look at paul and john's faces

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The Eleventh Hour so far has my favorite storytelling from Griffin! So here’s a pseudo-movie poster ehuehueue

Had to do another illustration for our Fantasy Illust class and our prof gave me the go signal to draw TAZ again as long as I found good face refs for them. B^) I based Magnus, Taako and Merle on John Spainhour, Paul Boche, and Brian Cox respectively! 

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“John Lennon is the dry-witted one, with a half-smile that seems to have fallen asleep on his droopy-eyed face.
Paul McCartney, a sort of unofficial spokesman for the quivering ensemble, looks like a young David Tomlinson in search of a barber. 
George Harrison is the quiet one. He appears to be wearing a wig borrowed from a slightly larger head than his and his black eyebrows writhe to join forces across the top of his nose.  
Lennon and McCartney write the songs. George Harrison is the lead guitar. 
Ringo Starr who with his dark features and formidable nose, resembles the “heavy” in a teenage Western, beats the drums.”

[From the Donald Zec article on The Beatles, published 10th September 1963]

The Beatles are interviewed by Donald Zec at his London apartment on the 9th September 1963. Donald Zec was a journalist for the Daily Mirror as part of a series of interviews on pop groups, entitled ‘The Big Beat Craze’. He described the Beatles as ‘Four Frenzied Little Lord Fauntleroys who are making £5000 each week’. At the time of writing, Donald Zec is still alive, aged 98 and living in London. 

George was looking particularly good that day… 

Pics: Bela Zola / Alamy / Mirrorpix
Article Quote: From the fab The Gilly blog - here

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Okay so I was in the London Beatles shop, because it’s not far from where I live, and they’ve brought in some new statues… honestly I’m fucking terrified lOOK AT THEM,, id pay £125 for Satan on my shelf.

submitted by  galactibat


i have so many things to say about this…in the first one wtf is wrong with ringos face like he looks like a pterodactyl… and georges lack of eyebrows just make him compeletly unrecognizable and i hate the way paul is looking at john…then in the second ringo looks like hes been kidnapped and forced to be there…and judging by georges teeth im assuming hes the one that bit off johns legs

8

@sipscola asks: “could you do a facial reference of the beatles?”

Here ya are my dear

John: I emphasize his very long roman nose, bushy eyebrows, narrow eyes (also he doesn’t have much of an eyelid crease from what I’ve seen) and small mouth. The most difficult part of john is his jaw shape to me. He has very large jaw but sometimes it looks more Diamond shaped with a protruding chin, and other times it’s very round. I think a lot of that has to do with what year your drawing too, he was rounder and more baby faced until ‘67- then he got a lot sharper. Biggest thing for me to highlight is his nose.

Paul: Eyes/eyebrows make Paul’s face. Very large and doe eyed. Eyebrows are dramatic half circles facing up, eyes are dramatic and droopy half circles. Also he has a short and pointy nose that connects to a v shallow brow bone. His mouth is pretty small too and I’ll either draw it as a subdued version of Rick Wright’s mouth(if closed) or a tilted D (if open) very much like the emoticon :D (but keep it small) Paul’s jaw is very soft though it’s very strong. Also his hair tends to part a little on the left side of his head and swoops to the right.

George: the most defining features on George’s face are his eyebrows and cheeks/jaw. His overall appearance is very sharp, the only soft point on his face is the round tip of his nose. His eyes are narrow and slightly tilted down, their most obvious feature is his large and full eyelashes. His eyebrows are thick angled and very low on his brow (unlike Paul whose eyebrows are very high up on his brow bone) Jojs eyebrows are part of the reason he has a sour resting face, they look very dramatic and intense. Also he has very prominent cheek bones and a loonngg face to go with them. (much like Roger Waters’) George also has large ears and large lips.

Ringo: apart from the large schnoz, ringo also has a very large mouth with full lips. But the main thing I emphasize on him that isn’t his nose is his eyes. They droop very much like Paul’s, but his eyebrows droop low with them instead of contrasting and pointing away. Ringo’s features are in general pretty droopy. He’s also got a short triangle shaped face and a fairly weak jaw. His hair is often very neat with few flyaways, only when it’s grown out does it fam out a bit behind his large ears. I also usually draw ringo with a thick neck.

Hope this helps ✌️

This is an interview Paul did some years ago in which he talks about the song ‘The end of the end’, a song about his death.

The song is about the start of a “journey to a much better place”, the journalist asks “you mean a place better than England?”. Paul laughs and says “It’s a journey to France, or Spain through France. It’s a much better place Paris.”

AND WHO WANTED TO GO TO SPAIN THROUGH FRANCE BUT ENDED UP IN PARIS? John and Paul in 1961.

