Isn't it a pity?

Ello

2008-07-15T20:54:22Z

Hi!!
My name is Nickiee
im like addicted to slash
specialy george/john sash
hehehe
ill try to post
but im rather new to writing slash
:]

story time!

2008-06-23T01:27:39Z

Author LJ Name: goodbye2pisces
Title of story: I Don't Want To Talk About It
Rating of story: PG
Word count of story: Under 1000
Brief summary: Patti's left and George is bummed
Notes: This little drabble is in answer to a writing prompt posted by 749_penny_lane. Whatever happened to those anyway? As to the story itself. It starts off all thoughtful, but quickly dissolves into goofiness as I can never seem to sustain real deep thoughts for very long. Anyroad, I hope you like it :)

I Don't Want To Talk About It

George lay on his back staring forlornly at the ceiling. He couldn’t say how long he’d been lying on top of the bed covers with his hands laced behind his head. His eyes burned from lack of sleep but refused to close just as his brain refused to let go of the images that kept replaying inside his head from the morning before.

She hadn’t cried as she’d gathered her things from the closet, folding them neatly into her suitcase. George had watched her in silence from the bed, feeling guilty about what he’d done through the years, the flippant remarks that he regretted making now and the affairs that had brought them to this point.

He used to chide her for being so thin-skinned, for not being able to take a joke and for not understanding that they were just girls, they didn’t mean anything to him. But the truth was he was looking for something, a connection to another human being that Patti just couldn’t give him. He wanted a child, though he wished for her sake that he didn’t.

Even so, he’d touched her arm just as she’d been about to leave and asked her to stay. He could try harder, get past it. It didn’t matter he’d said, thinking that if he spoke it aloud enough times it might eventually be true, she was all he cared about. But she just shook her head sadly. It was much too late for that now, and then she was gone.

The telephone on the night table abruptly began to ring. George ignored it, continuing to stare at the ceiling, but it was too insistent to block out for long. He turned his head to stare balefully at it, but that didn’t discourage it from ringing.

Finally he snatched the receiver from the cradle and snapped “I don’t want to talk about it!”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” John’s voice.

“I do, and I don’t want to talk about it” George repeated.

“Yes you do,” John wheedled.

“I really don’t.”

“So she’s gone then” John said, ignoring him.

George sighed, resigned. “She’s gone,” he said.

“She would have stayed if you’d asked her to you know.”

“No she wouldn’t.”

“You’ll never know for sure though will you,” John said.

“I…” George began, but for some reason couldn’t bring himself to admit that he’d tried to convince her to stay “It isn’t as if you can wipe out years of unhappiness in a single night you know” he said instead.

“It might be fun to try though” John said wolfishly.

George made a face. “I’m hanging up now,” he said.

“You should come out for a visit”.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it,” George insisted. “And anyway I’ve only just got back. I’m not flying all the way out there again just to come see you. You’re not that compelling frankly.”

“That’s not what you used to say.”

“Why is it always me,” George asked sharply.

“Eh?”

“You heard me. Why is it always me that has to come running whenever you snap your fingers? You could come here for once you know.”

“I can’t,” John said.

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

“Not really, no.”

“Because if I leave now they’ll never let me back in, that’s why not,” John said sourly.

“Oh that.”

“D’ya mean, oh that? No one’s trying to throw you out of an entire bloody country are they?”

“Paul thinks you should get a boat,” George said mildly.

“Eh?”

“To live on, you know. As long as you’re anchored off international waters they can’t touch you.”

“Right and I suppose I’ll just live off whatever scraps the seagulls happen to drop as they fly by shall I?” John said sarcastically.

“I never said it was a particularly well thought out plan.”

“Leave it to Paul to come up with it,” John muttered. “And since when have you been talking to Paul anyway?”

“Only since I was twelve,” George said dryly.

“You know what I mean,” John said. “You’ll talk to Paul about it, but you won’t talk to me.”

“I haven’t been talking to Paul about anything,” George said.

“Besides me.”

“Yes besides you” George said flatly, “the ego that ate Gibraltar.”

“It isn’t funny you know. They’re following me.”

“Who is?”

“The FBI.”

“The FBI,” George said sceptically.

“Yes.”

“The FBI is following you.”

“YES,” John insisted.

George considered that for a moment. “Well” he said, “Revolution #9 was pretty bad.”

“Hilarious,” John grumbled.

“No really, high time the public was protected from the musicians and the artists,” George went on cheerfully.

“Piss off.”

“Whatever you do don’t go near your guitar” George said grinning now, “they’re liable to shoot you on sight.”

“Are you quite finished?”

“John Lennon Public enemy number 9.”

“I’ve never liked you, you know,” John muttered.

“That’s not what you used to say” George said mildly.

“I was young and naïve back then. Now I know better.”

“You could have rung Paul you know,” George said feigning indignance.

“What so he can tell me about his brilliant plan to turn me into Nixon’s mistress? I don’t think so,” John said sourly.

“I doubt he’d make you go that far,” George said “Nixon’s valet maybe.”

“This conversation’s gotten away from us,” John said thoughtfully.

“Don’t they always?”

“True, but we were supposed to be talking about you.”

”Were we?” George asked.

“Don’t give me that,” John said and George could hear the frown in his voice, “you know why I called.”

“Yes, and I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine then,” John said resigned. “Admit it though” he continued after a moment, “you feel better now don’t you.”

George smiled. “I’m hanging up now” he said simply and returned the phone receiver to its cradle.

~END~

lennonharrison @ 2008-06-17T20:39:00

2008-06-18T00:46:04Z

Any one have msn? I would like to meet new people... and write j/g fics with them.. Please dont ignore...

