Beatles!Slash

beatlesslash @ 2008-07-26T00:58:00

2008-07-26T08:02:46Z

Hello everyone! My name's Jade and I'm new to LiveJournal. I figured since I liked reading most of all of your guys' stories anyway, I should probably join : ) I've attempted to write slash before and I'll post one up soon (as soon as I figure out just exactly how to work LiveJournal) so I can get feedback on it and see if it's actually good or not. :D
Cheers,
Jade

Will Everything be Ok? J/P Completed

2008-07-22T23:09:10Z

Title: Will Everything Be Ok?
Author: Robin Gurl
Pairing: J/P
Year: 1964
Pairing: PG-13 (cussing)
Summary: After a heated fight John breaks down about what’s been worrying him.
A/N:I couldn’t remember what year Julia died, so that may be off. It’s not exactly mentioned in the story but I wrote it thinking late 1964 as the year when it took place so just whatever. This idea just popped into my head and I wrote on it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea.

This way to read

beatlesslash @ 2008-07-21T11:55:00

2008-07-21T15:56:53Z

Hello everyone, Andsoshewrites here! And as you may or may not know, I started a Beatles slash RPG, called thebeatleworld

And wow. I never realized the writers I'd get. Honestly, everyone is such an amazing writer, and I am so lucky to have the chance to write with them and to have them as a part of my RPG.

But I know there's been some complaint about everything that's been being posted lately in Beatle comms, and I just thought that I'd tell everyone about thebeatleworld. So far we have a Paul (me), John, George, Ringo, Brian, Cynthia, Pattie, Bob Dylan, and even a Derek Taylor.

And I personally think the storyline is great. Everything works out quite well. Here are a list of some of the relationships that have been played in the RP:

John/Paul
John/Brian
Paul/George
Brian/George
Cynthia/Bob Dylan

And of coarse, John/Cynthia and George/Pattie.

We post quite often, and all the NC-17 threads are friends-locked, but you can join just to watch :D/

But, if you want to play, you can. We're currently looking for a Jane Asher and a Maureen Cox. But if you want to be someone else, you may. Just send me an email at andsoshewrites@yahoo.com and read the profile of thebeatleworld

Now, here are the current players:

nemperor as mrepstein
alicia_h as cyn_lennon64
maccas4evrlver as johnwlennon
blut_kruez as george_harri_22 and bob_dylan_1954
hirelk as richiestarr
749_penny_lane as derek_taylor
warning7280 as pattieboyd64
andsoshewrites as jamespmacca

And honestly, each and every one of them to a fantastic job! (Maybe not me, so much as them)

I'll put some snippets of the RP under a cut, so you all can see if you like it :]

When John cheated on Paul with Brian:

I stopped before turning the doorknob. I half turned to Paul, looking in his direction but not at him.

"I let him suck me off, ya know. I had every intention of fucking him... and I would have, too, but..." I sighed angrily.

Why was I hellbent on just... fucking EVERYTHING up?

"Still love me now?" I rushed with a scoff, my voice hard and rough, but my eyes burning with unshed tears.

All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. Was my heart even beating to push it there? Well, it had to be, but I couldn't feel it...

I was hurting Paul. And I hated doing that... but a cold realization settled over me... I feared I would always be hurting Paul. And that's probably why I was always pushing him away. I was afraid of his love because I knew I would always be fucking it up.

If it wasn't Brian, something else would be loaded into my arsenal. I knew that... and as much as I wished I could change it, I couldn't see any way that I could. And I was tired of hurting Paul. He didn't deserve it. So, in a weird way that didn't make sense even in my head... I could have been trying to protect him. From me.

Paul's response?

"Yes," I snapped, "I already knew you did shit with Brian. Fuck it, John, you could throw me from the top of this hotel and I'd still love you."

But things still weren't okay

"I'll always be hurting you, Paul," I breathed, staring down at the floor.

Did he understand that? I imagined there was no way that he could... My knuckles were turning white from my intense grip on the doorknob. My stomach was doing acrobatics. I felt like being sick.

"I don't... want to hurt you... I just... know I will. You don't deserve that. I can't put you through that."

I turned the doorknob. My world was crashing down. I needed him. More than anything in the world. I needed him to be happy. And I knew I could never bring that to anyone...

Would Paul stand for that?

What...what was he trying to say?

I reached out to him, pulling him closer to me. My face found his chest, my arms his waist.

"Shut up."

We all know John wouldn't sway that easily...

My hands balled into fists as Paul wrapped his arms around me. I didn't move to return his gesture, although I wanted to.

"You deserve so much more, Paul. I can never be what you need. I just can't!" I slammed my fist into the door behind me, frustrated.

"I need you... You have no idea how much I need you."

"That's great, Paul, but do you know what I need? I need you to stop. Just... stop. I can't take it. I'm not enough for you... I can see that, why can't you? Just......"

I took a deep breath.

"Leave me alone."

My eyes closed. Those words had cut through my throat like razor blades. It hurt to have said them. But... I felt it needed to be done...

I'm not so sure Paul would react so kindly to that. Lets see.

I stiffened, the words hitting me, crushing me. I let go of him and stepped back.

"Fuck you, Lennon," I spat, anger overtaking me. "I think I can choose what is or is not enough for me." I looked away tears threating to fall.

Lets finish this off with John.

"Apparently not, if you're hell-bent on choosing me... Unlike you, I can see beyond next week, and it's obvious that I'll only... you know exactly what's going to happen, there's no way you can't! I don't want to hurt you, can't you see that? All I'll ever be able to do is hurt people and I don't want you to be one of them!"

I wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in my arms, kiss his tears away, assure him I was just... out of my mind for a moment, we could be together forever... But, I knew that wasn't true... I meant every word that I said. I didn't want to hurt Paul... and I knew that that was all I'd ever be capable of doing.

"Fuck, Paul. I love you, I hope you still see that, even though I can't-"

I stared at him for a brief moment before I sighed and walked out the door.

So Paul's heartbroken, and turns to the only person who knew about his taboo relationship with John.

I shook my head and fell back into the bed. I glanced from the ceiling to the back of Paul's head and then back to the ceiling. "Well, it's just shit either way. John's got problems, Paul." I paused and anger welled uo in my stomach and I felt mys kin heat with it. "I don't know why you let yourself get involved with him in the first place when there are plenty of other out there who would treat you..." I choked on my words and glared at the ceiling. I couldn't say what I wanted, so I tried to backtrack. "I mean...he'll realize he's been stupid and come back. It's what he always does isn't it? You'll see."