And I LOVE how Paul knows exactly what he’s talking about, look at that smirk on his face, and he knows that the journalist will never be able to understand the true meaning of that answer.

Mobbed- "Could you just hold me?"

As Shawn’s girlfriend of 3 years you got lots of attention from his fans. Although you aren’t a singer or an actor, just dating Shawn made you popular throughout social media and such.

You loved Shawn’s fans almost as much as he did. They supported him in the thing he loves to do, and that means the world to you. They make him happy, and that’s all you could ever ask for. Though, sometimes they got out of hand. It wasn’t necessarily their fault, it just sorta happened.

If Shawn was somewhere out in the public you had to be sure to have lots of security and a back up plan if something went wrong. His security team was very strict but for good reasons. Shawn was very strict with you if you went out. People recognized you almost as much as they did with Shawn.

Shawn felt bad that he had taken your privacy away. You couldn’t go grocery shopping without a body guard. You couldn’t go get new clothes without having the whole store empty. But that’s how life is now. You could sacrifice your privacy if it help Shawn sleep at night. He was always worried. He got very anxious when you were out. He would hate if something were to happen because of his popularity. But he can’t protect you from everything.

Today Shawn would be playing at the Staples Center in Los Angles. You had been tagging along with him on tour for the summer. It was a hard school year with you at your university and him traveling, but now that school was out all you did was spend time with him.

Right now you guys were heading into the Staples Center to begin sound check, meet and greet and much more. There was lots to do before each show so you had to be there earlier.

And of course Shawn had very dedicated fans that would show up and watch him walk into the arena every time. He would usually stop and take pictures with as many girls as he could, but he couldn’t spend all day out there. If it was up to him, he would.

Right now the some of the security team was in the bus with you, Shawn, Andrew, and Geoff.

“Ok we are gonna have 3 guards on Shawn, 2 on Y/N, one on Geoff and one of Andrew. Just follow them and you’ll be good,” the main guard explained. Everyone nodded then dispersed to get anything else they need from the bus before leaving to the arena.

You followed Shawn to the back of the bus where the was a queen bed that you two shared. It was like the master bedroom of the RV. You had noticed that Shawn had an upset look on his face when he left so you went to investigate.

“Babe, is everything ok? You seemed upset when we left the meeting,” you asked placing your hand on his back and running it up and down a bit.

“Yeah I’m fine. I’m just kinda upset that you only have 2 guards. You know how crazy the girls can get. Maybe we can get one of my guards to go with you,” he explained thinking out loud. You reacted quickly grabbing his shoulder and making him face towards you.

“No way. Shawn they are here to see you. They are going to want a picture with you. They are going to be mobbing you. If you want to keep me happy, then you will take 3 guards. I love you so much, and I know you are used to protecting me, but let me protect you every now and then,” you fought back.

“Ok fine, but if anything happens to you, I’m gonna lose it,” he responded letting his protective side come out again.

“Ok baby,” you said running your hands through his hair. You stood on your tippy toes and gave him a kiss on cheek before going to the bathroom to check your makeup.

About 5 minutes later everyone was gathered in living room paired up with their guards. You were standing next to Paul and Robert your body guards. Paul was about 5'10 and had a Mexican heritage. He had many tattoos up is arms. He always seemed to look pissed off which honestly scared you. Robert was about 6'1 and he was originally from LA. He had worked as a guard for many years which made Shawn very comfortable when you were with him. Paul was newer to security but he was knowledgeable and strong.

“Everyone ready?” Geoff questioned nearing the door. There were many answers but overall the were all just yes. Geoff’s guard opened the door and immediately there were screams.

First Geoff and Andrew went. Then Shawn. You watched as he stepped out and listened as the screams got 4 times louder, if that is even possible. You have them a second before walking out. The screams didn’t stop. Robert was in front of you and Paul was behind you. The minute you got on the other side of the barricade you knew this crowd was stronger than any other you had faced. There were just so many girls. This gave you an anxious feeling.

You began to push forward. There were phones in your face. People pulling on your hair. People tugging on your clothes. Paul and Robert did their best to push anyone to close away.

“We need back up, up here,” you heard John, Shawn’s guard, say into the radio that was hanging off Roberts belt. Your head snapped up looking for any sight of Shawn, though you couldn’t see anything over Roberts tall figure.

Since you were the only other person with more than 1 guard, your guards were the back up.

“I’m gonna help them out,” Robert yelled over the screaming to Paul. Paul reacted quickly coming in front of you. He began to push girls out of the way as Robert maneuvered through the sea of girls o make it to Shawn.

Paul was doing his best, but it wasn’t enough. The girls got so overwhelming. You began to have shorter breaths. You knew what gonna happen if you didn’t calm down, but you didn’t see that happening soon.

