#honestly i keep thinking about george harrison for the whole day

[argeriant18]

So . . . weird realization today. ME AND GEORGE HARRISON'S BRAINWASHED ALBUM TURN 20 TODAY

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

The Couple Next Door IX (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part Eight Here

A/N: Surprise! I’m briefly back from a year-long Hiatus and I have one chapter for TCND, one for ATU AND a George Harrison one-shot I’m just gonna drop and then probably disappear again for another few months. I’m also finding it even more difficult to write for Roger seeing as I’ve kinda been listening to nothing but The Beatles for the last fifteen months and I really only hear Queen at work, so that’s gotta change. But I am very sorry about the LONG wait. I really do appreciate you guys, and I think you’ve all waited quite long enough to find out what happens next...

Summary: Roger and Y/N spend the morning taking care of Bobby; they talk a little more about the future and come to the conclusion they both want the same thing.

(Let your imagination run free, bc this can be either Canon or Borhap!Roger)

WARNINGS: Swearing is probably a given at this point, self-doubt, mentions/ suggestions of sex (advise you to avoid if you’re under 18), and I usually revise when I’m stoned so there’s probably some typos in here too, sorry.

Rated T for Teen-- (I feel like a video game rating smh)

Bobby was crying again.

Granted, it was about seven in the morning, and he did sleep for the rest of the night.

Roger was the last of the both of you to wake up; not because of the crying-- he didn't even hear the crying-- but he was wrapped up in the blankets with you, and you were trying to remove yourself from his grasp.

"Don't leave," Roger grumbled as he pulled you tightly against his chest, eyes remaining closed as you whispered back to him.

"But I have to go. Baby's cryin'."

Roger loosened his grip on you, much to his dismay, and you slipped from his embrace, leaving him cold, and alone.

"Come back, Baby..." He really hoped his gravelly plea would entice you to return from the nursery after tending to Bobby, and although you were probably against having sex in your friends' bed, he figured there was no harm in testing the waters.

"That's not how that works when you have a baby, Rog. The day starts now."

Roger groaned in protest, but as he rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands, he revealed to himself that you were no longer in the room, and the baby's cries settled when he heard your voice float down the hall from the nursery room.

Roger, as much as he didn't want to, tossed the comforter off of his body, and after rising to his feet and combing his fingers through his hair, he shuffled out of the bedroom and made a beeline to the stairs.

He was glad he was familiar with John's kitchen; because he was certain you had no idea where anything was, meaning he would be the one preparing breakfast that morning, and the one following it, most likely.

Fuck it, he would (try to) cook you up seven different meals a day if you asked him.

Anything for you.

He put the kettle on, and moved to the pantry in search for John's teabags, yawning lightly as he pulled the door open.

Nothing in the pantry really stuck out to him as being a good breakfast that morning, so Roger ended up migrating to the fridge after retrieving the tea, where his eyes fell on the carton of eggs on the bottom shelf.

He settled on making French Toast for breakfast seeing as he, according to you, made the best French Toast in England.

So he got to work whipping up some eggs and pulling four slices of bread from the bread box on the counter-- but not before he got one of Bobby's bottles out for you, warmed it, and placed it on the kitchen table.

Roger was frying the French Toast in no time, and he hummed gently as he busied himself with focusing on the now whistling kettle, and when the right time to flip the toast would be.

"... I thought you were still in bed," your words were sudden, and it made Roger jump a little. But when he realized it was only you, Bobby in your arms, his mouth contorted into a dopey smile.

"Nah," Roger turned the pan's burner down a little, and after he flipped the French Toast, he set his spatula on the counter, turning to face you.

"I was gonna let you sleep in, since you were so reluctant on waking up," you explained with a yawn. "But here you are awake, and making breakfast before me."

"Well it wouldn't be fair then, would it? Me sleeping in while you've all this work to do?"

"I don't know, would it?"

"I really don't think so, Dove."

He felt pride swell in his chest when pink dusted your cheeks at the sound of your new nickname, and he took this chance to swoon you further by pulling you in gently by the elbows, and he enveloped both you and Bobby in his embrace.

"Beautiful..." Roger's voice was barely a whisper as he touched his lips to your jawline, and you responded with a soft exhale.

"Even when you've just woken up," Roger mumbled against the skin of your neck, lips curling into a smile, "you are the prettiest goddamned thing I've ever laid eyes on."

"Mmm, down, boy," you purred back jokingly, taking a small step back. "Baby still needs to eat."

"Well yours is coming right up," he teased, "and Bobby's is already at the table." Roger pointed to the bottle on the other side of the room before tapping your rear. "Take a seat, and I'll bring your food over."

You didn't have to be told twice. You took a seat at the table, and although Bobby was growing a little agitated, it was short lived when you put the bottle of milk in his possession.

Roger, not five minutes after you sat down, joined you at the table with your French Toast and your mug of tea, made just the way you liked it, of course.

"'S the right tea, yeah?"

You took a quick look at the label hanging from the mug.

"Yep." Your eyes squinted after letting the label fall where the string tied to it would let it. "Y'know, you've been making my tea right for months, you don't have to check to make sure you're right."

"You know I'm always gonna make sure it's to your liking."

"And I love you for it."

"Hopefully for other things too. I'm not just good at being your barista."

"Oh, don't you worry. I'm not overlooking your other good traits," you smiled as you brought your mug to your lips and having the first sip of tea of the day.

As Roger sat down next to you with his own plate of food and mug of tea, he decided to wait on Bobby to finish so he could eat with you.

So, naturally, he took the time to evaluate again what kind of situation he was in.

There was nothing like watching you care for Bobby. Roger had known you for years, and not once in his life did he ever think he would be sitting next to you at breakfast while feeding a baby, whether or not the child was his own, or yours.

The whole scene looked too good to be true, though like the previous night, Roger just drank in the sight of you putting all your love and care into a child at breakfast with him.

How did you think you weren't cut out for being a mother?

This was in your nature.

The domesticity of the situation made Roger a little emotional. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to experiencing a breakfast with a family he'd built, and he spent every passing second filling his mind and heart with the beautiful sight before him.

"Y/n, you would make a wonderful mother." Roger's words left his mouth faster than his brain could register what he'd said.

You looked to Roger from Bobby, cheeks and tips of your ears darkening, and Roger was talking again before he could realize it and catch himself.

"Any man would be so damn lucky to have you. I honestly can't believe you stick around me still."

Your face was feeling real hot, now. Roger's head was still lagging behind his words, and clearly, he wasn't done talking.

"You could be out building a beautiful family right now, but instead you're babysitting with your best friend who you also occasionally sleep with. I just... I don't understand."

It took you a second to respond, but Roger didn't blame you. Honestly, he didn't even know what he would have said if he were asked the same question.

"... Well, I love you, Roger."

Your words were simple, and Roger knew your statement was nothing but platonic, but that didn't stop his heart from pounding against his ribcage.

You'd said those exact three words to him minutes earlier, but the context of the conversations contrasted their meanings.

"But we promised each other at the beginning of all of this that we'd be fine giving up pursuing family life if that means living with one another..."

"... You sound unsure, now."

The atmosphere felt heavy, and it was almost as if Bobby had known making noise wasn't in his best interest. He decided to finish eating at the right time.

"... It's not that I'm unsure. It's just..."

Roger waited patiently for you to answer, but you had noticed Bobby finished his milk, and you took the bottle from him.

You burped him, and placed a pacifier you pulled from your pocket in Bobby's mouth. You must have gotten it from upstairs before you came down.

"Let me," Roger offered his arms out for the baby, and you let him take Bobby. You'd stood up and moved to the sink to wash the bottle.

Meanwhile, Roger, who'd also gotten to his feet, was slowly walking around the kitchen. He was praising Bobby for finishing all his breakfast, insisting he was so proud of him, his smile wide and gaze adoring as he evaluated the child in his arms.

"It's just that. There. The way you're behaving with him," you turn to face Roger, finger pointed at him. "The way you're treating him as your own."

Roger's mouth opened and closed a few times, but after shutting his jaw for the third time, he decided the best thing to do in this situation would be to keep quiet.

"You'd make the most wonderful father, Roger. The way you behave with Bobby, god, the way you behaved with Raymond the other day," you sounded frustrated, and all Roger could do was watch you pace the kitchen, his sheepish face now a deep red.

"It's just that I would want the father of my kids to be just like you. I wouldn't settle for anything less."

Roger opened his mouth again to speak. He felt like his chest was on fire. Your thoughts were becoming painstakingly parallel to his, Roger had noticed. He couldn't get any words out before you started speaking again.

"Like you said last night, this job is giving us a chance to experience what it'd be like to have a family... and maybe I'm upset I did throw the chance to have all of that away."

You looked like you were on the verge of tears, and all Roger could do was watch you and listen to what you had to say.

"Roger, I hope you know you will always have a special place in my heart. You're my family, you have been for the last five years of my life, and there's no doubt about it. But being able to have a child..."

Your hands ghosted over the robe's fabric covering your definitely unpregnant belly. "... I think I want to have children."

"... Y/n I hope you know I feel exactly the same way."

And then everything was clear.

Roger understood where his band was coming from.

Getting married to you would solve all your problems.

He knew what the both of you were thinking in this new moment of silence, but there was absolutely no way Roger was going to fall to one knee and propose to you right now when he wasn't even romantically involved with you.

And he just felt it would be very inappropriate if he took this moment to spontaneously ask you on a romantic date with the intentions of courting you.

"Listen, Y/n," Roger finally built up enough courage to break the silence. Bobby cut him off with a short cry, and Roger immediately started swaying the baby in his arms. Sure enough, Bobby's agitation ceased, and Roger could continue, keeping the movement going.

"Just because we're living together without families now doesn't mean we won't be able to have families, say, five to ten years down the road."

At this point, although it was necessary, Roger didn't really want to mention the discomfort he felt when imagining you falling for someone who wasn't him.

Your eyes were big and sad, lip pouted as you considered Roger's words. "... are you sure?"

The idea of you and him having to move out of the condo Roger risked the both of your love lives for didn't sit well with him.

You'd be gone making sweet love to some lucky asshole who probably didn't deserve to be in your presence, while Roger goes on a bender, gets ahold of some weed and coke, and sleeps with enough girls to distract him from realizing he'd thrown the best thing in his life away-- you.

He didn't want you to think he thought you were selfish. The last thing he needed right now was to feel guilty for making you feel guilty.

So he just nodded. "No house isn't forever anyways." When you didn't respond to his little joke, he sighed.

"Y/n, we're still so young. You don't have to commit yourself to anything like that just yet. Enjoy being able to go out drinking with me every weekend, and sleeping in on our days off. Your chance to start a family will come when the time is right."

You let out a shaky breath. Roger was actually a little surprised with how well you were keeping yourself together.

But his actions put the both of you here, and to see that this conversation nearly reduced you to tears had Roger drowning in guilt, even without the help of mentioning any of his inner conflict to you.

"I just hope you're right." Your voice was broken and your fingers were tangled stressfully in your hair.

"Hey," Roger's voice had gone soft again, his rocking slowing to a halt, and you looked up to find him with an open arm, awaiting your touch.

You slowly unravelled your fingers from your hair, and you gave into the hug not moments later. Roger pulled you to his chest tightly, his free arm occupied by the baby.

"Y'know... I made you French Toast to start the day off good." When you didn't say anything in response, Roger pulled away from you just enough to look you in the face.

He was giving you that same look he did at the Garrison's again; that unreadable gaze he'd achieved with those big blue eyes that seemingly bored holes into your very soul.

His free hand slipped up from your back to your neck, and he leaned in to just touch his lips to the corner of your mouth.

So close, yet so far away.

It wasn't before long that he pulled away from you, but Roger just couldn't keep his eyes off you.

"You come sit down and enjoy your French Toast, Dove. I've got Bobby."

"But--"

"Please?"

Roger knew he'd convinced you as soon as he said that magic word. Though you took a moment to look from the bundle in his arms to the breakfast you really were dying to dig into, you eventually sighed out a gentle "thank you," before taking your seat again at the table.

He came around and kissed the top of your head. "Enjoy, Honey." Roger took a seat next to you, Bobby still in his one arm, and the both of you ate your French Toast in relative silence for the first few seconds.

"... God, you really do make good French Toast, Blondie." Roger was smiling now. At least you were talking again.

"I only improved my cooking skills for you, y'know," he admitted with a mouthful of his food, though he didn't sound ashamed of it.

"And thank God for that. Cooking every other night sure beats cooking every night."

"You can say that again," Roger mumbled before shoving the last of his breakfast into his mouth. You still slowly ate away at your meal, and Roger was making funny faces at Bobby in between taking sips of his tea.

The telephone in the living room started ringing, and you stood up to go get it, but Roger immediately dropped his fork and grabbed your wrist.

"Nuh-uh. I just finished eating. You still have a little bit to go. Take Bobby and I'll get it." You scooped the baby up without another word, smiling when he opened his eyes.

"Can you at least bring back his rattle from his play pen?"

"Can do, Princess," he called over his shoulder as he approached the phone.

"H'lo?"

"Roger?"

"Oh, hey, John!" Roger tucked the phone's handset under his chin, carrying the telephone in his left hand so he could get Bobby's rattle.

"Isn't it a little early to be up?" Roger glanced at the clock, which read that it was quarter after seven.

"Biological clocks. Just wanting to checking in. Is Bobby okay? Has he been any trouble?"

"No, of course not! He's doing fine, John." Roger tucked the rattle in his back pocket when he found it, and returned to the writing desk where the phone was meant to stay.

That was something he loved about you. You always bought him pyjamas with pockets. The concept was cool, and being able to use them was even cooler.

"Y/n's got him in the kitchen right now," he explained, taking the handset again with his now free hand. "We're all just finishing up breakfast, actually."

"Oh good. How is she?" John paused for a second, his voice dropping a little lower. "... How are you guys?"

Roger made sure his voice was a little quiet, as well. "John, this may have been your guys' best idea ever. I don't know why I was against this in the beginning."

"Really?! What's happened already?!" John, everyone would have guessed to be one to avoid certain kinds of gossip, though when it came to Roger's business with you, he liked checking up on that.

"I told her about all that family stuff."

"And?"

"And, well..." Roger set the phone back onto the desk and scratched the back of his neck. "... She may or may not be having the same problem," he mumbled.

"So... so you both want a family?" John tried clarifying.

"Yes."

"Then why are you two not together?!" Roger slipped away around the corner into the main hall with just the receiver so he was a little further away from the kitchen. He didn't want you hearing their conversation, or John through the receiver.

"Well I'm not asking her here!"

"Then where? And when?"

Roger knew John was just getting excited, and his questions honestly had Roger brainstorming every possibility when it came to asking you.

"... I don't know, yet," Roger said after a while of thinking. "But soon. God, it needs to be soon." He didn't quite know why he was pressuring himself to ask you sooner than later.

Maybe it was because he was scared someone much better and more deserving of you (or alternatively, a selfish prick) was going to waltz in and steal you from him just before he had you for sure.

"Do you need any help with that part? I can get Fred and Bri--"

"No no no, it's okay, John." Roger leaned up against the wall of the hallway, fingers tapping the handset absentmindedly with his eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

"You guys have already done enough, really. I... I think I'm good on my own from here."

"Well, I'm glad," John expressed to Roger. "It's not every day you need to help Roger Taylor get with a girl, y'know."

"This is different, and you know it."

"I just like to tease," John defended, and Roger could even hear a smile evident in his words.

"Anyways, Veronica and I will be home tomorrow around noon. Y/n's got our number. You two take care."

"Of course, you too," Roger was making his way back to the writing desk.

"Thanks. Oh, and Roger?" John added quickly.

"Hm?"

"If you two end up doing anything, for God's sake, please wash the sheets."

As John was speaking, you'd walked into the living room with Bobby in your arms. "We're gonna go and have some play time, now! Yes we are!"

Roger was too panicked by your presence to even realize you weren't paying any attention to the phone call, and he hoped to God you didn't hear a single thing John had said. "Yeah-yes! Laundry. Will do."

He nodded his head once, though John couldn't see him, and after saying their good byes, Roger hung up the phone.

He turned to where you were in the living room. You were looking in the play pen for something, and Roger suddenly remembered the rattle in his back pocket.

He pulled it out hurriedly and held it out to you. "Shit! I'm so sorry about that--"

"Don't swear, Roger," you took the rattle, a smile on your lips you both knew you were trying to frown away. "There's a baby here."

"What? He doesn't know what that word means."

"Well, the more you keep saying it, the more of a chance he has at that being his first word, and I do not need the Deacon Family hunting us down for teaching their kid swears." You looked from Roger down to Bobby, shaking the rattle gently and grinning when Bobby squealed happily and reached out for the toy.

You took a seat on the couch, and played around with Bobby while Roger went back to the kitchen to do the dishes.

From 7:30 AM to about 2:30, all that really happened was play-time and lunch, something Roger prepared. You offered to do the dishes, but Roger wouldn't allow it. He just suggested you put Bobby up for his nap. He'd fallen asleep in your arms during play-time, like he did with Roger the night before.

The both of you thought it was crazy Bobby would just fall asleep rather than cry, but honestly, neither of you were complaining. Quiet baby for the win!

Roger just finished putting the last plate on the drying rack on the counter as he listened above for your footsteps leaving Bobby's room. He dried his hands off with the dishtowel hanging over his shoulder after turning off the faucet.

From behind, Roger felt a pair of arms slowly circle his body, and he smiled warmly at the feeling of you pressed against his back.

"He asleep?"

"Mhm."

Roger's smile only widened as you inched your palms up his chest. He turned in your arms and pressed his hands against your hips, inching you closer as he leaned back against the kitchen sink.

"Well, what do we do, now?" Roger asked. He sounded like he was up to no good. With the sultry look in his eyes and the way the smile on his lips looked like he was repressing a naughty suggestion, he knew you knew he already had something on his mind.

"Well, I mean," your hands slipped up into Roger's long hair, fingers tangling themselves between the strands. "Anything, really."

You knew what game Roger was playing, and you loved how cute he was, thinking he was going to have you on your knees for him.

His eyes shamelessly raked over the top half of your body, and he squeezed his hands, still at your hips.

"What'll you be doing with your free time, Roger?" You took one more step closer to him, and he pulled you the rest of the way to him so your groin was flush with his.

"I'm looking right at her."

He was already strained against his jeans, and you just offered a smile, fingers tightening their grip in Roger's hair.

"Mmm... I kinda like the sound of that," you admitted lowly, half of a smile on your lips. You shifted your hips from side to side, and Roger tried to pull you even closer.

You rolled your hips against Roger again, and the cheekiness in his face fell with a look of long-awaited relief, and his head dropped to your shoulder.

One of his hands moved up to grab you by the back of your neck, and when he lifted his head to look at you again, his second hand dragged upwards from your hip to squeeze your waist.

Roger lifted the hand by your neck, and combed your hair back with his fingers. His eyes fell onto yours for a brief moment, and you could have sworn there was something he tried to tell you there.

You just couldn't read him.

But he didn't care. He pulled you in close again, and his lips were on yours.

You'd kissed Roger before. Not in public, but definitely in the bedroom. And they weren't very scarce. Honestly, if Roger's lips weren't somewhere else on your body, they'd be on yours.

But why was this feeling different from all the other times he'd kissed you?

He was being a lot less forceful and needy than he usually was.

His grip wasn't tight on you, and it wasn't like he was crushing you against him as if indicating he needed more of you, now.

He was holding you rather, and the hand at your waist circled around to press against your lower back. The hand on your neck shifted a little forward so Roger could gently slide the pad of his thumb down the column of your throat.

The both of you were holding your breath, and Roger was the first to pull away. The both of you sucked in some air, and before you could even draw in a full breath, Roger's lips were on yours again.

He pushed towards you, guiding you backwards until your back was flat against the refrigerator. His warm hands grabbed for yours and he pinned them above your head by your wrists.

Okay. This, was something you were used to. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for when Roger's hands loosened their grip on your wrists, and he was lacing his fingers between your own.

Your hands felt very small in Roger's. How had he never noticed that before? What else had he neglected to realize about you?

In that moment, he felt you pull away to breathe, and he looked down at you worriedly, fingers frozen, yet still laced with yours.

"I- uh... I-I'm sorry--"

"No no, don't be. It's okay," your response was very rushed, but you didn't skip a word.

There was about a minute of silence, your hot breaths mingling in the space between your lips, though your gazes were locked with one another, and you couldn't look away.

"Did-uh... did you want me to... to stop?" His question was gentle, almost sincere-sounding, but he still made no effort to move from his place.

"No. God, no." And as soon as you'd answered, Roger closed the space between the both of you again, his fingers unwound from yours to grab you by the jaw, and you just held his waist, pushing your body as close to him as he would let you.

He shifted around a little, and moved his leg between yours. You could feel his mouth bend into a smirk against yours, and he began to apply pressure to the apex of your legs with his knee.

Before long, as much as you wanted to resist it, you fell to Roger's submission, and as you waited for him to grab your waist and put you wherever, he hesitated for a second, and dropped his hands from yours.

You opened your eyes again to find Roger, face red, and staring at your chest. Not in an ogling way, but more of a method to avoid looking you in the eye.

He could tell you were looking at him, and he shifted his gaze to you. He itched at his hands awkwardly, mouth opening and closing as he tried to explain himself.

You just waited. You gave him time to think, and he had an answer for you sooner than either of you would have thought.

"I just... I wanna try something else. I don’t want to control you like I do every night."

It wasn't much of an explanation, but a good beginning to a demonstration.

"Will you come to bed with me, Y/n?" His offer was gentle, yet confident, despite offering a hand out hesitantly.

When you dropped your hand into his, all of the tension in Roger's being relaxed, and he quietly led you up the stairs, past the nursery, and into John and Veronica's room.

Before you could say anything he gently explained that he'd do laundry later, and then he pulled you in for another kiss he'd been waiting to give you since the last one.

Roger pulled you closer to him, hands cupping your face as his lips began to desperately chase after yours. You kissed Roger back with just as much vigor, but then he slowed the movements of his mouth, and guided you backwards until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Roger helped lower you down onto the bed, and he leaned over you, dipping down to kiss your lips again. He knelt between your legs, and pulled them up around his waist so he could lean in even closer.

You felt his hands squeeze your hips, and he pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth. You hummed lowly, your eyelashes kissing your cheeks as Roger pulled away ever so slightly-- just enough to pull his shirt off of him, and close the distance between your bodies again.

You tangled your hands into his hair, and he hummed in approval before pulling back just once more.

"I'm sure that's hardly fair..."

"What?"

"This," Roger tugged gently at the hem of your shirt.

"Why's yours still on?"

"... I never said it had to be."

Roger exhaled, and slowly pulled your shirt up over your head after you raised your arms to help him out a little.

He placed the palm of his hand over the smooth skin of your belly as he stared at your bare torso. And before long, he dipping down to kiss you again.

You reciprocated his actions, wrapping your arms around his neck and tightening your legs around his hips, to which he rocked himself against your core, and then---

Bam!

The headboard hit the wall, and Bobby woke up.

"Nooo..." you squeezed your eyes shut as the baby's cries began to reverberate down the hallway.

"Fuck!" Roger groaned, eyebrows knitted together helplessly as he climbed off of you. You both knew it was Roger who technically woke the baby up, and it was just silently agreed on that he went to put him back down.

"Dammit to hell, those separated headboards."

Roger opened the nursery door, and made his way to the crib in the corner of the room. Bobby's cheeks were wet with tears, and Roger's heart sank. "'M sorry, little guy. C'mere. Come see uncle Roger."

He picked the baby up and rocked him back and forth, though it wasn't exactly doing much, so Roger took a seat in the rocking chair on the opposite side of the room, swaying the both of them with a push of his feet.

Bobby's cries settled, and Roger felt proud of himself. Sure, he wanted to get back to what he was doing before, but instead he took his time in making sure Bobby was comfortable and not in need of anything before he drifted off to sleep again.

Bobby played around with Roger's fingers a few moments after his agitation ceased, and he couldn't believe how large his hands were in comparison to Bobby's. He was once that size.