"You don't understand, George.

"No, I do. It's John. you can't help but love John, no matter how much of an idiot or a bastard he is. Who doesn't love John? And you're his best friend." The word felt a little sour in my mouth. There had been a time when I had been Paul's best friend, but a lot had changed since then. "If I'm not understanding than there's more to it, but from what you've said John's just thrown another tantrum and it'll blow over and he'll come back to you." I turned my head to Paul and looked at him seriously. "If he doesn't, all of this, us, it's all over."

Now, lets add a bit of alcohol into this...

"We can't." I moaned breathlessly, arching so my hips were pressed into his.

My body was not cooperating with my mind.
.
Well, at least Paul was trying to protest.

No, we can't. Paul's right. Then why is he pressing up into me like this? My body was so confused and edged Paul's legs open with my knee.

Our groins met fully as I let my weight sink halfway back down onto Paul. I was getting hard and my pants were feeling all too tight.

"I'm sorry, I know. I'll stop." I gasped. But my hips rolled again and my hand slid farther up Paul's shirt.

John knew something was going on he didn't know about. Brian and George had a secret conversation, which stopped abruptly when John walked in the room. Because John didn't want to be kept out of the dark, he decided to question George mercilessly, showing up at his flat.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and walked into my kitchen. I needed some water my throat was totally dry, and I could barely think with John yelling at me.

Well, there really was only one thing I could tell him. The only way to be at least partially honest with John, and at the same time, hopefully keep him from blowing up.

I took a swallow of my water and then looked at John sqaurely in the face. "John, I wasn't leaving you, not the way you think at least. I just... I wanted to talk to Brian because, I'm.." I faltered again, was this really the smartest thing?

I couldn't see anyother way out, and Paul was offering no help just lying the way he was on the couch. But then, he really couldn't do anything either. Fuck.

"I like guys John. I like fucking guys, okay? You happy now?" I said.

I was so utterly grateful that at least I was saying this to the newly sexually reformed John Lennon, and not the totally straight homophobic quip he had been.

Okay, so that was a distraction, and good enough to stop the questioning. Oh wait, did I mention that Paul was right there, sitting on the couch?

I laughed out loud in surprise.

"What? You're... no.... no way! How did you figure that out? Who did you--" My eyes wandered to Paul on the couch nonchalantly. But then stayed there as my face fell.

And then it clicked.

And my world went dark.

I grabbed George's shirt collar with one hand and swung full force with the other.

Okay, so I've highlighted George, John, and Paul enough. How about some Eppy?

So here's the story. During the AHDN premiere, John was trying to feel up Brian in the theater, only to find George's hand doing the same. This resulted in a fight, George beating the shit out of John. There's more to the story, but I don't want to give it all away. Anyway, Brian decided he had to cover up John's bruises with some of Pattie's make-up, so they're both alone in the bathroom. John confessed that it was ("You're boyfriend") George who did this to him, saying that George was just probably jealous.

"And now you're ready to face the world," I pronounced, stepping back to admire my handiwork. "As good as new."

But was I ready to face the world? Was I even ready to face my own feelings? I could see myself reflected in the mirror, over his shoulder. Despite my carefully combed hair and artfully knotted tie, I felt disheveled and conspicuous. Everything laid bare in a hotel mirror. I raised my chin and stared back at myself haughtily, as if daring my reflection to say the things that John was forbearing to say. My face was still unnaturally flushed, my colour high. It showed my complete lack of self-control, that I could allow myself to get so excited--so aroused--by something as simple as this.

It had meant nothing--my encounters with John, the seduction of George, the touches in the cinema, the fight. None of it meant anything. How could it, when I couldn't even express the way that I felt? When I couldn't even bring myself to ask a simple question?

"It's my job to help you," I said simply. "You know that."

My response was so earth-shatteringly banal that I felt a fresh wave of self-loathing run through me as I heard myself saying the words. And something about that feeling catalyzed me into action. If I didn't say something, then I didn't deserve another chance.

As John turned to go, I put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"John, tell me this. If the answer is no, I'll never ask again. I promise you that. Does George have anything to be jealous of?"

Well John?

It could have been a lifetime. It could have been a thousand eternities. It could have been two seconds... until my voice finally started working. I was just staring at him.

He was still willing to--

After everything I'd--

I was such an arsehole. There was no way around it.

"Eppy-" I tried, my hand on his arm. "I didn't fight back for you. There's not a scratch on George... because... he made me realize something. I treat you horribly. I'm so hateful and mean and I take everything for granted. I treat you like shite, Eppy... but I don't know any other way to be. I guess I'm scared of what I feel for you..."

I had to stop and catch my breath. Then I tried again.

"I want to say, 'No,' I have to say, 'No,' I need to say, 'No,' so.... no, Eppy. He doesn't have anything to be jealous of."

I knew he could see it in my face that I was lying. I knew he could. So I turned away, not wanting him to see it in my eyes. I couldn't keep leading Eppy on, I couldn't keep playing games with him. I loved Paul. Sometimes I really wondered why, but I did, and there was nothing that could change that.

I loved Brian, too, though...

The answer should have been as clear as black and white. But it was muddied by so much grey, I couldn't even see the original picture anymore...

That's a no. Well Brian, how do you take such a rejection?

For all his protestations of being a horrible person, John was taking the mature and sensible approach to this whole messy situation. He was saying what I, as the manager, should have been strong enough to say. Whatever our feelings were--and I still wasn't sure about John's, except that they led him to spontaneously grope me in crowded cinemas--acting on them was not the right thing to do. Talking about them was not the right thing to do. And continuing to hope was not the right thing to do.

And all of those were exactly what I had been doing.

It was no surprise to me that John treated me with scorn and contempt much of the time. In fact there was something comforting about it. It was exactly how I deserved to be treated. Now John, for some reason, had decided to take the high road. And I... I would follow along faithfully, as I always did.

"Thank you for making that clear," I said softly, feeling tears gathering in my eyes. "I'm sorry for embarrassing you with the question."

I looked downwards, putting my hand on a brass faucet and idly admiring its shine. Just for something to do, something to look at that wasn't John.

