#Ringo plays a packing case?

[wheresthebus]

Because I didn’t know that this isn’t on the CD version, this is also on Beatles For Sale.

“The kids of AD 2000 will draw from the music much the same sense of well being and warmth as we do today.” - Derek Taylor.

[thislovintime]

Peter Tork and The Peter Tork Project, early 1980s; photos by Michael Ventura/Alamy.

“Eventually, Tork moved to New York City, working odd jobs and performing ‘sporadically.’ In the early ‘80s, after he quit drinking, he started a couple of bands, Peter Tork and the New Monks, and the heavy-metal-leaning Peter Tork Project. But Tork says that heavy drinking had ‘left me with mediocre skills. Until I started working on my skills again, it didn’t matter.’” - Los Angeles Times, October 20, 1992

“In June of 1982, Peter Tork was in my face again. It was at a gritty, downscale, but packed-to-the-gills club in Boston called Bunratty’s. (Long gone.) Tork, then 40, was on a tour he described as the ‘I Have to Laugh to Keep from Crying Tour.’ It was billed as Peter Tork and the New Monks – Tork plus four crack musicians providing a hard-rock ride down memory lane. We talked a bit between sets. Me: ‘What it’s like going through life and to always be viewed as a former Monkee?’ Tork: ‘Compared to what?’ I paused for a moment and thought to myself, ‘Exactly! When this is the life you’ve known, what can you compare it to?’ (This was one of the best answers I’d ever had to one of my queries.) I re-used this anecdote when I talked to Ringo years later – switching up Monkees for Beatles in his case – and he chuckled. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘What can you compare it to? This is where I am and this is what I am.’ So, why were we Bostonians packed shoulder-to-shoulder in the post-punk heyday to hear ‘60s pop done live and loud? ‘A lot of people come out and they want to remember the old songs,’ Tork said. ‘They want to drift back to when they were fetuses or however old they were then.’ [...] ‘When I arrive at the gates of St. Peter,’ Tork quipped, ‘he’s going to say First one to go . . . okay, we’ll let you in.’ One Peter to another. ‘When I quit the Monkees,’ Tork continued, ‘the first thing I wanted to do was divorce myself from the whole thing entirely.’ Tork formed a ‘straight- ahead pop rock’ band, Peter Tork and/or Release, but it failed to go anywhere. In late 1971 and early 1972 Tork spent three months in jail for possession of hashish. Tork, who was a folk musician prior to Monkee-dom, resurfaced in 1977 to play an acoustic gig at CBGB’s, at the time New York’s prime punk club. In a sense, punk was responsible for bringing Tork back to work. The Sex Pistols did a vicious sloppy cover of ‘Steppin’ Stone,’ and other punk new wave bands have embraced the Monkees on two levels: 1) damn good pop tunes and, 2) potential kitsch value. Tork, who was married and living in Venice, Calif., was on a tour playing small U.S. clubs. (Dolenz and Jones, incidentally, had also formed Monkees facsimiles at that time and were rumored still to be big stars in Japan.) Tork has been around the area all week – he was playing an even dive-ier club in nearby Somerville the next night – unveiling a repertoire that consisted of some Monkees tunes, some non-Monkees originals, and some early rock ‘n’ roll covers. He wasn’t exactly playing the Monkees’ songs by the (Boyce & Hart) book. I’d venture to say this was almost hard rock/heavy metal Monkees music. ‘The [Monkees] records are a little thin by contemporary standards,’ Tork said. ‘People who are just into rock ‘n’ roll and had a lot of contempt for the Monkees phenomenon as a whole aren’t going to come in the first place. People who are on the borderline – they liked the Monkees and they like rock ‘n’ roll today – are going to come. If I play it like it was off the records, they’re going to say ‘Well, it was nice to see him but so what?’ If I play ’em right and they want to dance, I’ve got good musicians whacking away and they’re going to come back.” Tork’s musicians – Phil Simon and Nelson Bogart, guitars; Vince Barranco, drums; and Paul Ill, bass – have played variously with Little Feat, Dave Brubeck, Joe Beck and Carolyne Mas. [...] Although not signed to a label, Tork said producer Jimmy Miller (Rolling Stones, Traffic) was ready to record an album with them. (Jimmy Miller, who lived in our region, was had made maybe the greatest Stones album ever in Exile on Main St., but was drug-damaged goods by that point, sad to say.) ‘My goals right now are to make a living entertaining,’ Tork said. ‘Put away something for my old age, cookouts on the weekend, no big thing. You never know what’s going to happen. One of these days I might make a mark on my own.’”- Rock and Roll Globe, February 2022

[okwritingandpain]

Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da: The Beatles x Reader

Chapter 10

"John." "Ringo." "Paul." "Geo." "It's George-" "Ie! Georgie!" John laughed on the studio floor. George rolled his eyes and strummed his guitar. Paul was fiddling around on his bass, Ringo was tapping the ground with his drumsticks, and John was writing lyrics down on a piece of paper. Next to him was Y/N, who had gotten lucky and now had her own guitar. John was teaching her how to play, which was rather kind of the growing popular rapidly John Lennon.

"That's the B string." John was helping her remember all the strings. She wrote it down on a piece of paper. She went back to strumming the strings and practicing chords.

"How's that baseline coming along?" George asked Paul who seemed extra focused in practice today.

"I've almost cracked it, Geo," Paul replied, playing a part of what he had written.

"Speed it up," John said, not looking at Paul.

"Speed it up? You haven't even heard what it sounds like with-"

"Speed it up." John cut in. Paul glared at John and played the bass line part faster. He then turned to Ringo, George, and Y/N.

"So? Which sounds better?" Paul asked. Everyone shrugged.

"It's hard to tell without hearing it together..." George said, softly.

"I agree with George." Ringo didn't seem interested in the conversation as he continued tapping the ground.

"Maybe if you play both versions during a session, we could hear the difference," Y/N suggested.

"If we change the speed, we'll have to change the tempo," Paul explained. John shook his head.

"Just trust me," John replied. Paul looked frustrated.

"Okay, okay." Paul took a deep breath. "Let's try it." John did a quick tune of his guitar. George, Paul, and John began to strum. Y/N watched with Ringo beside her. The song flowed well with the speed-up baseline. Ringo tapped the floor as he joined the others. As the song reached the end. Paul improvised the ending because his part was faster.

"Nice improv, Macca." John smirked. Paul gave a little smirk.

"I guess you were right, John." He said, looking at Y/N.

"Well of course I was right! How could you question me?" He asked with a chuckle. Y/N gave a devilish grin.

"Very easily." She retorted, warranting a smile from the band.

"Are we calling it a day?" Ringo asked, fiddling with his drum sticks.

"We've only been in here for three hours, Ringo! How could we even be close to calling it a day?" John questioned, preparing to play the next song.

"Can a man not be hungry?" Ringo muttered as George snickered beside him.

"I could go for some lunch." He replied, messing up Ringo's hair.

"Alright everyone. Let's vote!" Paul said, "Who wants to practice?" John raised his hand. Ringo and George stuck their tongues out at John. He looked appalled by their reactions. "Now everyone who wants to go to lunch." George and Ringo raised their hands. Everyone now turned towards Y/N. She raised an eyebrow at them.

"What?" She asked.

"Aren't you going to vote?" George asked, confused.

"No." She replied, packing up her guitar in its case.

"Why not?" John squinted at her.

"Because I have to go see Scott." Y/N stood up with the case around her shoulder, carefully avoiding stepping on the instruments.

"Of course you're going to see Scott." John rolled his eyes.

"Stop being jealous, John." She remarked, now at the door to the studio.

"I'm not jealous!" He yelled as the other band members laughed.

"I think he is jealous, George!" Ringo bubbled, wiping a tear from his eye. George quietly giggled at Ringo's remark.

"Stop it!" John snapped.

"Or what?" Ringo questioned, still laughing. Paul watched them all silently. He stood up and walked over to Y/N.

"So, are you going out tomorrow night?" He asked as the others continued arguing.

"Why?" She smiled. Shrugging, Paul watched John scream at Ringo and George who couldn't quit laughing.

"I think John wants to go out on another date." He chuckled.

"I never would have guessed." She replied, sarcastically. "Hey, John! Do you want to go out tomorrow?!" John turned his head towards her.

"Really?" He asked as George tried to muffle his laughter.

"You know it!" Paul replied, turning back to Y/N.

"I thought you were going to ask me out McCartney." She grinned as Paul smirked.

"I just want to see John try and have a girlfriend." He confessed, walking away. Ringo was messing up John's hair as George snatched his guitar.

"George if you get one scratch on that thing--" John yelled.

"Oh, whoops!" George joked. John tried to push Ringo off, but he was determined to mess with John as much as possible. Paul decided to get in on the action and he took the guitar from George and began playing it.

"Paul!" John roared, now successfully pushing Ringo away from him. He jumped up and chased Paul around the studio. Y/N was laughing harder than she ever had, watching all four of them trying to get John's guitar. They all came dangerously close to stepping on their instruments, which was bothering her, but she decided to let it go. Finally, Paul gave the guitar to Y/N which she was surprised by. Everyone stopped in their tracks, not knowing what she would do.

"Well..." She started, checking to make sure the door was unlocked. "I have to go!" She ran with the guitar in hand through the door.

"NO!" John screamed, pushing past everyone to get out the door. He chased her down the hallway, but caught up quickly. She gave him his guitar.

"Fun as always, John." She gave him a hug.

"Are you sure you have to go?" He asked, sadly.

"I'm afraid a job is something I should be on time for." She smiled, giving his head a little pat. Without hesitation she messed his hair up like Ringo had done.

"Seriously?" He mumbled as she laughed.

"What? Creativity comes from messy hair. I would know and also trademark that's mine now." She remarked, turning around to leave. The others filed in behind John.

"I guess John will see you tomorrow!" George snickered.

"Yeah! Maybe we'll have to tag along!" Ringo added.

"Oh, give him a break. You know he never gets girls." Paul held back a laugh.

"Macca, I swear--" John got cut-off.

"Bye guys! See you tomorrow!" Y/N waved at them. They waved back as she disappeared around the corner and headed for her job on the other side of town.

[lick-me-lennon22]

George caring for a sick Dhani 💜

(thank you to @pmak2002 for this request!! it was supposed to be just a blurb but I did a little research beforehand and it ended up pretty much becoming a whole fic 😅 oops... either way, I hope you enjoy this one! 💕)

When Dhani wakes up for school on Monday morning, he immediately knows something his wrong. His throat is sore, his nose is runny, and his muscles ache like nothing he's felt before. He painstakingly drags himself out of bed, clutching the sheet around him, and heads straight to his parents' bedroom where he finds his mum Olivia still in bed. Dhani notices that the bathroom door is cracked open and cautiously steps inside to find his father, George, brushing his teeth. "Dad..?" he says quietly, voice hoarse. George startles, turning around to see Dhani in his unfortunate state and spits his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink, letting the water wash it down the drain before turning the tap off. "What is it, my boy? You sound bloody awful..," he gently presses the back of his hand to Dhani's forehead to assess his temperature. "You seem to be running quite the fever, son- let's get you to the doctor, all right? Just let me finish up in here and I'll be right out to take ye" George says. Dhani nods weakly, coughing into his elbow, and shuffles out of the room. George jumps into action- he swishes and spits some mouthwash, changes out of his sleepwear into a button-up and jeans, and sprints to the car, his son following close behind him and hopping into the passenger's seat.

 

"This is ridiculous.." George mutters under his breath as he walks his son out of the clinic and gets into the driver's seat of his car. They had been able to see the doctor almost instantly upon arriving; he had taken some swabs, run a few tests, and determined that Dhani had contracted the flu: "He probably picked it up from school," the doc had said. When George had requested a prescription of some kind to alleviate his son's symptoms, the doctor simply shook his head: "I'm afraid there isn't much we can do for him. The flu's been going around at many schools, I've seen a lot of children this past week with the same complaints. As it stands, all I can tell you is to give him some over-the-counter medicine, bring him some saltwater to gargle for that sore throat, and be sure he gets plenty of fluids and bedrest." George tried to argue, stating that there must be something he can do to cure Dhani of his illness sooner- but as the doc's hands were tied and George didn't want to subject his son to more stress, he took Dhani by the hand and led him out of the office, through the lobby, and back to the car. "Alright, my boy," George sighs- "seeing that the doctor was no help whatsoever, we're headed straight to the drugstore for anything that'll help you feel better. Sound good?"

"Yeah Dad, sounds good" Dhani croaks out and smiles weakly, glad just to spend some time with his father. Being a famous musician and all, George isnt able to spend as much time with his son as he'd like to, a lot of it consumed by work and media-related endeavors. Dhani admired his Dad more than anyone else in his life and though they rarely got the chance to hang out nowadays, they were practically best friends and had formed a close bond throughout his childhood. George was always a fun parent, bringing his son along to festivals and such ("Don't tell yer mum," he'd say with a grin), and sticking up for Dhani to authority figures and even other kids at his school- he was fiercely protective of his boy. However, he was also a gentle parent who allowed Dhani the chance to explore and express himself, and had fostered a mutual respect between the two of them since his son was but a toddler.

"I'm pulling you from school for the whole week" "But what if I'm- *cough*- all better before then?" "Just in case, Dhani- it's not like you really need them and their indoctrination, anyway.." George grumbles, never having been a fan of traditional schools or their teachings. Dhani however has always cared about his grades and paid close attention to the lessons he's been taught, in spite of what his father thinks. "...Okay, Dad" he says meekly, wanting to protest but unwilling to sacrifice more quality time with his famous father. George pulls into the parking lot of the nearest drugstore and marches in, intent on gathering all the supplies his sick boy could need: tissues, lozenges, cough syrup, pain medication, ice packs, and even more tissues- 'just in case.' He makes his way to the checkout, queuing up, paying for the items and hauling his bags back to the car. He drives Dhani home as quickly as possible, carrying him to bed and tucking him in before calling and cancelling any studio time, interviews, or collaborations he'd previously planned. There's only one committment he can't cancel- dinner with Paul tonight for the first time in ages. George sets his son up with all of the remedies he'd bought and tells his wife Olivia everything about the situation, including the "unhelpful and useless" doctor they had gone to see. She of course agrees to care for Dhani, sending her husband on his way to dinner with one of his long-time best friends.

 

The following day George rises just before noon, having stayed up late to pal around with Macca. He runs the few errands on his agenda, including grabbing his family some lunch, and pulls into his driveway back home where he spots the vehicle of none other than Richard Starkey parked outside. He makes his way to his son's room to discover that Uncle Ringo had come to visit the sick young lad (having found out from Paul that Dhani had come down with a bad case of the flu), joking and cheering him up to distract him from his poor state. The two close friends chat for some time in the living room before Ritchie departs, Olivia checking up on Dhani in the meantime. George thanks his wife and dismisses her from her nurse duties, taking on the responsibility himself. He tiptoes to his son's bedroom cautiously and enterd to see that he's been tucked in, the ice pack George had picked up from the store the previous day resting on his forehead, half-lidded eyes trained onto the telly. "Dhani..?" "Oh- *cough*- hey, Dad"

George approaches the bed and sits down carefully, holding a paper bag out to Dhani. "I brought you a burrito- your favorite," he grins down at his son, who takes the bag: "Really? *cough*- Thanks Dad, you're the best!" he says, hands emerging from the blankets to tear into the treat. George stays sat on the bed, determined to spend time with his sick boy and make sure he knows how loved he is. Glancing around the room at the piano and guitars he's bought and played with Dhani, then back to the young man, Ringo's words from earlier echo in his mind: "He's growing up into such a wonderful lad. He's just like you, ye know- good looks and all."

