#George Harrison x OC

[iiiiiiits-m]

how badly would y’all judge me if I wrote a Beatles x OC fanfic where my OC was the 5th Beatle (and gets with either John or George I can’t decide)

[strawb3rri-le]

I need someone to indulge in a george harrison x oc writing/roleplaying session with me. long paragraphs and plot discussions just solely to have fun and be creative🫶

[ringstarrr]

If I Needed Someone

summary: Elena is a Brazilian journalist on vacation in London, and happens to find someone very special during this trip that changes her life.

pairing: george harrison x !female oc

warnings: mentions of disaperances, military dictatorship, angst

author's note: i know i said i'd posting this in january, but life is a bitch. like i said before in that post, here is the long fic i'm currently working on. it starts in 1967. it takes a long time to write this one so hold on. hope you like it :)

1.

It was her first time aboard; she went to London to pursue the dream of knowing the ever so beautiful place with her own darkish eyes. Most of the things Elena liked came from England, so it was no surprise where the Brazilian girl would choose to go once her now ex-boyfriend came up with the idea of visiting another country. They have long broken up, finding the man with one of other female reporters in a bar around the corner of the magazine they worked at in São Paulo. At least the girl was only a freelancer, never seeing the woman again, and Elena thought she wouldn’t recognize her at first glance — and the element she once called a boyfriend took more work out of town since then, only coming to the office once to tell Elena he had canceled his ticket.

"I won’t disturb your trip, even if it was meant to be ours. Sorry I ruined everything". How sweet, she smiled.

Elena worked at Realidade, living the raw and chaotic lifestyle of the city’s downtown area. The office was in between two avenues, João Adolfo and Álvaro de Carvalho, a few meters from the famous Nove de Julho avenue. Realidade occupied the twelfth floor of the triangle-shaped building, and the woman loved it. The magazine was ahead of its time in its themes and how to board those, having a monthly publishing gave the reporters just enough time to research and interview how many people needed to write an interesting article for the next issue. It was definitely a fun job.

Elena covered politics, though; it wasn’t nice, but it wasn't as bad as she and everyone in her life circle thought it would be. The country has been under a military dictatorship for three years, when she was just a student coming from the countryside. Elena was 22 and she remembers everything, either she likes it or not. If not for her, probably her family wouldn’t have ever known how things were going on in the big major cities, believing the propaganda around a communist threat and moral panic. She prevented them from knowing full details, not only because they were gruesome, disheartening and shocking, but Elena feared someone might be listening, moreover, who.

The girl knew a bunch of people that went missing in the blink of an eye. It was her last year in college, and all she could remember was her colleagues and friends just stopping from coming to class altogether, raising an unspoken concern around campus, to then the course’s administration being obliged to take a leave of absence for almost a third of the enrolled class. It was extremely hard, much for not knowing when, how, where or who to talk about the subject without tracing unwanted attention. The smallest of the missteps was enough to end it all. The safest place was her bathroom, crying under the shower in complete distress, and sometimes some places in her dorm, where she’d meet others involved with unions and UNE — the Students National Union — in the early hours of the morning every once in a while. The dark haired one also left that part out when talking to her parents once she went to visit them later that same year. Elena not only had friends in the movement, she was in it as well.

It was a tough experience in every single way she could think of. She came to understand that some of her friends were exiled willingly, some not, and a few were declared dead. And there were the ones which nobody had a clue about. Every hint the movement got led nowhere or, more often than not, to traps by the military. They started ignoring those clues after a while to avoid any more casualties, and it simply made her numb for a long time. One of the students missing was a close friend, Lídia, and what might be happening to the young lady took nights away from Elena.

Lídia was a tall blonde with a beauty mark on the center of her forehead, always carrying a big brown leather purse that used to get twisted in her long hair. She was friends with Elena since their first day at college, clicking like they were childhood sweethearts. Elena knew her family, and sometimes the image of her parents would pop into her nightmares. Lídia went missing right before graduation. The last time they spoke was that same day, and she was heading to Elena’s dorm to help her pack to move to a new and small apartment near Lídia’s house, around Mooca.

When the blond didn’t show, Elena called her friend’s family. In the new space, sitting on one of the boxes lying in the living room, she curled the yellow phone’s cord anxiously. It was late in the evening and Lídia’s parents were elders, but that didn’t matter at that moment.

"Sorry to call this late, Ms", she announced at the sound of Lídia’s mother's voice. "Have you heard from Lídia? She was supposed to come here earlier…"

Elena trailed off, hearing the complete silence fill the call. The duration of it and strength of the woman slowly taking in a breath stayed with her. And the trembling of her voice.

"She never arrived at the dorm, Elena?" The young one bit her cheek, holding back the anxiety growing stronger. She managed to whisper a “no”. "That can’t be true…"

Not anymore.

