#they were so ready for beatlemania

[torchlitinthedesert]

Not Beatles, but shoutout to rock’n’roll girlies in the north of England in 1958:

…the 14-year-old Lorna Stockton (later Sage) went with a friend to Stockport:

Gail and I spent all our time and pocket money dashing from one jukebox to another to make sure that Pat Boone’s chaste hit ‘Love Letters in the Sand’ would be drowned out all over the windswept town by ‘All Shook Up’. The one was sweetness and light, the other inarticulate, insidious bump-and-grind… All the Elvises groaned and whimpered at once, and the waves rushed in and obliterated Pat Boone. And we clung to each other in a shelter smelling of orange peel and piss on the promenade, and shrieked with glee, like the Bacchae who dismembered Orpheus.

From David Kynaston, Modernity Britain 1957-62.

[emlovslennon]

Hii I love your writing! Could I get a beatlemania era ringo (on one of his few days off) talking about marriage with the reader 🥺 im desperate for cute fluffy and sappy

YES I CANNN!! i love this so so much🤍

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era: 1964

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Beatlemania was at it’s height, and the Beatles were bigger than they ever had been, they’ve been on tour for months now, and after what felt like a century, they were finally allowed to come home for a few days, which was usually not common for them. You and Ringo had been together for about three years now, and you had wondered off and on whether or not ‘the’ question was going to be brought up. Usually women your age would be married off already with kids, but you just haven’t hit that stage yet. Well, until today that is.

You were finishing up with taking your makeup off and getting ready for bed when Ringo walked into your shared bedroom, you had greeted him a crying mess earlier that morning when he finally got to come home.

“Love, can I talk to you about something?” Ringo asked, looking seemingly nervous, which made you anxious yourself.

“Of course, what’s wrong?” You replied

“Well, I’ve been thinking lately, since we’ve been together for so long, and you know Johnnys been married for a bit, and how happy they look, I was just, really wanting that to be us, y’know? Because I have never loved anyone as I much as I love you. And being away from you for so long has really made me realize that.” He said, as he walked closer and closer to you, until you he was standing right in front of you. Tears began to fill your eyes, you couldn’t believe was happening right now.

“Ringo… are you-“ you were cut off when Ringo slowly bended down on one knee and pulled out a little velvet box from his pocket and opened it, revealing a beautiful, white, diamond ring. It had to have been at least 24k. Your mouth dropped and tears had finally started to roll down your cheeks.

“Y/n, will you marry me, darling?” He asked.

You couldn’t even speak, you frantically nodded and kissed him, you were beyond happy, Ringo has been nothing but your biggest supporter and the best boyfriend you could have ever asked for, you couldn’t wait for your future together as husband and wife, maybe touring wasn’t so bad after all.

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OKAY NGL I REALLY LIKED THIS ONE THIS WAS PROB THE CUTEST THING IVE EVER WRITTEN LMAO BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYED ITTT

[foxes-that-run]

Fabulous Magazine August 2013

(x) Harry said he doesn't remember saying dating is a pain. This is referring to media that he said dating Taylor is a pain in This is Us, which he didn't say.

THE BETH NEIL INTERVIEW

Anyone in any doubt as to just how big One Direction have become should take a trip to the States. Seriously. The nation (along with the rest of the world) has gone stark staring mad.

Teenage girls are staking out hotel lobbies across the Texan city of Houston where, straight after our photo shoot and interview, Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Liam Payne, Louis Tomlinson and Zayn Malik will play to 18,000 screaming fans in scenes reminiscent of Beatlemania. Goodness gracious, Directioners (as the fandom call themselves) are loud.

And despite our exclusive cover shoot being held in a deserted wasteland – its location having been shared among only a few need-to-know people – hundreds of lovestruck fans somehow track us down.

Considering the chaos that surrounds them, the boys themselves are remarkably relaxed. They’re the globe’s biggest boy band, with sales of 30 million, a combined wealth of £25million and their very own 3D movie, This Is Us, directed by Morgan Spurlock of Super Size Me fame, out later this year. And yet they haven’t changed one iota since they were first thrown together on The X Factor three years ago in a moment of utter genius from then-guest judge Nicole Scherzinger.

Without exception, the boys are a pleasure to be around, making what could have been a gruelling day in the blazing heat seem pretty easy with their good humour and total lack of celebrity airs and graces. As Liam puts it: “We’re the worst divas in the world.”

Harry is first to emerge from the tour bus, closely followed by Niall (with guitar) and a topless Liam, who has only had a couple of hours’ sleep and hasn’t yet showered (“Sorry if I smell!”). Zayn and Louis are the last to arrive, looking at ease and ready – life on the road is tiring work. Harry’s sister Gemma, 22, is also here, tasked with looking after band hairstylist Lou Teasdale’s beyond-cute toddler, Lux. It’s all one big happy 1D family.

Between shots, we sit down with each of the boys to find out what on earth has been happening since we last met a year ago. Which one has a secret love interest? Who’s gagging for a beer? And who, pray tell, has discovered his inner rebel since becoming single?

Photographed exclusively for Fabulous by Mark Hayman.

HARRY, 19 "I'M NO ANGEL BUT I DON'T WANT TO BE SEEN AS A D***HEAD"**

So, Harry, what’s been the wildest night out on the tour so far? There was a night in New York, which obviously I didn’t drink at because I’m not legal to drink in the States. But we had a couple of days off, and we took our crew out and spoke to this lady who owned this bar and she let us all in. It was amazing – seeing all the crew get wasted and having fun was brilliant. That night was a 5 am-er. But obviously I wasn’t drinking.

Didn’t you recently throw up on stage? Yeah! It wasn’t that embarrassing, more like a little bit annoying. Everyone thought it was because I’d been out drinking and going off the rails. I think it was actually the least rock ’n’ roll explanation ever in that I’d just had one too many slices of pizza.

It’s been reported that you described relationships as “a pain in the arse”. Is that true? I don’t actually remember saying that. I’m sure some people find that they are. They’re not easy, that’s for sure, but I don’t think they’re a pain in the arse, no.

Of all the boys, it’s your love life that gets the most interest. Does that get tiresome? The only time it can get annoying is when you like someone. But they’re thinking: “But I’ve seen him with all of these others.” It’s OK. I get it. It’s not something I complain about. If I looked at everything going on in my life and chose to focus on that then my priorities are in the wrong place. People who are on the outside need to understand, so that’s fine. But take 10 of the people I’ve been linked to and eight or nine of them are just friends or people I’ve met once.

Do you worry about getting a reputation? Yeah. I just don’t want to be seen as a d***head. I don’t worry about my mum because she gets it and knows what I’m like. But I don’t want other people to think I’m an a**hole.

We’re sure most people see a lad having fun. Thanks, I hope so. But at the same time, I’m not an angel.

We bet... Are you single or dating? Right now? This very second.

Do you mean dating someone or just dating? OK, we’ll make it clearer! Are you with one person right now? No. I’m single at the moment and I haven’t been mingling that much either. Touring is so hard and it’s hard to get to know someone in a day. You don’t get enough time to meet someone and say: “I really like you. Do you want to come on the road for a bit?” We’re rarely anywhere for even two days at the moment.

Is there anyone in your life who could become “significant”? There is... I’ve got someone that I like, but we’ll see.

Is it Kara Rose Marshall (the 22-year-old British model Harry was recently linked to)? Um... There’s just someone in mind. There’s always someone who’s the person you think about if something happens. But, yeah. There’s nothing really happening at the moment.

OK, moving on. Do you have unusual on-the-road essentials? I always bring a candle from home, so the bus smells like your house. The Diptyque ones are my favourites. But they’re not good. Oh and you know those dried mango flakes?

Yeah, they’re horrible! They are not! I eat them like crisps. They’re amazing.

This is your third Fabulous cover shoot – you’re veterans at this now. Yeah. I loved the black-and-white one we did with you last time. I love the Fabulous shoots, they’re always fun.

Fabulousmag.co.uk

[chroniclesof15]

The Beatles and The Mystery of “I Got a Dog”

Right, I’ve been meaning to tell you all about this, and, well… I’ve had a bit of time to digest it.

So there I was, zipping through the 1960s with Ruby -- bless her, she’s a brilliant companion -- and we ended up at Abbey Studios in 1963. The Beatles, at the height of their powers, were in the studio recording new tracks, as you’d expect. Now, Ruby’s been obsessed with the Fab Four. You’d think she was born with a Beatlemania subscription in her DNA. So naturally, I had to show her the magic of witnessing them create history. How could I resist?

But -- and this is where it gets interesting -- something was off. You see, Ruby and I were there, casually watching the magic unfold, when John, Paul, George and Ringo started performing a song that I… well, I have no words for it.

You might be familiar with some of their hits, like "Hey Jude", "Yesterday", or "Twist and Shout", right? Oh, but no, this -- this was different. It was almost like they were… joking. The song they were performing was called “I Got a Dog”. Yes, really. And let me tell you, it was absolutely terrible. I’m not exaggerating, I promise you. It was bizarre -- a jumble of nonsense lyrics about a dog that, frankly, I couldn’t make head or tail of. The melody was all wrong, the lyrics weren’t even remotely clever, and I couldn’t help but think, "What on Earth am I hearing?"

Now, I know a bit about music (being an alien who’s experienced the entirety of human history), but this was just wrong. I had to ask Ruby if I was going mad, but she was just as stunned. Her exact words were, "Doctor, is this… actually The Beatles?" I had to pinch myself. It was definitely them. But they were performing something that I can only describe as a pure disaster of a track.

I don’t know how it happened, really. Maybe the universe just wasn’t ready for the masterpiece that was "I Got a Dog". And trust me, I don’t think the world ever will be. But there they were, in the studio, playing this nonsensical thing, completely unaware of the cosmic disaster they were about to create.

I’ve tried to find any trace of this song in our timeline -- nothing. No records, no mentions, no nothing. It’s like it was erased from existence. Maybe, just maybe, we stumbled into a universe where the Beatles were… a bit more experimental than they were supposed to be. But unfortunately, it was the works of the Maestro.

One thing’s for sure -- I’ll never forget the sound of those horrendous chords. I think I’ll be scarred for life. If you ever find yourself in the 1960s, and you hear something about “I Got a Dog”, run. For the love of music, run.

And Ruby? Poor thing. She’ll never look at The Beatles the same way again. Not after that.

The universe sure does have a funny way of keeping us on our toes. Or… should I say, on our ears.

[ratcatcher0325]

Nobody’s Fool (Chapter #22)

Chapter #22 is here! Penn pours his heart out. How do you think it’ll go?

Previous: Chapter #21

Next: Chapter #23

CW: Adult language, dehumanization

Reblogs > Likes, Thank you! ________________________________________

NOBODY'S FOOL

Chapter #22: Cyrano

Word Count: 1285 Read Time: Approx. 10 mins

[Penn's POV]

The evening leading up to the show was gone in the blink of an eye. Someone had recognized me at dinner and I found myself posing for photos again. Before I knew it, it was time for the show. I had managed during the sound check, to find a few minutes when Eveline was off running an errand for the band, to give the other three a heads up about my new song. We rehearsed the bones of it once or twice and all felt pretty comfortable. But I made sure not to reveal the lyrics, I wanted that to be a surprise.

As we waited in darkness, ready to begin, I shifted my weight between my two feet, black leather boots practically blending in to the table top I stood on. Tonight, I wore black jeans, a white undershirt and the bandana I’d gotten from the previous show, around my neck. Complete with suspenders and my white hat. I looked head to toe like the silly little lovesick cowpoke I was slowly becoming.

Tonight was the night…. I’d play her the song, a sappy, stupid love letter to someone so beyond my league it was laughable. She’d know it was for her, the lyrics were unmistakable. I cleared my throat. Sucking in air. Listening to the ecstatic rumble of so many human souls buzzing with anticipation. The second the bright lights flooded over my section of the stage and the camera started to stream my image, blown up a hundred times my actual size, the crowd went wild. Screaming like this was some Beatlemania level shit. And all that for a man that barely measured the length of most people’s outstretched hand!

A smile crept across my face as I stepped up to the mic, “Hey LA! How’re we doing this fine evening??” Screaming, shouting. “My name is Penn, you might’ve heard of me. If not, I’m the speck on stage that needs a whole four person camera crew just to be able to be seen by you lovely people!” Laughter, hoots, hollers. “Listen, I’m just as baffled as you people are. A pet… singing, playing guitar? What sorta alternate universe is this, right?? Well, I dunno. But I sure as shit am glad to be here and I hope we can give you a fun night of some great music. Lemme hear you, LA!!” The roar of the crowd threatened to blow me back. “Damn, alright. You don’t need to permanently damage my hearing… I heard you!! C’mon, let’s take it away!” Laughter. They were all warmed up. We began to play the first song of our set. It was another I’d written, bouncy, sweet, uplifting. They screamed their heads off.

[LINK to Song]

We played through the set. It was a blast. It was searingly hot. My hands and head were on fire. I never slowed down, I never stopped moving. The audience loved it. Then, finally, it was the moment I’d been preparing for all day. I was suddenly so nervous I was practically shaking. “Well, you’ve all been an absolutely amazing audience tonight…” They responded in kind, “I wanted to close out the night with a new song... no one besides me has even heard the damn thing… I wanted to, uh…. I wanted to share it because…. Mmmm..” Fuck this was harder to follow through on than I thought. C’mon, Penn. Be brave. “I wanted to share it because there’s someone very important to me in the audience tonight that needs to hear it….” I sucked in a deep breath, steadying my foolish heart, and began the song. 

[LINK to Song]

It was slow, melodic, a lullaby. My eyes sifted through the dark corners of the stage, where I found her, my muse, the gentlest, kindest woman I’d ever known, hiding in the wings. I sent all of my love and energy towards her. Willing her to hear and understand what I was trying to tell her.