A little while later Roger set Bobby down in his crib, and the infant was out. The drummer smiled at his accomplishment. He didn't even need your help.

With that, he left the room without a sound.

He stepped into John and Veronica's room, and closed the door quietly behind him. He was in the middle of turning on his heel when he stopped dead in his tracks.

You'd taken some of the pillows off the bed and wedged them between the wall and the headboard to keep the bed from making noise.

You were also splayed out on the bed in a lot less clothing than he remembered you in when he left.

With a teasing beckon from your finger, Roger knew three things were for certain.

1. You were the smartest woman he knew.

2. You were the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on.

3. He, the Roger Taylor, had fallen madly, and helplessly in love with you.

-------------------------------------

A/A/N: Again, you’ve all been waiting long enough for the next chapter, so here you are. i hope you all enjoy, and if my response is great with this one, I’ll see if I can spit out another one soon <3

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[mydaroga]

Recent music meme

Tagged by @goldslick to post 10 songs I’ve had on repeat recently.

This will probably be embarrassing since I'm basically all Beatles/Macca all the time, but it's also weird because I don't really listen to things on repeat--I've been writing so I've just put my "writing albums" on here and I've also been listening to whole records mostly as I work through the catalog. Also I guess Tidal doesn't really keep track of listens? ANYWAY ENOUGH EXCUSES!

Long Tailed Winter Bird / Paul McCartney. Hey McCartney III is pretty good and I just dig this song a lot. I think this really is sticking with me because I didn’t expect old!Paul to have anything that would really reach out and while this isn’t like, revolutionary? I really dig the groove and I really love that he just went into the studio during lockdown and made something beautiful. I’ve been pulling this out to show people he’s still alive and stuff.

Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Five / Wings. Honestly wasn’t expecting to love Wings? But this was one of those that hit me when I got to Band on the Run that I just had to crank up and play again. Hey this rocks!

Dear Boy / Paul McCartney. I swear I’ll get to something else eventually but yes I’m still obsessed with this song. I have no idea why except to me, there’s this really intoxicating mixture of sweetness and menace. I don’t mean the lyrics are menacing. I actually mean the unrelenting harmonies feel sinister to me and I know not everyone feels that but I love it.

Spirit of Eden and Colour of Spring, whole albums / Talk Talk. I know they’re mostly known for their one hit single, “It’s My Life,” which you might know from the also excellent No Doubt cover. But I’m putting both of these records on here because this is my primary “writing” music. I have never found anything nearly this good: they’re dynamic and beautiful but somehow not intrusive on my creative process. So it’s more than “ambient” but they don’t distract me and I can’t recommend them highly enough.

Stairway to Heaven / Dolly Parton. My dad sent me a link to this a few weeks ago and I can’t stop thinking about it. I cried the first time I listened to it. The original is one of my mom’s favorites, and I love it, but something about this really captures the spirit of the original but puts a whole new spin on it. There’s something about Dolly’s plaintive vocals and the way this song is somehow made for banjo that kills me.

Twist and Shout / The Beatles. Yes I know it’s a cover but there’s just something about this song that’s become quintessential early boys for me. There’s the obvious fact of John shredding his voice but that scream Paul does right before the last chorus is something else.

What Is Life / George Harrison. This is one of those songs I got to and had to just listen to over three times to remind myself that I was already in love with it without knowing who it was. I hadn’t heard it in AGES but when I put on All Things Must Pass for the first time, this is where it came home. Just a perfect song.

Day in the Life / The Beatles. I can’t say I’m sitting there with this literally on repeat, but I need something on this list to stand in for how I’m hearing their songs in a new way, with new feelings. This song was always genius, but it is so much more to me now and I’ve definitely sat with my ear to the speaker just trying to understand it better. And picking apart the alternate takes. Again. Can’t do it too much because actual crying.

Everybody’s Talkin’ / Harry Nilsson. Again this is sort of a stand-in for the fact that my other primary writing soundtrack is an embarrassing mix of mostly-70s pop and MOR. It’s comforting to me and it doesn’t get in the way of my wording. And this is one of those songs that, when I do hear it again, makes me realize how brilliant simplicity can be. And how you can put sweetness and longing and disillusion into three minutes. 

I’d like to say I listen to more modern music and I do but like, not by much. And right now I’m really unwilling to stray from the zone of either self-instruction or writing music, so there it is. Tagging (if you want!) @inspiteallthedanger , @merseydreams, @beatle-shampoo , @theoldmixer , @slettlune, @prettypersuasion , @brummelliana , @jeanpaul-georges-ringeaux, @gnocchichi and anyone else who wants me to add them!

[monkberries]

They dealt with all of the above. Ringo was treated as a joke for pretty much everything, especially since this was the era of prog rock. His personal life was also tabloid fodder. George was derided as being a dour spiritual nut who was out of touch. He along w/ Ringo didn't get the respect he deserved as a guitarist bc his style wasn't in at the time & people knew little about his role in The Beatles. All credit went to Lennon/McCartney. 1/2

John had the benefit of having the rebel genius image, but even he became a source of ridicule with all the stunts he pulled with Yoko and the way his career declined after Imagine. He wasn't deified to the degree he was in the 80s. I'm not trying to say Paul never had a hard time, but the way this fandom talks as if he is the only one who faced extreme criticism or disrespect just tells me they haven't looked much into the other Beatles' lives. The man is more admired than most musicians. 2/2

(IDK if this screenshotted anons were from the same person or not, but I’ll just answer them in this one since it’s all the same subject.)

Here’s what I think is valid, as I see it: Paul fans are upset by the way his music was treated by the music press, especially in the first few years of the 70s, while the music of the other three were generally given at least the benefit of the doubt. They’re not upset about the tabloid gossip, the purely personal stuff – they are upset, specifically and with good reason, at the way Paul’s music was treated and the way the music world’s personal dislike of him seeped into their music reviews. I’m gonna focus in on 1970 through the end of 1974, since this is where a lot of the complaints spawn from, and things start to shift in a big way in 74. You didn’t ask but contemporary writings about their early solo music is something I’m fascinated by anyway and you turned the wind-up toy key in my back, so. Off I go. This is gonna be so, so long.

At different points in the decade, all of them were subject to a sullying of their personal reputations. That is where I do agree with you: all of them were subjected to that by the press, to varying degrees, at varying times, and for various reasons for each of them. That is just what happens to public figures the longer they are public figures. Tabloids mess with everyone no matter how beloved they are. 

However, that’s not what I generally see Paul fans getting upset about. What I see is that they’re upset at the way the much more legitimate and widely respected music press approached Paul’s music and talent in general. It is widely received knowledge now that the critics treated Paul’s music differently than they did John’s and George’s and even Ringo’s; the trashing was not “equal.” They came at John and George with the assumption that their talent was real and ongoing outside of the Beatles, their genius unquestionable, their motives pure and well-intentioned and honest. Paul was not afforded these assumptions. Some examples to show what I mean, most of them found through wikipedia, rocksbackpages, or rollingstone.com.

John

Plastic Ono Band was Robert Christgau’s number one album of 1970 in The Village Voice. from Creem’s review: “John's record, of course, has been righteously raved over ever since its release, justifiably. It's interesting and even enlightening to see a man working out his trauma on black plastic but more than that, it's totally enthralling to see that Lennon has once again unified, to some degree, his life and his music into a truly whole statement.” From High Fidelity’s review: "a tremendously exciting listening experience, perhaps the best any Beatle has ever offered." In their Imagine review, Rolling Stone called POB “perfect.” A couple reviews in the mainstream were more mixed, put off a little by the rawness of it, but overall the rock world quickly grew to see this album as a work of genius.

Imagine was even more widely well-reviewed, despite a mixed review from Rolling Stone (John fell out with Jann Wenner around this time, curiously). Here’s a passage from rateyourmusic.com: “Imagine was actually one of the most critically acclaimed albums of the year, aside from this tepid review in Rolling Stone. Indeed, much of the rock press seemed palpably relieved that the former Beatle hadn't gone completely off the deep end. ‘It's the best album of the year, and for me it's the best album he's done, with anything, or with anyone, at any time,’ Roy Hollingworth wrote in the 10/9/71 issue of Melody Maker. ‘The album is superb,’ Alan Smith agreed in the 9/11/71 issue of NME. ‘Beautiful. One step away from the chill of his recent total self-revelation, and yet a giant leap towards commerciality without compromise...I have no criticism at all.’”

Some Time in New York City was admittedly John’s nadir, and the press was vicious about it, both personally and musically, deeming the album egotistical, lacking in energy, and devoid of sincerity. However, many maintained a reverence for the genius that came before it and hopeful encouragement for the future. Rolling Stone said that “The Lennons should be commended for their daring;” Creem said it wasn’t half bad; and even though NME’s article was scathing, it ended with a plea for John to return to form, saying, “Don't rely on cant and rigidity. Don't alienate. Stimulate. You know, like you used to.”

Mind Games, though reviews were mixed, fared far better in comparison. Again, there is a hopeful tone to the reviews, a sureness that John can do better. From Rolling Stone talks about the music being a return to POB form, but the writing is his worst yet; however, Landau qualifies this by saying the lyrics aren’t “offensive, per se, just misguided... [John Lennon’s admirers] might even be able to withstand something more challenging” and then praises John’s voice, his production, and a few individual songs. In Melody Maker, Ray Coleman says, “if you warm to the rasping voice of Lennon and, like me, regard him as the true fulcrum of much of what came from his old group, then like any new Lennon album, it will be enjoyable and even important.” Christgau is more middling but also says, “Still, the single works, and let's hope he keeps right on stepping.”

Walls and Bridges seems confusing to reviewers in retrospect. They couldn’t seem to come to a consensus on it. The musicianship was widely praised, for the most part, though Rolling Stone criticized the first side on this front; reviewers alternately said it was “the latest chapter in John Lennon’s Identity Crisis” (Creem) and “truly a superb album by any standards” (Melody Maker). Throughout the Rolling Stone review, the author is able to thoroughly critique the songs, for better or worse, with a neutral affect and without resorting to insulting John personally. He ends the review on a positive note: “When one accepts one’s childhood, one’s parenthood and the impermanence which lies between, one can begin to slog along. When John slogs, he makes progress.” Again, even though the reviews aren’t all positive, we can see, especially and most importantly in the most influential rock magazine of the time, the acknowledgment of his talent, a sense of excitement for what John will do next, and a belief that his work is authentic and honest.

George

All Things Must Pass, I mean. Apart from a couple of outliers like Christgau in The Village Voice (he called it “overblown fatuity”), it was incredibly, almost universally beloved by the music press when it came out. There was quite a bit of surprise that such a talent had been under everyone’s noses all this time, but I don’t think anon is quite correct that all the credit for the Beatles went to Lennon/McCartney. For example, Ben Gerson in Rolling Stone recognized George’s talent within the Beatles like this: “Up until now, George has been perhaps the premier studio musician among rock band guitarists. From the electronic whine which began “I Feel Fine” to the break in “Hard Day’s Night” to the crazed, sitar-influenced burst on “Taxman,” George exhibited an avant-garde imagination and a technical flawlessness, as well as the ability to stay within the bounds of a song, which has remained unparalleled.” In Melody Maker, the feeling of journalists was summed up thusly: hearing the album was “the rock equivalent of the shock felt by pre-war moviegoers when Garbo first opened her mouth in a talkie: Garbo talks! – Harrison is free!" The personal nature and honesty of the lyrics were praised as well; Time described it as an “expressive, classically executed personal statement.” Ben Gerson did call his proselytizing offensive, but in the next sentence says that George redeems himself from that with the personal plea in Hear Me Lord.

Concert for Bangla Desh - again, some cynicism from Christgau in The Village Voice (must have woke up on the wrong side of the bed that day) and of course tax issues dogged it later, but overall, for the rock press at the time, this was a crowning achievement that George pulled off. He was praised all over the press, countercultural and mainstream, for his live musical talent, the group of musicians that joined him, the lack of political motivation, the sincerity and goodwill, and George’s ability to bring back  "a brief incandescent revival of all that was best about the Sixties" (Rolling Stone). To this day he is credited with creating the model for future charity concerts. 

Living in the Material World - Nothing could have topped the one-two punch of ATMP and the Concert for Bangla Desh, but honestly, LITMW came pretty close for some journalists. Rolling Stone again praised George’s honesty and authenticity: “ Despite the occasional use of “psychedelic puns,” Harrison’s lyrics are so guileless they convey an extraordinary sincerity that transcends questions of craftsmanship. Similarly, the devotions we are called upon to share with Harrison, though they communicate no specific, private torment, do have the authenticity of overheard prayers and are therefore sacred.” Melody Maker said, "Harrison has always struck me before as simply a writer of very classy pop songs; now he stands as something more than an entertainer. Now he's being honest." The pushback against his pious attitude and lyrics picked up some steam with this album, particularly with Christgau (again) and Tony Tyler of NME, who called it “so damn holy I could scream.” However, it was far from the consensus opinion at the time, and with the biggest rock magazine in the world at your back, you can withstand quite a bit.

Dark Horse, oof. That poor man. It did get some positivity in Billboard and Melody Maker, but my god, the reviews for this album and its subsequent tour were so cruel. I suspect when these anon(s) talk about the others being treated terribly by the press as well, this, along with John’s STINYC, is one of the examples they would give, and they’re not wrong about that. This was the point where George’s piety and what they perceived as a sanctimonious attitude finally started really getting to everyone, and the album plus the tour was the perfect opportunity to dogpile on him. I guess it was to be expected; no one can ride that high forever, and the press loves to knock people over and kick them while they’re down. Rolling Stone called it “disastrous,” “shoddy,” and called his guitar work “rudimentary,” eventually declaring that George had “never been a great artist.” This from the same magazine that was practically worshipping at his feet the year before. Yowch.

Ringo

Sentimental Journey - The less that’s said about this album, the better.

Beaucoups of Blues was actually quite well-received. No one called him a genius for it, and it wasn’t a serious personal record and therefore wasn’t treated that way, but journalists seemed uniquely able to let themselves enjoy this record despite the serious/political/personal tone of most musicians at the time. Melody Maker believed Ringo had  "conviction and charm" and that because of that, the album stripped away the serious “hip posturing” and let you just enjoy the music on its own terms. The Village Voice said that Ringo was “good at making himself felt.” Although Rolling Stone’s tone was a bit more cruel than other magazines (there was a crack somewhere in there that Ringo wasn’t as smart as John), it also called him lovable and the record “a real winner” where the songs “sound terrific.”

Ringo was a total smash and I think people forget this. It’s remembered only because it’s an album that was worked on by all four Beatles, but actually, the critics fuckin loved it. Ringo was praised in Rolling Stone for his unpretentiousness, sensibility, and essentially collaborative nature: “Ringo was always the figure of conciliation within the Beatles, undoubtedly the most genial, conceivably the most sensible, and the one with the smallest musical axe to grind. His very lapses bespoke the esteem in which the others held him; had they not liked him so much, those perfectionists would never have allowed him to sing. Perhaps because as the drummer he stood outside the process of creation, he had the best perspective from which to see the Beatles as a unity. Ringo has never had any pretense of self-sufficiency. Once he had gotten his special projects out of the way (projects for which John, Paul and George's talents would have been unsuited anyway) Ringo was ready to call upon the three most obvious people to assist him with writing, singing and playing. As Starr's first "pop album," Ringo signifies a homecoming, not just of family, but in musical style as well.”

Goodnight Vienna was kind of a minor album for Ringo, but still, reviews were pretty good. Rolling Stone praised his “unalloyed sincerity which is his trademark and trump card.” Yet again, we see the theme of authenticity popping up in these reviews - if you are perceived as authentic, honest, and sincere, that takes you a long way with music reviewers in this time period, and Ringo was nothing if not wholly, completely himself.

Paul

McCartney - One of the main complaints of Paul fans is that Jann Wenner forced Langdon Winner, the author of the review for this album in Rolling Stone, to rewrite his article and put a more negative spin on it. The result is that Winner praised most of the music but totally undermined his own praise by questioning the authenticity of the tone and deriding the press release that came with the album as much as he praised the music. He ends the article like this: “I like McCartney very much. But I remember that the people of Troy also liked that wooden horse they wheeled through their gates until they discovered that it was hollow inside and full of hostile warriors.” This was a huge blow at a time when personal authenticity and substance were considered paramount. Melody Maker also questioned the legitimacy of his genius, saying “With this record, [McCartney's] debt to George Martin becomes increasingly clear.” Most other reviews weren’t any better.

Ram, I mean, Jesus Christ the reviews for this. It’s a widely respected album now, even made the RS top 500 albums of all time list last year, but at the time people were still so angry with Paul for supposedly breaking up the Beatles that they were still taking it out on his music a year later (imo). Landau in Rolling Stone called it “emotionally vacuous” and said it lacked conviction, saying also that it was “so incredibly inconsequential and so monumentally irrelevant you can’t even [hate it]; it is difficult to concentrate on, let alone dislike or even hate.” NME called it “the worst thing Paul McCartney has ever done.” Threaded through these reviews is a belief that the songs are devoid of meaning and that Paul’s happy domestic front is just a frustrating lie; Christgau in The Village Voice said he was “infuriated by the McCartneys' modern young-marrieds image” - infuriated because he clearly doesn’t believe it, rendering Paul dishonest and his music inauthentic. Once again journalists are unable to review Paul’s music without sniping about him as a person.

Wild Life - Though the situation remains largely the same - reviewers refuse to take him seriously, believe anything he says, or treat his musical talent as anything but vacuous fluff - the reviews aren’t quite as bad as they were for Ram and a bit of positivity begins to stir. It’s evident especially in the Rolling Stone review, where Mendelsohn wonders if Paul is making crappy fluff on purpose to piss John off because it will sell just as well anyway. It’s not much, and on top of the fairly strong criticism there is almost no hope for future Paul releases: “My own conviction is that we'd be foolish to expect anything much more earth-shaking than Wild Life out of McCartney for a good long while... In the meantime the reader is advised to either develop a fondness for vacuous but unpretentious pop music or look elsewhere for musical pleasure.” But it’s something.

Red Rose Speedway Paul continues to be lambasted by a lot of the press on this album for being lightweight and having no meaning behind his songs (at this point it’s just repetitive to quote the articles, just trust me that they say basically the same thing they were saying for the past three albums too), BUT I think a nuance that gets forgotten in all of this is that Rolling Stone gave it kind of a decent review. It seems like they finally quit gatekeeping and realized that songs don’t need to have some deep personal meaning to be good. Kaye is still not very nice about Paul’s lyrics but he recognizes that he doesn’t have to take Paul’s music on the same terms as he takes John and George. Paul’s music is less personal, but that doesn’t make it unworthy. He calls it “pleasant, accessible without concentration” and praises Paul’s voice and arranging skills. It feels like for this album, Rolling Stone took the stick out of its own ass when it came to Paul and finally relaxed enough to receive Paul’s music on his terms rather than theirs. Which, imo, primed the rock world for...

Band on the Run, Paul’s comeback. Even though Christgau in The Village Voice remained unconvinced (he called it “a pleasant piece of hackwork”), almost everyone else adored it. It seems weird to us now, but the general sentiment seemed to be that people were surprised by how good this album was. NME said, “The ex-Beatle least likely to re-establish his credibility and lead the field has pulled it off with a positive master-stroke”; and although Landau’s review in Rolling Stone overflowed with praise, he also said, “I'm surprised I like Band on the Run so much more than McCartney's other solo albums because, superficially, it doesn't seem so different from them.” 

I hope I’ve been able to demonstrate a general trajectory with the musical reputation of each Beatle here. John starts off on two incredible high points, crashes and burns, and then works his way back up. He DEFINITELY missed with STINYC, but even when he followed it up with Mind Games, there was still a hopeful tone to the reviews, sort of like, “Ah, well, the last two weren’t great but we’re still looking forward to what John will give us next.” Until the Dark Horse tour/album, which did sour the press on poor George, the music press adored him. It was hit after hit with him. He could not miss. Three high points, one after the other, then a monumental crash. Ringo seems to stay fairly high, even if the records aren’t serious records. All three of them start out incredibly well, and the music press was able and willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Paul was given none of that. Perhaps because he was out of step with the attitudes about music at the time, perhaps because journalists hated him for breaking up the Beatles, perhaps because they believed John when he painted Paul as “establishment,” perhaps a combination - whatever their issue was, Paul was given no benefit of the doubt to start with, no faith in his genius, and no belief in his authenticity. He was just a hack to the music press for the first few years of the 70s; he started at the bottom and was forced to work his way up, unlike the other three. It started, imo, when Wenner forced the journalist who wrote the McCartney review in RS to rewrite the article, and it spiraled from there. He was seen as hollow and uncool, as one of the anons said, “straight” in the parlance of the time - straight meaning “establishment.” This is kind of where I do start to roll my eyes a little bit at stans, when they get upset at people calling him “establishment” and trying to prove that actually he was so anti-establishment that people couldn’t handle it or whatever, without trying to understand what the word “anti-establishment” meant at the time. But there are also really substantive arguments you can make that say Paul’s music was not taken seriously because of a personal grudge against him.

I’m not saying that all of them didn’t have run-ins with the music press. I’m saying there is nuance here that I don’t think these anons are allowing for in the first few years of that decade. They came at George and John and Ringo with a positive, or at least neutral, slant most of the time. They came at Paul with a negative one. Case in point are the reviews of Band on the Run that were surprised at how good it was. That stuff gets people’s hackles up. The others didn’t have positive reviews rewritten to be more negative. The others didn’t have albums savaged that are now on the Rolling Stone top 500 albums of all time list. I do agree that John, at least, and George post Dark Horse, had a harder time with the music press than people generally remember or care to think about – deification is retroactive, I guess, and as Paul fans we should definitely recognize that Paul wasn’t the only one who went through a rough time with the press. But I do think Paul’s situation was made uniquely and unjustifiably difficult for those first few years.

I mean, at the same time, I cannot stress enough how much this did not affect his bottom line. Despite the horrible reviews, Ram still made a ton of money, McCartney made a ton of money, Band on the Run and Wild Life and Red Rose Speedway all made a ton of money. He had a fanbase, a huge one, that followed him loyally and faithfully through the early 70s as he was getting savaged by the press, and through the middle and late 70s when he was touring. At some point, you have to step back and go, wait. Why does any of this matter? This was 50 years ago. He was a multi-millionaire then and is a billionaire now. And you are right; whenever people over-generalize and try to make the case that Paul was always badly reviewed and the others were press darlings, I tend to get annoyed because they’re totally missing the actually interesting nuances of the situation (that can be easily found online! I found most of the music reviews through snippets on Wikipedia!) In conclusion, I guess my point is that both “Paul was vilified while everyone else wasn’t” and “everyone was equally vilified” paint the events of the early 70s with brushes that are too broad and miss the nuance that was evident in the way the press interacted with their music.

[bluecrusadearcade]

Harrison Osterfield is not your regular irregular

By Baker Street, Gentleman’s Journal quizzes the star of Netflix’s new drama on world records, Sherlock Holmes and his golf swing…

Draped in a silk shirt and paisley scarf, Harrison Osterfield is shivering his way across a brisk Regent’s Park. But he’s not complaining. Why would he? After all, the 24-year-old has dealt with worse. In his latest television series alone — Netflix’s The Irregulars — he’s tussled with demonic crows, paranormal serial killers and even the occult. So a little nip in the air? Nothing to worry about.

“I do have my eye on that jumper, though,” beams Osterfield from behind a bold pair of sunglasses. I don’t blame him. It’s a chunky-knit, funnel-neck number from Connolly, and the next piece of clothing lined up for this al fresco photoshoot. But, for now, the young actor must grit his chattering teeth — and continue striking willowy poses in that billowy shirt.