You knees began to get wobbly due to the lack of oxygen. You put your hand on Paul’s shoulders for support.

The girls were too much. They were loud, they were close, and they weren’t stopping. You put one hand on your throats feeling it starting to close up. Everything didn’t feel real. You felt like you were in a whole other world. Everything was spinning and every now and then thing would just go black.

You’re chest was killing you. You felt like the weight on the world was resting upon your chest. You were overwhelmed with fear. The fear of being trampled. Or crushed.

By now Paul had realized the state you were in and knew something was wrong.

“There’s something wrong with Y/N. I need help,” he said into his radio. He turned towards you putting his arms under your arms trying to hold you up.

You couldn’t breathe, you blacking out, and everything felt like it was falling to pieces.

“Y/N focus on my eyes. Keep your eyes open,” Paul instructed you. You did your best to follow his instructions but it was so hard. All you wanted to do was collapse. You were just overwhelmed by everything.

You must have blacked out for a couple seconds because when you woke up you were being transferred into someone else’s arms. You looked up and you were met with a pair of soft brown eyes.

“I got baby. I need to you to focus on breathing. Take deep breaths,” Shawn directed. You looked around you realizing the guards had made a circle surrounding you and Shawn.

“Shawn, I need out,” you stuttered. Fear was just kept washing over you.

“I know baby, we are working on it,” he responded. As a group everyone moved forward. Most of you weight was in Shawn’s arms. As much as you tried you couldn’t manage to keep your self up on your own. You were sure if Shawn wasn’t holding you up you could be on the floor. That just scared you even more.

After about 2 minutes of pushing and shoving the group made it to the safety of Shawn’s room in the arena. By now Shawn had just picked you up bridal style realizing that you couldn’t walk on your own. You were in the same state of mind but it was starting to calm down. But Shawn wasn’t calming down.

“What do you need babe? Should I call an ambulance? What do want me to do,” he pleaded. He was almost as distressed as you were. He sat informs of you on the floor while you sat on the couch speechless. You were trying to figure out what happened.

“Could you just hold me,” you asked not being able to come up with anything else. All you really wanted right now was to feel the comfort and safety of Shawn’s arms. He seemed to understand that. He silently moved to the couch pulling you softly into his lap. You rested your head on his shoulder pushing your face farther into his neck. He had one arm under you keeping you from slipping off and the other was playing with your hair. This helped calm you down. After a couple minutes you were pretty calmed down.

“What happened babe? Nothing like this has happened before?” Shawn asked.

“Everything was fine at first. Robert was in front of me, Paul behind me. Then someone asked for backup so Robert left. Which means I had Paul and that was it. Although he’s great, there wasn’t much he could do on his own. The girls just got so overwhelming,” your lip trembled as you recalled the recent events. You shook off the fear that came creeping up again.

“Babe, I’m so sorry. I gonna make sure next time everyone has more guards. That was so unfair to you,” he said his grip getting tighter on you.

“It’s over babe. Nothing we can do. Just hold me, and never let go,” you mumbled getting comfortable again.

“Ok, I can do that,” he responded.

———-
Like, Comment, and Reblog. Really like this one

Thorns (Frank Castle)

Pairing: Frank Castle/Fem!Reader
Words: 1750+
Warning(s): Kidnapping, violence, swearing, slight sexual assault(?)
A/N: An idea that popped in my head that ive been working on for two weeks l o l


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anonymous asked:

Hi, I feel depressed af rn can I have some mclennon to cheer me up please :)

paul had a gigantic photo of him and john in his studio

John had the david bailey photo in his studio:


Paul used to take photos of John when he was asleep. 

they bought two cats for each other.

they used to take long walks together with martha in the afternoon. 

paul waited for john to wake up in the morning while writing a song for him.

they were holding hands when they recorded ‘in my life’.

when brian died paul was looking for john but he couldn’t find him anywhere. suddenly he felt arms being put around him and someone hugging him from behind. it was John. Paul turned to face him and John just say ‘are you alright?’

The night before Valentine’s Day, the last carton of milk in the apartment mysteriously disappeared from the fridge. John wasn’t happy about waking up early to get to the store, but he did so anyway, and the minute the door closed behind him, Sherlock leaped out of his bed and went to wake Rosie.

They’d prepared plenty yesterday. Rosie had cut hearts out of pink construction paper, and now ran around the apartment, taping them to the walls. And Sherlock had done his job too. On each of two hundred origami cranes that he’d folded himself, he’d written “I love you,” and he placed them on every surface he could find. Mrs. Hudson had prepared a delicious batch of sugar cookies, which rested on the table, and she peeked in from the kitchen, ready to take photos. 