Elena cried herself to sleep that night and a bunch of others after. She still visits their house, only not as much. Both parts were scared of raising unrequited stares by being seen together. Yet, they lived close. Elena often saw the elderly woman on the street, clearly taken over by the situation. She was thinner, her skin deep and her eyes small. Having to deal with this in silence drove Elena mad, reconsidering the movement and her involvement with it. Is this really worth it? All this suffering? It was something she thought a lot about. But since she didn’t get involved much already, just going to meetings and delivering letters from exiled revolutionaires to their families and friends, Elena decided to stay.

She panicked when one of her friends tried to teach her how to shoot a gun in early 1966. It was dangerous to do that just by themselves, without the movement’s help, especially in a residential building on Vila Mariana, an area the military used to patrol quite often due to the movie theaters with mostly foreign movies — they thought the students were dumb enough to schedule a meeting during or after a Godard film was shown. The experience brought Elena a new feeling of dread and anxiety she longed to never feel again. The friend, which was actually a casual fling restricted to secluded places — it was a girl — left and never came back, but only after calling Elena a coward. It was the first week at her new apartment, quite a homecoming. She had left Mooca after just five months, the possibility of meeting Lídia’s parents anytime she left the house cursed her — Elena knew they didn’t blame her for the missing of their daughter, but she couldn’t help but think how the military caught the girl when she was going to her place.

The fling was a girl named Julia. They met through a movement’s meeting. She didn’t live in town, staying for a mission she refused to tell Elena anything about. But the girl had a gun in her backpack and that raised unanswered questions. It was the first time Elena got involved with a girl and it was actually nice for some time. Julia would come by her apartment unannounced quite often. Initially just to chat and give back one of Elena’s records she borrowed. On one of those occasions, the long and curly haired brunette made a comment on Maria Bethania’s appearance after returning the singer’s debut LP, exclaiming how attractive she thought the baiana was. This led to a subtle talk on women’s traits, what each of them liked most — Julia was just naming Elena’s physical traits and it didn’t go unnoticed. They ended up in bed, showering each other in caresses and kisses. It happened a few times, enough for Elena to consider asking the girl what she wanted to label them, even if just for themselves.

This whole conversation was supposed to take place that night, but Julia was more interested in trying to convince Elena to learn how to shoot the gun. What started as a joke soon turned into a fight. It all happened fast. She arrived, kissed Elena and dropped the backpack by the front door, and began bickering about how much of a pussy Elena was for not knowing how to protect herself. The girl tried to brush it off, but then realized Julia wasn’t kidding, she actually meant it. Julia tried to force Elena into holding the weapon and that was it for her — she shoved Julia away harshly, eyes wide.

"Oh, so it’s gonna be like this?" Julia ironized and pushed Elena even harder, the woman landing on the ground. Julia snickered and grabbed her things, going to the door. "You are and will always be a fucking coward." With that, she slammed the door and the two never met again.

Either way, covering politics as a journalist was difficult, and it could go way worse depending on how attentive and paranoid you were. She was on vacation, so nothing to worry about, at least not for now.

Elena was having the best time and, for her, the trip could last forever. She was hanging around town like a complete tourist and outsider — which she was — and simultaneously feeling what belonging must be like. Being from a small city, one of those where everyone knows each other and people talk about others constantly because, well, there isn’t much else to do there, she’d never experienced that. Not in her hometown nor on the college campus. Nevertheless, strangely, she’d swear it was as if the place was made for her, laughing a bit at her selfishness.

She did not feel the need to look up a map after leaving the hotel, however like said before, Elena was at home. She had landed in Europe a few days before, looking around like a lunatic and making friends with an old lady on the same floor of the place she was staying. They went around the town together, the madam making sure to show the young girl some of her favorite spots across town. It was fun, the elderly woman reminded Elena of her grandmother, Italian and not so subtle about expressing herself. She liked the company and was actually considering Isabella a friend and knew it was mutual, exchanging penpal information so they’d send letters and postcards back and forth.

Isabella was in the same situation as Elena, kind of. Her husband died before their trip, but she didn’t think it was a drag or anything like it. The woman was very much at peace with that. She didn’t give Elena a whole lot of detail, but the girl wasn’t stupid. He died of natural causes in his sleep. That Isabella didn’t enjoy. She told her the late man was a farabutto of the highest caliber for most of their marriage and wasn’t much around. Elena knew a lot of Italian men and how bad they could be, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and considering the amount of anger Isabella had when speaking of him, she didn’t question the happiness the madam felt being free again.

Walking and driving around Europe with an outspoken Italian lady was not in her plans, being shy herself. The job made her go out of her shell whenever needed, so it was quite easy to learn how to deal with being constantly spoken to at high volumes and enemy-of-timidness-and-shame-ways most days. Their generational difference didn’t interfere — Isabella had other interests for when Elena was in a mood for something “hip”. Nevertheless, their strange and unique ways brought them together in the first place.

Elena was not able to leave the building as fast as she meant, the short old woman bombarded her with a bunch of questions drawn from her pure hectic mind.

"How do I look, mia cara?" Elena chuckled at how they developed so fast a type of grandmother and granddaughter dynamic.

"Good as always, love."

"Do I look pretty?" She pressed, doing circles in the new acquisition Isabella bought earlier in the morning, a flowery spring dress.