I sang my heart out. Leaving everything on the stage. When the lights finally went down on this magnificent venue I had nothing left to give. My heart was burning and I felt on top of the world. The crowd loved it. As the crew started to filter onstage to tear down, I felt a shadow cast over me. Then, those intoxicating eyes. She picked me up gingerly, those familiar fingers feeling delightful on my skin. I was trembling with anticipation, to pour my heart out for her, and to see if she accepted my offer.

She carried me to the dressing room, my heart feeling lighter than a feather, my head heavy as an anvil. Before I felt at all ready, we were alone behind the closed door. My heart was in my throat, as she set me down on unsteady feet.

I took off my hat, gripping it as though it was somehow the source of my courage, I gazed up at her, beautiful as ever, through sheepish eyes, “Eveline? I, I have something I’d like to tell you…”

************

Oh, fuck. Travis was fucking right. He was always fucking right. I was going to have to break his beautiful little heart, wasn’t I? This perfect, fragile little creature who had done nothing wrong…. I’d have to tell him…. He had no idea, how could he? I fought back tears.

Why did he have to fall in love with me? If I could keep these budding feelings for him stuffed down and silenced, why couldn’t he? He would be far better off ignoring them. Leaning into them was going to hurt him so much more. I felt like throwing up.

*************

She descended to my level, eyes alight with incredible color as she rested her chin on her hand. I felt like the terrified version of myself that cowered in the snow, broken traumatized, completely vulnerable and at her mercy. 

“Yes, little one?” Her voice shook. She brushed a finger tip through my damp curls. I didn’t want to be her ‘little one’, I wanted to be her man. That felt stupid even thinking it out loud. No. No, I have to try.

“Eveline… I - I, uh… that last song out there, was… it’s for you. About… you.” Something on her face shifted but I couldn’t put my finger on what. I desperately wanted her to shush me and pull me before her, and kiss me deeply, passionately, sparing me all these clumsy words. 

“It was beautiful… I loved it. I promise you, I did.” She suddenly had this pained smile, or was I imagining it? “Penn, sweetheart, I….” Did she really not understand what I was getting at? Or did she just not want to? Or was she summoning up the courage to tell me her feelings? That must have been it! I couldn’t believe it! Was this about to actually go down the way I’d dreamt it would? “I actually need to tell you something, too—“ I swallowed my fear, standing a little straighter. Don’t be afraid, I’ll do it for the both of us.

“Eveline Lancaster… I’m - well, fuck… I’m in love with you…” She sucked in a sharp breath, her pupils, inky black against a turbulent green-grey, noticeably dilated as her soft lips parted. My heart thundered in my chest as I waited, hanging by a thread, to see if she would pull me from the cliff’s edge or push me off.

Her thumb pressed over my heart, surely she could feel it pound like a hummingbird’s wings. Her eyes welled with tears, “Oh…. My sweet little Penn….” No. No. Please no. Not that tone of voice. Not those tears rolling like shrapnel from a gun down her cheeks. She was poised to say more, eyes looking down at me with an expression of sorrow and pity, when the sound of the dressing room door clicking open, turned both our heads in surprise.

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

I'm going to come off anon to explain my Taylor Swift to Beatles pipeline because I do get that, if someone said what I said to me, I would also feel super nosy. And it's not bad or super embarrassing or anything. It's just kind of convoluted to explain in a way that might be annoying to your followers if it came in anon form.

So, like I said, I've been a Taylor Swift fan from basically day 1. I have strong memories of Tim McGraw first coming out on country radio. But I always considered myself a casual fan. For Debut, Speak Now, Red, and 1989, I only knew the singles and one or two other songs. And I only knew Delicate off Reputation. And even though I'd fallen deeply in love with folklore and evermore, I still didn't consider myself a swiftie and missed the rereleases of Fearless and Red entirely. But a few months after Red (TV) came out I was having a conversation with my sisters about our favorite music artists and realized that Taylor Swift was probably the musician that I had had the longest and deepest relationship with. And even though I saw myself as a casual fan I'd watched all her music videos, except the ones for Look What You Made Me Do, Endgame, and Ready for It? (which I didn't know existed), obsessively, she was the only artist I've ever tried to see in concert, and nothing about my relationship to folklore or evermore could be considered casual. And upon realizing that she was probably the most important musician in my life, I immediately got in deep as a fan. But, as previously alluded to, I was super reluctant to get back into rpf. Both because of the absolute horror of seeing how tinhat conspiracies spiral and because I know my own tendency to place my favs on pedestals and how unhealthy that is with real people. So I tried to confine myself to what I hoped would be a healthier version of obsessing over a real person. I only looked at reviews of her music and tracked her sales statistics (something I also always get overly invested in with my favorite celebrities). It's super difficult to find accurate sales statistics for music, but I found this great site called chartmasters.org which is at least consistent in its measurements across artists. And eventually, after checking it obsessively every day for weeks, I couldn't help but notice The Beatles at the top of the artists chart. And how they were 75 million records above the next highest artist (Michael Jackson), which is basically Cher's whole career. I've never really been a huge music person, so I knew about the Beatles, but my whole opinion of them was - Beatlemania, a few good songs, influential, but massively overhyped by middle-aged men. Seeing them that far ahead of the next person down made me go "what the hell is the deal with this band?". And then I went down a Wikipedia rabbit hole which turned into a tumblr rabbit hole which is what led me to that gifset. And now I'm here.

So that's it. Nothing too bad, just kind of a ridiculous explanation to send over anon.

Awwww I love it though, we all fall in somehow :') Thanks for sharing!! 🫶🏻🥹

[peachtree-dish]

A Te Che Sei il Mio Grande Amore Ch. 7: Niente ti farà del male piccola

23 Gennaio, 1970

The first indication of Luca’s growth spurt began with his school blazer suddenly feeling too tight as he raised his hands in class. The second indication came from bursting seams on his pants and his pants becoming more like capris as he wore them each day. The third time his inseam split, Signora Mia finally resigned herself to the reality of new clothes. Now, standing in front of his mirror, Luca could see the changes he had been too busy to notice before. His body was lengthening and becoming more svelte, with his legs becoming toned from cycling around the city. His face had slimmed down, losing most of the baby fat and child-like roundness he had grown accustomed to for most of his life.

The only features that hadn’t changed with time were his eyes; richly brown with flecks of gold and red. Luca wondered what Alberto would think of when he saw him. His friend’s voice had begun to deepen when they spoke two months prior, and Luca had all but melted into the warm depths of that voice. Would Alberto have a similar reaction to seeing Luca as he grew into himself? His thoughts were mildly put on hold as a gentle hand knocked on his bedroom door seeking permission to enter. Giulia entered, her hair damps from her bath and her skin glowing from the warmth of the water.

Dante and Luisa had left about an hour ago, having visited for after-school studying. He was not overly excited for their upcoming midterms, and with the added stress of assisting the teachers, he felt nervous about how his grades would fair. She plopped none too gently on his bed while the sounds of Signora Mia’s poor singing and the radio blasting in the kitchen echoed into his room.

“They’re playing the Beatles again?” He inquired, picking up the familiar tunes under Mia’s caterwauling. He pretended to brush imaginary dust from the light blue shirt he was wearing while strains of ‘Let it Be’ floated through the air. Giulia grinned and nodded, wincing when her mother’s voice reached for a particularly high note.

“I think Beatlemania has finally bitten her.” She rolled onto her stomach and faced him. “Were you going to try on the clothes we bought?” She inquired. He flushed under her scrutiny, not wishing to appear vain, and instead opted for sitting nonchalantly in his chair by the window.

“No, I was just thinking about changes.”

“Like what kind of changes?”

“The physical kind; I didn’t realize we were growing up.” Giulia hummed in thought. Just like her mother, both women had a gift to perceive and understand those around them with hardly any words or context.

“You don’t seem overly happy about it?” She cautiously pried.

“I wouldn’t say that, exactly, it’s something new.”

“Well, if it helps, you look good in your new wardrobe. I can hear the swooning girls now.” Giulia grinned wolfishly. The thought of girls noticing him more made Luca nervous and uncomfortable.

“I sure hope not,” he looked out the window to the hues of sunlight bathing the coral and cream houses orange. The lighting reminded him of Porto Rosso, and in turn, reminded him of Alberto.

“Don’t you want to start dating? Dante hardly shuts up about girls and most everyone in your grade is going out. Unless you’re only allowed to date sea monsters.” He continued to avoid her gaze, instead focusing on a flock of pigeons strutting along the rooftop to the left.

“No one interests me here.” He hedged after a moment.

“Not even Luisa?”

Now that got his attention.

“Ew, what? No!” He wagged his arms in horror, nearly losing his balance on the chair.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Giulia soothed, baffled at his reaction.

“No offense to her or anything, I just… no. Definitely not.”

“Bene, she’s not interested, if that helps.”

“Why did you ask her?”

“I never said I did,” Giulia blustered, pink spreading across her face. Luca just stared at her with an unimpressed expression. She laughed nervously, glancing to the side.

“I was just curious,” she mumbled. She began to wrap strands of hair around her fingers, obviously avoiding his gaze now. A light suddenly clicked in Luca’s brain.

“Do you like her?” Giulia’s head snapped up and she glared at him.

“Do you like Alberto?” She shot back.

Looking back at this moment, Luca would realize he should have felt fear, or nervous, perhaps even anger, but Giulia’s question felt like a shock to his system. A switch flicked on and flooded his body with realization and for the first time in years, Luca understood everything.

A shock of laughter escaped him, “Yeah, actually. I do.” He laughed again, this time harder, unsure as to why tears were starting to leak down his cheeks, staining them green. Luca pressed his face into his hands as his laughter turned into hysterical gasps for air.

“Actually, I-I think I’m in love with him.” Oh shit, shit, shit, shit. “O mio Dio, I’m in love with my best friend, Gules.” He didn’t hear Giulia move until her arms were suddenly wrapping around him and she was awkwardly rubbing circles into his back.

“Is this okay?” She asked. He could no longer form words, so Luca nodded his consent instead.

When he eventually calmed down and the only evidence of his initial panic were the scale tracks on his face and neck, Giulia quietly went to grab him a glass of water and held it out for him to take.

“Sorry, that was dramatic.” He whispered croakily. Giulia laughed kindly and patted his shoulder.

“I think dramatic is a requirement in our family. Besides, you already know how I can be too much.”

They sat in silence for a time with their arms around each other, the light outside fading to the familiar dark and loud nightlife of Genoa.

“Per favore, don’t tell my mama.” Luca cast her a look of confusion. “About Luisa.” She amended. “As kind and accepting as she is, I think this is something that would be too much of a sorpresa.”

The red-headed teen scuffed her big toe against the floor, eyes downcast.

“Hey,” Luca nudged her softly, prompting her to look up at him. “She might be the one to surprise you. I’ve never met two people like your parents, Giulia, who truly only lived to make their child happy.”

“Ad ogni modo, I’m still not ready for that conversation. Besides, it’s not like I have a chance. Luisa’s, like, super pretty and smart, and Santa mozzarella! When she sings, it’s incredibile!”

Luca smiled as his friend rambled on about the Sicilian sea monstress, wondering if this was how he looked every time he gushed about Alberto. Eyes bright, cheeks flushed, and an endless amount of knowledge about the one person you consider to be your whole world. It was a wonder no one else knew of his feelings.

21 Marzo 1970

“Santa ziti! You’ve been in love with him this whole time?!”

“Zitto, Ciccio! I’d rather not have the whole town know, thank you.” Alberto flung flour at the blonde’s face, nervously checking to make sure no one had heard them. They were currently working in the kitchen behind the Pasticcini’s front area, with Alberto kneading the dough and Ciccio creating scores in the bread or decorating the more delicate sweets.

Ciccio winced apologetically and lowered his voice, leaning in for good measure.

“Does he know, or have you not told him yet?”

“Of course, he doesn’t know, stupido! I’m trying to not ruin our friendship.

“Don’t call me stupido, and how do you know it would?”

Alberto threw the ball of dough down on the wood surface with more force than necessary, the surrounding flour splattering like snowballs after the season’s first snowfall.

“I just know, é tutto.”

They worked in silence for a while, taking turns with switching pans from the clay oven and glazing sweet rolls with fruit jellies and powdered sugar. When the sun was beginning to set everything on fire, its orange gaze turning the sweet rolls into apricot imitations, Ciccio’s mother brought warm cider and a platter of buttered bread. Alberto liked Ciccio’s mother, she was as warm as the bread she baked and her personality as strong and opinionated as the spices she used. Bella shared the same round features as her son, with a strong nose and bowed lips that were quick to smile. Ciccio once explained to Alberto that he and his mother got their strong noses and blonde hair from Bella’s German heritage, but it wasn’t something they spoke openly about.

Today, Signora Bella’s smile was strained, but it had lost none of its warmth. Alberto knew that meant either some customers had been more difficult than others or some pastries hadn’t turned outright. He recoiled at the thought of her being disappointed in anything he’d done.

“Come va tutto, ragazzi?” She lovingly patted Ciccio’s halo of curls and squeezed Alberto’s shoulder with a large hand. “It’s smelling really good in here. Ah, che bello!” She motioned to the cooling racks on Ciccio’s right. The sweet rolls and scored bread glistened perfectly in the afternoon light and the Signora’s words made Alberto glow as well.

“If you keep this up, Alberto, I may have to bribe Massimo to let me keep you all year long,” she teased. Alberto could only shrug nonchalantly, hoping his pride didn’t show.

“How did the sales go, mama?” Ciccio asked cheerfully, taking a large bite from his buttered bread. Alberto watched nervously, eating his own snack at a slower pace, his stomach suddenly feeling as if hermit crabs were marching and pinching at his insides.