When they heard John open the door, Sherlock and Rosie quickly hid behind the couch, Rosie barely able to suppress her giggles. 

“Hello?” John called, stepping into the apartment, putting down his grocery bag, and looking around. Noticing the décor, he remembered which day it was. He’d scheduled a dinner for him, Rosie, Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, and Lestrade later that night, and bought a special present for both Sherlock and Rosie, but he hadn’t expected anything like this. Smiling, he continued into the living room. 

This was Rosie’s cue to dance out from behind the couch, while Mrs. Hudson pressed ‘play’ on the cassette player that Sherlock insisted on having for “reasons,” and “science.” “Father and Daughter” by Paul Simon began to play, and Rosie skipped around the living room while John watched, a huge grin on her little face as she tried different ballet poses that Sherlock had taught her.
John’s smile grew as he watched his daughter dance, and he wiped a tear from his eye. As the song ended, she pranced up to John, proudly delivering him a homemade card that read, “I Love You, Daddy” in pink sparkly letters.

John enveloped her in a huge hug, holding her tight and thanking her for the card, but he almost gasped when Sherlock rose from behind the couch, wearing his signature purple shirt and holding a bouquet of roses. 

Before John could speak, Sherlock gestured to Rosie, who skipped over and took the flowers from him and brought them back to her father, who accepted them with teary eyes.

And then “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton came on, but it wasn’t Eric singing– it was Sherlock’s voice, surprisingly soft and smooth, and all the she’s had been changed to he’s, and John gazed in awe as Sherlock began to dance.
He thought he’d never see anything more beautiful than Sherlock himself, but Sherlock dancing took it to a whole new level. He twirled and leaped delicately, his movements flowing together with the music, and John wondered how he even deserved this amazing a husband, this wonderfully romantic man who he couldn’t ever imagine being without.

The last verse approached, and Sherlock held out his hand to John, gesturing for him to come dance as well. Tears were streaming down John’s cheeks, and he’d never been so happy in his entire life as he took Sherlock by the hands and they danced, looking into each other’s eyes and smiling softly, an incredible moment that neither of them would ever forget.

My darling, you were wonderful tonight.

As the song ended, Sherlock leaned in to kiss John, and Rosie, very used to their displays of affection, clapped and jumped up and down gleefully. John reluctantly pulled away after a few seconds, and in a shaky voice, exclaimed, “I love you, Sherlock. Oh, God, I love you!”

“I love you too, John,” Sherlock whispered back, holding John close and pulling Rosie in so that the three of them could hug.

Mrs. Hudson’s camera flashed as the fathers and daughter embraced, laughing and smiling and full of love, and the tender scene lasted a long time.

And later on, when John unfolded every single one of Sherlock’s paper cranes to reveal two hundred “I love you’s,” his shoulders shook and he began to cry out of pure joy, and Sherlock wrapped his arms around his John and held him there, full of nothing but love that he knew would last forever. 

My darling, you were wonderful tonight.

~
~

_____________________________________________________________________

I didn’t give this one a title. It can speak for itself.

anonymous asked:

Could you please write a fic about the first time John and paul share a bed and they top and tail and it's awkward but then they switch around and sparks fly ⭐️ thank you so much!!

ive been absolute shite with my prompts lately and im so sorrrrrrry but here we go. and yes it’s short im on my lunch break and felt like writing! enjoy.

~

“Bloody hell, I’m knackered.” John stretched as he and his best mate walked into their small shared hotel room. “Je suis fatigué.” Paul said with a smug look on his face, stretching out his arms above his head. “Don’t think that’s right, mate.” John chuckled through a yawn. “We’re in Paris now, John. We should be learnin’ the language of looove!” Paul practically sang as he poked John’s nose playfully. “Sod off.” John rolled his eyes and threw his suitcase down on the floor. “It’s only the first night ‘ere, and yer already being stroppy.” Paul put his suitcase down on the floor too and sat down, crossing his legs in front of it as he unzipped it, pulling it open.

“Only one bed,” Paul observed, not looking away from the contents of his suitcase. “We can take turns every night. I’ll get it tonight.” John flopped himself down on the small, single bed. “You wha’?!” Paul’s head shot up to look at John. He would get that bed tonight. “Well, it was my bright idea, wasn’t it?” John stripped his shirt off and crossed his arms behind his head and kicked his shoes off. “Get off.” Paul stood up and put his hands on his hips, staring down at his friend. John reached up and pulled the chord for the lamp. “Might as well give up Macca. ’m not movin’.” He wasn’t lying at all, either. The lad didn’t move a muscle. Paul started to take his boots off, followed by his shirt.