Olivia had always said they were very alike, but he'd usually dismissed the observation... until now. George couldn't help but realize that they were right- though he was but eleven years old Dhani was already becoming a very talented and creative musician, having learned much about music from his dad. He'd certainly taken after his Beatle father in that regard, and they were in fact very similar- not to mention their near identical looks. Sharing his Dad with the world had been difficult and a bit isolating for Dhani despite his many school mates. He admired and looked up to George from a very young age, always striving to be just like him. As Dhani grew up before George's eyes, he became more and more like his father by the day and George was immensely proud.

His train of thought was broken suddenly when Dhani finished the burrito, crumpling the paper bag and tossing it into the bin. He landed the throw, earning a hearty laugh and a high five from his father. He closed his eyes and laid back, George stroking his hair gently, the two of them cherishing this moment of father-son love. "Are you gettin' sleepy, Dhani?" he asked tenderly- his son nodded in response, already drowsy despite the brightness of the late afternoon sun. "Tell you what- I'll play you a lullaby, that way you can rest easier and know that I'm here beside you." "Dad," Dhani chuckled, "aren't I a little too old for that?" he lied, secretly longing for the affectionate gesture. George grabbed his son's acoustic guitar from its stand and begin to tune it: "You're never too old for yer old man's love and attention, eh? Now you just relax, close your eyes, and rest." Dhani didn't protest any further, heeding his father's instructions with a soft smile on his face. With that, George began to play- he chose "Here Comes The Sun," fingers strumming the strings gently and with care, dedicating the sweet words to his beloved son. By the time he was finished Dhani was fast asleep- grin faltering as he drifted off, but still visible on his lips. George placed the guitar back on the stand gently, taking care not to wake the sleeping lad. He smiled to himself, tears welling in his eyes as he turned to admire his son's peaceful face. "I love you, my boy," he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Dhani's forehead before tip-toeing out of the room and shutting the door cautiously. Back pressed against the wooden door, George let his eyelids fall shut and sighed: "Sweet dreams, Dhani." ♡

[megan1412]

Get Back

Fast forward a few years. The band is falling apart, and John and Paul have to consider how this is going to affect their family.

————————————————————————

1969

John crawls out of bed and puts on his glasses. He sees the clock, 6 AM. He groans and gets up to stretch. He sees Paul passed out on the bed. He rolls his eyes and shakes Paul. He gets a groan from his husband.

“Jesus John. Leave me be. I’m too tired.”

“We have to go record today.”

“What’s the bloody point? We never get anything accomplished anymore. George and Ringo are at each other’s throats almost every day. Me and you barely agree on anything anymore. May as well just stop going in.”

John rolls his eyes and puts on his robe. He decides to go downstairs and make some tea. He doesn’t notice, but he has a shadow following him down. As he gets to the kitchen, he hears a creak and spins around. Elizabeth is standing behind him with a grin. He sighs and bends down.

“What are you doing up this early lambkin?”

“I heard you wake up.”

“Well it’s too early. Come here and give your daddy a hug.”

Elizabeth runs up to John and embraces him. She messes with his beard as he tries to shake himself awake.

“When are we gonna see Uncle Ringo and Uncle George again?”

“I don’t know sweetheart. They are going through a tough time right now.”

“Are they no longer friends?”

“I don’t know. But things are rough. You needn’t worry about these things dear.”

“I know. But you’ll be ok right Daddy?”

“Yes. For you and Jules and Sean. And your Dada too. You should go back up to bed.”

“Ok”

She runs up back to bed and John sits down at the table with his tea. He lights a joint and looks out the window. Where things going to be ok?

Later on when John finally got Paul up, they went to Abbey Road to continue on the new album. Pretty much right off the bat, George and Ringo had a disagreement, and Paul was trying to boss everyone around. It was driving everyone insane. Even George Martin was ready to come down there and slap someone. Linda was sitting around looking confused and nervous. John looked at her with annoyance. Ever since Paul met Linda he had spent a lot of time with her. He understood that Linda needed help with Heather and all that, but he couldn’t help but feel jealous.

“Look can we get on with the bloody thing? We don’t have all day.” Paul said with his head in his hands.

“I’m ready if you all will get your head out of your arses!” George said bitterly.

“Can we please just get on with it? Please?” Ringo pleaded.

“Ok let’s go I guess.” John said quietly.

As they begin to play Get Back, Paul messes up a chord and gets frustrated.

“Damn it I forgot the chord.”

“Oh great. You wrote the bloody song can we get on with it?” John said, annoyed.

“Can you get off my arse for one second Lennon?”

“There’s a lot of things that I need to be on your sorry arse about McCartney!”

“Like what?”

“The fact that that woman is here!”

“Linda?”

“Yes, ever since you met her you have been bringing her and that kid around and it’s been disturbing the sessions.”

“She’s my friend and she’s allowed to be here if she wants to!”

“You are breaking the deal!”

The bickering went on for another half hour. Linda had got up and left with Heather. George was packing up and preparing to leave and Ringo noticed.

“Where are you going?” Ringo says bitterly.

“Home. No use in staying here while the lovebirds argue.”

“Well then, go and see Olivia then.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Suddenly, the control room’s door burst open. George Martin came down with a dangerous look in his eye. Everyone shut up.

“Look, if you four cannot behave like men then we may as well pack up and end this! I’m not wasting my time listening to four grown up men argue like toddlers. This is not healthy. Either get your shit together or disband the group!”

The four men looked at each other with wide eyes. George never got that pissed. They began to pack up in silence and rearranged the setup. George stormed out first, leaving Ringo trailing behind groaning. As Paul put up his Hofner, John spoke up.

“You go on home. I’m going out for a bit.”

“For a drink? John it’s three in the afternoon.”

“No. I’m visiting someone.”

He picked up his guitar case and walked out to call a cab, leaving Paul alone in the studio with his thoughts.

The cab arrived at Cynthia’s house. He knocked on the door and then appeared Cynthia. One look made her understand and she pulled him inside.

“I don’t understand what’s happening Cyn. Things have been going to shit for a while now. George and Ringo are at each other’s throats, me and Paul can’t agree on anything anymore and I’m jealous of this woman he met and is helping out. I don’t know what to do.”

Cynthia just listened as John poured out his emotions. She hadn’t seen John this stressed out in a long time. She held his hand and just looked up at him. When he finished, she gave him a minute and decided to give some tough love.

“You know John, you can be a bit of an arse sometimes right?”

“Yes…. I know.”

“You all can be. I’ve known you since we were teenagers. No one besides me and Paul and Mimi know you better. You need to let your guard down and know how to negotiate better.”

“But how to handle George and Ringo?”

“Let them dish out their anger on each other. It’s none of your business. What’s your business is working on your marriage and your business relationship with your husband. What if one day your anger accidentally comes out on Jules, Sean, and Lizzie?”

He went dead silent. He realized that he needed to work on his anger so that his kids don’t get in the middle of it.

“Think about that. Now go home John. Work on it. Make it right.”

“Your right Cyn. Your right.”

He hugged her goodbye and called a cab to get home. As he approached the house it was a quarter to seven. The porch light was flickering on and the sun was setting. He paid the cab driver and ran up the steps. Paul swung open the door and looked at John with cold eyes. John ran up to Paul and hugged him to much surprise from his husband.

“We need to work on this Paul. For the sake of us. For the sake of the kids. We need to work on us.”

Paul’s cold demeanor made him uncomfortable as he continued to hold his husband. The kids were sitting on the staircase with unsure expressions. Paul pulled away and met John’s somber gaze.

“I know we do. But for now, I think we need to be apart for a bit.”

The words cut John like a knife.

“What?”

“Just for a few days. Go stay with Mimi or your sister. I need to be alone with the kids.”

“Please… Paul don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not. I’ll call you later.”

The door shut and startled John. He stayed on the porch unsure of what just happened. He decided to call a cab and call Mimi. When he got to the bus station, he called Mimi.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mimi. Its John.”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?”

“I need a place to stay for a little while.”

“Good lord John Winston. When are you expected to come in?”

“In about two and a half hours.”

“Are you ok?”

“No. No I’m not.”

To be continued……

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

Previous | AO3 | Next

___________________________

Chapter 3

The Paris news continues to speak of the Akuma two days after the event, Marinette is stressed coping with the disaster that remained on her catwalk. Unlike in previous years, Paris is not ready to deal with another Hawkmoth again, and the city's mood fell immediately from the moment appeared. Fashion week continues, but everything feels bad. They have not officially left the apartment since the event, although they have been going to the MT headquarters.

She looks at the cup of chamomile tea that Hugo, her butler?, was kind enough to prepare to help her relax, but she knows that a tea won't help her.

"Mother, we should get out of town. You're pale. ”Damian approaches her and analyzes her posture, obviously she didn't sleep the night before because she was checking the security cameras distributed by Paris looking for the origin of the butterfly, but they are more than five hundred and Max's algorithm barely reduced it to one hundred and twenty cameras. He's concerned about her health, he knows how she gets when she focuses too much on a task.

"Do you want to go to the country house?" She asks putting her head on her arm, dozing off from lack of sleep and the calming effect of chamomile. She just needed a distraction from her mind.

"Yes, you could use a break. Felix can take care of everything in the MT and if they need us, we are a portal away. "He maintains his neutral expression, there are days when he reproaches himself for caring for the woman who decided to adopt him knowing that he's a trained killer, but today is not one of those. She never wanted to change it, not as he thinks his father would have done if he had gone to live with him... Bruce Wayne doesn't tolerate murder, after all. The MT is curious, they dance a lot on the gray line. He was lycky to get them.

"Yeah... you're right." Mariette straightens up and rubs her eyes. If they are going to travel, she must avoid falling asleep until they are in the car on the way to the country house. "That reminds me, we can take Ringo, the vet says that its leg is already better and that he can be transferred from the shelter without problems. "

Damian is encouraged by the news, the little cub was shot in the leg by some thieves, the owner despised him taking it as lost, but he asked his mother to help it heal so that it would not die. The puppy is alive and they can take it to a place where he can be safe and be a happy dog. They made the right decision.

"Go get your bags ready. Maybe we will get to lunch time. "She gets up and picks up her phone, she must notify the employees that they will arrive earlier than planned.

Damian goes to his room being followed by Longg, he must get everything he will carry ready. Not even fifteen minutes have passed when he has everything ready, keeping comfortable clothes to be able to play with his pets in the extensive terrain, very different from his normal residence.

Marinette and Damian live on the top floor of an apartment building just four blocks from the Eiffel Tower, she likes the evening view and even has a window where she has placed a mattress. Damian also became a fan of that same location and became his favorite area within the apartment, although he prefers the Animal Shelter and the country house, both of which were bought especially for him, all because she couldn't fill the apartment with animals (despite of her own desires to do so).

The only pet in the apartment is a very demanding fluffy white cat who likes to be the center of Damian's attention, who gets angry on weekend trips to the country house, where it's forced to live with the others animals ... dirty and unworthy of be a Lenoir. The cat is very proud to be the favorite and it hates with all its might the cat of country house, which always steals the child's precious attention (with dogs it doesn't get in because they are very large, two German shepherds, a Garafiano shepherd and an Australian Shepherd, plus a Bernese Mountain puppy.)

Damian is ecstatic with the prospect of spending six days on the country house, although the cat, named Dafne, doesn't look happy and even growled at the boy when he tried to grab it the first time, now it has already relaxed and brought its bad humor to its transport box. He closes the box and takes his things, now all he has to do is wait for his mother to stop being a mess to they can leave.

"Do you have your suitcase yet?" Marinette asks going from one side to another in the rooms, Damian doesn't even answer her and he only goes out to the living room to wait until she finishes messing up the whole apartment. "Hugo, where are my sketch books?"

They're already packed, Miss Marie. Also the fabric catalog of the next collection and the general balance of the month."

Hugo is a very English man to someone who lived in France most of his life, but she's not going to question him about it (Max did a very good background check). He started working with her a year after founding her brand and somehow managed to discover the MT and is now an unofficial member, making her escapades much easier by having him cover her. She's grateful to heaven for making her cross her path, she would have gone mad without him already.

"Thanks, Hugo."

"Hugo, did you pack the Kwami and Dafne meals?" Damian asks when the man returns to the room. He's eager to leave to meet his pets, he sees them every week, but it's not enough time.

"Of course, the extra order for cheeses was also made for the country house."

"Oh, Hugo! You're the best, I hope you live a thousand years!" Plagg arrives full of joy and almost dares to hug the man, but that is not his style, on the contrary, he cheers for the excellent service. "I wish all my kittens would treat me like you. "

Marinette enters the room with her suitcase and looks at Plagg with mock annoyance, amusement seeping into her gaze. She misses Tikki, she was always the voice of reason, but Plagg has a unique way of keeping her high spirited and, with the stress of her life, very much appreciates his presence, daring to consider he more effective than encouraging words from Tikki.

"Yeah, right? It's not like I paid for all your cheese. ”Plagg flies towards her and repeats the action, causing her to finally laugh at his games. Longg lets out a small snort from his position near the boy, he had not made any noise and that causes others to be surprised by his presence sometimes. Damian rejoices when he sees the others jump off  for forgetting that Longg is active too.

"Shall we go now, mother?"Damian takes out some Dior brand sunglasses and the black mask from his handbag to prevent his face from going out in magazines or social networks without his consent, he doesn't understand what is the interest in them, they are only people with a little money and a brand that becomes more famous after each show. In any case, they shouldn't be interested in him and he detests those who do.

"Yeah, we can go now."                                                

Damian smiles with pleasure putting on his dark glasses, which are already part of his daily wardrobe because he always accompanies Marinette to all kinds of events, the least he can do is learn to combine brands and styles for each time he goes out. He usually opts for black, although lately he no longer cares about trying styles and clothes that he would never have considered wearing.

When they go out to the main entrance, where Hugo is already waiting for them with the car, he have already put on the mask and, of course, a curious spectator treats them as if they were the stars of an Oscar-winning film. At least no one can notice his annoyed expression under the mask.

They enter the car and Damian takes the opportunity to get Dafne out, it prefers to travel like this and  they will not change vehicles as when they leave the country, he can carry it all the way. Everyone thinks that he’s too spoiled, but he considers that it's fair since it's the only animal that he's allowed to keep at home.

As the small Lenoir family moves towards the country house, in the MT, Kagami destroys the training dolls with a saber, under the watchful eye of Luka who, from the second level, watches her move with the fury of a hurricane. He mentally notes placing the doll replacement as part of the following month's expense.

"If she continues like this, she will come looking for us to fight with us." Luka turns to the person who has just entered, Alix stands near him, appreciating the power of the cuts and the lethality of the Japanese woman. "The little demon would have a good training match with her. "

"Mari sent a message, they will be at the country house. "

"How envious, I wish I had a place like that to escape to." She yawns, leaning on the railing. "But duty calls.”She mutters when her phone starts ringing to the rhythm of the Seven Nation Army, which means it's a call from work. Alix walks away just waving.

Luka smiles softly, it's a calm day. Perhaps everyone is a little more tense, stressed and with excitement itching their hands, but it's very calm, life continues its course regardless of the problems that may exist. The insignificance with which life itself deals with the matter gives he the certainty that they will solve it, that this time there will not be a third party that stands in their way of recovering Nooroo.

The voices are loud outside the training room and he can see the moment when Nathaniel and Kim enter arguing, Marc is a few steps behind them looking at them with an undoubtedly irritated expression, as if they had been on that same topic for a long time.

"I tell you, if we were to work with someone outside the MT, it can't be Batman. I love my privacy, thanks. ”Nathaniel says tired, he despises eternally the heartless blonde who brought up that subject only to leave saying he had job. Kim is not an official member, hei tournaments trips and constant swimming training prevent her from being one, so he doesn't fully understand why the MT remains so in the shadows (even with the irony that the Parisian media talks about they with the same frequency as Jagged, Clara and other famous faces).