"Belissima", the girl replied with a smile.

"Do you think he will like it?" Today she had a date, and Elena couldn’t be happier for her. Isabella met a North American man around her age at the hotel bar in town for a business trip, yet, he asked her for a date. It was harmless fun.

"If he doesn’t, he is blind or stupid. Look at you!" She exclaimed.

Elena left without completely letting her know how stunning and gorgeous she was. Time was ticking and at that point, he would be waiting for Isabella in a matter of minutes. Wandering around the city, Elena tried to take in all of the beauty it exalted; it was almost overwhelming. Standing in the middle of a bridge and not looking to an exact point in the horizon, she thought it would be a great idea to visit a few music shops and restaurants, just so she could experience entering a coffee shop in London by herself. It all felt like a dream.

The wind blew her skirt and her Jane Birkin-esque fringe was everywhere, including her sunglasses, but the whole thing seemed so genuine and new that she did not bother with the hair strands blocking her vision or pinching her face. Not at all. She was in what must have been Camden Town, judging by the lots of art and music shops — and after checking the map the first time that day, she confirmed it was indeed. One shop caught her attention, simple yet so charming looking, with boxes filled with records around the forefront, which was painted in bright colors in the window frame, mainly orange and yellow. Peeking inside, Elena noticed more records and a few instruments. It was intriguing, and there she entered.

The shop was truly beautiful in the most calming and comforting way. The items were mostly older records and music instruments, those being new and very well-crafted — they must make them here, she thought, noticing after a while it was a music shop for collectors and nerds, the brands of the instruments familiar but they were all personalized for each customer. With the sunglasses atop her head, she felt like walking into a psychedelic dream, the works in the pieces filled with color and abstract drawings. After looking around the LPs and grabbing a copy of The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, released four years back, she decided to face the instruments more attentively.

Elena was studying a new Bösendorfer piano, completely white except for the keys and the piece protecting them, she had never seen one in São Paulo when she heard the sound of the front door opening and closing right after, but did not mind. It was just her and another stranger in the store. From the corner of her eye, Elena saw him and she was amazed. The boy was tall, with strong facial features, a mustache and long curly hair that made her turn her head towards him. He was handsome, yet she saw him briefly. He was in the other section of the shop, looking around the guitars, probably for someone to help him with something. She tried not to pay attention and went back to the piano, sitting by the stool and putting Bob Dylan’s record over the top.

Surprisingly, the boy seemed to leave her thoughts quite fast, even though Elena’s stomach was turning into knots and butterflies. She began to play Quem Te Viu, Quem Te Vê, released earlier that year in Nara Leão’s new album, filled with her partnership with Chico Buarque, quietly singing to herself. Elena didn’t think much of it, it was pretty common for people to play at music shops, and the piano didn’t have a tag signaling it was already bought.

"Hoje o samba saiu, procurando você", her voice was small and sweet, and she was surprised to actually remember the words. "Quem te viu, quem te vê, quem não a conhece não pode mais ver pra crer, quem jamais a esquece não pode reconhecer…" For a moment it was as if she was still at home, playing her small black Yamaha during the weekends, learning new songs from the albums she brought home. "Hoje eu vou sambar na pista, você vai de galeria. Quero que você me assista na mais fina companhia. Se você sentir saudades, por favor, não dê na vista. Bate palma com vontade, faz de conta que é turista."

Elena happily finished the song considering she hasn’t heard the Vento de Maio in a good while. The girl was in her own little world when she began playing the firsts keys for I’ll Be Your Mirror — a tune by The Velvet Underground she discovered by accident after buying the LP just because of the cover — when someone cleared their throat behind her. Already feeling her face warm in embarrassment, Elena turned around.

"Hi", it was the man from before. Now she could really take in his looks. Strong nose, round doe eyes, big lips, bony big hands nervously playing with one another. He was wearing a flowy light-shaded pink shirt with a beige vest and Bordeaux colored pants. "I’m sorry; do you know where the owner is?" She was taken aback by him, more focused on how his messy hair made him look oh-so adorable and how thick his accent was than she’d like to admit.

"Oh, hi." Elena offered a small smile, the blush more intense. There could be seen a rosy shade creeping on the man’s face. "Actually no, now that you mentioned. I entered here and didn't see anyone."

"Weird, normally he’s here at this hour", he said looking around, and then placing eyes on the record on top of the piano. "D’ya like Dylan? He's nice", he smiled and all his teeth were shown and Elena swore she had never seen such a beautiful man in her lifetime. "What were you playing just now?" He asked, looking directly into her eyes. Moreover, she noted they were very dark and shiny. "Is that Spanish?" She could tell it was true curiosity, but Elena laughed at the question, clearly throwing him off as he blushed harder.