Bella waved the questions away, her mouth pulling sourly at the edges. “Bah, Signor Tafani nearly scared away my customers this morning with his complaining. That man is never satisfied.” She sniffed dismissively. Alberto’s fingers began to pick at the bread, the smaller crumbs slipping from his lap.

“Was there something wrong with the baked goods?” He managed to ask, focusing on Bella’s crocifissione that hung around her neck. The older woman’s hand rested over Alberto’s, pausing the destruction of his bread.

“As I said, piccolo, he is never satisfied. No matter how perfect the bake is,” Her smile was small but firm and it made the hermit crabs release their pinching in his stomach. “God help that poor man’s wife.” Bella sighed heavily as she heaved herself to her feet.

“Ora,” she stood and clapped her hands together and both Alberto and Ciccio swallowed their bread quickly, the butter coating Alberto’s mouth with salt and cream. “Alberto, will you be staying for dinner?”

Alberto’s mouth watered at the thought; the signora’s food was always amazing, rich in seasonings and filled with love. Not to mention Ciccio’s father would usually play his guitar and serenade his family with music and singing. If he drank enough wine, Massimo would usually join in and the resulting cacophony would leave the rest of the family in tears and howls of laughter. Outwardly, the curly-haired teen hesitated, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

“I don’t know Signora, I don’t want to leave Massimo hanging…”

“Bah, but of course he is invited as well, what do you think telefoni are for?”

“To make long distances seem short.” Ciccio supplied cheekily, earning an inconspicuous kick from Alberto. Signora Bella gave her son a bemused look.

“Si, mio figlio, for that too…” deciding that it was safer to not question the odd antics of teenaged boys, Bella left to call Massimo and prepare dinner.

When she was out of sight, Alberto gruffly shoved Ciccio in the side, earning him a loud laugh.

“I think I preferred it when you were trying to hunt me,” he groaned miserably. Ciccio merely grinned.

“It’d be hard to catch a fish that’s already been caught.” Alberto kicked him harder in answer.

28 Aprile 1970

“You want me to start applying already?”

The headmaster grinned expectantly at Luca.

“Ma certo, Luca! You’ve shown so much potential these past two years, which is even more impressive considering your, ahem, background.” The balding man stage whispered behind his hand. Luca could only stare in confusion.

“Why are you whispering, we’re the only ones here?” Signore Bonetti flushed red for a moment, his thin lips disappeared under his obnoxiously large mustache as he frowned.

“It doesn’t matter,” he waved his hand away, his smile returning instantly. “What matters, mio caro ragazzo is that you could have the opportunity for great things.”

“Bene, I don’t know, Signore Bonetti.”

“You don’t know.” The signore’s mustache quivered as he peered at the curly-haired youth before him. Luca shrugged awkwardly under his gaze, feeling a nervous trickle of sweat make its way down the back of his neck.

“I still have two years here and I have to consider prices as well. Moreover, I would like to discuss future possibilities with my family first.” He offered what he hoped to be a placating smile at the headmaster.

“All the more reason to start now,” Signore Bonetti pressed, his hands inching university pamphlets across the oak desk. “Signora Castello has already agreed to help write your application letters along with several recommendations from our staff. And, I should add that we’ve had a growing handful of universities reach out with interest once I sent a copy of your grades.”

Luca sighed internally, he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be escaping this conversation without some sort of agreement.

“How many universities would accept a full-grown sea monster into their halls, Signore Bonetti?” Luca asked bluntly. Thin lips open and closed in an “o” shape. The mustache covering the top half of his mouth reminded Luca of an octopus who couldn’t quite catch its food. He decided to keep that thought to himself.

“Actually, quite a few would be ecstatic, if you were willing to supply their science departments with some information.”

Luca clasped his hands to keep them from shaking. “I will not be some science project that is locked away and never seen again.” He said firmly.

The headmaster quickly backpedaled, “No, no of course not! We would never allow-”

“I’ve seen what humans do to those they consider different. Fear is a powerful, if uneducated, weapon. If I am to go to any university, I do not want them to know about my…background, as you say.” Luca smiled condescendingly.

The bald man paled, his eyes round with shock.

“No, mio ragazzo, I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Bene, if that is everything, I need to head back to class.” Luca stood, he considered the colorful papers on the desk before grabbing the lot and turning towards the door. Signore Bonetti stuttered a farewell to his retreating figure. He didn’t look back.

“What’s got you looking so glum, chum?” Dante’s question sprayed crumbs everywhere, much to the rest of the group’s disgust. Luca glared up at his large friend, dusting the rejected food off of his copy of ‘Fantastic Mr. Fox’.

“Is it really that hard to swallow first then speak, Castello?” Luisa asked, her cupid bow lips curled in distaste.

Dante rubbed a large hand across his face, dispelling a few straggling crumbs from his mouth. Without saying anything, he stared challengingly into Luisa’s eyes and took a larger bite of a dinner roll, the crumbs falling to their doom. Luisa scoffed and turned back to braiding Giulia’s red locks in intricate patterns. Giulia hadn’t said much during their lunch hour, and if Luca had to guess, he would wager having Luisa sit so close with her hands combing through her hair had something to do with it.

They were currently sat outside on the campus grounds, good weather permitting it. Around them, other students sat on benches or laid out on the grass, soaking up the weak rays of spring sunshine. Today, Luisa brought an intricate blanket that they all rested on, with Luca lying on his stomach and Dante munching beside him sitting cross-legged. A very flushed Giulia sat leaning back so that Luisa could access her hair easily.

Dante made to speak again, but Luca interrupted him. “I’ll tell you if you promise to keep your mouth shut and your food inside it.” The larger teen rolled his sky-blue eyes in annoyance but didn’t say anything, much to everyone’s relief.

“The headmaster wants me to start applying to universities.” Luca started, immediately his friends turned to him, their expressions matching.

“Cosa?!” Their table received several odd looks from the surrounding students who were simply trying to enjoy their meals.

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Apparently, there are universities already showing interest in me.”

“You don’t think they know about, ya know.” Giulia mimicked swimming, wincing when Luisa yanked her head back into place so she could continue braiding.

“I honestly don’t know, I told Signore Bonetti I don’t want universities to know about it, I didn’t think to ask if he’d already brought it up.” Luca allowed his head to rest heavily against the pages of his book. Up close, the letters were indiscernibly blurry.

“I’ve never heard of a sophomore applying for university before, my mom has never allowed it. Have you been getting tens this whole time?” Dante looked at him incredulously. A red flush crept its way up Luca’s neck.

“That and a few extra-curricular.” He mumbled. Who knew joining the swim team and being the chess club captain would be so impressive?

“Aspettare, why aren’t you happy? Isn’t this a good thing?” Luisa intervened, her honey eyes never leaving her work.

“I dunno, I’m worried about more people finding out, and then there’s Alb- my family, I don’t want to make any decisions without them.”

Giulia shot him a look through her curtain of hair, he responded by nudging her foot with his book. They hadn’t spoken much since that incident happened, something that Luca wasn’t eager to change.

“Ya know, I’ve heard my mom talk about these exchanges that universities will offer to promising students for a few weeks.” Dante tapped his lips thoughtfully. “You’d have to wait until the summer after next to do it, but that would allow you the chance to experience college life without the full commitment.”

“Veramente?” Luca felt a flicker of hope and excitement flicker in his stomach.

“Yeah, take a few classes, sleep in one of the dorms, meet your professors, etc. That kind of stuff.” Dante waved his hand nonchalantly, “You know my mom would be happy to help, it’s her job, but, like, she reaaally likes you. So, instant win.” He popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.

The bell sounded, causing the group of teens to quickly finish what they were doing. With a hum of contentment, Luisa tied Giulia’s hair and helped the other girl to her feet. Dante and Luca helped wrap the blanket up neatly, being sure to shake out any remains of Dante’s lunch. The group split into two and headed to their respective classrooms with the promise to meet after school per usual. Luca’s last two classes of the day were physics and music, and he hurried towards his physics class which rested resentfully on the other side of the school.

As he passed a darkened alcove, his ears picked up the sounds of muffled giggles and whispers. He slowed down against his better judgment and peered around the corner of faded, blue lockers that lined the walls. Two boys, at least a year older than him, were leaning against each other in the darkened hallway. The tall, lanky blonde Luca recognized from the group of teens that Luisa had soaked near the beginning of the school year. The shorter brunette was unrecognizable, especially with him facing away from Luca and most of his body being overshadowed by Lanky.

He knew he was interrupting a private moment, but Luca couldn’t find it within himself to look away. Lanky leaned down and began to gently press kisses to Brunette’s neck who laughed breathlessly in response. Luca felt his stomach flip at the sight, and if he gripped his books harder than necessary, well, that was nobody else’s business. He wondered if Alberto would kiss him like that, or if he would prefer to have his own neck pressed with gentle ministrations. The thought made him sigh forlornly and rest his head non too gently on the lockers before remembering he wasn’t alone. The two boys jerked apart as if burned but Luca was already turning the corner at the end of the hallway before either could see him.

03 Maggio 1970

“Finalmente!” Luisa exclaimed, slumping against her towel in the sand. Luca could only continue to itch at his skin, flakes peeling off and leaving red scores wherever his nails scraped. Next to him, Dante was already removing his clothing, the pale moonlight making his skin glow like marble. The tall Italian hid a yawn behind his hand, his eyelids still struggling to carry their own weight. Due to both Luca and Luisa being sea monsters, it was agreed that they couldn’t attend the beach during the day where people might see them. Thus, it had become a monthly ritual for midnight swims since Luca’s first year in Genoa. With the weather being too cold during the winter, Luca had to settle for long soaks in Signora Mia’s bath.

However, this time around his skin had felt particularly itchy, and transforming during his morning showers had revealed new scales pushing underneath his older ones. He had panicked and ran from the bathroom with nothing but a towel and a shriek. After a rushed phone call with his mother, Luca learned about the extra joys of growth spurts and puberty.

“You’re going to have to swim daily to help your body push out the old scales,” his mother explained in her matter-of-fact way. “Your tail fins especially will need the help and they’re also going to be the sorest.” Daniela’s voice turned sympathetic. “Just a few weeks more and then you’ll be home, we can help manage it from there.”

So, for the past week, Luca with his trio of friends would all pile into Mia’s small, bright yellow Fiat and drive the half-hour to the ocean at three in the morning. Without a second thought, he was in the water, pushing through briny waves allowing the ocean to peel scales away with gentle brushes. His mother had been right, his tail was instantly sore once it unfurled in the waves. The spines along his fins were growing longer and sharper, their bases pink with tender new skin. Luca did his best to stretch his body gently in the dark waters, taking brief breaks to check his location in comparison to everyone else on the beach. The signora could be seen snoring loudly on her quilt and Dante was doing his best impression of a starfish, his face mashed into the corner of the quilt. The only two who weren’t passed out were Giulia and Luisa, who appeared to be in serious conversation near the water’s edge.

Luca dove back into the cool depths, the water burned his eyes in a barely noticeable way, and he wondered if it was because more tourists visited Genoa in comparison to Porto Rosso. There were also fewer fish here, although a stray school of fish could be found here or there. He felt a familiar tug in his chest at the thought of Porto Rosso’s waters. The year was finally coming to an end, with finals taking place for the next few weeks, and then Giulia and he would be heading home. Luca grinned freely as he thought about Alberto again, the tug growing stronger in his chest the more he thought about him. He wanted so badly to talk to his friend about his newfound feelings, but there was also the risk of losing Alberto over said feelings. And then there was the decision of attending university in two years, who knew what could happen during that time? The fifteen-year-old groaned in frustration, sending a burst of bubbles to the surface. A smoothhound shark swam past him, appearing to roll its eyes at his dramatics. Luca stuck his tongue out in defense, not willing to argue with a shark at the moment.

When he rolled onto the beach with a swell, the sun was beginning to crest over the ocean’s face. Giulia and Luisa both nodded to him, neither having moved from their spot on the sand.

“Did you want to swim a bit before we head back?” Luca asked Luisa, already knowing the answer. The Sicilian girl smiled gently at his offer before shaking her head in a negative.

“Is it a self-conscious thing because I totally get that. But just to be very clear, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Luca balked at Giulia’s sudden boldness. The redhead in question looked at him as if to ask why he’d let her say that her face turning the same shade as her locks. “Sorry,” she muttered, wrapping her arms around her knees. “that was too much.”

Luisa had the most genuine smile on her face that Luca had seen in their entire time together. She wrapped arms the color of caffè around Giulia, pressing her grin into her shoulder.

“You’re too cute, Giulietta.”

Giulia looked dazed out of her mind, her face the definition of a satellite that had gone to space and made no motion of returning to earth.

Pulling away, Luisa’s expression turned carefully neutral, and she appeared to be at war with something in her thoughts. As the sun began to pour its warm rays along the sandy shores of Genoa, the young sea monster seemed to come to terms with something. Sighing, she gracelessly flopped forward and began to push her fingers deep beneath the sand’s surface.

“When I was really small, I was taken from my parents by fishermen.” Luisa began slowly, “I was sold to a Circo da baraccone in Napoli, and I was their star of the show. The circus was filled with other people who had anomalies, like me. For the most part, they were really nice.”

“For the most part?” Luca asked quietly. He suddenly felt oddly cold, even with the rays drying his skin.

“Our… master,” Luisa bared her teeth at the word, “was not kind. He wanted perfection instantly and he was very greedy, he barely met our basic needs for food and water. Instead, he would spend money on alcohol and parties with powerful people.” Luisa traced vicious lines through the sand, contrasting light and dark with her fingers.

“When he was particularly ubriaco, he would wake us up at all hours of the night and run through shows with us. Every time we would make a mistake, he would use his whip.” Her fingers stopped. “I was just seven years old.” She whispered.

Beside her, Giulia had become rigid, her face pale and her cheeks were glistening with tears.