"He would help a lot, you know."

"Yeah, but he would also discover the Miracoulous and that is a resounding no. Our duty is to protect them and the less people know it, the easier it'll be. "

"They mention it in the news!"

"In fact. "Marc speaks behind them, tired of hearing them repeat arguments. "Since decree No. 35 of the current French government was released, any mention of the Prodigies in the media will be sanctioned according to the provisions of the MT, that is to say, us, and of the Parisian heroes, also us. It has even been included in the Constitution as a secret of identity and provenance for the protection of heroes. Chloe was devastating when she demanded a law that protected us and the Kwami, without lying, she put all the cards on the table without mentioning personal gain. "

Kim is speechless, he really didn't know that. When was the last time he updated on the laws in his country? He might as well break some and he wouldn't know it. To take into account, just like talking to Chloe about it.

"You see? Now that we are done with this, can we train? "

Kagami destroys the last doll at that moment and turns to the newcomers, has released all her frustrations.

They are supposed to be starting the investigation into the new Hawkmoth, but the mayor's office has requested that they refrain from starting the investigation for a week, he does not understand the irrationality of that request. She's very angry at the mayor's negligence, the longer they delay the investigation, the harder it will be to track him down. Still, it annoyed her more the way Marinette and Felix so easily accepted orders… when they don't take orders from anyone, they can move around the edges of the law, but they're not below it.

"Has Mari-hime arrived?"

"She texted that she'd be at the country house with Damian, she needs the break," Marc replies before heading to the locker room to change into training clothes.

"Where's Felix?"

"Work." Nathaniel growls the answer and then follows his boyfriend, just thinking about the blonde makes him bitter. An hour arguing nonsense with Kim is enough to put anyone in a bad mood, he doesn't understand how Max can be such a good friend with him.

Kagami frowns and hands the saber to Kim before leaving the training room, she's angry again. What do Marinette and Felix intend? She rarely understands what goes through their heads.

Luka comes down from the second level to intercept Kagami, she's being overbearing on the whole miraculous butterfly issue. He knows that Marinette doesn't play with the affairs of the MT, she doesn't endanger them on purpose and they don't make hasty decisions, only one person is more cautious than she and that is Felix, if the two agreed to wait, they have something keep in mind.

"Kagami." He calls her, but she doesn't stop. "Kagami."

"I'm not listening to you, you're going to defend them."

"I ask you to think about it more deeply. Mari is very serious about retrieving the butterfly clasp, she knows what she's doing."

"Oh, Yeah. I really believe that." She looks at him annoyed, in front of him.

"You are upset, but don't let anger cloud your thoughts. We are all frustrated, eager to fight, but we will only hit a wall if we rush. You have to know when to take a break, this is a good time. "

She purses her mouth, holding back the words. He's somewhat right, their cannt just run into the unknown pretending they know where they are going. Her only answer is a nod before she resumes her journey, perhaps she should go see her mother and stay away from the MT until the break ends or another Akuma appears, whichever comes first.

_______________________________

Damian @DamianLenoir

Ringo is better and today he will meet his new brothers, he is a very happy puppy.

[Attached photo]

Alix @LostHeroBunnix

Why did I think opening an art school would be fun? I should have kept my skates.

Felix @GrahamV_Felix

Should I yell or yell at the worthless one who flooded the set? I just had to turn on a tap, not recreate the scene of the Biblical Flood.

Nath @NathanielKC_twt

@GrahamV_Felix Being nice and not giving a scare of death to the people around you could help you the other people not flood the set. Did you know?

Felix @GrahamV_Felix

@NathanielKC_twt And become Marie? Is not my style.

Marie L. @MarieLenoir

@GrahamV_Felix @NathanielKC_twt Too much style for you, it doesn't fit with you; p

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

Marie take me with you! @MarieLenioir

Damian @DamianLenoir

@BourgeoisQueen NO.

______________________

Ages:

Tomoe T: 50. Bruce: 45. Dick: 28. Luka: 26. Jason: 25. Marie and her group: 24. Tim: 19. Damian: 10.

[wincestisasincest]

2000 Man (A beatle!reader story) - Part 4: If Love is a Drug

She is back! And better than ever.....

Not really, sorry it’s been radio silence/lurking, she’s had something of a depressive episode recently, but she’s getting back on her feet. So yea, I don’t want to promise anything, but I’ll try to post more.

And finally get a masterlist at some point with this series, for goodness’ sake.

So yea. 

When should I stop crediting @casafrass for this? I feel like it’s getting annoying, but it’s only fair. 

Description: It’s the year 2000, and y/n, the fifth member of the Beatles, is advertising her new book, Madam Beatle, in her first interview of the year. We see snapshots of her life, from when she joined the band, to the trials and tribulations, to the death of the band, and everything in between. Loosely inspired by Slumdog Millionaire.

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4

Headcanons: Based off of this one, though like, not really, just the general vomit theme. 

Words: 3,951 (woop, she’s a long one, get ready for some TEA)

Pairings: Honestly, just let me know if you would like me to put some pairings in here, because most of all of the ones that I’ve written, you can read it either way, so please, just let me know! 

Warnings: Vomit, drugs, pills, violence, swearing

“So I understand that at one point you talk about a conversation that you had with Judy Garland.” 

“Yes, she and I met, actually I don’t remember where, but it was one of those random ‘high society’ parties, and we struck up a sort of conversation. I think we found each other’s stories interesting, because, as women in the entertainment industry, even across film and music, there were some startling similarities.” 

“Would you care to expand on those similarities a little?” 

“I mean, besides the fact that so much of the focus is on our bodies, which we’ve already discussed, the zeitgeist of the time seemed to be that women simply weren’t ready to handle all of the pressures that that sort of system put on us. Of course, this meant drugs, particularly amphetamines, which were quite vogue in the US at the time. Judy and I were both familiar with that sort of concept, however, the difference lied in that Judy chose to go on amphetamines, and I was given them.” 

“Given them by...?” 

“EMI, mostly, but everyone, including me, was complicit in a way. Though, it did slip more into self-regulation in the Beatles’ later years, and I even fully recovered by my solo career. But yea, especially in the earlier ones, during our massive concert tours, a lot of it was... very strong suggestions.”

“You were known for being very strong-willed, though.” 

“Yeah, but y’know, it’s my career. I guess at the time, even if EMI had let me go, I could’ve gone somewhere else on the name alone, but I was young, stupid, and scared of non-existent threats, so I really did put up with it for quite long.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She hasn’t come out of that room since last night.” 

“It’s called sleeping, Rings.”

“It’s past noon! She came straight up here after dinner last night.” 

“And she locked the door.” 

“Very suspicious.” 

“You think we could get Mal to break it down?” 

“What if there’s a guy in there?”

“Then we’ve got to break it down.” 

“She’s an adult!” 

“What if she’s DEAD?” 

“Someone get Mal.” 

Your eyes fluttered open. With friends like these, who needs an alarm clock? 

Through blurry eyes, you could read the actual alarm clock: 3:17. 

Everything was alright for about 20 seconds, and then all of the crappy feelings had re-settled into your wakened state. Your legs felt like they were filled with cement, your nose was congested, your hands were clammy, you were extremely sweaty even though it was absolutely freezing, and you were stilled tired, even though you had gone to bed at 7:30 last night. 

You sauntered over to the door, pulling on a pair of sweat pants over your bare legs. 

You pressed your sweaty fingers down on the cool lock and pulled it open. 

“Do not! Call Mal! I am here.” Four blank faces gawked back at you, all far more spritely than you cared to admit that you weren’t. The suits were on as well. 

“Is that what you look like without makeup?” John quipped in mock-surprise. He knew damn well what you looked like without makeup, he just couldn’t give up a chance to be his sarcastic asshat self. You sighed.

“Not now, please, John.” The light in the main suite was too bright, so you pushed your head into the doorway and closed your eyes. You wanted to sit down again. 

“(y/n), love, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it is 3:30, and you’ve got to get your act together at some point.” You couldn’t see his face, but you knew that was Ringo.

“I know what time it is, I’m just... eurgh,” You didn’t bother opening your eyes, “This shit is exhausting.” 

“We can’t can-” 

“I know, I know,” you interrupted Paul, “I’ll be out in fifteen minutes.” 

- time skip brought to you by I am very tired - 

“(y/n), do you want me to carry that?” George appeared at your side, holding his hand out near yours, grabbing at the guitar case. 

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You chuckled weakly. 

“Your playing was off. You missed a few chords. You didn’t smile as much, and your voice was weaker. I can tell.” 

“Rough night is all. Remember, we can’t cancel even if I am sick. But I’m fine.” Your grip on the guitar case loosened unconsciously as your arm felt weaker. 

“Sure.” George swung his hand in and grasped at the handle of your case, before taking it in his own. You sighed, but still didn’t feel like answering. 

“What a gentleman you are, Georgie.” John ruffled his hair with his free hand. 

A pattering of very angered footsteps approached behind you, and you instantly knew who it was. Only one man could angrily footstep like that.

“What the hell was that, (y/n)?” Brian spun you around to look at him. Though you could tell that there was some softness in his eyes, and that he was perhaps worried just as much for you as for your reputation, he was still fuming. 

“Whaddya mean?” You fumbled out. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice. You were out of it tonight. Well? What was it? Weed? Cocaine? Alcohol? All of them?!”

“Scout’s honor, Brian, it was just a weird night.” Brian’s grip loosened on your shoulders, as he facepalmed. He looked back up at you sympathetically.

“You’re a little pale, (y/n), perhaps you should take an early night.” You peered over your shoulder, only to catch the lads instantly trying to pretend like they weren’t listening in on your conversation. You were going to go to a very fancy club tonight, and you had been looking for a chance to dress up. You looked back at Brian, who was almost sweating. Anything to ease his worry. 

“Alright, just this night. Even though I swear I’m fine.” 

“Right, right. Why don’t you head back with the equipment, and I’ll head out with the boys?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” You sighed and could feel your eyes droop. You trudged back to the black van and hauled yourself in the back, giving a small wave to Mal in the mirror. He nods understandingly. You shut the van doors. 

“Where’s she goin’?” You hear John bug Brian like a petulant child.

“Back to the hotel, I think.” 

“Killjoy.” Paul muttered.

George just watched the van leave over Ringo’s shoulder, whom he was deeply in conversation with. 

- time skip - 

It happened again. You had fucked up again. You’d missed some of your chords, your voice had cracked at one point, and not in the hot way, and your energy on stage was no longer a bubbly bounce, but a gentle, almost sleepy, swaying. 

Your fuck-up only really hit you after, though, as you had zoned out while you were on stage. 

You couldn’t go out to face the boys. You just couldn’t. You sat in your locked dressing room, head in your hands, as you stared at your knees trying not to pass out. Everything was blurry. 

You were awakened from your thoughts by a loud thumping. You could feel your stomach drop. It was an angry knock. Why did men always have to be so angry? 

“(Y/n), I know you’re in there.” It was John. Of course it was John. It was always John. He never knew when to stop. 

You leaned back in your chair, dazed, knowing full well that you didn’t have to let him in if you didn’t want to. You shakily pulled a cigarette out of a pack on the table and it it with your delicately engraved lighter while the pounding continued. He would die out there if he had to. 

“Whaddya want?” You blew a plume of smoke and coughed.

“Why are women always so dramatic? Just let me in, damnit!” 

“Not if you don’t stop acting like a petulant goddamn child!”

“Call me a child, will you? I’m not the one who can’t handle every goddamn concert. What? Are you too tired? Awww, I’m sorry. Do you need a nap?” 

You could feel your eyes brim with tears. You put out the cigarette, grabbed your bag, and opened the window. The wind blew in your face, and it was almost calming. Using the gymnastics skills that you had honed as a kid, you slunk out the window and onto the open street, your heels clacking on the pavement. You pulled a coat over your face and called a taxi, only offering cash but making sure to keep your looks relatively obscured. Back to the hotel, where you could sleep it all off.

- Time skip - 

You slept for 20 hours, and yet, you still woke up feeling all the worse. The clock read 4:00. You were about to be late for call. There was no shuffling outside, so you could assume that the lads had already left. Awesome. 

You fixed your hair, grabbed your guitar, called a limo, and added small touches of makeup on the ride there. You could barely feel anything anymore, and your body had gone completely numb. You chunked on foundation way more than usual as to hide the cold sweat and incredible paleness that your face had broken out in. Some of the powder drifted over your lips, and you felt a welling of stomach acid churn. 

You swallowed, took a deep breath, and your stomach calmed down once more. You were backstage. 

You thanked the cab driver before slipping through the back door, barely being able to make it open. The first thing you met was Brian having a panic attack, which actually made sense for once, as there was about 15 minutes until you were on stage. 

“(Y/n)! Where the bloody hell were you?!” The rest of the lads were behind him, speaking and looking at you like some high school girl’s clique. You shot them an angry, but weak, stare.

“No one woke me up.” 

“You look like death.” Paul piped up from the back.

“You’ll meet death very fuckin’ soon-” You had no time for any of the sass anymore, but a hand clamping on your shoulder cut you off. You looked up to your left, and were greeted by the face of Neil Aspinall. 

“That’s enough of that, (y/n), we have something to do.” He didn’t wait for your answer, but simply lead you backstage. You were far too dazed to resist, so you simply let him steer. 

“So, the company, not me, heard that you haven’t exactly been on your A-game lately, and they recommended something.” You nodded, still not listening.

“Apparently, a lot of rockstars use it, they heard about it from the manager of the Animals or something, so I thought we could give it a try. It’s supposed to help you get that burst of energy that you need.” He patted your shoulder joyfully.

“Now, this is all of the company’s doing, so, if you don’t want to take them, then I completely understand, and I’ll just tell them that you did, but I am supposed to mention them.” Neil’s voice drifted off. In front of you was a table with several small white pills and a glass of water. 

“No. I’ll take it. We gotta a show to do.” You were sure that Neil said something, but you didn’t hear, as you were too busy downing the pills and the water in one determined gulp. 

- Time skip - 

That night was the most energetic that you had been. Almost too energetic. Your eyes were shot and pink, though fortunately all of the audience was too far away to notice. Your playing was erratic and very harsh, though the screaming was too loud to hear. Your vocals, well, those would not be matched until some actual crackheads took the stage later. 

None of your actions felt deliberate, everything felt at the whim of the surges of energy jolting through your body, while your actual mind just felt more and more disconnected, and your stomach churned. The lights gave you a pulshing headache. 

Three-quaraters through the show, you began to come back to Earth again, though not because the drugs were wearing off, but because something else was beginning to emerge. You could feel it. The wave rising up in your stomach. You swallowed. You shouted the lyrics into the microphone. You put your all into the song, even though you no longer felt the energy. You were not going to mess up on stage again. 

Paul gave you some side-eye. Though the fans were absolutely eating up, he wasn’t buying your shtick. 

Finally, you made it to the last number. The crowd screamed. Your heart pounded in your chest. You were sweating like crazy, and your hair was sticking to your face. Your legs felt wobbly, but you thew a hand up and waved goodbye to the crowd, as well as to any sense of calm in your stomach. 

As you shambled off stage, Ringo scrambled up behind you and put an arm around your shoulder, steadying you. Oh god, even he knew and he couldn’t see your face. Your guitar was slung around your shoulder, but you forgot that it existed, and slammed it into a poor stagehand. 

With your last sense of control left, you removed our guitar the minute that you got off stage and handed it to said stagehand, who was highly confused, while you grabbed the nearest trashcan and heaved your entire stomach into it. Mind you, since you had slept for the last day, there were hardly contents to begin with, just raw stomach acid.

