#macca where’s my glasses

[futfemfantasies]

Kisses ~ Sam Kerr x Matildas!reader

Ever since Sam leaned in and kissed you for the first time in your car on a rainy first date, she has used the simple gesture as a form of love. On the flight back to London you're missing Sam just that little bit extra so you think of all the different types of kisses Sam would give you.

Rushed forehead kisses

You and Sam both play your club soccer in England but for different teams. You for your beloved Arsenal with Steph, Caitlin and now Kyra and Sam for her Chelsea. This meant you both trained on different days and left early in the morning while the other was still asleep. Today was one of those days. You had the day off while Sam had a 8am training and gym session straight after.

The bed dips slightly as you feel a light touch on your face. You open your eyes to see Sam softly smiling down at you while you adjust to the light in the room.

"Good morning my love. I have to go, but I wanted to say bye"

You lean up and give Sam a quick hug before she quickly kisses you on the forehead and bolts out the door. You laugh to yourself as you heard Sam trip on her pair of shoes you asked her to move at least 3 times in the past day.

Knuckle kisses

Sam surprised you with a short 4 day holiday away in the English countryside since you both were injured and your teams are playing away this weekend. Your shared bag is in the car and you couldn't be more excited to have some alone time with Sam. Sam walks quickly to your side and opens the door like the gentlewomen she is and you give her a kiss as a thank you. You being the designated passenger princess in the relationship meant you get to control the music for the trip.

As the buildings passed and various music genres have been sung by both of you, Sam moves her hand from your thigh and grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles. You blush at the gesture and squeeze Sam's hand 3 times as a silent way to tell her you love her.

"What's that for baby?"

You ask in confusion.

"Nothing really. I just adore you so much and I wanted to show it"

Sam looks at you with her trademark smile and you melt then and there. That was the moment you knew that you were going to marry this girl.

Grateful kisses

It's one of those days again where you had the day off and Sam had training so you decided to do the grocery shopping before you and Sam were meeting up with Steph, Caitlin and Macca for dinner. As you turned the trolley down various aisles, you noticed some of the chocolates that Sam enjoys and decided to surprise her with them. Grabbing the sweet treat, you turn around to see a bouquet of her favourite flowers. You put them in the trolley and continue of with your shop.

When you arrive home, you put the treats and flowers on the kitchen bench with a note that reads just because xx . You put all the food away in its place and you remember the Mount Everest of laundry that's on your bed. As you started folding, you hear the front door open.

"Baby?"

Sam calls out as she rounds the corner to see the flowers and treats.

"Bedroom!"

You hear quick and heavy footsteps before two strong arms wrap around your waist and kisses flooding your cheek and the side of your neck.

"Thank you for the flowers and chocolates"

"I remember you said you liked them so I bought them for you"

Sam turns you around and holds your hips close to her. She moves a small piece of your fringe away and holds your cheek like it's made from glass. Sam's lips join yours and the kiss sends you both end up on top of the laundry.

"I'm so grateful for you and I don't tell you enough"

"You show me in different ways and that's all that matters. I'm grateful for you too Sammy"

Shoulder kisses

Sam had a late training and media duties day again for Chelsea so you decided to make her favourite dinner. After getting back from the store 30 minutes before Sam was due to arrive, you quickly got to work in the kitchen. Just as you put the wooden spoon down from stirring the pasta, you feel arms around you and small kisses on your shoulder. You lean back into Sam and she mumbles something into you shoulder.

"What was that honey?"

"I said, it smells like home in here"

Sam replies with a sad tone.

You turn around in her arms and caress Sam's cheek with a pout on your face.

"At least we're going back for Christmas break. Only 2 more weeks my love"

You say hoping to cheer up your now fiancé.

"I guess you're right. Having you here with me helps that home sickness go away"

"You name it and I'll do my best to help babe"

Sam smirks at your suggestion and you playfully hit her chest.

"Not like that you perve!"

#womens soccer #woso #woso soccer #woso imagine #matildas #auswnt #sam kerr x reader

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Travel Troubles.

Prompt: Sick in an Inconvenient Place

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: Sickness doesn’t care where you are. You get sick but your girls are there for you.

TW: vomiting

A/n I suck at grammar. So there are like three commas in this lol. Plus I typed it with one hand because I’ve hurt my other arm :(

Wanda had been begging you and nat for months now and you had finally caved. You were going to the beach for a few days. You were actually pretty excited to be spending some quality time with your girls so when you woke up the morning you were suppose to be leaving feeling like you had been punched in the stomach you groaned and shrugged it off. Luckily most of the day was going to be spent in the car.

Dismissing it as your usual cramps after your period you stuffed your duffle-bag into the car, opting for the backseat so you could starfish across the leather seats. All seemed well for the first two hours, the car seemed to be getting hotter though. And the pain in your stomach began to increase. Nausea set in around hour five. Curled up in the backseat in a ball Wanda shot nat a look.

<shes acting weird nat do you think shes ok?> she asked in Nat’s mind.

<if she needs us she well tell us>

<we both know that’s not true> Wanda shot back

You were in too much pain to notice the silent conversation. Your face pressed against the cool glass of the window. It was way too hot in the car.

“y/n/n what do you want for lunch, Natty’s getting us maccas.” When all she received was a groan she frowned. Being stopped at a red light Wanda unbuckled climbing into the backseat despite Natasha’s protests.

“y/n/n?” she asked running a hand through your sweaty hair. She frowned placing the back of her hand to your forehead. She gasped. “natty shes on fire” you whined when she pulled her cold hand away from your flaming skin.

“oh bug why didn’t you tell us you didn’t feel good sweets?” muttering something unintelligent you flopped against her. Chuckling slightly she pulled you closer.

“natty can you get her an ice water from maccas?”

“sure.”

Pulling into the drive through the nausea only worsened at the smell of greasy food. Wanda noticed the colour drain from your face. Rushing she seemingly pulled a sick bag from thin air with her magic, guiding it under your shaking chin as your breakfast reappeared. Nat tried not to frown at the gagging noises coming from the backseat as she ordered for the three of you. Asking Wanda if you were ok when she had finished ordering.

“I’m not sure natty shes a bit too warm for my liking and joined with the vomiting I don’t want her to get dehydrated. Did you order the water?”

“yes. We’ll keep an eye on her temp, I can stop of at the chemist for a fever reducer and thermometer if you like?” Wanda nodded her agreement chewing on her lip as she brushed back your hair as you laid against her thigh in a fever induced haze. She had used her magic to rid the bag of sick and had a fresh one on hand if you needed it again.

After a quick stop, nat returned with the goods and Wanda fed you the tablets passing the water to you and holding the straw to your lips. Your eyes were glazed and your body ached.

“oh sweetheart. You really don’t feel good do you love?” nat asked looking at your shaking body. You whined like a child in response too tired to form proper words. Wanda tapped your cheek, using her thumb to tilt down your chin and open your mouth. She slipped the thermometer inside and waited for it to beep. When it did she removed it guiding your head back to her lap before looking at the number. Wanda hummed her disapproval upon seeing the flashing screen.

“what is it love?”

“102.8 too high for our sweet angel hmmm” she ran her hands through your hair again, rubbing your back to help you rest.

“that doesn’t sound good baby.”

With about a half hour to go, your eyes flew open, Wanda startled by your sudden movement pulled you upright, shoving the bag under your chin just in time as what small lunch you had spilled down you chin. With a choked sob, you continued to throw up. “shhh baby your ok. Your ok” Wanda cooed, still holding the bag. When you stopped Wanda waved her hand replacing the bag with her magic and guiding you back to her lap where you fell back into a fitful sleepy fever induced haze. Wanda took your temperature again slightly happier with the number but it hadn’t lowered by much. It would be a matter of a cold shower when they reached the cabin. You were silent the rest of the trip there save for fevered mutterings and the occasional groan. When you finally pulled in, Wanda peeled you off her lap. Passing you to nat who held you bridal style as Wanda climbed out and unlocked the door. Heading straight for the shower you were stripped of your clothes whining at the ice cold air on your fevered and flushed skin. Wanda guided you to the shower practically holding you up as the water ran over you. Despite your struggling she didn’t once let go as she held you and nat washed your body clean of the sweat that had soaked your clothes.

“shh love its ok” she cooed stroking back your damp hair from your face

After the shower from hell, as you called it, nat and Wanda dressed you in fluffy

PJs before carrying you to the bed and putting the sick bag on the bedside table. Your girls snuggled up with you.

“what about the car. We need to unpack” you yawned.

“don’t worry your pretty little head about it love your far more important.”

“plus I can use my magic to unpack it from here love” Wanda stated.

“okay” you sighed curling into Nat’s shoulder as Wanda wrapper her arms around you.

“goodnight sweetheart.” Nat cooed, stroking your hair back.

“night wands. night Tasha. Love you guys.”

“good night love. We love you too. Now sleep baby.”

Masterlist

#marvel #the avengers #wanda maximoff #wandanat #wanda x natasha #natasha romanov #wanda x y/n #natasha marvel #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #wandanat sic fic #wanda fanfic #wanda marvel #wandanat x reader #wandanat sick #wanda comfort #sic fic #sick reader #vomiting #marvel sickfic #fanfic #holiday #carsick #sicktember #sictember #marvel pov #throw up #hurt/comfort #fanficton

[kayoi1234]

top 5 meals with pasta? top 5 cups/mugs you have?

Thanks for the ask! Here we go:

TOP 5 PASTA DISHES

Lasagne

The specific spaghetti that my grandma makes

Fried Fish with pesto

Baked Pasta

One specific chicken pesto pasta salad from one specific store

TOP 5 CUPS I HAVE OWNED

My little green handmademug

My little handleless handmade teal mug

the winnie the pooh mug that has long since went missing

A mug that had my name printed on it because I had a period of time in primary school where I was a narcisstic little shit and continental soup was doing a promotion

A glass cup from maccas when the 2012 olympics were running although I realise now there were different kinds I will clarify I got the coloured glasses.

#ask #coffee-without-anesthetics #kayoi bullshits again #txt #ask game #honestly run of the mill food opinions #other contenders include: the one chilli prawn pasta my local rashays will not sell anymore #gnocchi from anywhere but specifically one good italian place that was way too expensive #and unsauced spaghetti noodles at 7PM after dinner

[dizzythensick]

Got my eyes tested by a guy with a broken arm. The way he spoke was extremely annoying, slow paced and slurry. This made the news that my right eye is worse off than my left more troublesome to me, “hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, seems likeeeeeee, youre about 0.50+ in your left…. Burrrrt about 1.50+ in your right!” {pause to rub cast against table} “you’re suuuuuper reliant on your glasses, that’s why thryre like… different”. The conclusion of my results is still elusive to me, I walked out of the testing room and the casted optometrist said nothing. I looked to the clerk, put on my shy sheepy face and asked for further instruction. She asked if there were any glasses I liked. I said yes. She asked which, I said I couldn’t remember. I left. Thatwasexhausting. Rewarded myself for not throwing a fit at the dumb people at Oscar Wylee to a Starbucks drink, albeit upon reflection, I’m failing to see how this was a reward, as the drink came out to be $2.46 per mouthful (I LEGIT GOT 3 SIPS OUT OF MY $7 DRINK). Walked up the street to meet Ovy at Biang Biang Noodle. On Tuesdays we eat and walk around together, she gets late lunch and I eat my early dinner between our classes. We got a rougon each and she told me about how peglegs had made big moves of cutting sexual ties with her that afternoon. We rejoiced, purchased a tub of ttebotki to share and sat near my bus stop and ate. Food was real fucking good, a truly filling and exciting meal. Honestly, a little bit too exciting for me, as my nose started to run as I was overcome by the spices. In true form Ivy reached into her bag and gave me a napkin. Thanks. This is the second time we’ve sat at a bench in the city to eat a flakey/meaty treat, it’s like our thing now. After we were like errrrrm should we get ice cream and like um duh yes we should, so walked to McDonalds across the street. This is where the story takes a dark and eery turn. As we clicked on the dessert section of the ordering screen… it said that all ice cream products… were SOLD OUT! Truly hit with the fabled “our ice cream machine broke” lore. Sigh. Literally we simultaneously sighed and frightened a woman next to us. Glob! Ok so new plan was to go to gyg for soft serve and get margarita, mix them together to concoct junky spider, but came to our senses. No good things come from a gyg frozen margarita. Anyway we waited, oh I don’t know like, way to fucking long for our ice creams. Gave us time to swear never to work at the 24/hr gyg on Swanston St. Jesus Christ. How does one operate a fast food restaurant every hour of the day without killing thyself. Also save yourselves the disappointment, gyg dulce de leche soft serve just tastes like processed sugar and cold. Those are all of the flavours. God I wish the maccas machines were working. I departed from my beloved at 5:08, quick hug goodbye. Ovy was off to see Violet and Odi later that afternoon and I was in for 70 mins of chill out half asleep on the bus time on the way to tafe. On to do great things with our evenings. Or so I thought…..