"You can go now," I added after a moment's silence. "The other boys will be looking for you. I'll... I'll catch you up."

As he turned to go, I added one last thing, unable to stop myself.

"If you ever need... anything... you know that you can always come to me."

He knew what I meant.

Well, that's all I'm going to show for now, but trust me, there much more :D. And if you're interested in reading more, please, go ahead and join the community! I made a timeline of events, at beatledirectory, though we are having some of the threads not showing up. If you have any problems with the threads, just send me and email and I will email you the thread. Hopefully we can get this worked out soon :D.

And, if you like what you read, go to beatleworldfans ahttp://www.livejournal.com/update.bml
Post an Entrynd tell us! We love reading what you have to say!. Well, we hope you enjoy :D

[This is xposted everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Sorry for the spamming]

More Beatls art

2008-07-20T03:37:48Z

These are some other things I've done, some paint some pastels. Oh and nevermind the rant, of course that means please read it if you like.

More art http://paulies-girl.livejournal.com/

Another Beatle art piece (my favorite)

2008-07-20T03:13:03Z

I hope you guys enjoy this one. It's from the Beatle Anthology book. The guys are really caught up in the shadow and you can only see patches of light on their faces. I think I brought it up a notch as far as the darkness, I may go over the dark parts more, but I like what I see right now. I've touched up the John color painting a few times since that post but this P/J picture hasn't been fooled with. I'm almost 100 % happy with it. I want to also post this on JohnheartPaul but I have to figure out how I added Beatleslash to my list so I can do the same with JHP. Sometimes the little things can be so hard, doh

Oh! Darling, John/Paul

2008-07-19T18:59:43Z

Title: Oh! Darling
Author: almofadinhas
Pairing: John/Paul
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Swearing, kissing. Unbetad.

(Oh! Darling)

November's Cold Song John/Paul Part 11

2008-07-17T16:20:32Z

Title: November's Cold Song
Author: Robin Gurl
Part: 11
Summary: Paul's body wasn't ready for the Beatle's style of dodging fangirls. If having his fever wasn't bad enough, his stomach has started to cause him problems and he keeps getting dizzy, all while running in the snow.
Warnings: very sick Paul, vomiting occurs. slight girlish Paul, I suppose.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N HOLY CRAP! :D one of the best chapters I think!!

Read me please

NOTE: The link takes you to RG's Corner where it's being stored. :)

November's Cold Song John/Paul Part 10

2008-07-17T16:19:51Z

Title: November's Cold Song
Author: Robin Gurl
Part: 10
Rating: ..maybe PG-13 cos John cusses.
Notes: This is a longin'. xD annnd part 11 will be up tonight if not part 12. (Once I run with an idea :D it's so easy to write!)
Summary: The Beatles prepare to depart for the train station and Paul's fever is back (no thanks to John of course. xD)

Read On Then!

Note: The link takes you to RobinGurl'sCorner where it is stored! ^_^

November's Cold Song John/Paul Part 9

2008-07-17T16:18:57Z

Title: November's Cold Song
Author: Robin Gurl
Part 9
Pairings: J/P R/G
Rating: PG
Notes: I had to make this one short so I could start the "traveling". :D traveling ish gunna be fun, yes?
Disclaimer: I own no one.

Read Me

The link takes you to RG's Corner where it's stored! ^_^

November's Cold Song John/Paul Part 8

2008-07-17T16:18:21Z

Title: November's Cold Song
Author: Robin Gurl
Part 8
Pairings: J/P R/G
Rating: NC-17 (sick Paulie sex xD)
Notes: This was a hot chapter. xD
Disclaimer: I own no one.

Read On!

The link takes you to RG's Corner where it's stored! ^_^

A Hard Day's Night of the Living Dead

2008-07-17T04:38:32Z

Hi. If this is too off-topic, feel free to delete it, but I wanted to post this video of A Hard Day's Night of the Living Dead. Its essientially A Hard Day's Night cut to look like a zombie horror movie:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KIWsMKZt3Eg

It also got me thinking about a possible fic challenge...what if the Beatles were in a situation similair to Night of the Living Dead? It would be a great alternate universe scenario. I've seen other slash comms attempt this challenge and it got some great results. Is anyone game?

beatlesslash @ 2008-07-16T18:04:00

2008-07-16T16:08:58Z

Hello!

I’ve decided to stop lurking around and try to be an active member of this community. My name is Sara and I’m from Sweden. I have written slash a few times before but I have never tried my hand at Beatles slash.

And now, with that said, I need to ask for some help. A few days ago I read a fic called Mentoring over at Oh, Darling! but there are only two parts posted. Since I found this fic very since I was wondering if anyone knows where I can find the rest of the fic… if more got written that is. The pairing is John/Stu and the summary is: ”John starts art school, where mentoring and ownership go hand in hand.” The rating is NC-17 and it is written by Taxie.

Beatle Shakespeare Skit

2008-07-15T23:44:01Z

Sorry if this has been posted before, but I found this skit the Beatles did that was too funny and slashy to pass up:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DOpEZM6OEvI

Fast foward to 6:00 for John as Paul's love interest.

beatlesslash @ 2008-07-15T16:31:00

2008-07-15T20:33:36Z

Ok,I was wonderin if anyone knows where I can find any George slash.
mainly george and john
is there like a community for them??
idk if there is

You May Be A Lover But You Ain't No Dancer- Part XIII

2008-07-15T19:51:15Z

You May Be A Lover But You Ain’t No Dancer

Part XIII- Losing Him and Winning Him in Ten Easy Steps

Author: demeterqueen

Pairing: John/Paul & a surprise

Words: 2932

Rating: R for language, etc.

Summary: After his death in the future, Paul is given the gift of a second chance. Will he blow this shot at love? Will the choices he makes destroy those around him?

Story Warnings: character death, timeline changes, alternate universe

Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened. We slash the ones we love.

Author’s Note: Sorry this took so long, I’m doing a lot of travelling lately. This is a slightly different format because I was sort of bored. Dedicated to my good friend, she knows who she is, for keeping me sane during the periods I cannot get to the internet. Songs used are George Harrison’s “Beware of Darkness,” Chuck Berry’s “Memphis, Tennessee,” John Lennon’s “God,” and Paul McCartney’s “Yesterday.”