And those poses are turning heads. Dog-walkers, taxi drivers and tourists are all picking up on Osterfield’s energy; a coolly British blend of big grins and bouncy enthusiasm. He swings from a lamppost! He dances through daffodils! He feeds the pigeons! NW1 hasn’t seen this much action in months…

And we’ve come to Regent’s Park for obvious reasons; Baker Street snakes down from its south-west corner. And, on that famous thoroughfare, sits the fictional digs of Sherlock Holmes. But The Irregulars, a supernatural-tinged drama named for Holmes’ gang of trusty street informants, wasn’t shot in London. Rather, it was filmed on the authentically old streets of Sheffield and Liverpool — the same cobbles walked by the Peaky Blinder boys. So this, Osterfield grins, is a fun opportunity to see the real thing.

“All of the rest of the cast,” he admits, “are really big Sherlock fans. I’ve never really read any of the Sherlock books. I’ve seen maybe one Robert Downey Jr. film? So I was very new going into it.”

Today, then, will be a crash course. Because, after we get Osterfield out of the park (and into that jumper), we’re heading to the Holmes Hotel for a coffee and a catch-up. It’s a relatively new hotel just off Baker Street, decked out with knowing nods to the world’s greatest detective. There’s a bronze bulldog guarding the door, pipe-patterned wallpaper and signature cocktails at the sadly-closed bar (anyone for a ‘Case Closed’?).

But, though there are only suggestions of Sherlock in the Holmes Hotel, Osterfield explains that they’re even subtler in the show. Because The Irregulars, in a nutshell (wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma), sidelines the sleuth, and shifts the focus onto Osterfield and his fellow gang members. The actor plays one of the show’s leads; frail runaway nobleman Prince Leopold. All sullen glances and broken bones, his story is the heart of this first season.

“And it’s been a long project in the making,” says Osterfield, noting that filming on The Irregulars began almost two years ago. “That’s quite daunting. When you’ve spent that much time on something and you’ve got no idea how it’s going to turn out?

“It means that, now, it’s crunch time,” he continues, face creasing with mock-worry, “and I have no idea how people are going to react. But I’m really proud of the work, and that’s what I’m taking away from it.”

The Irregulars may be Osterfield’s first lead role — but he’s been acting for years, popping up in several short films and the George Clooney-directed adaptation of Catch-22 before Netflix took notice. His first role came at 11-years-old, when he was cast as Tiny Tim in his school’s stage production of A Christmas Carol. “It’s funny, actually,” says Osterfield, “because it’s quite a similar physicality to my role in The Irregulars”.

“But that’s where it started,” he continues. “And the real reason I got into acting was because there was this girl in the drama class who I really liked. I thought, if I joined up and impressed her, I could take her out on a date. That didn’t happen. But, although she wasn’t interested at all — the acting seems to be going okay!”

It certainly does. But, like actors all over the world, it’s been a very slow year for Osterfield. He returned to set in September to finish filming the Netflix show — but the rest of his lockdown was eerily, cannily familiar to everyone else’s.

“I went back to my home in Kingston,” he nods, “where I was living with three of my best mates who are also actors. Quite a few of my friends are in theatre, and they had a really tough time of it — not knowing what was going to happen next. I was very lucky, knowing that I was going back to finish something”.

The actor says it was strange being locked-down with fellow performers. With sets closed around the country and curtains falling on theatres, it was one of the first times they had all been at home together. But, even with the additional pressure, he says there were no problems. And there never have been, according to Osterfield — as it’s rare that he and his friends ever compete for the same role.

“We’re all very different castings!” he laughs. “Which is good. It’s a mixed bag, really. But it’s very useful when you’ve got to self-tape an audition and there’s another actor literally upstairs. Also, we’ve all known each other for ten years, so we’ve grown up together and, luckily, know when not to push each other’s buttons.”

With no work, Osterfield spent most of his 2020 getting stuck into lockdown. And he shamelessly tried every self-isolated stereotype. He binge-watched every sports documentary from Drive to Survive to Last Chance U. He upped the frequency and intensity of his workouts. He even tried his hand at cooking. He tried everything.

“I did try everything!” the actor laughs, fizzing once more with that lamppost-swinging, daffodil-dancing energy. “Really! I think I went though every lockdown activity there is. I gave baking a go for two weeks — that didn’t work out. I made a banana bread and that was it. I’m not going to be delving into that any more…

“We were quite lucky, though,” he adds, “because we had an outdoor space. We built a homemade golf net in our garden, by putting up two wooden poles and hanging a blue screen we had left over from filming. That kept us entertained most days”.

But, despite the failed banana breads, closed-off golf courses and Irregulars anxiety, Osterfield says that the worst thing about lockdown was missing his family.

“Because we’re a very close family”, he explains. “Massively so. And, usually, we’d have family gatherings every other weekend – my whole family are in East Grinstead and closer to Brighton, so real countryside. I’m honestly just looking forward to the day, with summer on the horizon, that we can do some good barbecues outside.

“We even tried family Zoom quizzes over lockdown,” he adds, “and they all figured out that I’m not that clever. The rest of my family all seem really, really intelligent. I don’t know if they were just revising beforehand, but I was definitely last a couple of times…”

And Osterfield’s most inspiring family member — not to mention the most irregular — is his 89-year-old grandfather. Despite the young actor upping his own fitness levels during lockdown (“I started doing handstand push-ups. That’s my new skill!”) Osterfield’s grandfather put those athletic achievements to shame.

“He’s fitter than me!” laughs Osterfield. “He’s been kept at home for most of the time and, as a family, we’ve been quite worried about him. But I struggle to keep up with him. I’ll ring him up and ask how his day’s going and he’ll say ‘Oh, hi Harry. Can I call you back later on? I’m just doing some exercise’. So he’s doing better than okay!”

But the exercising, Osterfield says seriously, has been a real lifeline. It’s kept both him and his mind busy during lockdown — and has motivated the actor to pursue more physical, active roles in the future. If he can look back at a body of versatile work, measured out in marked body transformations, he says he’ll be happy.

“I’ve been doing a lot of bodyweight exercise over the last year,” he nods. “I thought it would be quite cool, while in lockdown, to break a world record for something — so I’ve been trying lots of fitness challenges. I’m very close to getting the most burpee chin-ups in under a minute. I’ve got to knuckle down on that.

“I also tried to eat an apple in under 38 seconds,” he laughs. “Which sounds like a long time, but it’s actually quite difficult. And, with apples, I eat everything. Even the middle bit. Even the stem. I just chuck it down. I’m a big fruit bat, so I eat everything apart from the seeds.”

There’s that bouncy energy again; that fun-but-utterly-sincere enthusiasm. It’s an odd thing for an actor, to be so happily unabashed by everything — but the 24-year-old is as animated when talking about his acting as he is about his apples. And that’s nice to see. He’s clearly relishing every opportunity to better himself, and just getting started with what promises to be a very exciting career. Harrison Osterfield, it seems, takes every bite of the apple — literally. Talk about irregular.

[sweetlilpaulie]

Never Leave Me.

Request for time travel reader, telling the boys about the future.

Reader X John (it was never specified, but I wanted to do John, cause, well... it’s John)

Caution: Language

Enjoy, my cuties.

P.S. Not to get confused, she’s been with the boys for a few months now, so she knows them pretty well.

~~~

Dear Diary,

Sometimes, we like to dream about what life would be like had we done something different, or said something that we held inside. Maybe, even daydream of the possibilities that we know will never happen. I admit to have fantasized on many occasions, to have been born in a different state, with a bigger house and adoring people on my sides, maybe even in a different time.

Funny, I guess I never thought that I’d end up here. Those very daydreams coming to life. To be honest, I still have no idea how I got here, and if the boys ever found out well... I don’t know what I’d do...

“(y/n)!”

Startled, I turned around, quickly shutting my notebook and placing it under a pillow. 

“H-hey.”

Paul smirked.

“What cha been up to in this room for so long ay? Coulda had a whole orgy by now.”

Blushing furiously, I frowned at him. 

“I was...writing, you silly goose. What cha need?” 

Well, John’s been waitin for ya, he won’t say why, says it’s a surprise.”

I raised an eyebrow. 

“Really? Well, alright then.”

Paul and I walked down the stairs into the studio apartment’s tiny parlour. 

John was lounging lazily on the loveseat, his head drifting dangerously downward.

“Oh, Johnny!” chirped Paul loudly.

John’s head snapped up.

“Took ya long enough!”

He grinned, standing up.

My breath hitched. 

Every time, even now, his face always made me stare in wonder. And each time, I have to remember.

He’s alive. 

And he’s mine. 

“Like what you see?” he smirked at my awestruck face.

Not wanting to stroke his ego further, I crossed my arms and cheekily replied “No, but you do.” 

It was then, Paul cleared his throat. 

“Save that for the bedroom, ay? I’m still here, for Christ’s sake.”

“What are ye still doin’ here? Sod off Macca.”

Raising his hands defensively, he left the premises. 

Turning back to me, he smiled once again.

“Come ‘ed. ‘ve got somethin’ to show ya.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Grabbing my hand he pulled me out the backdoor and into the yard. 

I gasped in surprise.

White rose bushes were planted on every side, a tall elegant fountain sitting in the middle.

“You said you wanted a garden...so ‘ere ya are.”

There were cobblestones joined together to create a pathway towards the fountain. By the fountain, was a small table and two chairs, a bowl of strawberries, and a tea set were lying on top of the table.

“All...for me?”

“Yes love, all for ya.” he nuzzled my cheek.

This all keeps getting better and better.

“Well, let’s not keep the grub waitin, shall we?”

He guided me towards the table. Sitting down, he poured some tea in the cup along with a bit of cream and a spoonful of sugar. Stirring it all together, he passed me the cup and saucer. Taking a sip, I closed my eyes in delight.

“Earl Grey, you remembered.”

“How could I forget?” 

Opening my eyes, John had his on mine. My heart started beating faster once again.

“(y/n), the truth is...” he looked down, biting his lip slightly.

“...I-I think I’m in love with you.”

Before I could open my mouth, he quickly added “I know we’ve only known each other for a short time, but, I dunno, I think you might be the one I’ve been looking for...oh dear God, that sounds so cliché, doesn’t it? I’m really not that kind of guy, I don’t want you to think I’m that sort of guy, look...”

“John.” I raised my eyebrows, and he went quiet.

“I should probably tell you something...”

His brows furrowed in confusion, and then worry “Look, I’m sorry if that was a little forward, but...please, don’t think I’m gonna push ya in any way, if you don’t love me back I’d understand...”

“JOHN!” 

He shut up once again.

“Good God, Lennon! Calm down. The truth is I love you too.” his eyes widened and a grin spread on his face “Hold up mister, I’m not done yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What else is there you need to say?”

“Uhm...okay, y’know how I told you my parents were in Canada, and that they worked in a small town that nobody knows?”

“Yes?” his eyebrow raised further yet. 

“That’s...not...entirely true.” I bit my lip. His face only urged me to continue. “Uhm, they actually, aren’t here.”

Too vague. 

Before he could share his inner demons, I quickly added. “They’re not dead. They just uhm...well, they aren’t here...yet.”

“ m’afraid I don’t know what you mean love.” 

“Look, I’m gonna sound crazy, It’s absolutely wild, and you may think I’ve lost it, trust me, It’s hard for me too. Do you understand?”

He nodded mutely, still giving me a puzzled look.

“I’m not from here.”

He rolled his eyes at this “I know that much ya yank.”

“No, well yes...but, not from this...time.”

I took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t born in 1944. I was actually born in 2001.”

It was then he started laughing.

“Good one, (y/n). Still don’t really see the punchline though.”

I slapped my forehead. 

“I thought you might think this was a joke. But, I’m being serious.”

He light smile faded, and turned to a frown.

“Whaddya mean you’re from 2001? Hasn’t even ‘appned yet!”

“I know...I’m from the future.” 

He stared at me blankly for a long time. Then crossing his arms and giving me a skeptical look he finally spoke.

“Prove it then.”

After many months of hiding the technology, I finally pulled out my phone. I tapped on the screen several times to reveal my home screen. 

“Wha- the bloody ‘ell is that?” 

“It’s a phone, love. Look.” I tapped on my Spotify app.

“You boys have been working on a new album with all originals correct?”

“Y-yes, you know this.”

“But you are keeping it a secret, not even I’ve heard the music.” I smirked. “Or at least, you don’t think I have.”

I tapped once more on the screen revealing A Hard Day’s Night album. 

“We haven’t even...”

“Named it? Oh, I know. Check this out. Y’know the song the Macca brought to your house yesterday? And I love her?” I pointed to the screen, and viola it was there. I played the song. His eyes widened in shock.

“We haven’t even finished...”

“Yeah, next week George Martin is going to ask for an intro, and George Harrison is gonna come up with something that will make the song.” His mouth was gaping, he couldn’t believe his ears “Don’t believe me? You don’t have to take my word for it. You can ask him yourself, and you’ll know it’s true.” 

At this point, John knew she couldn’t be lying.

“How...?”

“I honestly have no fucking idea. But, here I am, with you, with the Beatles! And it’s a dream come true!”

“Wait...” He quickly interrupted “You said you were born in 2001. That’s...decades. Are we really that famous?” I could hear the anticipation and excitement in his voice. 

Biting my lip, I nodded. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna be a hit.”

He grinned. “I knew it.”

“Don’t get too cocky Lennon. You might just fall off your high horse.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

“Uhm...”

You’re gonna get assassinated. 

“No.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

“Really?”

“Well, you marry this crazy lady.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised. What’s ‘er name?”

“You don’t wanna know, trust me.”

“Alright then. What else?”

“You grow a beard a few times.”

“Really? I’ve always wondered what’d that’d be like.” he looked up thoughtfully. 

I giggled at his inquisitive look. 

But my joyful moment soon subsided. I finally remembered the truth of the future. 

A world without Lennon.

I should tell him. Of course! If I tell him, he’ll know not to step anywhere near that man! He needs to know!

“Erm...there is one more thing.”

He smiled at me “Yes, kitten?”

“You...” I couldn’t help but stare straight into his orbs once again. 

He’s alive. He’s breathing. He’s here with me.

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

“(y/n)? You still here? I know I look good, but maybe you could not get distracted one tiny second?”

I blushed again, and cleared my throat. “Well, this isin’t really something you wanna hear but...”

“But?”

“Uhm, well, you’re dead.”

He looked down at the ground in slight disappointment. “Of course. We all die eventually.”

“Yes, but with you...” before I could stop it, a tear slipped down my eye. “...you could have lived so much longer...had it not been..”

I choked. Tears continued to stream.

“Love, s’alright. I’m still here. Hey, look at me.” He laced his fingers with mine. 

“Y-you were assassinated! That bastard shot you four times! You did nothing wrong!!” I sobbed wildly, mascara streaking on my cheeks. 

He was appalled, but continued to comfort me.

“S’alright love, now that I know, I’ll make sure to not be where I was that day, yeah? You’ve saved me! I’ll be alright! Doll, please don’t cry.” He wiped away my tears with his handkerchief. 

I looked up at him with relief in my eyes. “You’re gonna be ok.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna be ok.”

He leaned in and kissed me.

In that moment I had finally realized. 

He was here.

He was alive.

And he loves me.

~~~

Lol, this ended up being more emotional than I thought it would be. I’ll admit to getting a little misty eyed as I wrote this up.

Again, thanks to my computer, which died on me...again... this story is finally out now. Hope you enjoy! 

L.M.

[softschofield]

a guide to the secondary characters of 1917

inspired by @a-beautiful-struggle-of-life because saying “i wanna fall in love with all these characters too omg” is just such an open invitation and i couldn’t resist ♡♡♡

sergeant sanders: “yes, well, sorry to disrupt your crowded schedule, blake, but the brass hats didn’t fancy it in the snow.” the sergeant of blake and scho’s platoon. the one to first introduce us to our boys so we have to love him for it

lieutenant gordon: “a couple of little treats.” he’s soft. i love him. he’s just the hype man of erinmore, like does he want to agree with another one of his proverbs? another one of his quotes? another one of his shakespearean monologues that he learned off by heart at eton? no. he’s so tired. he doesn’t want to hear another fancy sentence in his life. “wouldn’t you say, lieutenant?” he wants to say i could not possibly give a smaller fuck, sir, but can he? no. let him sleep

sergeant: “YOU’RE GOING UP A DOWN TRENCH YOU BLOODY IDIOTS” he doesn’t have a name but MAN did he have a cultural impact. like he changed my world with that line. the delivery? the poise? the hint of a snarl? no one else could ever and i’m afraid that’s just the facts. he was probably mad because he just had a tiff with leslie and he got the day of the week wrong. he thought he had it this time. he didn’t. he never does 

private kilgour: a bloody waste of space. THE softest boy. somehow managed a perfect :o in real life. how did he do it? no one knows. dermatologists HATE him. owns a cute scarf that he's managed to actually keep clean. probably has a blanket stashed somewhere. he’s just so, so gentle, he deserves nothing but good

lieutenant leslie: “for any sins thou hast committed.” you already know. you already KNOW. every time i saw this film there was someone who whispered “moriarty!” the first time it was me. he’s just so tired. a lieutenant shouldn’t be in command of a company. everyone is dead. his only friends are the orderlies he forces to hang out with him in his smelly dugout because all the other officers are in bits and pieces. the orderlies are trapped. they can’t escape him. gallows humour. he just needs a rest. we love him. was absolutely checking schofield out for the majority of their scene together. i've written about how they absolutely seem to have history and i'll say it again: they do. gay

the idiot who thought it was tuesday: one of the orderlies that leslie is holding prisoner solely to bully. when no one else is around they probably cuddle while leslie has a cry and the idiot who thought it was tuesday (TIWTIWT) comforts him and tells him he can do it

private atkins: “hey, it’s alright, it’s okay.” one of the two to find scho trying to haul blake’s body along. the gentlest giant. parry’s back-up, like he looks like he’d be in charge because he’s all big and tough-looking but then weedy, hot-headed little parry is the one doing the talking and atkins is just hovering behind him being soft. loves and supports his friends. they remind me so much of an iconic cartoon duo but i just can’t put my finger on it, but you just know they’d get into mischief because of parry and atkins is just “i don’t know about this” but of course he goes along with it

private parry: “you alright, mate?” he single-handedly made everyone in the cinema jump when some random english guy suddenly spoke when no one else was supposed to be around. he’s tiny but in charge and we truly do love to see it. lowkey feral vibes. you just know he’s a little bit chaotic and snarky and he’d challenge anyone twice his size to a fight, but he’s also gentle and worries about schofield so much when he doesn’t know him at all and i Love him the very most  

captain smith: “it doesn’t do to dwell on it.” the dad. the warmest, most calming dad. gives great hugs. he’s tired because he has to spend all his time trying to keep parry and cooke apart because if they ever met and conspired all hell would quite literally break out, like they’d be too powerful together and he knows it. has a cane for the aesthetic. he’s completely traumatised but he has to keep it together for personal pride and for his boys

colonel collins: “they at least could have retreated with a bit of grace, BASTARDS.” i quote him daily. he truly is just the stuff of legends. we love to see it 

colonel collins’ driver: “no, sir.” if he and lieutenant gordon ever met they wouldn’t even speak, they’d just fall asleep on each other. they’re both so exhausted by their superiors. when will they be free

private rossi: “welcome aboard the night bus to fuck knows where.” we love him!!!!!! we really do love him!!!!!!! scottish. soft. he and jondalar are best friends and jondalar teases him constantly. genuinely lovely, observant, empathetic. he talks about the pointlessness and bleakness of what they’re doing when no one else dares think on it too much in case they break down and i love him for it. probably goes home to become a war poet

private cooke: “HERE, DRIVER, HOW ABOUT YOU TRY TO KEEP IT ON THE BLOODY ROAD FOR A CHANGE” ABSOLUTE feral vibes. he’s just a public menace and we love him

private butler: “alright, alright, keep your ‘air on.” i really do just love him. he’s the one who tells the story about scott and beaufoy and eventually rallies everyone together to help scho push the truck, but to me he’s better known for being the scrawny little icon with the especially prominent red x on his sleeve and the moustache who’s just so GRUMPY all the time. like why is he so GRUMPY? i love him

sepoy jondalar: “i hope you get there.” it’s recognised in the script that he did the best impersonation of beaufoy, we love to see him excelling. gentle. loves schofield with his entire heart and he’s only just met him. there are a few iconic duos in this film - scho and blake, parry and atkins, bäumer and deserving more - and jondalar and rossi are one of them

private malky: “you could do with a new set.” my FAVOURITE!!!! the script says rossi says that line but i am CONVINCED it’s malky and i will stand by that. sounds like george harrison from the beatles. a soft lad who quietly teases cooke TWICE in one and a half pages with the most bashful kinda voice. he and cooke are another iconic duo. i love him so, so much. gay. they all are but malky especially. all the gays ride in that truck, that’s why smith, The Gay Dad, chose to put scho in with them

driver: “oh, piss off.” he and cooke have an iconic dynamic and it’s only one line long. you just know cooke is always giving him shit, it’s a running gag that’s famous throughout the whole company 

lauri: “chil-dren? you?” the queen of deserving more. she’s only something like 17 and she’s probably an orphan raising another orphan. if you’ve seen 1917 and don’t love her with your whole entire soul then you get shot on sight, like i literally do not make the rules. the softest, strongest girl. a lesbian

private bäumer: “ENGLÄNDER!” the king of not keeping his goddamn mouth shut. at least two people in this fandom ship him with kilgour and i am one of them. a soft twink. i love him. if he weren’t dying he would have loved being straddled by scho and i can’t blame him for that

private müller: “bäumer? BÄUMER!” the one who was throwing up. he’s like kat from all quiet on the western front, the older veteran who takes the fresh recruits under his wing. he did not deserve to lose bäumer like that and honestly the grief in his voice when he realises what’s happened HAUNTS me. i really do love him so much. he felt guilty about deserting. he had so much depth like every other character who was barely on screen for half a scene and i hope he made it out of the war and did okay

private seymour: “well he’s not one of ours.” i just love his accent, i’m sorry this one is purely selfish. but i do love him so much, he was instantly ready to LITERALLY pick scho up and just take him with them and that’s pretty iconic. like he was just going to adopt this random, half-drowned soldier who showed up out of nowhere with no rifle or helmet or pack. his now

lieutenant richards: “what the HELL are you doing, lance corporal?” my FAVOURITE secondary character. like i say that about all of them, but i love him, lauri, malky, rossi, and parry THE most. honestly has some of the most iconic moments in the whole film. that squint he does at scho after “what?”? the stuff of oscars. he loved scho so much. the fact that he so desperately wanted to believe that what he was saying was true breaks my heart. genuinely such a good person. i love him. he and captain smith are husbands and dads with a bunch of idiot children

major hepburn: “well done, lad.” he’s like, an actual disney character. like his face, his voice, they just scream disney side character. like a good version of the guy from the princess and the frog. i love him so much. he’s so kind

medical officer: “i have NO idea. move along, lance corporal” I JUST LOVE HIM!!!!! he’s so cranky!!!!! get him some scissors!!!!

[agent-barnes40]

Watching The Empire Strikes back

The old sounding theme

Didn’t Mark Hamill get into an accident before filming this one?

What is up with the Dalek looking probes?

Mark Hamill looks so young.

He sounds so young.

Bruh, Luke wtf?

Y’all I fucking see it! I paused it at 4:27 and for a moment thought that Han was being played by Adam Driver. I definitely see the resemblance now.

Rip Chewie’s original actor

Wheretf is Leia?

There she is.

SPACE MOM LOOKS SO YOUNG

Rip Carrie Fisher while we’re here

Damn, Carrie talks so quietly during this scene.

Damn, Leia’s sass is amazing.

Leia hiding her feelings. Are we positive that Leia wouldn’t be an awesome Gen-Z?

Everyone walking in-between Leia and Han as they fight, iconic!

The angry “YOU COULD USE A GOOD KISS!” Sounds so much like Ben/Kylo. It’s nuts.

Above scene is at 6:27.

3P0! R2!

“OH SWITCH OFF!”

Han looks feral, that’s all I’m saying.

Han’s concern for Luke and Leia warms my heart.

“Between ourselves, I think Master Luke is in conciderable danger.”

“That’s right. My friends right out in it.”

Han, admit it, you’re attached to Luke.

“Then I’ll see you in hell.”

Damn Han.

Ya’ll I forgot that most of the “cgi” was stop motion in these first three.

