know a real act if it bit us." In response to that, John clacked his teeth together, snapping his jaws like a crocodile. Paul ignored him.

"Ah, it's all bullshit anyway, that audience stuff," Bob said dismissively. "But next time I'm gonna boo back."

John flipped the V and hissed, and that made both of them laugh. But when they caught their breath, a silence fell that was just a bit too strained for John's liking. Everyone seemed to be waiting. Bob rubbed his eyes.

God. It always had to be him, didn't it? "Paul."

Paul straightened, and John said, "Get the man a drink."

Paul was on his feet in an instant. He seemed to realize a moment later how eager he'd been, the puppylike enthusiasm in his obedience, because he turned and gave them a stiff bow before he left the room: See, it's all a joke.

"It's so hard to find good staff in London," John lamented once Paul had disappeared.

"No, I like him, he's good," Bob chuckled. "You keep him."

"You think so?"

At that moment, Paul came back in, laden with glasses of whiskey and wine. "Oh, I think so," Bob grinned, and with a funny twinge in his stomach, John realized his unique position in this little dance. Whatever Bob and Paul thought of each other after tonight reflected back on him. He was the ringmaster, the matchmaker.

John reached for wine, but decided on whiskey instead. Paul sat. They drank.

Bob did most of the talking. Not all of his shows, as it turned out, were disasters. Only the other night, he'd played for an audience who cheered and were silent at all the right times (though, he claimed, they were mostly French and didn't understand what he was singing, which was almost worse). Paul shared a few anecdotes about some of their wilder crowds. He didn't so much as stammer as he refilled everyone's glass and kept easy attention on Dylan. John found himself listening intently to stories he'd heard a hundred times, never mind been there for, and he began to suspect Bob was right. About keeping Paul around, that is.

At some point, John saw Bob's hand resting in Paul's upper thigh with no memory of seeing him put it there. His pulse spiked, adrenaline cutting through the foggy balm of the drinks. It was no absent-minded fidget, but a gentle, deliberate hold.

As if he felt John staring, Paul turned to meet his gaze. He studied John's eyes for a moment, then hooked his ankle behind John's, nestling their shins together.

John's head spun. There'd been something coiling in his chest earlier, some strange possessive urge that rankled to see Bob and Paul touching each other. That was gone now. He wanted them to get on exceptionally, blisteringly well with each other, and he didn't want to miss a moment of it.

Bob laughed while sipping wine and spluttered out a few drops of red. He was laughing too hard to recover, so Paul reached over and thumbed the spilled wine off Bob's chin. He popped his thumb in his mouth to clean it; waste not, want not. God only knew what possessed him to give a little hum of satisfaction after that, as indulgent as if the wine were honey.

It didn't go unnoticed. "Thanks," said Bob. "It's good, isn't it?"

Paul nodded, looking slightly guilty, little Jack Horner caught with his thumb in the pie. "It's good."

John thought he might sweat through his jacket if they sat here any longer. Then Bob said, "Hey, I've never been here before. Where's the bedroom?"

"Just--down..."

John sprang to his feet before Paul could finish giving directions. "This way," he panted, and the other two followed.

He swore he'd only counted one breath before they were piling into Paul's room. The jostled each other in the doorway, someone muttered "Sorry" as they nudged through the bottleneck, and then at once Bob was kissing John, as chapped and smoky as he'd been the first time. John tried to let himself melt into it, just for a second.

Bob tilted his mouth away to murmur "Oh, fuck," all soft and sweet, and John realized Paul had pressed into Bob from the back to kiss his neck. The sight and sound pushed every thought out of John's mind, and they continued like that for a while, John at Bob's lips and Paul at his pulse, until Paul stepped back with a rustle of fabric.

John opened his eyes. Paul had stripped to his shorts and was working on getting his socks off. He was so beautiful, dark-haired and open-mouthed, his chest splashed with pink from the wine and the kiss.

Bob started to palm John through his jeans, clumsy but sure. John gasped. "Wait, it--" he took half a step back, separating them. "It's you and him now." With a hand on Bob's shoulder, he turned him to face Paul. It was what they had agreed. He was just here to watch.

And to direct. "Sit down," John said softly, and Paul perched on the edge of the bed.

Geneva. That was the word that would end the whole session, no questions asked, if spoken. John tried to keep it at the front of his mind, but it was getting harder to hold on to rational thought. Bob, too, seemed to lose some of his faculties at the sight of Paul. For all John knew, he could've been star-struck, unwilling to believe this was the same man he'd met just under a year ago. "Go on," he said with a hand at Bob's back.

Bob shambled forward, and by the way Paul bit his lip and flushed, John could guess Bob sported a sheepish grin. John smiled, safely unseen. He dragged a chair from the dresser to the middle of the room and sat.

Paul sighed heavily through his nose when Bob planted his hands on the bed and leaned down to kiss him. John stirred--not jealousy, not envy, but a fierce desire to move in as close to them as he could, to watch every fleeting touch transpire between them. He almost sighed with relief when Bob lowered to his knees, giving John an unobstructed view of Paul's face. Paul looked rumpled, already out of breath, his lips ruby from a good thorough kiss. His eyes darted down, but Bob was already standing again for some reason, as if he'd changed his mind.

John watched as Bob strode to the head of the bed. He was at a total loss until Bob reached over to the nightstand and ripped a tissue from the box.

"Can you get me started, John?" Bob asked, offering the sheet with a bashful smile. "I'm a little out of practice."

John blanched. Somehow amidst the wining and dining, he'd forgotten the hinge, the crux of this whole event. Judging by Paul's deer-in-the-headlights look, he had too, for a moment.

...He'd let his guard down. Perfect. John held out his hand, grinning ear to ear. "My pleasure."

As John twisted one corner into a wicked point, Bob bent down and began another story. "You know, I had to sneeze tonight, on stage. I dunno if it's the lights, or what, but..." he laughed. "I couldn't get my harmonica off. It was terrible. They were jeerin' me so bad. Someone, some--kgh--!" Bob twitched, sputtering out a cough, as John teased the paper into his nostril and gave a lazy swirl.

"You were saying?" John prompted, circling as slowly as he thought he could get away with, the other hand cradling Bob's chin. He stole a glance at Paul, who was running his fingertips over his lips. John raised his eyebrows once, suggestively, and looked back down.

Bob coughed. His expression was pinched, his lashes starting to darken with tears. "Someone's--Jesus--I hear someone going, 'Thahhh's...huh-! ohh...hh-...hhh--!" Bob's mouth fell open, trying to drink little sips of air, and John would've been forgiven for thinking he was on the edge of pleasure. He looked so blissed-out, yet so wanting; it was very Zen, John thought, to be so visibly caught at the crossroads of desire and suffering. He'd have to share that one with...ah, no, he couldn't tell George that.