“One night, he was more violent than usual, and he knocked over a lantern. The whole circus went up in flames. In all the chaos, my tank broke and I was afraid I would die without water, I’d never made the change before. When I realized I could breathe, it didn’t matter because the fire was too big by that point. The smoke and heat were everywhere, and I couldn’t run.

“But then, Marta came back for me.” Luisa gave a small smile and finally met their stricken gazes.

“She carried me to safety, and we escaped together, never once looking back.”

“Is that what brought you here to Genoa?” Giulia’s voice shook, though she tried to hide it. Luisa turned to her and laced their fingers together and they both held on tightly.

“No, I was only nine. Marta tried to help me find my parents, but I couldn’t remember where I had been taken from and I couldn’t find other sea monsters near Napoli. Actually,” she finally looked at Luca, “you’re the first one I’ve encountered in all these years.”

“I’m sorry,” Luca murmured. Luisa raised her eyebrows in question.

“Don’t be,” She answered easily, though her voice caught, “for the first time, in a long time, I have hope.”

“Anyways,” she continued, “we moved to Sicily to avoid recognition and Marta did what she could to teach me how to be a human, including teaching me my letters and numbers. Eventually, she was able to enroll me into a school.” Here, she frowned.

“I didn’t mean to reveal myself, but there was an accident with water, and I changed. I escaped school, which wasn’t hard to do when everyone is afraid of you. Marta and I fled here and changed our names, she’s sacrificed for me so much and I feel terrible about it.” Tears began to leave pink scale marks over her skin.

“No,” Luca corrected gently. He shared a look with Giulia, and wordlessly they embraced the weeping teen. “You did what you had to to survive. And there is no guilt or shame in that.” Luisa sobbed harder, years of heartache bleeding out and dampening the crystals of sand. They stayed that way until there was no guilt left.

[silverlake-rp]

Good day, residents of Silver Lake! In the April Newsletter below you will find outlined the events and happenings in our beautiful neighborhood this month.

What YOUR CHARACTER can do during these events:

You may include any of these happenings in your starters, incorporate them into your threads, text threads, social media posts, and so forth! The sky is the limit.

What’s ON. Here are just a few things that will be happening around town this month:

Easter Egg Hunt @ Silver Lake Meadows — 4 April

Come on down to the meadows for a day of fun and games! We’ll be hosting an Eggstravaganza Easter Egg hunt with lots of exciting prizes, but other events as well including but not limited to: egg-and-spoon races, egg roll, sack races, and DIY arts and crafts galore. Non-denominational so all are welcome! 

Easter Treats @ Milk — 2-9 April

All week long, we will be having Easter themed treats over at Milk! This includes our infamous easter egg cheesecakes (yes, they’re back!), and all manner of special, limited time only ice cream sandwiches, including our Peeps themed ones and a carrot cake sandwich you’ll go positively hoppy for!

Grilled Cheese Sandwich Day @ Golden Griddle — 12 April

In honor of this most sacred day, you can order a free grilled cheese sandwich (yes, free!) at Golden Griddle when you order other menu items. Offer valid all day long — even after midnight! 

60′s Night @ Los Globos — 16 April

Did you miss out on Beatlemania? Wish you could’ve been at Woodstock when Jimi Hendrix had iconic performance? Well, it’s too late for these things, but you can relive some of the charm at Globos’ 60′s night. Expect a night of The Stones, Aretha Franklin, The Supremes, Beach Boys, Beatles, Marvin Gaye, The Mamas and the Papas, Chuck Berry, James Brown and more. Dressing up in your flower power best is also highly encouraged! Prizes for the best dressed! Rumor has it that you’ll get free tickets to Globos events for the rest of the year!

Record Store Day @ Cosmic Vinyl — 17 April

It’s every vinyl collector’s favorite day today, so be sure to not miss out on this holiday at Cosmic Vinyl. Expect heavily discounted vinyl, swaps, special re-releases, limited signed editions and more. Also don’t miss a very special acoustic set from a well known musician! We won’t tell you his name, but it does rhyme with Pac DeParco. 

4/20 @ Peachtree Dispensary — 20 April

We would be remiss to leave out the greatest holiday of the year, well, according to Dusk Peachtree, that is. Come for the free sample edibles, stay for the marijuana themed movie marathon, special talks by CBD experts, and much, much more!

Dungeons & Dragons Night @ Five By Night — 23 April

Dust off your rare dice set! This Friday we will be hosting Silverlake’s biggest campaign in history. With no less than twelve tables set up in our main room, and a skilled host of dungeon masters ready to guide you into this magical world, just turn up with your friends ready to play and embark on creative new adventures. No previous experience necessary! 

Arbor Day @ Silver Lake Meadows — 30 April

Show your love for Mother Earth by coming down to the meadows and helping us plant some trees this Arbor day! No signup necessary, anyone is welcome, the more hands on deck the better. Coffee and refreshments to be generously provided by Donut Farm. 

redcliff street bulletin

Whats that the residents of Redcliff have woken up to? Ah yes, the glorious sound of silence! The road works from last month are complete and were substantially under budget. You’re all going to sleep easier with the gift baskets provided from the construction company, contents include: a relaxing massage courtesy of the CliffRed Spa, and an assortment of gifts from the farmers market! ( a candle, some fresh groceries, cookies! ) Almost makes all of those extra steps on the Fitbit from last month worth it! 

silverwood terrace bulletin

Is that a paparazzo? In our exclusive neighborhood? How irritating. Rumor has it that Hollywood heartthrob Jack Mefron, freshly off the market, has moved into his girlfriend’s Silverwood Terrace pad. Most unfortunate for the residents of the Terrace, because packs of paparazzi will be cropping up here and there, for the entirety of this month. 

cinema paradiso screenings

Friday 2 April:  Spring Breakers + The Beach Bum ( Harmony Korine double bill)  Saturday 3 April: Rushmore Sunday 4 April: Hop (2011) + The Passion of the Christ (2004) (double bill)

Friday 9 April:  Thoroughbreds Saturday 10 April: Boogie Nights + Magnolia ( PTA double bill)  Sunday 11 April: The Game (1997) 

Friday 16 April: Men in Black + Men in Black II (double bill) Saturday 17 April: Charlie’s Angels (2000) Sunday 18 April: The Brady Bunch Movie

Friday 23 April:  All About Eve + What Ever Happened To Baby Jane? (Bette Davis double bill)  Saturday 24 April: The Room (quote-along extravaganza)  Sunday 25 April:  Spy (2015)

happy birthday to...

10th April: Matthew Adams (33)

13th April: Remi Fisher (26)

18th April: Hayley Karatan (25)

29th April: Eleanor Atwood (29)

[boioneder]

Ｉｆ Ｉ Ｆｅｌｌ (2)

Ｐｌｏｔ: Falling in love wasn't Paul's style. He loved making girls and boys swoon with his looks and his personality, so what was the point in settling for one person. Well, when Paul saw (y/n) across the room, he could only describe the sensation as crazy.

Ｇｅｎｒｅ: romance • humor

Ｒａｔｉｎｇ: PG+

Ａ/ｎ: A short story, bare with me because I haven't done this shit in years. GIFS ARE NOT MINE. I'll put in the tags if anything is mine.

(h/c) - hair colour

(y/n) - your name.

(e/c) - eye colour

(Y/n) had been around the block when it came to celebrities. Dated one here, maybe slept with that one guy; (y/n) he had a big problem though.

He always got too attached.

He was so focused on acting straight, that as soon as the opportunity came about, he would get hooked.

He had already been through quite a few heartbreaks and he had no intention on having anymore.

(Y/n) tapped his script on the desk in front of him.

As an anchorman, he always covered the latest news. The Beatlemania coming across the sea to America was the topic; and had been for some time.

(Y/n) and his partner looked into the camera, ready with a smile.

"Good Morning New York, today our topic is still all the rage of the Beatle Craze." (Y/n) began, giving a smile to his partner to continue.

The screams of girls could be heard from the top of their hotel. The men looked over at their balcony, waving to the screaming fans below them.

Paul laughed and jumped on one of the beds, grabbing a pillow.

George and Ringo took their seats, chairs of course.

John took the second bed, laying across it and looking at Paul.

"Wouldn't a nap be lovely Paul?" John asked, his voice coming out in a comical way. Paul scoffed at the male, turning over.

Ringo walked over to their television, changing it to the morning news. "Oi, boys look." Ringo called them.

All eyes looked at their black and white television, The familiar face of (y/n) grabbing Paul's attention. The men watched, their smiles growing as (y/n) and his partner spoke about their latest hit single.

The news signed off, the men letting out a sigh they hadn't realized they were holding.

Paul in particular, laid out flat on his back on the bed. "Did you guys see who that was?" Paul asked openly, wondering if he was the only one who noticed.

"Ai, looked like that kid you talk to the other night." George replied. Paul sighed, thinking about (y/n) and their interaction.

"You think he'd hate to see me again?" Paul asked, once again allowing any of his members to reply. John scoffed before laying on his side to look at Paul. "I think he would, honestly." John replied with a cheeky grin.

Paul took the pillow in his grasp and chucked it at John, hitting him in the face.

Ringo also spoke up, "What did you even say to him? He seemed awfully content with himself as he left." Ringo asked, having George and John look over at Paul.

Paul could feel the embarrassment creeping in as he bluntly replied. "He knew I wanted to sleep with him and he told me no." Paul said, taking another pillow and pulling it over his face.

George and John laughed, finding the explanation hilarious.

Ringo slowly shook his head, "Looks like you need a new lesson in flirting." Ringo replied. Paul finally sat up from the bed, holding his pillow. "I'm sure... If they're an Anchorman, we'll be seeing him later at the press conference, ey?" Paul stated, earning John's attention.

"You're right dear friend. I'm sure you could have another chance. Although, if they turn you down again, then he might not be worth your time." He remarked, now sitting himself up as well.

Paul chuckled, "Thanks for the support. I appreciate it." Paul added, sarcasm in his voice.

"You're very welcome, now.. How about we get a smoke?" John exclaimed, standing up now. Ringo and George also stood up from their seats.

They all looked back at Paul who also stood up, fixing his tie.

With that, the men left, but Paul's thoughts never faltered. Seeing (Y/n) again will be entertaining. Especially since now.. He had to be enthusiastic about meeting them.

Paul laughed to himself, ignoring his members teasing.

(Y/n) fixed his coat as he walk before looking at his cameraman. "What do you think of the tie?" He asked, earning a shrug from the female. She could care less.

(Y/n) huffed, continuing to a busy room. The Beatles, superstars who are quickly taking over New York with its mania. It was no surprise to see just about every new media out there jam packed into the room.

In front, a long table, ready for the four men to come out. (Y/n) took a seat at the front, thankfully reserved by his company. He looked at his partner, "What do you think about them?" He asked. The female smiled, "They're cute, I won't lie." She replied.

(Y/n) scoffed, crossing his arms. "They can't be all that special. Celebrities are all the same." He stated. But, just as he did, his partner turned on the camera along with everyone in the room.

The four, Ringo, George, John, and Paul walked across to their seats, smiling and waving at everyone in the room.

(Y/n) didn't want to, but unfortunately, his eyes were caught by Paul, who smiled just a little brighter. (Y/n) flinched, quickly turning his gaze away to his partner.

He straightened himself, not wanting to look like an idiot. After all, he was just an anchorman. It's not like he was anyone special to them.

In no time, the group and the audience began to converse. Majority were questions around controversy and fake news. They made snarly remarks, making the insults slide right off their backs.

Due to his companies reservation, (Y/n) was given the opportunity to ask one question to them. As their turn came, he thought to himself.

His company's demographic is for teens through to adults, so he needed something to grab the attention of all age groups.

Nothing complex, something extremely simple so as not to fry their brains.

His thoughts were broken, as his turn was announced. He looked at the four men, mic in hand as he spoke.

"Gentlemen, the people of New York need to know, w-what sort of things do you look for in a girl? We all know girls across the world are smitten, b-but what does a girl need to stand a chance at winning your hearts?"

The four gentlemen looked at each other, the room silent except for the clicking of cameras. John began, looking directly at (Y/n).

"I think I'd definitely want a them to actually love me. It's a quality that isn't found too often. I don't know, I just expect it to happen without my knowledge." He explained, seeming quite genuinely in his response. George nodded in agreement just as Paul began to speak as well.

"Yes, it's not like a person wakes up one morning and says, oh I'm going out to find love." Paul added, moving his eyes to look at (Y/n), his attention on Paul as well.

"It's something you don't realize is happening until you're smitten." Paul said jokingly. The room also chuckled at his response, but Paul didn't look away from (Y/n), who focused on his little notebook.

It was exactly what he hoping he'd hear. The girls are going to be all over it in the paper. Just as he finished, he glanced at Paul. He did a double take, finally looking back at Paul with a curious face.

Paul chuckled to himself, shaking his head before looking away.

(Y/n) continued to look at him curiously before looking back at his little notebook, the males words written down. He read it over once more, furrowing his brows as he reread Paul's response.

'its something you don't realize is happening until you're smitten.'

[nerianasims]

Billboards #1 1964

Under the cut.

Bobby Vinton – “There! I’ve Said It Again” -- January 4, 1964

*sob* This song is so bad. Is there even a beat at all? It's so slow. It should not be so slow. Vinton sounds both self-satisfied and whiny. It's a love song, I suppose, but this doesn't sound anything like love to me. It sounds like it was created by the Moral Majority. Help, I need someone.

The Beatles – “I Want To Hold Your Hand” -- February 1, 1964

Yeah, I did that on purpose. It's fashionable to hate on The Beatles these days, but I will not be joining in. "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" is not one of their best songs, but if I'd been there at the time, I'd have been screaming my head off for them too. After going through the past couple years of hits, I feel ready to scream for them now. There's a beat. There's forward motion. There's understanding how to sing a song. That wasn't totally lacking on the charts until them -- Ray Charles, after all, and some others -- but what a wasteland it's been generally. The bad stuff has been so very, very bad. Anyway. "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" -- okay song today, but pure oxygen in 1964.