Your throat burned, you sweat, and your eyes wanted to do nothing but close. You could feel gentle hands pulling your hair back, while startled screams and yells rose up backstage. You didn’t care. You had fallen to your knees, taking the trashcan with you, still completely retching your stomach into anything that would take it. 

“What the hell did you do ta her?”

“It wasn’t me, it was that stuff that EMI sent over?” 

“What stuff?”

“I don’t know, pills, something!”

“You gave her pills? She’s clearly had the fucking flu, on top of dealing with your ridiculous schedule. 

“I just did what they told me to do!”

“Brian! I want you to end the contract with EMI right now.” 

“John, you don’t mean that, sit down.”

“I second.” 

“Paul, John, why don’t we all just-”

“No! If this is how they choose to treat people, to treat (y/n), then I don’t want anything to do with them. Look at what you’ve done to her!

“What I’ve done?! This is not just me, and you know it.”

“I never said give her fucking pills!” 

“You never say anything, you just yell!” 

“Mal, can you call an ambulance?”

“Already done, Georgie.” 

The vomit stopped, and you lifted your head up, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. Ringo’s hands gently fell from your hair. 

“No, no ambulance, I’m fine.” Your voice was so raspy, like your throat had been torn out. 

John, Paul, Brian, and Neil froze in the middle of their argument while George and Mal cocked their heads to look at you from the side. John only stayed quiet for a second.

“You’re not fine, you’re on fucking drugs!” He lurched forward, approaching you. You could feel your stomach quell again. You swallowed. 

“Any drug that I was on,” you breathed deeply, “is in there.” You pointed to the trashcan. 

“You’re being ridiculous, I-” 

“No! Fuck you! You don’t get to say shit!” that come out far louder than you expected. You stood at your full height, willing to handle the discomfort if it meant telling him off. You’d even surprised John/

“How the fuck can you pretend like I’m the one acting ridiculous right now considering all the shit that you said to me yesterday? How far does your fucking double standard go? Of all the sins you’ve committed, John Lennon, I never thought that hypocrisy would be one of them. Get a grip, goddamnit! This is just as much your fault as it is mine, and I know you know that, so look me in the eye and for a goddamn second confront the consequences of your actions!” You were breathing very heavily now, whether with anger or exhaustion, and you could feel a surge of energy come through you yet again, though this time you weren’t sure if it was the drug.

You lunged at John, aiming your fist at his face. Everyone suddenly shifted into action all of a sudden, with George and Ringo holding you back and Paul pulling John away, though you noted that Paul refused to look John in the eye. 

“Woah, woah, (y/n), take it easy. Calm down. It’s alright, it’s alright.” You could hear George softly try to calm you, though your heavy breathing continued, and at some point along the way, you ended up crying into his shoulder as Ringo patted your back. 

“Come on, you’ve done enough.” You heard footsteps shuffle away, followed shortly after by another pair, leaving you, George, Ringo, and a very awkward Mal.

You cried until there were no tears left to cry. Your legs got tired from standing at some point, so you simply sat down, with George and Ringo joining you as Mal left to explain to the ambulance that they wouldn’t be needing their services today. 

You swallowed, and you could feel the tears begin to stick to your cheeks.

“We should probably go back to the hotel.” You leaned against George’s shoulder pensively.

“If you’re up to it, Birdie.” 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” 

You stood up weakly as Ringo wrapped his jacket around you. The three of you returned to the hotel without another word.

- Time skip -

You, George, and Ringo, slowly creaked open the door to your shared massive suite. Paul sat in the middle of the room, a beam of moonlight illuminating his face, legs crossed, just as he was waiting for you. John was nowhere to be seen.

“There you are!” he said in a stage whisper, “I was worried sick!” He rose from his chair and approached your trio. 

Before you could even anticipate what he was doing and protest, he wrapped you in a very warm hug. He was always good at those. He held you like he was afraid to lose you, and you used what strength you had left to return it with all your might, as if you were afraid to lose him. The two of you stayed like that for a minute, without words, before he separated. 

“You best get some sleep. All of you.” His eyes traveled to George and Ringo, and it was clear that there was no more room for negotiation.

The three of you gently drifted into your rooms with Paul watching you all leave. The minute your face touched your pillow, you fell into a dreamless sleep. 

- Time skip -

God only knows how long you had slept, but the growling of your stomach woke you up next morning. You felt a lot better, at least, and the mothering of Paul, making sure that you ate and drank enough, and that you didn’t need anything, made sure that you were gradually on your way to some form of recovery. 

Paul, as you had learned, was originally the one who had postulated that you had some form of the flu, and the symptoms proved his predictions correct. Thankfully, he was well equipped to care for people with the flu, having done so for his family growing up, so he knew all of the common remedies. 

John was still nowhere to be found, but George and Ringo emerged from their rooms one by one, and the four of you lazed around, reading papers and watching the news, for the rest of the morning. 

When you finally asked where John was, Paul answered that he had gotten up early and gone for a walk. Pretty long walk, you guessed, but didn’t pry. 

At noon, there was a gentle knock on the door. Paul admitted a very sheepish looking Brian into the suite. He approached the table. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You took a long sip of water.

“I’m alright, better than yesterday.” 

“That’s good.” His hand rubbed the back of his neck. There were other things on his mind. 

“Um, I wanted to apologize, on behalf of me, and Neil, who is speaking to the company at this point, he’s trying to-” 

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, pausing to gather your thoughts, “No, really, it is. You didn’t know, and neither did I, and neither did Neil. And I’m alive. Now we just know not to do it again.”

“I suppose you’re right,” you shifted in our seat to grab the tea pot, though Brian shook his head, “No, no, I must be going, we’re traveling again today. But, enjoy your tea, and I’ll see you in a few.” 

You nodded sagely. Brian began to take his leave, but halfway through the door, he turned around to look at the solemn crowd.

“You know, you all really do mean a lot to me. I promise you that. Not as clients, but people. This will not happen again.” And with that, he left.

- Time skip (last one, we’re almost done folks) - 

“I’ll take that.” John grabbed the large box off your hands, and you squeaked with surprise. His face twisted into an unfamiliar expression of damaged concern almost instantly.

“Oh, sorry, I just didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Yeah, I was on a walk this morning.” He continued to struggle with the box. You’d finally had enough of it, and leaned in to help him haul it to the top of the shelf in the crate. 

The two of you stood there awkwardly, both refusing to look the other in the eye.

“I-”

“You-”

You both began speaking at the same time, interrupting eachother. 

“You go first. “ He offered.

“No, no, I’ve said enough.” You waved your hands defensively.

“So have I.” He chuckled. 

Another awkward silence. 

“I guess,” he began, “I’m sorry for saying that shit to you. I was stressed, angry, and I know that’s not an excuse, but then you got on the drugs, and I was so worried, and I guess I just never realized...” he trailed off, realizing that he was just on the verge of not making sense. He took a deep breath. 

“I guess, what I”m trying to say is that I would never, ever, want you to do what you had to do there. It wasn’t fair of me to put that kind of pressure on you, and everyone else. And, you didn’t hear it from me, but I’ll try to do better.” 

You chuckled lightly. 

“That sounds like a plan. And, I guess I’m sorry for not coming to you sooner.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do. I just let you get worried about me, stupidly thinking that I could handle it all by myself, and I just totally forgot about everyone else. It’s kind of ironic that I, uh, snapped at you about how  your actions affect others, when I did the same exact thing. So, uh, I’ll work on that too.”

You swore you could see the smallest bit of a smile on his face. The first one in a while.

“Well then,” he thrust out his hand, “let’s make that a deal. Mutual forgiveness, and hopefully, mutual progress”

You took his warm hand in yours.

“You got it, John.”

[tabloidtoc]

Globe, December 7

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Hillary Clinton health crisis 

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Larsa Pippen in a bikini in Fort Lauderdale, Olivia Culpo wrestles with recycling outside her L.A. office, Shia LaBeouf ditches his face covering for a phone call in an L.A. market 

Page 3: Pete Wentz plays tennis, Bachelorette Kaitlyn Bristowe outside the Dancing with the Stars studio, Sean Penn hits the beach in Hawaii 

Page 4: Barbara Walters was sharp as a tack when she grilled the world’s biggest leaders but ravaging dementia has now tragically turned the 91-year-old into a prisoner in her own bed 

Page 5: Pistol-packing Elvis Presley was so gaga over guns that he’d even take a firearm to bed with him 

* Ringo Starr’s childhood bout with appendicitis at age six caused him to fall into a coma and spend a year in the hospital to recover then five years later he contracted tuberculosis and spent two years in a sanitarium where he discovered drums as part of the hospital band 

Page 6: If it’s true that Gentleman Prefer Blondes Marilyn Monroe was the perfect star for the flick because she dyed her carpet platinum to match the drapes -- beauty guru Kenneth Battelle suggested Marilyn change the color of her pubic hair after a jerk spilled champagne over her sheer dress at a party showing everything because she didn’t wear skivvies so the guru ran to the hotel drugstore and got some dye and told Marilyn to go in the bathroom and bleach 

Page 7: Celine Dion has turned into a frightening bag of bones leaving friends worried she’s headed for a catastrophic health crisis -- now down to a gaunt 96 pounds the star is driving herself to the brink of collapse with a diet and exercise plan to prepare for the relaunch of her hit world tour and she starves herself in her drive for perfection and to maintain the stick-thin look that helped turn her into a fashion icon

* Julianne Hough confesses feeling she didn’t deserve the A-list life she enjoyed while dating Ryan Seacrest where she was on private planes and yachts and living in a very well-off house and her life was pretty different from where she grew up -- she left Ryan in 2013 after three years because she wanted to create that for herself because she felt like she didn’t deserve it 

Page 8: Duchess of York Sarah Ferguson is searching for the Fountain of Youth by working out with Pierce Brosnan’s trainer -- the ex-wife of disgraced Prince Andrew is following a grueling exercise regimen in hopes of joining people who are said to be biologically younger than their true age 

Page 9: Disgraced Prince Andrew has been kicked from the royal family and now Prince Charles plans to boot his sister Princess Anne from his inner circle once he becomes king -- while the princess has carried her share of official engagements Charles plans to shrink the monarchy after his mother Queen Elizabeth passes and the phrase slimmed-down royal family constantly keeps coming up and the royal family will evolve with Charles coming to the throne -- Anne will be on the chopping block mostly because of ambitious Duchess Camilla who is Charles’ wife and who has carried out a ruthless dirty plan to be queen for decades and she wants no one else taking the limelight and that includes Charles’ sister

* Prince Harry and wife Meghan Markle dissed his dad Prince Charles with a surprising public snub as the couple failed to publicly wish Charles a happy birthday when he turned 72 -- Queen Elizabeth and Prince William and Duchess Kate all sent birthday wishes to the future king on social media but Harry and Meghan took a pass even though Harry popped up on the British TV show Strictly Come Dancing that night to wish a pal good luck

Page 10: A nuclear-sized catfight has exploded in North Korea where dictator Kim Jong-un’s baby sister and his pop star lover are battling to claw their way to be top gal -- while sister Kim Yo-jong seemed to be running the nation after Kim vanished and was rumored dead he popped back up with old galpal Hyon Song-wol on his arm and his current wife Ri Sol-ju nowhere to be seen 

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- Mario Lopez wearing a clear mask (picture), Lauren Simon of The Real Housewives of Cheshire in the U.K. claims to have had sex with an actual ghost, Kaley Cuoco has a theory about shooting those sexy big bangs with ex-boyfriend Johnny Galecki that the pair’s sneaky sitcom boss got a kick putting the real-life former lovers under the covers, Reese Witherspoon lost her beloved dog Pepper to cancer and returned to her ole Southern roots when picking a name for her brand-new puppy: Minnie Pearl, plagued by seemingly endless allegations of being mean and ignoring a toxic workplace Ellen DeGeneres is now plugging a Be Kind subscription box valued at $270

Page 13: Kristen Taekman tops of her gas tank in L.A. (picture), Jeff Goldblum feeding a parking meter in L.A. (picture), Hilary Duff gets primped and primed on the NYC set of Younger (picture) 

Page 14: Reclusive ailing widow Yoko Ono finally loosened the reins and is handing over her $800 million empire to Sean Lennon her only child with Beatles legend John Lennon but John’s eldest son Julian Lennon was left out of the hitmaker’s will but Julian managed to eke out a $25 million settlement okayed by Yoko after he dragged his famous dad’s estate to court, Kelsea Ballerini snapped at a nosy fan for rudely asking if her rounded tummy was a blossoming baby bump

* Fashion Verdict -- Lara Spencer 9/10, Laura Veltz 2/10, Lauren Akins 3/10, Lauren Alaina 4/10 

Page 16: Michael Jackson’s baby mama Debbie Rowe reveals getting pregnant was no thrill because she was artificially impregnated -- Debbie met ex-husband Michael when she was working for his dermatologist and she insists the couple never had sex and a sperm donor fathered the pop star’s two kids she carried in her womb -- son Prince Jackson is rumored to have been fathered by Debbie’s doctor boss Arnold Klein -- British actor Mark Lester claims her could be Paris Jackson’s father -- Debbie is unsure of the paternity of Michael’s youngest son Blanket who now goes by Bigi Jackson

Page 17: Fans gaga for Dr. McDreamy on Grey’s Anatomy got a super thrill on the season 17 premiere when Patrick Dempsey returned to the hit hospital drama after departing the show five years ago -- Dempsey whose character Dr. Derek Shepherd died in a car crash came back in a dream sequence reuniting with star Ellen Pompeo’s Dr. Meredith Grey on a beach -- Dempsey split from the show to spend more time with his family and pursue his auto racing hobby but he’ll return to the show several more times 

Page 19: 10 Things You Don’t Know About Emma Corrin

* Reba McEntire reveals she turned down The Voice gig that went to Blake Shelton and now she regrets it big-time 

* Nip/tuck junkie Dolly Parton says she plans to keep freshening her face by going under the knife and crows she’s gonna look like a cartoon and she’ll look as young as her plastic surgeons will allow her 

Page 20: True Crime 

Page 21: Former soap stud Cody Longo was socked with a domestic abuse charge following a jealous booze-fueled attack on his dancer wife Stephanie Clark -- Cody played Nicholas Alamain on Days of Our Lives from 2011-2012 

Page 23: Meredith Baxter felt booby-trapped by her enormous breasts and confesses she welcomed breast-reduction surgery after getting cancer -- the Family Ties star reveals her former 42-inch bust was the plague of her life

* Weatherman Al Roker has a secret weapon in his stormy battle to recover from prostate cancer surgery which is the love and support of his wife Deborah Roberts who is keeping him happy and positive doting on him day and night plus they talk about everything and make medical decisions together so there’s no fear or anxiety entering their world 

* Jennifer Lopez kicked booty when a federal judge dismissed a $40 million lawsuit brought by a former stripper who claims she inspired the hit movie Hustlers -- Samantha Barbash claims she’s the real-life model for J.Lo’s pole-dancing swindler Ramona Vega and insisted the movie ruined her rep by implying she did drugs around her kids but the judge tossed the case because Barbash’s name or portrait or picture or voice wasn’t used in the film 

Page 24: Cover Story -- Hillary Clinton has tragically packed on nearly 100 pounds since she vanished from the spotlight four years ago and is struggling to breathe and walk and now a medical expert is warning the 73-year-old is facing a health crisis as she tips the scales at 247 pounds -- Hillary has a history of broken bones and shocking collapses 

Page 26: Health Report

Page 30: Country girl Carly Pearce’s divorce from Michael Ray has gone from bad to ugly and he’s now parading his romance with Travis Tritt’s daughter Tyler Reese Tritt -- Carly was all for taking the high road but now she’s taken off the gloves -- they’re bad-mouthing each other far and wide and Carly’s tossed everything that reminds her of Michael 