Just then, Bob sighed thickly, having slipped the clutches of a sneeze. He sniffled a few times, as if to get his bearings, before he spoke. "They're goin', 'That's the best sound that's come outta you tonight!'" He laughed lightly, which made him sniffle again, and shot John a glare. "Hey, come on, quit teasin' me, John. I can't stomach it."

Without a word, John twisted his wrist and swirled, letting Bob feel the tissue's point properly this time.

Bob cried out and started coughing again. "Mother--fucker--that t-tickles," he managed.

John's eyes flicked up at a sudden movement--Paul was taking his hand out of his waistband. His cheeks were bright red. When he realized he was being observed, he shut his mouth and his face smoothed over a little.

John would've stared at him for an hour or two longer, but Bob gave a particularly vocal gasp. "Why don't you sneeze, then?" John asked, spurred on by an instinct he couldn't name.

Bob nodded, causing him to cringe and start gasping again. "I am...ahhh- hhh'm gonna--! ...htCch'uh!" The first sneeze had no kick to it; it was auxiliary, just to break the levee. Immediately, his lungs filled again, and he shivered out two proper sneezes. "hhhzzsch'ue! --hhih'SsChh!"

Despite himself, John jumped the tiniest bit--just from the sudden shock of spray hitting his hand, of course. He snuck a look across the room. Paul appeared--to his credit--almost bored. He blinked and rolled his eyes heavenward, his lips twisted as his tongue worked the inside of his cheek. One hand tapped incessantly on his knee. John knew the act well. He wasn't feigning disinterest; he was annoyed with himself, and only a few nudges away from biting down on something. Something about that, to John, didn't scream just fine.

"Bless you," John said with an affectionate tap under Bob's chin.

Bob swallowed and groaned, blinking away gauzy tears. "Ugh. Thank you."

John's gaze lingered a moment longer before he raised his voice to address Paul. "What, were you brought up in a barn, McCartney?"

Paul froze, petrified and utterly clueless, so John nodded down at Bob. A grudging understanding washed over Paul. "Bless--" His voice failed. He tried again. "Bless you, Bobby."

"Oh." Bob glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "Thanks."

"There, now, that's better. I shouldn't have to remind you. We have a guest, after all." John didn't smile. He didn't need to. Paul's jaw was already tensing, like he was chewing on saying something. "Got to keep up appearances," John added, "haven't we?"

Paul's head tilted slightly, and his eyes might've narrowed, John couldn't swear from here. "Yes," he said flatly. "We have."

This time, John did smile. "Go on," he said to Bob, raising his chin toward Paul. "Till he gets it down."

"Happy to." Bob accepted the tissue from John and mopped at his nose with the non-twisted end. "I think I got it from here. Just had to...give me a little push." He grinned back at John as he sank to the floor before Paul's feet. Paul was breathing faster than usual, and blinking often, but otherwise he was impressively pacific. The only clue as to his true feelings was the rose-petal flush that dappled his chest. To John's eye, he wasn't even visibly hard. He'd tucked his thighs together just so, a skill learned out of necessity, prominent in the public eye as they were. But between those shapely legs, John knew, hid a throbber for the history books, and they'd only just begun.

Without much ceremony, Bob stuck the tissue's point up his nose. As if to prove to John that he could keep his cool, Paul worked a hand into Bob's curls, easing his head just slightly closer. He didn't look at John.

Bob made a sound of surprise. "Shit. Sorry," he added with a faint laugh. "I just. Snff. I never saw a better pair of legs on a chhick...yyyshh'ew!"

The sneeze seemed to catch them all by surprise. John blurted, "Bloody hell," and despite tensing conspicuously, Paul managed to offer a curt, "Bless you."

"God." Bob blew his nose lightly, but for some reason, he didn't elect to tear a fresh tissue. "Came up on me quicker than I thought. I guess I am pretty good at this. Hey, John?" he chuckled, twisting a new corner into a point.

John fought a smile. "Y'know how you get to Carnegie Hall, don't you?"

Paul's lips pressed thin. His shoulders gave a small jolt--he was swallowing a laugh. Victory burned John's cheeks.

"Man, ain't that the truth. Never thought I'd get the hang of this," said Bob, and stuck the tissue in his nose again. Right away, his breath came slow and heavy. "C'mon--let me..." he panted, easing Paul's knees apart with his free hand.

Paul's mouth dropped open, and he quickly pressed his palm over it, looking in need of a full-body shiver when Bob's hand slid up his thigh. There was no way to hide how shamefully hard he was now.

John swallowed--twice--and thought, fuck it. He rose from his chair and sat next to Paul on the bed, unfastening his belt as he went. All the acknowledgement he got was a brief moment of eye contact and a helpless little head-shake from Paul: Jesus fucking Christ, John.

Bob was too busy tempting a sneeze, and admiring Paul's legs, to notice. (His eyes were only half open, anyway.) "Did...did...did you get these--hhh'in-insured?" he asked haltingly, a faint smile playing at his lips.

"Aye, pretty fucking penny, too," John muttered. He didn't care if anyone but Paul heard him. Biting his lip to avoid gasping obscenely, he unzipped and wet the head of his cock with the dew pearling at the tip.

The memory of last time still fresh in his mind, Bob seemed to be over-cautiously slow at what he was doing, to the point that it didn't seem to be working. "Fuckin'--shit," he spat between ragged gasps. He tilted his head as if that would get him any closer, as if he could reach the tissue further in.

John's thumb slicked over the end of his cock again, and he nearly bit his tongue. "Faster," he hissed.

Bob quickened his pace and winced, hard. He didn't even have time to swear before he sucked in a stuttering breath and sneezed down at Paul's lap. Paul covered his mouth as Bob croaked something inaudible, gasped, and sneezed again, painting the tops of Paul's thighs.

"Holy Mary." John was so focused on stroking slowly and not fucking into his fist, he didn't notice Paul had stayed silent.

Paul's hand fell from his mouth. His eyes met John's by mistake and went from half-lidded to wide open. He sighed, as if out of breath, and choked out "Blessyou."

"Can't fucking count?" said John, a bit harsher than he needed to.

Paul glared. "Bless you," he added through gritted teeth.

Bob's breath caught once more, and they both flinched, but he let out a long, defeated exhale and sniffled miserably. "This thing's kaput, man," he said, casting aside the tissue with disdain. He leaned over to snatch another one, giving John just enough time to share a look with Paul. Paul looked strung out, his hair somehow out of place. When his eyes came into focus, his brow creased and he shook his head once, barely noticeable. Mouthed, 'M fine.

John rather hoped he would say that. "Bobby."

"Huh," Bob replied after a moment, his voice deadened by congestion. He slid back into place between Paul's knees and turned blearily to John.

