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John Lennon and Paul McCartney in Magical Mystery Tour (1967)

#beatlesedit #thebeatlesedit #the beatles #beatles #classic rock #classic rock fandom #john lennon #paul mccartney #mclennon #magical mystery tour #mmt #p: john #p: paul #movie: magical mystery tour #decade: 1960s #mine

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Jax: Hey doc

#p: john

the beatles, 1964

#the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #beatlesedit #thebeatlesedit #a hard day's night #myedit #i kinda like this??#p: john #p: paul #p: george #p: ringo #s: the beatles #m: a hard day's night #edit: graphics #mygraphics

echoes ;;

@jackxdawlish

His magical eye was starting to hurt from whizzing around so much.

Late nights in the office weren’t something that Alastor was a stranger to. He was very much a fan of the first one in, last one out policy-- he actually disliked people who left work right at the same time every day. Being an Auror wasn’t just a job to him, a way to make ends meet, it was a responsibility, to himself and his community. And for him, that lasted beyond the traditional seven to five workday.

But being in the office late at night hadn’t been easy for Alastor for some time. The incident that had given him his magical eye and nearly blinded him had rattled him more than he would ever admit, and the moment the last person was out of the office, Alastor got jumpier than he was even on his worst days. He didn’t get up to leave his office, he didn’t go to get coffee, he just sat there. Paralyzed. All the lights turned on in the office as brightly as he could make them to keep figures from lurking in the shadows, his door closed and locked, even though he was still sitting inside. The pile of papers for him to go through reached from the floor to the top of his desk, and he remained there, in his own little box, until he was done, and could apparate straight home.

His magical eye whirred around in his head constantly as he sat there, trying to keep an eye on every door and entrance, every lift and exit for any sign of trouble. But after a few hours trying to focus between reading and keeping watch, Alastor was starting to get a headache. The best way he’d found to deal with it was to let the eye soak in some water for a little while, and it was with reluctance that he got up, filled a cup with some water, and with an unpleasant plunk dropped the eye inside.

It was strange that he felt almost blind without it. he hadn’t had the eye for all that long, several months, but it felt like longer. Like long enough for him to start using it as a crutch to ease his paranoia. And while Alastor didn’t like it, necessarily, it was useful in its own way, so he tolerated it. He watched the eye twitch in the glass and sighed, putting his hand over the empty socket and closing his other eye for a moment. He was exhausted, he should just go home. It was late.

Something thunked out in the other room, and Alastor froze.

It wasn’t an intentional sound, like someone coming back into the office, or an accidental thunk. He wasn’t sure what it was, all he knew was that the moment he heard it, all calm immediately disappeared from his body. His wand was in his hand in an instant, and he tiptoed towards his door, hand outstretched to open it. He should’ve grabbed his eye, he didn’t know why he didn’t---

The door opened, and the person on the other side shot backwards as the hex Alastor threw hit them squarely in the chest. He stepped forward, advancing quickly, and---

It was John.

“I-- fuck, are you okay?” He put his hand over his eye socket.