I can't really write slash on my own... it is soooo hard for me.... but easier with someone else...

my msn is angel-rock-star@live.ca

I heard from a friend that you are all nice :) but i bet everyone on here is

Fic: Three Hours

2008-06-17T22:00:30Z

Pairing: John Lennon/George Harrison
Author Name/Pen Name: Harisia
Author LJ Name: Harisia
Title of story: Three Hours
Rating of story: R for language and sex
Word count of story: 1039
Chapter: 1 of 1
Brief summary: "She has great tits, doesn't she? Kisses like a champ, too." You offer this opinion between hits, as if recommending a new wine. "It's not just me she's interested in, either."

I spring forward, a hand around your throat.

Fic: Let What Will Be, Be

2008-05-14T00:28:58Z

Pairing(s) in the story: John/George
Author Name/Pen Name: Harisia
Author LJ Name: Harisia
Title of story: Let What Will Be, Be
Rating of story: T (minor suggestive adult themes)
Word count of story: 503
Chapter: 1 of 1
Brief summary: "He smiled slightly, the tickly sensation against his lips enticing them to part in anticipation just as the scratchiness ended with a soft exhalation against his mouth."
Notes: With many thanks to applebonker19 and 749_penny_lane for their help and encouragement.

John burrowed deeper under the covers, relishing the warmth and comfort.

lennonharrison @ 2008-04-04T22:17:00

2008-04-05T02:17:42Z

Pairing(s) in the story: John Lennon/George Harrison
Author Name/Pen Name: Lye
Author LJ Name: lye
Title of story: Busy Hands
Rating of story: PG 13ish right now.
Word count of story: 2,900ish
Chapter 1 of (2, possibly 3)
Brief summary: George is agonizing about his reaction to John and his busy hands.
Notes: Trying my hand at a multi-chaptered fic. About half way through this I realized that all the pretty little things I was seeing in my mind wouldn’t fit in just one fic, so I’ll just spread it out a little, I think. Trying for more of a George point of view this time around, though for the next part I may switch to John. Opinions?

Thanks so much to those who commented and let me know what they thought of the last fic!

Busy Hands, part one

In The Philippines (George/John)

2008-03-16T06:15:28Z

Pairing(s) in the story: George Harrison/John Lennon
Author Name/Pen Name: Lye
Author LJ Name: lye
Title of story: In The Philippines
Rating of story: R?
Word count of story: 4,000 (I know, I know).
Chapter 1 of 1
Brief summary: The boys have a hell of a time in the Philippines.
Notes: Back with another effort. This one got long, but I'm hoping its interesting! Really, I just needed to put off homework for an hour. I would like to dedicate this to the anonymous reader of my first fic, as well as vanilla_sky320, revolution789, 749_penny_lane, beagle_agent and gereiheimer for their kind words.

George licked his lips and John felt a shiver of arousal run through him, followed by a shiver of panic. Was George going to kiss him? Was he going to let George kiss him?

lennonharrison @ 2008-03-10T22:04:00

2008-03-11T02:04:25Z

Pairing(s) in the story: George Harrison/John Lennon
Author Name/Pen Name: Lye
Author LJ Name: lye
Title of story: Cold Feet
Rating of story: I would say R, maybe.
Word count of story: 1,500ish
Chapter 1 of 1
Brief summary: Waking up is hard to do.
Notes: This is my first ever fanfiction, so here’s hoping you will be kind. I'm clearly not a writer, but this seems like a fun kind of procrastination. Feedback would be much appreciated. It is unbeated.

Without further ado..

FIC: Late Night

2008-03-03T21:41:48Z

Hi, I'm vanilla_sky320, and an avid Beatles fan. So, this is my second Beatles post ever, and in the last week, and I'm trying to keep track of communities so I can share these with you. I'd like to share my philosophy on this fandom, which is that they all shared their love with each other, but I have a hard time writing with multiple characters. Too much going on then. The other two will most likely be off somewhere, or like here, they will be sleeping. Odd, I know, and I'm sorry. Well, enjoy the show!

Title: Late Night
Author: vanilla_sky320
Pairing: John/George, but hints at foursome
Rating: PG
Warnings: none really
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Summary: George suffers from insomnia, but he's not the only one, it seems.

(Read more...)

lennonharrison @ 2008-02-29T16:25:00

2008-03-01T00:45:48Z

Title: Falsch, aber Recht
Rating: R?
Author's Name: Eva
Author's Username: QuiteSlytherin

Rough, yet gentle. Coarse, yet smooth. Full of lust, yet full of love.

This is what making love with him is like.

Even as he makes his customary remarks about my performance, even as he shuns me and regards me as someone of lower rank in front of the other lads, I know it is not true.

No, you see, because at night, there is no one there; there is only us.

Him, I, and the bedroom. That is all that there is at night. Long into the late hour, just him and I.

Him, and our whispers of forever. I, and our vows of love. Us, and our plain need of each other.

We both have birds waiting for us... and with each other, neither of us seem to care. '

After all, I had him. Sure, I shared him, but in the end, he was mine.

How was I to know it was not to last?