* Southern Charm belle Madison LeCroy has been flashing a pic of her newest charms which is a set of bigger boobs 

Page 36: Diva Mariah Carey’s demanding ways are driving her boyfriend Bryan Tanaka bonkers and the couple of four years may be headed for Splitsville unless she changes her ways -- Mariah treats Bryan like an assistant instead of a lover and it’s giving him fits and he’s been so patient with Mariah and he loves her but she’s wearing him out with her incessant orders like she has him drawing up her schedule for online greets plus she’s ordering him to do all her holiday shopping for friends and be in charge of everything from decorations to food prep 

* Emma Roberts confesses being pregnant makes her weepy and she’s hit the point where like halfway up the stairs she has to sit down sometimes and maybe tears roll down a couple times a week but despite that Emma says she feels grateful and lucky to be expecting her first child

Page 38: Real Life 

Page 40: Phil Collins’ embarrassing court battle with third ex Orianne Cevey is casting a pall over his daughter Lily Collins’ wedding plans -- Lily is desperate to tie the knot with Charlie MacDowell but the dirty charges flying back may force her to put the happy day on hold and it’s hard for Lily to concentrate on making wedding plans when her father is caught in an ugly public fight -- Orianne is battling over Phil’s $38 million Miami mansion where they lived after reuniting in 2018 

Page 44: Straight Talk -- NXIVM cult is warning to us all 

Page 45: Treasure hunters have launched a frantic search for a $150 million stash of gangster gold hidden by mobster Dutch Schultz in Upstate New York after two sleuths recently discovered coins they believe are linked to the stash -- following a long list of cryptic clues Canadian fortune seekers Steve Zazulyk and Ryan Fazekas uncovered gold coins dated 1903 a few miles from the Prohibition Era beer baron’s hangout in the Catskills town of Phoenicia and their find triggered a race against other prosecutors seeking a two-by-three-foot steel box filled with diamonds and gold coins and $1000 bills and $7 billion in World War I Liberty Bonds and the hoard has an estimated value of $150 million today 

[cum-roll]

Are you telling me that this beat in the background isn't clapping but Ringo playing a packing case

[givemequeen]

and i love her ; john x reader

request: From the request list could you do number 2 with John Lennon. “We can't. You know we can't. Please don't make this harder thank it needs to be,” like John and the reader love each other but they can't be together a/n: yay, finally got to this one! and i feel like i’ll get asked for a part 2 pairing: john x starr!reader summary: you’re ringo’s sister and you fall for Johnny warnings: angst! fights year: 1962-1963 (dates of releases are a bit jumbled up, just go with it) word count: 3,420 (haha)

It was a mistake, all a mistake. You didn’t mean to walk up to your brother’s best friend and bandmate that night at The Cavern. To be honest you didn’t even know who he was. You only found out who he was, and he only found out who you were, after the second date when you went to The Cavern to watch Ringo, your brother play, and meet his new band.

Luckily John pretended not to know you so Ringo wouldn’t find out. You froze as soon as you saw him but luckily your brother didn’t suspect anything. Throughout the performance you worried what Ringo would think, would he even be mad? Your worries were confirmed when they came to join you and he began talking.

“Now lads, yn is off limits so don’t mess with her, okay?” he said looking at his friends, you and John laugh nervously along with the others. “Looking at you McCartney.”

Okay, he doesn’t suspect anything.

“And you Lennon,” Ringo added making you shoot a look at your brother but he was looking somewhere else. You then looked at John who gently shook his head. That night was tense but Ringo, George and Paul left you two alone to find girls to talk to. John claimed he wasn’t in the mood to do anything which they all thought was a bit suspicious.

“Holy fuck John,” you said as soon as the three guys were out of ear-shot.

“I know yn.” John scooted over to you. Your eyes were stuck on your fingers as you played with them. “yn...” you slowly looked up to him.

“Yeah?” you gulped, was he going to break up with you? Was it for the best? Wait, were you even a ‘thing’?

“I really like you.” okay he wasn’t breaking up with you. “And if you want we could do this but it would have to be a secret. I wouldn’t want to ruin the new band and if you don’t want to keep a secret from your brother I understand.” you smiled at his worried face.

“John, I like you too,” you said with a little laugh. “And yes, I would like to do this.” he smiled back at you and sighed.

“Got me worried for a second there birdie,” he mumbled while looking down at his drink. You chuckled and squeezed his hand with yours before quickly pulling away. John looked up to you and smiled at you shyness.

The first year of your relationship was a pure rollercoaster. Their band took off and they had their first tour that winter, that is after the realised an album. You were very proud of your brother, your boyfriend and their band. Ringo was still completely clueless and so was George and Paul.

“yn, you should come on tour with us.” Ringo said one time as the five of you at dinner at Ringo’s flat.

“And what would I do?” you laughed, you sat down in between Paul and Ringo around the round table, John was sat opposite you and he was watching your every move.

“Didn’t you study photography? There, you can be our own, personal photographer.” Ringo smiled at his answer and looked around. “I already asked Brian, he said yes but you might have to share rooms with us some nights.” you looked up at John, who was staring at you, and quickly looked away.

“Okay,” you said with a big smile, you were doing this! Then it hit you, it was going to be much harder to hide your relationship from Ringo if you were going to be with 24/7. You would have to be extra careful around him. 

“Okay,” Ringo repeated.

That happened around two weeks ago and your taxi had just pulled up at the hotel you were going to be staying at. The first stop was Bradford and they had their first performance tomorrow on the 2 of February. The boys were touring with 10 other musicians, they were fourth in line but it was still all very exciting.

Ringo helped you other of the cab and took you inside. You looked around the reception, the hotel seemed nice. The lady behind the desk was very nice, she handed you all two keys for two rooms. You eyed John when you got the keys and you couldn’t help but smirk, you were going to possibly share a room with him! Ringo would probably also be there but at least you would be close to John.

But that wasn’t the case, when you got onto your floor, after saying bye to the rest of the musicians, Ringo said you were getting an individual room. None of the guys argued, you knew John wanted to but he didn’t. So it was up to you to complain.

“Ringo, now, that isn’t fair. I’m more than happy to share a room with someone.” more than happy? Jesus Christ, chill. “I wouldn’t want to annoy anyone,” you added but Ringo shook his head.

“yn, you get your own room and if anyone-” he looked up to the boys and pointed a finger at them “- has a problem they can go to me.” Ringo smiled and gave you your room key before going into the other room they were going to be sharing.

You went into your room after saying goodbye to the guys. John was the last to go in, he gave you a weak smile and you returned it. Once their door was closed you shut yours, threw yourself onto your bed and sighed deeply. There goes your plan of being close to John. How were you going to see him?

Ringo came in after getting settled in, he told you they were going to have dinner and would love for you to join. It was going to be something fancy, to celebrate the tour starting and you had luckily packed a gorgeous and elegant dress. You told him you would shower and meet them in their room later.

After he left you went to wash your hair and get ready. While your hair dried you put on your makeup, just some light mascara and eyeshadow. Then you slipped into your dress, it was checkered and reached around mid-thigh. After putting on heels and checking your hair you went over to the guy’s room.

“It’s open!” someone, most likely George, yelled from inside as soon as you knocked. You took a deep breath in and opened the door. As soon as John saw you come in he stood up and smiled at you. He looked you up and down, George and Paul exchanged confused. You were going to say something but Ringo stepped out of the bathroom and right in front of you. He smiled when he saw you and pulled you into a hug.

“You look lovely.” he complimented. 

“Now, lets go lads.” Paul said as he stood up. George and Paul smiled at you as they went past you and followed Ringo out. They were all wearing the same black suits but something about John made him look 10 times hotter. He lingered behind, waiting for the guys to be out of ear-shot.

You looked at Ringo, George and Paul. They were in the elevator waiting for you. Your eyes darted from the lift, John in his room and your door. John had a look on his face, he wanted to talk, to see how you were, to be with you. An idea popped into your head.

“Come on yn and John!” George said.

“Wait, I forgot something. You guys go down, John can wait for me.” you quickly said as the door closed. As soon as they were closed John dragged you into his room.

“I missed you yn.” he panted after pressing you against the wall and kissing you gently.

“Me too Johnny but please don’t ruin my makeup,” you said making him chuckle.

“Okay love.” he was still laughing gently. “Better go down then.” you nodded and quickly kissed him before going over to the lift. He pressed the ground floor’s button and stood slightly behind you. John reached over and gently squeezed your ass making you squeal and gently hit him. He chucked but remind looking forward.

The doors opened and there was Ringo, George and Paul. They smiled at you and you two walked over to them. Brian was there too, he said there was going to be dinner to celebrate the start of the tour. A car had been ordered for the five of you to take you to the restaurant.

“I don’t see a change,” George said after a while of looking at you, you hadn’t noticed it, you were too busy looking out the window in awe.

“Huh?” you asked as you moved to face him.

“What did you forget?” all eyes were on him and you began to slightly panic.

“She didn’t find it,” John quickly said,  saving you but George wasn’t convinced, he nodded and kept his eyes on you for a little longer before looking out the window. You turned to John, who was sat next to you. He sighed and squeezed your hand, which was tucked in between you two, hidden from everyone’s sight. 

The dinner was nice, no one suspected a thing and John was very nice. He pulled out a chair for you, poured you drinks, offered you his food and talked to you. You were very surprised no one noticed anything, he was being very nice to you and going out of his way to do nice things for you.

First show of the tour was the next day and the guys spent the whole day rehearsing for the show that was going to happen that very night. When you woke up they were gone, Ringo left you a note saying they will be at the venue doing test runs, audio check and other stuff. You took your camera and made your way over there to take photographs, after all that’s why you came here, right?

Flash

“yn!” Paul said as soon as he heard the camera go off, the guys spun around to look at you and smiled. Ringo was behind his drums at the back, John was upfront messing with a mic, George was watching him with an amused face and Paul was hunched over his bass, tuning it. He was the only who’s body was facing the side of the stage, where you were.

“Heya.” you smiled going over to him, you leaned down to hug him. Ringo stepped out from behind his drum kit and hugged you as soon as you let go of Paul. “Hey Ringo.” you chuckled, feeling his warm arms engulf you in a hug.

“Sleep well?” he asked after letting go of you.

“Yeah.”

“I need to finish up with the drums but I’ll be with you in a minute, okay?” you nodded and went over to George and John. You hugged them both, holding on to your boyfriend just a little bit more. Deep down you knew George suspect something but right now you didn’t care. John whispered something into your ear making you giggle.

“Here to take pretty pictures?” he asked pointing at the camera that was around your neck.

“Of pretty boys.” you finished making them both laugh.

“Well, there’s the prettiest.” George pointed at Paul who looked up to you guys with a clueless look after hearing you all laugh.

“What is it?” Paul asked, gently laughing along.

“Nothing pretty boy.” you winked at him before turning back around to Geo and John. “Well, I’ll let you guys do your thing.” you waved goodbye to them and went to each individual member to take photos of them.

You got some fabulous photos of each of them. First was Ringo, he was still behind his drum kit messing with the stands and other stuff. He sat on the little stool available for him and began to gently hit each surface to make sure they each sounded like he wanted them to. When he noticed you were taking photos he looked down at you (since he was higher than the floor) and flashed a big smile.

Then came Paul, when you came to him he was still tuning his bass so you got some nice shots of him with his bass right next to his ear, a concentrated look on his face. George wasn’t lying, Paul sure was pretty. He had the nicest eyes, and eyelashes, you had ever seen. With a combination of his eyelashes and the lights that hung above him, a shadow was cast across his cheeks. He looked up to you with droopy eyes and slightly parted mouth and smiled.

George was by far the shyest. He had left John and was now messing about with his instrument, tuning it like paul and plucking the strings. You got a very nice shot of him from the lower angle, it showed the whole guitar and his delicate fingers as he played a couple chords. Talking about his fingers, you got another shot of just his fingers, they were so long and skinny. But eventually he warmed up, the last photos you took of him featured his silly expression which he mostly used his eyebrows for.

Finally, you went to John. He was still fiddling with his microphone but he smiled as soon as you came up to him. You smiled back and began taking photos. John messed around the most, he made silly faces at the camera, poking his tongue through his lower lips and rolling his eyes to the back his skull. It was all very funny and amusing, he did let you take a couple of normal photographs which you were grateful for.

That night the performance was absolutely perfect, you sat at the front of the stage. Not on amongst the screaming fans, but on the floor where the rest of the photographers were. John kept shooting funny looks at you making you giggle. They were fourth up and when they came on you were the one you cheered the most.

And that’s how the tour went. Dinner, rehearsal, photographs, performance, more photographs, sleep, change of hotel and city, more photographs, dinner, rehearsal, even more photographs, performance... It was both exhausting and pleasant, you managed to sneak in some time with John but it was already rushed and at some cramped broom wardrobe or any empty room you could find.

Everything was going perfectly, that was until the last show of the first part of the tour. You and John were flirting backstage and he got too handsy. He was very close to you and his hands were all over you, up your back, down to your ass, on your cheek and Ringo noticed. He stormed up to you two just as John leaned down to kiss you, Ringo pulled John off of you and pressed him against the wall.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!” he yelled earning the attention of George and Paul who were also in the dressing room.

“I- I-” John stuttered but nothing left his mouth, at least no full words. Ringo was angry, he began throwing punches at John. Luckily this all happened after the show so none of the pretty faces would be ruined.

“Ringo!” you called out after the initial shock wore out. You went over to him and tried to pull him off your boyfriend but Ringo didn’t budge. He just kept on hittting John, over and over again. Paul and George had rushed towards them two and were also attempting to pull Ringo off but the drummer wasn’t moving.

“Ringo! Stop it!” you cried, no response. 

“How... dare... you...” Ringo said, punching John between each word. “She’s my sister! You can’t just flirt with her! I said- I warned you she was off-limits!”

“It’s not like that,” you said since John couldn’t say anything. You pushed George and Paul off Ringo and jumped on top of him, you wrapped your arms around his making him finally stop punching John. But Ringo was now fighting against your grip, fighting to go back to punching the younger man who was now covered in blood. “John get out!” you told him and he didn’t need to be told twice, he rushed out and George and Paul followed him out.

Once the door was closed you let go of Ringo who had been trying to get out of your grasp like a dog. He turned around to face you, his face was red and his knuckles were bloody. His hair was all messy from moving around and he looked very angry, angrier than you’ve ever seen him.

“What the fuck yn!” he snapped. “You can’t go around flirting with my mates or fucking them!”

“It’s not like that,” you explained as you tried to keep your voice calm and steady but you were on the brink of tears.

“Really? Then what is it like?” Ringo asked.

“I- I love him, I do.”

“Love?” his voice dripped with disgust. “What do you know about love?”

“I know Ringo but with John it’s different. He treats me right, makes he happy.” you smiled gently and looked into his eyes but all you saw was rage and fury.

“I want this little fling to be over, got it?” he ordered before storming out the changing room. John must have gone somewhere else because you didn’t hear any fighting. You leaned against the wall and slowly slid down, you pulled your legs up to your chest and cried. You loved John, you really did and you didn’t want to break up with him but things were complicated, much more complicated than some silly love story.

You had to because if you didn’t The Beatles would break up and you knew, deep down, everyone would blame you. And you didn’t blame them, it would be your fault, wouldn’t it? Plus you didn’t want Ringo to be mad at you so you made up your mind. You were going to do it and you were going to do it now.

John was back in the hotel room. George and Paul shoved him in your room so when Ringo came back he wouldn’t have to see him. You came back a little while later, your eyes were red and puffy from all the crying and you knew those weren’t the last tears you were going to cry tonight.

“I need to talk to you,” you said to John when you saw him sat on the table, he was looking out the window but as soon as he saw you he stood up.