After catching the same Tuesday bus for the past 9 weeks, I’ve come accustomed to taking a 45 minute sleep, broken by a timer on my phone. Waking up from my nap this afternoon I was awakened to two rude surprises: - My phone was dead. - I was not near Heidelberg West. I panicked a little. ‘hmmmm what have I done here..’ I thought. I asked the lady wearing two apple watches what bus I was on, to which she replied “251”. Oh awesome. In my gyg soft serve haze I accidentally took the 251 not the 250. I really wasn’t sure what to do, get off and make an attempt to get back to the city? Catch til the end of the line for no good reason other than post nap paralysis? Nice!! So yeah got to northland shopping centre lol, got out and followed two trench coat wearing gentlemen into the centre. At this point I just abandoned the idea of going to tafe which as I’m writing I regret. I could be sanding wood right now soooo not champers. I’m so fascinated by outer suburb shopping centres, as they give off a strong Brisbane energy that I find familiar and comforting. I did a lap, There was a chick closing down the Daniels Donuts playing the loudest fucking trap music, I was half like go shawty half like thou art cringe. Not much else to report from Northlands shopping center dear readers, save yourself the trip I suppose is all I can say. Boarded the 251 again. Bad omens as soon as I stepped on as the driver was plauing popdan style mashups on his phone. Just end your suffering man don’t inflict this harm unto others. The bus trip has been fine thus far, mostly empty. One gentleman got on at the stop outside of a TAB betting ‘institute’, he seems quite tipsy hehe. And alas this is where I leave you.

[alexin-wonderlust]

Day Eleven - Tokyo

17th November 2022

How much Tokyo can we do in 3 days -- LETS GO!

Today is Ikebukuro -- first off, breakfast. We found some cute pastries, but also wanted McDonalds... Surprisingly -- some of the best Maccas Ive had in the longest time. Ben had the "World Cup Burger" and I had a Chicken Teriyaki burger and a strawberry and white chocolate pastry... OMG YUM. So good.

Next up to Sunshine City -- we are going to a Planetarium. There are about 5 (?) planetariums in Tokyo and some of them have cafe's and show movies, and we really just wanted to experience one. They're not super expensive and are a cute way to spend some time. We watched a documentary about space and the Earth -- it was in Japanese but, it had lovely music and amazing visuals. It gave us a chance to relax before our day really kicked off. We went to the Food Hall and looked at the over priced and fancy groceries, grabbed snacks -- of course. I went to the Evangelion Store and spent a small fortune, then NEXT -- to Harajuku.

There was a lot of construction happening along Takeshita Street so we didn't spend long in Harajuku -- but we did get the candied strawberries again (the ones in Arashiyama were better!) and went to Harajuku Zoo -- a petting zoo with small animals like meerkats, ferrets and apparently a capybara (I didn't see him!). They were cute and stinky! They seemed to be looked after well enough, but the monkey there wasn't having a good time. :(

As we were walking back to the station we were looking in the P's First shop (Petshop) and the girl was getting sassy with us for being tourists -- a guy was walking 16 dogs at one time! So cute! SO MANY FLOOFERS!

Apparently I haven't tortured Ben's feet enough today -- so our next stop is Shibuya, and we walked. It's honestly quicker than the train at 6pm, and its a nice walk. On the look out for food always, we walked past some interesting spots to check out later... but we are going to the Nintendo Store before they close.

The Nintendo Store is part of the Shibuya Parco and its on the same level as the Pokemon Centre, as well as some other nerdy shops like Capcom and some Anime brands I don't know. The Animal Crossing merch was my favourite -- I almost cried when I saw you could buy the floor mat, the slippers, hat, shirt, fan... all the Nook branded items from Animal Crossing New Horizons. That game was so much to me during 2020 lockdown and recovery.

There was a huge line to check out, and Ben went and sussed the food options on other floors while I waited in line. We tried a ramen that claimed it was Tonkatsu, but it DEFINITELY had fish in it and it was not good. Even I couldn't stand it. Ah well. One failed meal! Not too bad?

Downstairs there was another area with bars and izakaya type places with some finger foods. We had some olives with bread and an amazing yuzu olive oil and some cocktails. Then we went somewhere else for sake tasting -- then I managed to convince Ben to go to a Drag Bar where there was a Japanese Drag Queen! It was amazing. Back to the hotel and I relised, we still hadn't really eaten much since breakfast... I got Ben to find another ramen restaurant close to us and we managed to find an absolute WINNER. The pickled ginger was crunchy, like nothing I have ever eaten before... the Melon Soda was huge. Bigger than a pint glass -- and the ramen. So good.

Ben was happy!

IG Post: "Day Ten: Ikebukuro, Harajuku, Shibuya

Now, no judgement on the maccas first up. It was actually really good! I love getting McDonald’s in foreign countries.. the menu is always different and it was amazing. I had a Teriyaki Chicken Burger with a white chocolate and strawberry pastry thing… it was AMAZING. 🥰

The rest of the day we snacked… then we were starving and tried to find some food. Ramen? It wasn’t good. I left it out of the photos. So instead we got snacks and got drunk on sake. 🍶

When Ben was still hungry, it was late night ramen adventure and we found a winner. It was so yum!"

"First full day in Tokyo so we are heading to the big ones first. Starting with Ikebukuro to the Planetarium— no photos though. It was a nice, relaxing movie about Earth and how things work. (In Japanese…) but the music was nice and the visuals were awesome.

After, we went shopping, ended up in Harajuku and visited an animal cafe and I got to hang out with a furry noodle and a meerkat, who was very lovely.

The new Pokémon game is coming out tomorrow, so I made the genius decision to go to the Nintendo store today; before it gets mental. The Nintendo store is awesome. I cried… you’ll have to wait for my vlog 😂

After, we tried to find some food… but being that both Ben and I aren’t fish eaters… it gets tricky. The ramen we settled on definitely had some sort of fish in it and we couldn’t finish it. So we just got drunk instead. Found a drag Queen bar and then walked back to Shibuya station to see the crossing and Hachiko. 🐕🥹🙏"

#bennyandthelex #alexinwonderlust #travelblog #traveladdict #travelphotos #adventure #explore #escape #seetheworld #holiday #travel #igtravel #instapassport #ig_travel #traveller #travelgram #travelbug #travelpics #instatravel #travelgoals #japan #tokyo #bennyandthelexadventures #foodadventures #shibuya #harajuku #nintendo store japan #nintendo store

[dot-vinci]

My maternal grandmother, my Nan, or Pam, depending on my mood, has been a great source of conflict for my family for almost a decade now.

My Nan grew up in a small country town and from what I’ve been told had both a rocky relationship with her parents, but also managed to get everything she ever wanted. No one ever told her no. She married my Pop, the town's bachelor and a downright good bloke, but I’m sure he had his fair share of troubles.

I can only look back on them with fondness and nostalgia. I loved going to see them, even after their divorce. Nan in her small home, full of knitting goods and swarovski crystal animals and Pop, out in the country, shed full of tools and glass. We’d all go to the movies when we went to visit and were treated to Maccas or KFC for lunch, a feast for champions when we were kids, even now I guess. Nan would drive us there in her little black Ford Focus, and we’d have the time of our lives. Always laughing and smiling.

My Pop, Ken, but always Pop, grew up with a POW as a father. He had severe PTSD and would abuse his family, Pop taking the brunt of it. He was an incredibly strong person. I still have the lead-light animals we made together, a frog and a bird. And his glass samples that I refuse to let go of, we weren’t given a chance to take anything we wanted when he died. All I managed was two jackets and the glass samples. I just wanted a piece of him and something to remember him by. Pop lived out on a farm with goats and a cow. Rosie and Fluffy Duck were the friendlier ones. He had a few dogs over the years as well, Roxy the Rottweiler and Dougan being the more memorable ones. We’d go and visit him and stay the night, and when we did that would mean three trips into town just to go to IGA, he loved having a chat with the checkout chicks. We’d usually go to the rat shop for dinner, and if we were lucky we’d get $2 to choose lollies we wanted.

Pop helped teach at the local school, he’d been doing woodworking for a majority of his life, so he helped out there and at the mens shed. He was utterly and truly beloved by the community. After a hard day's work he’d be found having a beer at the top pub or watching a game of footy, the Cats being his favourite team. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss him.

In 2012, the year it all kinda turned to shit for me, a cursed year, Pam got drunk. It was my Pops birthday and he wanted to celebrate it with his family. At this point in time we were living in another state and it was rare to see them. Pam wanted to have dinner with Pop, but they’d been divorced for years now and he had no interest in spending time with her. From what I’ve heard, and I don’t know much about this, she went to my Aunt’s house and screamed at the family and abused them all, my Pop, two of his daughters and their kids. I don’t know what was said, I don’t really care to ask. I don’t speak with that side of my family much anymore, I think it’s a lack of understanding on both sides. Pam went to his house in a rage and organised a ‘murder room’. She had tools and weapons laid out and had moved furniture so that she wouldn’t struggle. Pop came home later that night and Pam attacked him and stabbed him. He fought her off and she fled. Pop called one of my Aunt’s and she raced out there with her daughter, a nurse. I can’t fathom how traumatising that would’ve been. Nan turned herself in the next morning and Mum flew down as soon as she heard.

Nan ended up going to jail for a few months for aggravated assault or burglary, they were too scared to try her for attempted murder. She spent some time in a psych ward and this is where they diagnosed her with Borderline Personality Disorder, something I still struggle to understand. In my mind, I understand it as they don’t like feeling isolated and when they feel that way they can lash out and have major depressive episodes, that’s how it’s always come across to me and I could be very wrong.

No one wanted to speak to Nan, no one wanted anything to do with her. She was a black mark on that side of the family. I’m the only fool that still remembers her as Nan I guess. A year or so later I met up with her, my Dad coming with me to make sure it would go okay, and it was strange. She was still the person I knew and loved. I think maybe because I didn’t experience it, I couldn’t imagine her doing those horrible things. That’s why I initially went to see her.

Every year, for Boxing Day, my mothers side of the family meets up and catches up. I had a panic attack that year. Everyone kept bad mouthing her, my Nan, but she was a monster to them. I understand why no one wants to associate with her, truly I do, but I don’t understand why my decision couldn’t be respected and why they couldn’t be more mindful. Having my mother lecture me about how I was behaving inappropriately sealed the deal for me. I was very much so done with that side of my family.

I feel bad for Nan, she went through trauma in her youth that she never got treatment for, she never got help. I um, I don’t understand why people can’t sympathise with that. She did something horrifying, yes, but she’s not a monster. She’s just a frail old lady now that can barely remember my name. She’s very good at holding grudges though, so a very stubborn frail old lady. I relate to her in a way, which sounds fucking horrifying. I think we’re both very much so just waiting to die. We get no enjoyment of fulfilment from life. Nan’s done her part, had kids, had grandkids, and is ready to go now. She hates leaving her room for no reason and going out for no reason. Trying to get her to go for a walk for exercise is impossible, it’s like pulling teeth honestly. ‘Why would I do that?’ ‘Where am I going?’ I understand her completely, what’s the point if there’s not a goal in mind? It’s not as if she has friends to go with either, she’s burnt a lot of those bridges. Mum and I are the only people she’s got, and now one of my Aunts I guess, they’re on speaking terms now.

I just think it’s sad that she’s alone now, after everything. I don’t know. I just, if that was me in her position I would’ve walked into the bush, never to return. She’s got a little flair for the dramatic though, so if she did that it’d be where people could find her. It’s still unsettling for me to go and visit her, especially when she mentions she wants to drink. As far as I’m aware she’s sober and has been since she was jailed. I find alcohol only brings out the absolute worst in people. She asks us questions about her grandkids and we can’t answer them, we can’t tell her she has great grandkids. We can’t force them to have relationships either, as much as she wants to see them all again.

I don’t know why Nan and Pop were together for so long, he probably thought he could help her. I would’ve thought she was too far gone for help, until she had an episode last week. A nurse, a truly vile man who should have known better, called her a liar and it sent her spiralling. Nan recognised her behaviour was inappropriate later and apologised for it. Well, she tried to, she couldn’t find the exact words to convey how she felt, but Mum was surprised.

I think maybe there’s hope for everyone out there. It might be foolish, but maybe it’s not too late for people to get help. I mean, I’d hope so.

#ramblings #thoughts #vent post

[megan1412]

Paul in John’s glasses 🥸❤️

(Edit: Apparently these are Paul’s glasses lol. You learn new things everyday!)

#the beatles #paulmccartney #1960's music #musicians #he looks so cute in glasses #meanwhile John is stumbling around #macca where’s my glasses?

[annecoulmanross]

Top Ten Historical Figures Done Dirty by The Terror (2018)

So, we all know and love Dave Kajganich and Soo Hugh’s beautiful show, right? Of course. But it’s important to set the historical record straight, especially when there are real people’s life-stories and legacies on the line. 

(NOTE: this list is biased heavily toward upper-class individuals because the historical record does a better job preserving those voices for us. Was the real Cornelius Hickey as nasty a person in real life as he was in the show? Almost certainly not – which is why we’re given “E.C.” as a nod to the fact that we shouldn’t assume these characters represent real historical villains, even when the narrative makes them antagonists; HOWEVER, not everyone in the show was given the same courtesy as the OG “Cornelius Hickey.” Which is why this post exists – to show you the best sides of some people you might not otherwise appreciate for their full humanity. That being said, keep in mind the sources used – and, for instance, who has surviving portraits and who doesn’t.)