The old force theme.

Rancor? Thingy is cool.

R2 willing to freeze for his Skywalker master makes me want to cry.

R2 DONT SOUND SAD!

Are we close to shoving Luke into a tauntaun yet?

The rebellion people being concerned for Leia’s worry over Luke and Han while C3P0 just walks up.

Leia closing the doors to the base and Chewie looks so sad.

I’m legit about to cry. They mimicked Chewies cry from this to put into TROS when they tell Poe, Finn and Chewie that Leia’s dead.

Shelby is joining me in my watch of Star Wars.

We’re shoving Luke into a tauntaun now!

Obi-Wan absolutely dissing Qui-Gon.

Glad to know the Tauntaun died of the cold,

Han wielding the lightsaber!

They’re so happy to have found Luke and Han

The bacta tank

Luke is like, WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED WHILE I WAS ABOUT TO GET EATEN!?

The iconic Laserbrain scene.

Chewie laughing and Han looks so betrayed.

NERF HERDER!

Have I mentioned I love Leia?

The sad look on Han’s face when Leia calls him scruffy.

Luke’s like PLEASE DONT GET ME IN THIS!

I forgot Luke and Leia kiss!

3P0 casually mentioning that it isn’t a rebellion signal

Oop, here comes Anakin “So, do you like my plan?” Vader Skywalker.

The Falcon absolutely wreaking Han.

Han and Luke silently communicating.

Vader’s egg.

Vader casually killing someone while talking.

Have I mentioned I love Leia?

The stop motion is amazing.

THE AT-AT!

3P0 casually reminding R2 to be safe.

Luke trying to save his friend

Han running back for Leia.

Han catching 3P0.

Anthony Daniel’s autotune.

The very old sounding theme.

Luke gets his dumbass traits from Anakin.

Carries scream.

Where in the hell is the scene where 3P0 rips the warning on a door?

R2 being worried about Luke.

“Take Evasive action!” Almost dies.

The scene where Han is on the pole and his ass is on display, thank god Harrison Ford got paid for that.

Leia trying to fly falcon shows that she’s a Skywalker and has that natural ability to fly.

Had to switch over to my computer.

“Never tell me the odds!”

Oof, Dagobah.

Here comes the green dwarf who drinks coke every day.

Luke’s X-wing.

R2 falling into the water

R2 scream

Yoda should show up soon.

Vader’s egg.

Anakin’s crusty head.

Han catching Leia

Leia getting pissed

Han flirting

Here comes Yoda, the coke drinker.

Yoda’s so damn high. I’m meaning weed type of high

R2 getting beat by Yoda.

You know for a fact Yoda was beating R2 because he remembers Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker’s way too damn modified Astromech.

How the fuck is Frank Oz still alive?

3P0 wants his husband.

Oop, here comes the kiss scene with Han and Leia.

Han calling Leia by her first name for the first time.

“Scoundrel?”

“I happen to like nice men.”

Finally!

Fucking 3P0!

Han looks so vulnerable.

Oop Palpatine.

Vader’s egg.

Ian McDiarmid has been playing Palpatine since 1980.

Anakin learning that Luke Skywalker is his son and having to pick between killing him and wanting to finish raising Luke. It’s quite sad actually.

R2 getting drenched scares me.

Luke hiding his distaste for Yoda’s food.

Yoda and Obi-Wan talking.

I’m gonna be honest, I hate Yoda. He’s an old man who is doesn’t want change until literally episode 8. He may have taught Luke something but Luke had to learn the way of the force by himself.

Also, Yoda scares me.

Have I mentioned that I love Leia?

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

C3P0 yelling at the Mynock.

Leia faceplanting into the Falcon.

“I am not a committee!”

I don’t like the Luke/Yoda training scene.

The only thing that I believe that Yoda taught look was to absolutely fear his connection with the force.

The whole under the tree Luke/Vader “fight” was to allude to “hey, Vader is this Anakin guy we keep talking about.”

Is that Boba I see?

The light speed fail x2.

“Shut up!”

I don’t like this Luke/Yoda training scene either.

“No! Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.”

Unpopular opinion: Palpatine should’ve killed Yoda.

The soft flute force theme.

Bruh, I forgot Han landed the Falcon on Vader’s ship.

Leia turning 3P0 off.

“He’s a card player, gambler, scoundrel. You’d like him.

“Thanks.”

You can see Anthony Daniels or his stand in breathing in the 3P0 outfit.

Boba following them.

Again, I hate each and every single Yoda/Luke training scene.

“Han. Leia!”

Yoda constantly belittling Luke’s compassion for his friends that he sees as his family. This is why I don’t like Yoda.

The landing on cloud city.

I forgot how much Cloud city looks like Corucant.

Lando Calrissian

Han pointing to himself, *me?*

Lando Calrissian.

“What have you done to my ship?”

“Your ship? Hey, remember, you lost her to me fair and square.”

They are literal children and I love it.

Lando immediately flirting.

Also, what the fuck was George Lucas thinking on letting 5ft something men get chest to chest with Carrie and try to intimidate her with their height whilst trying to flirt with her?

Wtf was he thinking! Carrie Fisher is 4ft something and I feel bad for her.

“She’s the fastest hunk of junk in the galaxy.”

Chewie going to look for C3P0.

The soft force theme.

The force theme turning to the imperial march.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, you let 12-year old Ahsoka Tano on a battlefield with Anakin fucking Skywalker, the man who stared General Grevious in the face and basically told him to fuck off, and you’re not letting Anakin’s literal son go save his sister and future brother in law! So shut the fuck up dead guy and let Luke save his friends.

Yoda can go die for all I care. I forgot how much of an asshole he is.

God, I fucking hate Yoda.

Leia’s Bespin outfit.

Leia worried over 3P0 is the sweetest thing. This shows just how great of a mom she’ll be.

“I don’t trust Lando.”

Have I said that I appreciate how pretty Harrison Ford is?

Yo! Mandalorian!

Also, chewie finding C3P0!

Leia covering her body when she realizes Lando is watching her is something I thought I’d never relate to but whelp, here we are.

Lando Calrissian is very creepy actually in how he treats Leia every chance he can get.

Han’s ready to punch him.

“Would you join me for a refreshment?”

“No!” I never realized how protective Chewie is of Leia until this scene. Chewbacca immediately is ready to rip Lando apart.

“Having a problem with your droid?”

Han immediately realizes how vulnerable Leia can get when C3P0 is involved and when people she’s intimidated by. Han drew away Lando’s attention on 3P0 to him.

Han drank his appreciating women juice.

Is Boba wearing a death watch thingy on his shoulder?

Leia looks so damn scared.

Han grabbing Leia’s hand tighter to protect her.

Chewie trying to work on C3P0.

The imperial march.

Han’s super pale. “I feel terrible.”

Leia’s vulnerable and even though Han’s hurting he jumps in to protect her and how angry Leia gets, that’s when everyone knows that Leia’s feeling and anger is her protection emotion.

Honestly, I’m ready to skip the rest of Lando’s scenes.

Carbonite.

Okay so when Vader tells the Troopers to put Han into the carbon freezer, Chewbacca attacks, if you notice, Vader just lets him. It’s not because, “hey let’s not anger the Wookiee more.” It’s because according to a scene in The Clone Wars animated TV show, Chewbacca saved Anakin’s padawan, Ahsoka. I like to think Vader was finally paying his debt to the Shriwook for saving Ahsoka.

Han calming down Chewie by telling him to look after Leia.

Han and Leia’s second kiss

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Leia looks so damn sad and scared.

Chewie literally pulling Leia into his body to try and lessen the pain she was in.

The fact that Luke doesn’t realize that it’s Han.

Luke slowly realizing that he didn’t see Han with Leia and Chewie.

The only lightsaber fight between Luke and a Vader that I remember.

I’m not gonna comment on Chewie chocking Lando.

That force jump.

The biggest plot twist in cinematic history, according to the Internet, is about to happen.

R2 getting electrocuted

R2 going to fix his husband.

Oop, Luke’s hands about to get cut off.

Mark Hamill’s scream.

“Luke, there is no escape. Don’t make me destroy you. Luke, you do not yet realize your importance. You have only begun to discover your power. Join me, and I will complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy.”

“I’ll never join you!”

“If you only knew the power of the dark side. Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father.”

“He told me enough. He told me you killed him.”

“No. I am your father.”

“No, no, that’s not true. That’s impossible!”

“Search your feelings. You know it to be true.”

The iconic “Noooo.”

“Luke. You can destroy the emperor. He has foreseen this. It is your destiny. Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son. Come with me. It is the only way.”

Skywalker men are such idiots and always are so dramatic.

The poor film editor, having to make it look like Luke is falling and is just playing with the footage they got of Mark Hamill writhing around.

And here we see just how powerful Leia and Luke are.

“Leia. Hear me. Leia”

“Luke.”

Luke’s just swinging his legs.

Light speed fail x3

“Luke.”

“Father.”

“Come with me.”

“Ben. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Luke, it’s your destiny.”

Mark Hamill is such a talented actor

Welp, Anakin’s gonna kill everyone.

“May the Force be with you.”

Luke’s fake hand.

The chills I get during the ending music.

And that was The Empire Strikes Back. All in all a good classic.

[mithranqueersmusings]

Here, There and Everywhere II

Chapter: 2/?

Rating: U

Summary:  You're a regular to The Cavern and you've always loved watching The Beatles play, even if you do have to deal with sweaty crowds, screaming girls and pervy guys. One day under rather unfortunate circumstances, you finally get to meet them which eventually, and oddly, leads to them living with you.

Tags: Domestic fluff, slow burn, eventual smut/romance

Pairings: George Harrison/Reader

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

You rooted around in your kitchen cupboard for some brandy, eventually finding an old bottle at the back which was almost full. You put it on the table with five glasses and sat down, Paul and Ringo sat down too but John and George scoped around the kitchen curiously. You poured some brandy into each of the glasses and passed them around the table. Eventually the other two boys sat down and everyone looked pretty comfortable which made you very happy.

"So what do you do for work, if you don't mind me asking." Ringo asked, he was sat nearest to you on your left and had already finished half of his drink.

"I'm a secretary. Not very exciting, I know, but I have to pay the bills somehow." You said, taking a sip of your drink and remembering exactly why you never drank brandy.

"You run the whole house on your own then?" Paul asked, he too was making his way through the drink quickly "Must be pretty lonely."

"Yeah, it can be. It's nice to have the kitchen so full again." You smiled at Paul who beamed back "Where do you guys live?"

There was a silence, each of the boys looked at each other rather awkwardly and you worried you'd asked something completely taboo. You were about to change the subject before George spoke up.

"It's complicated really. We don't really have a permanent residence, so to speak." George explained and the others nodded.

"We live in a cupboard." John said bluntly then laughed to himself once more.

"Don't be dramatic." Paul scolded with a smile "The deal we have with the club isn't great, we basically all share this tiny room between the four of us."

"It's not what you call ideal." Ringo said and your heart sank.

"Especially if you have to share a room with this one." John said as he gave Ringo a light shove "He snores like a bloody air raid siren!"

The mood was immediately lightened by John, something you figured he did quite often, and everyone was laughing and drinking again. The brandy bottle grew emptier and emptier as you all got drunker and drunker, eventually moving into the living room to sit on the sofas; you sat between George and Paul, while John sat in the armchair and Ringo sat on the floor - you tried to get him to swap with you but he insisted. Eventually the clock struck three and the boys all looked at each other, none of them realising what time it was.

"Bloody hell, is that the time?" Paul said as he looked at his watch "We best be getting back, we don't wanna get locked out again."

Quickly the boys got up and began gathering their things, and something in your chest felt heavy as you thought about being left alone in this house for yet another night, you'd feel especially lonely after enjoying the boys' company for so long.

"Wait!" You blurted out, more urgently than you intended, as John began putting on his shoes "Why don't you spend the night here?"

The boys all shared a look and you hated that they all seemed to be able to communicate without words in a way you couldn't understand. They all stood frozen, John still with one foot in the air as he pulled his boot on.

"You sure?" George asked.

"It's not just the brandy talking is it?" Ringo chuckled, he had stopped putting his shoes on.

"Well, maybe it is. It's just- I've got room, and I hate to think I'm sending you all away to go and sleep in a fucking cupboard." You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly.

"You were the one that was meant to be thanking us, but I think the situations gone a bit topsy-turvy now." Paul smiled, taking off his coat again and hanging it up "We really don't want to impose."

"You're not, honestly. There's only two double beds so you'll have to share unless you want to sleep on the floor." You explained as you realised you hadn't thought this through as well as you should've.

"And where will you be sleeping?" John asked with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

"On the sofa, it's quite comfy really." You began to think about the state your room was in.

"Well I'm not sharing with Ringo." George said quickly "I've had enough of that racket. You should take the sofa."

Ringo scrunched up his face "Why don't you take the sofa since you're so quick to decide!"

"Cause my nose isn't faulty." George retorted, they both seemed quite serious but you could tell they were joking.

"Fine, I'll be the bigger person." Ringo said, realising the mistake he'd made immediately.

"That'd be a first." John chuckled, standing on his tip toes so that he towered over Ringo even more.

"Me and John can share one bed." Paul said "I don't wanna risk George punching me in his sleep again."

"That was one time, but whatever." George rolled his eyes "You probably deserved it anyway."

"Well if you want to take the bed George I'll sleep on the floor." You started to feel nervous as the reality of these four almost strangers sleeping in your house began to sink in.

"The floor? What do you take me for?" George scoffed "I'm not about to muscle into your bed and kick you onto the floor."

"Muscle?" Paul asked laughing, John and Ringo chuckling quietly as George shot him a playful glare.

"I can't put you on the floor, though." You felt your face getting a little hot; you really didn't want to be sharing a bed with George but you had a feeling he was going to be adamant about you not being on the floor.

"Here's a crazy idea guys." John stepped closer to the two of you "Double means two right? And there's one, two of you. Now I'm not too great at the old mathematics, but I think you might be able to share the bed between you." He put a finger on his chin and looked to the ceiling to feign being deep in thought.

Your face grew even redder at this and you looked at George to see him looking right back at you with a slight blush on his cheeks. John was looking at the both of you now, dramatically turning his head to face either one of you as he waited for a response.

"I mean, I'm fine with it if you are. I really don't mind sleeping on the floor." George finally broke the silence and looked at you with what you thought might be a hopeful look.

"No, no, it's fine. I just didn't know if you'd be fine with it." You tried to remain as composed as possible.

"Great, we can all die happy." Paul said sarcastically "Now let's get to bed, shall we?"

"Oh I've got some pyjamas you guys can wear if you want. They were my Dad's so they'll be quite baggy but if you don't wanna sleep in your clothes, the offer is there." You felt yourself returning to normality. You never got round to sorting through all your parents things, it hadn't been that long since they had passed, and you couldn't ever bring yourself to throwing their stuff out while you still had the space to keep it. Your dad was a pretty big man and only ever wore T-shirts and baggy trousers in his old age so they'd make perfect pyjamas for the boys.

"None for Ringo." John started "He sleeps in the nip." He whispered the final words, covering his mouth obviously and winking.

"Hey! I wasn't about to sleep naked on her bloody sofa now was I?" Ringo smacked John on the shoulder who just laughed.

"I dunno, were you?" George laughed.

"I'll take some pyjamas please." Paul spoke quickly before another silly argument began "We all will, won't we lads?"

They all nodded and made small noises "Alright, I'll go and grab them and sort the beds out. I won't be a minute." You smiled and rushed up the stairs, leaving the boys in the hall.

You didn't come into your parents' old room very often and you didn't need to do much to get it ready for Paul and John. You rooted through your Dad's old clothes and pulled out four loose shirts and trousers, folding two piles neatly on the bed and taking the others back downstairs with you. The boys were all still in the hall with Ringo standing by the living room door, no doubt he was sizing up his sleeping arrangement for the night, they all seemed very relaxed and smiled up at you as you came down the stairs.

"I've left two pairs on the bed in there." You said gesturing to your parents' room "And here's one for you Ringo." You passed him the clothes and he accepted them happily "And for you George." As you passed the clothes to him your hands brushed which sent a shudder down your spine which you managed to suppress.

Ringo held the clothes out in front of him "Blimey, your dad must've been huge." He said more to himself than anyone else.

You laughed "Yeah, he liked his food that's for sure. They're kinda raggedy but I hope they'll do just for sleeping in."

"I'm sure they're fine." Paul smiled "Well we best be heading to bed."

Paul and John started heading up the stairs "G'night all." Paul said while John simply held up his hand as they vanished into the room.

Ringo walked into the living room and you followed him "There's blankets and stuff in that ottomon, so help yourself." You said as Ringo plopped himself down on the sofa.

"Alrighty, thanks a bunch." He smiled widely "You're a real doll. Good night."

"Night." You smiled back and walked into the hall to find George still standing there, fiddling with the clothes you'd handed him. Closing the living room door behind you, you suddenly realised how alone you and George were and how alone you'd be in your room; you weren't entirely sure how comfortable you were with it. George seemed to be feeling the same way and gave you a weak smile when your eyes meet.

"Shall we?" You said, trying to hide your awkwardness as you began heading up the stairs to your room "My room's a bit of a state right now so I'm sorry. It's usually a lot cleaner when-"

"When you invite bands to sleep at your house?" George joked bluntly and you paused for a second before laughing, it was hard to tell sometimes whether he was kidding or not.

"Yes, exactly." You chuckled as you walked into your room, immediately kicking the piles of dirty clothes into the corner and straightening up anything you could. George followed you slowly and looked around your room curiously.

"Nice room." He said simply, not walking in much further from the door as he wasn't quite sure what to do with himself.

You'd taken people home with you before of course, but this wasn't like that. If this was a regular one night stand you'd be far drunker, the lights would be off and soon would both of your clothes without much grace or shame. But this wasn't like that, you weren't even sure what this was. You straightened the bed covers as best you could and looked for a clean pair of pyjamas in your wardrobe. While you did that, George walked a little further into the room and sat down on the bed, something told you he was having the exact same thoughts as you and had no idea what to do or say.

"I really don't mind taking the floor." George said softly and you almost didn't hear him.

You turned around holding some clean pyjamas "Don't be silly George, it's such a tip anyway I don't think there's any space for you." You tried to lighten the mood and you both smiled at each other.

You put the clothes down on the bed while you sorted a few things out in the room, you know George probably didn't care but you couldn't help feeling embarrassed about the mess. George didn't move from the bed, continuing to fiddle with the clothes when you realised he wasn't going to get dressed in front of you.

"I'll just-" George looked up at you quickly and his intense stare stopped you in your tracks "I'll go get changed in the bathroom, I'll be back." You felt awkward again as you left the room in a hurry, heading to the bathroom.

You shut the door behind you and let out a heavy sigh, resting against the sink then turning around to look at yourself in the mirror. Your face was a little red and you couldn't figure out if it was because of the brandy or the embarrassment. What were you doing? Inviting them into your house was one thing, it was understandable, letting them stay the night was another, it was bordering on strange, and sharing a bed with a man you barely knew but had also idolised for a long time was a whole other thing entirely, it was madness. So why don't you just let him sleep on the floor, you asked yourself, and you had to admit to yourself that you wanted to share a bed with him, even if it didn't really mean anything. You let out another deep breath and decided to just carry on with the plan so you started getting out of your clothes. As you undressed you checked yourself out in the mirror as best you could and couldn't help feeling a little self conscious; you began thinking that you didn't have to worry about any of the boys getting the wrong idea because there was no way they could be attracted to you. Deep in thought, you didn't notice the bathroom door opening and an unknowing George poking his head round only to see you standing completely naked in front of him. He shut the door as quickly as possible and startled you, and you covered yourself up even though it was too late.

"Fuck, I'm so sorry." George spoke through the door "You left your clothes on your bed, so I thought I'd bring them to you." You could hear the embarrassment in his voice but you were certain he didn't feel as bad as you did.

"Oh." Was all you managed to say as you moved closer to the door.

"I'll just leave them outside. Again, I'm really sorry." He was silent for a moment but you could tell he was still there "Please don't think I did that on purpose."

You heard his footsteps walking back into your bedroom and when you figured the coast was clear you opened the door slightly and grabbed the clothes as quick as you could. You got dressed quickly too but then stood looking into the mirror again, unsure how easy it was going to be to walk back into that room. Surely George would just go straight to sleep, that was the only solution you could see for what just happened. You gripped onto the edge of the sink tightly and steeled yourself before walking back into your bedroom. To your dismay, George was not asleep, he was lying on top of the cover in the clothes you'd given him just staring off into space. When he noticed you a sad expression spread over his face subtly and you weren't sure what to say. The clothes he was wearing now really accentuated how skinny he was, he looked tiny in the baggy clothes and you were so jealous of his slim figure. You weren't purposefully looking at him like this, and you hadn't thought that George would be able to see you looking at him in such a way.

"Just cause I saw you naked doesn't mean you have to try and imagine me in the nude." George was blunt once again, and this time you really weren't sure whether he was joking or not.

You stayed rooted to the floor by your door "I-I wasn't." You spluttered out.

"Silly me, you must've been admiring the material of these lovely trousers." His tone lightened and you relaxed, taking a few step closer but still not settling on the bed.

"I don't want this to be weird." You said finally, fiddling with a loose strand of hair.

"What's weird? I saved you from a perv at the club, you take me and my mates back to yours for a drink, you invite us to stay the night and I walk in on you completely naked! What's so weird about that?" George raised an eyebrow and you laughed "Do I wish that what just happened never happened? Yes. Do I now have the image of your naked body in my brain? Yes. Am I now conflicted about sharing a bed with you? Maybe. Am I still going to share a bed with you?" He didn't answer his question, and raised an eyebrow as he waited for you to respond.

"Yes?" You answered sheepishly, unsure what the right thing was to say.

"Yes it is then." He chuckled as he jumped under the covers quickly, pulling the covers off so that you could climb in but you still hesitated "Oh, come on. Am I gonna have to strip down to make you feel better?" You paused again, George was so impossible to read sometimes.

You both looked at one another, neither one sure exactly what the vibe in the room was. Surely he was joking, right? But what if he wasn't joking and you were going to miss an opportunity that might never come around again? Even worse, what if he was joking and you made things painfully awkward by assuming he wasn't? The silence was heavy in the room and it felt like it would never end, both of you still looking into each other's eyes until George finally got up.

"Fine! If that's what it'll take to get you to loosen up." George said calmly as he already began taking off his shirt.

"No, no, no, don't be ridiculous." You said but even you didn't believe the words.

"It's no big deal, I have to get naked in front of the lads all the time. All of us crammed into that tiny room, there's no space left for dignity." He winked at you "If I've seen you starkers it's only fair. But I'm warning you, don't fall in love with me when you see me naked because that'd just make things awkward."

You let out an awkward chuckle as you worried you might already be going against George's words. He got undressed quickly, not making a show of it at all as though it really meant nothing to him. He was slim, as you already knew, but he wasn't scrawny by any means, there was the promises of abs on his stomach and his biceps looked strong; his legs were thin and you cursed him for having better legs than you.

"Now, I only saw you for a second, so you only get to see me and him for a second." George said as his thumbs dipped into the waistband of his boxers. You gulped, part of you wanting to laugh at the playfulness of it all and the other part just wanting to melt in a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. He pulled his boxers down for a few seconds and you wanted to look away, to laugh it all off, but you couldn't. He was pretty big, surprisingly with how slender he was, and before you could even think of something funny to say to break the tension he was already putting his clothes back on.

"Normally I'd charge for that." George chuckled as he slid back into the shirt and into bed, patting the space beside him enthusiastically.

You rushed into bed as you couldn't bear to have him looking at you with those eyes anymore and you figured if you didn't move now you'd be stuck in that spot all night. George laughed as you hurried under the covers and how you held them so high on your chest as if you worried he could see through your clothes.

"Look, if Paul and John can share a bed I'm sure we can manage it. Alright?" His words were jokey but his tone was sweet and something about the way he looked at you now made your heart beat a little faster.

"Yeah, of course. Sorry for being weird, think it was just the shock." You forced yourself to return to normality.