Best of Youtube

2008-02-25T14:58:40Z

I made a best of slash and Beatles on Youtube for the commutiny Beatleslash ^^
There is some John/George, have a look!

http://community.livejournal.com/beatlesslash/688116.html#cutid1

podcast

2008-02-24T09:15:47Z

I have procured a microphone, and the software is on the way. The slashy beatles podcast has (almost) become a reality! Visit me at beatlescast, and give me your suggestions. Episode one will consist of me babbling an introduction, and reading a fic to get things started. The fic I read is the first one I get in the mail-this time only. In the future, I'll choose fic based on theme and quality. Right now I need something good and fun to test the waters with. Preferably nothing too sexually explicit or gratuitous. Let's save the porn for later, no matter how much fun it is. If you want your fic read for episode one, you can find my e-mail address at my personal userinfo page, or on Beatlecast's userinfo page.

lennonharrison @ 2008-02-20T16:26:00

2008-02-20T21:35:31Z

Title: Love Me Tender
Rating: NC-17 for sexual content and language
Pairing: chapter one P/G moves on to J/G
Author/Pen name: angel_rock_star
Disclaimer: I don't know own the beatles, but doesn't mean i don't love them. This isn't really to me a disclaimer but this never happened, which i am happy to say.
Summary: George Meets John, first doesn't like George next thing he knew John loved him. Set in 1958.
Feedback: yes i would love it

Feburary 6 1958 10:05 am

It was Insane

"George! Fucking get up yer lazy arse!" his brother shoved him hard. George opened his eyes slightly,

"Wot ye want Pete?" he asked. Pete rolled his eyes and pulled George out of the bed, "Ow! Ye fucking twit!"

"Then get out of the bed and ye wouldn't get hurt." he said gruffly, "It is time for bloody school." he said and left the room slamming the door behind him. George got himself up from the dirty floor, he wiped himself and his boxers off from the dust and dirt. I went to his window which was facing the front of the house, he looked down at the street and watched the boys and girls walk by. He went back inside and grabbed his clothes and put them on. He opened the door of his room and walked downstairs. He was greeted by his mother with a hug,

"Hey, don't forget brekky, Georgie." she said and tried to kiss his forehead. Which George pulled himself away from. She shrugged it up and him a plate of eggs and bacon.

"Ta, mam." George said and grabbed his lunch.

"See ye after school, Georgie." she said sweetly, "'ave a good day."

George nodded and headed out the door and walked towards the bus stop. He lived four blocks from the bus stop, so it took him ten to fifteen minutes. George thought to himself, *I wonder if Paul is going to be at school today?* He reached the bus stop, when he got there the bus pulled up to pick all the students up. George got on the bus and looked over at Paul who was sitting alone. Paul then looked up at George and waved him over to sit with him.

"So how did ye get woken up today, mate?" Paul asked ammused. He knew that George always got woken up weird,

"By a shove then getting pulled of the fucking bed." George said to him. Paul started to laugh, but stopped quickly to see that he wasn't laughing,

"It ain't funny, it hurt like 'ell." he said hubbing his back, "'Ow would ye like it if someone did that to ye?"

"Not to much." Paul said uncomfortably, "Hey, want to go to a bar and watch this band called the Quarrymen? They are really good and I am friends with the leader." Paul said in a smile, "I am invited to join the band as well."

"Well best to ye!" George said happily, "That sounds like fun, got get me looking older to get in y'know."

"And I know how to do it, but that means we 'ave to skip our classes today." Paul said sneered. George nodded and gave a lopsided smile. Finally they reached the school, but instead of going into the school they waited until the bus driver left, since it was George's dad. Once he did they started walking down the street, "Come in 'ere." Paul pointed to a building, "Going to get ye pictures as if ye were older. I know this guy, he will do anything for money."

"Gear." George smirked. They both walked into the building and there was the clerk at the front desk,

"'Ey Mac! We need pictures!" Paul yelled to him. Mac looked up and smiled,

"Me best customer, who is it for?" he asked.

"Me mate, George." Paul replied, "Need to get into a bar and he is too young."

"All right, for a hundred pounds and it is a deal." Mac said with a evil smile. Paul handed him the right amount and they took George into the back. Paul waited out in the main part of the building looking at all the cameras and merchandise.

"So wot ye going to do?" George asked nervously.

"First ye 'ave to switch into something older than wot ye are wearing." Mac said looking down at George's clothes. He went to a closest and grabbed leather pants, a black sweater, leather jacket and leather boots, "'Ere ye go, no washroom or anything so get dressed quickly."

"Can ye turn around?" George asked uncomfortable with the idea of having Mac looking at his body. Mac nodded and turned around while George got changed. George took his shirt off and put on the black sweater, then took his trousers off and put the leather ones on. He put the jacket on and then finally the boots, "Ye can look now."

Mac turned around and smiled, "Gear, now the hair is all wrong." he said and took George's arm and took him to the shower head and washed his hair and after that, cut his hair to make him look like a 'Teddy Boy'. When it was all finished George looked much older than fourteen, maybe around seventeen. They walked out into the store area, Paul looked up and smiled,

"Ta, Mac!" Paul yelled cheerfully and took George out of the building. George then saw his mother and hid in an alley, and Paul did the same, "Shite that was fucking bloody close." Paul said. He looked at George and smiled,

"Wot?" George asked with a slight redness in his cheek.

"Y'know ye look really sexy right now, that is all."

"Uh..." George said speechlessly,

"With the sun hitting the right side of yer face and the shade over on the left side, so beautiful."

"Uh, seriously this is creeping me out, Pau-" he was cut off with Paul's lips slapping slopply on his mouth. Paul then pushed George up to the brick wall, which made George hurt real bad, he had his hands pinned up with Paul's hands holding them tightly. George felt squished with Paul's weight on him. Finally Paul broke the kiss,

"Let's find a better spot for this, like a hotel room?" Paul said evily.

"Uh, Paul, can we just go back to school?" George asked nervously. Paul shook his head,

"Come let's 'ave some fun today." Paul sneered as he grabbed George's wrist and took him down the street. Finally they reached a hotel that Paul wanted to go in. He checked them in for the day. Paul dragged George into the elevator and pushed the button to get to level three. Next thing George knew was that he was dragged into one of the rooms, he couldn't see which one because he was getting dragged in to quickly to see the small numbers on the door. Paul pushed George onto the bed and locked the door. George was too afraid what was happening to him. Paul came over to the bed and got on top of George, he took hold of his hands and pinned them down and wrapped his legs around George's. He bent down and kissed him passionately, George tried to wriggle free but Paul had a good grip on him. Paul finally broke the kiss and started slipping the jacket and black shirt off George, who was scared out of his wits. He was thinking to himself, *I am not fucking gay! What is going on here?* Paul was watching George carefully, and smiled evily, "Ye going to have the time of yer life." He started unbuttoning his trousers and slid them off carefully. Then he slid his fingers under George's boxers and slid them down real slowly. George looked up at Paul and realized he was drunk as anyone can be. Next thing he knew was Paul was in around him, sucking and licking. George knew he didn't want it, but the same time he did. He was confused with feelings. Finally Paul finished and fell asleep on him. George felt uncomfortable with it, but the same time happy.

