#wedding bells are breaking up the old gang of mine

[tavolgisvist]

And there were a few massage stories that I used to tell in concert, because I’ve had some pretty wild massages, and when I say ‘wild’ I mean funny wild, not sexual. There was one in Japan where the girl came in and said, ‘Please lie on floor,’ so I lay on the floor, and she was giving me a massage. I started relaxing, but then suddenly she started to sing, ‘Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.’ I’m going, ‘Oh shit, where do I put myself now. Can’t I escape this anywhere?’ Thank God she didn’t know the middle eight.

(Paul McCartney about Girls’ School, The Lyrics, 2021)

John: Thank you for playing Paul's tune to me, it's very nice of you, wonderful, thank you. I always get it. I sat in a restaurant in Spain and the violinist insisted on playing Yesterday right in my ear. Then he ask me to sign the violin and I was… I didn't know what to say. I say, well actually, I say okay and signed it and Yoko signed it… One day he's going to find out that Paul wrote it. Dick Cavett: That's better then if he'd played Wedding Bells Are Breaking Up The Old Gang Of Mine…

(Dick Cavett Show Interviews 11 Sep 1971)

George (and Ringo) June 9th, 1970, during All Things Must Pass sessions:

‘Wedding Bells’ is what it was. ‘Wedding bells are breaking up that old gang of mine.’ We used to sing that song, Gene Vincent did it. It was like an army song and for us the Beatles became the army. We always knew that one day ‘Wedding Bells’ would come true, and that was when it did.

(Paul McCartney, Oct 1986, interview with Chris Salewicz for Q Magazine)

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

Every time I hear “So Long London” I think “this literally happened to Paul McCartney”

AND YOU SAY I ABANDONED THE SHIP BUT IIIIIII WAS GOING DOWN WITH IT! MY WHIIIIITE KNUCKLE DYING GRIP HOLDING TIGHT TO YOUR QUIET RESENTMENT!!! AND MY FRIENDS SAID IT ISN'T RIGHT TO BE SCARED EVERY DAY OF A LOVE AFFAIR. EEEEEVERY BREATH FEELS LIKE RAREST AIR WHEN YOU'RE NOT SURE IF HE WANTS TO BE THERE.

[paulscunt]

[estrangedfiances]

congratulations george harrison for being the funniest person ever

[camphorror]

Eeeef🤒🤒

[ghostie111]

Wedding Bells (Are Breaking Up That Old Gang Of Mine)

When he made a come back on Dandelion in 1969. The result was truly awful a sort of country singer.

[a-a-a-anon]

not a lot of people care about the prophecy anymore but here are my headcanons for a chardee macdennis double wedding:

they had to get married in a joint wedding, obviously. neither party would agree to getting married after the other. the topic was brought up and it led to hours of fighting and the threat of arbitration. each party presented their case to frank so he would be a deal breaker and pick who would get married first, but frank refused to get into that mess. they eventually agreed to do a simultaneous wedding

they frantically plan the wedding in one night, treating it like another scheme. during the course of that night they realize they don't really know a lot of people to invite. in the end dennis is appointed as dee's bridesman and dee as dennis' groomsmaid. mac's appointed as charlie's groomsman and charlie as his. they’re really pretending to treat it like a civilized affair. it's franks job to finance and to walk dennis and dee down the aisle (he's really involving himself for mac and charlie's sake. mac because he's proud of him because of MFHP and charlie because he's been his best friend for the last 20 years. he still thinks the twins are bastard crackheads)

they have 4 separate bachelor/bachelorette parties which are like mini versions of dee/charlie/mac/dennis days. frank complains he should be getting a party too and the gang yells at him that only people getting married get bachelor/bachelorette parties.

on the wedding day, the twins get ready together and charmac get ready together:

the twins are snide - "jesus christ sweet dee u should've gotten something with sleeves. that dress does nothing for ur fat bird arms" "well that blazer makes u look like a duck. it's too small" (she's right, the lapel bulges. for a moment dennis stops applying mascara:) "wha- i- why would you say something like that to a man on his wedding day..." or something like that. they're also weirdly competitive and are trying to have a Better wedding than the other, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve in a joint wedding

charlie and mac are in the other room, incredibly anxious and sweaty and trying to keep each other from freaking out. they're trying to huff glue without getting any on their tuxes. dee made mac promise he won't let charlie eat so much cheese before the wedding because it makes his breath repugnant. mac ignores this and actually decides to try stress eating cheese too in an attempt to quell his pre wedding anxiety. they also helped each other dress in their tuxes (they’re used to getting someone from a non-'white trash' background to help them dress for fancy events)

dee's vows include a bunch of bad dirty jokes, tailor written for the occasion. they are groan inducing

before the wedding, charlie was afraid his vows wouldn't come out good (because sometimes words get blocked up in his mouth and he don't say it no good). he felt pressured to write something and writing words in itself is scary to him. in the end, he does a short simple sweet song for his vows. he got artemis (artemis is there, obviously) to pull out a keyboard when he cued her.