"It’s Portuguese. Brazilian Portuguese, more specifically", she smiled at him, cheeks flushing and looking down, trying to show the laugh wasn’t to make fun of him, just being nervous. "Completely normal to mistake one for the other. It’s Nara Leão", she noticed the name was completely new to him and smiled once again, amused. "Does Chico Buarque ring a bell?" He seemed more comfortable, yet the blush was evident. He nodded and came to sit by her right side in the stool, arms brushing together in result. Elena could feel the fabric of the shirt he was wearing in her upper arm. She was wearing a conventional top with most of her back exposed, the fabric holding itself by the knot at the back of her neck.

"De Holanda?" He spoke with that accent, her smile larger as she giggled. "Guess I wrecked it, right?" He laughed a bit, his tongue coming in between his long teeth.

"It doesn’t sound that bad, don’t worry", she laughed once more. "Either way, did you enjoy the song?" She was trying to make a conversation and maybe, just maybe, flirt a little. It was just a start.

"I did, doll. I did", he giggled, still not sure what to do with his hands but coming across as very much confident. Elena couldn’t take her eyes off of him. "Gonna look her up afterwards, be sure of that". That smile was gonna be the death of her. "If you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing here? People don’t usually play here." Elena’s eyes popped out.

"Don’t say that", she tried to sound nonchalant, but she was completely embarrassed. "It isn’t normal to play around in music shops here?" She couldn’t contain her disbelief, and he whole-heartly laughed at her, the sound soft at the ears.

"It is, just not here", he began playing a few notes on the piano, holding a grin. "It’s the kind of shop where the instruments are reserved and quite expensive. People are a bit over the top about it". At the explanation, she noticeably gulped. "Doll, don’t panic. There’s no one here", after swiftly putting a hand on her back and taking it off, he was back to playing with the keys.

"Do you come here very often?" Elena was analyzing his features, looking for a reaction.

"I come here when I don’t want to worry about stupid shite, like work and all of that jazz…" he stopped a second to look at the wristwatch on his left pulse, noticing it was almost two in the afternoon and giggling. "So yeah, I guess I come here quite a lot, even on a random Tuesday." He said laughing at himself. Tilting his head towards the girl, he watched her look at the piano so peacefully, in an almost mesmerizing manner. "What about you?" The boy asked, looking straight into her face.

"It's great to find somewhere to chill in the middle of the madness out there…" she thought loudly, cursing herself mentally for letting her strange ways come up. "Oh, it is my first time here. I thought it was obvious", she grinned, blushing a little.

"Y’have never been here before?" He was holding a smirk.

"Yeah. To be honest with you, it is my first time in England". His eyes jumped a little.

"How cool! Where are you from?" When he heard the answer, he was even more interested in the girl. "That explains the song. It must be amazing there. Well, if people are like you."

"Hum, uh, so, what were you looking for in there?" Blushing, she asked, pointing to the opposite side of the shop. "And thank you", almost above a whisper, but he heard it anyway, smiling at how nervous she looked.

"I was looking for an order I made, but I’m thankful I did not find it", he could not hold the smile much longer, so he just asked. "What is your name?"

"Elena", the girl said, her voice low. They could not stop looking at each other.

"Nice to meet you, Elena". He extended his hand out for a shake, and she took it gracefully. Her hand felt so soft against his. "I’m George", his hand was rough but comforting, leading Elena to think it was a sign.

"Since you don’t know round the city may I show it to you?" George asked as he got up, his eyebrows going up with his smile and arms open, causing Elena to laugh.

"Sure thing. I’m just going to pay for this and we can go". She checked the price in the Bob Dylan album and put a note in the cash register explaining what she had bought and what happened so the owner would not miss the item. George quietly smiled at the gesture, thinking how it wasn’t the norm to do that. And it wasn’t, but Elena was paranoid, for valid reasons, that any ambiguous action of hers could be used as reason to cause her suffering.

[djminte2000]

SKETCHBOOK TOUR!!!

Sketchbook tour gang :3

[georgeismyfavoritebeatle]

George Harrison x fem! OC

Summary: George and his girlfriend have a discussion about his hair

I'm thinking it takes place in like, 1969 ish

//

"Do you like my hair?"

They were on the bed, and it'd be relatively quiet while she read her novel. The question had Lucy's gaze shifting next to her where George sat up, his legs crossed at the ankle.

"What?"

"Do you like my hair?" He repeated, looking interested in her answer. He'd started growing it out where it now laid on his shoulders.

She shrugged, going back to her book. "I don't care."

Lucy made a noise of protest when George swiftly took the book, shutting it and setting it on the nightstand on his side.

"George!"

"Come on, Luce," he said, giving her those puppy dog eyes. "Answer the question."

"It's your hair. Do what you want with it."

"That's not an answer," he grumbled. Lucy rolled her eyes.

"Give me my book back."

He sighed but did as she demanded. "Ye always have opinions about everything else."

"Maybe I just don't care what you do with your own hair," Lucy opened it back up, frowning as she tried to find what page she'd been on.

"You've got to tell me what ye think about it," George said. She groaned. "Come on, I know you've got something to say."

She let out a breath through her nose, sitting up, snapping her book so she could lean over to him. "Fine. You want to know? I keep scissors on me so I can wait for the perfect time to chop it all off."