Hey, baby!

2008-02-15T05:34:00Z

Happy Valentines day everyone! This is my first post here, since I just now discovered my love for J/G. Since it's only 11:31 here, I still have time to squeeze in a V-day gift for you all! It's a Beatle cartoon Valentine, since my other Beatletoon art got good feedback on other comms.

Sweet, amirite? I made on for each Beatles slash comm, alive or otherwise. That's right, Even appleandmantras

The other two I made can be seen at appleandmantras, johnheartpaul, or beatlesslash

I can't wait to post more to this comm.

"Love You To"

2008-02-13T22:35:57Z

TITLE: Love You To (Response to Writing Prompt #3 on lennonharrison)

PAIRING: George/John

RATING: PG (sorry, nothing explicit here)

DISCLAIMER: This is fiction. None of this really happened.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deviation from historical facts:

Fact: John was angry about George neglecting to mention him as a formative song-writing influence in his life when writing the book, I, Me, Mine. It’s been reported that George and John were out of touch for the second half of the 70’s—perhaps since ’74? That George called John in the last months of his life and asked him to call him back (“we haven’t spoken in about 10 years”). Supposedly, John was angry about the book and dismissive of George and refused to return the call.

Fiction: This story presupposes anger on John’s part about George’s book but with a slightly different cause. And he does make that anger known directly.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Love You To” was one of the first tunes I wrote for sitar. Norwegian Wood was an accident as far as the sitar part was concerned but this was the first song where I consciously tried to use the sitar and tabla on the basic track. I over-dubbed the guitars and vocal later.” - I, Me, Mine by George Harrison (1980)

There was a long pause as the transatlantic call went through. John paced furiously from one end of the pristine white carpet to the other, hissing “fucking wanker” under his breath in an unholy chant.

“Hello,” a woman’s voice, pleasant and warm, answered on the third ring. Must be Olivia, damn it all.

“This is John. Is he there?”

“John?”

“Is he fucking there?”

Whispering voices as the phone was put down. “I don’t know,” her voice sounded faintly in the background as she spoke to someone out of earshot. “Says it’s John?”

“Hello?” a severe challenging tone.

“You fucking wanker! That’s all you have to say about it? It was one of the first tunes I wrote for fucking sitar? That’s it?”

“Lenny? What are you ranting about without so much as a hello? It’s been, what, ten years?”

“Ten years? Exaggerate a little, shall we? But you do recognize my voice. That’s encouraging. Because reading your book I was sure you’d forgotten my existence. Not a damn word about me in here, is there?”

“I’m sorry, John, the book wasn’t supposed to be about you. If it had been, you’d ‘uv probably sued me. Isn’t that what we former Beatles do, sue each other?”

“’Love You To’ has no significance beyond the sitar, is that it?”

A long sigh. “What would you have liked me to write, John? ‘I wrote “Love You To” one lazy afternoon to capture the blissful experience of tripping and singing and making love with John Lennon.’ Would that have suited you?”

“Considering the drivel you did put in this piece of shit book, it would have been an improvement.”

“What’s the problem, Lenny? Annoyed you’re not the only one who can get away with publishing stream-of-consciousness bullshit because you were a Beatle? If you recall, we all had a hand in your literary efforts, not that you were ever big on sharing the credit.”

“Nice one, George. Acid-tongued as ever. Very god-conscious of you, I must say. Not to mention selfless and humble and self-effacing.”

“What do you want from me, John? We both know how ‘Love You To’ came to be written. It’s a fond memory. One that can’t be repeated. You saw to that. Sadly.”

Silence.

A softer tone… “Lenny?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you, too.”

George waited, imagining John’s face, his anger masking hurt feelings. John’s fears -- of being abandoned, forgotten, passed over -- were well-known. Squirreled away in the Dakota for five years, pretending to be a househusband content with domesticity had probably only fed those fears. How to reassure him?

“’The Answer’s at the End.’” George offered in a quiet voice.

“What?” John sounded puzzled.

“The song, ‘The Answer’s At the End.’ I wrote that one for you. Seems apropos at the moment to mention it. The lyrics are there in the book, although I’ll warn you now that I didn’t say it was written for you in my notes on the song. But in case there’s ever been any doubt in your mind. Also, my philosophy in writing the book -- what to put in and what to leave out -- is in the backword. Read the backword, John.”

George heard a woman’s voice in the background, muffled as if someone had put their hand over the phone. He waited as he heard an insistent exchange between a man and a woman. “John?” he prompted

“Gotta go. I’ll call you.” The line went dead.

George looked at the receiver before quietly putting it to rest in the cradle. He looked around. He was alone. Olivia had left the room when he’d taken the call. He sighed sadly, thinking once again of the words he’d written for John a few years before, after a similar call.

He picked up his guitar and began to strum.

Scan not a friend with a microscopic glass

You know his faults, now let the foibles pass

Life is one long enigma, my friend

So read on, read on, the answer's at the end


Don't be so hard on the ones that you love

It's the ones that you love we think so little of

Don't be so hard on the ones that you need

It's the ones that you need we think so little of

Ooh, we think so little of the ones that we love; sometimes

and Isn't it a pity how we hurt

The ones that we love the most of all

The ones we shouldn't hurt at all

John felt the tears welling up as he read the words, so typical of George.