Thus, below the cut, I give you this list, (mostly) in order from #10 (honorable mention, only somewhat slandered) to #1 (most hideously maligned) – my list of characters from The Terror who deserved better. 

(Please don’t take this too seriously – I know there are reasons why choices had to be made in order to make this show work on television, and I do very much love the end product. But I also genuinely think it’s a good idea to remember the real people behind these characters, and think critically about how we depict them ourselves.) 

Bottom Tier – The Overlooked Men of the Franklin Expedition

#10. Richard Wall – & – John Diggle

We’re combining these two because they had a lot in common, historically speaking! Both were polar veterans, having served as a Cook (Wall) and an AB-then-Quartermaster (Diggle) on HMS Erebus under the command of Sir James Clark Ross in the Antarctic expedition of 1839-1843. Certainly we do get some good scenes with them in the show, but there was plenty more to explore there – for instance, Captain Ross was apparently so taken with Richard Wall that he hired him on as a private cook after the Antarctic expedition. (One imagines that Sir James may have regretted letting his friends of the Franklin expedition steal Wall out from under him.)

(If you want some more information on Diggle, the brilliant @handfuloftime​ found this excellent article on him – fun facts include the detail that Diggle’s only daughter bore the name Mary Ann Erebus Diggle.) 

#9. John Smart Peddie 

Now, I don’t think we should go as far as the Doctor Who Audio Drama adaptation of the Franklin Expedition, which makes Peddie into Francis Crozier’s oldest friend, someone “almost like a brother” to Crozier (no evidence of ANY prior relationship between the two existed, contrary to whatever the Doctor Who Audio Dramas would have you believe!) but Peddie probably earned his place as chief surgeon, however fond we may all be of the beautiful Alex “Macca” MacDonald, who was, in fact, the Assistant Surgeon, historically speaking. It’s hard to find information about Peddie, but someone should go looking! I want to know about this man! 

(If you want to know more about the historical Alexander MacDonald, there’s a short biographical article on him from Arctic that you can read here.)

#8 James Walter Fairholme

The only one of the expedition’s lieutenants who doesn’t really get any characterization in the show, which is a travesty! The historical Fairholme (pronounced “Fairem”) was, as they say, a himbo, and the letters that he wrote home to his father are positively precious. He loved the expedition pets (lots of kisses for Neptune!), and he needed two kayaks because he couldn’t fit into just one with his beefy thighs. Fitzjames loaned him a coat when all the Erebus officers had their portraits taken, and then called him a “smart, agreeable companion, and a well informed man,” and Goodsir singled Fairholme out as “very much interested” in the work of naturalist observations. Just a lovely young man who could have gotten some screen time, you know? 

(Also, as @transblanky​ discovered, four separate members of the Fairholme family gave money to Thomas Blanky’s widow when she was struggling financially in the 1850s, making them, combined, the most generous contributor to her subscription.) 

Middle Tier – Franklin’s Men Who Didn’t Deserve That

#7. William Gibson

Alright, I want to talk about how uniquely horrible the show’s William Gibson is: this is a character willing to lie and accuse his partner of sexual assault that didn’t happen. I get there were extenuating circumstances, but if I were a historical figure who died in some famous disaster and someone depicted me doing something like that? Let’s just say I’m deeply offended on the real Gibson’s behalf. 

What do we know about the historical William Gibson? Not much – but we know a little. Gibson’s younger brother served on an overland exploratory venture across Australia in the 1870s… from which he never returned. (God, the Gibson family had the worst luck?) This description of a conversation that young Alf Gibson had with expedition leader Ernest Giles only days before his death is VERY eerie: 

[Gibson] said, “Oh! I had a brother who died with Franklin at the North Pole, and my father had a deal of trouble to get his pay from government.” He seemed in a very jocular vein this morning, which was not often the case, for he was usually rather sulky, sometimes for days together, and he said, “How is it, that in all these exploring expeditions a lot of people go and die?” 

I said, “I don't know, Gibson, how it is, but there are many dangers in exploring, besides accidents and attacks from the natives, that may at any time cause the death of some of the people engaged in it; but I believe want of judgment, or knowledge, or courage in individuals, often brought about their deaths. Death, however, is a thing that must occur to every one sooner or later.” 

To this he replied, “Well, I shouldn't like to die in this part of the country, anyhow.” In this sentiment I quite agreed with him, and the subject dropped.

(From Giles’s Australia Twice Traversed which you can read here) 

Beyond that, one thing we do know is that William Gibson was probably friends with Henry Peglar – they had served on ships together before, and Gibson may possibly have been the poor fellow found cradling the Peglar Papers, according to researcher Glenn Stein. So we might imagine the historical Gibson as a much kinder man than the show’s depiction of him – this was someone who befriended the clever, playful Peglar we all know and love from the transcriptions of his papers, so full of poetry and linguistic jokes. It’s a shame we didn’t get a chance to meet this real Gibson, who actually knew the Henry Peglar whom we love so well.

#6. Stephen Stanley

Look. There’s that one famous line in James Fitzjames’s letters to the Coninghams about how Stanley went about with his “shirt sleeves tucked up, giving one unpleasant ideas that he would not mind cutting one’s leg off immediately – ‘if not sooner.’” And certainly Harry Goodsir had some mixed opinions of the man, saying was “a would be great man who as I first supposed would not make any effort at work after a time,” and that he “knows nothing whatever about subject & is ignorant enough of all other subjects,” whatever…. that means…. 

But Fitzjames also had some rather nicer things to say about him, that he was “thoroughly good natured and obliging and very attentive to our mess.” Also, the amputation comment? Very likely had a quite positive underlying joke to it – Stanley may not have been much of a naturalist, but he was actually an accomplished anatomist, who won a prize for dissection in 1836, on account of his “bend of the elbow,” which was “a picture of dissection,” according to Henry Lonsdale, who also called Stanley his “facetious friend” and “a fine fellow” (Lonsdale 1870, pg. 159). So, the real Stanley probably was rather droll, but the perpetually cruel Stanley of the show misses some of the real man’s major historical virtues and replaces them with historically unlikely mass-mercy-murder. 

#5. John Irving

Now we’re getting into the territory of characters who did get some good development, but are missing a bit of historical nuance. As I’m sure many of you know, the historical Irving was indeed very religious, but the flashes of anger (i.e. against Manson) we see from Irving in the show don’t seem terribly consistent with the Irving depicted in this memorial volume, where John seems more like a quiet, bookish, mathematically inclined young man, with a self-deprecating sense of humor and a gentle sweetness. It’s really not at all far off from the version of Irving we see with Kooveyook in the show – I just wish we could have seen more of that side of Irving. 

Top Tier – The Triumvirate of Polar Friends

So, these three DO have many good things to recommend them in the show, but because I’ve done such deep research on them, it can be quite jarring to watch certain scenes in which they behave contrary to their historical personalities, and I find myself pausing when watching the show with friends or family to explain that NO, they wouldn’t do that! 

#4. Sir James Clark Ross

First thing – we LOVE Richard Sutton. He did a beautiful job with the material given to him. (This is true of all the actors on the list, frankly, but it’s doubly true here.) But that scene at the Admiralty where Sir James tells Lady Franklin “I have many friends on those ships, as you know,” to shut down her argument for search missions? At that time (aka 1847), historically, Sir James Clark Ross was actively campaigning for search missions, planning routes and volunteering his services in command of any vessel the Admiralty even vaguely contemplated sending out. You could see this real-life desperation in Sir James’s morose attention to his whiskey glass in that scene if you’re really trying, but I think the more historically responsible thing would have been to make vividly clear that James Ross risked life and limb, as soon as he possibly could, to try to rescue Franklin and Crozier and Blanky, men he’d known and cared about and bitterly missed – and, in the case of Crozier, “truly loved.” 

#3. Sir John Franklin

The historical Franklin had plenty of flaws – his contributions to British colonial rule certainly harmed no small number of people, and we should question the way that heroic statues of Franklin are some of the only memorials that serve to honor the lives lost on Franklin’s expeditions – especially considering the steep body count of not only Franklin’s final voyage, but his previous missions in Arctic regions as well. (DM me and I’ll scream at you about counter-monuments! Is this a promise or a threat? Who knows!) With that said, most contemporary accounts agree that Sir John Franklin treated his friends, his family, and those within his social orbit with kindness, and his cruelties were systemic, not personal. In this light, the image of Sir John viciously tearing into Francis Crozier’s vulnerabilities in the show feels very off. Though there was certainly some friction over Crozier’s two proposals to Sophia Cracroft, historically speaking, there’s no evidence at all that Sir John discouraged her from marrying Francis – Sophia may have had many reasons of her own (*clears throat meaningfully in a lesbian sort of way*) for not accepting any of the several marriage proposals offered to her (from Crozier as well as from others), and we ought to keep in mind that she remained unmarried all her life. The notion that the real Sir John would have considered Crozier too low-born or too Irish to be part of the Franklin family isn’t grounded in historical fact.

#2. Lady Jane Franklin

Again disclaimer: the real Lady Franklin left behind a legacy with much to critique. Those who rightfully point out the racism of her treatment of the young indigenous Tasmanian girl Mathinna should be fully heard out. Observations of her own contributions to imperialism are important and valid. Though I tend to see her feud with Dr. John Rae as somewhat understandable – given that Lady Franklin didn’t have the benefit of our hindsight knowing Rae was correct – the levels of prejudice that she enabled and even encouraged in the writing of Charles Dickens when he attempted to discredit Inuit accounts of Franklin’s fate are inarguably deplorable. These things being said, everything noted for Sir John re: Sophia Cracroft goes for Lady Franklin as well – there’s no reason to imagine a scene where Jane would bully Francis Crozier within an inch of his life, seconds after a failed second proposal, when, historically, Lady Franklin felt the situation was so delicate that it required the quiet and compassionate intervention of Sir James Clark Ross, a dearly loved mutual friend to all parties. Tension does not imply aggression; conflict is not abuse. We know this can’t have been an easy experience for the historical Francis Crozier, but the picture is a lot more complicated than what can be shown in one small subplot of a ten-episode television show. Because of this complexity, however, Lady Franklin’s social deftness suffers in the show. (I could also write an entire essay about Jane Franklin’s last shot in the show, at the beginning of Episode 9: The C the C the Open C – TL;DR is that framing is very important, and, at the very last moment, the show reframes Lady Franklin as a mutilated corpse, a speaking mouth without a brain, which is….. a choice.)

And, at number 1, the person done most dirty by The Terror (2018) is….

#1. Charles Frederick “Freddy” Des Voeux 

Look. I’m biased here because I am fed daily information about the historical Freddy Des Voeux from @frederickdesvoeux​ so I’ve become, I think understandably, a bit attached. 

But this is very plainly the clearest cruelty the show does to a historical figure – the historical Des Voeux was a very young man (only around 20 when the ships set sail) known always as “Frederick or Freddy” to his family, and described by all parties as bright and sweet – Fitzjames said that he was “a most unexceptionable, clever, agreeable, light-hearted, obliging young fellow, and a great favourite of Hodgson’s, which is much in his favour besides,” and described him cheerfully helping to catch specimens for Goodsir. Des Voeux is named “dear” by Captain Osborn in Erasmus Henry Brodie’s 1866 poem on the Franklin Expedition (43) and Leo McClintock reported the young man’s well-known “intelligence, gallantry, and zeal” in his 1869 update to his account of the Franklin Expedition’s fate (xlii). None of this is consistent with Des Voeux’s behaviour in the show, especially in the later episodes. 

To reduce Des Voeux to an easily-detested figure, over whose death one might cheer, is not a kindness – the creation of a narrative where his death is satisfying does damage to the memory of a real person, a barely-more-than-teenager who died in the cold of the Arctic and left behind only scraps of a shirt and a spidery signature in the bottom margin of a fragmentary document. 

Television shows may need their villains, but it’s important to remember that real life isn’t like that. Surely the historical Frederick Des Voeux was most likely not a perfect person, and, as an upper class officer contributing to a British imperial project, he does bear some responsibility for the harm done by the Franklin expedition, but it’s not accurate to assume he was any less worthy of sympathy than the other officers who considered him a friend – those men whom we now venerate, like James Fitzjames. So as far as I’m concerned, Freddy Des Voeux deserves at least as much consideration, care, and compassion from us. 

#franklin expedition #franklin expedition fictions #the terror #the terror amc #terrorposting #long post

[mysweetgeo]

I Need You (Part 11)

Summary: Sequel Series to the Do You Want to Know a Secret ? Series. Reader accepts a job as a photographer for a band as they begin a tour mid-1966, what happens when she finds out that she knows them ?

After the last concert in Germany, specifically Hamburg, the six of you headed back to the hotel, and while Brian wanted to stay in, the five of you that remained decided to head out to the pubs to celebrate a successful concert.