A tiny smirk crept up George's face, one he was poorly trying to suppress. "I could do without the sarcasm, thanks."

"And I-" She leaned forward again to softly kiss his lips, "could do without the stupid questions."

"It's not stupid, I'd like to know."

Sighing dramatically, she said, "Baby, I love your hair. I don't care what you do with it."

George self-consciously touched the back of it. "You think it looks alright like this?"

Lucy scooted herself into his personal space, resting her forehead against his. "It's more than alright."

He tilted his head to kiss her sweetly. When they parted, she put the back of her hand on his cheek.

"You're a bit warm."

"I know," he pushed some hair off his shoulder. "It's getting a bit hot, the hair is."

"Want me to plait it for you?" Lucy offered.

"No," he frowned a little.

"If you're worried about looking like a girl, it's a little too late for that," she tugged on his hair with a grin.

He jabbed her in the side, and she giggled, squirming away.

"No need to be so cheeky," he mock scolded her.

Lucy looked quite smug there for a moment or two. Then she said, You've got a hair bobble anywhere?"

"Afraid not."

She huffed, reaching back on her own nightstand to grab one. "You're going to need one, can't be using all of mine."

She directed him to turn around, asking for his cumb and began to comb out hair.

"Feels good, ay?" She said airily.

"Mmm, yes," George breathed out. "Might have to have you do this more often."

She kissed the back of his head, unable to keep her smile back.

"Why is your hair better than mine, though?" Lucy complained. "It's so smooth and there's barely any tangles."

"Can't help it if mine's perfect, Luv- ow!"

"Oops,' she said nonchalantly.

"That hurt!"

"Shut up and I won't pinch you, then."

Lucy carefully pulled half of his hair together, wrapping it up into a bun and leaving the rest of it down.

"There. How's that?"

She held up a mirror for him to see.

"Really good, thanks," he said sincerely.

"Good, now I can return to my book," Lucy laid back down, only to be swept into George's arms.

"I was thinking of something else, actually."

The book was thrown to the floor, forgotten as a stream of laughter left Lucy whilst she was kissed over and over.

[artyandink]

Could o request an Anthony Lockwood x fem reader where they have a love hate relationship where they both always risk their lives for eachother but then it always ends up in fights with one another and one day it leads to a very heated confession.

YOU'RE HEAVEN AND HELL

"Yeah, and what plan did you have, Mr Know-It-All?!"

"Oh shut it, you could have avoided standing in front of a charging ghost!"

"But I knew that plan would work!"

"Or was it a small experiment that could've gotten us both killed?" Lucy and George watched as the two came back from yet another case with yells and insults.

"Is that the fifth argument this week?" George tutted. "We're only two days in."

"And five days away from Armageddon." Lucy predicted. "I swear, these two will destroy all of humanity if they remain at loggerheads."

"Who destroys the other first? I say that Zuri will finish him first." George betted.

"We don't even need to bet some quid, cause I agree."

"I can take care of myself!" Lockwood shouted, making a gesture as if he was karate chopping his other hand.

"Oh, but you clearly can't!" I retorted, stepping forward and mimicking his own gesture.

"Neither can you, to be frank, I had to save you from being locked just yesterday. And now the tables have turned you really think you're the equal of Marissa Fittes and Sir John Fairfax, absolute saviour, aren't you?!"

I drew my rapier quickly, Lockwood matching it quickly.

“Let me show you how much of a bloody saviour I can be.”

“Ok! That’s enough!” Artemis (A/N: My OC, kinda like my signature) clapped her hands, using her own golden rapier to set down ours. “We don’t want a duel in the thinking space, do we?” She turned to George and Lucy, “I sort out something at SP3CTR for a few hours and this is what I’m coming back to. I should be used to it, but I’m not. Please tell me there’s tea or coffee, at least something.”

“We get it, you own a multi-trillion pounds worth company. But doesn’t that we can’t get into arguments.” Lockwood snapped.

“Oh, Tony, that’s your fifth argument this week and it’s only Tuesday. Two days in, five away from Armageddon.” Lucy gestured to Artemis to signal her agreement.

“Lockwood and I won’t cause Armageddon.” I scoffed, flicking my brown hair over my shoulder. “How can you be so sure of that?”

DAY THREE:

Lockwood, Artemis and I went on a case where they were dealing with a particularly difficult Type 2 called Harrison Prescott, who had spent the last few minutes trying to get Lockwood, but when he deemed that useless, he turned to me, and I was unprepared and didn’t notice him coming. I turned around, meeting the ghost’s eyes and falling to the ground, unable to move. This was the end of Zuri Miller. Someone better dance the Macarena at my grave or I’ll rise back from the dead to make someone do it.

“Get away from her!” Lockwood threw a flare, diverting the attention of the ghost. He threw his rapier to me, and I caught it, confused. I had my own bloody rapier with me!

“Lockwood, what the hell?!” I yelled, running forward and slashing wildly at the ghost, but he disappeared before the blade could touch the plasma. Artemis ran out of the other room, dusting off her hands.