“What is it?” he asked but you both knew that he knew what was coming. John was all ruined and bloody from the fight. Someone had helped him clean up so his cuts weren’t actively bleeding. Getting hit by someone is one thing, getting hit by someone because you’re with their sister is another and getting hit by someone because you’re with their sister and when they have rings on is another thing.

“I- I’m sorry.” you broke down crying and he rushed over to hug you. You cried into his chest soaking his t-shirt but he didn’t seem to care and if they did he wasn’t doing anything about it.

“It’s not your fault love. This is on me, I should have been more careful.” John said, gently shushing you and petting your hair. You sniffled and pulled away, for this you had to be looking at him and in his arms.

“We need to break up.” you blurted out. His face fell and a tear formed in his eye. You had never seen John cry. In fact, you don’t think anyone had.

“W-what? Why?”

“You know why...”

“Because of Ringo? He can go fuck himself!”

“Come on John, you know things aren’t that simple.” you sniffled and looked away for a moment. John fell quiet, a thousand things running through his mind. He wanted to cry, he wanted to hold you close to him, he wanted to hit Ringo. No, he wanted to kill Ringo. He wanted to hear you say you didn’t mean it, that you weren't breaking up with him.

“But I love you,” John whispered. “We can be together,” he added when you remained silent.

“We can't. You know we can't. Please don't make this harder thank it needs to be.” you murmured.

[mithranqueersmusings]

Baby, You’re A Rich Man XXV

Chapter: 25/28

Rating: T (Violence Warning)

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

John and Paul had been the first ones to jump into the shower, despite John's suggestion that the four of them could fit 'easily'.

"You're insane, John." George chuckled sleepily, himself and Ringo were lying under the covers.

"I think we're a little past pretending there's any boundaries between the four of us." John walked happily over to the bathroom naked.

"I'd like to keep you out of my shower time, thank you very much." George was leaning up on his elbows.

"Suit yourself, its your loss." John grinned before he shut the door behind himself and Paul.

Ringo felt pretty exhausted from the whole ordeal, both physically and mentally, he only hoped that John and Paul wouldn't be long in the shower so that he could refresh himself but something told him they were only getting started. The silence left behind was comfortable, and Ringo felt himself slipping into a light sleep as he felt George's warmth close beside him.

"How are you feeling, love?" George asked in a quiet voice.

"Exhausted." Ringo mumbled, he was curled up to George's chest. "Wasn't expecting it to get like that."

"Me neither." George smiled against Ringo's hair, his lips pressed against the top of it "John can have that effect on people sometimes."

"Hopefully that's released some of his tension at least." Ringo pressed a kiss against George's bare skin "Less likely he'll kick up a fight later tonight."

"Hopefully." George repeated "Try not to worry too much, it should be fine."

"Well if you die just know..." Ringo started "I'll be really, really pissed off."

George laughed and Ringo felt it moving his chest, it was a comforting feeling he'd gotten used to "And we can't have that, can we?"

They lay exchanging lazy conversation for a while until John and Paul finally decided to vacate the bathroom; judging from the looks on both their faces Ringo was fairly certain they'd only continued their debauchery in there. Ringo hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of showering with George, or anyone for that matter, but he was far too impatient to wait for George to finish and would feel too rude insisting that he went in alone first. It gave him a chance to just ogle at George for a while, using the guise of washing as an excuse to touch his skin, so it wasn't a bad thing by any means.

By the time they were done, Paul and John were almost asleep lying on their bed and Ringo gladly followed their lead. They slept for an hour or two before waking up and passed the remainder of the time rather idly, listening to the radio or joking around with one another. One thing Ringo learned very quickly about hanging out with those three was that there was never a boring moment, of course there were quiet times or instances where they'd just sit around talking but it was never truly boring. They headed out for dinner early enough to give Ringo time to get to the club promptly; the conversation around the table was never as grim as Ringo might've expected it to be. Perhaps they'd decided not to discuss any plans too much in front of Ringo, perhaps as to not worry him, and if that was the case he was certainly grateful but he also didn't like the idea that he was being left out of what was really going on. The only acknowledgement really made was by George insisting that Ringo kept his knife on him tonight, and that he head straight back to the hotel without looking for them.

The walk to work was lonelier than it had been the previous time, Ringo only hoped that this would be the final instance and in the morning everything would be solved and they could head back home - or spend a few crazy nights in Hamburg, if John got his way. All in all the shift wasn't incredibly exciting, Ringo once again denied the pills from Klaus initially as he believed that if he was able to manage it once then he would again. Unfortunately his resolve failed him and after three hours of playing, and two more to go, Ringo was struggling to keep his eyes open at points and conceded.

"I told you, didn't it?" Klaus laughed proudly as he offered Ringo one of his pills; it was more than enough to get Ringo through the remainder of the night.

It was the end of the shift where things began to get interesting, as the band collected themselves in the back room they were joined by an unknown presence. Ringo was trying his best not to get completely enveloped by the feeling of the preludin, when he noticed the figure standing in the door who was currently speaking German to one of the band members. He was fairly short, wide and had dark black hair - Ringo assumed he must dye it - and was currently passing around the thin, silver cylinders which Ringo had come to recognise as the containers of the drug. So this was Stefan, Ringo thought to himself, as he struggled to focus on his features. Klaus seemed to be explaining that Ringo couldn't speak any German to him, in his extensive knowledge Ringo was able to pick out the word 'Engländer', but he didn't seem too interested in Ringo at all. He merely offered him a tube of the pills, which he declined at first and lead to a confused reaction from Stefan, partly to be polite and partly because he knew John would appreciate it, he accepted them in the end. Stefan then left without much engagement in their conversation and the rest of the band got ready to head out for the night.

"You were right about the weird vibe." Ringo said to Klaus.

"Yeah... I don't know what's wrong with him, but hey - free drugs!" Klaus grinned, demonstrating his point by popping one of the pills into his mouth after he spoke.

"Does he stay until the club closes?" Ringo asked in a quieter voice.

"I don't think so, usually when he comes to see us he seems to go home after. At least, whenever we head out we usually see him." Klaus explained, he was talking a lot faster than a sober person would "Why?"

"Just curious." Ringo said simply, but that wasn't the case.

"Are you gonna come out with us this time?" Klaus had packed away his bass and was currently fiddling with his outfit in the mirror.

Ringo paused for a moment and looked up at Klaus, this was the time to make a decision: he wasn't entirely sure if it was the drugs spiralling his brain into thoughts he wouldn't normally have, but as soon as he recognised Stefan the idea arrived in his mind of following him home. He wasn't entirely sure where this plan concluded, if it would just be a fruitless decision which resulted in merely finding out where he lived. Yet the idea of George, Paul and John being out there somewhere didn't sit right with him, and he knew that he couldn't just simply go home and sleep, he wanted to do something - even if that something ended up being nothing.

"Oh, well... I need to meet my mates back at the hotel, but maybe we'll see you out there?" Ringo's words felt heavy as they left his lips, he was really going to do this.

Klaus didn't seem to notice any change in Ringo's temperament, he instead just listed the array of clubs that they would probably be at that night. Then with manic goodbyes Klaus left with the band, leaving Ringo alone in the room. Now was the time to act, the weight of the knife against his leg was only a reminder of the danger George might be in at this very moment. He waited a few moments before getting up and heading out of the back entrance, he looked around for any sign of Stefan but saw none, all he could see was Klaus running madly down the street with his friends, so he decided to wait. He leaned against the wall of the building, positioning himself so that when the door opened it would somewhat hide him, and lit a cigarette.

Ringo smoked nervously, he kept tapping his foot in anticipation but he wasn't sure if that was the nerves or the drugs. He'd got almost to the end of his cigarette when he started to consider going home and just praying he could get some sleep, but then the door opened. And there Stefan was, exiting the building and barely passing a glance to Ringo as he walked by. He'd gotten to the end of the back alley and went to turn onto the street when Ringo's body began moving seemingly by itself, as he began to follow him.

His mind was a strange mixture of subdued panic and wavering confidence, as he began to question his behaviour yet he didn't stop moving. Luckily at this time of the night the streets of Hamburg were bustling, meaning Ringo could follow Stefan at a relatively close distance without looking too suspicious or even being seen at all. He walked down the main street for a while before turning down a quieter road, which made Ringo a little uneasy but he just figured he'd started this insane quest now he might as well see it to its completion. The side streets were nowhere near as exuberantly lit as the Reeperbahn, which partly panicked Ringo but was also a reassurance that he couldn't be seen as easily.

Stefan never looked behind him, or seemed to even know Ringo was there, for the entire walk. They hadn't been walking for that long before Stefan came to his destination, a somewhat decrepit building which looked like it might once have been a family home, but certainly hadn't been that for a lot time. Some of the lights were on, contrasingly greatly the buildings beside it which Ringo could only assume were abandoned judging by their appearance. Ringo slowed his pace when he noticed Stefan slowing his own, then stopped entirely when he saw Stefan begin to enter the building. He paused for a few moments to collect his thoughts, then cautiously began to walk closer in an attempt to see through one of the windows.

Ringo could clearly hear an array of loud voices coming from inside, but nothing sounded especially hostile. He wondered whether this was the place George had spoke to him about, and wondered further still what he should do now. Ringo could hear his heart beating like it was in his head, and he was almost certain he was breathing louder than usual. He'd pressed himself against the adjacent building in a patch of darkness but couldn't arouse the confidence to move any closer. Then, everything went silent. Eerily silent. Ringo couldn't help holding his breath in fear that the sound would betray him.

Then the muffled sound of conversation began, rather quiet at first but then erupting rather suddenly in an aggressive shout. It sounded familiar, perhaps it was Stefan. The shout in response was even more familiar and it made Ringo go cold - it was George. Shit. Ringo only had a few moments to make a decision, he could either go home now or commit to helping the rest of them; but there wasn't really any choice at all, Ringo couldn't live with himself if he abandoned them all now, especially if things seemed to be getting heated, and if anything awful happened he knew he'd blame himself. In the end he decided that it was better to regret something he did than something he didn't do.

He took a deep breath and grabbed a hold of the knife in his pocket, pulling it out and extending the blade in preparation. What he supposed he was going to really do, he wasn't sure, but he assumed it would be best to at least be armed. The muffled conversation had continued somewhat, and Ringo could pinpoint it to the back of the house and so he began to move carefully to get a potential view of what was going on. He ducked below the windows of the buildings as he went, not wanting to know what would happen if he was seen, and got to the back of the building which opened out into a small alleyway which ran along the bottom of all the houses. There were windows beside the back door which allowed Ringo to at last catch a glimpse of the situation.

He could see Stefan somewhat in a room that must've once been a kitchen, surrounded by a few other men who were all positioned to face the other side of the room. By moving himself, Ringo could see that George, Paul and John stood on the other side although he couldn't see their faces, only their clothes. The conversation seemed tense, it was certainly passed pleasantries, but it wasn't massively worrying to Ringo just yet. He retreated to a space which wasn't particularly lit, and remained there while he tried to suss out what to do next. From where he stood he could see that the back door was unlocked, it was left half-closed - Ringo wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not, as it meant this group wasn't being particularly calculated or that they didn't have a fear that the boys would be able to escape, should they have to. It at least let Ringo know that he had some way to get into the building, or a potential avenue of escape which he could highlight to them.

Just as Ringo began to calm himself, deciding that he wasn't going to intervene unless it was absolutely necessary, things began to heat up again. Stefan began to shout, but received no response - at least not one Ringo could hear - which led to him laughing. Then everything seemed to happen at once: Stefan nodded his head to the men beside him who pounced on the three of them without issue, and suddenly the back door was being sprung open. Ringo witnessed the three of them being carried out into the alley, by the men with Stefan following behind with a gun in his hand. Ringo felt like a spectator of his own life, like he wasn't present in the situation at all. But he had to very quickly remind himself that he was very much present and that this was happening. He was still hidden in darkness somewhat by keeping close to the adjacent building, and he decided to make use of that advantage.

George, Paul and John were all forced down onto the hard ground by their respective captors, lying flat with their faces against the rough floor, facing away from Stefan who Ringo could finally hear speak.

"It's only business boys, I'm sure you understand. Things are changing, and there isn't room for people like you anymore." He had a thick accent.

Ringo felt the adrenaline rushing through his body as he swore at that moment to not allow Stefan to say another word. As Stefan chuckled once again to himself, beginning to move his hand to aim the gun at Paul, who was struggling desperately against the grip of the man above him, Ringo moved. It didn't feel like his own body doing this, but then he was behind Stefan easily and so was his knife. When Ringo had first been given the weapon, he'd worried he wouldn't know how to use it when the time came, but he learned very quickly that it didn't matter. He stabbed into Stefan's back in a swift motion, then another and another; he wasn't going to take any chances. In the commotion, Stefan cried out in pain and shot his gun in an instinctual act of self-defence, but it just shot out into the air.

Everything seemed to move slowly from this point, yet also instantaneously, as Stefan fell to the ground shrieking in pain and the other men faltered somewhat in surprise as Ringo's presence was altertingly made known. That was the only opportunity they needed, as George acted without a second to think, jerking his body upwards and escaping from the larger man's grip for a moment. The moment allowed him to grab his own knife from his pocket and stab it upwards as best he could. Ringo felt his vision blurring somewhat, only realising now that tears had been welling up in his eyes. George managed to lodge his knife in the man's throat, and the sight was haunting as blood began to spurt aggressively down onto him. John hadn't been as lucky, his attempted stab resulting in his arm being bent back brutally, he yelled out in pain, but he was still able to get out of his vulnerable position as panic quickly set in amongst them all. The man who had been restraining Paul abandoned his task altogether and made a dash for the gun that Stefan had dropped in his collapse.

A shot rang out, and Ringo felt the haze of the situation overwhelming him entirely as he only seemed to see frames of what was happening: Paul had stabbed John's attacker easily with his sudden release, then turned to the third man and froze for a second. George shoved Ringo sideways, making Ringo realise that the man had been looking at him defiantly. He then collapsed onto the floor, and he couldn't figure out exactly why he'd been shoved or why he'd been so easy to knock over like that. The man with the gun shouted out loudly, but his words were cut off by John launching his knife into his chest, and he too fell to the ground. That was when Ringo felt it. A sharp, deep pain in his stomach; had he landed on something when he fell? He moved his hand, which he realised he strangely didn't feel in control of, onto something warm and wet. Blood.

Not just blood, but his blood. The last thing he processed was the sight of George, wide eyed and shouting something which Ringo couldn't quite make out despite how close he was.

And then...

Nothing.

[mcrvellouslystcrk]

Florida

Pairing: Paul McCartney x Lennon!Reader

Rating: T

Words: 1910

Warnings: Trash writing and very superficial rereading, all my apologies dear readers

Author’s Note: I recommend reading this while listening to early Beatles and other summery 60s tunes. Also I’m kinda tired of fics where John is the overprotective older brother and wanted to explore another facet of his (fictitious) personality... Enjoy!

“Y/N! Oi, Y/N!”

 Carefully lowering your book, you looked at the four soaking wet boys, jumping around in the swimming pool like children.

 “What?”

 “Come replace Ringo, he doesn’t wanna play any more!”

 You raised your eyebrows mockingly and closed the novel.

 “So you only call me when others can’t fulfil your desires?”

 A concert of protestations (‘oh come on Y/N, you know we love you’) answered your questions and you chuckled. John said something to the others and quickly got out of the pool.

 “Don’t be stupid!” he half whispered, sitting next to you on the sunbed. “You can show off your skills… and whatever you have under this dress to Paul.”

 You punched him in the stomach furiously, checking if someone had heard him. Luckily, the other three were discussing about some party they went to, leaving you a little bit of privacy.

 “Shut it, John. This will never be known. Ever.”