a good chunk of his vows dennis devotes to himself

mac pulls out a goddamn STACK of cue cards when it's his turn to say his vows. the gang expects a repeat of the Gang Texts situation where mac has way too much to say. instead it plays out like this post

during the wedding frank does a speech for all of them and it's just like his awkward speech on the boat in thunder gun express. he somehow brings up the topics of the waitress and mandy and banging etc and the gang is like COME ON FRANK

afterwards they play chardee macdennis and all the fantastic points in this post takes place

none of them spend their ‘first night as a married couple’ uh consummating their marriage or anything. no, they get hospitalized because chardee macdennis always ends in disaster

and a bonus crack idea: artemis gets called in as frank’s emergency contact and the gang is like oh? we didn’t know she was your emergency contact. frank replies that of course she is, the wife is always the emergency contact. he nonchalantly explains he got married that morning before all of them. the gang is greatly angered because they had a whole discussion on who should get married first and they had agreed to do a Thing! but they’re stuck in their crutches/beds/neck braces/etc and are incapable of unleashing their fury on frank without immense pain (not that this stops them from attempting to do so)

and afterwards frank promises them ice cream or something

[no-reply95]

John and Yoko (Jan 1969):

“Yay, now both our divorces have come through, we’re both free!!!!”

John and Yoko (Feb - Mar 11 1969)

…

John and Yoko (12 Mar 1969)

Paul and Linda: *Get married*

John: “We need to get married NOW!!!”

Yoko: “Any particular reason, now?”

John and Yoko (12 - 20 Mar 1969)

[cecyvelky]

[eppysboys]

"Once I found the woman, the boys became of no interest whatsoever, other than they were like old friends. You know: 'Hi, how are you? How's your wife?' That kind of thing. You know the [Gene Vincent] song: 'Those wedding bells are breaking up that old gang of mine.' Well, it didn't hit me till whatever age I was when I met Yoko ... that was it. The old gang of mine was over the moment I met her" -  John Lennon, Interview with Rolling Stone, 1980

“‘Wedding Bells’ is what it was. ‘Wedding bells are breaking up that old gang of mine.’ We used to sing that song, Gene Vincent did it. It was like an army song and for us the Beatles became the army. We always knew that one day ‘Wedding Bells’ would come true, and that was when it did.” - Paul McCartney, Interview with Chris Salewicz, 1986

[oskarlevant]

The Four Pitchickers - “Wedding Bells (Are Breaking Up that Old Gang of Mine)”

Performed live at the Veterans Memorial Auditorium in Columbus, Ohio during the Barbershop Harmony Society's International Convention of 1958.

[kreekey]

Wedding Bells Are Breaking Up That Old Gang of Mine

Chapter 1/1

Pairing: Linda McCartney/Paul McCartney, John Lennon/Yoko Ono,  John Lennon & Paul McCartney

Genre: Fluff

Words:  2391

Summary: That title may sound a bit melancholic given the real context, but all things must come to an end. It’s funny to see the person you’ve known your whole life only begin to settle into themself. There’s a moment of fondness leading up to the split. 

Is ‘fondness’ the right word? 

It’s pretty amicable, anyway. 

Two different kinds of couples have a night together. It’s like a dinner party, except the (Ono) Lennons aren’t really sure how to throw a dinner party. Conversation is had. John entertains the idea of a soon-to-be Beatle breakup. Paul refuses to get his head drilled into. Everyone has found somebody to love.

(See the AO3 Post for author’s notes)

John’s apartment - I guess it’s Yoko’s now, too - was already littered. It was no different from the closets we used to live out of in Hamburg, except this one must’ve cost a few thousand pounds. They had just moved in and half the floorboards were hidden underneath newspaper clippings, clothing, and dirty plates. At least they had the courtesy to move some of the piles against the wall before we came over.

Not that it eased Linda at all. We sat with our knees bumping against each other and hand over hand. I whispered sweet jokes to her in the living room as we waited - I don’t know why I whispered. It was only John’s flat. His home. It didn’t feel like a home, of course. It felt a bit like an alley you might find yourself in after a night of drinking. Funny, considering I used to live in this same building a couple of years ago. Things have changed since then.

Yoko’s bare feet padded in from the kitchen. She smiled in a way that rivalled Mona Lisa, saying, “The food is ready.”

I took Linda’s hand as we stood and followed Yoko down the short hall. She walked with care, making every step deliberate. It all felt very formal for a visit to an old friend’s house.