You all were squished into a booth, and you were sat between George and John, and John had his arm slung around your shoulders as the two of you were gulping down pint after pint.

You were drunkenly singing a Buddy Holly tune as you swayed back and forth in the booth knocking shoulders with both George and John.

George had noticed that you and John both weren’t slowing down with the drinks so he decided he’d better, to make sure you didn’t get hurt.

You linked arms with John and gasped, a brilliant idea coming to your mind, “John! Can we have a sleepover?!” You asked, nearly shrieking.

John grinned, “Yeah! A sleepover!” He agreed enthusiastically.

George bit his lip to bite back the bitter comment that was sure to come out if he opened his mouth.

“And Geo can come too!” You said, whipping around to wrap your arms around George’s neck.

“Sure, darling,” George drawled, never having been able to say no to you.

“Yay!” You said with a giggle, holding onto George and pulling yourself so you were straddling his lap while giving him a tight hug.

George held your waist for support, obviously not complaining about you being in his lap.

Paul whined from across the booth, “What about me? Can I come?” He looked at you, begging with large puppy dog eyes.

“No!” John shrieked, suddenly speaking up.

Paul visibly pouted and whimpered, obviously upset.

You pouted your lip when you saw Paul so upset, “Of course you can Paulie,” you said with a gentle smile, moving out of George’s lap to lean across the table and hold his hand. “And you too, Ringo,” you said, reaching out for his hand as well.

While you held the other lads hands, George was holding onto your waist, not only to steady you but also just to have you in his close proximity.

Paul’s face split in a grin and he leaned across the table to plant a kiss on your lips, which you instantly recoiled from, retreating back into George’s arms.

John and Ringo watched the scene unfold, seeing how George’s arms tightened around you as you placed your hands on top of his on your stomach.

“Don’t ever do that again, Macca,” George threatened, his eyes turning black in anger.

“‘m sorry, love, I didn’t mean anything by it—“ Paul tried to explain but no one was having any of it.

Your eyes were still wide in shock as your grip on George tightened, needing to feel some source of comfort.

Sensing that this scenario wasn’t going to dissolve itself, Ringo spoke up, “I think maybe Paul and I should go back to the hotel, ‘m sure he didn’t mean any harm,” he spoke, standing from the booth and letting Paul climb out after him.

“I’m very sorry, (Y/N),” Paul whispered as he and Ringo walked away, in a voice that was barely audible.

You just nodded, not trusting your words as you watched the pair of them walk away.

“Well that sure was a mood-killer, eh?” John said with a huff, taking a large gulp from his pint, as he slid Paul’s half empty glass towards himself.

You nodded as you took a large drink from your glass, downing the remaining contents in one gulp.

George held you close to his chest, seeing as you were still somewhat startled by Paul’s actions.

You turned your head to look at George, your hand reaching up to caress his jaw, “Georgie? Can you get me another pint?” You asked in a sweet voice, which nearly caused George to burst out laughing, your romantic gesture greatly contrasting the words that came from your lips.

“Of course, darling,” he answered, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, “but I have to get up in order to do that.”

You whined contorting your body so that your top half was pressed against his chest, “No,” you whimpered, your arms wrapping around his neck as faux tears appeared in the corners of your eyes, “don’t leave me.”

“Let the lad get us a pint,” John complained from beside you, “he’ll only be gone a minute anyhow.”

You frowned at his bluntness, though you slid yourself out of George’s lap and released him from your clutches, “Okay,” you said in a very sad voice.

George’s heart ached to see you like this, even if it was something as silly as this, “I’ll be right back, princess,” he whispered, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your cheek just before he walked away.

When George returned, he found that you were sitting across from John where Paul and Ringo had been not long ago. You had told him you moved because he was ‘annoying you’ and because he ‘smelt bad’.

George set two pints on the table, one for you and one for John, before settling into the seat beside you.

“We’re still having a sleepover, yeah?” John asked, swirling his drink around in his glass.

“Well, duh,” you deadpanned, “what else do bestfriends do.”

“Well, you and George are ‘bestfriends’ and I’m sure that you two have done the deed. So if you’re interested—“ John began but was cut off by George.

“Not gonna happen, lad,” he said in a threatening tone.

You giggled at the exchange, leaning against George’s shoulder, “We haven’t done anything, Johnny,” you said.

“Obviously, you could cut the sexual tension with a knife,” John muttered, though both of you could hear it.

You blushed and looked down, smiling softly as you felt George’s arm wrap around your shoulders.

“You two make me sick,” John said, complimented by a fake gag.

“Oh shush,” you said, grabbing your pint and taking a large gulp from it. “After I finish this, let’s go back to the hotel.”

The boys nodded in agreement, and sat in silence as you and John finished your drinks.

+

You and John had your arms intertwined as you walked the streets back to the hotel, George following closely behind.

The two of you were drunkenly singing ‘That’ll Be The Day’ as you stumbled towards your room.

“All your hugs ‘n kisses,” you slurred, gripping onto John for dear life as George ushered you both into the lift.

“And your money too!” John chirped, hiccuping as he did.

“Well,” you drawled, “y’know you love me baby.”

John sputtered out a slew of words that didn’t hardly resemble the lyrics, causing you to burst into a fit of giggles, gripping onto George’s arm to steady yourself.

The two of you continued the song, skipping into the chorus as you sang in an ear piercing unison.

You got off the lift at your floor, pulling the two boys to your door as you suddenly remembered that you didn’t know where your key was.

“I’ve got it, love,” George murmured, coming up behind you and placing a hand on your back as he slipped the key into the lock and opened the door for you.

“Oh! My hero!” You cheered, wrapping your arms around his neck and pecking his cheek.

John let out a groan as he plopped himself on the bed, “You two best not fuck each other while I’m in the bed,” he said, being as blunt as humanly possible.

You rolled your eyes and detached yourself from George as you ran and launched yourself onto the bed, narrowly missing John’s body as you landed.

“Sometimes, I wish I could zip your mouth shut,” you said as you rolled over onto your back and scooted towards him.

John gasped, feigning hurt, “That is so mean! Take that back right this instant!” He shrieked.

“Never,” you said as you sleepily curled into his side, “Where’s my Georgie?” You asked, popping an eye open to look for him.

“Right here, love,” George answered, climbing into bed beside you.

You grinned and turned your body around to wrap your arms around his small frame, “Mm, I love this,” you said with a sigh of pure comfort.

George grinned and held you close to him, running his had up and down your back.

John whined, obviously jealous of the contact you and George were sharing, and crawled on top of you and George, wrapping his arm around you both and nesting his head against George’s shoulder.

George grunted at the sudden added weight, but didn’t voice any complaints as the three of you laid in silence.

You looked up at George with a drunken smile, “Hi,” you whispered.

He couldn’t help but grin at your expression, “Hi,” he replied quietly, as to not wake the beast that was now snoring and drooling on George’s shoulder.

Your breaths mixed with your close proximity, and you could only get closer to each other.

Soon your noses were pressed against one another as the two of you giggled.

Everything was funny to you in your drunken state.

Until it wasn’t.

Tears began pouring down your face and George’s smile and laughter were soon wiped away with a look of concern and worry.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He asked, caressing your cheek with his hand.

“It’s my fault,” you sobbed, leaning into George’s touch.

“What’re ye talking about?” He asked again, moving so that John naturally fell off of him and behind him on the bed.

“If I’d have just come to London with you, we would be together,” you cried, tears falling in large streams down your cheeks.

“Oh, love,” George sighed, pulling you to his chest. “My dear, sweet girl,” he whispered, “none of this is your fault, we were so young, and we weren’t ready for each other.”

You continued to cry into George’s chest, “I—I just love you s—so much, Geo,” you managed through body-rattling sobs.

“I love you too, so so much,” he murmured as he ran a hand over your hair and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Forever and ever, my darling.”

You fell asleep with your bodies intertwined, leaving no space between the two of you, and John tucked under the blankets behind George’s back.

#love #george harrison #the beatles #john lennon #music #paul mccartney #ringo starr #george #beatles x reader #george harrison fic #1966 #female reader

[unchartedthelostlegacy]

Chlodineweek Day 3: Reunion

It was good that Windows XP somehow didn’t notice that she had already failed at entering the correct password five times. 

Chloe gritted her teeth and glared back down at the keys, and began to peck at them one at a time like they were the platforms she’d jumped across in the axe fortress.

Tommyiscute2003.

Wrong.

TommyIhateyou03.

Wrong.

“How important is this?” Nadine called from Chloe’s childhood bed. She was flipping through an ancient Shonen Jump.

“Oh, don’t even start.”

“Why can’t you access it on your phone?”

Chloe touched her lips. “I think I wrote it...in my diary.”

“Frazer, let’s look at the Neopets on your phone and be done with it. You know they’re all dead anyway.”

Her casual tone made Chloe bristle all over again. She didn’t even remember what had started the argument. It had to have been something about Nathan Drake. Their entire trip back home to Chloe’s mum’s house in Australia’s capital had been peppered with back-and-forth character assassination focused on which of them had neglected and starved her Neopets more.

“You’re going to be dead before my Neopets are,” Chloe retorted, pushing back her hair, and noticing Nadine had slid off the twin bed and was rooting around in the drawers. “Excuse me, I didn’t give you permission to--”

“Find this?” Nadine tossed a book at her.

Chloe recognized it the moment it hit her hands. A pink-and-blue diary with a cute lock on the cover.

“I’m assuming you still have the key, Frazer?”

“Oh give me all of three seconds,” Chloe said with a chuckle, sitting and pulling the lockpick from her hair. “These are never--” click. “Here we go. Ah, it’ll be on the last page...I think.”

Nadine had rested her arm across the chair and around Chloe’s shoulders. “What’s that drawing?”

“That is me.”

Nadine’s laughter was scoffing. “And--and the hair?”

“That’s what I looked like,” Chloe paged away from the emo self portrait. “Makeup and all.”

“Oh, that hasn’t changed.”

“Very funny.”

Nadine leaned forward. “Who’s this Tommy you mention on every page?”

“You can actually read that? I’m impressed. I definitely have better handwriting now--”

“Chloe?’

Somehow, they hadn’t noticed footsteps on the stairs and down the hallway, but the click of the door made them both jump.

Chloe’s mother walked in, holding some mail, and blinked. Why would they have a guilty conscience now? Why did it feel like they’d been interrupted in something important and bad?

They were only two grown adults trying to break into an ancient computer because Neopets wasn’t mobile-optimized, after all. Chloe wanted to hiss to Nadine that her job was the lookout, but Nadine looked more terrified than Chloe had ever seen her; she had just about hopped back from the chair.

“Something came for you,” Leah Frazer said.

“I...see that,” Chloe said, hand going to her hair. “You can leave it, mummy.”

“Think it’s from your school.”

“From...which school?”

Leah shrugged her shoulders. “The uni you never went to? It’s from Tim M. Pierce High.”

And she wonders why I never visit. Chloe stood, pushing her hand through her loose, damp hair one last time, reaching out for the envelope with the familiar emblem in the corner.

She’d worn it on her silly skirt-and-polo uniform all those years ago, fighting its conformity with home-dyed streaks in her sharply cut hair and her eyeliner even more intense than she wore now. She might have switched it up with novelty contact lenses sometimes too--she wasn’t proud of that--but she could stop a black-pentagon-bedecked ball with one black-nailed hand and aced all her history tests.

Yes, Chloe remembered Tim M. Pierce, and she also remembered opting out of another few years of being treated like she was weird and dumb.

“Are they...asking for donations? Or something?”

“I think it’s an invitation,” Chloe’s mother said. “Might be having the reunion soon.”

“The reunion,” Chloe said, as if the word was foreign to her.

“Nice timing, isn’t it? You being back for the first time in forever. You could go.”

Chloe breathed out sharply through her nose as her mother closed the door and her footsteps paced back down the hall.

Nadine leapt in front of her. “Let’s go to a hotel, ja?”

“Are you scared of her, love? She’s not going to kill us.”

Nadine shook her head so emphatically Chloe actually had to look up from turning the envelope around in her hand. “She doesn’t like me. She doesn’t like me here.”

It took a long, embarrassing moment for Chloe to even pick up on what she meant.

“Oh. No, no,” Chloe laughed, waving her hand and turning back. “No, she’s mad at me, honey. Because I haven’t been in awhile and--”

“Frazer--”

“Nadine this is my mother. She doesn’t even know--no. She had--you’ve misjudged her.”

Nadine said, flatly, “I’ll find one myself.”

“Nadine, she’s not like that. She’s just snappy. I--I get it from her,” Chloe said, sitting back down. “Where were we? Oh yes, let’s find the password.”

“You didn’t even call ahead to tell her we were coming?”

Chloe felt the nerves in Nadine’s voice, but she also felt sick that her mother had inadvertently upset her. “I’ll talk to her, Nadine. I’ll tell her to--”

“No, no, no!” Nadine was really losing it, wasn’t she, wandering around the emo-band-poster-walled fortress with her face in her hands. “Don’t say it. Don’t say I told you to--that she--”

“Was making my partner uncomfortable?”