 Your brother rolled his eyes and pushed your legs to have more space.

 “I thought you were the brightest in the family, Y/N, but apparently not. The man’s head over heels for you for a long time now, it’s pathetic.”

 “Yeah, about that, I don’t believe you. You already tricked me back in fifth grade with Dave, remember? I’m not falling in your daft pranks again.”

 He groaned and shook you by the shoulders, his impatience becoming more visible by the minute.

 “Oh my god, Y/N, when will you stop being so stubborn and just accept the fucking truth! He loves you, you love him, it’s like one of our songs! Can’t believe I’m saying that, but why can’t you just make a damn move and stop looking like a lost puppy?”

 You froze, confused.

 “Admitting it was true… It doesn’t bother you? Your best friend and your sister?”

 “To be honest? At first it kinda did, but after almost six years of this, I’m exhausted. And I know Paul’s a pretty good guy. I swear, if you don’t make a move, I will, and you’ll find yourselves locked in a cupboard or something.”

 “And may I know why you didn’t address this inspiring speech to your buddy?”

 “He won’t listen. Y/N, he so in love he thinks you’re too good for him, which, between us, is complete shit, no offen-”

 He cackled as you smacked him again, this time more gently. You considered his words for a moment. The Florida sun shined above your heads, glittering on the limpid water of the pool and on Paul’s skin. Yeah, you could not help it; you had been sneaking peaks above your book for a while now, and it was worth it. The way he was punching the ball with an unusual precision, arching his tanned back to protect his teammate, the manner in which he laughed when John would jump in the most random places because he refused to wear his glasses and had no idea what was going on… He was perfect. You did not believe something would actually happen with him, but it was worth a try, was it not?

 “Okay, whatever, you win. But first, let’s play.”

 You got up and took off your beach dress in a matter of seconds, throwing it on your brother before diving in the pool. The water was at just the right temperature, and you swam to the surface with a smile brightening your features.

 “That’s my girl!” cheered John.

 Spotting George on your left, you swam to him.

 “Harrison, I hope you’re good!”

 “Oh, I’m okay. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

 “Well, I’m better than John… How’s Pattie?”

 From the other side of the fillet, Paul was watching you converse with George, trying to hide his blush. Seeing you in your white bikini made him all flustered, and your confidence when you plunged in the water dazzled him. Back in England, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever had the chance to meet. Under the Miami sun, you were looking so radiant that he started to wonder if you were surreal.

 “Hey, I know you’re in love and I wish you all the best, but I’d really appreciate if you could stop checking out my sister with those eyes, thanks.”

 Turning around, Paul sent a splash of water in John’s direction, earning a mocking snicker in return.

 “Okay, fellas, are we playing or what?” you asked, going to your position.

 Ringo sent the ball in the air and before anyone could move, you jumped and caught it, passing in to George who smashed it to the other side. Not ready for this attack, the other two did not have the time to stop, and Paul turned to you, eyebrows up. Feeling bold after you victory, you winked at him playfully as you hand fived George.

 The game did not last long as George and you won almost every set, though you were suspecting Paul to play purposely bad because John was yelling at him the whole time. The four of you decided to take a break when Ringo told you the food you had ordered had arrived, making George rush to the kitchen. You exited the pool and started drying off with your towel when Paul passed by you.

 “Nice bathing suit,” he observed before proceeding inside the villa.

 Stupefied, you watched him join the others, you heart pounding against your chest. Could it be possible that John’s suggestions were true? No, Paul was flirty with everyone, even the sixty-four-year-old maid who took care of the cleaning.

 Shaking your head, you entered the house too and changed rapidly in the nearest bathroom into another dress, brand new, bright red and much shorter than the first. You ran a hand in your hair and sprayed the spots under your ears with your usual perfume before smiling to your reflection in the mirror. Your brother was right: it was no use to continue like that, and you were soon going to find out what Paul was actually thinking of you.

 You walked in the kitchen and spotted your target helping himself from the foods he wanted. Taking a seat next to him, you brushed his hand as you moved yours to reach the bottle of sparkling water at his right, lingering against his skin a few seconds more than what you would normally do, and casually leaned into him. He stopped right there, his fork immobilized in mid-air, to glance at you, to which you boldly responded with a dazzling smile. Returning to your personal space, you took a deep breath. Were you about to destroy one of the friendships that you cherished the most just to talk about your feelings? Possibly.

 “Hey Y/N, when will we have the honour to see all the pictures you took?”

 John’s voice broke your train of thoughts. You squinted your eyes at him, perfectly knowing what he was doing: a photographer’s inspiration was things, sceneries…or, in this case, people he or she loved. 

 “Oh… I don’t think that’s a good idea, they’re just amateur stuff.”

 “C’mon, we won’t judge, promise!”

 Frowning, you were about to refuse when you crossed Paul’s hazel gaze again. You did not know how he did it, but you instantly melted in front of his doe eyes, especially when they were looking at you like that. Damn, that man sure knew how to make a girl feel special.

 “Okay. But don’t you dare mess them up with a sauce or something. And don’t steal stuff from my plate. Yes, that also goes for you Geo.”

 Running to your bedroom, you grabbed the pack of photographs and returned to the kitchen. John put his hand out to take them but you pushed it away, handing them to Ringo instead. The other three rushed behind him, curious as hell. Leaning in as well, you were now able to see them upside down as the boys checked them out.

 George stealing a biscuit from Ringo’s plate at breakfast, John with his old Buddy Holly glasses, offering his most mischievous grin to the camera, the boys playing with a ball or chilling on their sunbeds… The list goes on.

 You moved a little, getting slightly uncomfortable, as you knew what was to come. Ringo moved to the next shots: Paul, sitting on the sofa next to the window, laughing at something John had said. Paul, his toothbrush in hand, making a face at the camera. Paul playing the guitar. Paul trying to cook your favourite dessert, covered in flour. Paul next to the record player, a dozen LPs in his arms. Paul, half-asleep in front of the television. Paul, Paul, and Paul again and again…

 Suddenly silent, the boys looked at you with some sort of hesitation. You motioned to John to leave with a small movement of the chin; you two had developed a multitude of body signs when you were living with Aunt Mimi. For once, he listened to you and took George and Ringo by the collars of their shirts.

 “Come on, children, mommy and daddy need to talk.”

 Hearing them close the door behind them, you finally turned your attention to the one left. Leaning against the counter, he was observing you. Conscious of your reddened cheeks, you coughed a little.

 “Paul, I-”

 “Y/N, I love you.”

 “Wh- What?”

 He walked around the table and sat on his chair, an uncertain smile dancing on his lips.

 “I have loved you for a very, very long time now. God, you were – you are – so incredible. How could I not love you? And I never thought anything would be possible between us, but after seeing these, I’m hoping… I’m finally able to hope.”

 You stared at him for a moment, not quite believing what was happening. So, after all this time, John was right? You had truly wasted so many years of what could have been the most wonderful relationship of your life because of your stubbornness and inexistent self-esteem.  

 …How could you have been so blind?

 “Darling, please say something.”

 Shaking off all the confusion and replays of the past few years in your head, you chuckled at the sight of him. He was waiting, all flustered, his fingers unconsciously tapping the wooden table.

 “Paul, believe me, the feeling is mutual. I was actually going to confess myself some time soon but you’ve beat me to it…and I’m glad you did.”

 His smile grew wider and he moved closer, his eyes sparkling with a new light. You gently cupped his face in your hands, softly rubbing your thumb across his cheekbone.

 Oh god, that was it.

 His lips were soft, and had caught yours with an incredible dexterity. Tilting your head, you slowly ran your fingers through his chest to link your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Every inch of your bodies was connected, making you wish for more. You broke off the kiss to put your legs around his waist, to which he quickly obliged with a smug grin, peppering occasional butterfly kisses on you neck. You were about to dive into another embrace when the door suddenly opened, startling you both.

 “C’mon fellas, I think it’s safe now… Oh no – Jesus Y/N – abort mission, abort!”

 “But I need to finish my pastrami!”

 “Well I’m gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life after seeing my baby sister make out so I think your pastrami will have to wait.”

[myukulelegentlyweeps]

Nowhere Man

Pairing : George Harrison x female reader

Plot : Geo is sick of the Let It Be sessions so he takes the day off and meets you and has a flippin epiphany :)

Author’s note : Okay so I got sort of carried away, I admit it. But today June 13th is apparently George Harrison appreciation day here on tumblr, so if there is a day to post a 2000 word george fic, it’s today.

Warnings : (very little) cussing, I guess? Also if you don’t believe in the universe and all that metaphysical stuff and it bothers you to read about it, I don’t recommend you read this.

The Beatles were not working anymore. They weren’t functioning, everyone could see it, Let It Be would be one of the band’s last gasps for air. It was a shame, but it was the truth and George wished they, well, particularly Paul, would stop trying to force an album where there was only friction and anger. And a film? Really? No, it wasn’t right.

Harrison had come into the studio early that morning. Comfortably seated in one of the lounge’s sofas, he was trying to unwind before his bandmates arrived, for in the previous few days he had noticed he tensed up the instant he walked through the door of his workplace, automatically, unwillingly. He didn’t like the version of himself he was becoming, grumpy, always snapping at people - so he was trying to change it.

He took a deep breath in and closed his eyes, trying to find the peace within him. He focused on his neck and shoulders, letting them relax like they did when he roamed his garden. In his garden there were no bossy McCartneys, no big-headed Lennons, no Ringos trying to diffuse the tension in vain ; there were only flowers, trees, prosperity and growth. I’m not growing as a musician here anymore, he thought as he opened his eyes again to two voices breaking the silence.

“Wha’re we doin’ today Paul?”

“Dunno. Think John wants to show me a couple of new songs.”

Of course he did. And he probably wants Yoko to sing on the record too, how about that. When they don’t give one damned song to Ringo. George rose from his seat to face Paul, who was already starting his obsessive tuning of every single instrument :

“Say Paul, if John only wants to show you the songs, ye won’t need me, will you?”, he spoke calmly but firmly. The bassist looked up from the guitar he had seized with slight anguish painted on his features. “Of course we need you, Geo-”, he began, but he appeared to give it thought and the end of his sentence took a different tone : “but if you really need the day off, yeah, I...I guess you can go.” A nod was the only answer he received, short and straightforward. Exit George.

As soon as he was outside, he felt better. The morning air was soothingly fresh, and the blue sky still had a few yellowish tinges reminiscing from sunrise. He looked to his car and thought about driving home, but ultimately decided against it : he wanted to walk around, to wander in the city, he had not done so in such a long time... Luckily he had a hat with him that day, which would allow him to partially cover his face and avoid getting recognised by “overly enthusiastic” fans. Normally he would not mind signing autographs, but in that particular instance he was not in the mood.

His stroll started at a fast and steady pace, his first priority being to leave Abbey Road studios far behind ; he later allowed himself to slow down, thinking his irritation finally gone as he reached a different looking area of London. He did not wish to know where he was exactly, in fact, he made it his goal to get lost on purpose as he savoured each step he took, trying his best to not control the decisions his intuition and feet made for him at every turn. Left or right, right or left, or continuing straight, none of it mattered. He was going nowhere and it felt brilliant.

It was as though he was being guided by a light beyond him. The energy flowed effortlessly through the streets, unlike in the studio where it always seemed to be clogged. Here I am, thinking of the studio again. He sighed and brought his focus back to his walk with no destination. Slowly but surely, a small smile made its way to his lips as he noticed a child’s toy forgotten on a bench, a chalk drawing on the sidewalk, a cloud with a specific shape. Small pieces of a grand puzzle coming together. Eventually he stumbled upon Hyde Park. A garden or a forest? He didn’t know, then again the question was unimportant and required no definitive answer.

“He’s a real nowhere man, sitting in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans for nobody…” Bloody hell, the Beatles follow ye everywhere, don’t they. George thought he would become angry again, but before he could, he realised how fitting the song was to the situation. Wasn’t he the nowhere man, walking wherever his legs led him? He let out a soft chuckle and tried to find where the music was coming from. There was a young woman strumming an acoustic guitar, her case in front of her collecting a miserable amount of coins. There you are.

She was wearing a red flowery dress and he thought she, not unlike her voice, was quite beautiful, with her smiling (Y/E/C) eyes and (Y/H/C) hair moving slightly with the wind. Through the vocals he could hear she truly experienced the song, and sang from the depths of her guts. He quite enjoyed how it sounded. “Nowhere man don't worry, take your time, don't hurry, leave it all 'til somebody else lends you a hand…” He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and extracted a twenty pound note which he placed in the guitar case, the woman’s eyes visibly widening at the generous contribution. He asked himself wether or not he should leave, but decided to stay a little longer, at least until the end of the song. She was...magnetic. He felt drawn to her, as though the universe had nudged him in her direction for a reason.

Your P.O.V

“Thank you very much”, you said after the last strum, glancing at the small group of people who had stopped to listen. You were rather proud of your performance, too, and you had made more money than expected that morning - especially since there was a twenty pound note in your earnings, which was a first. Very few people are willing to give that amount of money to a street musician ; and the mystery man who had was still standing there, merely three steps away, looking at you and probably thinking he was well hidden behind his Panama hat and dark wavy hair. From what you could make out of his features you deduced he was about your age, maybe a bit older, though that impression could have just been due to the moustache which he wore, you had to admit it, quite well.

When you realised he was none other than George Harrison, you wondered why it had taken you so long to figure it out. His face had been on every newspaper since 1964, and you were not going to pretend you did not love the Beatles to the point of obsessively playing their records and eventually wearing them out. Nevertheless, he did not look like he wanted to be recognised, and you decided to respect that. The best way to fight the urge to go talk to my favourite Beatle, you concluded, is to continue playing. And so you did. You started strumming the first chords to I Need You, in an intended wink to his person.  

I Need You ended, you moved on to another song, and another...Until your watch marked eleven a.m. and you started packing up, thinking about the rest of your day and unsure what to do with it. It was a Monday, which meant you didn’t have to go into work (the restaurant was closed on Mondays), but you didn’t want to go home just yet. 

“Can I buy you a drink, miss?”, a very familiar voice asked, catching you off guard. You let out a giggle and took the twenty pound note to show it to him, “I think you’ve already bought me at least fifteen, sir.” “Can I buy you a sixteenth drink then?”, he insisted with a grin. You laughed again ; how could you possibly say no? He was rich after all, you couldn’t feel guilty for making him spend fifty cents on a cup of tea. The next thing you knew, the both of you were sitting at the table of a coffee shop, sipping a warm drink and chatting casually.

He told you his name was Arthur and, though you knew it to be a lie, you preferred to let him think you believed him. He wanted to know everything about you, which was ironic to you considering how you knew his life to be much more exciting and interesting than yours. You answered his every question with lightheartedness, intrigued by his curiosity toward you, and it slowly became obvious that you two shared some sort of special connection you could not rationally explain : you were comfortable with each other suprisingly fast, your sense of humor matched his, and every time your eyes met they would linger, as though you were poking into each other’s souls, making shivers run down your spine.

After the coffee shop, you strolled around Hyde Park side by side for two hours, completely losing track of time in the process. You told him about your family, your studies, even some childhood memories, and he talked about the Beatles, using code names, of course. John’s made up name was Eric, Paul was Fred, Ringo was Michael and of course, he was George, hum, Arthur. You were amazed at how straight he kept his story, though sometimes he would stumble on his bandmate’s brand new names ; by that point you figured he knew you knew he was George Harrison, but he preferred sticking with the parallel universe he had created. He told you about all the stress he had been undergoing during the Let It Be sessions, and you listened closely, overtaken by the feeling of deep empathy. He striked you as a very gentle person, but when he talked about the album you noticed his eyebrows furrow and his tone harden.