"Need to blow your nose?"

"Yeah," Bob sighed, a hint of a laugh in it. "Good guess." He tented the tissue over his nose and began to breathe in.

"Stop--wait," John said.

Bob frowned curiously over the edge of the sheet.

John cleared his throat. His words tumbled out with a slight waver. "That's crap. Don't use that. Too rough, you'll rub the skin all raw. Got something softer for you. Haven't we, Paul? For our guest."

Paul looked at him fit to kill.

"Take your pretty knickers off," said John.

Something went through Paul's face, a twinge of nondescript emotion, a slight tremble in his jaw. But he only hesitated a moment before lifting his hips to slide his shorts down and off his ankle. Wet? They were soaked to partial sheerness in the front, bless him. Best of all, he needed no direction to hand them over to Bob, who buried his nose in them right away.

"Thank you," he lowed, muffled. "Oh, Jesus, these are soft."

"My best pair, so." Paul must have felt the sudden and wonderful need to act. He'd managed to pull an expression of mild discomfort--John thought it looked more like confusion than disgust, but Christ, what a show. "You know. Be care--" His monologue cut off when Bob blew his nose mightily into the cloth. Paul colored deeply and finished, "Careful with 'em."

Bob nodded but gave no other indication that he'd heard. He exhaled again with even more force, then stopped--inhaled--and convulsed with a wretched sneeze. Paul looked as if he might pass out. He dragged both hands down his face and huffed a sigh.

"Mother a' God," Bob groaned, before giving a final sinus-clearing blow. "Somethin' in the air in here, shit." He was smiling dazedly when he emerged, and God, if John thought he looked awful before...

"Wish I could take credit," John breathed. When he saw Paul roll his eyes, something occurred to him--Paul hadn't said 'bless you'. That wouldn't do at all.

"Oh, no, you're--you've done more than enough, John," Bob laughed. "Hang on, I gotta get..." He dropped the shorts and went for another tissue.

John leaned close to Paul. "Put them back on."

Paul huffed in disbelief, revulsion--and something else--on his face. "You're touched."

John tutted. "Mustn't forget our manners. And not in front of company."

At that moment, company returned to the floor between Paul's legs. With a firm edge, John said, "Put them back on."

Like a good host, Paul did. He couldn't stop himself from shuddering a bit (it must have been cold, John realized, never mind Paul's own hang-ups, and he cringed in sympathy).

Bob must have noticed. "Hey, it's all right, I took good care of them," he grinned. "I know what I'm doin'." He twisted a corner and resumed his work.

"No, I don't think you bloody well do," Paul said stiffly, and John would've smacked him if his dominant hand weren't so busy.

"Gonna take that lying down, Bob?" John asked, and to his great delight, Bob took the cue and stood.

"Some mouth on him." Then, "hhohgod," as he seemed to hit the right spot. Bob planted a hand on Paul's shoulder and one knee straight between his legs. A faint sound punched out of Paul at the contact, the light pressure on his severely neglected cock.

John's breath caught in his throat. "Too fucking--right," he growled, giving in to the temptation to stroke faster, never mind the filthy sound. "Only one thing for it."

"It hhhuh--hhurt...h-! hurtsSchHt!" Bob ducked into the curve of Paul's neck and shoulder to let out a ticklish sneeze and a short groan. Paul's spine arched, but he bit back his cry into a sound that could've passed for loathing.

"...Hurts me more than it hurts you, man. Jesus Christ." Bob sniffled. "It's getting to me."

"G'bless you, fuck," Paul wept--a plausible slip, as Bob had just pushed his knee against him at exactly the right angle. John didn't have the heart to scold him anyway. Couldn't be expected to mind his manners and his language all at once.

"Paul, baby, you're so good," Bob hummed, and Paul and John sighed together (close harmony, John thought). "You 'n' this, it...it feels so good, John..."

"Bobby," Paul breathed, curving into Bob's knee, and John's eyes snapped shut. He had to slow down.

Bob was quiet, a few soft breaths in and out. Then, high and fragile with want, "I gotta sneeze."

John's heart raced. He opened his eyes and snapped at Paul, "Don't want that, do you?"

Paul, unable to stop his hips twitching against Bob's leg, could only shake his head.

"Babe--" Bob coughed, "Baby, I can't s-stop it..."

John growled--or he meant to, but what came out was a whine. "Beg him not to, you dirty fuck."

"Please," Paul breathed. There were tears in his eyes.

"Please, what?"

A noise like a sob tumbled from Paul's lips. He clung to Bob's arm as if it were the only thing anchoring him to earth. "Please don't sneeze on me, Bobby, Jesus fucking--"

Bob shook his head, adamant that he couldn't avert the inevitable, but even so, John could hear him make little choked sounds, like he was trying to wrest control back. Desperate. Futile.

"Oh." John actually surprised himself with how quickly his climax came upon him. He was already about to crest the point of no return. "Holy Christ," he said softly, almost whispered, and Bob lost the fight.

"hhiH'kTCH'Shhuh!" Harsh as a bad cough, right in Paul's shoulder. All the more forceful for trying to hold it back.

"Bloody hell--bless ya--"

John bit his hand and came bone-shaking hard, just as Bob rattled off another vicious sneeze.

"Bless you." A voiceless sigh, all Paul could muster up.

Bob shuddered. "Sonofabitch," he said wetly, and sniffled to clear his voice. "That was big. That good for you, Johnny?" He still sounded three days into a cold, no different than before.

John sighed, half-laughed, shaking his head as he wiped his hand on his slacks. "Fuck off."

"Look at him, man. Snff." Bob dragged his knee lightly over Paul's crotch, provoking a strangled cry of pain and making him rut uselessly. "Hey, you're not using these, are you?"

Paul was beyond speech, fighting just to keep his eyes open and his body relatively still against Bob's lazy, rolling touch. But, with shaking hands, he reached for his waistband, and in a joint three-way effort, they got his shorts off again for Bob to use as a handkerchief.

John felt the blood start to fill him back in just looking at Paul. He was red all over, panting open-mouthed, a permanent furrow in his brow from the effort of trying not to give in. His cock was a mess, shiny with slick and darkened with blood.

"Come here," John prayed, and Paul whimpered softly as they pressed together for a kiss. The sound of Bob blowing his nose was just background static, white noise. John didn't notice it had stopped until Paul's head suddenly tipped back, his lips parting in a frantic moan.

John glanced down to see Bob's head in Paul's lap. His curls bobbed slowly as he sucked him off. "There's a good lad, Bob," John said in disbelief. "Fucking hell."