“Ja, that’s what you don’t tell her. Do not tell her that.”

“Oh relax,” Chloe said. “Between you and Nate, she’d throw him out of the house first.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That she judges character. Well. About that. You wanted to know about Tommy?” Chloe held out the open journal, showing a double-page spread of a crude drawing of a boy and her very impractically dressed self, holding hands. “He was my widdle baby crush. Mum didn’t like him.”

“Was he the psychopath type you always go for?”

Chloe laughed. “He was a good student. Squeaky-clean. She still hated the sight of him.”

“Ja, your drawing doesn’t really sell him either.”

Chloe returned fire by throwing the entire journal back at Nadine, who snatched it out of the air and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, glancing back at the door. Chloe turned back to the keyboard and typed the password that had been scrawled beneath the drawing:

ChloeAndTom4ever.

“Open sesame,” she said, as the startup noise pinged and the cursor did its loading animation.

“You think he’ll be at the reunion?” Nadine said.

“Oh, who goes to those? Did you go to yours?”

“My schools didn’t have them.”

“Well,” Chloe chuckled, but it was flat, nervous, “I didn’t enjoy my time at school, and I don’t see why I would want to be reminded.”

“Maybe he’s still single.”

“I doubt it. He’s balding and divorced, Nadine, one hundred percent. Crushes in your teen years do not hold up. Ah, here. Just...click on internet explorer...”

“God this is ancient,” Nadine muttered, having come over to hover at Chloe’s shoulder again. “Does it even have an antivirus?”

Chloe hovered the mouse over the taskbar. “McAfee.”

“Oh,” Nadine said. “Then, no.”

“I used the same password for Neopets! Let’s see. Oh. Well, the map is different. Didn’t it use to have Mcdonalds?”

Nadine bumped her arm. “I thought you called it Maccas or something here?”

Chloe squinted at her and said, “‘Didn’t it use to have Maccas?’”

Nadine’s laugh was worth it, even as Chloe reached up and gave her a poke in her stomach. Nadine held her stomach and flopped back on the bed. Chloe loved Nadine’s laugh to pieces, loved how it completely overcame her.

“See? My Neopets are all here. Nadine, pull yourself together!”

Nadine did, eventually, and came over to peer at the screen, at Chloe’s five Kaus and two Kougras of varying shades. “Starving. Starving. Starving,” Nadine recited, hovering the mouse over all of them. “Great parenting, Frazer.”

“All right, but they’re not dead, are they? I’ll just go get a free omelet and feed them now,” Chloe said.

“They’re not even wearing any clothes.”

“They’re animals, silly. They don’t wear clothes.”

Nadine snapped, “Let me log in.”

And Chloe had to stare at four perfectly dressed Mynci. Skirts, hats, entire outfits. And they were all fed.

“Someone,” Chloe said darkly, standing and grabbing Nadine’s shoulders, “Waited for me to fall asleep on the plane and logged into her account on the sly--”

“Or maybe I’m just proper at Neopets, Frazer?”

Nadine grappled her back, and they fell onto the twin mattress, giggling and slapping at each other.

“You didn’t even know they could wear clothes. All of them can wear any clothes--” Nadine was saying, as Chloe shook her by the shoulders, “not like those MMO’s that gender-lock everything--oh shit it’s your mum again--”

Nadine said the last few words lightning-fast, trying to separate from Chloe, who only grabbed her tighter, and they both tumbled to the carpet as Leah Frazer walked in.

“What are you doing. Chloe, I swear to God,” the woman said, setting a pitcher of lemonade down by the computer with two glasses. “Stop hitting Ms. Ross. You never grew up.”

“We weren’t fighting.”

“Oh come off it,” she said. “And get these posters off the walls. It feels like these freaks are about to stab me every time I walk in here.”

“You could have taken them off,” Chloe said, struggling to keep Nadine pinned to the fluffy floor. “Could have made it a nice guest room, chucked all my stuff in the bin--”

“So dramatic,” Leah said, taking her elbow and forcefully pulling her off Nadine. “And immature. Where did you get these cuts?”

She looked at Nadine too, taking her wrist, searching for the scabs that hadn’t quite healed off in the week or two since the end of their adventure in India. Nadine had treated hers, but Chloe’s definitely had worsened. “What were you doing there?”

“Mum, you remember how it was, the mosquitos--” Chloe said.

“Tree branches,” Nadine said tightly.

“--hiking is a--a contact sport--”

“You’re both lying,” Chloe’s mum said. “And to think you brushed it off when I told you about that insurrection. I was watching the news getting worse and worse and you didn’t even call to let me know you were all right, Chloe Frazer.”

The woman headed back to the door, but remembered something, as parents will after having already scolded you, and turned back. “Maybe you can show those photos at the reunion. They’re gorgeous.”

“Mum, I told you, nobody there was on my wavelength.”

Nadine burst out laughing.

A very rare smile came to Leah Frazer’s face. “Well, they usually allow a plus-one...”

#chlodine #chlodineweek #chlodineweek2021 #chloe x nadine #nadine x chloe #uncharted: the lost legacy #neopets saga

[babbushka]

Passover Prompt List

Because I couldn’t find any posts like this, here is a prompt list for fandom writers to use as they celebrate Passover! Feel free to take these in any direction that you’d like, and if you do happen to use this list, a reblog to spread the word is appreciated! 

Situational Prompts: 

Character A has never celebrated Passover before and Character B gives them a crash-course on the way to Seder dinner

Character A needs a fake date to Seder so their parents will stop asking questions and Character B agrees (we all know what happens next)

Character A is invited by Character B’s family without telling Character B, in the hopes they’ll get over themselves and tell each other how they feel already. 

Character A helping Character B make matzah from scratch and failing spectacularly

Character A and Character B make a bet to see who can go the longest without eating chametz 

Character A and Character B getting competitive over Passover Bingo 

Character A and Character B snuggling on the couch watching Passover specials on TV

Character A and Character B build a matzah-house after Seder 

Character A and Character B fighting for the last of the matzah toffee 

Character A and Character B confessing their feelings for one another after a few too many glasses of manischewitz

Dialogue Prompts: 

“They tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat!” 

“Does anyone else think it’s strange that we set a place for a ghost or...?” 

“I got you something.” “You know there’s no presents on Passover.” “Open it anyway.” 

“A Macca-baby’s gotta do, what a Macca-baby’s gotta do.” 

“You look handsome.” “My yarmulke makes my ears stick out.” “Yeah, but still handsome.” 

“Can we have one holiday where we don’t remember the suffering of our people?” “Be quiet and eat your bitter herbs.” 

“I’m sorry for what I said back there...I just miss bread so much.” 

“L'Shana Haba'ah B'Yerushalayim.” (next year in Jerusalem) 

“What page are we on?” “I was hoping you knew, I zoned out somewhere around the locusts.” “..Shit.” 

“Why is everyone looking at me?” “It’s your turn to read.” “My what??”

Some general activities to spark inspiration! 

Cleaning and decorating the house

Hosting Seder 

Reading the Haggadah 

Hiding the Afikoman/Hunting for the Afikoman 

Asking the 4 Questions at Seder (bonus points if they’re not the traditional 4 questions)

Singing Dayneu 

Watching Prince of Egypt 

Watching the Rugrats Passover special 

Arguing over whether gefilte fish is good or not 

Getting way too into the retelling of the story of Exodus 

#passover #passover prompts #jumblr #jewish writing #pesach #pesach prompts #dialogue prompts #character prompts #fanfiction prompts #prompt list #idk how else to tag this im sorry lol

[mimikyugirl]

it's good to have you back

Paul and John spent years apart and with no sign that things would get better. One day, Paul receives a postcard from New York that simply says "Come visit me, old friend. Please."

John deserved so much more than what he got. John deserved far more than my words could even convey, but here's a little tribute. A moment where John is alive and everything is fine. Happy Birthday, Johnny Boy. Wherever you are.

"As cruel as the world is to dreamers, I'll dream that John opened his eyes and saw nothing but friends."

Paul would never assume he was shaking with nervousness.

His hands were hurriedly running his pants to dry the sweat and he kept his eyes fixed on the plane's window.

From up there it was easy to get distracted. Everything he knew became small and unrecognizable.

"More tea, Mr. McCartney?"

Paul looked up from the window, the flight attendant smiled patiently at him as he nodded.

Paul felt he was on his way to meet an old love affair, someone who needed to be impressed by him.

At home, he chose the best suit, then took it off and began his search for the perfect outfit again. Something in which he could be recognized but without making room for John's jokes.

He then found a yellow shirt that could be worn half open and matched it with his favorite denim jacket. It was casual and comfortable, exactly what he expected the day to be.

The plane landed and Paul felt his stomach churn even more. The empty cup of tea was removed and he started his way outside. A car was waiting for him and Paul knew very well who had sent him.

He fluffed his hair nervously, and even nibbled at his nails, a habit that had been forgotten many years ago. Once the car stopped at its final destination, Paul allowed himself to take a deep breath and enjoy the view around him. The Dakota building grew imposing against the New York sky, and dozens of butterflies made their way into Central Park, as if trying to hide from the urban life.

Paul gripped the small suitcase he had in hand and began his walk to the inside of the building. As soon as the front door was opened, the face Paul had traveled so many miles to see immediately manifested itself.

"I was told a few minutes ago that you were arriving..." The uncertain words came with a shy smile "I thought you would like it if I came to meet ye in the car, but the elevator took a while and... I should stop talking."

The figure wore a jacket not unlike Paul's, pants in almost every color of the rainbow, and had his long hair tucked into a beret. On the jacket, a single pin with "I Love Paul McCartney!" could be seen near the left pocket.

John Lennon hadn't changed much, even though it had been nearly ten years since they'd last met.

Paul stood watching the man's face go through the same emotions he felt, the fear of rejection and perhaps the anguish of knowing he saw someone he loved deeply. Someone who maybe didn't love you that much back.

Without another word being exchanged, they smiled and walked closer to each other. John took Paul by the shoulders and looked for the first time in years into his best friend's eyes.

"Good to see you, Macca" He said lowering his round glasses and taking a good look at the man in front of him "Although I'm sure you stole that shirt from me a few years ago."

Paul felt all his nervousness slip out the door. He pulled John into a hug that made it clear that no more distance needed to exist between them.

Despite all the discussions, public or not, the love they shared seemed to have stopped in time.

All the years of silence and all the lost calls seemed to have become as much of the past as the suits without lapels and the moptops.

"It's good to be here, Johnny boy. The ticket you got me was really good" Paul said, breaking the hug and being guided by John towards the elevator.

"Oh yeah? Did you get the tea for free too?" John asked, grabbing Paul's suitcase and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Certainly. The benefit from being in the most famous band in the world, y'know" He said, making John laugh.

They got into the elevator together, joking and laughing as if no day had passed since their last meeting.

John, Paul realized, still smelled like mint and chewed the same cinnamon gum relentlessly. Paul, John noticed, still had the same gleam in his eyes as when they'd first met.

As soon as the elevator door closed, John threw himself against Paul and held the man in his arms for much longer than the elevator took to reach the last floor. John's hands were no longer the ones Paul remembered. They slumped hard against his back and no longer had any sign of the smooth skin he'd grown used to.

Nothing looked the same, even if somehow nothing had changed.

When John held him, Paul felt the same thing he felt all those years ago when he had John by his side every day. Paul felt that he loved him, and that it was good to finally have him back.

#the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #the beatles fanfiction #the beatles imagine #paul mccartney x john lennon #john lennon fanfiction #john lennon imagine #paul mccartney imagine #lennon mccartney #mclennon imagine

[tocrackerboxpalace]

January, 1972

Summary: In Paul's first interview since the breakup of the Beatles, things go slightly awry when a nosy reporter gets more out of him than she bargained for.

Part 3/3 (1, 2)

The doorbell rang.

Paul jolted awake. He was still on the couch, unsure of how long he’d been sitting there, but pale morning light seeped in through the cracks of the curtains.

In a half-daze, he struggled to his feet, trying to ascertain his surroundings. Why had he been on the couch? Who was at the door? Why were they bothering him at—he peered at the clock on the wall, startled to find that it was already 10:00 a.m.

He fumbled with the locks until the door finally creaked open, flooding the living room with bright daylight and making him wince.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Paul’s body froze at the figure in the doorway, clear as day despite a sloppy hat-and-sunglasses disguise.

“I—”

“I don’t want some bullshit excuse, Paul, because I woke up to reporters halfway up my arse and Rings on the line talking about some fucking interview you did last night. What did you do?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Paul stammered helplessly.

John pushed his way past Paul into the house, tossing his cover to the side with vitriol. He collapsed on the couch where Paul had been asleep only moments before and threw his head in his hands.

Paul sensed that it was his turn to explain himself, though nothing on earth quite sounded less appealing. “I might have… sort’ve… confessed.”

John raised his head, glaring at him wearily. Go on.

“I didn’t mean to. They cornered me. Wouldn’t stop asking about me new song, and it is about you, of course it’s about you, but I—I thought I was vague enough to—”

John laughed sharply, interrupting Paul’s train of thought. “Doesn’t matter anymore. I called you out on it, and now everyone’s lookin’ for cryptic bullshit in your songs.”