Take care, beware, the thoughts that linger

Winding up inside your head

The hopelessness surrounds you

In the daily life…

Dancing down the sidewalks

As each unconscious sufferer wanders aimlessly…

“Oh. Well. Yes.”

So maybe she was sort of sitting on his lap, comfortable and cross legged, her head of wild black hair fitting surprisingly well under his chin, like she belonged. But that wasn’t his fault; he really hadn’t been paying attention, lost in the heavy, leg thumping beat of Chuck Berry’s “Memphis, Tennessee.”

Gently, he shifted the pushed the woman off of him and onto the floor, taking in the pained expression on his lover’s face. It was nothing, right?

“…We were pulled apart because her mum would not agree; help me get in touch with her in Memphis, Tennessee…”

Oh but shit, it had to be something because the bassist looked like he was about to collapse, and the adrenaline of alarm pumped through John’s veins.

“Macca?”

The sick feeling rushed through Paul all at once, heat and nausea like if he had been lanced through, reliving his accident.

That’s my husband, you bitch! his mind screamed, and the tea tray rattled ever so slightly between his livid fingertips.

“Mr. McCartney?” she said politely, patiently concerned, prim and so fucking Yoko that his mind was suddenly cloudy with a thousand fights and a thousand screams and a few choice songs.

Get a hold of yourself, McCartney, he chided. “Mrs. Cox, is it?” Paul replied, surprising himself with the even keel of his voice as he delicately sat down the tea on the only available surface, the floor. If the woman’s performance cracked for just a split second, then it was all worth it.

A flash in her eye, as if measuring him as a worthy opponent for the first time. Well, ‘Mother,’ good luck with that, he challenged, because I know all your tricks.

“Will she be staying for supper?” Tamed his face into one of polite indifference.

“Yoko’s come to discuss a documentary proposition,” John explained, nasal and half oblivious as he stood and brushed his legs off. “She wants to study our… family life.”

“The daily rituals of the modern homosexual living in the public eye,” she enthused, her voice high with excitement. “Children, press conferences, working environment, private interaction…”

He blinked, swallowed, and repressed a bitter laugh. “Couldn’t get Elton, could ya?” he said, more to himself, before remembering that Reg’s first wasn’t out until 1969.

“I’m sorry, who?”

He brought his hands together. “Never mind.” She smiled, a tiny sliver of a nod which only confused John more.

Despite the awkwardness of their initial meeting, John thought that now they were getting along quite famously. Apparently, in fact, they knew each other well, from some artsy stuff Paul had done in ‘66.

Yoko was gesturing with her fork, telling a long story about some avante-garde artist of their mutual acquaintance who jumped down a flight of stairs and broke both legs while tripping.

Paul, picking at his salad, carried the conversation with all the professionalism of his engrained public relations face. He sipped at the red wine and nodded at the appropriate places. “So Mort did nothing to stop him?”

“No, I believe he encouraged Denny to jump.”

“Brilliant fucker,” he laughed lightly, ignoring John’s frown of disapproval. Lennon hated cursing in front of women. “Finally gave Den what was coming to him, eh?”

“I could not say.”

“Wait, you didn’t know about Denny and Mort’s wife?”

As Yoko shook her head emphatically and leaned forward to receive this new bit of gossip, Paul made eye contact with John. I’m playing nice, see? he thought, sadly.

He tried, he really did. But when she sat down on the floor at John’s feet to watch them in their usual after-dinner jam session, cold sweat broke out along his hairline and in the small of his back.

“Anything particular you want to play, Paul?”

“You. Little. Shit. How dare you say that about her?!”

“I’m just saying, she can come to any damn session she wants, Lennon, but the moment she starts demanding changes on my songs, she can go to hell.”

“You go to hell, McCartney.”

“I’m just stating the facts. You have a problem with it, take it up with me later.”

“How ‘bout I take it up with yeh now, eh!”

A shove, a growl, a few choice profanities, and they were nearly to blows before George and Ringo intervened.

“Paul? Macca? Jesus, Paul, yer hand!”

“Sorry,” he exhaled, snapping back. There was something warm and wet between his fingers— his own blood, from clenching the neck of the guitar so hard. Slowly, he pried them away, hearing to the skin crackle, feeling a little dizzy as he examined the long, straight cuts. “I’m gonna… put some iodine on this and get the kids to bed.”

With his uninjured hand, he picked up a different guitar, the black one, and made to go. Yoko looked up at him with curious eyes, always watchful as she deliberate put a hand on Lennon’s shin. If I go… he wondered, and made up his mind. If I let him go… “Johnny,” he suggested softly, “why don’t you show Yoko around some of our recording equipment? I’m sure she’d be interested in some of our loops.”

The surprised, almost pained expression in John’s eyes cut through Paul’s heart like a knife. “Okay, but are yeh sure ya don’t need help?”

“I’m fine. Have fun.”

The liquid sloshing from the brown glass bottle fizzled and burned as it made contact with the sliced flesh. Paul hissed with pain as his joints turned yellow-orange, stained with the disinfectant.

“Yoko and me, that’s reality. The dream is over, what can I say? The dream is over, yesterday,” John’s voice whispered through the speaker, and McCartney knew exactly what he meant. Frustration boiled in his veins, and it was only Linda’s timely appearance that saved the turntable from annihilation.

“Oh, God, Paul, you’re not listening to that again?” she gasped as she took in her husband’s sunken appearance. “Every time you—” She stopped, deliberately snapping the knob into the ‘off’ position.

“You don’t get it, Lin,” he snarled, a wounded animal, cornered in the dark, eyeing her from the overstuffed chair. “Everything he says…”

“It’s not true.”

“No! It is true! He’s fucking right, Lin— he’s been right all along. But I still… when I hear his voice…”

“I know.”

“I’m gonna have to let him go, someday… But not today. Yesterday.”

“Daddy?” said Heather, her blonde head peeking through the door. “Are you going to come play a song?”

He smiled thinly, fumbling with a bandage. “Yeah, I’m comin’, sweetheart.”

E minor, to A7, to D minor. There was comfort in those chords, familiarity that had stood the test of time better than the man himself. It was Julian’s request, and one of his favourites, and so the quiet little boy poised himself on his blue bedspread and watched intently.

“Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away, now it looks as though they’re here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday. Suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be. There’s a shadow hanging over me. Oh, yesterday came suddenly.”