Paul moaned again, his eyes fluttering back. He was dangerously, cruelly close. John held tight to him and kissed him--not his lips, he wasn't going to close his mouth again until he came. John kissed his neck, his cheek, all he could reach. "That's it, love," he murmured, "we've got you. Nothing we wouldn't do for you. You get so gorgeous like this, God...so nice and good for us. Paul...Paul--"

Paul's body went rigid and he came at last, with a series of moans so high and desperate, so vulgar that John blushed. Below them, Bob raised his head, coughing and sniffling. His chin dripped as if he'd only caught about half, but he looked well pleased, even slightly proud.

"Well, you little devil," John said to Bob as Paul wilted onto his shoulder, "you satisfied?"

Bob sighed. "As good as. God." He tugged once at his trousers, shifting the fabric around his arousal, but he didn't seem hungry for it. Nothing like Paul. In fact, he had almost the contented glow of sex--though that could've been the wine. He wiped his mouth. "Just somethin' about a good sneeze, man. Quasi-...erotic. Orgasmic."

Paul made a soft noise of dismissal into John's sleeve, and John had to agree. "Nothing quite tops the real thing, though, does it?"

"No, sir," Bob chuckled.

Paul coughed very quietly, making John turn. "Y'okay, love?"

Paul pulled away to nod. He was rosy-faced, blinking away tears, biting down on a small smile. John had only just gotten used to it--the fact Paul got this way sometimes. Only after the most grueling sessions, when he was denied too long. The relief would be more than his body could handle, and he'd dissolve into tears. Of joy, he'd assured John time and again. Now, as before, the euphoria was plain to see, but he looked wrecked, fucked-out. He was shaking.

"Here." John patted the bed, and Paul lay down, wiping his eyes and snuffling softly.

With Paul taken care of, John gave Bob a deadly look and dragged him onto the bed by his collar. They kissed like they'd never quit, only now there was a little vengeance in it on John's part. Torture my bassist like that, will you. Bastard. He tossed him off quick and rough, taking no care to avoid soiling Bob's suit; hoping, actually, to leave a stain.

Bob didn't stop talking the entire time.

"I just can't get over, mmh, that--like that--oh. How much it turns you on...t' see him this way. And he's gettin' all red...pretty and--ohh. Mm...pretty 'n' pink. Babe. John. Just can't help it. I like it when you tell him, tell him what to do. And--ahhh--and me. Wanna do it for you too. Baby. That's...aah, Joh- John--!"

John smothered him with a kiss, worked him through his orgasm, stained both their suits. It was gentle, light, insubstantial. Waves swept over Bob softer and softer, until he was trembling above John, panting for breath, looking half asleep. He leaned down--John expected another kiss, but he only nuzzled their cheeks together, as if he hadn't the energy for more. With audible effort, Bob hauled himself into a prone position beside Paul. John heard a little peck and a pleased coo as Bob weakly kissed the crown of Paul's head.

It wasn't until he awoke minutes later that he realized he'd even lay down. Paul and Bob were still breathing heavily, and occasionally they'd snag as if to snore, but they didn't wake. Taking care not to move the mattress too much, John slunk off the bed and into the kitchen. His mouth was dry as a bone.

As he filled a glass with water, he felt an odd stir in his chest. Silly to even think about, really. It was the sight of Paul, wasn't it, getting all frustrated? That's what got John off. Bob, well...was Bob, and there was no diluting the attractiveness of that. But the rest of it--the sneezing bit, the whole garish display, that was for Paul's benefit, not John's. Lucky or not, he didn't rouse to that kind of thing. He didn't have the same kind of automatic reaction, anyway. His only consolation was the look of pure animal lust on Paul's face every time Bob--

Oh, shit. A fluttering rush filled John's stomach at the mere memory, the echo in his ear. His breath came short. His cheeks grew uncomfortably hot.

John took a deep, clearing breath and finished his glass of water. He could revisit that sometime (far, far in the future, preferably), when he'd had enough sleep. On weary legs, he made his way back to Paul's bed.

[racingtoaredlight]

If you don't hate John Lennon already, you really should...

Nothing new or groundbreaking here. John Lennon being one of history's greatest pieces of shit is hardly a breaking story...whether it's his legendary hypocrisy or his physically and mentally abusive behavior, the guy was just a gigantic piece of shit from top to bottom. A walking, festering turd of a human being.

So him blatantly stealing a song from one of my all-time idols, Frank Zappa, doesn't move my meter too much. Shit, people give Elvis a ton of grief for creating a faithful homage to African Amerian music...which is as silly and shallow as criticizing Lang Lang for playing Rachmaninoff.

Because, despite that legendary hypocrisy and physically and mentally abusive behavior, the most significant reason I absolutely, vehemently loathe John Lennon is because he was a non-playing assclown who set musicianship back by centuries.

That is not fair at all, but he was the engine and face of the greatest popular music movement in history. People across the globe were inspired by him to create music...because John Lennon moved the musicianship bar so low that any swinging dick could get up to that speed in the matter of weeks. John Lennon made it ok for professional music to be amateur.

That is as grave a sin as it gets in my book.

After the jump I go way off track.

***

I like the Elvis comparison to the Beatles from both a popularity standpoint and a musicianship one. Their popularity is relatively equal. Their musicianship is absolutely not.

Beatles fans like to use Elvis in this debate, pointing to things that were stolen...which is quite fitting for Beatles fans, as it's as hypocritical as everything John Lennon did. Yea Elvis stole a bunch of shit. So did the Beatles. So did Led Zeppelin. So did Mozart, and Beethoven, and Miles Davis, and Keith Jarrett...

So lets compare some raw musicianship between Elvis' incredible original band led by Scotty Moore...and the Beatles amatuerism run amok. PS...I dont know why the Strawberry Fields vid has Paul as the image, when it was John and George on the awful guitar work (spoiler alert).

That groove on Mystery Train is as deep and solid as a groove gets. 2 minutes in the fucking pocket. I included two versions because Moore does some more advetrous stuff in his, but there's no fireworks, no virtuosity here...just straight up in the pocket.

Tap your foot and try to count along with Mystery Train...if you listened, you probably already were there without thinking about it. That's the hallmark of a great groove, regardless of genre.

Now try that with the Beatles' examples. It'll be there for a second...then gone...then awkwardly back again...then gone again.

Ignore the (admittedly) interesting lead parts in the last example. That's George starting to assert himself...that's got nothing to do with John Lennon. Those incredibly boring rhythm parts? That's John.

Again, George is lead guitar here...listen to the rhythm. Lol. Rhyhtm. It's just fucking AMATEUR.

All these Beatles songs have essentially the same form...an American I-IV-V blues. This is a standard form for rock...one that got Elvis a lot those criticisms of theft. It's incredibly basic, something you learn in your first few months of playing guitar. It's something that all guitarists should have on autopilot a year in.

