toeihardlyknowher

[toeihardlyknowher]

The summer of 1965

In the summer of ’65, Y/N gets paired with Ringo Starr on a roller coaster 🎢

You hadn’t even wanted to go to the amusement park that day.

It was hot. The kind of summer heat that made your blouse stick to your back and your curls puff up at the crown.

The smell of caramel corn and sunblock filled the air, and everything felt like it was moving too fast.

Kids running, cameras flashing, radios blasting “Help!By The Beatles.” Every ten minutes like the park had it on repeat.

You were supposed to be with friends, but they’d gone off chasing rumors of Paul , John and George somewhere near the bumper boats, and you were left wandering solo, still chewing on the last bite of your soft pretzel.

You found yourself in line for the roller coaster but not just any coaster, but Thunder Strike, the new ride everyone was talking about. The main line stretched for hours, winding like a snake past trash cans and screaming toddlers. But just off to the side, almost hidden behind a palm tree and a souvenir stand, was a small sign.

SINGLES WILL BE PAIRED.

The single rider line was practically empty. You paused for a moment, hesitating, then shrugged. Why not? You had no one to scream with, but at least you’d ride faster than the crowd baking in the sun for two hours.

The line took you past the coaster’s engine room, where the air smelled like steel and grease. A few people filed in behind you, but you didn’t look. You just stood there, arms crossed, watching the mechanics check bolts and pulleys.

Then someone stepped in beside you. Not behind. Right beside.

“Looks like we’re about to be paired,” a voice said. British. Familiar.

You turned slowly and nearly choked on your breath.

He was standing right there. Leaning casually against the railing like he wasn’t Ringo bloody Starr, drummer of the biggest band on earth, hair a little damp from sweat and a wide-brimmed hat barely shielding him from the sun.

You blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He smiled. “Why? You hoping for someone taller?”

“No,” you said, mouth dry. “I just didn’t expect… you.”

He glanced around, eyes playful behind dark sunglasses. “That’s the idea, love. Keeps me from being chased by fourteen-year-olds.” He nudged your arm. “You’re not gonna scream, are you?”

You shook your head, trying not to laugh. “Only if we go upside down.”

“Oh, we do,” he said, and then nodded toward the front. “They’re waving us forward.”

You were still in a daze as you climbed into the seat beside him, the coaster car narrow and cramped, the safety bar forcing your knees to bump together. His arm brushed yours, and you could smell the faint scent of soap, salt, and something woodsy. Not cologne, maybe just him.

The attendant checked your harnesses, gave a thumbs-up, and stepped back. The ride lurched forward, and the chain beneath you groaned as you began the slow climb.

You tried to act normal. Just a girl on a coaster. With Ringo Starr from The Beatles.

“You okay?” he asked softly, leaning toward you. His voice was low, his accent thick and warm.

You nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

He turned slightly toward you, lips twitching with amusement. “Thinking on a roller coaster. That’s a first.”

“I’m not used to riding with rockstars,” you said before you could stop yourself.

That made him laugh. A real one, deep and throaty, head tipping back.

“Well,” he said, “I’m not used to riding with girls who don’t ask for autographs. I’d say we’re both out of our element.”

Then the drop came.

You screamed. He screamed louder. His hand found yours halfway through the loop but not romantic, not calculated. Just instinct. But he didn’t let go.

When the ride ended, your hair was a mess and your voice hoarse, and you both stumbled off the platform laughing like idiots. You weren’t sure if it was the ride or the moment, but something felt different like your day had shifted into a whole new version of itself.

Ringo tugged off his hat, running a hand through his hair, still grinning. “I haven’t screamed like that since George accidentally lit my jacket on fire backstage.”

You laughed. “Sounds like you have fun either way.”

He looked at you for a long second. “Not always. But this? This was definitely fun.”

There was a quiet moment. Just the sound of other rides rumbling, the hum of music in the background.

You spoke first. “Do you get much time to just… be a person?”

He exhaled through his nose. “Less than I’d like.”

And that was it. You saw it. the brief flicker of weariness in his eyes. Not sadness. Just a kind of hunger. For normal. For quiet. For something real.

“I’m grabbing a lemonade,” he said suddenly. “You want one?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Lemonade. Or cotton candy. Or both, if you’re a madwoman.”

You smiled. “Sure. Lemonade.”

He nodded. “Alright then. Let’s go.”

And just like that, you were walking beside Ringo Starr down the boardwalk, two paper cups in hand, the sea breeze ruffling your shirt, the sky fading into that soft peachy dusk.