We stepped into the dining room and found John sat cross-legged on one of the dining chairs. There was a smile underneath all that hair he’s grown out. Two sturdy seats sat across from each other at an intimate wooden table. He beckoned us with the signature Lennon confidence, saying, “Come, sit.” Yoko took his hand and he guided her into the seat beside him. They reminded me of one of those old couples who’ve known each other for decades.

As we settled into our seats, Linda and I gave each other a glance after noticing the food. It could barely be considered dinner. An opened bottle of champagne stood proudly in the centre, surrounded by plates of crackers and half-hazardous dollops of caviar. There was a bowl of a thousand different kinds of foreign cooked vegetables dressed with pepper. At least now I could be sure there was food in John’s house. He seemed so fragile and thin nowadays. Of course, he’s the same fiery Lennon he’s always been. I think.

John reached out for a cracker and he leaned on the table, saying, “Me and Yoko have got ourselves on this macrobiotic diet. I hope you like it, it’s good for you. Gets rid of toxins and all that.” He stuffed his mouth with a biscuit.

“‘‘Macrobiotic’?” I laughed. “I still remember you sneaking Eric’s chocolate at the studio.”

He smiled, “That’s the old me, Paul.”

“We were at the studio this time last year,” I reminded him. That nice familiarity that always came to me whenever I visited John began to creep up. “Eric was yelling at George because his truffle was gone, but you fessed - eventually - that it was you all along.”

“Sometimes John will still slip and eat a chocolate bar,” Yoko said airily with that same enigmatic smile, hands folded in her lap. “But the point is that it’s very healthy. We eat grains and vegetables, you know, that kind of thing. It’s very, very good. That’s why we do it.”

John hummed chirpily, teasing us with his raised eyebrows. Linda put on a weak polite smile for them before staring at the plates. She rarely knew what to say to Yoko. I mean, we know she’s mostly harmless. She’s just from another world. I grabbed Linda’s glass and poured the champagne, nudging her for reassurance. She scooted her chair closer to mine until our knees started bumping again.

We ate sparingly and drank freely. John and I made conversation about nothing memorable, catching up on our intertwined lives. Linda would chime in with something smart before returning to listening. Trying to keep up with a conversation with John makes anyone a bit disquiet. Yoko would often watch, occasionally regaling us with an explanation for something we didn’t know we wondered. Her ideas always had John turning in admiration or ferocious agreement. As the drinks kept flowing, I even began to seriously consider some of their proposals.

“Wait, d’you remember the letter I sent from Amsterdam, Paul? You fancy getting the trepanning thing done?” John brought up after a mention of their peace demonstrations.

Linda and I gave each other a look. John’s letters during his honeymoon were often illegible. Even when you could make the words out, he never made sense.

“You kind of have a hole bored into your skull and it relieves the pressure,” John explained in an instant upon seeing our expressions. He seemed eager, almost bouncing in his chair. My wife gaped at me, eyes widened. I shrugged. It was kind of amusing.

Linda spoke straight to Yoko the first time this night and gawked, “Hold on, do you believe this?”

“We’re always looking for new ways to expand our consciousness,” Yoko replied without the slightest inflection in her voice. I swear I could tell her smile opening up the slightest bit. She giggled softly, “But John is more focused on this method than I am.”

It’s almost startling to hear her laugh. Yoko turned into a sliver less of a mystery. Linda and I made eyes at each other, lips curling upwards. Before we knew it, we were dissolving into laughter. I almost forgot about the people across the table. Linda looked lovely, just like herself, a blush colouring her face as she cracked up without a care. Yoko tittered along shyly, gazing at her husband.

John continued with a wide grin. He gripped the table and leaned in closer. “No, this isn’t a joke! All you’d have to do is just bore a little hole in your skull and it lets the pressure off. We met a doctor in Amsterdam, and he has a paper on it. A scientific paper, a real one. You could get a permanent high from this!”

Linda leaned over and laid her head on my shoulder with a content sigh. It could’ve been a tired one. Wrapping my arm around her and pulling her closer, I replied, “C’mon, Johnny. You must be joking.”

“No, no! Listen, let’s go next week. We know a guy who can do it, and maybe we can all do it together!” John gestured with his hands like he was bursting with genius ideas. I half-expected him to shout ‘Eureka!’.

“Look, you go and have it done, and if it works, great,” I grinned. “Tell us about it and we’ll all have it.” Linda hummed in agreement.

John threw his hands up, saying, “Oh, fine, fine. You’re too cynical about things like this - ”

“Thank God,” I interrupted. Linda almost guffawed.

He gestured to me with another cracker, “You’re no fun anymore, Paulie.”

My wife relaxed against my body, radiating warmth, and looked back across the table. It felt sweet coupled with my drunk buzz. She said, “I just think that there’s so much crap that you’ve got to be careful of.”