How is "the greatest band ever" incapable of simply playing in time? Something that Scotty Moore and Elvis had ZERO problems with? This isn't all on Ringo...time is the responsibility of the entire band. And let me tell you, while he's not my favorite bassist, Paul had good time.

How is the "greatest band ever" incapable of PLAYING IN TUNE? In every example...every one of those examples...the guitars aren't in tune. Forget "in tune with each other"...the guitars are just straight up not tuned. Again, it's just fucking AMATEUR.

***

Because I suddenly realized that I could post more than 5 videos, I'm gonna keep going...

Give this like 90 seconds of a listen.

This is a goddamned clinic by one of the greatest rhyhtm guitarists of all time. Rhythm guitar is supposed to be glue. It's supposed to tie in the drums and bass with the melodic voices in a band.

Nobody did this better than Jim Hall. Eschewing the "four to the floor" style that's totally fine and acceptable (and welcomed by soloists), Hall did more to the band than a typical pianist would. The solid groove is there from the get go, he's tying in the harmony with the bassist and playing counterpoint with Paul Desmond's melody, he's literally doing everything. In perfect time, in perfect tune, at an incredibly complex level.

This album was recorded two years before the Beatles broke up. How was he able to play in perfect time and in perfect tune...but John Lennon couldn't? Again, because John Lennon was an amateur hack as a guitarist.

But again this is important, rhythm guitar isn't a contest of skill, it's a contest of consistency. I'm not slagging on John Lennon for not being a virtuoso...I'm slagging on him for not doing the very basic things that the music requires, while somehow being a part of "the greatest band ever."

Here's a great example...

Listen, I'm using jazz examples because rhythm guitar in rock is extremely basic and so unsubtle, you can't really get a sense of how this shit works.

The first 20 seconds of this you might be thinking..."what?" But when the piano comes in at 0:45, the whole thing comes together like a braise that's been simmering for hours. Then again at 1:00 when the drummer comes in.

I don't care if this isn't your taste or not...that's not the point. The point is, can you steadily tap your foot along with the music? It's all symbiotic...the parts work together. But if one part is...say, not in time at all and horribly out of tune (let alone saddled with a liability like Ringo Starr)...everything suffers.

There's nothing complicated or intellectual about the above example. It's seriously as basic as a groove can possibly get. But you can see how it all works together and why it's put together that way in the first place.

These are the ABSOLUTE BASICS. First grade. Ground floor. These are things, again, you learn in your first lessons. Spare me the "they were the hardest working band in Liverpool before they got big," the ABSOLUTE BASICS were not there with what John Lennon was bringing to the table.

No amount of status or billions or records sold makes up for this. Those are things that have very little to do with the quality of a piece of music. There can be incredibly great albums that sold billions of copies across the globe, and there can be incredibly great albums that sold a few thousand copies...the music is what's important.

And in no way did John Lennon devote himself to the music. He simply didn't. He might have acted like it, his mythology might suggest it, his biography might be curated to make people believe this but...

If someone can't play a) in tune and b) in time, how can someone say they've devoted themselves to music when this shit is the absolute basic part? It's like saying you're a mechanic without actually owning a wrench.

***

Anyways...

[art-of-firefly]

Alright i can't stop talking about them so it's going to be long

• They all live in the dorm. (i think it's canon since they watched the Strky vs Jabberwock match in what seems like a dorm common room)

• Hayama became really good friend with Izuki. The puns are neverending and the team greatly regret letting the two of them become friend.

They blame Akashi because he was the one who gave Hayama's number to Izuki during Kuroko's birthday party.

• Akashi really doesn't mind the puns, but then again Akashi is fond of all his friend quirks. There is a reason why all is friend are a Very Extra™ (GOM, Rakuzan) he just likes people like that.

• Hayama has ADHD, but he doesn't like how he feels when he takes his meds so he doesn't.

• He was the one who talk Akashi into seeing a specialist for his dissociative personality disorder. He takes him to his appointments every times and kept it secret from the rest of the team until Akashi felt ready to talk about it himself. He has no brain to mouth filter, but he is a reliable friend and knows when to keep things for himself.

• Nebuya is an incredibly kind and non-violent person, the only time he ever hit someone it was because they were talking shit about Mibuchi.

• Obviously, the team was very fond of Akashi even with his Bokushi persona, but he was hard to approach, so when Oreshi and his Shojo Prince persona returned, nothing could stop them from hanging out with him all the time. They even got the chance to act like sempais with him for the first time!

• They do have friendly relationship with schoolmates outside the team, but they mostly stay together and hang out together anyways.

• Akashi knows about Reo's crush on him, but it doesn't make him uncomfortable and doesn't change anything between them or make their relationship awkward.

• At some point during Akashi's second year the GOM established a monthly reunion. Kise's idea, made possible by Momoi and Akashi's scheming and Kuroko may or may not have been responsible for putting the idea in Kise's head. Midorima, Murasakibara and Aomine pretend to be reluctant to come each time, but they never fail to show up. (Sometimes Hayama accompanies Akashi to Tokyo to hang out with Izuki)

After Hayama, Mibuchi and Nebuya's graduation, they decided to establish a monthly reunion for Rakuzan team too. Since the three uncrowned kings move to Tokyo for university and live in collocation together the monthly reunion is more of a ''Akashi comes to Tokyo to see us every month and sometimes we managed to hunt down Mayuzumi, so he spends the day with us too.'' Kind of situation

• The uncrowned kings think it's really funny how Ringo-tan (From Mayuzumi's light novel) look like a gender bend version of Akashi. They won't stop teasing him about it.

• Nebuya just won't stop rescuing animals, at this point Rakuzan basketball team could convert into an animal rescue center. As Captain and vice captain Akashi and Mibuchi should stop him but 1- They don't want to make Nebuya sad and 2- They are weak against cute animals too. (Bokushi didn't see a problem with it either, as long as it didn't interfere with their training.)

Hayama thinks it's really funny, and he likes animals too so it never crossed his mind to stop the three of them.

Mayuzumi mostly ignore the whole thing but he allegedly have been spotted petting a particularly cute kitten at some point.

• By the way it's not actually authorised by the school to keep animals on the campus but since they are technically ''wild animals which happen to live on the campus'' it's not really a rule infraction. (Akashi, president of the student council, found the loophole himself)

• Mayuzumi came to watch their match during the final of interhigh and winter cup after he graduated. Akashi was the only one to spot him. (they won each time, Kise is unstopable but he can never last a whole match, so against Rakuzan it's not enough.)

• Mibuchi is a mother hen, he is a little overbearing but it always stayed reasonable. But after the old Akashi cames back, the team is suddenly under the constant watchful eyes of two team moms. It's A Lot.

Yes, they also mother hens each other, yes it's incredibly funny to watch. (Thanks the CD dramas for that it was perfect)

Somehow Akashi managed to be both the team's baby and the team's mom.