He asked you about your summer. You told him about your family. He told you about the worst hotel he ever stayed in (Cleveland, 1964, a window that wouldn’t close and a bed that squeaked if you breathed too loud).

By the time you finished your drinks, you realized it had been almost an hour. No one had interrupted. No mobs. No flashes. Just you and him. Strangers, sort of. Ridemates, now.

You looked at him and said, “So… what happens now?”

He leaned against the railing, sipping the last of his drink. “Now I give you a choice.”

You raised an eyebrow.

He pulled a scrap of paper from his back pocket, scribbled something on it, then handed it to you.

“My number. If you want to call, do. If you don’t, that’s alright too.” His eyes lingered on yours. “But I hope you do.”

You took the paper. His writing was neat, curvy, oddly elegant.

You folded it gently, tucking it into your pocket like a secret.

And before he left, he leaned close but so close you could smell the lemonade on his breath and said, “Thanks for being the best surprise of my day.”

Then he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd, a ripple of something real in a world that often felt like noise.

And you stood there, hand in your pocket, heart pounding, wondering if fate really did know what it was doing.

Because you came alone.

But you didn’t leave the same.

[toeihardlyknowher]

This or nothing

this is how i want finn and noah doing press after season 5 comes out talking about the byler reveal

[toeihardlyknowher]

Has anyone seen that TikTok of the woman doing the sleep study and she’s hooked up to all these wires that measure her brain activity ??? And she watches her brain waves go from like, regular to insane when she thinks about Harry Styles?

I just know I’d send that machine into overdrive with one second of contemplating Lenmac

[toeihardlyknowher]

Don’t do this to me bro

[toeihardlyknowher]

Byler edit - Glimpse of us

did i ate? yea i absolutely did

What do you thinkkkk? i‘m kinda obsessed 🤭

[toeihardlyknowher]

matching icons 😌

[toeihardlyknowher]

the thing about the beatles is you have to have listened to at least three different beatles albums from three different points in the decade before you're allowed to say they suck. and anyone who has actually done that will not say that. because it isn't true.

[toeihardlyknowher]

Tried a little something 😌

[toeihardlyknowher]

June 18th!! The Paul zine is here!

Is available through kofi

[toeihardlyknowher]

The concept of Jonathan and Mike arguing over Will's safety and Jonathan is like: "Dude he's my brother!" And Mike is like: "Well he's my-" --awkward pause-- "my f-friend..." And then Jonathan gives him THE LOOK.

[toeihardlyknowher]

I want Max and Will to interact SOOO bad

They are best friends hello??

[toeihardlyknowher]

Reminder to yall that this actually happened

HE SET HIM STRAIGHT

Oh wait.

AND DONT FORGET ABOUT THIS

WILL BYERS IS SINGLEHANDEDLY KEEPING MIKE WHEELER IN LINE HE ACTUALLY SHMACKED SOME SENSE INTO HIM

[toeihardlyknowher]

some labybugs doodles cuz i love them :33

TW BRIGHT COLORS

+ unfinished joan

[toeihardlyknowher]

ok but have we talked about how the beginning of “here today” sounds so much like the beginning of “here, there and everywhere.” Like that same soft step into the room… the same question hanging in the air. just a few notes, unresolved, like someone walking in and forgetting why they came.

and here, there and everywhere was john’s favorite. the one he told Paul he liked most. and Paul still says that. still remembers. like it mattered more than maybe anything else they ever said aloud.

so of course, years later, Paul writes here today. like a reply. like he's reaching back in time and space.

because, once Paul said he needs his love here, there and everywhere. and now, all he can do is wonder-

if you were here today. as if to ask: where are you? as if to say: you're still with me.

like. are these two songs in conversation?? are they waving to each other across time??? are they responding????

…hello?????? is this thing on???????

[toeihardlyknowher]

Someone please request a Y/N X Ringo Starr imagine I BEG YOU

[toeihardlyknowher]

no but byler being canon would actually be such a win for the queer community. stranger things has always been for the 'freaks' and 'outcasts' of society, and having the main character (will) who has been tortured for his whole life finally get the boy of his dreams and his happy ending would be phenomenal!!! i know a lot of people think that the duffer brothers may not make byler canon in the end out of fear, but considering the shows morals (and how outrageous it would be to not let will have his happy ending) i think they will. and i also think it would be the only choice that would make sense narratively at this point, so byler for the win!!

[toeihardlyknowher]

these are by far my favorite pictures of John and Paul. they look so happy to do what they love with who they love.

God I hate them (I don't bring them back pls)