“That’s how it’s done, ladies and ladies, let’s go.” She winked, leading us both downstairs.

“I had my own rapier with me, Lockwood, why’d you chuck yours? You couldn’t defended yourself!” I criticised angrily. He jeopardised everything!

“I didn’t see your rapier, and I had a plan!” “What was the brilliant plan, pray tell?”

“I’d give the rapier to you, you attack from behind and we switch between blade and no blade until Artemis dealt with the source!”

“I think that’s an idiotic plan! We’d go better with weapons anyway! Artemis, do you agree with me?”

“I think I’d better do the fighting with one of you from now on. Next case, Lockwood and I will deal with the ghost, Zuri, you deal with the source. Does that make everyone happy?” Artemis bargained, so we both nodded.

DAY FOUR:

I was rifling through the drawers, and found the source, but what I didn’t notice was that the ghost was behind me, snarling.

“I’ve got you, Zuri!” Lockwood was behind the ghost, slashing it expertly, giving me time to pull out the silver net and throw it on just as it went for Lockwood.

“You didn’t have to save me, I had it covered.”

“Oh no, you didn’t! You didn’t notice it was there!”

“You know what?!” Artemis snapped, stopping us all in our tracks. “I’ve had enough of babysitting you two! You’re like Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, you just keep going at each other. So I’ve come up with a solution. You two just aren’t going to speak to each other until this Sunday.”

“Why specifically Sunday? Can’t you extend the bracket?” Lockwood asked, folding his arms.

“Because there’s a job that requires your skill set and my skill set but I can’t make it, I have a conference with the world leaders then. The next best person to fill my position is you, Zuri, so do me a favour and complete the job without any arguments in the afterparty.” She pinched the bridge between her eyebrows, resigning herself for the opposite of her wishes. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Artemis.” We both chorused, a little intimidated under the tech giant’s presence. Her complete worked in protection, so obviously it did well. Plus, she could be intimidating when she wanted to.

“Good. Now, I’m going to get some coffee with my brother. Don’t tear the house apart while you’re at it, yeah?” She sighed, turning on her heel and muttering incessantly as she left.

“Did she say world leaders?!”

DAY SEVEN:

“George! Are you geared up?” Lucy barked, padded with pillows and armed with a cardboard shield and her rapier. George walked out of his room with the same, except he wore a baseball helmet over the top. “Good.”

“Today is Armageddon.” He dramatically announced. “The first day that Lockwood and Zuri will talk to each other after Artemis’ fateful condemning on day 3. They said that Armageddon doesn’t exist. What will scientists say now?”

“Armageddon does exist. See you on the other side, soldier.” Lucy prepared herself, saluting at the same time as George.

“Lockwood and Zuri are due back at 1400 hours.” Artemis announced, coming in through the front door. “Remain prepared, soldiers, for this might be a day we will not survive.”

“You’re playing along?” George gasped in delight.

“Course not. I’m a businesswoman, I state the facts. I’m not worried about those two, and, oh, look at the time.” She checked her watch, “It’s 13:59.”

“HIDE!” George and Lucy dived for cover just as the clock said 2pm, and just then Lockwood and I burst through the door, arguing like hell was breaking loose.

“YOU ABSOLUTELY IDIOTIC NARCISSIST! NOT EVERYTHING IN THIS WORLD’S ABOUT YOU!”

“I’M GONNA STOP BEING YOUR HUMAN SHIELD THEN!”

“FINE! I DIDN’T NEED YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE ANYWAY! MY LIFE WAS PERFECT UNTIL YOU CAME ALONG!”

“OH YEAH? MINE WAS BRILLIANT UNTIL YOU BARGED INTO IT AND RUINED IT COMPLETELY! SOMETIMES I WISH I COULD JUST KISS YOU!”

“THEN WHY DON’T YOU?! I’VE BEEN WAITING A HELLA LONG TIME FOR IT!”It took us both a few seconds to register what we just said, breathing heavily. Artemis counted on her fingers from three to one, taking out her phone. On 1, Lockwood crossed the room, cupping my face in his hands and smashing his lips on mine roughly, making George and Lucy gape and Artemis smirk. My hand reached up to tangle in his brown locks, deepening the kiss. It felt… amazing. Like all that tension I had with him was gone just like that. When we detached, Artemis had finished finding the number, laughing.

“Good job, all that built up tension finally did it.” She rang the number, holding the phone to her ear. “Yeah, Barnes? They did it. You owe me 50 quid, thank you very much.”

“This was all a convoluted plan of yours? To win a bet against Barnes?!” Lockwood panted.

“Yeah, precisely. Gotta put my talents somewhere, don’t I?” She shrugged.