• Nijimura join Rakuzan for his last year of high school (In september after the Vorpal Sword Vs Jabberwork match) He had to work really hard to catch up with the few months of school he missed (since Japan begin the school year in april) but he managed.

He joins the team as power forward.

• Nebuya loves to cook, and he is really good at it, sometimes he makes lunches for the rest of the team.

• Hayama is a complete disaster in the kitchen. He just doesn't have the patience. Mibuchi can follow simple recipes but don't care very much about cooking. Akashi can cook perfectly (in Japan there is an obligatory class for cooking and its canon Akashi never had anything else than a perfect score in tests so he had to be good at it too.). No one knows if Mayuzumi can cook or not.

• Hayama's tendency to cheer for the rivals teams could have been a little upsetting for his own team but since he cheers a thousand times more for them it's not a problem. He is their number one supporter and he makes sure they know it. Constantly. ''It is just a lay up no need to gush about it'' ''But it was a perfect one, and you where so cool doing it !!''

I'll stop here because i could talk about them for hours.

i need more hcs of the rakuzan team cause all they personalities are so different i just want shenanigans from them :(

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.2

The thing is Paul just physically can't say what he feels. It's just an impossibility for him. So if he says reading a negative article about himself “doesn't help” or “it's not good” but it “doesn't get home” I just assume he means ‘It hurts, but I can't think about that too hard or I'll go into a self-hate suicidal spiral again’. 

I always love how Paul says Linda. “Linder is er, nature mad.” 

She!!

Hearing Paul talk about watching Mary be born makes me wonder if John was there with Sean? Also I wonder if Linda would talk about the experience so glowingly. Probably. She's tough as nails. I had a lovely experience, personally, after the epidural lol

“Dear friend . . . I'm in love with a friend of mine.” This is such a strange and beautiful song. It's a man who has to apologize to his friend for falling in love with someone else. At least, that's my interpretation. What's everyone else's?

I understand why he's so closed off. I do. But when John is going off every five seconds, we're missing half the picture here and it's turning out warped. They really are such a good study of attachment honestly.

“Nothing will ever break the love we have for each other.” White-knuckling my way through this section with this quote clenched in my fist.

Yoko, talking about John fighting with Paul: any couple will go from swearing to kissing and it's like that. What favors are you doing yourself here, babe? Maybe John's the PR mastermind between the two of them.

I find John's comparison of working with his romantic partner to being ambidextrous very confusing. Does he mean just doing two things at once?

“If I can't have a fight with my best friend, I don't know who I can have a fight with.” -- Intro slutty gender-fluid Wings Paul my beloved -- “Tell me why, why, why do you treat me so bad? So bad? When you're the best friend a man ever had?” I heard on some podcast somewhere. Someone was going on about how forward-thinking the Beatles were to refer to the women in their songs as “friends”. And I was like, nununununu do not give them that credit.

This is just soooo. In this era? 90 minutes in the middle of a recording session?

John: Sorry, my estranged fiance is calling, gotta take a break. Guitarist: again? Drummer: how estranged can they be if they call every three minutes? Yoko: should we just record the other parts or . . . John: (receiver cradled to his cheek, lovesick grin on his face) Hey, how was Heather's school program? Haha, yeah, I bet she was.

Okay, so you've made up with Paul and now you're done being homophobic? *Cardi b voice* well that's suspicious. 

The fact that John's asking Paul to play on stage with him in 1972?? Ugh! If it was just about legalities and money and shit I would be genuinely so pissed at Paul for not going. If only because Come Together sounds incredibly lame without his bass and piano. But also for the obvious fix-it reasons. I have to remind myself of how truly awful Klein was. By being the only one to stand firm against him, Paul actually ended up saving them all from a lot of trouble. But gosh would this have been good!

Things normal people say, for sure, for sure.

Okay in my head it went like this. John calls George and bitches about what an egomaniac Paul is because he won't do anything with him as long as Klein is involved. George gets off the phone and calls Ringo and they make a bet as to how long it is until John decides they should get rid of Klein. 

“Where's your audience, Paul?” “In the theater, Dave.” As he should. The cuntiness is unparalleled. Yeah, maybe people like to see a family friendly eclectic magic pixie sexy hard rock floor show? Ever thought about that, Dave?

Anyway, he seems genuinely pissed when the interviewer even mentions the other Beatles and he refuses to even admit he still talks to any of them. Why? 

John's just so benevolent and selfless. He's completely straight, of course, but he's always offering to do gay shit. You know. To be nice. 

I forget that not only was May their literal employee, but she was ten years younger on top of that. And yet, she managed to do so much good in that relationship. I have so much respect for her. 

There's obviously a lot going on behind the scenes that they don't say in interviews. Duh. But I wonder what it is that caused Paul to be so open and happy in this interview where he's asked about the other Beatles compared to before. I wonder if he and John had a really lovely talk, or if he's heard a demo of “I know, I know.” Or maybe it's just he's so reassured that they've got rid of Klein that he feels safe acting open to a reunion on record. Who knows, Yoko. 

So so smart to pair “In My Life” handwritten lyrics with the matching lyrics of “I know I know” playing at the same time. I forget about that connection (“I love you more”) because it's so overshadowed by the “than yesterday” right after. I seriously wonder if John thought he was being so obvious with this one the way he was with HDYS and half hoped people would ask him if it was about Paul and he could make up for the whole thing. Because it's just so heavy-handed. It's beautiful. I love it. I'm sure Paul loved it. But yeah. John's just beating us over the head with the references here. 

I also wonder (very tentatively!!!) if Paul was maybe a bit more emotionally vulnerable with John than we usually think. I would never think this except for the “you know I nearly broke down and cried” “I'm sorry that I made you cry” and “no more crying!” I don't know. What do we think? 

His little baby smirk. It's so silly and cute. He's being very positive about getting back together, and the interviewer asks if John would initiate that. Just a very coy, “a, well, I couldn't say.” I wonder if at that point if he'd said on live tv that he wanted to get together again if it would've happened. Seems like it might have, but I understand him being scared. 

Elton John taking pictures like a fan and John: I wanna impound all those photos till I get me green card. What a random idea for a commercial. I love it, obviously, it's hilarious. I wonder who thought of it. 

This doc is so good at implication. The smirk as “loving in the palm of my hand” plays. That's not a reference to hand jobs, is it? Certainly not talking to someone with beautiful hands?

Everyone go look up Nineteen Hundred Eighty Five on YouTube. The singing sex is something else, yeah, but I'm always so blown away by the piano part. The fact that he's self taught and doesn't read music and this man will go on to compose symphonies. 