You know my faults, now let the foibles pass

'Cause life is one long enigma, my friend

Live on, live on, the answer's at the end.

Turning to the end notes, he read:.

“Tell not all that you know because he who tells all that he knows, often tells more than he knows: a constant thought during the editing process.” John bit his tongue, remembering all the times he’d said more than he should in interviews and conversations and songs meant to hurt. He approached the turntable and carefully placed the needle on the track as he sat down on the floor to look at the pictures in George’s book.

Stu, Mal, Brian, Pete Ham, all dead now. Amazing when you think about it how many of their friends were gone. “Love me while you can before I’m a dead old man. A life-time is so short, a new one can’t be bought.” Damn depressing that, George and his obsession with death.

He closed the book and stretched out on the floor, letting the song wash over him: “Make love all day long, Make love singing songs…” George had laughed about writing a love song for John; John had teased that it was just a love song to the sitar.

“I’ll make love to you if you want me to.” Tripping with George -- at Kinfauns or Kenwood or in Rishikesh. Tripping and singing and making love. Looking back, it seemed like paradise. But it hadn’t been enough then. He’d wanted more after the Maharishi – more excitement, more stimulation, an end to everything old. And that had led to Yoko. And his obsession with Yoko had put an end to everything with George. And led him to this rather isolated life at the Dakota, a place from which he continually shouted out his satisfaction with the conditions of his life to the world at large, keeping everyone at bay.

But all that was about to change. “Starting Over” was his new song and his new mantra. Recording the new album was a new start. He closed his eyes, his thoughts wandering as he listened to George’s guitar work on “She Said.” “I know what it’s like to be dead.” He snorted, remembering the horse’s ass who had prompted that song. They should have thanked him for the inspiration; but inspiration never seemed to be in short supply in those days.

His assistant stuck his head in the door, reminding him of an appointment. Reluctantly, John rose and stretched, casting off the memories and the lassitude of the afternoon. He would call George again soon. It would be a friendlier call. There would be plenty of time at the end of the year, once the album was released.

Writing Prompt #3: Love You To

2008-01-28T05:18:15Z

Those amazingly suggestive lyrics: "Make love all day long. / Make love singing songs" just beg for a nice slashy G/J fic, don't you think?
Hope to see some inventive responses to this one, whatever length seems appropriate.

lennonharrison @ 2008-01-24T19:35:00

2008-01-24T23:28:32Z

Just playing about with photos and adding text. Does what it says on the tin, it's a link to the gj_archive. We've been working hard and have got tonnes of fics linked now. There's still more to do, but there's loads to look through. Feel free to check it out if you haven't already.

Prompt #1 - Pirates!

2008-01-23T23:23:34Z

Title: I'll Run It Up Your Mast!
Pairing: Long John Lennon/Pirate Bob
Words: 860 (It's a babble - not that I'm hearing any complaints)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Do you think John Lennon and George Harrison were really swashbuckling pirates? No? Well, that's all right then.

From my dark corner in the hold I could see little of the rest of the ship. In fact at this moment I could see nothing, because I had my eyes closed as I counted down the approaching footsteps. I knew exactly how many more it would take him to reach me. This one had been down many times over the week I'd been hiding here. I thought little of it until the time when he paused next to my hiding place. He didn't do anything but, for days now, I'd been finding food and water conveniently dropped within grabbing distance of my hiding place. I had my suspicions that he knew exactly where I was, and that he was even trying to help me.

I had studied at his shoes carefully. They were fancy. You know, buckles and everything, unlike the crew's, which were generally falling apart if they were there at all. They all had feet, though. I hadn't seen a single peg leg go past. For a while I thought I had but then I realised it was just someone sitting in front on a chair. Now that was disappointing.

Being the owner of such fine shoes probably meant this man was infamous captain's son, who I'd heard the crew speaking about unfavourably. After a few seconds he went back to his business but, now he was back, I was sure I'd been caught. My spot was built from several crates with a large sheet spread across them. The man with the smart shoes pulled it back with all the flourish and grace of a drunken bull fighter.

"Ah ha! What do we have here? A stowaway?" He wagged a finger at me, not sounding entirely serious. The man looked younger than I'd expected. In fact he couldn't be that much older than me. "Oh dear, Mother will be cross. She doesn't like stowaways. Do you know what she did to the last one?"

I shook my head. In a low whisper, he told me, “Let’s just say he’s still feeding the dog.”

I swallowed.

He chuckled wickedly. Then he squinted at me. "How old are you?"

"Sixteen," I lied without hesitation. This was the third ship I'd stowed away on, so I'd had plenty of practice. I'd been sixteen for two years now. By now I nearly was sixteen, even if I still didn't look it. "Please don't throw me off, sir."

"We could find a place for you, maybe," he said with a smirk. "You might even get to be me own personal cabin boy. I could show you the ropes, I suppose."

“Can I have a sword?” I asked, practically bouncing up and down at such an exciting prospect.

"You've got a lot to learn, lad, and I'm not just talking swordplay." He cocked his head to one side and looked at me thoughtfully. "Or maybe I am, just not always in the literal sense, if you catch me drift."

I didn't. Not that I admitted it, of course.

"What's your name, lad?" He extended a hand to help me out of my dark hole and up into the dazzling sunlight that was warming the decks and glinting off the azure sea.

Men shouted to each other from various levels. Up above us the mast flapped in the wind and below us water lapped against the bowels of the ship. Combined, the sounds were almost deafening. My accomplice had to hold me steady to stop me pitching to-and-fro. When I opened my mouth in awe, I noticed the air had a salty tang to it. I didn't answer his question at first. I was too busy taking it all in.