“Shove over, then.” He ordered. John looked up at him. Paul could see his eyes through the darkness. “What?” John yawned again. “We can go top and tail. Mike and I used t'have to.” Paul explained as he watched his friend shift himself over to make room for him. Paul crawled in and lied down with his feet beside John. “Night, Macca.” John grumbled. Paul groaned in response. The two lads laid there silently, both of them trying their hardest to get comfortable. It was seemingly impossible. John kept kneeing Paul in the stomach, and Paul would flick him lightly in return.

John tried to roll over, which caused a half asleep Paul to nearly fall off the bed. “Ugh,” Paul grunted as he tried to rearrange himself to benefit the two of them. “Alright, that’s enough.” John sat up and looked down at his friend, who looked back at him with tired eyes. “Just come up here.” John ordered, pointing to the small space beside him. Paul didn’t feel like arguing, or calling him a poof. He was too tired for that. Plus, it was John.

Paul sat up and spun himself around so he was sitting up right next to John. The boys lied down, and almost instantly they were more comfortable. “Better?” Paul whispered as he felt John’s hand lightly brush against his bare back. Paul heard John hum in response, and he felt his breath on the back of his neck, sending unfamiliar sparks down Paul’s spine. His arm began to fall asleep, so he rolled over to face the older lad. Suddenly, John’s arm was wrapped around Paul’s waist and he was being pulled in toward John. Their noses were practically touching, and both of their eyes were closed as if they were hiding from something.

“Macca,” John whispered so quietly that he almost didn’t hear himself. “Mm?” Paul mumbled, lifting his head slightly so his nose pushed up against John’s. “This is better,” John kept his voice hushed. “Much better,” Paul agreed as John wrapped his other arm under Paul, pulling his body even closer. Soon, their legs were entwined in a web of themselves. Paul rest his forehead against John’s and wrapped his arms slowly around his neck, smiling when he caught scent of John. The familiar leathery, cigarette stained smell that Paul always associated with his friend.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, their lips met. Slowly and lightly, barely touching. Paul couldn’t have asked for a better sleeping arrangement than this. “Paul,” John whispered again, but this time Paul could feel the way John’s lips moved when he said his name. Paul pressed his lips against John’s a bit harder, lightly running his tongue across John’s bottom lip. John slowly pulled away, wide eyed and staring into Paul’s still tired looking eyes.

Paul let out a soft yawn and nuzzled his face into the crook of John’s neck, closing his eyes again. Before he fell asleep, he could’ve sworn he felt a gentle kiss on the top of his head before hearing the words uttered from John’s mouth. But he swore he heard them.

“Je t'aime.”

blue (hamilsquad x reader)

Request:

Anonymous said: more about the hamilsquad?

Word Count: 781

A/N: Say no more

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Wishes of Sunset and Moondust

Rating: T

Pairing: John Lennon/Paul McCartney

Prince & stable boy AU - Romance - Fairytale - Pining - Fluff

Wishes of Sunset and Moondust

Sunset in your eyes. Moondust in the lining of your skin. What hope did I ever have?

He had been in love with the prince of sunset eyes and moonlit skin for as long as he could remember, his sweetshop window, wishing for an impossible dream. He was but a stable boy by the name of John, just John, working in the dirt, and longing for the stars.

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Q: Did you see The Beatles differently from John Lennon?

Paul: Hmm. I don’t think so. We all had a common vision, at least in the early days. Then everyone seemed to think that we wanted to go in different directions. But I’m not even sure that’s true. The thing about me and John is that we were different, but we weren’t that different. I think Linda put her finger on it when she said me and John were like mirror images of each other. Even down to how we started writing together, facing each other, eyeball to eyeball, exactly like looking in the mirror. That’s how songs like ‘I Want To Hold Your Hand" were written.


Q: You were like two sides of the same person?


Paul: Well said. But the sides would switch. On the surface, I was very easy-going, always accommodating. That came easy to me. That’s how I’d been brought up. But, at certain times, I would very much be the hard man of the duo. At certain moments, I could bite. But that would be when no one outside the group was watching. John would allow me to take that role because it enabled him to drop his guard and be vulnerable. On the surface, he was this hard, witty guy, always on hand with a cutting witticism. He appeared caustic, even cruel at times. But really he was very soft. John was very insecure. He carried a lot of that from his upbringing, what with his father leaving when he was five. Then, of course, we’d both lost our mothers so we had that in common.
Ultimately, we were equals. All The Beatles were equals. If things got too deep, Ringo would crack a one-liner and that kept us on a level. If things were getting too sentimental, John would harden it up. If John was getting too hostile, I’d soften it down. Then George was always on hand with his own kind of unique wisdom.