The singer hesitated for just a second, thinking he heard movement outside the door, but a hasty glance revealed nothing out of the ordinary in the darkened hallway. “Why she had to go, I don’t know, she wouldn’t say. I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday. Yesterday love was such an easy game to play. Now I need a place to hide away. Oh, I believe in yesterday.

Why she had to go, I don’t know, she wouldn’t say. I said something wrong, now I long for yesterda-a-a-ay. Yesterday love was such an easy game to play. Now I need a place to hide away. Oh, I believe in yesterday…”

“Uncle Paul?” the boy said softly, shuffling over on the bedspread. “Why are you crying?”

Paul started, brusquely chasing away the tears with his good hand. “Shit… m’sorry Jules… it’s nothing. Just missing someone, that’s all.”

“I miss my mummy.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, your mum will be here for you in the morning.”

He pulled back the linen and cranked up the ceiling fan as the warm spring air pulsed through the curtains.

“Good night, Julian.”

“Good night, Uncle Paul.” Just as McCartney turned off the light, the boy spoke again. “Uncle Paul?”

“Yeah, Jules?”

“Do you love my da?”

“Yes,” he sighed.

“Mummy loved my da, too.”

“Uh huh.”

“Is he going to leave again?”

“I can’t say, kiddo,” Paul said honestly, his throat tight. “Don’t worry about it.”

He rocked a fussy Sean to sleep in the nursery, crooning snippets of nonsense to the infant, who watched his father through suspicious, lidded eyes.

“What’s the matter, handsome?” he cooed as the baby stretched and stuck his fingers in his mouth. “What’s the matter? Sleepy yet?” The baby gurgled and sighed. “Can I tell you a story? Promise not to tell?” Sean blinked.

“Once upon a time there was a very foolish man, who sent a very crafty friend (many would call her a witch) to the house of his one true love. It turned out, when the witch and the prince met, they could play music together. The foolish man called it noise, but the witch and the prince called it art, and they called the sound “Two Virgins”. On that night, on this very night in fact, the true love abandoned the foolish man for the lady, who was the stronger. The prince and the lady moved far away to escape the sad man who tried to keep them apart, and they lived… happily ever after.”

“Knock knock,” said Jenny, crossing the threshold of the nursery, carrying Mary Beatrice. “Am I interrupting?”

“Nope. All done in here, love. Is she asleep?” he asked as he set Sean down in the crib.

“Totally out,” the nanny confirmed. After she set the twin girl down with her brother, she straightened and looked Paul in the eye. “That’s a tricky game ye’re playing, Mr. McCartney. They’re making a racket in the music room.”

“Good night, Jenny.”

She nodded, understanding she had crossed some invisible boundary.

“Paul?”

“George,” McCartney said tiredly, standing awkward outside of the guitarist’s home. “Can I stay ‘ere tonight?”

Harrison yawned a little and nodded. “Yah get into a fight with John again?”

“No, not exactly,” Paul hedged, stepping inside and following his mate into the living room. “Patti still up?”

It was a little after two a.m., so Geo answered in the negative and brought some bedclothes from the linen cupboard to make up the divan for the night. “Do yeh want to talk ‘bout it, Paul?” he inquired kindly as he piled pillows up on the sofa.

“No.”

There was a sort of invisible weight stooping the bassist’s back and shadowing his face, making him look older than his years. George of all people understood that it could be one of a hundred things over the man’s sixty years of life, but also knew that it was probably a specific somebody. He took a guess. “Yoko Ono showed up at your house tonight.”

A quiet sigh, then Paul sank down into the sheet-covered couch, gratefully leaning against his friend and confidant. “Yeah.”

“That bad, eh?”

“Yeah.”

George slid a sympathetic arm around Paul’s shoulder. “Are you sure?”

“She’s his fuckin’ soulmate, Georgie. I never could compete.”

Hari pressed his lips to Paul’s temple, brushing the dark hair back into place. “It’s gonna be okay, love. As far as I can make sense of yer past life… ye’ve a much stronger hold on him now. JohnandPaul, yeah? Together forever, right? And no jap bird is gonna tear that apart.”

“She did once before,” McCartney replied miserably. That old feeling of sinking into a pit, trapped with no one to save him, came rushing back. He wanted a scotch, maybe the whole bottle.

“Paul.” Thin, strong arms pulled him back together. “Stop wallowing in fookin’ self-pity.”

“Fuck you,” Paul growled, shoving Harrison away.

The guitarist grinned. “That’s the spirit. Yoko’s got nothing on you. Yer too damn pretty.”

“I’ll stick to my original statement: fuck you, Georgie,” said the bassist, but his handsome eyes were laughing. George shoved him, and he shoved back, feeling so much better.

Then all of a sudden Harrison was on top of him, and Paul was painfully aware of the close proximity of George’s mouth. Eyes searching, serious, looking for permission. Paul would never be sure exactly what Hari saw, but it was enough.

The softly whispered “No” went unheeded between them as their lips met, hesitantly. It was strange but not unfamiliar to kiss George Harrison, to part his mouth and explore the surprising sweetness of another. He reached up to curl his fingers in George’s hair, to seek out the spark and the heat and the friction he so desperately wanted.

Heart hammering, he realized he had been holding his breath, and pulled away for air. George instantly moved away. “God, Paul,” he babbled, “that was so— I mean, I’m sorry but you were— and I was— and I shouldn’t have but I—”

“Hey,” said Paul, feeling a little more in control. “It’s okay, luv. It’s no big deal.”

He didn’t see Harrison’s expression, didn’t know that it was a big deal. Didn’t know that it really mattered. Didn’t know that George had ended things with Ritchie over this exact situation.

This bird was fun. She really was— as clever and cynical as in her letters, and with great tits, too. Just a little bit crazy, too, and best of all she didn’t give a shit about Beatles music. Sure, she knew of most of their songs, but she wasn’t some big fan or anything.

The best part about Yoko Ono, as far as John could tell, is that she had the makings of being a really great mate. A muse, even. Her musical ideas were totally off the wall, totally what Lennon had been looking for. Okay, so she couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but she was all worked up about changing the world through art.

It was just that Paul, God love him, was so damn serious about their music. All. The. Time. He was so fucking focused on getting the finished product perfect, he missed the message and the meaning behind the song. And he always had to do it his fucking way. Always.

And here came this chick, out to change the world and make peace a reality, and Paul couldn’t even stick around to hear what she had to say.