"Shock? I know I'm big but I don't know i-" George stopped when you hit him lightly on the arm and you both laughed together "Jokes aside, thanks a lot for taking us in tonight. I'm getting pretty used to that dingy, old room so it's nice to come back to normality."

"It's no trouble, really. I know I don't really know you guys but watching you play so often, I feel like I do. I'd like to say it's not just because I'm lonely here but I know that's partly to do with it, but spending time with you all has made me feel really happy, so I want that to last a little bit longer." You hadn't meant to take things to a sad place but you wanted to tell the truth, you felt like George wasn't going to judge you for it. When you finished speaking he put his hand onto yours and squeezed it comfortingly, which removed any doubt you had in your mind.

"Maybe I should make a habit of rescuing pretty girls." George let go off your hand but your face only got redder with this comment, you usually weren't so awkward with men but you'd never been in a situation like this before.

"Pretty, you say?" You raised an eyebrow jokingly.

"I do say." George chuckled, turning his body to face you "Do my words offend you, madam?"

"I suppose not." You relaxed more into the bed "I'd prefer beautiful or gorgeous, but I'll take it."

"I'm afraid I can't brand you gorgeous until I see you naked for at least 7 seconds, I'm afraid you clocked in at about 6.25." His smile widened and you could clearly see his sharp canines poking through, you'd never really noticed them before.

"Counting, were you?"

"I take my naked women very seriously."

"Really? Not from behind?" George was a little stunned by your blunt joke and his face was shocked for a second but his grin soon returned, and you began to realise how much you liked the look of his sharp teeth.

"Depends if they ask nicely or not."

"Nicely? I thought your name was George." You laughed at your own joke, knowing how stupid it was but you just couldn't resist.

"And I thought you had a sense of humour." George retorted, settling more into his position in the bed.

When you both finished laughing you just looked at one another for a few seconds, even though the atmosphere was definitely more relaxed it was still pretty elusive. It really could go either way, you felt, and you just wish you knew what was going on in George's head.

[acearchivist359]

My Rise of Skywalker Opinions/Commentary

this is mostly for me but and for my other blog (not on tumblr) but I thought I’d post it here too cause why not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ happy Star Ways Day fellow humans, may the force be with you 

   Okay so here's something I have a lot of opinions about. I'm gonna have to say right off the bat, I didn't like Rise of Skywalker. Being said though, I didn't hate it as much as I thought I would. I've seen it twice by now, I wrote my notes having seen it once, I've had lengthy debates about it with multiple people ranging from one of my parent's friends to one of my best friends to my little brother. I saw it like the day after it came out, I wrote my notes on January 1st, so I've sat with this for awhile and I'd sat with the movie before I wrote them. I kinda forgot about it all for a bit cause I blocked it out of my head and then I thought it might be too late to post it but I put a lot of, frankly chaotic, effort into my notes and I figured when it came on Disney+ people might start talking about it again so here we are.  Now I'm still using my original notes, which I added to after seeing it the second time, cause I have no desire to watch this movie again. I really don't. I honestly wouldn't have even seen it twice but I had told my grandma I'd go with her cause she loves Star Wars and she had no one to go with. My grandma loved it, but my grandma loves them all "because it's Star Wars." My mom also saw it and liked it, she's only seen the originals though and had no idea what was going on. I, on the other hand, spent a lot of time hitting myself in the head (the first time round) and there was a few occasions where I honestly said "what the fuck??" out loud in the theatre.  So one more thing I have to note, I feel the same way about the whole trilogy I don't really like any of them and I never did. But I'm not entirely just looking at this as one movie, a lot of what I've got to say looks at this as the end of the "Skywalker Saga" cause that’s what it is. I also have some things that go back through the entire trilogy but this is mainly based around TROS since it's the most recent and I refuse to watch the others to make notes on them. Also, I'm aware of the problem they had with the whole George Lucas vs. Rian Johnson thing and how they wrote them separately, however I'm still gonna call them out on things they should have done to tie things together from the beginning cause that was a really dumb way to do things anyway. Plus like I said I'm looking more big picture on a lot of things (mostly cause there's major plotlines that I hated). One of these days, I'll make a positive review but it won't be about the sequel trilogy, I'll tell you that much.  With all that said, I vote that I get on with this. Just for reference though, none of this is in chronological order. There are some things I did like about this movie, I will give it that, so I feel like we should start there. Small Positive Things:

The first thing I put in my notes is just "Finn and Poe" and honestly that's still a mood. I really liked them in this one and I really saw why people ship them.

The next point in my notes just says "death star" which boils down to two different things: the aesthetic and the Imperial March

I know I said positive things but I didn't think of it in my notes and I need to address this. You're telling me that the Death Star exploded but there's still that big of a piece in tact??? But whatever not the point.

The aesthetic: vague continuity thing aside, I fucking love the Death Star in this I really do. It looks awesome. It's really cool to see this broken down, abandoned version of the Death Star. I loved the Stormtrooper helmets scattered on the ground, for some reason that part really stuck in my head. Being said though I generally love the old Stormtrooper helmets, the First Order ones just don't do it for me, but seeing them scattered around.. Idk it was a nice touch I think

Imperial March: so like the Imperial March is the shit, obviously, but that soft, subtle hint of it in that scene as Rey steps into the throne room is one of the only parts of that movie that made me hit my brother's arm in excitement (we do that at the movies, it's our thing). It reminds me of that thing they do in Clone Wars when Anakin does something just a little Darth Vader.

Right so the next thing I had was that part where Kylo Ren finds Palpatine and he      switches from his voice to Snoke's to Darth Vader's.

It was a little thing but I liked it a lot. As far as having to tie it all together, the idea that it was actually Palpatine manipulating Ren wasn't so bad. (That being said the       whole how Palpatine is around thing is pretty far fetched, but they tried.)

My next thing, and this I actually laughed at as opposed to like confused laughter, is the part where they get back from their little mission to find the map to whatever the place was called and Threepio introduces himself to Artoo and Artoo literally does a double take and backs up like "what the fuck??? " That was such a human expression for a robot, it was hilarious. Also Threepio being like "You're not messing with my head!" *cuts to Artoo messing with Threepio's head* Basically anything Artoo cause I love him.

Again tiny random thing, but the Jet Troopers and the Sith Troopers were really cool. Me and my brother quote the "they fly now??" "they fly now!" part all the time. Also just like red Stormtroopers..

So here's a thing that gave me feelings. (I'd like to just point out that this is one of the      only things that gave me feelings and it's about to be clear why.) Chewie finding out Leia died. That hurt my heart. I knew that they couldn't possibly go through that movie without having Leia die, and I said this before the movie ever came out. What I said before was that they really had two options: they could have Leia die off screen which would have been disrespectful to both Carrie Fisher and Leia or she could just sorta disappear which would have also been bad. However they gave her the death scene she deserved. I mean sort of, jury's out on it really. But Chewie making sad noises and falling to his knees hurt me. Similarly Artoo beeping at her sadly made me weepy. (The Anakin in me really jumps out whenever Artoo comes up but like I love him)

I honestly have nothing else to say for this point besides: I can't believe Harrison      Ford agreed to do that

I just wanna touch on Poe again cause he was always my favourite of the new characters, I wasn't really  connected with any of them (which is so uncommon for me) but Poe was my favourite cause he was funny. He was really good in this one, I thought he was funny, again him and Finn had a brilliant thing going. For whatever      reason this one made me appreciate Poe more.

I have some (general) grievances to air out now

I have to say one thing that really irks me about this trilogy is that none of the original characters reunite. The exception of which being everyone and Chewie. Also are we counting Luke and Leia's? I guess in the end they end up reunited in the force in the end either way but still. I mean really Han and Leia have their scene together, and I love that scene, but other than that nothing. No Han and Lando, no Han and Luke reunion. Han and Luke is the one that bothers me though cause them and Leia are the trio and Han and Luke are the only ones that don't reunite. We never see Leia and Lando together on screen either. It's a crime.

I don't know how I feel about Hux being the spy. I feel like it was just kinda lame, you know? Pretty predictable when you think about it, would have been cooler if he wasn't the spy. Seemed like it was just comic relief when it should have been a plot point.

I think it would have been cool if there were more Jedi in the final scene. Like all those Jedi voices spoke to Rey, but only Luke and Leia are there at the end? I get the symbolism with the lightsabers and Luke's place and all that, but still. Like at least, you know, Obi Wan or Anakin. This is one of those full circle things but still, I think it would have been a cool scene.

Okay so this is just me being petty but like I don't care it bothers me. The fact that they keep acting like the lightsaber Rey has is Luke's when it's actually Anakin's bothers me. I know it's a little thing and Not Important but it's dumb. Cause it's not Luke's lightsaber, Luke made his own later on.

Also the fact that they started calling it Rey's lightsaber annoys me so much for the       same reason. She has her own lightsaber now, leave Anakin's alone.

Okay so, we have reached the point where I start talking about things a bit more, bear with me (if people even bother to read this at all idc this is mostly just for me to rant and stuff):

So like look, I'll be the first to say not a Kylo Ren fan. He had potential, I will give him that, and that's where I'm going with this. The other movies had him as this whiny, try hard, Darth Vader wannabe and I just really didn't vibe with that. I mean this is the first real villian since Darth Vader (not counting palpsy during the prequels cause he was just behind the scenes and every movie had a different Bad Guy) and he throws a temper tantrum. Those stormtroopers were hilarious but still. But anyway, did not expect to come out of this movie having wished Kylo Ren was in it more. If they had had him be the way he was in this one the whole time, I might have actually liked him. He did some cool stuff for once in this one so let's discuss that:

I talk about things being full circle a lot (but with movies as nostalgic as Star Wars there should be full circle, fight me) but him fighting with Anakin's lightsaber was very full circle

I do like that it was Leia's death that triggered his return to the light side (I mean I'll get into some things about that later) as opposed to some romance bullshit with Rey. I really don't ship them, like at all, and I think it makes it more compelling that it was his mother's death instead.

He did some cool shit at the beginning, that fight scene was cool. I like the part where he slams the guy down on the ground, don't ask me why I have no idea. I saw it in the trailer and I liked it.

The Han Solo in him really jumped out in the end there and it was really entertaining

The fight with the Knights of Ren was really cool (besides that one jump thing he       did cause I see where they were going with it but it just didn't look as good)

What was definitely cool is the part where he pulls the lightsaber out from behind his back, that was a cool move

Alright so here's my thing and this is gonna make me sound bad probably but like as already established, I don't really like the new characters as much. I just didn't connect with them on the same level as the past trilogies characters, which is fine it's whatever. But I am just gonna say it, I don't really like Rey. But here's my thing, I've always been indifferent towards her but like not really caring either was but there are some things she did in this one that just.. bothered me so this being my platform I'm gonna talk about it.

So the thing with Star Wars movies for me and most people is the family feel right. But like Rey just goes off on her own and ditches Finn, Poe, Chewie and Threepio all the time and like I get that she's sensing something or she wants to get to the death star but she could say something instead of just.. disappearing

Okay so here's another thing, and I know they wanted to find a way to tie it back to the originals but….. a Palpatine?? There are so many other characters they could have gone with but it's like they just wanted to do the 'watch the light side defeat the dark side' thing in as many ways as possible in one movie (Which I'll talk more about later)

Alright so here's my last solely Rey related point and like I don't know where people stand on this cause they seem to either love it or hate it. But Rey Skywalker?? Here's my thing, I've a really hard time getting past the Palpatine thing on that one. But also is that supposed to be the Rise of Skywalker? Because I don't know that I consider that to be rising for her.

Alright, on the topic of the light side vs. dark side thing. Yes I am aware that this is a fundamental part of Star Wars and always has been. However they did it in two      different ways in the same movie. Here's the thing I don't like Rey or Kylo Ren over each other, I have the same level of indifference with both of them. So this isn't me being a Ben Solo stan, promise cause I could not possibly care less if they bring him back, I'm not gonna fight them on it. But the storyline of him overcoming the dark side, would have been more interesting to me. Because I knew Rey wasn't gonna go to the dark side, this is Star Wars. But I wish we could have seen Kylo/Ben struggle with the dark side vs the light side more. I mean they gave us such a good look at it with Anakin, we watched him struggle and fall. That to me would have been rising.

Not to mention Palpsy literally just tries to use the same trick on Rey that he       already tried to use on Luke. That's not full circle, that's Palps being dumb.

Okay, now for the full circle nonsense I keep talking about. The thing with this is that it probably would have been the things you do over two movies and not just the one but just cause they didn't write them that way doesn't mean I can't imagine it.

For one thing, I'd have had Ben kill Palpatine.

Hear me out: Palps himself refers to Ben as the "Last of the Skywalkers" and given that Palpatine is the reason behind all the Skywalker drama from the beginning. With that being said, having the last of the Skywalkers kill Palpatine and thus end his insane, saga long reign over the universe would have been amazing

Not to mention this would be finishing what his grandfather started which was his thing the whole time. Anakin tried to kill Palpatine at the end, and having the last Skywalker, the last of Anakin's blood genuinely finish what he started would have brought the whole thing to an end

Along the same lines as that, the power the all of the Jedi scene would have in that case (and I'm saying this like he was good for more than the last 10 minutes of the movie) been so much more powerful. To have him hear Anakin's voice, like he always wanted but guiding him towards the light instead. Not to mention his mother.

And also, small thing but on the topic of finishing what Anakin started and all that but his grandson, the last of his blood (I'm gonna keep using that) using his lightsaber, the very one he had when he first fell to the dark side, to kill Palpatine once and for all would have been one of those full circle moments that I expected the movie to have more of.

 SO yeah that's everything, all my thoughts and feelings. This literally took me forever to finish. It's been like 5 months but it's Star Wars Day (May the Fourth be with You!) so I had to cram to get it done or I'd die. Plus once it started to get away from when the movie actually came out, I figured I'd wait for it to come out on Disney+ and it has so here we are. I'm glad to be done with this and get it all out cause I honestly just don't care for that movie. I'd rather watch Clone Wars (the finale was soooo good).  Anyways, peace out and may the force be with you, always!  -Moony

[nigelgodrichproducer]

Fantastic 2018 Interview with Four Tet

https://www.mixcloud.com/GrooveArchives/2018-11-17-four-tet-gilles-peterson-worldwide/

Late last year, Nigel appeared on radio with the great Four Tet, filling in for Gilles Peterson, offering some perspective on various records he’s produced. It’s a fantastic listen and touches almost every era of Nigel’s career. A lot of philosophical musings about the nature of recording. A transcript of relevant bits:

Radiohead - Codex

The most important thing about that track is the song and his performance. I'm Thom Yorke's biggest fan and I just want him to sound amazing so I endeavor to have that kind of elevated quality just in terms of what he's singing and the way that he sounds. But then also the challenge with that is to take something that's just piano and vocal and give it that kind of metaphysical kind of expansive quality. And that's exactly what I, like, try to do.

But it's really very simple. It's an 808 and a guy playing a piano and singing and then beyond that it's about...for me, and what I respond to most - everything is about emotional responses and what certain kinds of tones and qualities make you feel. You know, the sound of his voice and the way that you frame it. It's very nerdy but you know, the quality of the reverb. The way that you kind of use those things to throw things into very visual spaces. Just that alone is very powerful.

Gotta remember as well it's in the context of that whole record which was a very very convoluted process and we were in Drew Barrymore's living room in Los Angeles. It's just Thom and I and it's like we've got all these songs - well, we didn't have very many songs at all. Drew very kindly allowed us to...This house was amazing. It was like everyone had stayed there. The Beatles stayed there. I think Hendrix was there. You know it's one of those Hollywood houses that was part of The Brat Pack's kind of...you know a really amazing place. We actually found a picture of George Harrison holding the Yellow Submarine in a tub. Very kind of Hollywood vibrations of all this stuff were there. Anyway, we were there trying to record the songs that we did have. There really weren't that many. To try and sort of spontaneously create music in the air and there was a lot of jamming. And out of those sessions, very very little came out. I mean, but [Codex] was like the cherry that came out of this. The best moment in that song is when he opens his mouth. It's just like your jaw drops. That's his skill. That's this gift that he has. It's alarming.

[Codex] is more than one take. Sorry to burst your bubble, there's a lot of Excel spreadsheet in there. But there's also...the other thing that I would say is that's sort of indicative and that's sort of a rationalization of our relationship; one of the first things that ever struck me about Thom was...you'll walk into a backroom and he'll be sitting there playing through something like singing his heart out to no one. It's on or off.

Radiohead - Desert Island Disk

Honestly I feel like I understand what we're capable of ingesting and I think that really simplicity is the most important thing. And it's not how many things you throw together, it's what those individual things are doing. And I've been given this...previously, I'd come across, shall we say, the multitrack to "Space Oddity" by David Bowie which is an eight-track recording by Gus Dudgen, this very famous producer. The whole song is on eight tracks and it's so beautifully recorded and you know, one track has, like, bass and drums on it. Just solo it and it just sounds amazing. It reminded me of a lot of things that I'd forgotten, that I was taught to do when I was starting engineering, you know like making decisions and committing to things. You really get something organic and alive by reducing your...to keep it really really simple, I was like, "Okay, this is what we're gonna do. We're gonna do eight track recordings," because I was just so excited about the concept of  just keeping it down to eight tracks. So we started A Moon Shaped Pool and we did about a month like that. And that's what [Desert Island Disk] is. It's on eight-track, it's just an eight-track recording. It's really simple. About sixty percent of that album is like that.

The point I'm making is that if you start...it's quite a weird place to start from because you're artificially imposing this restriction, but it actually pays massive dividends because...technically again, it's very very simple, but the important thing is to think about what is going down and that's it.

Travis - Driftwood

It's just like this amazing pop song, really. Again it always comes down to the song and you know, Fran's charisma that speaks out through all of this stuff. The penny that really dropped was the guitar riff. That big sort of echoe-y guitar.It's almost like wall-of-sound-y, sort of washes over you. And that was something that happened within the room. It was all recorded in a day, but Fran had the song. He could sit there and play it on acoustic guitar. So it was more like trying to find a formula to make this thing really translate and be sort of something that was uplifting.

The bottom line is don't delude yourself into thinking that you're doing anything other than framing a song and a singer. That's the thing that really should translate.

[on thinking about trends] Absolutely not. Not at all...We were talking a minute ago about influences, that's absolutely true but I feel like we're sort of imprinted with those feelings that we have. Memories - sound memories. The things that we know that press our buttons. Those things I try and regurgitate because I know that they work or how they make me feel. Especially with like effects and stuff, reverb. It's very visual, I always think of things as very visual. So you're trying to make something seem artificially big by putting an effect on a guitar. But it's also...we love distortion. Human beings love distortion because it apes the feeling of being in a room with something louder than it should be and that's what our ears naturally do. They distort. So if you hear something even quiet that's distorted, it makes you have that kind of...it's exciting. It's got something in it. And I think there's a lot of dirt in that track [Driftwood], ironically for a pop record. It's quite a dirty...

[talking about The Byrds and distortion on their records] That's not technical excellence, it's technical shortcomings but it's like you push it until you feel like it's working. It's like a beautiful pop song. And that's what I think is the strength of it. Fran is a very honest translator. He speaks and it's really coming from the heart and that's what's powerful about what he does.

Serge Gainsbourg - Melody Nelson

I think it's kind of a hipster reference point, generally for a lot of people, but yeah, Serge was an arranger. He would sit at the piano and he orchestrated all that stuff. But the end result is this drum and bass jam with these crazy strings like you've never heard. Again it's about this perspective, it's something very visual. A string section is like a massive massive space with a lot of people in it. And drum and bass, little dry drum and bass, are like a couple of guys in a tiny room. So you're consistently pulled back and forwards from this tiny space to a bigger feeling. And then it's all tied together with this voice and even if you don't understand what he's saying, you kind of get the gist you know? But yeah, it is a reference point.

Pavement - Spit on a Stranger

Actually the thing that I was listening to was this Pavement record I made [Terror Twilight] and it was like, oh, it's really quite strange to hear it because I have enough distance that I was really able to hear it like a record and I really liked it. It had a real kind of universe to it.

Oh god yeah, I actually...I love that album. What's good about it? Well, first of all I'm a massive fan of that band. I was always say that it's quite a weird idea to say that, oh I'm a fan of a band so I would like to work with them because it's like, who do you think you are? Are you going improve, you know, I like them anyway I'm not gonna...'Oh, you'd be better if I was there?' But actually in this case, it was nice to record Steve properly and make everything in tune because it elevates it to some other sort of thing. The whole thing with Pavement is like, spending time on those things that I would spend time on. I think in that way it did serve a purpose.

I love it because I love the music. And also, it's a really good album. It holds together. And again I hadn't listened to it for a long time. I was able to just hear it through. Yeah, I like its universe.

Strangely, 'Spit on a Stranger'...there's a lot of stuff flown in there. [sings a little melody] I mean, that's just straight off a two-track. There's an awful lot of throwing things at it. Just that happens to be - it's a weirdly anthemic song, isn't it, that one? So it's like there's nothing in the way of that. And yeah, you could argue that it's supposed to be quite pure in terms of a band thing...[Capturing the band] is the idea [cheekily].

Everything [on Terror Twilight] is constructed. Like if you listen to In Rainbows and you think, "Wow, what a great sound of a band in a room!" Well, the trick worked because it's not at all. There's a lot of dilly-dallying.

Beck - Lost Cause

He's got such a great band that you can cut a backing track with everybody playing, do the vocal and then I just turned the tape over. It was just like, you turn the tape over and get everybody to do stuff. And then you just edit it. You just erase the bad bits. And that's what you end up and it gives you something weird, something weird will always happen.

On Electronic Music vs. Traditional Rock Band

I couldn't make a band record really these days. Not at the moment anyway. Two guitars, bass and drums...That's the reason. Everything you've talked about from the beginning is trying to take away from that. That's very limiting.

On Ultraista and Making Atypical Electronic Music

Well...what's happened now is that people use the same piece of software. Or pieces of software. Just because something is electronic, it can exist outside of a computer. I always always was into the sound of electronic things breaking or taking them out of completely digital realms.

The optimum thing is using something like a piece of tape or something analog, to give the sound of something electronic distorted, or over-recorded...Those things are really something you can't really create purely digitally. I think those chops that I have, if you like, of being able to use all this stuff, apply really well to that universe and I enjoy mucking around with that stuff. I just like being in a laboratory really. A laboratory if it's just in a laptop is quite boring.

Radiohead - Kid A (the album) and Everything In Its Right Place

I think what happened in Kid A was using computers to manipulate organic sounds, for starters. Even just screwing around with an autotune plugin and making it do something wrong. And using synths and stuff. Thom was really into dance music and electronic music and I was interested in that stuff too. It was not necessarily the things, the sound sources. It was more of an ideology of saying like, "Okay, let's just put all the vocals backwards on this one." It doesn't have to structure like something that you could play. And try and find things that make the music function the best.

Again it's like framing the voice and the song. The first time he played Everything in Its Right Place before he'd written the vocal, there's a cassette somewhere of him just playing it on the piano and nobody can tell where anything is. It's impossible to follow. That whole experience was like...it happened in isolation one night where finally Thom and I sit down in a room and program the keyboards, print them and do our thing. Then I did the vocal scrub thing because I had this idea that I wanted to...This whole thing sort of evolved. Just us in the middle of the night, wrote the lyrics and did it.

Radiohead - Idioteque

That's all Jonny. He brought some new instruments into the fold. One of them was the Ondes Martenot, the thing that everybody thinks is a theremin. The other thing was like this modular synth, Analogue Systems. Drum machine.  

What happened was he made a beat and was playing a record behind it. And what happened was we took the beat with the loop behind it - those things are mixed together. And it really is like a sample because it just happens to fall in a certain place. Magical. It wasn't like, "Oh this is weird," it was like, "Oh, this is great!" I mean, instantly, it was like oh this is amazing. He just came downstairs with it. It was easy to see what it was and it's very simple. That's it

He didn't find [that little moment from the Lansky record]. You see what I mean? That's so often they way that these things are. What you have to do is just open the floodgates to these kind of possibilities. You know, he's just having a good time. [Jonny]'s like, "Oh this sounds good." If you listen to the whole bit [Lansky's piece], it's a long long piece and a tiny piece that gets [used].