"Eh, I asked for yer name, ye know."

"George."

"That's boring. You need a real pirate name."

"Like what?"

He shrugged his silk-jacket shoulders. "I don't know, 'Pirate Bob' or something."

"Pirate Bob?" I asked, torn between being amused and appalled at the silliness of the name.

The young pirate laughed. "Serves you right for asking me then, doesn't it?"

"I bet yours is just as stupid."

"Just call me Long John Lennon. Or 'Sir', that was good while it lasted."

Looking around, 'Long John Lennon' spotted two wooden swords that had been left lying around. He threw one to me and I caught it, adopting a fighting stance as easily as if I'd been born into it. Long John gave me a nod of approval. Then he ran off, shouting at me to follow.

"Where are we going?"

"I promised to show you the ropes, didn't I? Everyone knows the best ropes are up there." He pointed towards the mast with his sword.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" I asked, a delighted laugh rising in my throat.

"I don't know." He jabbed me hard in the back which such force I was lucky his sword was blunt and he was very lucky mine was too, or he’d soon have been on the business end of it. He gave me a mock bow, doffing an imaginary cap and tweaking an imaginary feather as he placed it back on his head. "After you, Bob."

----

PS. - sorry that a potentially very slashy title ended up being literal. Then again, there's no rule against a second part...

Writing Prompt #2: That Boy

2008-01-23T18:26:12Z

No one seemed moved to respond to this writing prompt, so before posting another, I felt a sense of obligation to provide an answer to it myself. Just a harmless fluffy drabble...

Writing Prompt: That Boy
Author: 749_Penny_Lane
Word Count: 99
Disclaimer: Purely fiction. I don't own the Beatles, etc.

I wait as the engineers work their magic, my fingers softly finding a melody as I stare at John.

But he doesn’t notice. John’s gaze never wanders as he listens to the strange chord progression George plays. He brushes the hair out of George’s eyes affectionately, seemingly transfixed by George’s talk of ragas. As John reaches out to touch his fingers tentatively, George flashes a smile that makes my heart ache to see it.

“This boy wants you back again,” Ringo sings, supplying the words to the song I’d thoughtlessly begun. “That’s an old tune, Paul.” Silently, I agree.

First post here!

2008-01-18T00:44:17Z

Hello! This is my first post here, so be merciful. Constructive criticism is more than welcome, though. :-)

Pairing: John and George.
Author Name/Pen Name: Sofia.
Author LJ Name: applebonker19.
Title of story: The Sun is the Same (In A Relative Way)
Rating of story: PG-13 for swearing.
Word count: 852
Brief summary: "Maybe he wanted to watch the sunrise with me as badly as I wanted to watch it with him. If that were the case, he'd certainly never admitted it--but then again, neither had I."
Author's Notes: Bit of a sad 'un, so get out the hankies if you happen to be easily upset. Also, whoever can guess the reference in the title gets a cookie. No, /SEVERAL/ cookies.

I don't know why John agreed to get up at the ungodly hour of 5:37am. He'd grumbled about it a bit when I'd attempted to persuade him earlier, but somehow I felt like his protests (which were rather half-arsed, if we're being honest) were just for show. But maybe that was just my imagination. Or maybe he wanted to watch the sunrise with me as badly as I wanted to watch it with him. If that were the case, he'd certainly never admitted it--but then again, neither had I.

So, there we were. Sitting on a small, sparsely vegetated hill, staring down into the vast valley below as the glow of the rising sun turned the Ganges orange. The call of a peacock occasionally penetrated the quiet around us, but apart from that it was silent. But not the kind of awkward silence that befalls two people who've nothing to say to each other. It was the kind of comfortable silence that close friends often find themselves in. The kind of silence that comes only from knowing a person so well that conversation simply isn't necessary. I rather liked it, but after a long moment I felt the need to tell him something.

"I like it here," I said. My voice was hoarse from early morning cigarettes and lack of sleep.

John nodded and brought his knees to his chest, not bothering to look at me as he spoke. "Aye. India. Bound to be a nice little place, innit?"

"No," I said quietly, continuing to stare straight ahead at the valley, "I mean /here/. On this hill, with you." I furrowed my brow slightly, wondering to myself why I suddenly had the balls to say something so heartfelt to somebody I tended to emotionally censor myself around.

There was a long pause. Too long. "Fuck," I thought, "I shouldn't have said that. Probably thinks I'm a bloody poof now, no doubt. Christ, why do I even--"

My merciless inner monologue was suddenly interrupted (thankfully) by a soft reply. "I like it here too, George."

I turned and looked at him. He'd said it so damn quietly that I almost wasn't sure he'd even said it at /all/. But then he looked back at me, and he smiled. It was remarkably subtle, but it was definitely a smile, and that was all I needed to make everything alright in my world.

I smiled back and turned again to face the sun, which was now halfway visible from behind the mountains. But I could still feel John's eyes on me.

After a moment, I could see him moving out of the corner of my eye, casually repositioning himself so he sat closer to me. Now he was grinning. I started to grin, too. This only made him grin wider.

"What're you smiling at, Georgie-porgie?"

I grinned moreso. I loved when he called me that. "Nothing," I said. I looked at him once more, my grin fading and giving way to an affectionate smile. "Just...you."

He chuckled and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him in a gentle squeeze. Normally this would strike me as bizarre. But everything felt different in Rishikesh, and at that moment, being close to John felt perfectly natural.

We stayed like that for a minute or two before I tentatively rested my head against his shoulder. I swallowed quietly, carefully listening for any sign of a negative reaction. That was what I'd been preparing myself for this entire time. John was, after all, the sort of person who could easily stop on a dime and completely change directions when he lost interest in something. Imagine my relief (and yet, at the same time, surprise) when I felt him rest his chin on top of my head. I gave the softest of sighs and closed my eyes, smiling just barely as I subconsciously curled closer to the warm body beside me. He brought his other arm up, gently wrapping it around my waist so he could hold me tighter.