Around what you think was midday, you started getting hungry. You sat in the grass and ate store bought sandwiches together, the both of you agreeing they were not the best you had ever tasted. After that, you simply lay in silence, enjoying each other’s company.

“I don’t think they realise how talented and important you are.”

“Who?”

“Joh- I mean, Eric and Fred. They were there first, became the leaders and now they’re blind to the possibility of deflating their massive ego to make room for Ring- Michael and you.”

“...Yer probably right. But there’s not much I can do about it, is there?”

You shook your head.

“Start a project of your own. Didn’t you say Eric recorded something with his girlfriend?”

“Yeah. It’s not bad, what he does, it’s just...He didn’t ask us for permission or anythin’. He just, well, did it.”

“Then do the same! I’m sure you’ve got enough songs of your own to record at the very least a neat EP.”

“Maybe.”, he said as he stood up, seemingly reflecting upon your advice while he tried to straighten the fabric of his wrinkled shirt, to no avail. “(Y/N)...if it were up to me I would stay here and talk to you until we ran out of things to say, but I think I might have to get going now.” You laughed through an undeniable disappointment you attempted to hide : “Oh, of course, please do”. The perspective of having to part ways with him was anything but pleasant. He gathered his belongings, the Panama, his sunglasses ; next, he held his arms out, inviting you into a hug. You happily obliged. You engaged into a long and warm embrace, followed by  prolonged eye contact, and for the hundredth time that day, you experienced the magical tingling sensation through your entire body.

“Thank you for today, (Y/N). I am so grateful to have met you, you really are something special. I...I would like to see you again, if-” He stopped mid-sentence as you handed him a piece of paper with your telephone number hastily scribbled on it. He gave you the most immense smile and proceeded to slowly walk away, looking back a couple of times to make sure you were indeed real.

I met an angel today.

[theterribleblueglove]

Paul is Dead and Loving It

I just posted this to TV Tropes, and I’m copy-pasting it here. I had entirely too much fun with this “theory.” 

Paul McCartney did die in a car crash in 1966, but he was not replaced. He returned shortly after his death, as a vampire. 

The clues sprinkled throughout the albums were not trying to tell fans that Paul was dead and gone; but that Paul was dead...and still an active member of the band.

The subtle differences in Paul's appearance after the crash can be explained by his vampiric transformation. Also, note that Paul was the "pretty" Beatle, and had some influence over women, a la Dracula or Edward Cullen. While it's true he had these traits before his death, they increased afterwards, hence his portrayal in "Yellow Submarine." 

His later "aging" has two possible explanations:

He is literally a vegetarian vampire, taking care not to kill any living being he sucks blood from. Because he isn't drinking quite as much blood as a vampire ought, and also spends far more time in the sun than his undead doctors recommend (note that the sun does not actually kill vampires in the original lore, but only weakens them) has taken a toll on Paul, causing him to appear to be "aging" like a living person.

He uses vampiric magic to make himself appear to have aged, but really looks the same way he did in 1966.

Now, for the clues. 

Naturally, after his death, Paul feared his mates wouldn't want anything more to do with him; after all, how could an undead blood-sucking monster ever be welcome among the icons of peace, love and sunshine? But the other Beatles would not stop supporting their friend just because of his new condition. And they sprinkled this message throughout their albums...

Firstly, the clues in the album covers: 

While it's true that there may be small background images depicting Paul apart from the rest of the group, the central images all show the "dead" Paul enclosed by the others, signifying that he is very much still part of the group.In "Abbey Road," the "funeral" procession has the "corpse" walking along with all the "living" members, rather than being carried by them. He's also holding a cigarette. The completely-dead generally don't continue activities like smoking, but an un-dead person could. He's holding it in the "wrong" hand for the same reason he is out of step with the others; he's still living live like they are, but from the "other side" so to speak.

In "Abbey Road," the "funeral" procession has the "corpse" walking along with all the "living" members, rather than being carried by them. He's also holding a cigarette. The completely-dead generally don't continue activities like smoking, but an un-dead person could. He's holding it in the "wrong" hand for the same reason he is out of step with the others; he's still living live like they are, but from the "other side" so to speak.

The line of cars that runs "through" Paul's head does signify the crash that killed him...and how he walked away from death relatively fine.

The background image of one man standing on the opposite side of the road from three others signifies that yes, Paul and his mates are on "opposite sides" of the road between life and death. But the main four are all crossing that road together. Interestingly, they're all walking towards the side where the "dead" figure is standing on. One might argue that this is part of the "funeral procession," that the band is just walking their friend "home" just to drop him off in his grave; but if that were the case, should't Paul be in front? Answer: it's not a "funeral" at all. It's just Paul's mates sticking by him, even when he has to make some unpleasant stops at Purgatory or the graveyard.

On the "Yesterday and Today" cover, Paul's in a "coffin," but the other boys aren't posed as if they're saying goodbye to him. They're surrounding him, in casual stationary poses, as if they have no intention of going anywhere. The fact that the "coffin's" door is wide opened represents Paul is still interacting with the living.

"Sergent Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" is packed with death imagery on its cover, but once again, the main four are shown with Paul enclosed by the others. He's wearing an icy blue band uniform, while the others are in "warm" colors, to signify his icy new body temperature; but he is still a part of the band.

The hidden word "Lies" refers to Paul having to lie about his nature, as it would be very dangerous for him if the public knew he was a vampire. (Bear in mind that this was in the 1960s, back when vampires were still "bad guys" in mainstream literature and movies.)

...So, whether he's having a kip in his coffin, strolling barefoot across a scorching blacktop that doesn't affect him, or just being his icy-blue room temperature on a hot summer's day, he is still an active and loved member of the group.

Now for the backmasking...

In "I'm So Tired" played backwards, Lennon is saying "Paul's a dead man." But the next line is not "Miss him, miss him." It's actually "It's him! It's him." As in, Paul's dead, but it's still him. It's not an impostor. And you're not a monster, Paul. We don't care that you now sprout pointy teeth at night; you're still our Paul.

"Turn me on, Dead Man" sounds like a Beatle addressing a friend at a party, just asking casually for a light.

"I buried Paul" is the only one that throws a wrench in this whole theory, as vampires generally aren't buried after climbing into their coffins. But when have the Beatles ever done what was normal? It would be just like John, George and Ringo to bury their vampiric mate's coffin during one of his kips, either as a prank, or because they were extremely high and just thought it was the proper thing to do at the time.

The girl in the blue dress 

Legend has it that during his fatal accident, Paul was accompanied by a fangirl in a blue dress. After the crash, she ran from the car, either to get help, or just to avoid getting in trouble. 

The truth? 

She is the vampire that turned Paul. 

[thecoleopterawithana]

When we first started it was all singles and we were always trying to write singles. That’s why you get lots of these 2 minute 30 seconds songs; they all came out the same length. ‘Hold Me Tight’ was a failed attempt at a single which then became an acceptable album filler.              The thing about the Beatles is it wasn’t vulgar. We were actually very good. It was like being in an art group, it was being in an association with a few artistic friends. That was the kind of underlying feeling we had after having been in Hamburg. I remember we had a joke with the sax player from another band. He knocked on the door and I grabbed a volume of Yevtushenko’s poetry and started quoting from it and the guys all sat around, like really into it, like Beat poets. And the sax player crept in, 'Oh, sorry.’ He put his sax back in his case and crept back out again. And we howled. But this kind of cheek gave us a feeling of being different from the pack.              We didn’t particularly like the girl adoration, although it was marvellous if you wanted a date. The main thing for us, first of all, was just doing our craft. We were genuinely trying to be artists; we’d actually comment on it, 'Hey, there’s a guy in the front row who’s really clocking all your chords!’ If we played a good bit, a new technique or an innovative riff, we saw that they noticed; the guys were watching our guitars and our hands, not our legs and willies. That was what we liked.              There was always an underlying ambition to go in a slightly artistic direction, whereas a lot of our fellow groups didn’t have that. This is why we didn’t do 'How Do You Do It’ when George Martin suggested it. 'It’s a number one!’ he said, and God knows we needed a number one. We said, 'No, no! No thanks!’ And we wouldn’t go to America till we had a number-one record either, and again, God knows we wanted exposure, we wanted an American tour. In a strange way we were very conscious of where we were heading whilst having no map whatsoever. We just had a feeling that 'God, this John Lennon guy is pretty special and Paul McCartney’s not too bad either. And fucking hell, George is a little bit of a head. And Jesus Christ, Ringo’s a dude!’ And we all knew, boy, these four qualify for something, there was no dead weight at all. It annoys me when people discount some of us; and obviously the easiest one to discount is Ringo - 'Well, he just hit some skins at the back of it all, didn’t he?’ George in one book is described 'standing around with his plectrum in his hand waiting for a solo’. Well, you know, 'Too easy, love. Too cheap a shot. You check George out some time and you’ll find a little more there than that.

Paul McCartney on what differentiated the Beatles from other groups and made them succeed. In Many Years From Now (1997), by Barry Miles.

[beautifulhigh]

I am in two minds about the ringsy reunion. I’m happy that my otp is together and the reunion scene was so good because they have amazing chemistry and it’s good that Easy realised that he loves Ringo as he is and Ringo doesn’t have to change because it’d be cruel to have a bf who wants a better version of one (although in Ringo’s case being less of a dumbass would be great). Besides they both are happier together and people should do things that make them happy. BUT I wouldn’t have minded a 1/2

2/2 longer break-up so that Ringo would have suffered more. I found Ringo selling Easy and lying to him horrible and I think that Ringo got off lightly. I would have wanted to see him apologise more (he says he did it a thousand times but he did it like twice), do something concrete to show that he regrets it and he won’t do it again. Basically I think that Ringo’s offense deserved a bigger punishment.

I know what you mean: two weeks of a breakup for what he did?  But this time it wasn’t about what Ringo did (not really) but it’s about who he is.  This time it was different and so the breakup was always going to be the time frame between Easy finding out what Ringo did and his subsequent realisation.

So under the cut we go.

So if you haven’t already read this meta about why Ringo agreed to the deal with Spohn then I suggest you do since I’m using that as my springboard here.

Much was made during relationship 2.0 about Ringo changing, about him being a better man, about how being with Easy turned him into something resembling an actual human being.  And Ringo did change - but not because of Easy, for him.  Because he wanted to be what Easy deserves.  He’s still Ringo though.  He still helped trap someone in the lift and he still hacked the guy complaining about Stinker and he still changed his certificate result to help his job search.  Ringo isn’t any kind of angel because if he was then he wouldn’t be Ringo anymore.

We all change and we all grow and we all do that for at least one of two reasons: because it serves a purpose, and/or because we are influenced by someone else.  Ringo was most certainly influenced by Easy in his change, the purpose then came about because he was in love and happy.  Maintaining that change meant maintaining the relationship so we had two influences at play to keep Ringo in Good Guy™ territory.

Things are good, settled, then along comes Spohn and Ringo’s sense of self when it comes to his work and his career and the image he has of himself is threatened.  The Good Guy™ Ringo isn’t going to cut it here so he needs to serve a new purpose - get the deal, keep his job, keep his relationship.  That’s why he shifts the deal to “a date, try your luck” than a full on “here’s a six pack and some lube, have at it”.

Easy finds out, is rightfully pissed, and relationship 2.0 comes to an end.

We aren’t in relationship 3.0 right now, this is 2.1.

It wasn’t that Easy thought that Ringo had stopped loving him or didn’t care about him, he has always known that Ringo loves him more than anything else.  It was the fact that Easy felt like a commodity, like something that could be used instead of protected and cherished.  He heard Ringo’s own voice on that recording saying that it was a date that was promised, not a night.  He has always known that Ringo wasn’t “selling” him on that.  But Ringo didn’t outright tell Spohn (as far as Easy knows) to basically do one because I’m not letting you near my boyfriend.

To Easy it felt like a return to the Old Ringo, the one who didn’t care about anything or anyone other than himself.

Easy is the one to avoid Ringo this time.  He keeps his distance and Ringo does not try to win him over.  He’s not making grand gestures or big pleas like he did after relationship 1.0.  He’s not pleading his case or doing anything but accepting Easy’s decision to end things.  Ringo knows that Easy is avoiding him and it’s only in the field when they are all but forced into talking that he calls Easy out on it.  Ringo is actually approaching this break up like an adult: if this is what you want then I respect that.

This time it wasn’t about Ringo and his approach to Easy, it was actually about Easy and his approach to Ringo.  Relationship 1.0: Ringo lies and manipulates and is basically shit.  He needs to change and does.  Relationship 2.0 then has Easy assuming his boyfriend is a certified Good Guy™ now and he can do no wrong unless it’s for the right reasons (cf: lift stalling and hacking).

That’s just as unhealthy as lying and manipulating when it comes to a relationship.

Let me be clear about one thing first - I do not think in any way that this was Easy’s fault.  We’re talking about the reunion here and this time it had to come from Easy’s choices, not Ringo’s.

At the field Ringo calls Easy out on behaving like a kid (true) and that he’s not chasing him or following him (true) and says that he hates the idea of Easy being with anyone else (true) - so implied layer of “as if I would sell you” going on there.  When they are in each other’s space it’s Ringo who moves in for the kiss but I swear I’ve had Year 9 lessons move faster than that.  Easy had every opportunity to stop that kiss and he didn’t.  He wanted it as much as Ringo which is why when Ringo says he loves Easy (true) he says that Easy loves him too (true).

Love isn’t all you need but it’s a good start.

Easy says he’s into Ringo but he hates him and they’re not mutually exclusive concepts.  You can very much hate the person you’re in love with.  The trick is to get past the hate and the hurt and back to the love part.  But that’s a choice you have to make.

The banter outside the Turnhalle is so them and it’s a reminder to Easy that what they had is still there - if he wants it.  Tobias sees it, calls him out on it, and when Ringo comes over with the bite cream Easy finally admits what adults in long term relationships already know:

People grow and change but they don’t do a 180 overnight

You can love someone and hate them at the same time

Relationships are about working through the bad stuff because you know the good stuff makes it worthwhile

And so he wants his idiot back and then they’re back together.

This breakup wasn’t about Ringo coming good or being a better person.  This one was about Easy seeing Ringo for who he is: a morally grey guy trying to do the right thing.  Y’know.  Human.  Easy is finally starting to accept the dodgy and awful parts of Ringo and he’s not stamping his feet and saying he needs to change or eradicate every last part of them before he will share his bed again.  Easy isn’t telling Ringo that things need to be different now.

This breakup was only going to last as long as it took for Easy to decide whether he could accept those parts of Ringo.  Whether he was going to decide to focus on how much he loves him, wants him, enjoys the life they have together.  When you love someone in that “spend forever with them” kind of way then you love all parts of them.  My mum has a temper and a short fuse.  My dad doesn’t always consider others in the space he’s in (it was never my stuff all over the dining room table five minutes before dinner).  My brother has the ability to not see a mess right in front of him and so do nothing about it.  My sister-in-law has the ability to be vague about wishes and plans, leaving my brother to try and fill in the gaps himself.

But they are all ridiculously in love and so Mum snapping or Dad’s mess or The Brother’s laziness and my Sis-in-Law’s belief in mind reading haven’t sent them all scurrying to the divorce court.

Relationships work when you accept every part of the one you’re with.  Easy is finally accepting this side of Ringo.

“But I think you’ll never change.  You can’t.  Life is just much more fun with you.  Even if it’s exhausting.”

If that’s not the best description of love and acceptance then I don’t know what is.

So yeah.  To me this wasn’t about Ringo and his shitty actions.  This was about Easy accepting that Ringo is going to fuck up.  He isn’t perfect, he will never be perfect.  But fuck if things aren’t better with him.  We’re in relationship 2.1 - same as before, just with a small update.