Pretty much...I can't take credit for that. I think it's a reflection as well...It was a very creative time. So creative that we made too much and it became two separate things. It came from lots of different directions, but yeah, it was in the air. Again, it happened quite quickly. Because you have that and then something like 'Optimistic' - they do sort of meet in a weird way and it is something to do with the sonic quality of it. That's what makes it like something that hasn't really...It gives it its own uniqueness, if it has it.

More on Ultraista

Yeah, it was one of those things where you've got a studio, some time, some people and some ideas and we came from the idea of sampling records and creating your own stuff to sample. So originally it was just like getting in, we had like three days and just had a load of different jams and tried stuff. And then off the back of that, constructed this sonic backdrop, which then had a kind of electronic element. The loops we made and then the music is sort of super-imposed and then we have a singer.

[jennifersylvesters]

on the air ( prologue )

Synopsis: Your radio program receives its first ever caller...only to complain about a certain segment. Little do you know that he’s not going to stop bothering you both on the air and off. Pairing: uni!Harrison Osterfield x reader Word Count: 3.1k~ A/N: i’ve got absolutely no knowledge about radio stations so i’m so sorry if anything’s wrong. also - laying all the foundation for this - probably will start to pick up in part one. as always, i appreciate any - if at all - feedback. aka please give me feedback.

There were certain aspects that made autumn reign the supreme season in your mind. From the colorful leaves that swirled around to coziness of the sweater weather, you lived for the moment the air turned crisp and autumn came to visit. While others considered January the start of a new change, your heart said that fall season signaled new beginnings. After all, autumn meant the start of a new school year which had just as many resolutions as a new year did. 

You knew it wasn’t a popular opinion, but you loved coming back to campus after break. Summer was great, but there was something comforting about returning back to the quad. Yes, of course lugging up all your belongings into your new dorm room was always a pain. Yet there was a satisfaction when you finally tidied up your room making it feel like a home away from home, a small victory that you relished.

And nothing excited you more about arriving back on campus than getting to see your uni friends. Even though it had only been a couple months, you would break into a sprint and crash into all your closest friends with a hug when you spotted them; the reunion may have been a bit dramatic, but text messages and FaceTiming didn’t have quite the same effect as seeing someone in person.

Coming back to campus also meant another year of being a radio host. What started off as a fun proposition during your university’s activities fair turned into one of your favorite activities. 

The concept seemed simple enough. The station managers explained that all you needed to do was submit a radio proposal on what you planned on broadcasting. They would show you how to work the equipment and because it wasn’t a particularly popular activity, the station accepted just about every proposal thrown their way. 

In the couple of years that you broadcasted, you mostly kept to yourself. Of course you politely smiled at passing DJs, but you didn’t branch out fully with them. It wasn’t as if you viewed them as competition so much as you weren’t sure what to say to them. The only people you really spoke with were the station manager and the engineers.

Most of the engineers who worked at the station were students, taking the job in order to enhance their resume. It also helped that the position was an easy gig. Rarely did things go wrong and if it did, they were tiny blunders that engineers could quickly fix.

Which is how you came to work with George. For the most part he kept to himself, occasionally commenting a one word response. You were well aware of how he tended to tune out your broadcast, focusing on homework. Yet he was a reliable fellow, quick to fix whatever mistakes arose without being asked and never casting blame on you. 

About a year into knowing George, you suggested the idea of interviewing him which he surprisingly agreed to. It shouldn’t have surprised you how poorly the interview went. The struggle to have interesting questions combined with his stoic personality made for a terrible segment. The only positive outcome of the broadcast was that you learned three odd yet interesting facts about George: he typically had terrible luck with the exception of technology, he hated his roommates, and he was Greek. 

By now you and George mutually understood one another. He got the gist of your programming, knowing that you still struggled with cues and always lent a helping hand during those difficult moments. You understood he was friendlier to you on the days when his roommates weren’t being as annoying as usual.

Unlike some radio presenters that attempted to broadcast new, fun and exciting concepts, you kept your proposal simple: half of your program would be a talk show while the other half would play whatever music interested you at the moment. “So basically like a regular radio show?” the managers confirmed when you pitched, to which you slowly nodded your head. Your proposal wasn’t extravagant, and they could work with that. You requested if at all possible to you go by a pseudonym which they had no problem with. The station managers understood you weren’t trying to be ambitious; it was the presenters who wanted multiple sound effects and crowded the booth worried them more than your show. 

You settled for taking the nine to midnight slot on Thursdays, not wanting to fight for prime times the way other presenters did. This meant you couldn’t party with your friends that day, and you secretly loved using it as an excuse. You assumed no one except your group of friends actually listened to your show when they weren’t going out, and you didn’t mind. At least someone was listening. 

The music aspect of your show came naturally to you. Every week you would decide on a genre and let whatever music peaked your interest play freely. While you knew it was expected to make a set playlist, you found the managers let you skate by on that expectation because it wasn’t particularly busy that late at night. 

You found the talk show aspect was more difficult than you expected. Speaking about different subjects for an hour and a half took more work than you realized. Still, you always managed to find a couple of topics that peaked your interest to discuss on your show. 

Your favorite segment that you always included was something you dubbed “Romance Report” where you discussed the adorable romances you noticed on campus. You gushed about the cute couples, vividly describing certain people and the gestures that made you believe how in love they seemed to be. While you didn’t personally know any of the couples, you chose to give them the benefit of the doubt that their relationships were going strong.  

After a month and a half of being back on campus, you finally found your rhythm once more with programming. As you gently bopped along to the beat of Kehlani’s “Distraction”, you situated yourself to start “Romance Report” once the song ended. 

This week you spoke about a certain couple you saw where the boyfriend lovingly tucked a dandelion behind his girlfriend’s ear before kissing her on the forehead. The two of them laced their fingers together as they walked away from your vision, but the interaction left you full of butterflies in your heart. As you jabbered on about how adorable the gestures were, the phone line lit up. You stared quizzically at the blinking button, almost unsure if it was truly happening. The phone line only lit up when it was just your friends wanting to chat with you, but they normally texted before actually calling the station. It took you by surprise when you answered and an unfamiliar voice spoke. 

“Hey. Uh, yeah, would you please just shut up about the couples on campus?” the voice berated you, irritation laced in their tone. Naturally you were taken back. The first actual caller you got was upset with your programming? 

“I-I’m sorry?” you stuttered, unsure of what was occurring. You looked up to see George looking up at you. Like always, he rarely had an expression on his face but it was odd for him to pay attention unless something interesting was happening.

“Listen” the unknown voice sighed. “I’m not trying to be that person, but hearing this whole “romance report”...Honestly, it’s idiotic.”

The caller certainly wasn’t one to mince words. The comment stung, but you tried your best to remain civil. “Well, you don’t have to listen if you don’t want to?” you slowly responded, not wanting to offend the caller. 

“Yeah, but my mate says the music you usually play is pretty good. Which, yeah, you do have good music taste. So can you just stick to that?” It sounded more like an order than advice, and you could feel yourself becoming vexed. 

“No. You know what? I think I’ll keep talking about this couple” you decided promptly. You heard the caller on the line groan. “Listen pal, just change the station if you’re really that upset.”

“Or maybe just stop doing this segment in general.”

“This is my radio show” you snapped. “I’ve literally been doing this since I started.”

“So I’ve heard” the voice grunted. “And some of the couples you choose are ridiculous, you know that? Absolutely ridiculous.”

“How are they ridiculous? You don’t know what you’re talking about” you scoffed. 

“A couple weeks ago you talked about some couple sharing a croissant near the library’s coffee shop. You went on and on about how they must share everything. Pretty sure he’s not sharing the fact that he’s cheating on her.”

Your eyes widened at this statement. “What are you talking about?”

“Not to call him out on the radio, but he’s probably not listening anyways. So the guy you were talking about: his name’s Marcus. Saw him hooking up with some girl that was definitely not his girlfriend last week at that bar, Checkers.”

You exchanged glances with George. Even for someone so stoic, you noticed how he raised an eyebrow at that statement. Clearly this wasn’t what he expected during his shift. 

“Y-You don’t know that” you stammered out. 

“But I do” the voice insisted. “Love’s a joke. People like you think that it’s this everlasting magical feeling when it’s not. It’s work and when people realize that, they leave.”

“You’re being cynical” you retorted. 

“And you’re getting played by the biggest con job of them all.”

“N-No, I’m not” you defended yourself, but you heard how weak your response sounded. 

“Stop living in a fantasy world, romanticizing couples like that. It’s not real.” The comment cut deep, triggering something in you that you weren’t particularly sure you liked. 

“I think that’s all for now” you dismissed as you cut the line. You didn’t wait for the caller to respond, done with his attitude. 

You fumbled around with the controls before playing something - anything - to buy you some time. Somehow you managed to start up Mahalia’s “Never Change”, letting her song kill three minutes so you could formulate what to do for your remaining air time.

Glancing up, you noticed George still looking at you. You swallowed nervously, unsure if you wanted him to say anything or not. 

“Christ. Thought that’d be one of your friends” he finally commented before taking a sip of his coffee and returning back to his studies. 

“So did I” you agreed, leaning back in your chair. A loud sigh escaped your lips before you sat back up and began queueing up songs, at least long enough for you to compose yourself once more. The caller’s comments rang in your mind as you tried to process what just happened.

Despite your consistent praising of love, you hadn’t truly experienced it yourself. While some of your friends had significant others in high school, you only had a handful of crushes that eventually fizzled out. You never bothered to get a boyfriend, believing you would eventually get one in uni. Yet somehow that expectation never came true. 

The last thing you wanted to focus on was searching for someone to date. The majority of your time was spent hanging out with your friends or studying anyways. Occasionally your friends dragged you out to parties and bars, but you believed that no serious relationship could start at these locations. So you politely declined the idea of hook ups or handing your numbers out to strangers who offered to buy you drinks. 

You found solace in your radio show, just enjoying the idea of love rather than putting yourself out there. Because you wanted something cute, something real. But it didn’t seem likely on your campus. 

Still, you enjoyed the fantasy loves in your life. They were attractive guys whose small acts of kindness fueled your fantasies of what love could be. 

There was Kendall, the barista whose eyes always crinkled happily when you thanked him for your drink. During freshman year you generously tipped and politely thanked him after a huge rush, never once pestering him about how long he took to make the drinks. From discussing the different types of roasts to asking about his day, you always made polite small talk with him. At this point he memorized your usual order and always had it prepared by the time you finished paying. 

There was Logan, one of the student librarians who always let you eat in the biography section of the library despite no food being allowed near the bookshelves. You suspected it was because you consistently visited the place that he gave you a free pass. But you liked to believe it was due to you helping him shelve books during a particularly awful finals week. Whenever you passed him on campus, he would nod in your direction and the two of you would share an understanding smile of the secret that you both kept.

And then there was Harrison, one of the students in your art history class. If there was one thing that made an eight in the morning course more bearable, it was getting to see him. You couldn’t help but steal glances at the boy whose disheveled hair somehow looked so perfect.

Two weeks into the class you curiously watched as he fumbled through his pockets before letting out a low groan. You were caught off guard when he turned towards you asking to borrow a pen. After a brief moment of rummaging around your backpack, you pulled a pen from the front pouch. As you began to hand the pen over, you spotted bagel crumbs scattered on his shirt. 

You held out the pen to him, nervously silent. But something told you to let the cute boy know about the crumbs. “Don’t mean to be rude, but you have a little mess going on there” you whispered, leaning in towards him. 

Looking down, he spotted the little bits of his breakfast scattered on his shirt. He lightly blushed before mumbling a thanks, wiping the crumbs to the floor. 

A week later as you studied on a bench in the quad, you felt a light tapping on your shoulder. You looked up to see Harrison smiling down at you. He made brief small talk before asking to borrow your notes after missing the previous class. You pretended that you hadn’t realized he hadn’t shown when in reality you glumly spent the first couple of minutes of that class staring at the empty seat besides yours.

You handed over your notes as he thanked you. Harrison paused, opening his mouth to say something but stopped upon hearing someone call his name. Both of you glanced around only to spot a boy a couple feet away waving his arm excitedly. Harrison nodded towards whom you assumed was one of his friends. “Well, I’ll see you in class” he said as he headed towards the cheerful fellow.

As the next week rolled around and you tiredly staggered in to the art history class, you were caught off guard by something you weren’t expecting to see: on top of your usual desk were your notes along with the pen Harrison borrowed weeks before and an iced coffee with two sugar packs on top of the lid. The kind gesture touched you, especially since you hadn’t been able to stop by your usual cafe and were in desperate need of caffeine. You tore the sugar packets into the coffee before stirring, thoughts swirling of how Harrison must’ve noticed your preference of coffee. You gratefully sipped on the beverage before the professor walked in and began the lecture.

By next class, you found yourself buying him a breakfast muffin. You knew he only bought the drink as a gesture of showing thanks, but it was too sweet and kind for you not to thank back. It took all your courage not to chicken out, but you placed the pastry on his usual spot before class started. 

Upon seeing Harrison enter the classroom, you whipped your head around and immediately pretended to focus on your notes. The sound of his chair sliding out indicated he was next to you, but you ignored it. It took a brief moment for him to actually take his seat, which you figured meant he saw what you left for him. You could feel his gaze on you, but you continued  to stare down at your notes as your face heated up. It wasn’t until the professor walked in that you finally looked up. 

The first couple of minutes you desperately tried to concentrate on the subject at hand, refusing to look anywhere but straight ahead. But a soft tap on your arm brought you out of your trance, and you turned to Harrison who had halved the muffin and was offering a part to you. 

Your face heated up once more as you politely shook your head and raised a hand to indicate “no thanks”. But there was something about his gentle smile and him gesturing once more for you to take it that you eventually caved in. 

And that was the start of your art history tradition with him. One of you would bring in a breakfast food and split it with the other. No words were exchanged except the occasional thanks. While you couldn’t help but think that it didn’t mean much to Harrison, it only fueled your imagination about the potential of falling in love with him. 

Out of all your fantasy crushes, you enjoyed your thoughts about Harrison the most. Perhaps it was because you spent the most time with him, even if it was during a two hour lecture course filled with silence between the two of you.

You knew about Harrison even before this course. He was one of the many foreign students on campus that people fawned over. Perhaps it was his personality or maybe just his looks, but there was something about him that had girls hooked. You occasionally saw him at parties, but girls always clamored over him that you hadn’t paid mind until recently.

Fantasies now plagued your mind of him being yours, him taking you out to bars not to get drunk but to show you off as his girl. You couldn’t get over the idea of Harrison laughing along with your mates while his arm casually wrapped around your waist. And that at the end of the night, the two of you would go back to his dorm room and cuddle, falling asleep in one another’s arms. When his alarm would go off in the morning, you’d bundle up in his sweater and stroll hand in hand to the art history lecture hall. 

But of course you knew it was just fantasy. Still, you loved the idea of love and scowled at the idea of love being a joke like your caller implied. 

[annelizabethwrites]

Pairings: Roger Taylor X OC (Scarlett Walker); George Harrison X OC (Star Walker)

Rating: Mature (See Notes, Muses & Warnings for the actual warnings)

POV: Scarlett, Star, Third, Elaina

Warning: self-harm & substance abuse

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♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎♕☮︎︎

April 4th, 1969- ✌︎︎♡︎ Scarlett's POV

Paul and John came back from their honeymoon. The fashion show went well. Ringo and George showed up, which made the press go wild. This drove Anne crazy because she wasn't the center of attention, but Kelly talked to them and didn't mind. It was a rainy day in London, and Star picked me up after work. We would've Family night at Ringo's this week, but the lads had to catch up on their album since they went on a holiday or got married. Star and I walked into the lads screaming and Ringo looking like he was about to kill someone.

"Rock, paper, scissors on who goes into that," Star said.

"No, let's just team up," I walked into the room.

"Okay, before any of you guys kill each other, each of you at one of the corners," I yelled; the lads looked at me, and Star and I raised my eyebrow. I'm really tired of them fighting; honestly, it's so tiring since I'm the one who is always stopping the fight. They all walked to a corner and sat there like little children. I pinched the bridge of my nose, "What happened today."

"Oh, I can tell you!" John rose his hand like a little kid trying to get called by the teacher, then pointed at George, "He and Pattie broke up, then he-"

"He's been having a fucking affair with my fucking wife since August!" Ringo screamed. I turned to Star, who was on the verge of tears.

✌︎︎♡︎ Star's POV

"He's been having a fucking affair with my fucking wife since August!" Ringo screamed as I felt my heart drop. This fucking asshole! This whole time he's been fucking Mo?! I felt a heaviness in my eyes; I looked over at George, who looked down as soon as my eyes hit his.

"Un-fucking-believable," I turned around and ran out of the studio. I got to my car and placed my head on the steering wheel, feeling the cold tears fall down my face. I feel betrayed; Mo knows how I feel about George, she always knew, and she still does this? I knew I should've kept my feelings in check! The sadness became anger, and I started to hit on my steering wheel in frustration before going home. Once I got to the flat, I stormed into my room and plopped on my bed. I dug my face in my pillow, bursting into tears. Why am I never good enough? Can he fucking tell me he doesn't want to be with me?

✌︎︎♡︎

"Star!" I yelled as Star stormed out. I turned right to George; my anger went through my body. I warned him and told him to stop doing this to Star!

"What's wrong with Star?" John looked at George and me, as I ignored John.

"I fucking told you, Harrison, if you hurt her again, I'll fucking kill you!" I lunged at George as Paul, Ringo, and John grabbed me to keep George safe from me.

"Lottie calm down," Ringo grabbed onto me; I calmed down and walked to the other side of the room. The four men resumed their fight. I just observed them fighting and thinking. I had it! I'm done with the fighting, the constant breaking each other, the toxicity this band brought into the Family!

"That's enough!" I yelled as they all looked at me, "Can there be one fucking day where you guys aren't fighting? I can't do this anymore! I had it! Star and I have been called out of work because of your fights. I'm sick of it!"

"Scarlett..." Paul tried to get soft with me, but I could not do it anymore.

"No. I'm done. Talk to me when you guys are done fighting," I bolted out of the studio. I ran home, which was a half-hour walk but a faster run. I was soaked when I got to my flat, but I didn't care. I darted into Star's room. She was cuddling with her pillow, her eyes were puffy, and the tears were still falling down her face.

"Why am I never good enough for him," She cried.

"Oh, no, Star, you are. It's just, he's too stupid to see," I walked over and started to rub her back.

"He dumps me so he could be with Pattie, then once his marriage is over, he sleeps over, tries to shag me, kisses me. He says I'm so beautiful and shows me a song supposedly written for me. Meanwhile, he's fucking Mo and doing god knows what with her." Star cried, "I'm clearly not good enough for him."

"Don't say that. George is just being a stupid boy," I sighed.

"Yeah, but I'm stupidly in love with that stupid boy!" Star yelled. We talked a bit more, and we both decided to forget what happened and have a twin date. We decided to go to the Premier, I went to start her car, and that's when I saw the lads fighting out front of my building.

"Unbelievable!" I screamed as they all looked at me with innocent smiles on their faces.

"We listen to what you said, and you were right," John innocently smiled, "We fight too much."

"And we want to apologize for how we have been acting," Paul finished.

"Great, tell me that when you mean it," I crossed my arms, "Because you guys clearly don't."

"Well, you shouldn't be mad for us fighting," John stated.

"I have to if I'm always breaking it up!" I snapped, "And the more you guys fight, show more of my worst nightmare."

"That is?" John asked.

"All of your fucking egos will break up our family because it is slowly but surely breaking," I stated, "And right now, I can't stand some of your decisions."

"What did I do?" John asked.

"I don't know, preaching about peace and love and saying how you never wanted to become your father, but that is exactly what you are doing to Julian!" I yelled; Ringo started to giggle as I went off on John, "Ringo, you're not innocent either!"

"I didn't do anything," Ringo shrugged.

"You knew if you told Star about George and Mo, you would upset her, and that would get to George," I turned to him, "You played your sister's emotions to get back at him. Who would do that?"

"And you. I am so sick of you right now. I am holding everything back, so I don't pound you to the ground," I turned to George. George looked down at his feet, "She's so hung up on you! It's breaking her. At the end of her relationships, she would say, 'they're not like Geo' or 'Geo wouldn't have done that' I had to sit with her, crying on my shoulder because she thinks she's not good enough for you!"

"That's not true," George told me.

"Then show it!" I yelled.

"Y'know, you're not innocent either, miss little perfect. How could your dad feel about your lifestyle? Hm? Ms. I'm all innocent and shit until something more tempting comes my way," Paul looked at me, "Do you forget you forged our signatures to get money from girls at your school? Or did you forget that you fell off the edge of the earth with Elaina once you got to Uni and doing god knows what? Do you think your dad would be proud of that?"

"Oh shut up, you don't get to say that," I snapped at Paul.

"Why, cause I'm right?" Paul looked at me.

"No, because how would your mum feel when she finds out her son is a manipulative little bitch that gives zero fucks when it comes to loyalty?" I looked at Paul, "Jane left you because your perfectionism became so controlling, and you couldn't keep it in your damn pants. At least my dad knows I listened to him about loyalty."

𑁍TW: Self-H@rm𑁍

"Well, how would your dad like it about the cutting?" Ringo coughed as I glared at him.

"What?" John looked at Ringo, then me.

"Shut up," I looked at Ringo.

"Oh yeah, when ms little perfect falls rock bottom in her depression, she doesn't get out of it with our help. Instead, she cuts." Ringo glared at me.

"Fuck you," I glared at Ringo. It wasn't his business to tell them.

"What the fuck, Scarlett?" John looked at me.

"Oh, just spare it," I sighed.

"Spare it? How come you didn't come to me?" John looked at me.

"Oh yeah, remember when you knew a girl was cutting and yelled at her in public to roll down her sleeves? I'm not an idiot," I crossed my arms, "Plus, If I told you anything more about my mental health, you would look at me as even more fragile than you already do!"

It became silent; we all knew nothing else to be said; I looked down at the ground, thinking.

"We're supposed to be a family. We're not supposed to be fighting on the pavement, yelling at each other about what we all did wrong. We're not supposed to get into almost fistfights every day. We're not supposed to pick and choose sides, and we don't play with each other's emotions!" I looked at them, "Family doesn't start affairs with another family member's wife! Or fucking dreads seeing everyone all together because of the clusterfuck that is bound to happen! This Family is getting too toxic, and I already was in one. I don't need another."

"Well, maybe we're not Family. We never were. We just said it," John spoke, and everyone looked at John.

"I guess we're not," I started to play with my ring, then walked up to John. I took off the ring and put it in his hand.

"I'm done. I can't stand this anymore. I'm done living a lie of the perfect Family because we're not," I walked past the men after John grabbed my ring.

"Scarlett, I didn't mean it. Come back. Where are you going?" John cried out.

"Away from you guys, I can't even stand to look at you anymore," I turned to the four men and walked away.

✌︎︎♡︎

I walked down the steps and heard screaming. I stayed in the building overhang where I was not seen, but I could overhear.

"We're supposed to be a family. We're not supposed to be fighting on the pavement, yelling at each other about what we all did wrong. We're not supposed to get into almost fistfights every day. We're not supposed to pick and choose sides, and we don't play with each other's emotions! Family doesn't start affairs with another family member's wife or fucking dread seeing everyone all together because of the clusterfuck that is bound to happen! This Family is getting too toxic, and I already was in one. I don't need another." I heard Scarlett's voice crack.

"Well, maybe we're not Family. We never were. We just said it." I heard John say. My heart sank when I heard that.

"I guess we're not," I could hear the tears from Scarlett's voice trembling, then I could hear footsteps, "I'm done. I can't stand this anymore. I'm done living a lie of the perfect Family because we're not."

I gasped, put my hand over my mouth, and fought the tears that wanted to come down.

"Scarlett, I didn't mean it. Come back. Where are you going?" I heard John screaming.