“But John’s more open to things like that,” I winked at him, wanting my cheeky smile to push his buttons. His eyes narrowed at mine, though the rest of his face stayed nonchalant. The room turned silent and I realized all eyes were on John, waiting for his usual witty response. Yoko looked at him, unfocused, not a hint of a frown on her face. John bounced his leg in thought.

“Well, whether you believe it or not…” John finally said, a degree colder than usual. “Either way, I don’t resent ye for it - I don’t resent your husband, Linda,” he turned to her. “I feel sorry for him.”

Linda didn’t let her surprise show. John Lennon could catch most people off guard in a snap - not me. She began to sputter before I cut in heartily, “That’s very kind of you, Lennon!”

John chuckled, “No, really, McCartney. If you say no, you mean no. It’s very kind of you not to call me fuckin’ crazy.”

“It’s just not something I would like to do, Johnny. But you let me know how it is,” I said, squeezing Linda closer out of habit. John nodded, turning his eyes elsewhere as if it’s all exasperated him.

“I think John wanted to put some pressure off. For both of us, you know,” Yoko said. Her voice was smooth and delicate, almost jarring compared to the madness a few moments prior. “We are the only people going through the same problems.”

I wondered, ‘What do you say to that’?

But John seemed to know. John understood her, something most people couldn’t do. I’ve been aware of her for three years now. I never really got on that well with her.

“We’re in the same position. Our fame, y'know, the people we know. And The Beatles… for now, I mean. Until you release that album of yours, Paul.” John turned his eyes back on mine.

“Well, the recordings’ going well,” Linda said with a sense of nerves.

“What do you do in the album? It’s refreshing to see another woman working on the album of a Beatle. And you know, when Beatles are recording, there’s very few people around, especially no women,” Yoko said. John gave me an empty look before returning to face his wife. Memories of asking Yoko to go sit in the back of the studio - an act I used to try to hide from John like a dirty affair - flooded our minds. I ignored that thought.

“Strictly speaking she harmonizes,” I answered. As I stared down at her I found myself admiring every feature - as always.

I continued, “But of course it’s more than that. She’s a shoulder to lean on, a second opinion… and a photographer of renown.” She glowed when I kissed the top of her head. I looked back up at the Ono-Lennons, beaming with pride.

“Cor, replaced me already?” John jested. I made an affirming sound, taking another sip of champagne with my free hand.

“Yer killing us, y’know. The band. I don’t understand. I’m not ashamed of The Beatles,” John shook his head. “I did start it all!”

“Well, I’m doing what you and Yoko were doing last year. I understand what you did, now.” I said. It’s stupid to defend it. I shouldn’t have to, it’s only an album.

“Will Paul and Linda become a John and Yoko?” John used that mock-deep voice, the kind he uses when he jeers at the media.

“No. They will become Paul and Linda.” My wife melted in my touch as I wrapped my other arm around her. She looked up at me with a smile.

“Hmm,” John half-lidded his eyes. “Good luck to yer.”

We went on with the evening, skipping over any unmentionables. Linda and I would try to, anyway. John and Yoko didn’t mind. It went well, I imagine. I love them - I know that I love John. I respect him, at least. And John loves her, and there’s nothing to be done for it.

They waved us goodbye at some point early in the morning. As we walked onto the street, Yoko stood with John in the flat’s doorframe, hand on his chest. His arm snaked around her waist. They were so small, so compact. Like they made their own bubble. Impenetrable. There was ‘John and Yoko’ and there was the rest of the world. All that ‘interconnectedness of the whole human race’ (or whatever’s said these days) was hard to sense sometimes. Really, though, they must be in love. I can’t say there’s anything wrong with that.

I gripped Linda’s hand, leading us away. Our steps were uneven, unsure, but we leaned on each other throughout the cold walk back to Cavendish.

“'Trepanning’ - was he really sitting there saying we should do this?” Linda muttered in disbelief. When she looked up at me, there was a smile on her face. She was glad to say what she wanted, especially with me.

I laughed, “Well, John always wanted to jump over the ‘cliff’ - “

“The 'cliff’?” she questioned. It wasn’t in the way some girls used to question me, twirling their hair as if they still didn’t know anything, only to flirt. Linda wasn’t coy. Linda knew who she was, and she knew me.

“Y’know, the cliff,” I said, confident that the explanation will be a tad silly. “The cliff - going full tilt. He once said that to me. 'Have you ever thought of jumping?’ I said, 'Fuck off. You jump, and tell me how it is.'”

Her shoulders shook from laughter, still gazing up at me.

“That’s basically the difference between us.” I motion with my head. “I love John, and respect what he does - though he doesn’t really give me any pleasure. Not with his, y’know, kooky ideas. I get tired from it all.”

“‘Tired’? Oh, Paul.” She squeezed my hand.

“Sorry. I don’t like it either, getting tired.” I sighed. “It makes it all harder.”

“It’s allowed, you know,” she said, sinking into me. “Allow yourself to be tired.”