The Beatles – “She Loves You” -- March 21, 1964

This is one of my favorite songs. "Hey idiot, this great girl you thought you lost due to your idiocy still loves you." Implied: Either you go on her knees to get her back or I go after her. And it doesn't sound anything like any #1 I've covered so far. Major interesting bassline, great harmonies, good drums, guitar, everything lines up perfectly.

The Beatles – “Can’t Buy Me Love” -- April 4, 1964

What else is there to say at this point? It's good. It's true. It's romantic. It's fast. McCartney knows how to sing. Notice that none of these three hits in a row are heartbreak songs? There have been way too many of those on this list, and most of them were bad. These songs are happy, and not fake happy. They're driven. They're alive.

Louis Armstrong – “Hello, Dolly!” -- May 9, 1964

The person to finally kick The Beatles down the charts was one of our greatest homegrown artists. It's like people had finally woken up after Bobby Vinton's horrible song in January. Not Louis Armstrong's best, but it's Louis Armstrong. So it's thoroughly enjoyable.

Mary Wells – “My Guy” -- May 16, 1964

Motown is well and truly here. I adore this song. It's sweet without being cloying, the beat is fun, and of course Mary Wells is amazing. And as a woman whose taste in men has never matched up with what I'm supposed to find attractive, and has taken a lot of crap for that, I connect with the song personally.

The Beatles – “Love Me Do” -- May 30, 1964

I think this is the worst of the Beatles' hits so far. Which doesn't make it bad. The harmonica's great. But the lyrics are kinda, well, dumb. Thankfully they're dumb and cheery, not dumb and doleful like so much I've covered.

The Dixie Cups – “Chapel Of Love” -- June 6, 1964

Earworm alert. That hook is a killer. The song gets at the overwhelmed, slightly stunned happiness that comes from getting married. We went to city hall, not to the chapel, but the feeling's the same. I can't say whether I like the song exactly -- the hook is so overpowering, it doesn't really give you a chance. It's in your head now, forever.

Peter & Gordon – “A World Without Love” -- June 27, 1964

The narrator doesn't have a girlfriend so he's going to hide in his room until his true love shows up. Or maybe he was dumped by his true love and therefore is going to hide? It's not very clear, which is unusual for a song written by Paul McCartney. But there's a reason he gave it to someone else. It's actually a fine song, good harmonies, good beat, very teenage sensibility without being annoying. Not too special after the last six songs though.

The Beach Boys – “I Get Around” -- July 4, 1964

I can never hear this without picturing the 1986 film Flight of the Navigator. As usual with Beach Boys songs, the music is excellent and the lyrics are deeply dumb and repetitive. So it's a fun song, but not one I go out of my way to listen to.

The Four Seasons – “Rag Doll” -- July 18, 1964

Gah Frankie Valli's falsetto again. Also it's overproduced. This guy loves a poor girl but his father says nope, she's a poor so you can't marry her, and he just accepts it. I really don't like anything about The Four Seasons.

The Beatles – “A Hard Day’s Night” -- August 1, 1964

My mom and I once rented the movie A Hard Day's Night, and were surprised at how fun it was. (She was a little young to experience the full force of Beatlemania when it hit.) The song written for the movie: Also very fun, and good, and sexy. "But when I get home to you I'll find the things that you do will make me feel all right." Things sure changed fast in 1964.

Dean Martin – “Everybody Loves Somebody” -- August 15, 1964

Dean Martin was constitutionally incapable of being serious. Sometimes his smarm worked. Not here. It could be worse, but it could be a lot better. I'd have been much happier if it had been just about anyone else's version, though Peggy Lee's is my favorite.

The Supremes – “Where Did Our Love Go” -- August 22, 1964

Have you noticed how good pop music suddenly got? It's not just The Beatles. This is a heartbreak song without a hint of schmaltz. It makes you feel better, not worse, and you can even dance to it. But it's still sad. Motown was amazing in its heyday.

The Animals – “The House Of The Rising Sun” -- September 5, 1964

I've loved this song since I was a kid. And I understood it; "gambling causes ruin" is perfectly comprehensible to an 8-year old. It's dark and real, and Eric Burdon's voice and singing give me chills. The keyboard is like nothing I've heard on this list before. I think this might be goth. It's something great, anyway.

Roy Orbison – “Oh, Pretty Woman” -- September 26, 1964

I hate the movie Pretty Woman. A lot. This song became a hit again when the movie came out. Obviously I associate this song with that movie. So I don't have an opinion about the song that's separate from a movie I hate and that Roy Orbison had nothing to do with. I'm passing on this one.

Manfred Mann – “Do Wah Diddy Diddy” -- October 17, 1964

Two number ones in a row about a pretty woman walking down the street. They sort of sound similar in parts too. Anyway, pretty woman walking down the street singing nonsense, narrator ends up making out with and then getting engaged to her. It's silly, and it's okay. "Okay" has a much higher bar than it did just last year.

The Supremes – “Baby Love” -- October 31, 1964

I have a problem with The Supremes, and it's that their first four #1 hits have exactly the same subject matter, and that subject matter is being in love with a man who no longer loves them. After this list, I'm sick of heartbreak songs, and they were never my favorite anyway. Four love songs in a row and I'd have been happy. Dance songs, ditto. But if we must have heartbreak songs, can we have a little righteous anger too? Not just plaintiveness? Anyway, "Baby Love" is a Supremes song, which means if you hear it far apart from their other songs, it's great. When I hear them together like this, though, the formula gets painful.

The Shangri-Las – “Leader Of The Pack” -- November 28, 1964

I hope this song was meant to be funny, because I find it goddamn hilarious. How'd she meet a bad boy whom she knew was sad at the candy store? I like the message that you shouldn't dump your boyfriend solely because your daddy tells you to. But I don't think there's any intended message here. I think it might be a song making fun of the 50s motorcycle bad boy aesthetic and all those "girlfriend/boyfriend died" schmaltzfests people suffered through.

Lorne Greene – “Ringo” -- December 5, 1964

A baritone spoken word piece about a Western outlaw. I doubt it would have gone anywhere if Ringo Starr hadn't been named Ringo. It's probably good for its genre, since Lorne Greene was a good actor, but I can't tell.

The Supremes – “Come See About Me” -- December 19, 1964

It doesn't sound like a heartbreak song, but of course it is. And a super severe one; she gave up all her friends for him, and then he left her too. But she still wants him back. Eesh. Of course Diana Ross doesn't sound sad singing it, because she never sounds really sad singing these songs. The technique obviously worked, but the more I think about it, the more I don't like it. It's a really good song. And not for me, now that I've actually thought this much about it.

The Beatles – “I Feel Fine” -- December 26, 1964

A sitar has been spotted! Anyway, he and his baby are in love, and he brags about buying her diamond rings. The Beatles never had any shame about buying the women in their songs stuff to make them happy. I like that. And I like this song.

BEST OF 1964: "My Guy". Yep, not a Beatles song. This is thoroughly subjective, after all. But what a lot of great songs there were this year, and how relieved I am to be able to say that. WORST OF 1964: "There! I've Said It Again", overwhelmingly.

[dweemeister]

Diego Maradona (2019, United Kingdom)

You may know Asif Kapadia as the director of the biographical documentaries Senna (2010; Brazilian Formula 1 racer Ayrton Senna) and Amy (2015; English singer-songwriter Amy Winehouse). Both Senna and Winehouse died in tragic circumstances, their legends remaining incomplete for many. For his third film in an informal trilogy of documentaries on early fame, its corrosiveness, and the public’s role in celebrity culture, Kapadia decided to challenge himself by profiling a living figure. Argentinian soccer star Diego Maradona is often considered one of the greatest to have ever played the Beautiful Game. Though it has been more than twenty years since Maradona kicked a ball in a competitive match, his legend and personality have loomed over his fellow countryman – and my personal choice for the best active footballer – Lionel Messi. Kapadia’s documentary does not cover the entirety of Maradona’s career. Instead, it focuses on Maradona’s time at S.S.C. Napoli (���Napoli” will be used to refer to the club and the city interchangeably and, sometimes, simultaneously) and his participation at the 1986 and 1990 FIFA World Cups. These are the years, Kapadia posits, that formed the myth of Maradona, and the role of Neapolitans and Italians in creating and later rejecting that myth.

Glossed over are Maradona’s early career in Argentina (boyhood club Argentinos Juniors and Boca Juniors) and his turbulent time at F.C. Barcelona (plagued with injuries and ended when he instigated a brawl against victorious Athletic Bilbao after the 1984 Copa del Rey final). Already established as one of the best players in the world, Maradona’s dribbling ability, unpredictable acceleration, and goalscoring prowess attracted renown and stoked fear in any defender with their back towards the goalmouth. Though unquestionably dedicated to the sport and assiduous in training, Maradona could not shake off questions about his personal life. His reputation as a hard partier followed him from Catalonia to Napoli. Napoli, after surviving a relegation scrap in Serie A during the 1983-84 season, was a club desperate to escape its trappings as a perennial middling club with infrequent success. With Maradona, then-club President Corrado Ferlaino saw an opportunity to challenge the “Northern Giants”: Juventus, A.C. Milan, and Inter Milan.

What makes Diego Maradona intriguing to soccer fans and people who do not know the difference between a corner kick and a goal kick is twofold. First is its take on how the Maradona came to be an embodiment of Neapolitans and, more broadly, southern Italy. Second – and this extends beyond Maradona’s playing career – is the relationship between a celebrity and their adoring or loathing public. More on the latter shortly, as Maradona’s connection to Neapolitans sociologically leads to celebrity.

Since Italy’s unification in 1861, northern and southern Italy have been culturally and socioeconomically divided. The breadth and source of those divisions are numerous and cannot be sufficiently listed in this simple film review. In short, northern Italy is wealthy, cosmopolitan, industrial, a tech hub, capitalist, attractive to internal and external immigrants, trusting of regional and national government. Southern Italy is poorer, provincial, agrarian, suffering from high rates of emigration, more religious, more family-oriented, less trusting of regional and national government (for legitimate reasons), and is the operational center of the nation’s mafia organizations. The images and testimonies in this documentary are colored by this divide. With his father’s partial Native American descent and impoverished background, what made Maradona a folk hero to Neapolitans were his ruggedness, sheer force of hardscrabble will, and rebelliousness against the footballing establishment. It is also what made him despised among Ultras of the Northern Giants, that a player of his caliber dare sign for a southern upstart. When Maradona joined Serie A, hooliganism in European soccer was a blight on the sport. An excerpt of a chant sung by Juventus’ Ultras would be banned in today’s Serie A, but the hatred is evident:

Even the dogs run too, the Neapolitans are coming. Sick with cholera. Victims of the earthquake. You never washed with soap. Napoli shit! Napoli cholera! You are the shame of the whole of Italy.

Using Maradona’s words – there are no contemporary talking heads in Kapadia’s film, only archival or audio-only interviews are used – he noticed, every time Napoli traveled to northern away games, that the team and their supporters were subject to racist behavior by the home fans. Perhaps playing with a chip on one’s shoulders is not the best way for an athlete to perform at their best, but Kapadia’s film argues that this propelled Maradona to be as great a player as he became. The public pressure and spectacle placed upon Maradona was immense. Think Beatlemania, but more localized and foisted upon one person, and that may be a merely adequate description of how Neapolitans viewed their sporting hero. Kapadia and editor Chris King (Kapadia’s two prior documentaries, 2010’s Exit Through the Gift Shop) splice together images of Maradona’s playing career, off-field shenanigans, and heartwarming moments with his family with astounding purpose. It might have been easy to start from the beginning, describing Maradona’s simple beginnings and the family that raised him. That Kapadia and King decide to begin with Maradona’s introduction to Napoli fans and the inconsistent first season – still better than a relegation scrap – provides a shot of adrenaline to start the film. Yes, this momentum is somewhat lost when they then resort to describing Maradona’s upbringing after completing the first season. Nevertheless, Maradona’s background is followed immediately by images and accounts of northern hostility – this structure provides a rawer illustration of the north-south divide through sport. And given southern Italy’s mafia presence, it makes the perfect transition into the elements that led to Maradona’s downfall in Napoli.

That downfall, of course, would not occur for another several years and well after Maradona led Argentina to win the 1986 FIFA World Cup in Mexico – a victory that, characteristically for Maradona, attracted controversy and solidified his reputation, internationally, as one of the sport’s magicians and as a shameless cheater. My apologies to readers from England and Germany for whatever unwanted memories you have been reminded of. The prelude to the troubles that would follow come from one of Maradona’s most trusted confidants, personal trainer Fernando Signorini (also served as fitness coach for the Argentinian national team when Maradona served as head coach at the 2010 FIFA World Cup), who sees the past – and probably the present, too – Maradona as someone who had to adopt separate personas to become the greatest footballer of his era:

Diego was a kid who had insecurities, a wonderful boy. Maradona was the character he had to come up with in order to face the demands of the football business and the media. Maradona couldn’t show any weakness. One day I told him that with Diego I would go to the end of the world, but with Maradona I wouldn’t take a step.

Maradona himself admits this reality. The film agrees with Signorini and Maradona’s beliefs that the latter would not be as legendary a footballer as he was without “Maradona.” In becoming the savior of Napoli, Neapolitans clamored for Maradona’s attention – from those unable to afford tickets to attend matches to his friendship with Carmine Giuliano of the Giuliano clan of the Nuova Famiglia. With fans and the media’s excessive demands for on-the-field performance and availability, near-religious fervor for the club’s messiah, and rumors (and realities) of Maradona’s infidelity, the Giulianos provided an outlet from the cameras and microphones being shoved in his personal space. That outlet was cocaine. Maradona became dependent on the mafia for his fix, to help him escape the emotional and psychological pain life in Napoli had brought.