—  Uncut Magazine, July 2004
FANFIC CONTEST "IF I FELL"

Rating: General
Warning notes: none

“Mr. McCartney, this is for you.”
Paul turned towards the boy on their dressing room’s door. He was very young, probably new here, and already involved in the set-up of Wings’s first gig in New York. It was perfectly clear the reverential respect in his eyes. It was something Paul had seen many times by now, and still he had never gotten used to.
He got up, walking away for a moment from his new band and his daughters, who were playing very noisily. Paul went to the boy, who seemed very scared of interrupting their post-gig party. In his hands there was a basket full of presents: some flowers, a box of chocolate and many letters and packages.
“Who sends it?” Paul asked, picking up the basket.
“Your fans, sir, they left them in the entry.”
“Thanks… um…”
“Michael, sir, my name’s Michael.” The boy answered right away.
“Thank you very much, Michael.” Paul said with a wink, “Very kind of you.”
Michael smiled briefly, and with a nod he went away.
Paul chuckled to himself and started to look around his presents. He put the flowers aside, while chocolate went with the other food. He would have read the letters later, but the packages aroused his curiosity. After all he knew that some fans were very original about choosing what to give him. By now he had an enviable collection with all sorts of plushies and female underwear. It was funny when he was younger and single, but now he was married with a family, and it was a little bit inappropriate. Fortunately Linda became used to it quite soon. She perfectly knew who she was married to!
Amongst all those presents, though, there was something very soft which drew his attention. He immediately took it in his hands and started to unwrapped it.
The chatter of his bandmates and the shrieks of his daughters became just a muffled noise all round him, when he ended up with a shirt in his hands.
A red checked shirt.
*****
“And how much will you stay away?”
Paul was sitting on John’s bed, gently strumming his guitar while he was staring at his mate stuffing clothes in a little rucksack. John was about to leave for Durness.
“Don’t worry, Macca. I’ll see your stupid face in just a week.”
“Mm.”
Paul mumbled, bending his head, and John stopped immediately to look at him with a very clever smile. He knew very well what was in his bandmate’s little head.
“Please, not again, Paul.”
“What?” Paul asked, looking at him curiously.
“You’re going to be a fucking pansy. Again.”
Paul pouted, outraged, resting his guitar aside, “I’m not.”
“Yes, you are, I know you by now. You’re going to say you’ll be missing me and that you hope I’ll come back soon.”
John laughed, teasing him, and Paul snorted, crossing his arms on his chest, “Go fuck yourself, Lennon. I heartily recommend it.”
“I’ll gladly do it. But, first of all, I’ll ask you a favour.”
“My arse!” Paul mumbled, pouting deeply.
“That’ll be wonderful. Maybe later, Paulie. At the moment I was thinking something less entertaining. And if you’ll do it for me, I promise I’ll tell you something beautiful.”
The promise John was offering him was quite tempting and it worked: Paul turned to look at him, lifting an eyebrow.
“What is it?”
“Well, do me a favour first, and then I’ll tell you. I’m not so stupid, am I?”
The boy on the bed sighed, defeated, “Let’s see.”
“Could you bring me that pair of white jeans in the closet, please?”
“That’s all? What’s the matter with you? Your Highness is too exhausted for a little walk?”
It was literally just a walk, two fucking steps, Paul thought dragging himself on his feet.
“Hey, someone is working really hard here and it’s not you. And, I’m sorry for asking you, sir, but haven’t you come here to help me?
“I came just to say goodbye, that’s all. Now I’m regretting it.”
John giggled, getting back to his task: putting clothes, underwear and anything else in the suitcase.
Paul opened the closet and looked for John’s white jeans on the shelves. He hated those jeans. John was irresistible with them on, and Paul have seen him pulling too many birds in Liverpool. Did he have to bring those to Durness? Why couldn’t he choose something else?
Biting his lower lip to hold back his sudden jealousy attack, Paul tried to focus on his task. When he saw the jeans, he reached for them and started to pull back, but his attention was caught by something else. It was the well-known colour of a roughly folded shirt, hidden between the messy and crumpled clothes.