A smile warmed up onto my face. I nodded gently because she was right.

Linda continued to relax against me, the way I found myself letting go of my worries when I was with her. It felt silly, being in love and feeling like you were 16 and discovering that giddiness again. But it was perfect. She’s the perfect thing to end the night with after a dinner like that. Just the person I need - that I always need. Not that the Ono-Lennons aren’t pleasant - but they’ve turned a hint unfamiliar. They were something that I didn’t want to handle. Linda lifted it all away.

We continued stumbling down the road, mumbling sweet conversation to each other. Reminiscing about the night we just had, giggling at old jokes again. She let go of my hand and wrapped herself around my arm, entangling us further. I wouldn’t mind if this moment lasted forever. I’d go down any path with her. It didn’t matter, because she would always be there; she’s a shoulder to lean on, a second opinion, and someone who believes in me - constantly. I didn’t know how much I needed that.

[freebooter4ever]

the wildest part they left out from with the old breed: “As we moved toward the smaller ‘lobster claw,’ Snafu chanted, 'Oh, them mortar shells are bustin’ up that ole gang of mine,’ to the tune of 'Those Wedding Bells Are Breaking Up That Old Gang of Mine.’”....like...can you imagine....after snafu asks eugene for a cigarette and thanks him...he then just starts singing a song about how all his male bffs are getting married and he is lonely, but then changes the words to be about all his male bffs dying...

[selfship-uncharted]

The Fugitive part XII

part I - part II - part III - part IV - part V - part VI - part VII - part VIII - part IX - part X - part XI - part XII - part XIII - part XIV

A/N: Thank you so much as always for your support! A/N2: English is not my first language. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x OC (Claire Russell) Warnings: a little angst, violence, sexual assault (not explicit), blood Words: 3,250 (Geez... that’s not like me at all :’) ) Tags: @asiramhera @missdictatorme @zoilalove213   @avast-you-dirty-dog @lowkeyofsassguard

Special thanks to @asiramhera for being my beta-reader. Tons of love for you!

The sound of the key opening the cell woke them up. The headache instantly made its appearance, more on her than on Arthur.

She blinked several times before seeing that it was her cell that was being opened.

In front of her, there was a policeman, behind him, Theodore looking at her with severity.

Even though her headache pained her strongly she stood up quickly. Arthur stood up too, holding firmly the bars between them staring at the newcomer.

Theodore walked in the cell, Claire instinctively walked away from him bumping against the wall feeling his intense gaze analyzing her.

The silence between them was suffocating her, her heart was beating fast ready to break her chest, she didn't expect Theodore to go get her in prison, she hoped they would be free to go in the morning and just reach home like nothing ever happened.

Claire with fear dared to look at her husband not knowing what he would do. She didn't have to wait longer. Theodore outraged slapped her violently making her fall on the ground.

"You son of a bitch!" Arthur shook the bars with impotence wanting to punch that bastard.

Theodore briefly looked at Arthur but ignored him. He got close to Claire and took her arm and dragged the girl out of the cell.

"I hope this will be enough to close the matter." He gave some bills to the policeman to buy his silent about Mrs Cornwall having spent the night in prison. The policeman grabbed the bills and nodded.

Arthur saw powerless how Theodore took away Claire, knowing that nothing good might happen to her. He kicked frustrated the bars that didn’t let him go.

Then, Arthur heard Theodore's voice excusing himself after distinguishing the sound of a thud. He had bumped into Hosea, who apparently was coming to get Arthur out of prison. The old man noticed Claire and was ready to salute her but she was too self-absorbed to see him and he decided it was maybe not a good time.

Theodore opened the door of their coach and pushed Claire in it, he jumped behind her and closed the door. He hit the ceiling of the coach with his cane to order the driver to take them home.

Claire was scared, she could easily tell that Theodore was irate, he was so tense, Claire had never seen him like that and she didn't know what he might do to her.

"I didn't want to believe my father's words..." He started chewing every word. "He told me you were a whore... It seems he was right." Theodore in a fast movement grabbed Claire's hair making her head lean backwards. "I've tried to be good to you. I've given you all the space you wanted, I tolerated all your caprices, I let you spend our fortune how you please without a word, and this is how you repay me? Betraying me, making fun of me with a buffon, a stray dog?"

"You are hurting me..." Claire involuntary protested trying to free herself from his grip.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mrs Cornwall!" Theodore tone was completely sarcastic, even evil.

Theodore threw Claire to the front bench, holding her wrists strongly. "I asked you for one thing. One. Simple. Thing." He took her wrists in one hand while she tried to get rid of him kicking him, but he was already between her legs. "And you are going to give it to me the good way or the bad." He lifted her skirt.

"No!" She cried. "Get your fucking hands off me, you fucking bastard!"