Paul pretended not to feel annoyed at the assertion. Suddenly, another memory came full force back to him, and his voice got quiet, eyes flicking away from John’s penetrative gaze. “They asked me about India.”

“They what? Paul, how the fuck could they know about India?”

Anger rose in his throat as he fought to defend himself in what seemed like an unwinnable case. “I don’t fucking know. No one actually knows but us.” There was an accusatory edge to his voice.

John was incredulous. “You think I had something to do with that?”

Paul crossed his arms, though he still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “It certainly wasn’t me.”

John was on his feet again in a flash of fury. His voice was saturated with sarcasm, but Paul didn’t miss the lingering of hurt in there as well. “Sure. You got me pinned, Macca. I’m such a little media whore that I went and spilled every little detail of the worst moment of my life to the press. And because I’m a selfish goddamn prick I encouraged them to ask you about it in an interview, so that I could laugh at your pain in my great new fuckin’ life without you. Because why? Because I like seeing you suffer?” In his effort to avoid John’s eyes, Paul noticed that the man’s hands were shaking. “I thought you knew me better than to believe in the goddamn press portrait of me.”

There was a lot more that seemed to be said in John’s words than the words themselves.

“You’re still bitter,” Paul whispered. The wrong thing to say.

John’s eyes flashed dangerously. He was shouting now. “Of course I’m fuckin’ bitter, Paul! You turned me down. You said no to me. I loved you more than—”

“Don’t,” Paul pleaded hoarsely, tears suddenly buzzing at the brim of his eyelids.

“You don’t get to do this, Paul,” he continued without missing a beat. “I loved you more than I’d ever loved anyone in my life. A-and I couldn’t explain it, because it was a different love altogether, and I’m not sure if that made it true with you, or just better, but-but it was real. It was the most real thing that ever happened to me, and I was so certain that you understood that too.”

“John,” Paul begged.

“But you didn’t. At least, not on the same level, because if you had then we wouldn’t be here right now.” John waved a vague hand in the air, his cheeks bright with fury. Paul couldn’t bear to see it reflected in his eyes. “So you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to write songs and go on television talking about how much I hurt you.”

Paul only swallowed.

“Did you know how fuckin’ hard it was to listen to that song, Paul?” John said abruptly, his gaze straight out the window and his hands balled into fists. His lip was trembling in its place under his teeth. “To hear you say that you were in love with me?”

“I am–“

“Bullshit!” John yelled, and for a brief moment, Paul’s eyes were drawn up and he thought that John might actually hit him. When John slumped back in surprise at his own outburst, Paul felt a flood of rage overtake him, energy transferred from one to the other.

“You don’t fucking understand, John! You’re not like me! You’ve never given two shits about what the world thinks of you. You act like you do, with us, like you’re some poor misunderstood soul, but you don’t.” Paul began listing on his fingers, ignoring John’s protesting gape. “The Jesus comment, Yoko, Two Virgins, writing song after song knowing they’re going to be banned. You spew your bullshit and do whatever you please and sometimes it feels like you’re trying to give the world the finger and that’s fine, con-fuckin-gratulations for you, but I’m not like that.”

He suddenly felt very tired as John closed his mouth into a firm line. Paul recognized the expression. Understanding. “I’m not like that. It matters to me. And I don’t know what that says about me, or how to fix it. So simply the sudden legality of it all couldn’t magically change my mind. And now that’s something I have to live with, for the rest of my days, because I know now that it would have been worth it. And we could’ve handled it together. I didn’t understand then, but I do now. And I do love you.”

John rolled his eyes in helpless exasperation. “So what do you want to do, eh? Say fuck-all to our wives, our families? Our new lives? Just because you were too chicken-shit to say something four years ago?” He shook his head. “It’s too late for us, Paul. What’s that they say? Right person, wrong time?”

The polite smile John gave in closing made Paul feel sick to his stomach.

“Why did you come here, John?”

The defendant shrugged. He took a few steps backwards and sunk back onto the couch. “Honest?”

Paul hesitated. He might have had enough honesty for the day.

John sighed. “Wanted to see you.” He gave a sudden glare, shooting down Paul’s curious eyebrows. “Not because I missed you. I wanted to see you try and explain yourself. I hadn’t known what happened in the interview, but I’m not bloody stupid. I could tell it was something of this… scale. And I was so fuckin’ tired of trying to read you over the phone.”

Paul felt the strange urge to smile. And suddenly, he was laughing, undeterred even by the expression of utter bewilderment on John’s face.

“Christ, all that? Isn’t it, like, five in the morning there?”

“Well, yeah, I told you—Rings called, and you Englishmen have no bloody consideration for time zones.”

Paul let out a chuckle that felt far too relieving. His smile quieted as reality began to sink in. “I’m sorry.”

John met his eyes for only a moment. “S’not your fault. They do it to me, too.”

“What are you going to do?”

He shrugged. “Deny. Deny, deny, deny. Don’t know what he’s talking about, must’ve gone mad, trying to frame me as a queer. Wanted to stir up a fight. I’ll think of something.”

Paul swallowed. He wasn’t sure what he expected.

John peered over his glasses, his mouth pressed into a firm line. He removed them slowly, folding them in his lap. When he looked up again, Paul felt a shiver travel down his spine at the familiarity of the amber eyes on his, unprotected, unveiled. They hadn’t looked that way to him in so long.

“It’s only me,” John said quietly. Paul could hear in the tone that it was meant to be soothing, but the words made his heart twitch violently. “You know…not to take everything I say about you to heart, yeah?”

Paul nodded, gaze cast downwards for fear of brimming tears.

“Sometimes I mean it. I’m allowed to mean it. But this?” He sighed. “Whatever happens, you have to know that we have to. They’ll believe us so long as we present it as another one of our publicized scraps.”

“I’ve got to be the bad guy,” Paul conceded.

John nodded a confirmation. “I’ll, erm… I’ll say that it’s an attack. That you’re trying to frame me as something that I’m not, because you’re still hung up on the breakup. And it’s my reputation you’re worried about. I’ll say you’ve been on a bender, and lucid-dreamed-up an idealized version of our partnership. I’ll make another offhand comment about how we hardly wrote together much less knew one another, and you… You won’t say anything. You’ll stay here with—” he suddenly seemed to choke on the words. “Linda. The kids. And you can talk to her about it, I don’t care. But that’s what I’m going to say, and you have to be okay with that.”

Paul only stared. He knew in the back of his mind that John was right, but that didn’t help the nausea coursing through his veins.

“You have to be okay with that,” John repeated, his voice trembling slightly. “For both of us.”

The words were so far from the truth in some ways and yet too close to the truth in others. John offered a hand to shake, but appeared to think better of it, withdrawing the deal almost immediately. He knew Paul would agree, anyway, of course he would. And neither of them knew if they could handle the contact, no matter how brief.

“I should be going,” John said after a moment.

“You could stay,” Paul offered, his mind frantically arranging a comfortable setup for John to spend a few days.

John pushed himself up off of the couch and gazed around the room briefly, looking for something he hadn’t left. “Why?”

The image of the pull out couch in the den crumbled to death in his imagination. “Yeah. Okay.”

John gave one last, awkward nod, both men standing helplessly in the middle of the room. He hesitated for another moment before shuffling over to the front door, grabbing up his hat and glasses beside it, and pulling it open.

Paul wasn’t sure what made him say it, but he couldn’t stop the words from flowing out. “I love you.”

John scratched the back of his neck before turning to go. “I–yeah. See you around, Paul.”

He shut the door behind him.

#the beatles #beatles fanfiction #paul mccartney #john lennon #linda mccartney (mentioned) #ringo starr (briefly mentioned) #interviews #confessions #songwriting feud of the seventies #beatles breakup #part 3 #part 3 of 3

[teeswrites]

Malibu- C.H

Malibu

Ashton, Calum, Luke, and Michael were dropped on Calum's couch staring at the ceiling. Beer cans all over the carpet, letting some remaining liquid drip from it and make stains on the grey soft fabric, where his socked feet were resting He didn't give a shit about it. They were pretty legless (*for those that don't know: legless is the same as veeeery wasted for us Aussie! :D), and he had bigger problems than some beer puddles over his apartment. Calum grabbed his phone and texted the first person on his dm. she. She had become the first person in everything lately

[2 pm]

Calum: 'wanna hang?'

She replied in seconds

'omw ;)'

He smiled and blocked his phone again letting his head drops on the couch's back. "I am fucking starving." Luke started to complain "yeah, me too. Hey, Cal" he let a groan that should be a "what?" to Michael "can you text your girlfriend and ask her to bring some food?" how the fuck he knew he had texted her. It might be the stupid smile across his stupid face. "she isn't my girlfriend" but he texted her the same way, she gently answered 'like pickles in your burger?' he smiled 'throw away the damn pickles' and let his head rests on the couch's back again and closed his eyes "she will stop at Maccas" "she's fucking awesome" "my best friend" Luke bragged "she should be your girlfriend, Cal" "not your business, Ash..." "Ouch! Easy, man, just saying" he swallowed a "fuck you" and just answered with silence. she should be his girlfriend, but he wasn't sure about what they were. When he heard the knock on the door his heart almost skipped the beats and he stood up faster than he wanted to "and he said that doesn't want anything serious" Ash teased "you like to tease, huh?" "you have no idea" "fuck me, Irwin" "I wish, but she'd be jealous" Calum showed to Ashton his middle finger and they laughed before he opened the door at the same moment she will knock again "hey" "'sup, Cal?" she stood on her tiptoes and pecked his lips, he grinned "come in" "thanks" she walked to Calum's living room and dropped her tired body on the couch, the college will kill her anytime. And soon. But she was there still "hey, boys!" "Hey!" they answered together "I bought some burgers" in the second after she put the bag over the coffee table Michael sat up and grabbed it like he did not eat for days and started to distribute between the other two dead bodies lying next to him. Calum sat down at her side pulling her closer to him and resting one hand on her waist and his head on her shoulder, her hands moving to his hair and caressing it smoothly. "'re you okay?" Luke asked his best friend "I'm good. Just tired" "studying lots?" "more than I can handle" the exams will come soon and the professors have no mercy with the students "they keep dropping mountains and mountains of knowledge in our heads" "you should rest a little" "yeah" "for your luck you have the best friend in the world" "what you have in mind?" "The question is 'what I have in my pocket?'" Luke took off his black, skinny jeans pocket a key. A key. she knew that key "Fucking Lord, what happened to your grandma?" "She is in Italy and the house is in my care" "lucky bastard" "I think we should spend the weekend there. What do you think?" "God, yes!" "What Thelma and Louise are talking about?" "grandma's Malibu house" "I'm in" "me too" "I don't remember to invite you two" "we clearly don't care" he chuckled "what about you, Cal?" "Yeah, it will be nice" he answered uninterested "wow, Calum how you are zippy today" "fuck yourself" Ashton laughed "you are too down today, eat something will make your mood get better" "'m not hungry" "what?! I practically had to beg for the McDonald's guy for a no-pickles burger" "sorry…" "what happened to you?" "Pms" they laughed "I swear to God I'll punch your face Ashton!" she twisted her body turned to his side to give him all her attention he grinned with her act and squeezed her waist "nothing to you worry about" "are you sure?" "yes" he whispered and kissed her quickly on the lips before get up and walk towards the bathroom. Michael groaned in pleasure when he finished his burger "I was starving! Thank you. Luke, hug her for me, I am too far" "it was nothing" Luke wrapped his long arms around her, she snuggled and hummed with the comfort "do you want us to pay you back?" "oh, don't need to, like to take care of you guys" "I have the best friend in the world" "me?" Calum asked when came back to his living room, already feeling jealous. He knew that she was Luke's friend for more time than he and that was Luke who introduced them, but he couldn't help himself "she" "really? I think 'm way better than her" Calum teased her and received in response a socked