[ratmuffintherapy]

The Haircut

imagine: eddie asking you to cut his hair. i KNOW, I KNOW, i love that boy's long hair too, but i just thought this could be a cute imagine! warning: cursing, drugs, smut-ish?? note: none word count: 1.2k

I sat in Eddie's room, flipping through his rock magazines. The Beatles played softly in the background, which didn't quite fit in with the punk rock vibes of the room, but ever since Eddie and I had started dating a few months ago, he had slowly let me infiltrate his music taste with my own. This week, I was introducing him to the Beatles. I had put in the cassette while he showered so he could come back to the sweet, sweet, sounds of John, Paul, George, and Ringo.

I hummed to myself, tapping my fingers to the beat of the song on the bed. I leaned over to the old bedside table and grabbed the joint sitting on it, not taking my eyes off of Kirk Hammett on the page in front of me. I slowly lit the joint and took a drag, holding my breath for a second before releasing it with a small puff of smoke.

I lazily watched the smoke drift away from me. The haziness slowly over took me and I closed my eyes, rolling my head just slightly.

"Hey gorgeous."

I jumped at the rude interruption of my bliss, opening my eyes to see Eddie standing in the doorway in front of me. He leaned against the frame with a towel wrapped around his waist, smirking as he watched my eyes wander down.

"Enjoying the view?" He pushed himself off the door frame and approached me.

"Shut up." I couldn't help but sheepishly grin at being caught. Eddie wormed his way between my legs, and gently stroked my cheek. I leaned in to his touch. He leaned in... so slowly... too slowly... until our lips met.

"Hmm," I hummed into the kiss as he deepened it and our lips moved together. My hands travelled up his chest, over his toned shoulders, and into his hair. At the same time, Eddie's wandering hands found their way to my waist. One arm snaked around my waist, and the other landed on the bed to steady himself as he slowly lowered me onto my back. His left leg nudged my right, signaling me to spread my legs more. I complied, and he mumbled, "Shit," as he grinded into me. I gasped quietly at the sensation between my legs, and I could feel Eddie smiling into me in satisfaction.

His lips found their way to my jawline, met my pulse right below, and peppered down to the crook of my neck. My mouth fell slightly open and I tangled my hands into his curly hair, encouraging him to do more. He suckled gently at the nape of my neck, and then with a small pop! he suddenly detached himself from me.

"Babe!" I complained, but Eddie only looked at me smugly.

"Yes, princess?" He tilted my chin up and pecked my lips, and pulled back grinning.

"I'm sorry but we're going to have to get back to that because I have... a small request." I pushed myself up onto my elbows and raised my eyebrows. With Eddie, this "small request" could be anything from a cuddle to, I don't know, saving the world from an all powerful, veiny, and frankly, disgusting creature.

"I was thinking," Eddie ran his hands through his thick, curly hair that I loved so much, "I was thinking that maybe we could give me a little makeover."

"Oh?"

He made his way over to his desk and whipped out a pair of scissors.

"OH?" If he was implying what I thought he was implying...

"Snip snip!" Eddie grinned at me mischievously, flourishing the scissors, and I laughed in disbelief.

"There is no way--"

"Yes way. I'm tired of having to untangle it after the shower and having to untangle it after having sex with you and--"

"Eddie!"

Eddie continued, ignoring me, "And having to tie it up whenever I do anything. And anyway, I feel like this is a start of a new era," Eddie held my gaze of disbelief as the scissors dangled from his hands. "And if you're not going to do it," Eddie held up a chunk of his hair and raised the scissors to it, and my eyes widened, "I'm going to do it myself." I gasped as he closed his fingers and the scissors chopped a huge chunk of his hair off.

He stood there, head lopsided, one side with short hair and one side with long hair.

"Eddie! I never said I wouldn't do it!" I couldn't help but laugh at the sight in front of me, and my boyfriend smiled sheepishly.

"So that means.... you'll do it?"

I laughed, "Yes, of course! You would look good with any hairstyle except... maybe except this one you have now." I gestured to his lopsided hair, then pushed myself off the bed. I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the bathroom.

I found a little stool that I could stand on so I could reach the top of his head, and I took the scissors from him. My eyes met Eddie's in the mirror and he grinned excitedly at me.

"You're sure about this?"

"Yes please."

I took a chunk of hair from the longer part of his hair and met the blades of the scissors to it. I slowly sawed through the thick bush, holding onto the ends of his hair, so that when I was done, I was left gripping a chunk of curly hair in my hand.

"That was so satisfying. Maybe we should start a hair salon, the two of us, and we can give all of Hawkins a haircut, starting with Harrington."

I laughed, thinking about Steve with a buzzcut, and Eddie chuckled.

"Come on, pretty girl, I look ridiculous with this bob, let's get to it."

I sawed away at the rest of his hair, pieces falling to the ground around me. I could feel Eddie staring at me through the mirror, and I couldn't help but smile when I looked at him, excited as I had ever seen him. When the hair was too short to cut with scissors, I plugged in the old hair buzzer that was in his bathroom cabinet, the one that Wayne used to use before he went bald, and I took that to Eddie's head. I didn't know what I was doing, but somehow, things were coming together. I left the top of his head a little lengthy, not wanting to leave him with a buzzcut--the world still deserved to know what beautiful hair Eddie had.

After a couple more minutes of buzzing around the nape of his neck and cleaning up the cut, I turned off the buzzer and stepped down from the stool. I watched in the mirror as Eddie smiled and rubbed the back of his head, amazed at what he saw in the mirror.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and whispered, "Look how handsome you are!"

Eddie wrapped his arms around my shoulders, squeezing me into a hug. "You're so good at everything you do, y/n." He placed a kiss on top of my head and I looked up at him tenderly. He gingerly placed a kiss on my lips. As he pulled away, I saw a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He suddenly bent over and hoisted me up by the legs, and I wrapped them tightly around his waist to stop myself from falling off and knocking myself out on the bathroom sink.

"EDDIE!" I giggled as Eddie peppered kisses all over my face.

He turned out of the bathroom and made his way back to the bedroom. "Now princess... where were we?"

[here-comes-the-moon]

i never meant to hurt you

you knew it soon as he walked in.

he let out a sigh as he dropped his bags before he'd smile seeing you sitting on the couch waiting for him, you plastered on a fake smile as he came striding over 'hello love!' his happy tone made you seethe on the inside but you pushed it deep down. you stood up and let him wrap his arms around you tightly before you let out a choked reply 'hello george.'

'god i missed you so much' he whined and you felt like laughing, not because you found it particularly funny or joyful but that you found it incredible how he could act so... okay?

'how was it?' you asked after you had pulled away, 'oh love it was just fab, there was crowds filled with thousands of people just there to see us!' you smiled as george gushed on and on. you weren't a monster and you were nonetheless extremely proud of george and how far him and all the boys had come. 'that sounds amazing george i wish i came' you weren't lying, you wish you had.