He immediately recognised that shirt: it was the same shirt John was wearing when they met for the first time three years ago. Three long, wonderful, perfect years ago.
Paul grabbed it and stared, unaware he had a very stupid smile on his lips. He was caught up remembering that day, how fucking awesome was seeing John playing and singing for the first time, how Paul was thrilled while he was performing in front of someone that looked like bloody Elvis. So when John called him, Paul jumped.
“What’s up?”
“Oh, nothing.” Paul said, trying to hide his embarrassment, “I just found this one.”
“So what?”
John’s confused look made him worrying.
“You don’t remember, do you?”
“I remember it’s a terrible shirt.” John pointed out, looking at it with a sneer, “How the fuck could I even wear it?”
Paul sighed and looked the shirt with a very deep desire, “If you don’t like it anymore, can I take it?”
“Don’t even talk about it. At least you must tell me first what it should remind me. I have to know what sort of relic I’m giving away.”
“Well, if you don’t remember it, maybe it’s not important for you. Don’t you think?” Paul asked very disappointed, throwing the jeans across his face.
John stared to Paul’s pout for a while, then he walked over him and pushed the boy on the bed.
“What the fuck are you going to do?” Paul complained, trying to get up again.
All his efforts were useless, John was faster and climbed on him, pinning him down against the mattress with his body’s weight.
“I am a fucking egocentric and forgetful prick, Paul! Tell me now and don’t act like a fucking pansy. It’s just so stupid.”
“Me.” Paul burst out, “It has to remind you of me.”
John seemed to think about it very well, before he had an enlightenment, and then he smiled.
“Oh, yeah, it’s that shirt, isn’t it?”
Paul curled his lips in a deeper pout, and looked away towards the shirt. It has slipped away from his hands when John had grabbed his wrists.
“Paul, you’re so cute when you’re mad at me, but please, don’t be.”
Paul just ignored him.
“Come on, you know how I am. It’s not really my fault, is it?” John mumbled, holding the tip of Paul’s nose between his fingers.
Paul sighed, “Sadly.”
John bend down, rubbing his face against Paul’s soft cheek, “Please, smile for your good old Johnny.”
Paul turned to look at him again and stared at John’s begging little smile, so close to Paul that the younger lad shivered unconsciously in his arms.
“All right then, cheeky bastard.”
John seemed satisfied when Paul smiled at him. Finally.
“However I can’t really give it to you, now. I perfectly remember its sentimental value.” John said grabbing the shirt with a hand and hiding it behind his back.
“It’s not fair.”
“It’s mine, after all. Perfectly fair. Why the hell do you want it anyway?”
“Because I like it and it reminds me of you.”
“You don’t need this to remember me, do you?” John whispered on Paul’s lips.
The younger lad stared at that sweet and familiar mouth with longing, mumbling something very stupid, “Do I?”
John shook his head, and then he went down and kissed him, tenderly and passionately, so much that Paul was left with red cheeks and out of breath.
Maybe, maybe!, John managed to make him forget about that bloody shirt.
“And… mm… that was the beautiful thing you had to tell me?”
But not that, apparently.
What a memory, Macca!
“Yeah, that was it, stupid git.”
“It wasn’t exactly something to tell, was it?”
And then John laughed, before kissing him again and again.
“Really, Paul, how fucking fussy you are?”
And again and again…
*****
Paul held the shirt in his hands.
The memory, even if so far away, was still so vivid and alive that raised powerful feelings in him. Feelings that would have overwhelmed him right now and then, if Linda didn’t come along.
“What is it?”
“Oh, nothing, darling. Present from some fan.”
Linda stared at the shirt with a smile, before turning towards her husband, “They never gave you a shirt, did they?”
“No.” Paul said with a smile, “Never.”
The woman giggled and picked up one of the chocolates boxes for the girls.
Paul looked again at the shirt, noticing a little note that was sticking out from the small pocket. He immediately took it to read it, even if he already knew what was written on.
And most important, who had written it.
‘Happy anniversary, Paul.’