foot on his stomach "you will not hurt anyone with these smurf feet" "oh, fuck you!" he grinned and started making circles on her heel trying to forget how much he loves her small feet while she smiled to he "seriously, Cal if you two don't run away to Vegas and get eloped, I will put you guys on my trunk and force you to do it" she giggled, but he rolled his eyes, dropped her foot on the couch and made his way to the bedroom "I think he is mad with you, Ash" "his lost" he shrugged "Alright beautiful people if we gonna leave for the weekend is better we go pack our shits" "yeah, is better" "where we'll meet?" "her place" "why mine?" "Your car is bigger and comfier. And the only one that the engine turns on at the first attempt" "fine, but you drive" "don't need to ask twice" "okay, see you two later" "at 8" "At 8 will be" "later" "later". Michael slammed the door behind him. "what's wrong with Calum?" she asked "bad mood, I guess. Want me to talk with him?" "no, babe, go pack your stuff and I talk with him" "ok" he untied she, giving a kiss on her forehead "see you later, sweetheart" "see u" Luke stood up and yelled to Calum hears him from the bedroom "I'M LEAVING CAL!" "YOU'RE LEAVING LATE IN MY OPINION!" "OH FUCK YOU!" "TRUST ME, I WILL!" Luke laughed and closed the door behind him. She made her way to Calum's bedroom where she already spent a lot of time in and leaned her shoulder on the doorway "hello" "hi" he was splayed at his bed like a starfish "can I join you?" "sure" he shrank himself to the side so she could jump in his bed like a child going to sleep on their parent's bed, what made he smile and giggle "hello again" "hi again" "are you gonna tell me what's wrong?" "no" "uh, alright" they kept the silence for some seconds while she tried to tangle herself on his arms, but he smiled amused and did not help her "asshole" he laughed "oh, come here your fucking kid" he pulled her that was laid next to him, to lay on his chest and a loud groan left his lips before he answers her "you and Luke" he mumbled "what?" "You asked what was wrong: you and Luke" "are you jealous?" "yes" "he is my best friend. He is your best friend" "I know" "I had been sleeping with you" "know that too" and he knew it well "so what is this about?" he flipped his body to be over her and look inside her eyes "you are amazing, he is amazing and you too know each other so well, are so close. And I'm... just me" "it should be a compliment, right?" "I am talking serious" "me too, but, hey you're lucky that I'm more into jerkasses" she teased what made him smile squeezing his eyes, but he opened it again and he felt her hands cupping his face and she staring at his lips, so he pushed down and kissed her deeply, passionated. Soon her hands were sliding down his whole body stopping on the button of his black, ripped jeans ready to take off of him, but Calum stopped the kiss, swallowed, and laid down at her side again what made her feels confused "uh, you... you should go pack your stuff" "what? pack my stuff?" something was wrong, he never refused sex before 'will he break up with me?' she thought "ok" she put herself up and walked towards the door "hey!" "hum?" "need me to drive you home?" "no, like to walk" "oh, okay" "want to come with me?" he wanted to say 'yes' really, wanted to have sex with her (good and sweaty) let her fall sleep on his arms and wake up late to the trip, forget to put clean underwear on the bag and hear the boys make jokes about the reason that they were late, but... "I will take a shower, you know?" "I have a shower in my place" she raised an eyebrow teasing him again, one last try, but he just kept in silence, she nodded "see you later, Cal" and left his apartment ...he couldn't fall in love with her.

*

They met at her place two hours early than they had agreed, she was taking a shower when heard Michael yelling into her living room. "Don't you regret of gave a key to Luke?" "No, like when he is around. Less when I am studying, you know how noisy he can be." now she was on her couch talking with Ashton while the other three was in the kitchen pretending they were barmen "you have a very nice place" "thanks, my grandparents left to me" "I'm sorry" "Oh, it's okay they are alive. They moved to Indiana" "oh, that's nice" "it is" "who wants margaritas???" Luke walked to the living room caring two glasses of margaritas "thank you, Luke" "cheers!" he drank with his best mate when she gasped "you should not drink you'll drive!" "I can drive" "at least someone is behaving. I will love to punish those who don't obey me" she said naughty and Luke laughed loudly he loved when she made sexual jokes "Ash is embarrassed" Michael appeared in the living room yelling (already drunk) with Calum "who is embarrassed?" "Ash. Look he is blushing!" they all laughed "sorry, Ash" "it's fine... Excuse me" Ash made his way to the kitchen and Calum sat next to her where Ashton was before "hey Calum" "what's up Mike?" "You and her will have to control, you know?" "what you're talking about?" "The noise. Not allowed to be loud" Calum laughed "how many margaritas you drank already?" "The margaritas..." He paused and burped 'gross' he continued "the problem is not the margaritas, but the shots" "well, I think that it will not be a problem, Mike" "you are quite loud, babe" she raised an eyebrow and looked to Calum "well, no sex no noise, and you already have made it very clear to me" she stood up and walked to the kitchen to fill her glass and Luke followed her "wow! Calum Hood, what you did wrong?" Ashton dropped at his side very interested in the chaos "I refused fuck with her earlier" "what?! Why, dude?" Ashton and Michael laughed "have my reasons..." he mumbled and blushed a little "ok, they must be good 'cause, bro she is a hottie one and hotties do not are used to be rejected. So she will, naturally, get mad with you" 'he didn't know about her past' Calum thought "Ash... Just be quiet" "alright. Hey Michael did you watched the video I sent you?" Ashton moved the subject leaving Calum only with his thoughts.

*

"What happened, honey?" "He is acting weird" "yeah..." "He didn't want to have sex, didn't want to walk home with me, didn't let me tease him" "don't have a clue why he is doing this" "he was being paranoiac..." "About what?" "About us" she whispered "hum?" "About us" "about us? But don't exist an 'us'" "I know" "Jesus, man... what are you gonna do?" "Get wasted" Luke chuckled "you always have the best ideas" then filled his glass.

*

Was a little after 8 pm when they left: Ashton driving, Calum at his side and the trio in the back: Michael sleeping at the right, Luke in the middle, and she in the left with her head dropped on Luke's shoulder his arm around her while they count how many trucks they see in the road "how many you already saw?" "Eighteen, I guess" "damn it! I'm losing" "what you guys are doing?" Ashton asked interested in what the friends were doing "We are counting lorries" Calum widened his eyes and look at her "lorries?" "Yes" "wtf are lorries?" "Trucks" "are you British now?" "No, but my last boyfriend was" 'oh, yes. He is British' "I miss him. Do you still hang?" Luke used to hang out with them when he broke up with his girlfriend "Yes, I had lunch with him last week" "send hello when you see him again" "okay" "do you still talk with him" "yes, Ash, we are still friends" "you two truly love each other. I mean after all of that you keep supporting him. It's love" Luke always says too much when he is drunk "I think so" but she was pretty wasted too "why did you break up?" "He discovered he is more into boys, you know..." Ashton looked to Calum already regretting what he said about her earlier "I'm sorry" "yeah, it's alright. He is happy that's what matters" "it's very nice of you..." "Well, he would do the same for me" she said with sadness in her voice and Ashton cleaned his throat "Can I sleep, Luke?" "Yes, sure. Come here" he pulled her to be more comfortable on his chest and she fell asleep, soon he did it too. "I think is only us, bro" "yeah, uh, Cal" "hum?" "Honestly, why are you sat here? Why are you not where Luke is? With her laying in your chest, hands playing in her thighs, teasing each other, kissing?" he licked his lips and swallowed dryly, looked back to certify they were sleeping "I'm afraid" "afraid? Is she spanking you?" Calum blushed "she spanks you?" Ashton laughed "it happened once or twice. Sometimes she is bossy in bed. But anyway is not about it" "So why the hell are you refusing sex?" "I am afraid of fall in love with her" "you? falling in love?" "I am falling for her and faster. But I can't" "wow. Why not? You guys are great together" "she isn't mine. And I'm afraid to ask her to be" "you can't live with fear, bro" "yeah…" "honestly, she is awesome and if you don't risk yourself, someone will and you will lose her" "I know" "just keep it in your mind" "I will. Thanks, Ash" "no problems, mate. I should have a talk show" "hell yeah, you totally should" they kept talking about the imaginary Ashton's talk show for the rest of the trip.

*

Was at least midnight when she put on a bikini and jumped on the swimming pool, the boys were making some midnight barbecue, now all drunk, listening to some classic rock, and getting high again. "Beautiful..." "hey" "can we talk?" "Yes! hum, actually I was thinking about the same thing" she was soberer now "good" he dived into the pool and stand next to her "I am sorry about what I said earlier. Sex isn't everything and you're not obligated to do if you're not in the mood. It's just so great that I can't help myself…" she started and he looked into her eyes calmly, taking her hands in his own, she was despaired for an answer and let he knew with her gaze, but he just stepped closer guiding her hands and arms to involve his body, resting his chin on the top of her head and whispered "I want you to be mine" "I will love to be yours" she whispered back and he grinned "sex it's actually really great, isn't it?" "more than it usually is" "so, are you saying that I'm pretty good in bed?" she laughed "you satisfy me, more than the other boys I had slept with" "is it includes Luke?" she smiled "well, I don't remember a lot, but I think so" he grinned at her. Luke and she had already banged a few years ago at some random party, both wasted. Calum knew that and didn't care 'old shit' he thought.

"HEY, LUKE!" "WHAAAATTT?" "SHE SAID SEX WITH ME IS BETTER THAN WITH YOU!" she blushed "Calum!" "damn it!" Luke mumbled more to himself "HEY, CAL!" "HUM?" "SUCK ME!" "I WISH TO, BUT I WILL BE BUSY DOING SOMETHING THAT YOU DIDN'T WHEN HAD THE CHANCE!" Luke laughed out loud and showed to Calum a middle finger. He actually made his bestie come over and over, at the point she thought he had a magic wand instead of a penis, but Calum didn't need to know. Luke winked at her before put his focus on the grill again, she nodded in thanks "did you guys stopped to talk about my orgasms?" "yes, babe" he pulled her legs to his waist and cupped her bum and kissed her, a calm and delicious kiss "want to go to the bedroom and let me put in practice what we were talking about?" "Do you really want to?" "More than you can imagine" "'re you sure?" he whispered at her ear "my handjobs are not like yours" he teased what made her get off his arms and went out of the pool. She pulled his wrist indicating to him to made his way out of the pool to follow her "good night boys" "good night!" Calum smiled at them that was making obscene gestures "yes, we are going to bang and you are not!" she laughed what made the boys stop and focus on another thing. Already in the bedroom Calum was laying in the bed where she said to he waits, she came out of the bathroom and she climbed the mattress to stay at his top "hey, gorgeous" "Cal, if you have to hand job yourself earlier, why you suggested me to leave?" "I was avoiding sex" "why?" "I was avoiding have great moments with you." "Because...?" "I was afraid of fall for you. Don't know about your feelings for me and I am afraid to discover" "I like you a lot" "do you?" "I really do. Wished that you asked me to be yours before" he smiled "I wanted too" "fear makes us do things that we don't want to" "yes" "hope you're not afraid of making me cum" she teased and he squeezed her hips, she kissed he and untied her bikini top "I lie. Don't like you a lots" he widened his eyes "I love you" "love me?" "Yeah. Love everything on you." "It doesn't mean that you love me" "it does" she kissed his neck, his jaw, his lips that tasted like beer "love everything single piece of you. If you puzzle it all together it's you" he smiled "how can you love me?" "ask myself the same every day" he giggled and kissed her again, this time teasing.

She untied the bikini bottom letting him feels how wet she was "fuck" "yes, fuck" they kissed again and again, hot and despaired for each other, he stopped the kiss and she looked at him confused "I'm waiting for an answer" she rolled her eyes but answered he the same way "love you because it's you" he smiled and for the first time let himself fall for her "love you too" he mumbled and she continued the kiss before he took off his swimming short and gave to her want she wanted, what they wanted, 'cause now was not she, was not he, but they.

#calum hood #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum blurb #so... i wrote this #hope you like #5sos imagine #calum hood blurbs

[phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust]

#3:“What happened to you?” and #10:“What if something happens to you?” please! ❤️🥺

3. “What happened to you?” + 10. “What if something happens to you?”

“C’mon now, c’mon in.” Paul said gently to a drunken John; he’d shown up in the wee small hours, at his doorstep. John had slammed on the door until Jane had woken up, and insisted Paul answer it.

“No – I want you…I want you to come out. With me.”

“John,” Paul grasped his hands gently, “all the pubs are closed anyroad. There’s nowhere to go.” John looked out into the dark distance, with a vacant frown stitched upon his face. “C’mon love…”

He groaned back, “Alright, fine…”

Entering the house, John curling up onto Paul for support, Jane asked with slight anger in her throat, “What’s he doin’ here – its bloody three in morning!”

“Sorry, yeah, he does this sometimes. You’re normally away when he does it though.”

“What – he shows up drunk on your doorstep a lot?”

Paul justified in response, “He’s going through a tough time, Jane.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s got any right showing up on your doorstep at this time of night.”

“I know, I know. I’ll talk to him about it in the morning.”

She appeared to ignore this, continuing, “You can’t keep coddling him like this. He’s a grown man now, and yer not his mother.”

“Alright Jane. But can we just sit him down for a minute?” “Alright.”

After he’d placed him down on the sofa, Paul said, “Give him a minute to rest and then ill take him home.”

“Don’t take me home; I don’t wanna go home.” John whined back.

“C’mon now John, ‘m sure you’d rather be at home in yer own bed, with Cynthia, y’know.”

“No. ‘M not goin’ back there. Im never going back there.” Paul took a seat beside him on the sofa, “D’you get into a fight with her or something?”

“No…she got into a fight with me.”

Jane interjected, “Im going to bed Paul, ive got things to do in the morning.”

“Alright then - I’ll be up in a minute. Just let me get him home.”

“Yeah, alright…” she grumbled dispiritedly. With some resentment, she uttered, “Night John.” though he did not respond to this.

“What were ye fighting about?”

“Fuckin’…I dunno.”

“Is that why you’ve gone out and drank so much?” “No. Yeah - maybe.” Changing the subject, John asserted, “Take me to your room, Macca.”

“Can’t do that - Jane’s staying the night.”