Then I heard Scarlett scream, "Away from you guy, I can't even stand to look at you guys anymore!"

"You guys should be ashamed of yourself," I walked out from my hiding spots, and the four men turned to me.

"What did you hear?" John asked. I walked up to John, seeing Scarlett's ring in his hand.

"I heard from were not family," I looked at the ring in John's hand.

"I didn't mean it," John said, "Please believe me."

"I do, but it's true," I looked into John's eyes, "We need a break from you guys. We can't stand you guys anymore."

"Star Judith, don't you dare," John started as I took off my ring, placed it in his palm, and closed his hand.

"We had a good run," I teared up, "See you guys when I see you."

I walked upstairs and closed the door. I slid down the door and broke down crying.

"It's going to be okay," Elaina walked out and hugged me.

"No, it isn't. Scarlett and I just gave up on the lads!" I teared up. 𑁍TW: substance abuse𑁍 I got up, went to my room, grabbed my bag of drugs for when I go out, then started to dump it. Elaina looked at me as I sat on the couch and rummaged through my pile.

"Are you just going to stare the whole night or wanna get wasted?" I looked at her.

"Depends. What do you got?" Elaina asked.

"Weed, Coke, LSD, and acid joint, practically anything I can snort, smoke, or swallow," I shrugged as Elaina sat next to me, and we started to do rounds of coke and shared the bottle. Soon as the alcohol and coke went into my system, I could feel numbness, and the sensation was exquisite.

Third Person POV

The lads just stood there in the rain, trying to process what happened. Their clothes are drenched, and so is their hair.

"We fucked up, they were the best part of our lives, and we fucked up," John clutched the twins' rings.

"Star said they just needed a break, George and Ringo took a break, and they came back," Paul assured.

"Yeah, because we talked to one of the twins before we left!" George and Ringo both screamed, and the lads started to point fingers at whose fault it was for the twins leaving. They all went home and plopped into their beds, crying as they all regretted the actions they had made leading up to the twins leaving them. When Paul ran into his house, he ran right to bed and closed the door. When Linda walked in to see what was wrong, Paul told her everything and started to cry. John got home, and Yoko was waiting in the living room as he told her to do. John closed the door, gently placed the twins' rings on a countertop, and broke down crying. When Ringo came home, he went to his room, and Maureen walked in. Even though she has been unfaithful, she still loves Ringo, and he isn't so innocent when infidelity. She comforts him as Ringo sobs, telling Maureen what has happened. George was different. He's divorcing Pattie. George was planning to ask out Star, which would not happen anymore. He got home, grabbed a bottle of brandy, and started to down the bottle. He began to cry and knew he had messed up. The only thing we wanted to do was eat ice cream, make fun of cartoons with Scarlett, cuddle up with Star and fall asleep calm and happy. Once the brandy started to kick in, George drove to Apple to pick up one of the Apple scruffs practically living there. He brought the scruff home and started to get comfort out of her, still having Star glued in his mind.

Scarlett's POV

After running out of the fight, I went on a bus and ended up at Roger's flat. I'm drenched head to toe with rain and tears. My face had my makeup running down. I knocked on the door, and Roger opened it, and I could see his face soften.

"What happened?" He frowned.

"I got in a fight with the lads, and I now no longer talk to them," I looked down, started, and showed my hand, "I gave them my ring back and told them to have a great life."

Roger grabbed me and pulled me into a long hug; I cried on his shoulder. Poor Roger is now soaked because of me.

"Why don't you come in and you can get change, okay?" Roger looked at me with his big blue eyes. I nodded, and we walked in. Roger shared a flat with three guys named Geoff, Les, and Pete. Les is why Roger met Brian and Tim, which led up to meeting me. I've never actually met them but heard how they live there. Roger kept his arm around me and moved up close to Roger. He snuck us into his room, but as we passed the front room, some noises came out of the room. We got to Roger's room, and he quietly closed to door, then rummaged through his shirts to find something I could put on. I stayed quiet and tried calming my emotions while sitting on his bed. 

"Here's one of my shirts and a pair of my sweats. You might need to tie them," Roger smiled, passing me the clothes. I stood up and didn't know where to get changed. Roger got awkward and turned around as I giggled at him and turned around, then started to get changed. I had the sweat pants and the shirt bunched up around my neck, but I was in front of his mirror, out of habit; I began to inspect my scar.

"Oh uh," I heard a guy coughed before I realized Roger turned around to see my scar, and I quickly put the shirt down, "Sorry, I shouldn't have turned.

"It's alright. I zoned out," I froze in response.

"It's not that bad. I think it makes you look stronger than you already are." Roger quickly walked up to me and kissed me. I blushed and hugged him, we all sat down, and my stomach started to rumble.

"Did you eat?" Roger asked.

"No, Star and I were about to eat but then..." My voice started to tremble a bit. Roger got up, told me to stay there, and came back with a heated-up piece of pizza.

"I know it's not five stars, but-" He handed me the plate.

"I know it will taste good," I took a bite and devoured it. I skipped lunch today, which wasn't the best idea, but I wasn't starving.

"Did you eat today?" Roger asked.

"Does only breakfast count?" I placed the plate on his side table.

"Just Breakfast? What about lunch?" Roger asked.

"Skipped it, wasn't that hungry," I stated. Roger wanted to say something about it but stayed quiet.

"You can stay the night," Roger changed the subject, "I don't mind sharing my bed with my love."

His face got closer to mine, and we started to kiss. Our kiss became a hot makeout session, we fell onto his bed with a slight giggle, but before anything could happen, I broke the kiss, "Roger-"

"You're not ready yet, I know, and I'll wait until you're ready," He smiled, "Why don't we go to bed? You had a long day."

I nodded as we both got into the sheets. I tried to hide my scar because my insecurities about it started to rush back. I pretended to fall fast asleep, but Roger figured out I was faking it. I felt soft hands sliding up my back, bringing the shirt up, and gentle kisses on every inch of my scar.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of the scar," Roger whispered while fixing my shirt, "I can also tell you're not sleeping."

"What gave it away?" I whispered back, turning around, putting my arms around his torso as Roger put his arms around my waist.

"About knowing you were not sleeping or feeling ashamed by your scar."

"Both."

"Well, you always hid the scar, and I could tell you weren't sleeping because you felt tense."

"Oh..."

"Why are you ashamed of your scar?"

"It reminds me of a time when it was the weakest point of my life."

Roger pulled me closer, and I was in the crook of his neck. He kissed me on the head, "Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, my love," I kissed him on the cheek not too long after drifting away in my sleep.

April 11th, 1969- Third-person POV

Both of the twins haven't taken the split from the lads well. Star has constantly been partying. The Family was Star's anchor to not going too deep into drugs and drinking. With the breakup, she simply fell off the deep end. On the other hand, Scarlett was acting; things weren't as bad as they seemed. Scarlett had dropped into her depression and felt suffocated. The only way she felt like she could get some form of relief was to cut. She also has been busying herself with work, her boyfriend, and her friends. The lads weren't doing so well either, John would carry around the twins' rings, and he looked at the rings every time he missed them. At the studio, they will constantly mope on how much they missed the twins and say how they fucked up. George Martin started to get tired of just one week of moping, and vaguely, so was Elaina from seeing the twins breaking. Martin called up the twins' flat, hoping he could fix the damage that had happened, but if the twins answered, they would hang up. The last time Martin called, Elaina answered the phone, and Martin told her to come down to the studio to talk some sense into the lads.

Elaina's POV

I went to the studio to hopefully fix this mess. This has been the most tortured week ever. Scarlett and Star are destroyed, Star has been drinking and doing drugs more, and Scarlett will refuse the fact that she misses them. I walked into the studio, and everyone looked at me, fuck.

"You guys broke my best friends!" I snapped out of my shy fangirl stage, "What the fuck did you say to them."

"What we said to them? How about what they said to us," John said.

"You guys look fine, Star won't stop drinking and doing drugs, and I am honestly scared for her health without adding the number of people she's been sleeping with and chances of STDs." I started, "And Scarlett is pretending she doesn't care, but you can see she is breaking. She refuses to admit she needs help, Scarlett looks so broken and depressed, but she will tell you she's fine."

They all looked down to the ground, but I still had more to say, "You guys broke the two strongest people I know by just one fight. How did you manage to do that?"

"John said were not a family," Paul stated.

"For the last time, I said I didn't mean it," John yelled.

"Well, because of that, you messed up the only good bond we ever had," Ringo added. They all started to fight besides George. He looks like he's lost in his thoughts. He also looks more broken than the rest of them. I knew he had a thing for Star. Maybe he is feeling guilty? I didn't stay too long. I left as their fighting got a bit worse. Scarlett was right; they fought too much.

Scarlett's POV

I was at work, and Kelly and I started to talk about the articles and photos that just came in from the fashion show. We are waiting for Kelly's Manager, Ella Pierce. Kelly and I are picking up an article with pictures of me, Roger, Freddie, Star, George, and Ringo. The report had for its headline 'Beatle Twin Making It To The Big Shots' the article was saying how I was the assistance for Kelly Price and all that. I started to read it, and it showed more pictures of us.

"You miss them, don't you?" Kelly asked.

"What, no." I snapped out of it.

"Don't lie, Walker. You miss them."

"Do. Not."

Kelly shook her head with a smile, and we started to look at more articles and pictures. We heard the door knock, and Kelly and I quickly cleaned off her desk.

"Come in," Kelly yelled as Roger walked in. He looked at me and smirked.

"Hello, Ms. Price, can I take your assistant for a moment?" Roger asked. Kelly nodded, then got up and closed the door behind her.

"Hi," Roger walked up and hugged me.

"Hi," I said in his ear, "What's up?"

"Well, I want to see my girl and tell her something."

"What is it?"

"Me, you, dinner, and a Movie," Roger smirked.

"Sounds amazing. What movie?" I asked.

"Breakfast at Tiffany's. I know it's your favorite movie, and it's playing at a local drive-by," Roger kissed me then whispered in my ear, "I'll pick you up after work?"

"I can't wait," I wrapped my arms around his neck. He gave me a sweet kiss and then left as Kelly walked in. She gave a glance at Roger, then looked at me.

"You're making him wait? If I were you, I would've jumped his bone after the first date," Kelly looked at me, pointing in Roger's direction with her thumb, "You scared or something?"

"Just not ready," I shrugged.

"Sure," Kelly gave me a face.

"So, how long have you known Ella?" I coughed.

"Since I've been doing Kelly's Closet. Cordelia let me live in her basement when Danny was born. When I was selling my handmade clothes at the flea market, Ella came up to me with an offer I couldn't refuse. Her dad is a manager and had an empty building. She knew the owners of stores. I got the building, and the stores liked my clothes," Kelly said, "She grew up in a rich life. She made connections."

"Is she nice?" I asked as Kelly nodded. It wasn't long before we heard a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Kelly yelled. A girl with light hair and dark eyes walked in. Kelly got up from her seat, ran up, and hugged the girl.

"Ella!" Kelly squealed.

"Kelly!" Ella laughed. The two girls broke the hug. They giggled while walking toward me.

"Ella, this is Scarlett Walker, my assistant," Kelly introduced me to Ella, "Scarlett, this is my manager Ella Pierce."

"Aren't you famous?" Ella stuck out her hand.

"Eh, I don't think I am," I shook her hand.

"No, you're like really famous anyways, Ella Pierce," she laughed.

"Hi Ms. Pierce, Scarlett Walker," I laughed.

"Please call me Ella," Ella smirked as I nodded.

"I'll let you two have it. Good luck," Kelly walked out. She didn't tell me she was going to leave.

"You're that Beatles twin," Ella looked at me as I nodded.

"Yeah," I sighed.

"Why are you an assistant?"

"I want to move away from that title."

"I get that. So what is it like to grow up with the Beatles?"

"Interesting."

"You don't have your ring,"

"Excuse me?"

"I follow every A list celebrity, and you, my dear, are A list celebrity. Everyone knows you and your sister have those rings that match your brothers. You don't have yours on."

"I don't talk to the Beatles anymore. My sister and I gave them back the rings because it seemed right for the lads to have them."

"Damn, sorry to hear that."

Later...

Ella left. She's a lovely person, we did talk about what we will be accomplishing as work buddies, and she seemed pretty chill. Kelly and I were wrapping up the day as I waited for Roger to pick me up. Kelly got back into the conversation about Roger, and she's shocked that I'm still a virgin and didn't let him take my virginity yet.

"Honey, be careful. Girls will be crawling all over him once he gets famous," Kelly joked. I laughed and shook my head, then Kelly looked at me, "Does he have any single hot friends?"

"If you mean Tim, Brian, and Freddie, then no," I laughed, "He also is the only boy, so no hot siblings."

We cracked a few more jokes, and Kelly started telling me how she was thinking of returning to the dating game.

"I mean, I am a 25-year-old single mother. I want more kids, and I'm not getting any younger," Kelly started to bite her nails, "Do you have any suggestions on what to do?"

I looked at Kelly with a devilish smirk. Kelly's eyes got a little wide and concerned.

"What?" She asked.

"Well, I'm going to a Smile gig tomorrow. Come to my flat at seven if you want to," I smirked with a toothy grin.

"I guess I can call my babysitter," she said, "Your flat at seven?"

"Yep," I nodded. We walked, still laughing and joking. Roger pulled up just in time.

"Awww, he's on time. He's a keeper," Kelly walked to her car as I laughed and shook my head getting into Roger's car.

"Hi," I smiled.

"Hi," Roger smiled, "I went to the Premier first and got you your favorite chocolate fudge milkshake and burger and fries."

"Thank you," I blushed. We drove to the local drive-in and got comfortable in Roger's car. We cuddled up while eating our dinner.

"You know you can take off your jacket," Roger looked at me.

"I know... I just want to keep it on, if that's alright," I coughed. I don't want to show him my arms because that will bring a conversation that might push him away. When I bring up mental health to my boyfriends, they break up with me, acting like it's some burden, and as sad as it is to admit, I now think my mental health is a burden.

"Okay, whatever makes you comfortable," Roger kissed my temple.

April 12th, 1969

I opened the door to see Kelly. She tied her shirt to make it into a crop top and a plain pair of pants and heels.

"You look amazing," I said, "Come in. I have to get changed."

Kelly walked in, and I ran to my room and got changed. I put on a shirt, overall shorts, and then a pair of boots. I walked out to see Star in a dress that stops just below the thigh and Elaina in a mini skirt with a tank top that stops at the stomach. We all headed to the pub. Star and Elaina dragged Kelly to the bar and taught her how to pick up guys. I snuck backstage to see the boys. Tim and Brian are tuning their instruments as Roger is stretching. 

"Getting ready?" I leaned on the door frame.

"Not quite. I'm waiting for my kiss," Roger pouted as I smirked before walking up to kiss Roger.

"Remember when they hated each other?" Brian looked at Tim.

"Which time?" Tim asked.

"Funny," I rolled my eyes, looking at them, "Good luck, dumb and dumber."

"I think your boyfriend won the dumber," Brian pointed as I rolled my eyes. I gave Brian and Tim a hug and a kiss on the cheek as they did the same to me.

After the gig...

 I walked down to see Roger and quickly ran up to him as he picked me up, spun me around, and gently kissed me. I put my arms around his neck, and he put his arms around my waist, we pulled away from our kiss, and our noses were touching.

"God, you were amazing," I sighed in awe.

"Well, I don't know... You and Kelly had quite the moves," Roger gave me a toothy grin.

"What can I say? I love to dance," I blushed a bit. I could tell Roger blushed a bit, and we started to kiss again. Then got interrupted by a cough. I turned around to see Elaina, Kelly, Sienna, and Star.

"Aww, how cute!" Star teased. I rolled my eyes before the boys packed the van. We all decided to hit the bar and grab a table. Freddie ran into the bar, sat next to Star then realized Kelly was seated next to me.

"Oh my god, you're Kelly Price! You're like a fashion goddess!" Freddie started, "I am a huge fan."

"It's nice to meet you, Freddie, finally. I've been told a lot about you," Kelly smiled.

"You talk to her about me?" Freddie faced me. I nodded.

"I tell her about all of you guys," I answered. After a few drinks, everyone went home. Though I'm not legally allowed to drive, Roger is too wasted to drive, so I took Roger's keys. Once I got to Roger's flat, I tried to bring him into his room, but Roger was naturally flirting and clingy.

"You're cute. You know that?" Roger's speech was slurred, "Are you single?"

"No, I already have a boyfriend," I giggled.

"Well, he is a fortunate bastard," Roger got jealous and angry.

"Rog?" I smirked.

"What's up, pretty birdie?"

"You're the fortunate bastard."

"Oh, I am!" Roger's face perked like a puppy; I giggled, bringing him to bed.

"Why don't we get you changes, okay?" I grabbed a pair of Roger's PJs since his clothes are soaked in sweat and reak from all the alcohol he consumed. But Roger didn't cooperate too well. After a few minutes of trying to get my drunk boyfriend to get changed, I won. Soon as Roger plopped on his bed, he whined for me.

"How about I get changed, and we can cuddle?" I softly talked, and he agreed. I quickly got changed in the bathroom before returning to Roger's room. I slipped into the covers and put my arms around Roger, and he put him around me to pull me closer. I started to play with Roger's hair until I dozed off into sleep.

[michaelarmstrongmusic-blog]

Jeff Lynne & ELO

I can’t remember the first time I heard ELO. My dad had a greatest hits album on vinyl, so I suspect it was one Sunday afternoon when he would treat my brother & I to some selected tracks from his vast collection. My dad isn’t the slightest bit musical, but he loves his music. Moreover, in those days, he loved his stereo and it held pride of place in the living room. He lived his teenage years through the 1960s and I think a lot of that generation valued their hi-fi equipment and record collection. A far cry from these days where kids listening to music they haven’t paid for on mp3s on tiny headphones or computer speakers. But that’s a different subject.

In 1981 my brother came home with a copy of the new album, TIME’. We’d been hearing ‘Hold On Tight’ on the radio and loved it. He played that album over and over. Although I didn’t realise it at the time, this album was the first step in Jeff slimming down the line-up, laying off the strings, and eventually becoming a one man band. Although it’s not perhaps recognised as one of the classic ELO albums, I still love it to this day.

By the time ‘Balance Of Power’ came out in 1986 I was music-obsessed. I had learnt to play the guitar, was teaching myself to play the piano, and had begun writing & recording my own music. I had a Tascam 4-track tape machine and was bouncing down tracks endlessly so I could add more harmonies and get that sound. Jeff was the ultimate role model for me. He played everything bar the drums on the new album, wrote all the songs and produced it. I considered myself a 12 year old Jeff.

To add to this was the mystery surrounding the man himself. By the time I was on board, Jeff didn’t appear in newspapers & magazines. ELO didn’t perform on Top Of The Pops - the songs were played and danced to by Legs & Co, there was no sign of any band. All there seemed to be was an image of a beard, big curly hair and the dark glasses. This guy was cool and it was about to get even better...

I’m a musician and a songwriter and therefore I’m a Beatles fan. Who couldn’t be? By the age of eleven I had every album and had read most of the books on them (and there are a lot). I was and remain to this day an expert on the subject. When I heard that Jeff was working with George Harrison on a new album I was overcome with excitement & anticipation. When I heard ‘Got My Mind Set On You’ I probably cried. It was the perfect pop song and dripped in Jeff’s production topped of with George’s unique voice and a great video to accompany it. The album ‘Cloud 9′ didn’t leave the turntable for several months.

So, by this stage I’m really developing as a songwriter and searching out different music to soak up and explore to help me make the next stage of the journey and improve my skills. Inevitably I’m introduced to Bob Dylan and, like the many other discoveries I’d made up to that point, I immerse myself in his music and culture. To then find out that a supergroup was to be born including Jeff Lynne, George Harrison, Bob Dylan, Tom Petty (I didn’t know who he was at the time) and Roy Orbison was Biblical in it’s proportions. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. ‘Traveling Wilbury's Vol.1′ did not disappoint. It is a thing of beauty.

And there started the ‘Production Years’. Jeff was a much in-demand producer and sometimes co-writer and delivered some of the greatest music there has been. Many of the artists he worked with and albums he worked on will be the subject of future blogs so I will not expand on this for now. What did remain however, and for many years, was the mystery of Jeff. In the intervening period I has seen all the surviving Beatles perform live. I’d seen Dylan on countless occasions, I’d seen The Eagles, Fleetwood Mac, Supertramp, James Taylor, Pink Floyd and almost all my other heroes and influences. I honestly believed that I would never see Jeff...

I was in the Radio 2 VIP enclosure (perks of the job my friends) on 14th September 2014 at Hyde Park when Jeff Lynne’s ELO took to the stage. It was a moment. It was the moment. It had finally come. It was a celebration and it was a joy. Earlier in the day I had been introduced to Jeff’s PR guy by my manager who told him what a huge fan I was. “Have you spoken to him yet?” he asked. Spoken to him! What? I tried to keep my cool as he led us to the back stage area where we were stopped by security who said I didn’t have the correct pass. “Sorry” said the PR “I thought you had backstage passes too. Never mind, maybe next time.” So close yet so far...

The concert at Hyde Park sparked off a whole new chapter of Jeff’s incredible career. A new album ‘Alone In The Universe’ was to be followed by a World Tour. I was fortunate enough to be invited to the two small warm up gigs in London where I watched Jeff and the band perform so many hits to an audience of just a few hundred. They remain amongst the greatest gigs I have ever seen.

You can hear Jeff’s influence in my music and my production. On the new album #LookingForTheWorld there are one or two tracks in particular which pay homage to the enormous legacy he has given us. Although I haven’t met him yet, a close friend of mine did work with him on a track in the 1990′s. He said he was great and very down to earth. After the session they all went out for a curry and upon finishing his Madras and taking a swig from his bottle of ale, Jeff muttered the immortal words...”There’s only 3 things you need in life. Beer, birds and Beatles”. A man after my own heart.

[truthaboutthebeatlesgirls]

(The four 1964 modelling photos of Pattie Boyd above accompanied the following 1966 interview:)

LUCKY PENNY TALKS TO PATTIE BOYD

From UK: DIANA - The Popular Paper For Girls - No. 184 -  August 27, 1966

At Cherry Marshall’s Model Agency in Grosvenor Street - the fashion centre of London where most of the famous dress designers have their salons - I met top fashion model Pattie Boyd, wife of Beatle George Harrison.

Pattie was wearing the “latest lines” - a cotton striped shirt dress, daringly short to show off those long, long legs - and kinky pink shoes - toe-less and heel-less. Although she’d been working since seven o'clock in the morning - popping in and out of clothes and smiling for photographers - she still looked as fresh as a daisy as she answered my questions.

Where were you born? In Taunton, Somerset, but I lived in Scotland and Africa for a while with my two sisters and three brothers.

What were some of your favourite subjects at school? History. Art - I preferred drawing objects and people rather than imaginative things. I liked French, too.

What are some of your likes? Sun. Swimming. Music. Food. Clothes. Cars. Some people I know.

What are some of your dislikes? Fog. Some people I know. Time - it slips by so quickly especially when you’re happy and enjoying yourself.

What are your hobbies? And what places do you most enjoy going to? I haven’t any hobbies. And places I lke going to - the country. And visiting other countries - France in particular. I always have a nice time when I go there. Actually, I like going everywhere.

If you could live in another day and age - which century and which person would you choose? I’d live in the Regency period because everything was so beautiful and so slow and the people weren’t as free as they are today - I mean they were restricted in all sorts of ways - so all the places you went to and all the things you did, were so much more exciting. And the person I’d be - Napoleon. They were always after him, he lived in constant danger. And he was always fighting a battle or fighting for a woman - such an exciting life, and that’s what I like.

I’m sure you’ve met many interesting people. Who has been one of the most outstanding? The singer, Bob Dylan. He’s very strange in every way - in looks and behaviour. He acts the whole time and you to keep on watching him and listening to him. He hops from one subject to another, and yet whatever he is talking about, he tells you in fantastic detail. And his hair is so amusing - it reminds me of Straw Peter.

If you hadn’t become a model - what would you like to have been? A violinist. Although I’ve never learnt to play. I love the instrument.