His addiction would not be the sole reason for his fall from grace but, by the end of his time there, the Neapolitan fans had discarded him as quickly as they anointed them his savior. Shunned, ostracized, and regarded as having turned his back on what made him so popular, the place where he had become one of the best soccer players ever wanted nothing more to do with him, let alone help him conquer the personal demons that had infected his soul. One moment at a Christmas party, only a few months before his departure from Napoli, captures Maradona staring emptily at nothing, as people carouse around him. The camera fixates on his blank face; Kapadia has the sound decrescendo to nothing. It is unsettling filmmaking. Maradona knows the end is near, and that he will have to answer for his decisions sooner than when he will be ready.

Kapadia’s penchant for messy, dramatic public figures made him well-suited to tackle Diego Maradona. The documentary’s non-match footage is pieced together from passages of an aborted behind-the-scenes documentary that began production in 1981 – half of the film stock was lying in Napoli; the rest gathering dust in the Buenos Aires home of Maradona’s ex-wife. Diego Maradona might not be revelatory to any Italian or Argentinian who has memories watching the diminutive superstar terrorize defenses live or on grainy ‘80s television sets. Some details – including Maradona’s demands for a transfer away from Napoli in the summer of 1990, the traumas of Maradona’s self-declared lack of responsibility to his illegitimate son, and how a single-minded desire to provide for his parents and siblings – surface at select times in the film, only to be mentioned fleetingly near the conclusion. But noting that is based on a life still not withdrawn from the spotlight, that may be excused.

In an interview with Roger Bennett, Kapadia describes his subject as the bridge between the black-and-white television era of Pelé and the online-fueled (but, when compared to Maradona, tightly guarded) present of Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo. Maradona, who consented to a wide-ranging in-person interview with Kapadia, is as introspective in his commentaries as he has ever been. Here, he can be Diego, fully cognizant of his vices and the suffering he has caused to his family and friends. But in public, such as his brazen display in the stands during Argentina’s Round of 16 World Cup match versus Nigeria in 2018, he must be Maradona the character.

No matter the era, Maradona has always been an entertaining subject – modern footballers are more sanitized due to the now-constant scrutiny of social media and 24/7 sporting news networks (those like Zlatan Ibrahimović are endangered exceptions) – even in quieter moments. Perhaps, noting the psychological wreckage Maradona reckons with even today, this Argentinian’s story, by way of Spain and Italy, is a warning to fans and professional footballers alike. Do sporting fans understand the consequences when they declare their heroes as living gods? And why can it be so easy to dispose of these allegedly infallible celebrities? The answers, if there are any in this film, are not easy to find. Even Kapadia himself will not draw simple conclusions, knowing that the myth of Maradona persists, evangelized by no less than the soccer superstar himself.

My rating: 7.5/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. Half-points are always rounded down. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.

[boycottphil]

Omg if you're writing usuk can you please do something involving the Beatles/Beatlemania or the British Invasion in general? Theres so much good material there but no one really writes about it. I will love you forever

For context, I am taking fanfic requests!

This was a lot of fun to write! I wasn’t too sure if this is what you meant, anon, but if it’s not, feel free to send another ask! I’d be happy to write more. Anyway, enjoy!

Pairing: UsUk Rating: T Warnings: Strong language, mentions of blood, smoking (cigarettes)  Word count: 2026  

Imagine hundreds of thousands of people screaming your name. Imagine hundreds of thousands of people obsessing over your every step, word, move… Imagine loving every second of the intrusive behaviour displayed by fans.

Arthur, the lead singer of the “best band in history,” lived off of such things. Fame… It brought him joy, joy which he previously thought was impossible for him to feel. He was surrounded by security, yet his favourite moments were those when a fan managed to get to him, and looked at him with amazement in their eyes…

Looked at him as if he were a god.

[[MORE]]

Now, one could say that such thoughts and such behaviour was perhaps a bit… unhealthy. And one would be right. Arthur was sick; getting off on his own fame, and as he gathered more and more fans all over the world with each tour, he felt better. And better.

His band was good, not the best band in the world, per say, but definitely good. Their music was largely enjoyed by a female audience. Girls loved to imagine the songs being sung to them personally. They were written to be perceived that way. No names of girls were mentioned… no hints at any particular gender were given either.

Now, there were rumours, as there always are surrounding any band as huge as Arthur’s. Rumours like selling their souls to the devil, rumours like being robots invested by the government. Rumours like… being gay.

Arthur could only benefit from rumours that claimed he was an alien. It added more mystery to his character, more reasons for people to check out his music, come to his concerts. However…

Rumours that claimed he was gay could destroy his career. The thing is… he is gay. He does not fancy women at all. He couldn’t care less when girls form whole crowds and take off their shirts and bras. He didn’t care about his bandmate’s groupies offering threesomes or foursomes or ogies. He’d rather bang his bandmates if he didn’t despise them all.

He came quite close to having his career ruined, though.

One day, while touring the United States, they stopped in middle-of-nowhere-town of some State that Arthur thought was made up by the Americans to make it to 50 states in the first place. He was still convinced there aren’t 50 of them, but 10 divided into five parts each. But he would not express that opinion. Lest someone shot him for even mentioning the USA in any context that doesn’t presents it as the best country on the planet.

It was a town they were merely passing through, but they had to stop for fuel and food and for the drivers to rest a bit as well. Arthur wore his sunglasses and had clothes on that he wasn’t known for wearing, and decided to walk around town a bit. They had a few hours, and he wasn’t about to pass the opportunity to stretch his legs and turn off his brain a bit. Touring meant little walking and too much work, so moments such as those were few and far between.

He had purchased a box of cigarettes, which he planned to get through before he had to be locked in a fast moving vehicle again; in which he wasn’t allowed to smoke. With a fag already lit and dangling off his lips, he walked out onto the pavement, ready to resume his walk just when…

He was bumped into by some 5 foot 6 tall boy. He groaned as his cigarette fell into a puddle, together with his sunglasses. He grumbled and hurried to retrieve his glasses but, well… the kid already saw.

“Arthur Kirkland?! No way!!” He yelled too loudly, his voice far too deep for what Arthur assumed was a 13 year old boy.

“Shh!” Arthur shushed and then wrapped an arm around the other’s head and covered his mouth so he couldn’t make more noise. He felt screaming behind his hand and the boy seemed to be losing his mind just from being touched. Arthur did love attention… but not in some hick town when he was looking for a quiet place to smoke and meditate until he had to leave again.

He dragged the other into an alley- not a suspicious thing to do at all- and shushed him until the other stopped freaking out. He rambled about being touched and carried by Arthur, all of which was technically true, but it sounded so much more dramatic coming out of the kid’s mouth.

“Okay, listen here, kid-” he started, but was promptly interrupted.

“Kid? I’m 19!” He argued.

Arthur looked annoyed, but slightly less on-edge about dragging him into a dark alley. “Whatever, mate. Just stop screaming like a bloody schoolgirl. I don’t want this whole town to know we’re here. The paparazzi would hound us for hundreds of miles, like they did in the last town this happened in.” He explained as he lit his second cigarette- he was mourning the first.

“So you really are Arthur Kirkland?” The other asked, already taking off the backpack he had on and reaching for the first paper and pen he had. “Would you please sign this?” He asked, his bright blue eyes shining in anticipation.

Arthur frowned, but he took the pen and, without really looking or even thinking about it, produced a perfect loopy signature.

“Whoaa… That’s so cool! My name’s Alfred so could you…”

Arthur added, ‘for Alfred, stay cute’ at the bottom, as he does for all signatures, merely replacing the name.

“You think I’m cute?! Wow, Arthur Kirkland thinks I’m cute!!” Alfred said, his voice so high pitched in excitement that Arthur almost really did think he was cute.

“No, mate- I write that for everyone. Most of my fans are girls, you see and-” once again, he was interrupted.

“But you do think I’m cute! I can tell. You keep looking at me,” Alfred insisted, perhaps a bit cheekily. Arthur blinked, trying not to seem too taken  aback.

“I, uh… I don’t… What?” He was usually never speechless. He always had a way to make a fan swoon over him with smooth comebacks and flirty lines that made girls go absolutely mad. But this was a boy. A boy who had called him out on his obvious interest in him, and a boy who, while excited to see him, clearly didn’t think he was a god.

Weird. He was supposed to always be seen as a god. What else could he be seen as?

“So… if you could keep this meeting to yourself for the next 24 hours, that would be bloody fantastic. Now, if you excuse me…” he mumbled and started walking away. He thought Alfred would be satisfied enough with that; he got an autograph and a hug- sort of. But no…

“So where are you headed now?” Came the American voice of the 19 year old who just decided to tag along.

Arthur felt his blood beginning to boil just a bit. “That is literally none of your business. Literally.” He sighed, exasperated.

Alfred fell into step beside him, keeping up easily even as the Brit tried to speed up. “Aw, come on! I won’t tell. I know how to keep secrets! I’m great at it. This one time, my cousin Austin, he told me that he and his aunt on his mum’s side-”

Arthur stopped abruptly. “How the fuck are you good at keeping secrets?”

“Well… I… You don’t know my cousin Austin, do you?”

Arthur groaned and kept walking, now deciding to ignore Alfred entirely. The teen though; he decided that he would ignore Arthur ignoring him. The Brit continued walking and smoking his cigarette as if Alfred wasn’t right there, and talking his ears off about dinosaurs and spaceships and how much he loved boys and how he knew Arthur could relate and-

Wait.

They had at that point reached a park, which was perhaps the size of two average backyards. There was no one around, and Arthur really appreciated it.

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked, his blood really getting to a simmer.

“Well, you know… You’ve never been seen with a girl, you never touch girls, you don’t talk about girls, you don’t even seem interested to all the girls we just passed while getting here. At all. You’re gay, and I can tell,” Alfred claimed.

“I have absolutely no idea where you get those ideas from. How would you know what I do in my free time?” He crossed his arms, perhaps a bit defensively.

“You look at my lips and arms so much, and you’ve looked at my ass too. I’m not dumb, you know! There’s no shame in being gay, Arthur. It’s all just-”

Arthur was angry at that point. He threw his half finished cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, then turned to face Alfred. “I don’t know who you think you are, but if you’re gay and you think making up lies is going to turn me gay, then forget about it. All right? I don’t even mess with groupies in the first place. Would you kindly leave me the fuck alone now?” He said loudly, keeping his composure enough not to yell at this kid.

“You’re just mean and in denial because you think if you come out that girls will stop obsessing over you. That’s okay. If you don’t want a groupie because all of them are girls, that’s understandable. But I mean… I’m free. I ran away from home a week ago. I have nowhere to be so… I could come with you. Warm your bed at night. Maybe do a few more other things too. Like ride you while you-”

Arthur punched him. He got too heated, too angry, amd he just… threw the punch. His knuckles ached after, and Alfred was holding onto his bleeding nose. It didn’t seem broken, but knowing the consequences of literally punching someone, Arthur began briskly walking away.

He should have expected to see the American again, before he even managed to walk down half a block. How he could cradle a bloody nose and run after him was a miracle.

“That was so rude!! I did not deserve to be fucking punched, man! I was just teasing you, dude! It’s literally not my fault that you are hiding your repressed homosexuality-”

“Stop. Calling. Me. Gay.” He growled, taking one step closer to the teen with each word uttered.

Alfred was practically pinned to a wall just then, looking up at the Brit with wide blue eyes. He was tall and handsome and…

And he kissed Alfred before he could get socked again. Instead of being pushed away and hit, as Alfred expected he would, he was pulled closer and kissed intensely enough to have all the air sucked out of his lungs.

Arthur pulled away seconds later, practically pushing himself off Alfred. Even behind his sunglasses, his eyes looked wide and shocked at what he had done. He looked around, then took Alfred’s hand and ran toward the bus.

He fucked up. He fucked up big time. But that’s okay… No one saw. And if he just kept Alfred with him on tour at all times… No one would find out that he was gay. At all.

“Is everything you need in that backpack?” He asked Alfred, out of breath from running, once they arrived at the bus.

“Yeah, why?” He asked and took off his backpack so he could take some tissues out and clean the blood off his face.

“Good. You’ll be coming with us on tour,” Arthur stated bluntly, not even bothering to listen for a yes or a no. Alfred grinned like a kid and hopped into the bus behind Arthur, already reaching out to cop a feel of his favourite singer’s ass.

Needless to say, Arthur did get himself a groupie. Involuntarily. And now every day became a series of “I almost outed myself to my millions of crazy fans.” It could be worse. At least he sleeps with a cute and annoying twink every night.

[tswiftdaily]

In the 1960s and ’70s, Pattie Boyd stood at the intersection of fashion, rock ’n’ roll, art, and fame. Widely considered one of the greatest muses of all time, Boyd, who was married first to George Harrison and later to Eric Clapton, inspired the hits “Something” by the Beatles, and “Layla” and “Wonderful Tonight” by Clapton. Recently I devoured this intriguing woman’s memoir, Wonderful Tonight. A few weeks later, I had the pleasure of sitting down with her in the kitchen of her beautiful Kensington flat. As the sunlight poured through the windows, her blue eyes lit up as she spoke. There is a playful quality about her and, surprisingly—considering how much she has experienced in her life—a lightness.

TAYLOR SWIFT: I have been so excited to talk to you because we’re both women whose lives have been deeply influenced by songs and songwriting. I stand on one side of it, and you on the other. Does the concept of being called a muse feel like a correct fit?

PATTIE BOYD: I find the concept of being a muse understandable when you think of all the great painters, poets, and photographers who usually have had one or two. The artist absorbs an element from their muse that has nothing to do with words, just the purity of their essence.