“Then just…just…”

“Tell you what – ill take you to the guest bedroom, alright?”

“Mhm…”

“Yer too pissed to go anywhere anyway.”

After dragging him upstairs, and pressing him towards the guest bed, he prepared to leave John and return back to Jane – but this plan was erupted once John whined, “Paul? Stay here.”

“Ive gotta go - Jane’s expecting me. I’ll talk to you in the morning, alright?” He shook his head, asserting, “No…no. Stay with me, don’t go with her. You don’t need her.” “John…”

“Fucking stay, Paul!” there something almost sinister in his voice time. Paul gave in finally, quietly stating, “Alright, alright. I’ll stay a little longer with you.” Laying down beside him in bed, and staring into one another’s eyes, he muttered, “What happened to you?”

“You did, runnin’ off with Jane and that. Moving away to London-like.”

“I haven’t run off with her, she’s hardly home anyroad. You’re in my life more than her, love.”

“Yeah…well, you like her more than ye like me.”

“That’s not true either,” he brushed a hand through John’s hair, “I like the both of you. Just, y’know, in different ways.”

“Yer jus’ movin’ further away from me, all the time.”

Paul was only growing more concerned, “John, you’re drunk. Just get some rest.”

“Sleep with me.”

“Think yer too pissed for that; ‘sides, Jane’s here anyroad - wouldn’t be right.”

“Then just…jus’ stay with me.”

“I really shouldn’t…Jane’ll be pissed in the morning if I stay with you.”

“Please…” he whined, grasping onto Pauls hands. He was too easily convinced, but he always did have this compulsion to put John above anyone else.

***

The next morning, Paul awoke with John by his side. He got up, creeping downstairs to the kitchen where Jane sat with her first cuppa of the day.

“Good sleep then?” She asked with tension in her tone.

“Fine, thanks.”

“You never came back to bed.” “Yeah, sorry about that. Must’ve just drifted off, y’know.”

She ignored this, until she finally let out, “You know, you’re always putting him above me.”

“I know, I just…ive just been worried about him recently.”

“Yeah, well – maybe you should let Cynthia, his wife, take care of him. Take care of yourself a little more, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re right - I know you’re right. Im gonna go have a chat with him now, about his showing up here and that. Just let me grab some water first.” “He’ll need it after last night...” she grumbled resentfully.

“John, you up?”

“Hm…”

“I wanna have a chat with you; Janes not happy about last night.”

“I don’t bloody care about what Jane is and isn’t happy about.”

This pissed Paul off a little, so he retorted back with a more aggression, “Yeah, well, she’s my girlfriend. So, you should respect that, y’know.”

“Quit banging on about her, alright?” John spat back venomously.

Paul sat back down beside him on the bed, bringing him the glass of water. He returned to his more tender disposition, suggesting, “I think it’s time you ease off the drinkin’ John.”

“Its not a problem.”

“Im not saying it’s a problem – I just think maybe you’re drinking too much, tripping too much too. Maybe you should just give it a break for a minute, y’know.”

“Take a break and do what? There’s nuthin’ out there for me. Why would I take a fuckin’ break?” He was bitter about something, though that was just in his nature Paul supposed.

“Just- It’s just, what if something happens to you?”

“Nuthin’s gonna happen to me; ill be fine.”

“You’ve got a wife and kids, they need you.” Solemnly, John replied, “No they don’t…”

“I know ye know they do, John. And im sorry, but I can’t keep coddling you like this.” “Whose telling you this shit - is it Jane?”

“Look, I won’t get into it, but just…you’ve got to slow it down a little. ‘M not leaving you, and yer still welcome here, but I just want you to drink a little less. Okay?”

*** Kind of regretting the story with this one - wish id gone with my other idea now :( Oh well, hope you enjoy anyway!

#asks #mclennon #fanfic #my work

[themagicalmysticalboy]

John and Paul had a big argument about Brian, Paul still cant forget about Spain. It's a very cold and raining night, after very intensing session of drinking John appears under Paul's house, but Paul isnt inside...The next morning Macca finds frozen wet and limp figure curled at his doorsteps.

a/n: this has lit been in my inbox for so long and i feel awful. So sorry anon. hope you’re still around to see it <3

Three minutes. 

That’s all it took for John to have Paul fuming. When the phone rang throughout the house he had half the mind to not answer at all, figuring it would be John. But now he was stuck on the line with a drunk and poorly apologizing Lennon. In reality, he was so incoherent that Paul wasn’t even sure if there was an actual apology buried in his mumbling. On the contrary, he seemed to be blaming Paul, if anything.

“Lemme jus- I’ll come… come over, yeah.” John hiccuped through his words.

“Don’t, alright? I’d rather not deal with you now.” He almost told John he wouldn’t be home, anyway, but that wouldn’t be clever. So, he kept his lips sealed on the topic. 

“It didn’t mean a thing, Paul. Brian was just there.” He said it as if it explained everything. 

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose, his other hand tightening around the phone with a death grip. “I don’t want to hear how it happened.” His voice almost didn’t sound like his own. “I don’t want to hear you blame Brian if that’s what you’re at.” John tried to interrupt but Paul only raised his voice higher. “He doesn’t even know we were together!” Paul’s eyes widened as his mouth snapped shut. Would John catch it? Or was he too drunk to comprehend it?

Deafening silence made Paul’s heartbeat in his ears. “You said ‘were.’” John’s words came out slow and almost sober. “Were together, Macca.”

Paul swallowed down the lump in his throat, his eyes stinging with tears he wouldn’t let slip. There was no going back now. “Yes. We were together.”

He slammed the phone to the receiver just in time to clamp his hands over his mouth, holding in a sob. Rained poured down outside his window as tears slipped down his cheeks. All he could do was stare at the raging storm and wonder if there was any way to fix what was now so painfully broken. He thought of calling off his plans with Mal and just staying by the phone for another call from John. But that was pathetic. He had promised to watch the football match with Mal a week in advance. There wasn’t a good reason- or at least one he could say out loud- to cancel. There was also the issue of not being able to move. Paul seemed immobilized with sadness and fear, quiet sobs escaping him as he stared into the haze outside his window. 

He stayed by the phone for a while until a crack of thunder jolted him to life and he hurriedly wiped his cheeks free of tears. With some much-needed washing up in the bathroom, he was ready to go, wanting to leave before the storm became too much and he would be stuck in his house with only his thoughts. The idea of that terrified him into rushing through the house and hurriedly leashing Martha. She helped him in his hurry, not letting him think twice before tugging him along and to his car. 

They made it into the car, assaulted by the frigid rain, shivering. Paul cranked up the heat as soon as the car was running, rubbing at his arms. The car ride wasn’t long enough for him to get lost in his thoughts, thankfully, and when he arrived at Mal’s the man kept them busy with snacks and other guests and drinks. Paul easily dropped into social mode and left his strife with John in the back of his mind. He knew it would rear up as soon as he was home, maybe even just in his car, but he wouldn’t ruin Mal and everyone else’s fun while he was there. 

Whether it was the knowledge of having to face his own actions or the still-raging storm keeping him, Paul didn’t leave Mal’s house until very late into the night. Mal had suggested they play a board game to sober everyone up and it drug on until almost five in the morning. The rain was at a drizzle when Paul put his car into park. 

He wanted to wait just a bit longer for it to come to a halt but Martha was wiggling around like mad, whining and pawing at his arm. He sighed, letting his forehead hit the steering wheel. “Fine,” he breathed.

She shot anxious glances between him and the door until he undid his seatbelt to lean over and pop the passenger door open. She shot out of the car and into the darkness with a happy wag in her tail the instant she could, leaving Paul to stare after her. Exhaustion mingled with dread, making him unwilling to go to his house. He sluggishly got out of the car. As he leaned back in to grab his wallet, Martha began to bark.

He dragged out a long sight, head dropping, before snapping back up and yelling out for her. She only barked louder, followed by a pained whimper. The pitiful sound shot a spike of alertness into Paul’s core. He yelled out again as he ran but the dog had gone quiet. Fear was shoving his senses into full throttle and he bolted to his doorstep.

When he finally arrived, he was struck still. The droplets of water now moved in slow motion, the biting cold a distant memory. His dread filled the void left by his other senses.

A figure was curled up on his doorstep, Martha nudging gently. With a rough nudge and a nip at the hair, the figure's head tilted into the dim porchlight. The aquiline nose and auburn hair of his John was illuminated. His mouth just barely open, eyes softly closed.

All Paul could do was stare in shock and horror. The world was thrown out of pause when a trickle of water sent a shiver down his spine. He was suddenly aware the rain had picked back up and the cold was whirled up with a nasty wind.

Words were leaving his lips but he didn't know what he was saying or why he was talking. All he knew was that he had to get John inside. Martha, bless her, was ahead of Paul, biting on to John’s collar and pulling him towards the door.

In a flurry of movement, the door was thrown open and John was dragged across the threshold. With a deep huff of breath, Paul lifted John into his arms. “John? Johnny, come on, please!”

He continued to plead as he rushed to the nearest couch. Once laid out, John let out a groan before curling into a ball again. He was shivering like mad, nearly vibrating off the couch. 

“Hey, you’re alright,” Paul cooed softly as he stripped John of his soaking wet clothes. “Can you talk to me?”

“Where- wherewereyou.” His words rushed together in an airy gust before his teeth began to chatter.

Snatching up every blanket in eyesight, Paul wrapped him up into a tight bundle. “Do you need an ambulance? Should I call-”

“‘S fine.” His eyes cautiously opened, lulling around the room until they found Paul. “Where were you?”

“I’m phoning the ambulance,” Paul decided. He moved to leave John’s side but felt a strangely strong grip pull him back. He fell onto the cushion, sitting by John’s hip.

“I’m fine.” The words came out with a startling levelness, only to be followed by more chattering of his teeth.

Paul studied him, their eyes locked in battle. With a hum, Paul narrowed his gaze, “I’m getting you a warm washcloth.”

“Alright.”

Once a basin of hot water was filled and the fire was lit, Paul began his nursing. He fused over John as neither man uttered a word. Grabbing more covers and some pillows, Paul tucked him in tight and lifted his head to put down the pillows. All the while, Martha sat wearily at John’s feet.

Now thoroughly bundled, he ran fingertips along John’s temple and down to his jaw. “Sure you're alright?”

“I waited for you,” John said with malice, only to be betrayed by a faltering voice. Paul had not noticed the lingering smell of alcohol on his breath until just then. He was obviously no longer drunk, only sad and cold, but it must have taken a lot to pass out in the freezing storm.

“I was a Mal’s, love. Do you want a cup of tea? Or I could run a ba-”

“Stop!” John pushed at his mountain of covers and forced himself upright. “Get-” 

Paul grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him only to be pushed away. They both tumbled from the couch, hitting the hardwood with two distinct thuds. Martha let out a bark but didn’t move. 

Paul made to speak but as soon as he opened his mouth, John spat out, “Shut your bleeding trap and listen to me.”

His mouth was still hung open so he snapped it shut and gulped through a strained throat. John’s eyes danced viciously between his.

“I’m sorry! Alright? I’m sorry and I know I can never take it back but I am. I-” Tears were welling in his eyes. “It was so stupid. Stupid of me to try to shift the blame. Stupid of me to do it at all. But,” John’s hands were in his damp hair, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I love you.”

 John was breathing hard and Paul felt he wasn't breathing at all. There was a delicate sheet of glass creeping between them. A single mistake could shatter it to the ground and leave them bleeding. 

Much softer, slower, and steadier, John said, “You don’t have to forgive me. I don’t deserve it. Sure as hell don’t deserve you.” When Paul didn’t respond, John continued. “I was drunk when I came. Was quite intent on telling you off- maybe break a vase or two.” Paul huffed a pained laugh. “But I’m sober as I can be now. I just want you to… You should know how much I mean it when I say that I’m sorry. If you don’t want me any longer, that’s fine.”

The sheet of glass dissolved on the spot, melting into the wood and warming the space. There was a vague awareness of the short bursts of nervous laughter leaving his lips. All he could do was stare at the half-naked man on his floor that had just poured his heart out. He had no clue how much the thought of them being over had weighed on him until the moment the worry lifted away. Gathering himself for the sake of the confused Lennon, Paul scooted towards him and threw a cover over his shoulders. Biting hard on his own lip, Paul cupped John’s face with both hands. 

“You’re the stupidest man I have ever met.” He smiled with all the sincerity and adoration in his body.

“I’m what?”

Paul laughed again, nerves completely drained from it, his hands moving to John’s shoulder and head falling into his chest. He breathed in the man, pulling him between his legs to hug him tightly. His skin was still cold, his body still trembling. “First of all, that’s all you had to ever say. Second, I’m just glad you didn’t kill yourself in the cold.”

John nuzzled his nose into the crook of Paul’s neck. “I’m slightly offended that me not dying was your second point.”

Paul only held him closer. “I hate you so much. But you’ll always be the love of my life.”

#i wrote this in a sleep deprived haze #so hope it’s alright #mclennon fanfiction #the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon #mclennon #the beatles fanfiction #ask #fic request