'i wish you did too' he smiled. liar.

'how are the other boys?' you asked grabbing the glass of wine that was on the table and taking a sip of it, 'yeah they're good' george answered as he leaned forward taking his boots off. 'have you not heard from any of them?" george asked and you shook your head, 'oh no john phoned me and so did ringo, paul phoned me a few times too.'

george didn't seem phased by this and he leaned back with a tired sigh resting his head against the back of the couch as he closed his eyes, 'in fact when did paul phone me' you trailed off pretending to think. 'was it the monday?' george asked still with his eyes closed, 'no no' you responded as your fake smile settled on a glare at him.

'oh no i think it was actually the thursday' you said, george didn't even flinch, 'the thursday?' george asked still not even breaking composure, 'yeah do you remember?' 'no don't think so love.'

'sure you do, it was the night you fucked that girl.'

george's eyes snapped open as he stared at you, you sat there unmoving against his gaze as you gave him a grin 'bet you didn't think I knew about that did you' you laughed at the sheer audacity of george coming home acting like it never happened.

'what are you on about?' george asked cooly, 'you knew damn well what I'm talking about george' you snapped and george shook his head 'if this is another one of your paranoias then I suggest you stop it now.' 'oh fuck off george, are you seriously going to sit there and pretend you didn't fuck that girl,' you were losing your temper now.

'I don't know what you're on about love, I didn't fuck anyone!' he was desperate in his attempts to defend himself already, 'oh drop the fucking act george, paul told me!'

george's brain tried to work on a reply as you sat there staring at him, your anger dissolved and your hurt side shown through 'how do you think that felt? getting told that my boyfriend was cheating on me by our shared best friend, whilst at the very same moment you were in the next room sleeping with someone else.'

'love-' 'don't call me love' George tried to hide his hurt at not being able to even call you by your pet name. 'why did you do it?' you asked and George just sighed leaning back and dragging his hands over his face, 'I never meant for it to happen.' you scoffed 'answer the question George.'

'I never meant to hurt you'

that broke you, what did he think would happen?

'you're a fucking arsehole George' you stood up and went to storm past him towards your room, George sprung up though and grabbed your arm but you were quick to turn around and shake his hand off 'don't fucking touch me George.' you walked past him again, George moving his hands up to grab at his hair pacing on the spot muttering 'shit.'

you walked into your room grabbing the already packed suitcase, when George walked in and saw the suitcase in your hand his stomach dropped. he shook his head furiously and raced towards you moving his hands up to either side of your face 'no no please love don't do this.' you finally broke down in tears at his begging, 'please don't go, stay with me' George was tearing up too now as he pleaded with you.

'I can barely look at you George' you choked out, you felt sick, the comfort his hands once brought you just from touching your skin now made you feel sick to your stomach, knowing his hands, that less than a week ago, were all over another girl. you wanted to scrub your skin till there was no trace of his touch ever existing on you.

'y/n please' 'I don't even want you touching me George.'

you pushed George away from you and continued walking for the front door, 'where are you going?' he chased after you and you shook your head 'I can't say George and you know that.'

your hand reached out for the handle when George's hand came out on top of yours holding it against the door so you couldn't turn it, george looked at you with tears falling down his cheeks 'I'm begging you for one more chance' je pleaded but you shook your head. 'I'm sorry George I need time, you and I both need time.'

you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek sadly, both of you feeling the others wet cheeks.

'I'm sorry' he said quietly as you opened the door and stepped out.

you turned back and gave him a sad smile.

'I'm sorry too.'

masterlist

[cracker-box-palace]

Headcanons - The boys flirting

Hey turns out I really like these sooo yeah

George

Poor Geo might get a tad nervous if he saw someone he really liked

He’d try his best to get close to you, to always be within earshot of you, maybe even crack a joke or two just to watch you laugh

Then, if he decided he really liked you, he would try his best to get you somewhat alone, or at least so that you’re not preoccupied by something else

It might not be completely obvious at first that he’s into you, but after you talk for a bit and he gets a bit more confident, he makes a few attempts at flirting

Like maybe he’d slowly shift closer to you

Or stare deep into your eyes with a bashful, irresistible little half-smile

If you responded well (which most people would, who can resist that?), he might try complimenting you; your hair, your eyes, your personality. Anything

He might try not to seem nervous, but it’s almost cuter when he stumbles a bit over his words, or looks at you for reassurance that he hasn’t crossed any lines

Either way, when Geo turns his flirt on, it’s hard to say no

Paul

Everybody knows our baby will flirt with anything that breathes

And he’s pretty fucking smooth at it

Something tells me he’d get as close as he can to you, not being shy to intimately touch your arm or shoulder, maybe even fix your hair

Because he knows what his overwhelming sexiness and flirtations will do to a woman

If Paul McCartney was into you, you would know. He would not be shy to show his feelings in the way he said things, the double-meaning he seemed to put behind everything

Like he could be saying literally anything, like the massive shit he took just that morning, but the way he said it always made it sound like he was inviting you up to his room for the night (sorry for the terrible example but you get what I’m tryna say)

Anywhere from complimenting your looks, to some intense and intimate eye contact, to maybe some light caresses, this boy has got an arsenal of weapons

And he’s not afraid to use them

In the end, he would make you feel special and all warm and tingly inside

Maybe even a little weak in the knees

John

Something about him screams that he would be one of those people who “flirts” by not leaving you the fuck alone, maybe even playfully joking or making fun with you

Like maybe he’d be a little charming, and probably damn smooth, walking an incredibly thin line between offending you and flirting

But he can pull it the fuck off

He, too, would value closeness and wouldn’t be able to keep away from you

Like, maybe if you were both sitting he would lean sideways towards you, whispering little jokes and things to you from the side of his mouth, making you giggle every time

And then he’d smile confidently, satisfied with himself

The most important thing to remember is that he would not leave you alone, maybe chatting your fucking ear off

But in a damn smooth way

Ringo

Ok I actually had a bit of trouble with this one

Like

I honestly don’t know

I guess he would just be really nice

He’d know just what to say to make your cheeks burn red, just what to do to make you giggle like a little girl

He’d make some tasteful, goofy jokes, maybe even some at his own expense

But then he would turn on a hinge and become serious, maybe even a little romantic

He’d make you feel like the only girl in the room, like you were the centre of his attention

Maybe sometimes it would be hard to tell whether he’s flirting, or just being nice and polite, but most of the time you can tell the difference with one distinct feature:

Those eyes. If he was feeling flirty, they would sort of drift around a little bit, and then he would angle his head down and look up at you with those sparkling blue crystals, like a little puppy dog

Over all, I think he’d be really great and fun to be around in a flirty mood