"Shut the fuck up!" He slapped her even harder than he did in prison. "You stay still."

Claire's eyes were filled with raged tears, she bit her bottom lip, she didn't want to cry in front of him, she didn't want to give him that pleasure.

"He is way more gentle..." She started with a tremble in her voice but looking straight up into his eyes. Theodore stopped unbuttoning his pants and looked at her puzzled. "When he kisses me, every part of me is burning from desire..." She knew she was playing a dangerous game but she was determined to piss him off as much as she could. She was not going to enjoy it and neither would he. "And when he gets inside of me..."

"Shut up." He warned her grabbing her face, squeezing her cheeks.

"I can't wait for him to impregnate me with his seed." She spat out with hatred.

"You fucking whore!" He slapped her several times with fury while she cried in pain. With her blood rolling down her chin from her lips she helpless saw how he ripped her shirt exposing the underwear, ready to remove that annoying corset.

Suddenly the door was wide open and a hand took hold of the backside of Theodore collar and dragged him out of the coach.

Claire panted recovering her breath and trying to understand what was happening. She got out of the coach and saw Arthur straddling Theodore punching him not leaving him time to recover from every fist he received in his face.

"You son of a bitch! Don't you dare put your hands on her ever again!"

Claire looked around her, they weren't in Saint-Denis no more, they were so busy fighting each other that they didn't realize that the coach changed its speed and its direction.

"Arthur, stop! You are going to kill him!" Claire turned around to see Hosea on his horse and holding the reins of Arthur's horse.

"You piece of shit..." Arthur released Theodore from his grip letting him fall nearly unconscious on the ground obeying Hosea.

Claire looked at her husband, his face was completely covered in blood, he was whining from pain, he was pathetic.

"You all right?" Arthur cupped her face to make her look at him.

She just nodded covering herself with trembling hands. She bent down her head to hide her tears that been falling for a while. Arthur noticed the blood coming out of her lips, her red cheeks from all the slaps and pressed his jaw in anger, if he saw that earlier he would have hit Theodore even harder.

"It’s okay now..." He whispered pulling her to him. "I got you. I got you..."

The second time he said that it was softer than the first, making Claire bury her face in his chest, trying to put her mind in blank to forget what just happened and feel safe in his arms.

"I'm afraid I might interrupt," Hosea cleared his throat grabbing Arthur’s attention. "But we should get out of here, I don't think the police will take long to get here."

Arthur then realised that he actually didn't have a plan, he looked at Claire thinking of what to do, where to take her, she returned the glance with a plea in her eyes and tightening her grip on his arms. She didn’t want to come back to that city.

Hosea sighed with impatience. "It's obvious you have to take her to the camp, she can't go anywhere else after this..." He pointed Theodore with his chin.

Theodore was crawling in pain in the ground and reached for the hem of Claire's long skirt. She stepped back instinctively releasing herself from his grip.

"Claire... You are mine..." He whimpered being unable to stand up. "If you go with him... You are dead to me."

How dare he? After all he did to her? Those last few days have been a nightmare for her. Claire looked at him with bitterness and pity, she closed her fists in hatred.

"So be it..." Claire took off her wedding ring and threw it to him. She didn't wait for any reaction of him, she went to Arthur's horse and mounted it.

"Are you coming?" Claire was holding the reins waiting for Arthur to get on the horse.

Hosea looked at her with a smile of amazement. He liked that woman.

***

Shady Belle was a big abandoned manor that the Van der Linde gang was using as a camp. Around the mansion there were several tents, some bonfires were litten and people sat around them keeping them alive.

The horses stopped before getting into the camp. Arthur helped Claire to get down the horse, Arthur saw her looking around her with insecurity.

“It’s all right, Claire.” He said softly. “You are safe.”

They walked into the camp, Arthur’s arm around her shoulders but his eyes checked his surroundings like looking for someone.

Claire noticed some curious eyes going to her, there were many kinds of people there. Even a little toddler who ran to his mummy's skirts asking who was that strange lady.

“Mr Morgan!” an old lady come to them with surprise in all written in her face. “What is this all about?”

“Miss Grimshaw, this is Claire…” Arthur cleared his throat. “Russell. Mrs Russell.” He quickly looked back at Claire then turned to Miss Grimshaw again. Miss Grimshaw inspected Claire, her awful image, the blood in her lips, the red cheeks, the state of her dress. “Could you please….”

“Of course!” She said raising her hand to make him say no more. “Come with me, child.”

Miss Grimshaw took Claire by her shoulders and dragged her away from Arthur. Claire instinctively turned around to see him.

“Be with ya in a moment.” He reassured her.

“I’m going with her.” Hosea tapped Arthur’s shoulder and walked with the two women.

Arthur nodded. “I’d better talk to Dutch...” He fixed his hat and went to the gang leader room inside the manor.