Any superstitions about good and bad luck? I think everyone is fated. When your number’s up - so to speak -  you’ve got to take what comes. I certainly don’t believe in horoscopes or anything like that.

Any lucky numbers or days? None at all.

What are your favourite colours? Colours - Purple and White. Precious stone - Garnet, and the deeper the red, the more I like it.

What pop singer do you like? - apart from “The Beatles.” What do you think of pop music? My favourite pop singers are - Donovan, Marianne Faithfull, “The Byrds” and “Mamas and Papas.” And as for pop music - well, I don’t like what the public buys - the records in the top ten and top twenty. They’re simple and catchy, easy to listen to and understand, but with very little else. I like the discs which don’t stand chance of getting into the charts, like the ballads of the American coloured singers and the New Wave groups - they’ve got real depth and feeling.

What type of music do you most enjoy? Where do you like to listen to it? I like most music, but especially Indian music. It’s very interesting and although it’s hundreds of years old, it’s one step further than modern jazz. I like to listen to music at home on a very good record player with two speakers, then you can really hear the tone and the different instruments in the orchestra.

Your opinions about dancing? I love modern dancing and I think dancing is a good thing. It’s an acceptable way of expressing one’s body. I don’t like ballroom dancing very much though, except to watch it on TV with the sound switched off - it’s so funny.

Could you tell me one of your most unforgettable moments? I can honestly never forget this horrible incident. When George and I were in Spain, we went to a bullfight, my first and last. Well, one of the matadors was showing off - throwing up his hat to a girl in the audience and trying to catch her attention. The bull came up behind the matador and he turned - but he was a split second too late and the bull caught and gored him. George and I were sitting in the front by a gangway as the officials carried the injured matador towards us. George shouted, “Don’t look, don’t look.” Then a minute later, I heard a thud and George had slumped to the ground in a faint. It was awful.

Whom would you choose for company, if you were going round the world in 80 days? No relatives allowed. I’d choose a poet or a writer, then he could put into words all the beautiful things we see and experience. I think I’d choose Walter Benton the author of “This is My Beloved” - I must like him if he can write like that. It would definitely have to be someone with a beautiful vocabulary.

Fashion-wise, what clothes do you like? I like summer clothes - all of them, they’re so light-looking and light-weight. I don’t wear them often enough to get tired of them.

What are your plans for the future? And what would you most like to achieve? For the time being, I’m carrying on with modelling. And what I’d like to achieve - to have an antique shop if I knew more about it.

* * * * * * * * *

[uomo-accattivante]

A long time ago, a grade-schooler got his hands on a spaceship. He followed the assembly instructions as best he could, snapping on the cannons, the landing gear, the tiny interstellar-chess table. Soon enough, Rian Johnson was holding his very own Millennium Falcon. “The first thing I did,” he recalls, “was throw it across the room, to see how it would look flying.” He grins. “And it broke.”

Johnson grew up, went to film school, made some good stuff, including the entertainingly twisted 2012 sci-fi drama Looper. He’s nearly 44 now, though his cherub cheeks and gentle manner make it easy to picture the kid he was (too easy, maybe – he’s trying to grow back a goatee he shaved); even his neatly pressed short-sleeve button-down has a picture-day feel. In late October, he’s sitting in an office suite inside Disney’s Burbank studios that he’s called home for many months, where a whiteboard declares, “We’re working on Star Wars: The Last Jedi (in case you forgot).” Johnson is the film’s writer-director, which means he ended up with the world’s finest collection of replacement toys, including a life-size Falcon set that nearly brought him to tears when he stepped onto it. He treated it all with what sounds like an intriguing mix of reverence and mischief – cast members keep saying nothing was quite what they expected. “I shook up the box a little bit,” he says, with that same grin.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, everything is broken. In the months since the franchise stirred back to life in 2015’s The Force Awakens, it has felt rather like some incautious child grabbed civilization itself and threw it across the room – and, midflight, many of us realized we were the evil Empire all along, complete with a new ruler that even latter-day George Lucas at his most CGI-addled would reject as too grotesque and implausible a character.

Weirdly, the saga saw it all coming – or maybe it’s not so weird when you consider the Vietnam War commentary embedded in Lucas’ original trilogy, or the warnings about democracy’s fragility in his prequels. In the J.J. Abrams-directed The Force Awakens, a revanchist movement calling itself the First Order assembles in Triumph of the Will-style marches, showing the shocking strength of an ideology that was supposed to have been thoroughly defeated long ago. What’s left of the government is collapsing and feckless, so the only hope in sight is a band of good guys known as the Resistance. Familiar, this all sounds.

“It’s somewhat a reflection of society,” acknowledges the saga’s new star, Daisy Ridley, who plays Rey, and who has gone from unknown London actress to full-blown movie star nearly as fast as her character went from desert scavenger to budding Jedi. “But also it is escapism, because there are creatures and there are people running around with fucking lasers and shit. So, I think, a wonderful mix of both.”

And the worse the world gets, the more we need that far-off galaxy, says Gwendoline Christie, who plays stormtrooper honcho Captain Phasma (as well as Game of Thrones’ Brienne of Tarth): “During testing times, there’s nothing wrong with being transported by art. I think we all need it. Many of us are united in our love for this one thing.”

The Last Jedi, due December 15th, is the second episode of the current trilogy, and advance word has suggested that, as in the original middle film, The Empire Strikes Back, things get darker this time. But Johnson pushes back on that, though he does admit some influence from the morally ambiguous 2000s reboot of Battlestar Galactica (which is funny, because Lucas considered the Seventies TV show a rip-off and urged a lawsuit – long since settled – against it). “That’s one thing I hope people will be surprised about with the movie,” Johnson says. “I think it’s very funny. The trailers have been kind of dark – the movie has that, but I also made a real conscious effort for it to be a riot. I want it to have all the things tonally that I associate with Star Wars, which is not just the Wagner of it. It’s also the Flash Gordon.”

As of late October, almost no one has seen it yet, but Johnson seems eerily free of apprehension about its prospects. He exuded a similar calm on set, according to Adam Driver, who plays Han and Leia’s Darth Vader-worshipping prodigal son, Kylo Ren. “If I had that job, I would be stressed out,” he says. “To pick up where someone left off and carry it forward, but also introduce a vocabulary that hasn’t been seen in a Star Wars movie before, is a tall order and really hard to get right. He’s incredibly smart and doesn’t feel the need to let everyone know it.” (“It felt like we were playing the whole time,” says Kelly Marie Tran, cast as the biggest new character, Rose Tico.) A few weeks after we talk, Lucasfilm announces that Johnson signed on to make three more Star Wars films in the coming decade, the first that step outside of the prevailing Skywalker saga, indicating that Disney and Lucasfilm matriarch Kathleen Kennedy are more than delighted with Last Jedi. And Kennedy’s not easily delighted, having recently replaced the directors of a Han Solo spinoff midshoot and removed original Episode 9 director Colin Trevorrow in favor of Abrams’ return.

The Force Awakens’ biggest triumph was the introduction of new characters worth caring about, led by Rey and Kylo Ren, plus the likes of John Boyega’s stormtrooper-defector Finn, Oscar Isaac’s Poe Dameron and more. Kylo Ren (born Ben Solo) lightsaber-shanked Harrison Ford’s Han, depriving Johnson of one coveted action figure – but the film left us with Carrie Fisher’s Princess Leia, now the general who leads the Resistance, and the climactic reveal of Mark Hamill’s now-grizzled Luke Skywalker.

The Last Jedi will be Fisher’s last Star Wars movie. In the waning days of the cruel year of 2016, she went into cardiac arrest on an airplane, dying four days later. Less than a month afterward, 500,000 or so people assembled in Washington, D.C., for that city’s Women’s March, and Leia was everywhere, in posters bearing her doughnut-haired image circa 1977, with accompanying slogans (“A Woman’s Place Is in the Resistance” was, perhaps, the best).

Johnson had grown close with Fisher, and is glad to hear that I visited her psychedelically decorated Beverly Hills house a couple of years back, where she did almost an entire hilarious interview prone in bed. Afterward, she cheerily cracked jokes about drugs and mental illness in front of a visiting Disney publicist. “You got to experience a little bit of that magical sphere that she created,” says Johnson, who went over the script with her in that same bedroom. “I’m happy I got to poke my head into that, briefly, and know her even a little bit.”

He left her part in the film untouched. “We didn’t end up changing a thing,” says Johnson. “Luckily, we had a totally complete performance from her.” So it is now Abrams who has to figure out how to grapple with Fisher and Leia’s sudden absence. (He is characteristically gnomic on the matter: “It’s a sad reality,” he says. “In terms of going forward … time will tell what ends up getting done.”)

Overall, Johnson enjoyed what seems like an almost unfathomable level of autonomy in shaping The Last Jedi’s story. He says no one dictated a single plot point, that he simply decided what happens next. And he’s baffled by fans who are concerned by the idea that they’re “making it up as we go along”: “The truth is, stories are made up! Whether somebody made this whole thing up 10 years ago and put it on a whiteboard and we all have to stick to that, or whether we’re organically finding it as we move forward, it doesn’t mean that any less thought is being put into it.”

Mark Hamill’s single scene in The Force Awakens lasts all of one minute, and he doesn’t say a thing. But it’s an indelible piece of screen acting with real gravitas, from an underrated performer who had become better known for Broadway and voice-over work – he’s been the definitive animated Joker since the early Nineties. (“With voice-over,” Hamill says, “I thought, ‘This is great! I can let myself go to hell physically! I don’t have to memorize lines!’”) As Rey approaches him on the lonely mountaintop where’s he’s presumably spent years studying the Jedi equivalent of the Talmud, Luke Skywalker’s bearded face cycles through grief, terror and longing.

“I didn’t look at that as ‘Oh, this is going to be my big chance,’” says Hamill, who has just shown up at Johnson’s offices and plopped down next to him, carrying a large thermos of coffee in the right hand that Darth Vader once chopped off. He has a trimmed-down version of his elder-Jedi beard, which he’s grown to appreciate: “I shaved, and I thought, ‘You know what, the beard does cover up the jowl.’”

Hamill is a charming, jittery chatterbox – turns out that even at his youngest and prettiest, he was a geek trapped in the body of a golden boy. He is excitable and wild-eyed enough to give the vague sense that, like Luke, he actually might have spent a few solitary years on a distant planet, and is still readjusting to Earth life, or at least movie stardom.

He admits to having had “frustrations over being over-associated” with Star Wars over the years – his Skywalking cost him a chance at even auditioning to reprise his stage role as Mozart in the film of Amadeus – “but nothing that caused me any deep anguish.” He still spent the decades since Return of the Jedi acting and raising a family with Marilou, his wife of 39 years. And as for his current return to the role of Luke? “It’s a culmination of my career,” he says. “If I focused on how enormous it really is, I don’t think I could function. I told Rian that. I said, as absurd as it sounds, ‘I’m going to have to pretend this is an art-house film that no one is going to see.’ ”

For his Force Awakens scene, he says, “I didn’t know – and I don’t think J.J. really knew – specifically what had happened in those 30 years. Honestly, what I did was try and give J.J. a range of options. Neutral, suspicion, doubt … taking advantage of the fact that it’s all thoughts. I love watching silent films. Think of how effective they could be without dialogue.”

Abrams had some trepidation over the idea of handing Hamill a script with such a tiny role. “The last thing I wanted to do was insult a childhood hero,” he says, “but I also knew it was potentially one of the great drumrolls of all time.” In fact, Hamill’s first reaction was, “What a rip-off, I don’t get to run around the Death Star bumping heads with Carrie and Harrison anymore!”

But he came to agree with Abrams, especially after he counted the number of times Luke was mentioned in the screenplay – he thinks it was more than 50: “I don’t want to say, ‘That’s the greatest entrance in cinematic history’ … but certainly the greatest entrance of my career.”

Johnson turns to Hamill. “Did I ever tell you that early on when I was trying to figure out the story for this,” he says, “I had a brief idea I was chasing where I was like, ‘What if Luke is blind? What if he’s, like, the blind samurai?’ But we didn’t do it. You’re welcome. Didn’t stick.” (He adds that this was before a blind Force-using character showed up in 2016’s side film Rogue One.)

Hamill laughs, briefly contemplating how tough that twist would’ve been: “Luke, not too close to the cliff!”

He had a hard enough time with the storyline Johnson actually created for Luke, who is now what the actor calls a “disillusioned” Jedi. “This is not a joyful story to tell,” Hamill says, “my portion of it.” Johnson confirms that Hamill flat-out told him at the start that he disagreed with the direction Luke’s character was taking. “We then started a conversation,” says Johnson. “We went back and forth, and after having to explain my version, I adjusted it. And I had to justify it to myself, and that ended up being incredibly useful. I felt very close to Mark by the end. Those early days of butting heads and then coming together, that process always brings you closer.”

Hamill pushed himself to imagine how Luke could’ve gotten to his place of alienation. A rock fan who’s buddies with the Kinks’ Dave Davies, Hamill started thinking about shattered hippie dreams as he watched a Beatles documentary. “I was hearing Ringo talk about ‘Well, in those days, it was peace and love.’ And how it was a movement that largely didn’t work. I thought about that. Back in the day, I thought, by the time we get into power, there will be no more wars. Pot will be legal.” He smiles at that part. “I believed all that. I had to use that feeling of failure to relate to it.” (We do already know that Luke was training a bunch of Jedi, and Kylo Ren turned on him.)

Hamill’s grief over the loss of Fisher is still fresh, especially since the two of them got to renew their bond, and their space-sibling squabbling, after fallow decades that had given them far fewer reasons to get together. “There was now a comfort level that she had with me,” he says, “that I wasn’t out to get anything or trying to hustle her in any way. I was the same person that I was when she knew me. … I was sort of the square, stick-in-the-mud brother, and she was the wild, madcap Auntie Mame.” Promoting the movie is bringing it all back for him. “I just can’t stand it,” he says. “She’s wonderful in the movie. But it adds a layer of melancholy we don’t deserve. I’d love the emotions to come from the story, not from real life.”

I mention how hard Luke seems to have had it: never meeting his mom; finding the burnt corpses of the aunt and uncle who raised him; those well-known daddy issues; the later years of isolation. “It’s the life of a hero, man,” says Johnson. “That’s what you’ve gotta do to be a hero. You’ve gotta watch people that you love burn to death!”

Hamill notes that reality is not so great either. “Sometimes,” he says, softer than usual, “you think, ‘I’d rather have Luke’s life than mine.’”

Adam Driver has a question for me. “What,” he asks, “is emo?”

Between training for the Marines and training at Juilliard to become one of his generation’s most extraordinary actors, Driver missed some stuff, including entire music genres. But the rest of the world (including an amusing parody Twitter account) decided there’s something distinctly emo about his character, with his luxuriant hair, black outfits and periodic temper tantrums. “You have someone who’s being told that he’s special his whole life,” Driver says of his character, “and he can feel it. And he feels everything probably more intensely than the people around him, you know?”

As anyone who’s seen Driver in practically anything, even Girls, could tell you, the actor himself seems to feel things more strongly than most. “I don’t think of myself as a particularly intense person,” he says, possibly not unaware that he is making intense eye contact, and that his right knee is bouncing up and down with excess energy. “I get obsessive about certain things and, like, enjoy the process of working on something.” He’s in a Brooklyn cafe, on a tree-lined street, that seems to be his go-to spot for interviews. He arrived early, fresh from shooting the new Spike Lee movie, wearing a dark-blue sweater over black jeans and high-top Adidas. Driver has a certainty to him, a steel core, that’s a little intimidating, despite his obvious affability and big, near-constant laugh. It’s not unlike talking to Harrison Ford, who played his dad. Until Driver’s character murdered him.

Driver, raised by his mom and preacher stepdad after his parents divorced when he was seven, doesn’t flinch when I suggest his own father issues might be at work. “I don’t know that it’s always that literal,” he says. He mentions that Kylo Ren also murders Max Van Sydow’s character, who was sort of a “distant uncle” to him. “No one asks me, ‘So you have a distant-uncle problem?’ ”

John Boyega told me in 2015 that Driver stayed in character on set, but that seems to be not quite true. Driver just tries to keep focused on his character’s emotions in the face of an environment he can’t help but find ridiculous. “Watching Star Wars, it’s an action-adventure,” he says. “But shooting it, it’s a straight comedy. Stormtroopers trying to find a bathroom. People dressed as trolls, like, running into doorways. It’s hilarious.” And when he wears his helmet, he can’t see very well. “You’re supposed to be very stealth, and a tree root takes you down.”

He refuses to see his character as bratty. “There is a little bit of an elitist, royalty thing going on,” he says, reminding us that the character’s estranged mom is “the princess. I think he’s aware of maybe the privilege.” He does acknowledge playing Kylo Ren younger than his own age of 34: “I don’t want to say how much younger, 'cause people will read into it… .” He flushes, and later says he regrets mentioning it at all. If it’s a plot spoiler, it’s unclear exactly how, unless it’s related to his unexplained connection to Rey. The two apparently spend serious time together in this film. “The relationship between Kylo and Rey is awesome,” says Ridley, whom Driver calls a “great scene partner,” apparently one of his highest compliments.

At first, Driver wasn’t totally sure he wanted to be in a Star Wars movie. I’m always skeptical of Hollywood movies because they’re mostly just too broad,“ he says. But Abrams’ pitch, emphasizing the uniqueness of Kylo Ren’s character as a conflicted villain, made the sale. “Everything about him from the outside is designed to project the image that he’s assured,” he says. Only in private can he acknowledge “how un-figured-out he is … how weak.”

Driver can make a passionate case for why Kylo Ren isn’t actually a villain at all.

“It’s not like people weren’t living on the Death Star,” he says, his brown eyes shifting from puppyish to fierce without warning. He seems almost in character now. “Isn’t that also an act of terrorism against the hundreds of thousands of people who died there? Did they not have families? I see how people can point to examples that make themselves feel they’re right. And when you feel in your bones that you’re supported by a higher power on top of that, and you’re morally right, there’s no limit to what you’ll do to make sure that you win. Both sides feel this way.”

You’re starting to talk me into joining the Empire, I say. He laughs and shifts his delivery one degree over the top. “So, the rebels are bad,” he says, connecting his fist with the table. “I strongly believe this!”

On an extravagantly rainy Thursday evening in Montreal, I’m sitting at crowded, noisy Le Vin Papillon, a wine bar ranked as Canada’s fourth-best restaurant, holding a seat for a Jedi. Ridley arrives right on time, in a fuzzy faux-fur coat and a jumper dress – “the dregs of my wardrobe,” she says. Her shortish hair is in a Rey-ish topknot that makes her way too recognizable, but she doesn’t care. “This is how I have always had my hair,” says Ridley. “I am not going to change it.” She’s been in Montreal for three months, shooting a Doug Liman-directed sci-fi movie called Chaos Walking – which “is a little bit chaotic, in that we’re writing as we go and everything,” she says. “I’ve realized I don’t work well with that.”

She’s on the second of two unexpected days off thanks to co-star Tom Holland (a.k.a the latest Spider-Man) suffering an impacted wisdom tooth, but she’s still deeply exhausted. 

“I need a [vitamin] B shot in my ass,” she muses, in the kind of upscale British accent that makes curses sound elegant. It seems already clear that typecasting won’t pose the kind of problem for her that it did for the likes of Hamill and Fisher. Instead, she’s just busy in a way that only a freshly minted 25-year-old movie star could be – and she still managed to fulfill a pre-fame plan to go back to college for a semester last year. “I have no control in my life at all,” she says. She has four movies on the way, not even counting the Liman one. “So there is a lot going on, and I have never had to deal with that before. I don’t think my brain can really keep up with what is going on.” She has full-blown night terrors: “I wake up and scream.”

Rey had an epochal moment in the last movie, claiming her lightsaber from the snowy ground, and with it, her power, her destiny, her place at the center of the narrative. Her turn. Ridley is still absorbing what that moment, and that character, mean to women and little girls. But she definitely felt more pressure this time around, especially because last time, “it was all so insane, it felt like a dream,” she says. “I remember saying to Rian, 'I am so fucking neurotic on this one.’ I was like, 'I am going to fuck this up. All these people think this thing. How do I do that thing?’ ”

Part of the problem may have been Ridley’s tendency to downplay what she pulled off in the first movie. Her heart-tugging solo scenes in the first act, especially the moment where she eats her sad little “one half portion” of green space bread, created enormous goodwill, in seconds, for a character no one had seen before. She mentions Harrison Ford’s effusive praise for that eating scene, to the point where he was “getting emotional.” “I don’t know,” she says with a shrug, ultimately giving credit for the impact to Abrams and the movie’s cinematographer, Dan Mindel. “I was just eating!”

But in other ways, Rey has given her confidence. On her current film, she says, she was offered a stunt double for a scene where a door would swing open and knock her back. She took Liman aside and said, “'Doug, I don’t need a stunt double to do that.’ And I thought, 'I don’t know if this would’ve happened if it was Tom Holland.’”

Unlike almost everyone else in the world, Ridley has known for years who Rey’s parents are, since Abrams told her on the set of The Force Awakens. Ridley believes that nothing ever changed: “I thought what I was told in the beginning is what it is.” Which is odd, because Johnson insists he had free rein to come up with any answer he wanted to the question. “I wasn’t given any directive as to what that had to be,” he says. “I was never given the information that she is this or she is that.” 

The idea that Johnson and Abrams somehow landed on the same answer does seem to suggest that Rey’s parents aren’t some random, never-before-seen characters. All that said, Abrams cryptically hints there may have been more coordination between him and Johnson than the latter director has let on, so who knows what’s going on here – they may be messing with us to preserve one of Abrams’ precious mystery boxes. In any case, Ridley loves the speculation: Her favorite fan theories involve immaculate conception and time travel. It seems more likely that she’s either Luke’s daughter or his niece, but again, who knows.

Back in 2015, Ridley told me she was fine with the idea of being seen as Rey forever, the way Fisher was always Leia. Now she’s changed her mind. “There are literally no similarities with Carrie’s story and mine,” she says, adding that while Fisher ultimately embraced writing over acting, she plans on continuing to “inhabit” as many characters as possible. On the other hand, “a lot of Rey is me,” she says, “but that is not me being Rey. That is parts of me being a character as Rey, because how could it not? So in that sense, I understand it, because so much of Leia is Carrie.”

This trilogy will end with Abrams’ Last Jedi sequel, and after that, it sounds like the main thrust of the franchise will move into Johnson’s mysterious new movies, which look to be unconnected to the previous saga. As far as Abrams is concerned, that will be the end of the Skywalker story. “I do see it that way,” he says. “But the future is in flux.”

As far as Ridley is concerned, the future of Rey is pretty much set. She doesn’t want to play the character after the next movie. “No,” she says flatly. “For me, I didn’t really know what I was signing on to. I hadn’t read the script, but from what I could tell, it was really nice people involved, so I was just like, 'Awesome.’ Now I think I am even luckier than I knew then, to be part of something that feels so like coming home now.”

But, um, doesn’t that sort of sound like a yes? “No,” she says again, smiling a little. “No, no, no. I am really, really excited to do the third thing and round it out, because ultimately, what I was signing on to was three films. So in my head, it’s three films. I think it will feel like the right time to round it out.”

And how about coming back in 30 years, as her predecessors did? She considers this soberly, between bites of Brussels sprouts roasted on the stalk. (We split the dish, which means she got … one half portion.) “Who knows? I honestly feel like the world may end in the next 30 years, so, if in 30 years we are not living underground in a series of interconnected cells … then sure. Maybe. But again, it’s like, who knows. Because the thing I thought was so amazing, was people really wanted it. And it was done by people who really love it.”

She thinks even harder about it, this new Star Wars trilogy that we’ve made up on the spot. “How old will I be?” she asks, before doing the math. “55.” She looks very young for a moment, as she tries to picture herself as a middle-aged Jedi. Then she gives up. It’s time to go, anyway; she has a 5:25 a.m. pickup tomorrow for her new movie. “Fuck,” Ridley says. “I can’t think that far ahead.”  

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