Speaking of which… where was Paul?

“Excuse me, luv,” John apologized as he untangled himself from the woman and stood up. “I ‘ave to go find me sod of a husband. Feel free to poke around in the stuff, now that I’ve shown you what’s what.”

“Thank you, John,” she said warmly, and he marvelled at the way her voice sent tingles up his spine.

He walked up the stairs to the master bedroom. “Maaaacccaaa!” he warbled tenderly as he entered the pitch black room. “You asleep, love?” He made his way in the dark, stepping over a pile of dirty laundry and a set of discarded bongo drums. The giant bed was unmade… and empty.

10.

At dawn, John Lennon sat alone in the parlour, a squat bottle of amber liquid (Glen Ord Single Malt, aged 12 years, out of Muir of Ord, Ross-shire) perched on his lap.

The prudent Ms. Ono had shown herself the door the moment Lennon had reached for the booze.

“’Ello, John,” Paul breathed as he saw the light on in the front most room. He was just a touch unsteady on his feet, George’s beer in his bloodstream and caresses still lingering on his skin. “’Ave a good time with ole Yoko?”

“Where did you come from?” John snarled, whipping his head around to meet Paul’s wavering expression.

“Good old Georgie Porgie’s. Bran’ new case o’ cold onesss to share wif me and ever’thin’.” He leaned against the doorframe for support. “What a bloke, what a mate!”

“Yer pissed, son.”

“Good. Hurts less. I’ll jussst be gettin’ me thingsss and I’ll be out of your way.”

“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Paul considered. “I’m not so much very sssure, actually. Thought you wanted me out.”

“Yah didn’t drive like that, didja?”

“No… Patti was ‘sleep so we called Ringo. Good, sweet old Ringo.” He smiled sleepily and patted the wall as one might pat a shoulder.

John frowned. A slightly drunk Paul was charming and animated— the life of the party. A very drunk Paul was just plain bitchy. But this was a sloppy, drunk-drunk— an act the bassist used to cover up the fact that he was extremely upset over something. Changing his tactics, he cautiously approached. “What’s the matter, Macca? Is it Yoko?” Seeing Paul flinch, he was sure he had found the crux of it. “You don’t like her, do you?”

Paul worried his bottom lip. “No. I really don’t.”

Lennon… laughed. “Had I known yeh were gonna get so worked up about it, I woulda… Though in my defence, you were the one who invited her to stay all night. I woulda sent her home hours ago.”

“Oh.” Well. Shit.

“Come to bed, love.”

November's Cold Song John/Paul Part 7

2008-07-13T22:36:32Z

Title: November's Cold Song
Author: Robin Gurl
Part: 7
Disclaimer: Own no one
A/N: this is my first attempt EVER at Ringo/George so..ehm..yeh just a warning. O_o; lol. I feel weird about this but I know I want it to happen..just tell me how I did. I betcha can't tell who my normal couple is...MAWAHAHA. XD

Part 7

It had taken George and Ringo nearly an hour to get both of their friend’s back to the hotel room. Paul had been slightly easier than John. Though he’d been “awake” he’d not been exactly coherent, it’d been easier in helping Paul walk back to the room after explaining to him that John was going to be ok. However, Ringo had planned this entire charade out and had told George to get John back first or their plan was going to back fire miserably if John wasn’t in the room when Paul returned.

John on the other hand, while agreeing with Ringo’s plan had no intention of using anyone for support when he walked back. He very verbally shouted every step down the long hallway, “I don’t need any fucking help, you sod! Let me walk on my own!” George was under strict instructions however to keep hold of John’s arm whether or not he threatened bodily harm until their band “leader” was safely in bed.

After George got John in the bed, he ran down the hallway and helped Ringo with Paul. Their bassist stood with little balance and wound up putting almost all of his weight on Ringo. “Sorry, Ring.”

“Is alright, lad. Just take it slow if you need to.” Ringo glanced over to George who looked quite terrified at the state Paul was in. “John’s waiting on you, right George?”

George looked up startled and nodded, “Yeh, he’s asking where you are, Paulie.”

Both watched as a small smile appeared on their friend’s pale lips. When the three of them got back to the room, Paul stood at the doorway looking around for his lover. At seeing nothing through his blurred vision he looked towards Ringo, his bottom lip very obviously quivering. “Where is he then?”

Horrified at what exactly was going through Paul’s mind at the moment, George reached over and squeezed Paul’s hand. “Come on Paulie, he’s in here.”

Relucantly the other man followed George into one of the bedrooms. Once inside Paul reconized the person inside the bed, with a hoarse cry of joy he carefully climbed into the bed and snuggled close. “Ah, Paulie? Where did you run off to? You’re sick, son. Need to stay in bed.” John’s words calmed Paul’s shaking down to nearly nothing as he wrapped an arm around Paul’s waist.

“But Ringo- he wouldn’t help- and the girls they wouldn’t either-“ Paul kept stammering. “Had to do something.”

“Shh, close yer eyes.” A finger was put to Paul’s lips and wide brown eyes stared at the leader of the band. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave your side until your well, alright?”

George stood in the doorway watching the two of them feeling jealous, he had to leave before he actually acted on his jealously. Then his mind went back to what he’d done with Ringo while they were looking for Paul. Why had he grabbed Ringo's hand? And why had he liked it?
Walking back into the community room, he saw Ringo sitting on the edge of the couch wringing his hands, “What are you on about then?” George asked sitting next to him.

“You saw the state Paul was in. Is John going to get that worse as well? I’m worried they need more care than what we can give them.”

“Ringies, you’ve got to stop worrying! You’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

The two men stared at each other and Ringo let out a tiny smile patting George’s knee. “You’re right as always. Alright, lad, want a cup of tea?”

George reached up and grabbed Ringo’s hand pulling him back down. “Do you love me?”

“Well I …I mean…”

“It’s alright if you don’t. I just need to know.”

“Why?”

“Because…I think I love you..” George looked away blushing bright red at what he’d relayed and hoped Ringo would just laugh it off. “I mean, I know this is tense time and stuff because of Johnny and Paulie, but, I do…”

A smile crossed the older man’s facial features as he sat back into the cushions. He crossed his legs and sat silently for a moment trying to think of what to say. “George, it’s alright.”

“But I don’t know if it is…” George replied stupidly wishing he hadn’t just said that.