TS: What do you feel might be a factor that artists want to communicate with you through song?

PB: I think in my case both George and Eric had an inability to communicate their feelings through normal conversation. I became a reflection for them.

TS: I wondered who and what situation “Wonderful Tonight” was written about, and now I know it’s about you getting ready for a party, changing clothes, and saying, “I don’t like this, I don’t like that.”

PB: I came downstairs with trepidation thinking [Eric] was going to be so angry that I’d taken far too long, and instead he said, “Listen, I’ve just written this song.”

TS: That is so incredible to me.

PB: But you must do that too. You must be inspired by a few moments or something, the way your boyfriend turns or says something to you or a little bit of a smile or “Is he thinking this or that?,” and that would inspire you. Can you write it the moment it’s happening?

TS: There are definitely moments when it’s like this cloud of an idea comes and just lands in front of your face, and you reach up and grab it. A lot of songwriting is things you learn, structure, and cultivating that skill, and knowing how to craft a song. But there are mystical, magical moments, inexplicable moments when an idea that is fully formed just pops into your head. And that’s the purest part of my job. It can get complicated on every other level, but the songwriting is still the same uncomplicated process it was when I was 12 years old writing songs in my room.

PB: Right, right…

TS: I don’t know what it is that makes some people really creatively inspiring. There have been people I’ve spent a lot of time with who I just couldn’t write about.

PB: Yes, now what is that?

TS: I don’t know. It’s just that some people come into your life and they have this effect on you. It’s really interesting because in your case you inspired that creative output from two iconic musicians. That just blows my mind. It’s very rare!

PB: Well, the more you say it to me, the more it’s blowing my mind.

TS: You met George Harrison at 19 on the set of A Hard Day’s Night. All of a sudden your life was changed forever because you fell in love with someone who the world was obsessed with. There was no band as big as the Beatles. Did anyone prepare you for the attention?

PB: No. Nobody took on that role. Nobody thought that role would be significant for a start. I remember a journalist coming to our house one day and saying to George, “In all seriousness, when do you think the bubble is going to burst? When are the Beatles going to be finished?”

TS: Wow.

PB: If they thought that, there’s no reason anyone would think, “Ah, I’ll look after Pattie and guide her through what is going to be a tremendously difficult situation for a young girl to cope with.” The only thing Brian Epstein, their manager, told me and the other wives and girlfriends was, “Don’t talk to the press.”

TS: Were the fans the reason you decided to live in the country?

PB: Living in London with George, there were so many fans every day, it became impossible to leave the flat. Brian Epstein thought there might be an idea that John, Ringo, and George move to the country, have little houses about an hour out of London. We would decorate the outside of our house with spray-paint cans. The whole house was like a psychedelic monster.

TS: I remember seeing a picture of the house, and Mick Jagger and Marianne Faithfull had spray-painted their names on the wall with the words mick and marianne were here. I read a book about Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor recently, and how there was this crazy frenzy surrounding them. In the book, Elizabeth is quoted as saying, “It could be worse, we could be the Beatles.” You are one of the only people who can say they experienced what Beatlemania was like from the inside. How did that feel for you?

PB: In my first experience, I found it absolutely terrifying. I got to see the Beatles play at a theater in London, and George told me that I should leave with my friends before the last number. So before the last song, we got up from our seats and walked toward the nearest exit door, and there were these girls behind me. They followed us out, and they were kicking me and pulling my hair and pushing us all the way down this long passageway.

TS: What were they saying?

PB: “We hate you.”

TS: That is my worst nightmare. You probably felt like, “If you knew me and I knew you, you would not be pulling my hair in an alleyway and saying, ‘I hate you.’”

PB: Exactly.

TS: Has the dynamic changed with Beatles fans now that you put on these incredible exhibitions of your photographs?

PB: George is no longer with us, or John. It was such a long time ago, and the fans haven’t held on to the same antagonistic feelings toward me. Actually they seem happy that I’m sharing the photographs I took. One time I was having an exhibition, and these girls turned up dressed like me in A Hard Day’s Night.

TS: It’s so cute when people do that. I love that.

PB: It is adorable.

TS: That is amazing that you could go from a place of feeling incredibly frightened by the idea of this attention from people who loved the Beatles, and now there is just a huge amount of gratitude from them. For me, one of the most heartbreaking moments in the book is when, years later, you and Eric get married, and George and his new wife, Olivia, come to the wedding party, Paul comes, Ringo comes, but John couldn’t go. He said later that he would have loved to come. That night there was a huge jam session, and had he been there it would have been the last time the Beatles played together.

PB: Can you imagine? I was heartbroken.

TS: My heart was pierced by that.

PB: John felt he couldn’t come because he thought if he left America they wouldn’t let him back in, and it was important for him to be in America.

TS: I found it staggeringly beautiful in the book how you had been through many ups and downs, and told these stunning truths about your relationships, but everyone seems to be on really good terms. I mean, Eric even gave you permission to publish his love letters. What did it take for you to arrive at such a place of goodwill with people you’ve been through so much with? Is that just time passing?

PB: I think time must play a big part. Because it all broke up for whatever reason, there is no need to carry on some sort of hate or dislike for this person. And then with time I thought, “I’ll just call on Eric and see if he’ll let me use these wonderful letters that he wrote, and if he needs anything from me, he just needs to call me, same thing, and I would say ‘yes’ to him.” I think this is all based on my memories of how it was when we were first married and what fun we had, the love that we’d enjoyed together as well.

TS: It sounds like you take ownership of the past, and not just the good parts.

PB: I do. Absolutely.

TS: Lastly, what advice would you give a 28-year-old who’s deeply inspired by your outlook? I would love to look back on my life with the same clarity, wisdom, and peace that you seem to have.

PB: You have to remember that nothing remains the same. It’s always going to change. The whole world keeps changing, we keep changing, things in our lives keep changing. Nothing remains the same. If you’re happy or you’re sad, it’s not going to last forever. You just have to keep remembering that.

This article originally appears in the August 2018 issue of Harper's BAZAAR, available on newsstands July 24.

[honkycats]

The Original Cavern Club: “Cut Out The Bloody Rock and Roll!”

In January of 1957, a young entrepreneur by the name of Alan Sytner invested in leasing the cellar of a fruit warehouse located in Liverpool, England. The space was part of a subterranean tunnel system used as air-raid shelters during World War II, and was accessible solely by a steep flight of 18 stone steps. While it may not have been much aesthetically, Sytner had been wildly inspired by the jazz clubs of Paris at the time, and felt that the secretive, underground ambiance of the space made it a prime location for his own iteration of the jazz club experience.

The headline act of opening night was a jazz group known as The Merseysippi Jazz Band. Local artist Tony Booth created a promotional poster for the event, and the crowd drawn was deemed a success. Later, Tony would be picked up as the official poster artist for The Beatles. 

Known as The Cavern Club, Sytner’s project was growing wings. The space became a popular hangout for skiffle groups, the title for musicians who were influenced by a cross-section of jazz, blues and folk music, and played on a combination of professionally manufactured and homemade or re-purposed instruments.

Within just a few months of being open, The Cavern Club had built a strong reputation as being a hot spot in Liverpool for jazz and skiffle. By late summer of that same year, a manager by the name Nigel Walley approached a member of the Sytner family to ask if The Cavern Club might be interested in hosting a performance by a relatively unknown group called The Quarrymen, whose lineup included a young John Lennon.

On Wednesday, August 7 of 1957, The Quarrymen were offered a spot to play skiffle between two jazz bands, despite the group’s look and sound being increasingly more influenced by rock and roll music. At this time, the rock and roll genre was still in it’s infancy and had very few trailblazing idols to point toward in support of it. As such, the genre was strictly misunderstood and unwelcome at The Cavern Club.

Before the performance, the members of The Quarrymen argued amongst themselves about their set list. Some wanted to perform rock and roll, while others were too hesitant about breaking the “skiffle only” rule that had been placed upon their set specifications. After opening with a skiffle song, John Lennon called for the band to perform an unapproved cover of Elvis Presley’s “Don’t Be Cruel”. Member Rod Davis warned Lennon that the crowd would “eat you alive”. So Lennon began playing the song on his own, and halfway through, Sytner pushed his way through the audience to hand him a note which read, “cut out the bloody rock ‘n roll!”.

Despite this, The Quarrymen were booked multiple times at The Cavern Club after their first performance. In January of 1958, new member Paul McCartney performed with them, and in February, George Harrison.

Sytner sold the club to Ray McFall in 1959, and McFall was more adaptive to the musical tenor of the times. Beat groups (influenced by elements of pop, rock and roll, R&B and skiffle - the backbone of the British Invasion’s sound) became popular, and “Beat Night” made it’s debut in May of 1960. The first Beat Night featured a performance by a group called Rory Storm and The Hurricanes, which had a young Ringo Starr on drums (who would soon after be snatched out of The Hurricanes to join The Beatles).

The club hosted its first performance by The Beatles in February of 1961, and would host them another 291 times between then and August of ‘63. It was during a performance at The Cavern Club that Brian Epstein first saw The Beatles and made moves to take them under his management.  

In late 1963, Beatlemania was spreading like wildfire, and the masses of girls desperate to see them could not be contained by the small Cavern Club. After August of 1963, The Beatles would never fit into the club again.

The Beatles put Liverpool on the map for rock and roll music, and The Cavern Club earned a new status as a hub for all things hot, hip, and most importantly, loud.

In the decade that followed, a staggering number of bands that would soon become known as rock royalty made debuts and memorable appearances at The Cavern Club, including The Rolling Stones, The Yardbirds, The Hollies, The Kinks, Elton John, Black Sabbath, Queen, The Who and John Lee Hooker.

In her hit 1965 record, “I Know A Place”, Petula Cark references the club lovingly as “a cellar full of noise”, as by this time in history, the Cavern Cub had become a haven for young rock and rollers ready to break sound barriers.

in early 1966, mounting debt forced the Cavern Club to close it’s doors. Police were brought in, as over a hundred fans barricaded themselves inside the club in an effort to protest the closure and protect their sanctuary. Unfortunately, it did nothing to help Ray McFall’s bankruptcy, but the club was reopened under new management soon after.

Over the course of multiple changes in management and structure, The Cavern Club in it’s most recent form still exists today, and is considered one of the world’s most visited and cherished sites of rock and roll history. Beatles memorabilia can be found everywhere inside the club now, in a tribute to the soon-to-be-legendary young hopefuls taking a risk and beginning a rock and roll revolution. 

[teddyshoney]

Sooo... This week's @gleeful-paintbox-project prompt was Beatlemania. And there are just so many Beatles songs that had an impact on Kurt's life that I couldn't choose just one. So, I wrote three ficlets this week, I Want to Hold Your Hand being the last of them. You can find the post about Blackbird HERE and the post about Silly Love Songs HERE. I stuck with the first two seasons as I wasn't ready to move on and explore Kurt and Blaine's engagement yet. Something tells me there will be time for that yet.

Thank you to my wonderful friend, @jayhawk-writes, for beta-reading these for me! I really appreciate it!

You can read the ficlet below the cut or on AO3 or FF.net

He’d been thinking about what he needed all day, and now that he finally had Mr. Schue’s permission to express the turmoil of emotions and pains swirling through him, he needed to get his story out before his tears started leaking from his eyes. Again. He took a deep breath.

“On the day of my mom’s funeral, when they were lowering her body into the ground, I was crying.” He found a spot on the floor and stared at it, not wanting to make any eye contact with anyone in the room, not wanting to see the pity or sadness or sympathy—whatever they were feeling—written on their faces. He knew they couldn’t help it, but he hated it. “I mean, that was it. It was the last time I was ever going to see her. I remember I looked up at my dad, and I…”

The memories began to play in his head. He could feel the gentle wind on his face, the bright beams of the sun against his cheeks and hair. He could feel the tears stinging his eyes, the snot running down his face as he looked up from the ground toward his dad. Somewhere, there had been birds chirping, and he’d wanted them to stop sounding so happy, yet he hadn’t said anything. He’d just waited. His breath came out shakily. “I just wanted him to say something, just something to make me feel like my whole world wasn’t over. And he just took my hand and squeezed it.”

He could feel it, the warmth of his dad’s hand in his own, squeezing tightly, reassuringly, saying silently that he was still there, that he wasn’t going anywhere. Not yet. “I just… Knowing that those hands were there to take care of me… That was enough. This is for my dad.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you something

I think you’ll understand”

Slowly, Kurt lifted his eyes from the spot they’d been studying on the floor to a place on the wall behind the rest of the Glee club as the memories began again like movies.

“When I say that something

I wanna hold your hand

I wanna hold your hand

I wanna hold your hand”

A million pictures of him holding his dad’s hand flashed through his head. Grocery store trips. On the way to the playground. On my first day of school after Mom died. At the fair so I wouldn’t get lost. Then a more complex memory began to play in his head.

“Oh, please, say to me

You'll let me be your man

And please, say to me

You'll let me hold your hand

Now let me hold your hand

I wanna hold your hand”

I was so scared to ride a bike without training wheels. Dad held my hand all the way out to the garage because he knew that if he’d didn’t, I’d bolt back inside and hide under his and Mom’s bed. I watched him take off those training wheels, never letting go of the shoulder of his shirt. God, I probably stretched out the material so badly, but I didn’t care. I was terrified. And then he opened the garage door and wheeled it outside while I held onto his belt loop. I tried to convince him that I didn’t need to learn to ride a bike, yet he insisted that I would have fun. “I know you can do it, kid,” he said. So, I made him promise to hold onto me, and then I got on. He held on for a while, and eventually, he let go. I didn’t even know until he clapped. And then I freaked out and fell over, and I was sure he was going to be so disappointed in me. I hadn’t learned to ride a bike, even though he’d told me he knew I could do it. I expected him to look disappointed, and instead, when he came over, he just held out his hand to help me up. “That was great! Let’s do it again. I’m sure you’ll do even better now.”