***

Miss Grimshaw took Claire to one of the tents, and invite her to sit on a chair.

“Tilly!” She yelled. “Need some help her’!”

A beautiful black young girl appeared seconds later.

“Yes, Miss Grimshaw?” She eyed Claire from tip to toe surprised to see a stranger in the camp.

“Assist Mrs Russell to get herself clean and take care of that horrible wound.” Miss Grimshaw’s order was quickly executed. Tilly delicately cleaned Claire’s lip wound as the trace of mud in her face from the riding to the camp.

Tilly discerned the sorrow in Claire’s eyes. They were red from crying, her cheeks were still burning from the slaps. She felt sorry for her even though she didn’t really know what happened to her.

***

Arthur went upstairs to find Dutch in his room standing by the window holding a book. He didn’t seem to have any interest in the book since he was looking through the window.

“Who is she?” Dutch asked not bothering to turn to Arthur, his eyes locked outside the house.

“The news sure run fast.” Arthur chuckled nervously, he wasn't sure why he felt so agitated, he was afraid maybe Dutch would get angry to him having brought a stranger to the camp even if they did that quite often, but now it wasn’t the right time to bring more people in, or that he might make it more difficult for her bringing her here.

“I remember her.” Dutch was looking to where Claire was. “Mrs Russell, isn't it?”

“Yeah…” Arthur’s sight fell on the floor.

“I can't help myself but ask how you two met.” He closed the book he was holding and turned to see Arthur's reaction. “Don't get me wrong, son. I don't see how a woman of her status would mix it up with…”

“Someone like me?” He smirked bitterly.

“Let's just say, with outlaws.” Dutch clarified himself.

“Long story….” Arthur sighed.

***

“Everything good, ladies?” Hosea Matthews stepped in the tent going by Claire’s side resting his hand on her shoulder to reassure her. “It’s okay, child. You are safe with us.”

“What happened?” Tilly couldn’t help but ask.

Claire pressed her jaw and looked away at her memories. She could still feel Theodore’s grip in her wrists.

“Her husband was... badly beating her.” Hosea explained patting Claire's shoulder, feeling her going tense.

“The poor girl!” Gasped Tilly. “Don’t worry, Mrs Russell. We will take care of you.” She took Claire’s hand into hers and gently squeezed it. Claire looked at her with surprised. She wasn’t used to that kindness, only from her dead maid Marianne.

“Mr Matthews! Mrs Russell needs some privacy!” Miss Grimshaw scolded the old man. She gave some new clothes to Claire she found in an old trunk. “Now, hush!”

Hosea felt obliged to leave the ladies alone.

***

“I am all ears.” Dutch's invitation came accompanied by an intense stare at the cowboy.

“I… her father… she…” Arthur didn't know where to begin, he didn't want to lie to Dutch but at the same time he wanted to protect Claire, he was afraid that if Dutch knew her relation with Cornwall he might use her and put her in some kind of danger. “Some months ago, she ran away from home. Her father paid me well to take her back… That was when I spent some weeks off the camp...” Arthur waited for a reaction in Dutch before continuing but he didn’t do anything. “We saw again at the mayor's party… since then, we met... occasionally…”

“Did you sleep together?” Dutch question hit hard on Arthur. The cowboy bit his bottom lip annoyed.

“I don't see how this information is of use to you.” Arthur tried to hide his discontent.

“You are right. Out of curiosity.” Dutch smiled trying to make him relax. “How she ended up here?”

Arthur took a deep breath. “You see… hhm.. she sent me a note about having information of Cornwall.” At those words, Dutch eyed him intensely. “We met in a local tavern and started to drink… quite a lot… we got drunk.” Dutch nodded understanding the situation. “You know… I'm not a good drunk…” Arthur excused himself. “We got involved in a fight and ended up in prison.” He wasn't proud of it, Dutch could felt his guilt in his voice. “This morning… Theo… her husband came to take her out… He… that bastard beat her… I… I couldn't stay still. I had to do something. She is a good woman, she doesn't deserve that!”

“So you beat him up and took his wife, is that it?”

Arthur slowly nodded, to hear it out loud make him realise how stupid he was.

Dutch looked back through the window to see Claire, he found her a beautiful, refined woman. Still, he didn't understand how that young woman of her status would get interested in Arthur or interested in giving him information about Cornwall or how she have information about him anyway. Somethings didn’t make sense for Dutch, he had some unanswered questions stuck in his mind but maybe wasn't the time to ask them.

“She can stay with us.” Finally said Dutch at Arthur's relief. “Let’s just hope Mr Russell won’t be looking for her here.”

***

Claire finished fixing her clothes with the help of Tilly when Arthur stepped in.

“Now, you look beautiful, Mrs Russell.” Tilly smiled at her gently rubbing Claire’s arm to comfort her.