Four days later in London, McCartney began cutting the soundtrack for a projected film about the beloved Daily Express children’s character Rupert Bear, to which he owned the rights. Among the tunes recorded were ‘Rupert Song (Parts 1 and 2)’, ‘Tippi Tippi Toes’ and ‘The Castle Of The King Of The Birds’. A thirty-eight-piece orchestra and a boys’ choir joined Paul to lay down both vocal and humming versions of the rousing ‘We All Stand Together’, which would be a British hit some four years later.

McCartney was sipping a Scotch and Coke when the young choristers filed out, in a reflective mood; the song had moved him. Around midnight, a Cinderella moment in the empty studio when the gear was being stowed, he turned to Linda and one or two friends and told them that it reminded him of the famously trippy session for ‘All You Need Is Love. ‘It was that same vibe. I just looked around, and there were all these flowers and happy faces smiling up at me.’ Another sip or two, and he began murmuring huskily, ‘John… John…’ And Paul bent over chuckling, as though it had been yesterday rather than thirteen years before.

—  Christopher Sandford, McCartney. (2005)

anonymous asked:

please please please write more modern day old paul and old john au's! i love them

im glad you like them!!! xoxo

“Macca,” 

“Macca, wake up.”

“Wake up, you lazy old fart!” 

“Bloody hell, John! What do you want?!” Paul reluctantly opened his eyes and looked over to John, who was standing in the doorway of their master bedroom with his hands on his hips. “I want you to get your old ass out of bed, is what I want.” John told him with a slight chuckle. “I have nothing scheduled today, baby. Leave me alone to get my beauty sleep.” Paul rolled over and lifted the covers above his head. “Beauty sleep? Look at ye,” John said as he ripped the covers off of Paul’s head. “Yer all wrinkly!” John poked at Paul’s face like a little child. 

“John! Bugger off, you’re still a 16 year old boy inside, I swear.” Paul tried to hide his laughter as he pushed the older man’s hand away. “Get up, Macca.” John continued to poke at Paul’s bare torso. “I want to play, Granddad, please Granddad! Can we play?!” John began tickling Paul as he giggled. “I’m too old for this!” Paul sat up laughing, relieved when John pulled his hands away. “You’re too old to be sleeping in until 11:30AM! You’re a grown man now Paul, it’s time you began acting like one!” The voice John had used could only remind Paul of John’s dearest departed Aunt Mimi, bringing back memories of the two men when they were young teenagers, running and hiding through her house as young lovers. 

“Alright, alright. You’ve gotten me awake.” Paul said, swinging his legs off the bed and stretching out his arms above his head. “Get dressed and showered, Macca.” John told him before placing a quick kiss on the man’s cheek. “I don’t want t’leave the house today, John love. One day without cameras and autographs could do us some good.” Paul raised a brow at him. John didn’t respond. He just shrugged and stood up, heading for the door. He didn’t make it to the doorway without bumping his shoulder into their big dresser. “Fuckin’ hell!” John grabbed his shoulder and spun around to look at Paul, to see if he had seen his little accident. “You’re 77 years old, John. I shouldn’t have t’remind you t’wear yer bloody glasses.” Paul didn’t look up at him as he spoke, he just put his arms through a t-shirt and pulled it over his head, messing up his greying hair even more than his prolonged sleep had.

John grabbed his glasses off the top of the dresser and put them on, instantly covering his eyes with his arms. “AH! Put that thing away!” He said, trying not to laugh. “You wha?” Paul tilted his head slightly at the command. “All those wrinkles, it’s too much!” John couldn’t help but break out into a gut-bursting laugh as he made fun of his long-time boyfriend. Paul couldn’t help but chuckle along with him, standing up and approaching him. “I’m sure if we counted wrinkles,” He began to speak as he wrapped his arms around John’s still-slim waist, “You’d have more on that face of yours.” His voice became hushed as their faces grew closer together. “Ah, Macca.” John chuckled softly and rested his forehead against the younger man’s. 

John’s arms soon found their way around Paul’s neck, foreheads still resting against one another, and they began to sway their hips from side to side slowly. There was no music playing, no. But the two always had a song stuck in their head, or even in the works, playing in their mind. They swayed back and forth in the doorway of the master bedroom, resting against each other’s aging bodies. The whole house was silent as they embraced one another, and neither of them would’ve wanted that to change. John filled Paul completely with satisfaction in every way, he was full of love, hope, music, and laughter. Paul did the same thing for John. If neither of them were ever allowed to leave the house again, they’d be completely satisfied so long as they were together. 

Paul broke out on a long yawn, to which John smiled. “Yer not gettin’ dressed yet.” John observed. “Yer not helpin’, baby.” Paul finally kissed John softly. Even after 56+ years of kisses shared between them, each kiss still felt as exciting and exhilarating as the first kiss they ever experienced together. John let go of Paul, but still rested his hands on Paul’s chest. “Get dressed, we have a reservation to get to.” He smiled before placing one more gentle kiss on Paul’s lips. “Reservations?” Paul pulled his head back, only to be met with another kiss. “Yes, baby. Reservations.” John nodded, kissing Paul again before he could argue. “Ff-for what?” He muffled his words into John’s mouth. “You’ll see. Your suit is in the bathroom. I’ll meet you outside at the car in 15 minutes.” John winked at him as he headed out of their bedroom and down the stairs.

“Suit?” Paul questioned John out loud to himself as he went into the bathroom. John wasn’t lying, either. There was a suit hanging up waiting for him. Paul quickly jumped into the shower before putting it on. It was a perfect fit, anyway. Paul knew it wasn’t one of his suits, John must have had it tailored and made up for him. He smiled at the thought and headed down the stairs to see John at the bottom in a suit of his own. “Don’t we have time for a tea?” Paul asked, not wanting to push further questions. “Nah.” John answered simply, linking his arm  with Paul’s and ushering him out the door and down their long driveway, curtained by beautiful trees, bushes and flowers. “Where are we going, John? You’ve got me anxious.” Paul admitted, the suspense was killing him now.

“The registry’s office. We’ve been together for nearly a million years now, Paul. I think it’s time we get married.”