Another detailed memory popped into his head.

“And when I touch you I feel happy, inside

It's such a feeling

That my love

I can't hide

I can't hide

I can't hide”

We had an outdoor tea party for my birthday that year after Mom died. I didn’t want to have any friends over because I was afraid that it might remind me too much of Mom. She always did throw such elaborate birthday parties for me, just like I loved. I convinced Dad that I should just make some tiny cakes and we could have tea, and he agreed right away. We spent all day the day before in the kitchen, making cakes and cookies and decorating them. And then, that morning, he made the tea on the stove, like Mom always had, right after breakfast. I taught him how to drink tea the right way: pinky out. He didn’t get it at first. I explained that tea is dainty, though, and sticking his pinky out made him daintier. I don’t think he understood it really, yet he went along with it anyway, even putting on his best British accent, which wasn’t very good. I loved it, though. It reminded me of Mom and watching British TV shows together, and he knew I needed that.

And then, perhaps the most difficult memory of all popped up as Kurt gathered himself to finish the song.

“Yeah, you got that something

I wanna hold your hand

I wanna hold your hand

I wanna hold your ha-a-a-a-a-a-and”

I didn’t want to visit Mom’s grave that first year after her death. It was too hard, and I spent all morning before we went crying. Then, I asked Dad if we could dress up like we had for her funeral, and he agreed that Mom would like that. The entire time we were walking from the car to her grave, I was trailing behind him. I was looking at all those other stones, imagining how other people must feel coming there to visit, and I thought I was going to cry. Dad just turned around and offered me his hand, and we went together, both of us holding back tears until we found her stone. It was probably one of the hardest days we had together after she died. I think it was the most healing cry at her grave either of us ever had. We both felt like she was there, hugging us.

Mom, if you’re out there somewhere, can you bring Dad back to me? I need him still, more than most people could ever understand, and I’m not ready to lose him, too. Can you please make sure he comes back to me?

There were tears streaming down his face that he quickly wiped away as the song ended, and he blinked a few times, bringing himself back from his memories to the Glee classroom. He caught a glimpse of his fellow Glee members out of the corner of his eye, their faces tear-stained and their eyes filled with something that he felt resembled pity, and he realized he didn’t want to be there anymore. He knew his friends would want to hug him, tell him how sorry they were that he was going through something so hard. He wasn’t sure he could handle that, though. So, he turned and walked out the door, and no one said a word to him as he went.

I don’t want to be here. I need to be with Dad. I need to hold his hand again.

[fancoloredglasses]

Yellow Submarine (AKA How to make a Beatles movie without the Beatles)

(Thanks to Amazon)

I didn’t live through Beatlemania. I never saw A Hard Day’s Night or Help!. I tried to watch Magical Mystery Tour in my 20s, but I didn’t get past the first 20 minutes before wondering what the hell I was watching. However, when I was 8 I saw Yellow Submarine for the first time on the local independent TV station (that would later be a dubba-dubba-Dubbaya Bee station before WB merged with UPN to become CW...but I digress) and thoroughly enjoyed it. I made it a point to watch it every time it cycled through the rotation of films the station had the rights to air.

Then I saw it again about 10 years ago...and wondered what the appeal was.  I’m guessing you have to be a kid or high as a kite (it was the 60s, after all...) to truly appreciate it.

Let’s start with the fact that, despite the fact that the Beatles are listed as starring in the film, they don’t appear until the last 5 minutes of the film. I know what you’re thinking: “It’s an animated film, so of course they’re not in the film, but at least their voices were, right?” Wrong. Voice actors that might have sounded like them if you heard it through a cloud of marijuana smoke. And then there are the animated “Beatles” themselves...

(Thanks to Pitchfork)

They...vaguely look like the Beatles...maybe?

This is also the first of two films that feature Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. The other being...

(Thanks to Rotten Tomatoes...who rated it 12%)

That one didn’t star the Beatles either...and was even worse (I think I lasted less time watching this than I did Magical Mystery Tour)

Anyway, on to the film. It you want to see it (and are young/high enough to appreciate it), you can see it on M4UFree.

We open on the undersea (80,000 leagues under, to be precise) utopia Pepperland, full of all the happy imagery “Mary Jane” can provide. Unfortunately, their neighbors, the Blue Meanies...

(Thanks to The Mirror)

No, not that guy (though he is modeled after them)

(Thanks to Wikipedia)

These guys! Lead by...you know, I don’t think his name is ever given, but he’s the guy with the rabbit ears petting the flying glove (who is named Glove. Did I mention the writers were likely high as balls?). I’ll just call him the Blue Boss, who has the worst case of bipolar disorder I’ve ever seen. He goes from sweet (in an evil kind of way; Think a murderous Shirley Temple) to psychotically homicidal.

Anyway, the Blue Boss and his Head Lackey and Chief Punching Bag Max (who has a giant M on his chest so you can’t miss him) are in readiness to attack (at least I think they are. The Boss beats the shit out of Max for saying “yes”, so he keeps saying “no” whenever asked if the various troops are ready)

The Blue Meanies fire their “Anti-Music Missile” (really just a soundproof bubble) at Pepperland, engulfing the land’s greatest musicians, Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, and causing panic as the Meanies begin their invasion, taking the joy (and color) from every being and object in Pepperland.

The naval captain Old Fred tries to warn the mayor (who is so ancient he calls the captain “Young Fred”), but the mayor doesn’t believe him until his string quartet is decimated (quadimated?) by the Meanies. The mayor then ushers Fred to the Yellow Submarine to get help before he too succumbs to a grey existence.

We then follow the yellow submarine on its journey as the opening credits roll (three guesses what Beatles song plays during this), followed by the submarine somehow flying through Liverpool to the tune of Eleanor Rigby until the scene shifts to Ringo.

Ringo is moping about his sad, uneventful life (wait, isn’t he a Beatle? His life has been a whirlwind since 1962!) as the submarine stealthily(?!) follows him. Ringo finally retreats to the Pier (we know this because that’s what the sign on the building says) where Fred parks the sub and emerges, screaming for help and babbling something about Blue Meanies. Ringo opens the door, but isn’t there when Fred enters.

We see a very wide corridor with endless rows of doors (The Pier wasn’t this big on the outside.  You think it’s a TARDIS?). We are treated to “Tripping Scooby Doo” levels of ridiculousness going on between the doors whenever Fred’s back is turned. Maybe he should recruit the army traveling between the doors instead of Ringo...

We then see Ringo descend a flight of stairs in a walking car (What? You thought a flying submarine would be the weirdest vehicle in the movie?) and agree to help Fred. Now for John, Paul, and George.

Ringo leads Fred to Frankenstein’s monster, who morphs into John. (I always wondered about him...) Fred once again babbles about Blue Meanies and off they go to find Paul and George.

Apparently George is in the Zen Room, so they enter and zen Fred babbles again. Now to find Paul.

Fortunately, Paul finds them. Even better, he heard Fred’s babble as well. They all pile in the sub and off they go! (to the tune of All Together Now)

Suddenly, the hands on the clocks slow down and move backward. Sure enough, the group get younger at an alarming rate until John gets the bright idea to spin the clock hands forward. Suddenly, they see another yellow submarine with another set of Beatles. John postulates that they passed themselves going backward. Then they get old in a hurry. (to the tune of When I’m Sixty-Four) Eventually time gets righted somehow. (They really don’t explain things in this movie very well at all)

The submarine travels through the Sea of Monsters. Ringo pushes the eject button (right after Fred said not to push it, naturally), so they send the 7th Cavalry to get him back (wait, the submarine has a cavalry? Why the hell does Fred need the Beatles?!)

Eventually a vacuum beast shows up and sucks up everything in sight (including the sub, the scenery, and itself!). The sub mysteriously reappears in a Sea of... Nowhere (three guesses what song’s coming up...) and stalls out.

Looking outside, they find a being that looks like a brown version of a Blue Meanie...

(Thanks to Wikipedia)

...who introduces himself as Jeremy Hillary Boob, PhD and general all-around know-it-all. The group breaks into (you guessed it) Nowhere Man, which makes Jeremy realize how lonely he is, so Ringo befriends him. Jeremy joins the group and fixes the sub, so they’re off again...until it stalls again. Jeremy figures it must be the propeller, so fixes that while the Beatles look on. Unfortunately, Jeremy does such a good job that the sub starts up with only Fred on board, then takes off of its own volition, ditching Jeremy and the Beatles. John breaks into Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds (appropriate, as everyone was obviously on LSD while making this)

The group decide to walk the rest of the way to Pepperland (aren’t they supposed to be underwater? Can anyone explain how any of this works?) and come to the Sea of Holes. (a field of, you guessed it, holes) Ringo picks one up and puts it in his pocket. Let’s hope he doesn’t have any loose change, because...you know...he now has a hole in his pocket. (their joke, not mine. Put down the pitchforks) Meanwhile, a Blue Meanie shows up for some reason and kidnaps Jeremy behind everyone’s back. While looking for Jeremy, Ringo steps on a green hole, which for some reason takes them to the Sea of Green. (and if you recall the title song, the Sea of Green is important) Suddenly, they’re in the remains of Pepperland.

OK, so the Beatles joined Fred around the twenty minute mark. It’s now about fifty-five minutes into the film. So it took everyone thirty-five minutes to return from a trip that Fred took by himself in the length of time it took to sing Yellow Submarine. Not the most efficient crew...

The lads discover the mayor petrified and covered with bonking apples. (Don’t ask. There are at least 20 different varieties of Meanies besides the Blue Boss, Max, and Glove. I don’t have the energy (or trippiness) to describe them all) They uncover him as Fred to arrive in the sub. At Fred’s suggestion they begin singing, which revives him.

The mayor is astonished that the Beatles look a lot like Sgt. Peppers Lonely Heart’s Club Band. (well, obviously! Has the mayor not been to a record store in the past few years?) The mayor comes up with a plan for the lads to impersonate the group and inspire the citizens to rise up against the Meanies. One problem, the Meanies have confiscated every instrument in Pepperland (not destroyed? Let me guess...)

BOSS: Max, have you destroyed every instrument in Pepperland?

MAX: No.

BOSS: Excellent! *prances off to trample a flower*

MAX: But I actually meant...*sigh*

Meanwhile, the Blue Meanies are still terrorizing the citizens with despicable acts, such as eating flowers and a little girl’s pinwheel.

The lads infiltrate the Meanies’ camp using cardboard cutouts. Thank goodness no one was standing in the background or they’d be in trouble. They sneak their way to the grandstand housing the confiscated instruments (because no one would think to look for instruments in a place you would normally store instruments) and conveniently find spare uniforms for the Lonely Hearts Club Band. (including hats with attached facial hair. Was someone planning Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Tribute Band?) They prepare to sneak out, only to discover the grandstand surrounded by the very same sleeping Meanies they just snuck past to get there.

The lads fumble around into several instruments loudly enough to wake the dead, but thankfully not the Meanies, despite a bagpipe bouncing its way down the hill past them, wailing all the way.

The lads wait until morning before trying to sneak past the sleeping Meanies (good plan. Less chance to be spotted in your colorful outfits when it’s light out and they’re ready to wake up than under cover of darkness when they’re still fast asleep...) but Ringo (who else?) steps on the aforementioned bagpipe, letting out a pathetic wail that FINALLY wakes everyone up! The lads manage to escape after being chased into a grove of trees, prompting another Scooby Doo door (well, behind trees) sequence.

Then the lads wake the citizens and cower the Meanies by singing. (three guesses...I mean, who are they dressed as? If you need a hint, it’s a MUCH better version of this song...)

(Thanks to Shout! Factory)

This pisses off the Blue Boss to no end, which of course he takes out on Max. The Blue Boss calls on Glove to (and I quote) “oBLUEterate” these troublesome musicians before getting back to torturing Jeremy. (remember him?)

Then, for no explainable reason, John develops the ability to make his words solid (as in, he says “who?” and the word WHO? comes out of his mouth and hangs there. John then confounds and defeats Glove by weaponizing the lyrics of All You Need Is Love (I’m not entirely certain if the writers saw the irony in that). This demoralizes the Meanies and causes them to retreat.

The lads then discover the globe imprisoning the real Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. (who don’t seem that concerned and are instead still playing merrily, if unheard, within the walls of the globe) Despite the lads’ best efforts, they cannot break the globe until Ringo remembers the hole in his pocket (a long wait for a lame payoff) and attaches it to the globe, destroying it and freeing the Band. The Beatles meet the Band and have an existential conversation with themselves.

The Beatles and the Band officially join the battle (more like run away in style) until they encounter an organ. (it’s Pepperland. Music is their very existence) The Meanies’ four-headed dog (because three heads apparently aren’t enough) is defeated by the organ playing (what else?) Hey Bulldog.

As the battle ends, Ringo wanders into the Meanies’ camp, finds Jeremy, and frees him. Jeremy confronts the Blue Boss (who has seen his entire army bugger off back to wherever the Blue Meanies are from. The Blue Boss then threatens to eat Jeremy. Jeremy responds by using the power of kronik magic to turn the Blue Boss into a walking blue rose bush.

John offers a truce, allowing the Meanies to become citizens of Pepperland (kinda like what happened when the Meanies invaded, but without as much shooting and bonking...oh, and more equality). The Blue Boss asks for Max’s opinion, but has a final psychotic rage when Max answers “no”. Max then answers “yes”, completing the Blue Boss’s emotional transformation from evil to good.

We then fade to the actual Beatles, who discover Even Bluer Meanies approaching the theater, so they start singing All Together Now again to drive them off.

I would like someone to get high as balls, watch this film, and tell me if it makes more sense...