“Call me Claire.” Claire corrected her with a sad smile. She felt strange using her father’s name again, but to use Cornwall’s name was out of the question. If it was for her she would erase both men from her life.

“Of course, Claire.”

Arthur cleared his throat to alert them of his presence. Both women turned around to see him. Claire’s and Arthur’s eyes locked into each other but neither of them said a word. Arthur stare at her being unable to say a word, he liked the clothes Miss Grimshaw gave to Claire, but he was so worried about her and all the situation he brought on to her.

Claire feeling his intense gaze she blushed and looked down. Noticing the blush in her cheeks Arthur scratched the back of his neck and bit his bottom lip nervously looking somewhere else.

Tilly easily caught the tension between the two of them with a smile on her face. Not that every day you saw Arthur Morgan being nervous around a woman.  

“You have her ready.” Tilly announced to Arthur with a smirk. She turned to Claire to add: “Don’t worry, Claire, you are in good hands.” Tilly left them alone not before gently bumping to Arthur's shoulder to whisper him to take good care of Claire.

“Now what?” Claire asked trying to hide the tremble in her voice.

“You can stay with us.” Arthur explained to her getting close.

“So, I’m part of the gang?” She chuckled nervously.

Arthur let a deep breath escape his lips. “Claire, I can’t lie to you... We are wanted men…”

“I know… I read in the newspapers about Blackwater, Valentine… I know…” She tried to dismiss him, she didn't want to hear any excuse from him.

“No, Claire, listen to me.” Arthur cupped her face to look straight into her eyes. “Having brought you her’ I…. You might...”

“It’s okay, Arthur.” She raised her fingers to cover his mouth to stop words coming out of it. “I understand... I really do. But...” She deeply sighed, Arthur moved his hands to her shoulders. “I prefer to be here, with you, than in that golden cage with… that bastard. So, no matter what awaits me here, I am staying with you.”

“Damn, girl….” He lowered his head hiding his face from her. Claire couldn’t say what was with him but she felt his hands shaking holding her shoulders.

“Arthur? Are you okay?” she asked concerned.

“Yeah… I guess…” he said more to him than to her. “Come, I'll show you around.”

***

After meeting the gang and spending some time with them the night fell Arthur guided Claire inside the manor to his room up on the first floor.

“I know it's not what you're used to…” Arthur removed his hat closing the door behind them.

“It's okay… really…” Claire looked around her, all the manor was falling apart for nobody took care of it in a long time, Arthur’s room wasn’t an exception. She noticed some pictures on a wall. “Can I?” She asked permission to Arthur to take a closer look.

Arthur nodded and Claire got close to those pictures.

“Oh my, is this you?” Claire pointed to a photo she could easily tell it was Arthur, Hosea and Dutch some years ago. “How old you were here?”

“Don’t remember… 18… maybe?” He rubbed his nose embarrassed. “That’s ma father… he wasn’t a good man.”

“And this I guess your mother?” Claire smiled at Arthur who was flustered by talking about himself. Claire then noticed another picture in a frame, it was of a young beautiful woman. “And she? She is beautiful.”

“That’s an old story…” Arthur took down the picture against the table hiding it.

“Oh, an old sweetheart of yours?” Claire teased him feeling his discomfort.

“Don’t wanna talk about it….” Arthur jaw was visibly tensed and his eyes looked sadder than usually.

Claire understood it was a delicate matter. Maybe a sweetheart he wasn’t over yet. That hurt a little. She sadly smiled and sat down on his mattress.

“So, we are going to share, this?” She raised an eyebrow to him.

“I can sleep on the floor, if you want.”

“Seriously, Mr Morgan?” Claire faked offence. “There is enough room for us. If you hold me tight.” She added with a mischievous smile.

Arthur shook his head, she was hopeless.

[thecoleopterawithana]

I’ve already mentioned how in September 1969 we were in a meeting and talking about future plans, and John said, ‘Well, I’m not doing it. I’m leaving. Bye.’ In the ensuing moments, he was giggling and saying how this felt really thrilling, like telling someone you’re going to divorce them and then laughing. At the time, obviously, that was wildly hurtful. Talk about a knockout blow. You’re lying on the canvas, and he’s giggling and telling you how good it feels to have just knocked you out. It took a while, but I suppose I eventually got with the programme. This was my best mate from my youth, the collaborator with whom I’d done some of the best work of the twentieth century (he said, modestly). If he fell in love with this woman, what did that have to do with me? Not only did I have to let him do it, but I had to admire him for doing it. That was the position I eventually reached. There was nothing else I could do but be cool with it.

Paul McCartney, on “Get Back”. In The Lyrics (2021).

[thereallovebug]

Cue the song, “Wedding Bells Are Breaking Up That Old Gang of Mine” 😭😭😭

Sherlock Holmes [2009] dir. Guy Ritchie