#mccartneyx

[artfulwraith]

"No. The answer is no."

Sutcliffe blinks in bewilderment, lithe arms barricading his chest as he peers in exasperation at the belligerent McCartney. The other Beatle’s seemingly eternal apathy towards his presence is disconcerting yet he beckons a forced smirk, one wrought more now from his befuddlement than amiability

“Paul, we have hours before the gig… she’s leaving at six-thirty. If we could just practice afterward there will still be time to pull it all together, you know?”

Astrid’s departure is imminent and the enamored Sutcliffe cannot fathom rehearsing while she remains in the city. The alluring German wants to take his photograph before she leaves and insists the engagement be exclusive. Sutcliffe’s mind can barely focus on the conflict at hand as it meanders onto the evening’s titillating possibilities.  

[artfulwraith]

An expanse of wrinkled sheets are left between the slumbering forms of Lennon and Best upon the mattress they share with Sutcliffe. The sleepless Beatle retreats into a more obscure nook of the Bambi Kino: the threshold of a now vacant woman's lavatory, its occupancy presently devoid of typical lecherous happenings. Stu's spine promises against the wooden arch of the door, a calf propped upward to rest the sole of his boot on its opposing side. The Höfner 333 lays parallel to his thigh, the soft pads of his fingertips indented still from furiously worrying over its frets. Sutcliffe peers on wearily, frigid muscles discouraging further practicing yet his reeling mind prohibits him from relenting to the suffocating confines of the adjacent room.

[amerrysight]

keep a clean nose ;; 1965

     Meticulously slathering shaving cream onto an angular mandible, Lennon unceremoniously bows into the vicinity of the complimentary loo mirror, virtually unaware of the comely bloke engaged in a similar occupation adjacent to him. At the reminder of his presence, roguish optics spare a hasty glance, squinting menacingly at the reflection of his engrossed counterpart. Lanky digits plunge into the excess of shaving cream as he beckons the attention of the taciturn bassist.

     “‘Ay Paulie, ye’ missed a spot!” He innocuously imparts on the insensible balladeer, musculature pivoting to confront the opposing male. Without ascertaining consent, Lennon slaps the softener onto the diminutive sniffer of his unassuming coequal, humming with obnoxious fervency as he procures the razor from its resting position atop the counter. “’Ow-nly taek eh minute uf ye’ tiem, ser.” He commands, scouse pointedly emphasized, tone befitting of an urchin as he clamps rounded nostrils between trustworthy digits, humming proceeding at maximum volume. He tugs the feature every which way in order to ghost the blade across the surface of its flesh at every angle.

     “Stop ye’ warblin’, y’git. Got t'keep ye' good name, sir, Mr. Proctor, sir. Can’t very well be playin' f’er a bunch of Americans with a grimy noser, eh?”

[managedbyepstein]

Eppy, Eppy, Eppy, Eppy, Eppy, Eppy--

Yes, Paul? Is there something I can help you with?

[xasher]

          she'll settle sidelong into his lap--- but her intent isn't to be suggestive, just to be a little closer.

[somethingaboutlayla-blog]

"I miss her."

Paul had come to visit George and Pattie not long after his breakup with Jane, and really, neither of them were all that happy with what happened, especially not Pattie since she and Jane were good friends. While Paul and George talked Pattie busied herself with reading, not really in the mood to converse with Paul. 

George had left them both alone while he went to go get them all some food and left Pattie with Paul. At his words Pattie sighed, "Well, you should have thought about that before doing---- that." Pattie said. Paul seemed rather said, and Pattie was being rather mean, and without real reason. 

Sighing lightly once more, she closed her book and went over to Paul, sitting beside him and hugging him lightly. "I know you do, I'm sorry love." She said, squeezing his hand lightly, hopefully it was some what comforting. 

[xasher]

"I'm not gonna take it back."

‘ you take it back, right now. you can't say those things t'me, y'have to take it back. ’

[xasher]

   ‘ sing me somethin' pretty. ’