“With all of the queer stuff going on in the hotel room, I think you’re justified.”

“But what if I change my mind…I don’t want you to be hurt…”

“What if I don’t care?” The youngest lifted his head staring wide eyed at their drummer. “What if I just want to try it out and see if it feels right? Isn’t that what you’re after anyway?”

“Yes but..”

“No, just let us try it out.”

“I don’t..want to go far, right now.” George added quickly standing up uneasily.

“We won’t go anywhere unless you want to.”

“You sound like you’ve done this before.”

Ringo stood laughing, “Maybe I have. You’ll just have to wait and find out, won’t you?” He started to walk towards the mini kitchen George just staring at him. “Come ‘ead then, lad. That tea is calling us.”

November's Cold Song John/Paul Part 6

2008-07-13T15:54:21Z

Title: November's Cold Song
Author: Robin Gurl
Part: 6
Summary: Paul somehow escaped and he's running to get help.
A/N: ...meh. I'm so sleepy. xD but I wanted you guys to get an update. I think this chappy is ok, it'll prolly look pathetic tomorrow, but I'm running on 3 hours of sleep and a full day of strenuous exercise (not that it wasn't fun. xD). Anywho, a longer chapter will be typed up tomorrow.
Disclaimer: I own nothing..wow. Not even the original plot. xD LOL!!! I mean of him having the flu. LOL.

Oh and a little shout out to the sweetest member of John/Paul: Bubblegum Paul! ^_^ I love you sweetie! I missed you last night. I wanted to read your stories and journal and had no internet.

Part 6

A/N Ty for all the reviews, once again. And I apologize for not getting this chapter out sooner. xD Check my main journal around…hmm maybe tomorrow night to be safe to find out why I was out of internet range last night and all day today.

Anywho, after many speculations, I’ve decided to take some peoples “suggestions” if you can even call it that and make Paul’s disappearance a little more eventful. LOL. I haven’t written this crazy since I was in high school…>_>; so without further ado – MY WEIRD BEATLE WRITING BELOW!! Mawhahaha!

*~*

Somewhere deep in his mind he knew this was wrong and that he needed to go back to where he came from, yet Paul didn’t care. If Ringo wasn’t going to listen, someone else was. Now who exactly that someone else was going to be, the young Beatle didn’t know. This was a large hotel someone must know something about being sick.

However, much to Paul’s annoyance no one seemed to be out in the hallways and he was getting weak again. For the third time in the last 20 minutes Paul fell to his knees and leaned against the wall breathing hard. “Someone, please….help..”

*~*

“What do you mean he’s fucking gone?” John exclaimed before doubling over coughing. “I swear, I’ll cripple ya if he’s hurt!”

George appeared in the doorway still in his pajamas rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Ringo, fucking let Paulie run away.” At the sound of John’s voice, George woke up almost immediatley and stared wide eyed. “Yes, son, I’m sick. Don’t get close or you’ll get it to.”

“Ringo did you really let Paul run off?”

“Come off it. How could I have? He collapsed as soon as he told me John was sick and I laid him on the couch then I came in to check on John when I left, Paul was gone.”

“Well he couldn’t have gone far,” The youngest offered shrugging his shoulders. “Let’s go look in the hallways.”

John grumbled and got out of his covers and put his slippers and robe on. “Let’s go before the bloke hurts himself. He’s in no condition to be out of bed.”

“Like you are, John?” John only grunted and pushed past Ringo heading for the door. Ringo leaned against the door way looking quite upset.

“Aw don’t take him seriously, he’s ill to ya know.” George put in slowly. He wasn’t used to seeing Ringo so upset before and didn’t like it.

“I let Paulie go didn’t I?”

“No. Sounds like he just jumped up and left.” The youngest Beatle sighed and pulled on his own outer robe. “Ringo, it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known Paulie’d run away like this.”

Ringo glanced up when he felt George’s hand on his own. Both stared at one another and were about to say something when they heard a group of female screams. Together they ran down the hallway hoping everything was alright.

*~*

“Paul, you bastard, where are you?” John shouted as loud as his hoarse throat would let him. His eyes burned and he wanted to lie down, but he just couldn’t until he knew Paul was safe. He got this fucking illness by taking care of Paul and wasn’t going to let it stop him from doing his job now.

“Oh my goodness! It’s Paul McCartney!” A girlish voice broke through John’s cursing and made him look up. For once he was glad the girls knew how to find them.

Down the hallway Paul had been ambushed by two fangirls, both very beautiful and young. Any other day and he’d been sending the McCartney charm just to watch them squirm, giggle and blush. Right now however, he was more concerned on getting help. “Excuse me, girls.”

“Paul…?” The other one asked carefully when she saw he was wavering. Suddenly he fell into her arms unable to stand any longer. Unable to hold him up she slid to her knees tears streaming down her cheeks. “Oh God. Paul!”

“Mary, what do we do?” Her friend was close to hysterics as well.

“I..I don’t know, Jenny. What if he’s dying!”

Paul felt the darkness calling him and he felt the need to apologize to the girls, after all they were crying for some reason. He hadn’t meant to fall into her either. “S..Sorry, girl..girls.” Then he fell over unconsicous.

John knew he was getting close when he heard sobbing he just hoped he wasn’t to late to stop whatever was going on. “Girls, what’s wron- Paul!”

The blonde looked up tears falling and she was having problems breathing. Paul’s head was still on her lap and she looked faint. “John, it’s Paul, he’s…he’s sick.”

“I know,” John was surprised at himself. He was usually harsh with the girls, not in a mean way but in his own way. He knelt down and put a hand to his bandmate’s forehead. “I’m sorry he scared you two. He’s been a little delirious.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Jenny touched John’s arm, this time John could tell it wasn’t an “excited grab” this was a gentle scared tap. He could feel her hand shaking. “What’s wrong with him?”

He sighed and patted it carefully. “He’ll be fine. Just got a touch of the flu is all. Now can you be good girls and keep this a secret?” Both nodded and watched as John made a half attempt (well he fooled them) at being well. He leaned forward and moved Paul’s head off the girl, Mary’s lap, then took off his robe and used it for a pillow. “Good, I’m sorry again you had to see this.” He stood up first then helped them stand, Mary was a little weak on her feet and fainted in her friend’s arms. “Take her to the front office, I’ll phone and let them know to expect you.”