“You bloody-“

[stanleypolecat]

🧡✨STANLEY’S 80S BAND✨🧡

the members of the band are:

Stanley Grant (the marbled polecat on the right she’s actually serious af in the 80s)

Allen Catner (Stoat x Fox mix in the middle)

George Harrison (the oriental shorthair on the middle-left)

Jack Byers ( the silver fox on the left)

also TAREK STEIN MY BELOVED WW1 OC FROM 2022/23 I STILL LOVE HIM HE’S SO PRECIOUS 😭✨💖

[laurfilijames]

Thank you for the tag @sotwk !! All of your WIPs sound amazing and you're very skilled at titling your fics! (Please teach me your ways 🤣)

"For the Show" has me 👀

Here are my WIPs that will hopefully be completed fics by the end of April *cries in Deano Bingo*

Love and Hate 3 (Ryder Harrison x fem reader)

Old Flame (Will Johnson x fem reader)

Lust and Lace 3 (Evan Lace x fem reader)

The Devil You Know 4 (Ford Lampton x fem reader)

Home (George Lowe x fem reader)

Serve and Protect 2 (Cop!Fili x fem reader)

Untitled (Will Johnson x fem reader)

Cowboy AU (modern Fili x fem reader)

Shelter From the Storm 6 (Will Johnson x fem reader)

Neighbours (Anders Johnson x OC Bridgette)

Tagging anyone who is interested to share!

WIP Game

Tagged by @emmyspov and @heilith <3 Thank you!

Rules: post the names of all the files in your wip folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips!

I have a spreadsheet of "Fics To Write", which includes requests received and my own story ideas and planned works. It is a LONG list, but I'm determined to get them done, especially the requests!

This "WIP List" includes only fics that I have active Word documents for, and they vary drastically in amount of words actually written:

"The Broken Shield" (Thorin and Frerin, guest-starring Thranduil and the Elvenqueen) - my entry to the Thorin's Spring Forge event

"A Stab to the Heart - Part 2" (Thranduil x OC Elvenqueen)

"For the Show" (The Thranduilion Princes, brotherhood fic)

"Excuse Our Baby" (The Thranduilion Princes, brotherhood fic)

"A Thousand More" (Thranduil x OC Elvenqueen)

"The Making of Ada" (Thranduil x OC Elvenqueen, Oropher)

"Steal Away" (Boromir x OC, a continuation of "A Captain's Duty")

"One Spring in the Long Peace" (Celeborn x Galadriel)

"First Meeting" (Thranduil x OC Elvenqueen, a continuation of "Sins of Our Fathers")

"Returning" (Thorin and Thranduil, post-BotFA)

"Little Ways" (Eomer x Reader, requested)

"Arrow's Point" (Haldir x Reader, requested)

"Safe Haven" (Elrond x Reader, requested)

Tagging 13: @lathalea @guardianofrivendell @middleearthpixie @laneynoir @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @laurfilijames @blairsanne @missiemoosie @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @cycas @court-jobi @legoriel-fan @tamurilofrivendell (and everyone else who wants to share!)

[sodascherrycola]

Full Name: Charlotte Anne Harrison (nee Holmes) DOB: October 7th 1943 Age: 79 years old

Parents: Thomas and Maryanne Holmes Siblings: Robert and Edward S/O: George Harrison (1964-2001) Married: June 29th 1964 (21 years old) Hometown: Doncaster, England Nicknames: Charlie, Lottie Job: Model Personality Traits: Sensitive, Carefree, Naive, and Kind

Children: George Gabriel Harrison (20, 1963) Charlotte Laura Harrison (23, 1966) Bethany Dawn & Nathan Marcus Harrison (27, 1970) Andrea Jaime Harrison (30, 1973) Damon Justin Harrison (34, 1977) Elijah Kyle & Rosalie June Harrison (37, 1980)

Appearance: - Blonde Wavy Hair - Blue Eyes - Likes to wear floral - Small Nose and big doe eyes

[strawb3rri-le]

i finally got a new keyboard for my ipad- if anyone wants to write/roleplay with me my PMs are open always!! (beatles accounts are absolutely encouraged :) )

🫶🫶

[ringospinkyring]

Hi! I’ve been really bored lately and I’ve been wanting to make new friends! I was also looking for someone to do a Beatles rp with me. I’m semi-lit and I do BxG! Feel free to DM me if you’re interested! ✌️

[stqrbuck93]

Se cancela el pata se enoja rápido fosoforito es y no quiero que mi amiga se amargue por el

(Ah pero un fanfic de ellos con george harrison x oc no estaría mal) jajajaj solo que lo haré un gentleman

Bro i have a friend that looks a lot like george Harrison in the 50s and i have this friend that is very cute and this guy i like (but i think he doesnt know what he want so…) this cute girl and george harrison clon get along really well so I SHIP THEM

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

OC Valentine’s Challenge

Day 4: Wherever You Stray, I Follow — Some favourite crossovers

Arianne Martin x Fitz Montgomery ( @perfectlystiles ) || Cassandra Aelius x Waverly Sinclair ( @megdonnellys )

Cassia Potter x Benton Hawke ( @hughstheforcelou​ ) || Etta Lockwood x George Cassidy ( @decennia​ )

Harper Harrison x Teddy Green ( @jinxsflame​ ) || Lucy Pierce x Junior Shostakov ( @guardiansofheroes​ )

Venus Malfoy x Alena Foster ( @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle​ ) || Willow Dell x Richie Gilmore ( @the-october-reviewer​ )