I couldn't say how long we stayed like that. It could have been 20 minutes, it could have been 5 hours, it could have been eternity for all I cared. Time isn't relevant when you're happily surrounded by the things you love most.

"George?" John said at one point.

"Hmm?"

"Let's do this /every/ morning," he said softly, "for the rest of our lives."

I smiled and nodded. "Yeah," I mumbled, voice slightly muffled as I buried half of my face in his chest. "Rest of our lives."

I wish I'd known back then that time was, indeed, relevant.

Writing Prompt #2: That Boy

2008-01-11T16:46:23Z

That boy took my love away
he'll regret it someday
but this boy wants you back again.
That boy isn't good for you,
tho' he may want you too,
this boy wants you back again.

A jumping off place for any number of possibilities. Drabble, fabble, babble away, my dears!

Writing Prompt #1: Here There Be Pyrates!

2008-01-04T19:44:52Z

Well, first of all, it's definitely a babble...not a drabble...at over 500 words. And since it's the banter that's made it so long, I guess that's the right name for it. Hope you find it worth the added reading time.

Title: Jolly Me Roger
Pairing: George and John, of course
Words: 630
Rating: Slash lite, I'm afraid.
Disclaimer: It's an AU so it clearly never happened in this space-time continuum. And, hopefully, the lads' iconic status will protect me from any legal objections to this silly little pirate fic.
A little light-hearted pirate fun. I like to imagine them as pirates in leather pants and shirts dripping with lace but I've kept the wardrobe directions to a minimum...

“Cuttin’ it rather close, wouldn’ ya say?” John spat between his teeth as George cut the rope that bound his hands behind his back. It had been a difficult ride, tossed over the horse in front of George, hands still tied behind his back at a gallop fast enough to throw off their pursuers. It was a wonder the rescue hadn’t killed him!

George eyed him with a sidelong glance, “Must ya always be so bitchy, Johnny?”

John chafed his wrists under the dirty lace sleeves that covered most of his long slender fingers. “It’s the first time I’ve ever been thankful for the long-winded airs of that fop, the Governor. Or been so glad of a priest intent on saving my soul.” George snorted. “I’ll tell ya, George, if those blokes hadna’ been so in love with hearin’ themselves talk, ya’d have found me swingin’ from the gibbet by the time ya finally made your entrance.”

George shook his head in disgust as they ran to the rowboats that would carry them to the ship, moored off the rocky coast. He knew better than to interrupt John in the middle of a rant. Clearly nerves had gotten the better of his mate. And it had been close, George had to admit. They’d already got the noose around John’s neck by the time his party of rescuers had launched their distraction and made their move.

“So what was it? Some wench get ya between her thighs first thing this mornin’, eh? Or some innocent cabin boy ya found time to pluck on your way over? I know ya, son, and your ‘just-got-time-for-a-quickie- and-I’ll-be-on-my-way’ habits.”

George silently rowed, biting his tongue as John continued his sniping. For Chris’sakes, his nerves had taken a beating as well. He, too, had feared they’d be too late, though it wouldn’t do to admit as much. “You’re makin’ me sorry I rescued ya, wanker! Shoulda’ left you there for some more reliable mate to find, seein’ as ya don't think I'm up for the job. Call Paulie next time, he’s your man!”

John rowed with a vengeance. “Pretty Paulie’s not much of a hand at swordplay – of either variety, if you catch my meanin.’” The leer spread across his lips said it all. He leaned closer as he rowed, looking into George’s face as he lowered his voice slightly, “I’d just appreciate it if you’d try to be on time now and then…if it’s not askin’ too much.”

“If ya must know, Ritchie had a little difficulty getting’ the explosives to work. Wet gunpowder almost did ya in. Just be thankful you’re still alive and stop your damn complainin’.’”

They’d made it to the ship and climbed up the ropes to the deck. As the ship rolled, they stood, hands on hips, surveying each other with appraising eyes.

“When you’ve Jollied me Roger a few times, maybe I’ll stop complainin’,’” John smirked, before sticking his tongue out and pulling a face.

George’s steady gaze betrayed nothing. “Put yer tongue away, it looks disgustin hangin’ out, all pink and naked.”

“That’s not what you said the last time.” They made their way to Johnny’s cabin where he passed George a bottle of rum.

“You’re a swine, Lennon,” George snickered as he took a swig.

“So, you’ve said. More than once. Now are you goin’ to let me thank ya proper-like for savin’ me skin ‘n all?” John inquired, hands reaching for the stiffening prick straining against George’s tight britches.

George chuckled. “If it won't interfere with the basic rugged concept of me personality.”

“No more than usual,” John reassured him, his fingers moving to free George from the constricting cloth.

‘That’s all right then,” George affirmed, sighing with pleasure. “In fact, I’d be quite prepared for that eventuality.”

Prompt #1

2008-01-03T18:42:59Z

Title: The sea whispers gently.

Author: Fab4fic_lover

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 983
Pairing: John/George (duh) and well... a slight bit of John/Paul (can't help it, sorry!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the Beatles and I never will (sadly enough). This fic is, alike the name already says, purely fiction and I don’t claim for this to have ever happened for real.

A/N: Be kind, it’s the first George/John fic I’ve written in quite some time ;) It’s not quite a … drabble/fabble/babble anymore, just because it wasn’t enough for me to write and explain the whole ‘story’ :) (although I do suspect that the people on here don’t really mind). I hope you’ll like it, comments and criticisms appreciated.

‘’Ay!’’ John shouted as he almost fell from the ropes. George looked up from cleaning the deck; their captain had given him strict orders to do so.