Jenny nodded wiping her own tears away. “Thank you and John,” He looked up. “Take care of him and of yourself. You look quite pale.” For a second afterwards she seemed to remember she was talking to her favorite Beatle and a red tint colored her cheeks. “Um..bye.” With that she dragged her friend down into the elevator leaving John with an unconscious Paul and no way to get him back to the room.

His friend’s fever was still raging, as was his own. John heaved leaning against the wall trying to breathe, then he doubled over coughing. “Paul was right,” He thought. “This is just horrible.” Just as he thought he heard footsteps his fatigue took over and he slumped over asleep with Paul still laid out in front of him.

November's Cold Song John/Paul Part 5

2008-07-13T15:52:31Z

Title: November's Cold Song
Author: Robin Gurl
Part: 5
Warnings: Paul 'cuteness', "dramatic writing" and hurt/comfort
Rating: ..PG/PG-13 (john kinda looses it in this chappy for a bit)
Summary: Mark another Beatle off the list. That's all I'm going to say.
Disclaimer: I own no one!

Part 5
A/N Thank you all for the nice generous comments! ^_^ Makes me want to write more. Torturing Paul McCartney is one of my better unseen talents…(how akward of a thing to brag about O_o) at least I thought so anyway and with the comments well I’m smiling from ear to ear and eager to write more.

Also, even after Paulie gets back (in the next…oh say…10 chapters :P) to feeling ok, he’ll still be extremely weak and get fatigued easily! :D so don’t worry this fic won’t end for awhile…I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing…*ponders*

And I’m throwing this out for my reviewers: If there is any ANY scene that you would like to see written out while Paul is sick please put it in a comment. Reminder that this is the stomach flu, just keep that in mind when “requesting” and remember to have fun….LOL.

Now on with the story! :D lolz

**

Ringo was the first to awaken the next morning, he sat up slowly rubbing sleep from his eyes then looked to his side to see George still fast asleep.

“It’s so silly, Ringo, but I’ve had such nice dreams up until now. Of Paulie and I. Together, I mean. I told him in my dreams and he only pulled me close to him and kissed me. You know I’ve never been kissed before?”

“Geo, you’ve been kissed by so many girls, what do you mean?”

“When you don’t like girls it doesn’t count. I want a real first kiss, Ringo. Like the ones in the movies.” He flicked his ciggie out onto the pavement and stepped on it. “But true love only happens in the films, right?”

“True love would happen right here if you’d just open your eyes.” Ringo sighed and got up then walked over and made sure the blinds were closed then tucked the covers around the youngest Beatle before leaving the room.

Usually John would already be awake sitting on one of the chairs and reading the news paper with a cup of coffee by his side, this time the community room was empty. There wasn’t even coffee brewing and it was at least 9 am.

The emptiness was almost eerie. The drummer went to the tiny kitchen and turned on the light then started the kettle to make coffee. Should he go check on John and Paul?

He leaned against the counter for a minute trying to decide what would be the best action. John usually got upset when Ringo put his ‘large hooter’ where it didn’t belong. But this wasn’t like any other day so John couldn’t get mad with him. Paul McCartney was very ill and needed constant care. One person couldn’t do it alone.

He finally made up his mind to go check on Paul when he heard hoarse coughing. “Awww Paulie.” Ringo said aloud. “What a way to wake up.”

Just as he was stepping into the room another form slammed into him head on. The two figures collapsed to the ground with Ringo on the bottom. The figure on top was shaking and shivering. “Paulie?”

“J..John..he’s…” Paul had to turn away to cough. He tried to get up but his arms buckled and more than once he fell back on Ringo knocking the older man’s wind out each time.

“Paulie, calm down.” Ringo finally exclaimed stopping his friend from seriously injuring himself. But Paul shook his head then figured that hadn’t been the best of ideas. “Ok then, lad tell me what’s going on before you send yourself into shock.”

“It’s John.” Paul tried again. “He’s got a fever.” After saying what he needed he found his strength was gone. Annoyed that he couldn’t do anything and that he was to weak to stay awake he found the darkness calling him again. “Ri…Ring…”

Ringo sighed and let Paul slide down uncosncious in his arms. “You got to stop working yourself up, lad…” Carefully the drummer stood up Paul’s weight all on him. “God, you weigh a ton, mate!” He groaned and finally got Paul on the couch.

Huffing he wiped his hands on his pants then pulled the throw cover over the bassist. He stood there for a minute making sure Paul wasn’t going to wake up then left to go check on John.

John Lennon being sick wasn’t what anyone wanted. He was a pain in the arse well, how would he be sick? Ringo sighed and took a breathe before walking into the now deemed “sick room”. “John?” He called out carefully. “You alright, love?”

“Ge’way Ring…”

The other smirked rolling his eyes. “I’ll go if you don’t need any help.”

“Oi. Get back in ‘ere.” John’s normally ‘heavy’ accent was even heavier and it made him hard to understand.

“I haven’t gone anywhere.” Ringo slowly walked in and sat on the opposite bed that hadn’t been used last night.

“God, I fucking feel like shit!” Ringo winced at each word that came out of John’s mouth. Geez, he was worse at cursing than when he was well, and that was saying something. “How does Paulie do it?”

“I figure this must be why he’s sleeping most of the time.”

“Sorry for yelling…” John spoke calmly again. His hands appeared from under the covers and he rubbed his eyes pressing his palms against them sighing. “I..I’m worried about Paul. Where is he by the way?”

“In the main room.” Ringo stood and placed a hand on John’s forehead. “You got it. By the way you gave Paulie quite the fright when you started coughing. It’s a good thing I was up or there was no telling where I would have found him.”

“I didn’t mean to, hell I don’t even remember it. Go take care of him, Ringo. I’m not that bad off yet.” John turned his head to Ringo, his eyes were pleading.

“What do I tell him if he asks about you then?”

But it was to late, John was fast asleep. Ringo was muttering to himself as he walked back into the main room. “What the….Paulie?”

Paul was gone…?

Betas

2008-07-08T22:15:10Z

Well, since all the Nazi grammer Bitches decided to gange up on me I've decided to edit my previouse post.

Hey,
If anyone needs someone to edit their stories I'd be happy to do it.
So just e-mail me, my e-mail is revolution7899@yahoo.com.
luv,
Nickie

Ok, now is everyone happy?