Forever Tag List: @themildestofwriters-ocs​​​ @gottaenjoythelittlethingzz​​​ @perhapspearl​​​ @seaweedhufflepuffocs​​​ @the-october-reviewer​​​ @foxesandmagic​​​ @perfectlystiles​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​ @peacheydelanhoes​​​ @darkwolf76​​​ @randomfandomingwrites​​​ @ocfairygodmother​​​ @villain-connoisseur​​​ @witchofinterest​​​ @neutralomens​​​ @ultraocfury​​​ @guardiansofheroes​​​ @malice1329​​​ @ochub​​​ @cas-writesocs​​​​ @eddysocs​​​ @ocappreciationtag​​​ @fiercefray​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​ @farfallasunicas​​​​ @amixedwitch​​​ @ocs-supporting-ocs​​ @stanshollaand​​​ @decennia​​​ @darth-caillic​​​ @ironverseocs​​ — want to be added? shoot me an ask

Arianne Tag: @farklelucas @lizziesxltzmxn @megdonnellys

Cassandra Tag: @megdonnellys

Cassia Tag: @megdonnellys @lizziesxltzmxn @aceyanaheim

[shanardo13]

Hey everyone! Times are tough, and I’m trying to save some money for my university. That’s why I’ve decided to try and open commissions and see if there is any interest.

I would be charging $10.00 for every 1000 words, and you can decide how long you’d like it to be based off that.

Here’s a list of things I can think of which I would write:

Character/character

Character/OC

Self insert

A letter written to you from your favourite character

NSFW content (within reason: I won’t write pedophilia, beastiality or non consensual scenes; but I would be open to writing a comfort scenario where one character comforts another who has been abused)

LGBTQ+

And now here’s a list of some of the fandoms I know and would be comfortable writing for (however if you’re interested in something else, just PM and we can discuss your ideas.)

The Beatles

The Rolling Stones

Oasis

David Bowie

Pink Floyd

The Who

(Honestly, just Pm me which band you’re interested in)

The Outsiders

Law and Order: SVU

Oz

Gilmore Girls

My idea is: if you commission me, you will receive a digital copy of the written piece, as well as a hard copy which I will mail to you, all included for the price of $10 per 1000 words. I have this stationary set which I would write the piece out on and send to you via mail (there’s a pic of the stationary included below and you can choose which design you would like)

So yeah, just shoot me a pm if you’re interested and we can discuss any ideas you have. I’m open to pretty much anything, so even if you don’t see what you’re thinking listed here, just message me and we can go over it.

Thanks so much 💜

[somethinginrocknroll]

So I make personal stickers (ex down below) for fun and I’m debating on making and selling them for extra cash (even tho I work four days a week) but I don’t know because that seems like such a big commitment plus I write fanfics and I have school next week.

The examples:

George My OCS Roger

What do you guys think? Should I make some and sell them? Would any of you guys be interested?

[georgeismyfavoritebeatle]

George Harrison x fem! OC

Set in early 60s

Summary: George's girlfriend, Abby, is feeling under the weather

//

George hated to wake her. Abby was finally getting some sleep after a restless night of coughing and vomiting. He stayed up with her, ignoring her when she insisted she was fine on her own.

She needed to take more medication, though. So he slowly got into the bed to sit down beside her, gently shaking her arm. "I'm sorry to wake ye, Love," George whispered. "But you need to take this for me, okay?"

Abby groaned, not yet opening her eyes. George smiled sympathetically, rubbing a hand up and down her back.

"I know, darling. Do ye think you can sit up for me?"

Abby was still very sleepy but she managed to do so, eyes still fluttering open and shut. She coughed hard, to which George held up a glass of water for her to take.

She took it into her shaky hands. George seemed to be ready to take it back any second now just in case she might drop it

Drinking nearly half of it and taking the tablets, Abby gave it back so she could burrow back under the blankets. She shivered, and he knew she must have a fever.

George wasted no time in throwing the blanket over himself too, curling up behind her. "Come 'ere," he said softly. Abby rolled over, burying herself in his arms. He kept her warm, kissing the top of her head. "How're you feeling right now?"

"Awful," Abby said miserably. Her nose was clogged, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"Do you need anything?" George asked.

"No," she mumbled. "But aren't you supposed to be at the studio?"

"I told Brian I couldn't make it. The lads will understand."

"But-" She started to say but was cut off by a yawn, "you've got that song to record."

"I'm not leaving ye," George's fingers threaded through her loose, messy hair. "I'll stay right here until you're well. Promise."

He knew his girl well enough to not ask if she wanted him to stay. She was a stubborn one, Abby was, always worrying about someone else than herself. She'd sooner tell him to leave despite wanting him here with her.

She was quiet at first, then said in what was barely above a whisper, "Thank you, Georgie."

"No need to thank me," he nuzzled her hair.

It only took a couple of minutes until Abby was sound asleep in his arms. For the next couple of hours, George laid there, humming a tune and closing his own eyes, relaxing in the warm embrace.