George had gotten onto the ship by telling the captain (no one quite knew his name, so most of the crewmembers called him ‘Ringo’ if he was nowhere near, mainly because of the many earrings he wore in his ears) that he was a hard worker.

The reason why he had joined the pirates was mainly the adventure, the clothes, the women he hoped to get, because pirates were so tough and he had heard the women in the city he came from whisper that they found pirates so attractive.

Not that it had turned out quite that way though.

He had spent the first days on the ship on the deck because of the simple reason that he kept getting seasick. One of the pirates that had been working on the ship for a longer period of time, John, had often joined him. While George had just been stood there (and got sick every now and then), John would stare at the sea ahead of them, and muse about the tragic life of the pirates. How most of them had been abused when they were little, how they had to miss their families and how he once lost a couple of his best mates when they were fighting with an unknown ship. Other days he would tell him the famous stories, complete with acting how the great pirate leaders had been fighting, or sailed over the roughest seas. Later George would tell John stories too, about his life and the area he had lived, the reason why he had decided to become a pirate (although he didn‘t really think he deserved that title).

In a couple of weeks’ time, they had grown fond of each other, and they would continue to see each other at night. One of those nights, when they had been staring at the stars mindlessly for quite some time, John had suddenly let out a deep sigh. George had looked in his direction, to find John look at him, his cheeks slightly flushed. Then John had quickly kissed him, and walked away to the rear of the deck, leaving George behind - confused and upset.

In the days that followed, George didn’t go to the deck at night anymore to see John. He knew the more experienced pirate - was he experienced when it came to love like this too? - was waiting there for him, leaning with his head back against the rail and staring up at the stars. Perhaps he knew that George was trying to avoid him anyway.

Eventually, after hours of musing about what this could possibly mean, George decided to give up on his rational thoughts and finally listen to his heart. It was most likely to be one of the most painful things he had ever done, because he found that he longed to be with John, he was starting to miss the nights with him, and the stories they shared. Maybe he missed the part at which they just sat next to each other in silence even more than the stories.

The following night, George had gone up to the deck again and John had - indeed - been sat there. He smiled as he’d seen George walk up to him, lacing their fingers together as the younger man sat down next to him. They had kissed again, and then John had shown George what the words ‘loving’ and ‘making love’ meant.

George smiled as he thought about that night again, forgetting to clean the deck for a mere second before he felt a sharp pain in his side - it was the stick made of wood with a steel end that the captain used to punish his crew with. He stood next to him; his blue eyes were friendly but the tone of his voice harsh.

‘’Keep on working, mate!’’ George cringed, and then continued to work. Tonight, he thought, tonight he would be with John again and they would share their bodies with each other. The captain could be a bastard (or at least sometimes), but he wouldn’t ever be able to take John away from him.

Then the pirate next to him poked in his side.

‘’’Ello,’’ he whispered. ‘’Keep on working, but I have to tell you something’’. His brown eyes were scanning the deck for possible bystanders that could hear them. When the coast was clear, he said: ‘’I have seen you sneak away at night. I know you’re visiting John…’’ George’s eyes grew wide at hearing that, and he felt himself blush. ‘’I don’t mind, really…’’ the big brown eyes stared at him intensely, ‘’but you should know that you’re not the first one falling for John like this.’’ He could hear the sadness in the man’s voice, and knew that he was speaking from his own experience. ‘’Either way,’’ the eyes were starting to wander towards the sea, ‘’you better not hurt him. He feels more for you than for any other man, I think. He really cares about you, what is your name?’’

‘’George.’’

‘’He really cares about you, George. He loves you.’’

‘’Uh, I’m not too sure what I’ve to say about that…?’’

‘’Paul.’’

‘’Paul. Thank you. I won’t hurt him.’’ Paul nodded, then smiled at him briefly and then continued to scrub the wood of the deck.

When he later on asked John about it, John just shrugged and told him that it was ‘part of the past’. Then he pressed George’s body against his, and kissed him with in the background the full moon shining it’s pale yellow light, the sea whispering softly and almost too quiet to hear the two men admitted quietly to each other that they really loved each other.

Drabble Prompt #1: Here There Be Pyrates!

2008-01-03T15:00:34Z

Is writing more Beatles fanfics one of your New Year's resolutions? Here's the place.

In the interests of promoting more and better slashy George/John fics, our mod has approved my posting regular drabble prompts here in this community. The more players the better. Hope you like our first prompt:

Here There Be Pyrates!

Apparently, George indulged in a little AU thinking about the Beatles, too:

“[It] was all just part of the teddy boy in us, the teddy-boy theme of ‘We’ll show them.’ We thought…that was what it was all about – I think we would have been pirates in a different life.”

- George, Anthology, p. 270

Give us your drabble (100 words), fabble (250 words) or babble (500 words or even more if you must) with our boys indulging in a little piratical behavior.

[I'm not big on rules; anyone can post to this prompt anytime--no deadline--and as many times as they like. But if you're inspired, it would be great to hear from you in the next week. If there's enough interest, I'd be happy to post some fun prompts on a more-or-less weekly basis.]

Anyone in favor of regular drabble prompts for this community?

2008-01-03T05:18:01Z

I adore slashy J/G fics (or G/J as I prefer to think of them) and I'm saddened by how few writers are still actively writing this pairing in the Beatles community compared to a few years ago. This community is the obvious place to promote more such fics, so I'm wondering if anyone (including georgeh, our illustrious mod) would object to someone regularly posting drabble prompts here. The goal would be to induce more stories and encourage more frequent and livelier exchanges among writers. I'm willing to post the prompts if our mod agrees.

I've tried to contact georgeh through LJ messaging and through e-mail but haven't heard back. Is anyone in touch with him? Know how to reach him? Don't want to overstep but I am very interested in pursuing this. Your thoughts? Interested?