#savoy brown shoe

[jess-the-reckless]

I didn't do much work this weekend, because I couldn't be arsed. Instead I wrote some fic, and continued to be amazed how well Crowley and Aziraphale adapt to the role of grumpy, middle-aged lesbians. In this bit they return to the suite at the Savoy where they had a dirty weekend in The Lady Gardener, except now they are hopelessly, aggressively married.

____________________________

Aziraphale went through to the living area in search of the room service menu. It was one of those hot summer days where the river itself seemed to be sweating, casting a fine mist through the heat shimmer bouncing off the Embankment. The last time she’d been here had been spring. The daffodils had been out in St. James’s Park, and she and Crowley had rolled around in the guise of illicit lovers like a pair of happy pigs in poo. Well, sort of happy. There were things she could do now that she couldn’t do then, like knitting Crowley rubbish socks, or saying ‘I love you’, or casually asking at reception if her wife had arrived at the hotel yet.

Crowley, now minus the sleep mask, followed her through the suite. She was still wearing the socks, despite the heat. Below the preciptiously high hem of her tiny nightie her legs were long and brown, tanned from hanging around gardens in very small shorts. “How was your gardening class?” Aziraphale asked.

“Maxless,” said Crowley, tossing herself onto the sofa. “Alison has pulled her out.”

“Oh no. Why?”

Crowley shrugged, pulling her hem up almost to crotch height. By some miracle she was actually wearing underpants, but then again she had only just got here. “Apparently I’m recruiting her to the transgender agenda,” she said.

“And how are you doing that?”

“Not sure. I was just trying to encourage her interest in entomology. Are insects transgender?”

“Oh, probably,” said Aziraphale, perching at the table next to the window, and kicking off her shoes. “I know there are fish that change sex. And reptiles, I think.”

“Snakes, definitely. We get up to all sorts. Do you know there are some snakes that can reproduce asexually?”

Aziraphale looked up from the wine list in alarm. “Crowley, if this is your way of telling me you’re pregnant I’m going to be very upset.” She’d mentally pencilled in a lot of drinking for this weekend, and it was going to be no fun at all if Crowley couldn’t partake.

“Pregnant? At my age? No. I was just saying. Lot of things change gender. Birds do it, bees do it…”

“…yes, even educated fleas, I daresay,” said Aziraphale, mentally meandering into Cole Porter. It seemed an endless source of horror to the Alisons of this world that their child should ever want to change sex at some point, as though that was somehow the worse thing a child could ever want to do with their life, a thing so horrible they had to be ‘brainwashed’ into it. Aziraphale was not clear about how this brainwashing was supposed to take place. According to Louise it could take root if they were exposed to too many rainbow flags, or the wrong kind of rainbow flags. The rainbows were only meant to have a certain number of stripes, apparently. If they had too many stripes then – boom – your child broke out in a violent case of transgenderism and became…something? Rabid, perhaps. Or they turned into one of those monsters who left only one sheet of toilet paper on the roll, strategically wrapped around the cardboard spindle to look like there was more.

The feared consequences were never entirely clear, but they never were with these types of moral panics. Aziraphale had seen it all before, too many times, and while she wasn’t that deep into the lore of this new derangement she thought she knew the root of the anxiety behind it: the children were not listening to their parents. It always happened, and it had to happen, because it was normal and natural for them to do so. But letting them go? Letting them go off and do their own thing and make their own mistakes? Yes, that was terrifying, and that’s where the Alisons came in useful to the Louises, who knew how to poke at those natural parental anxieties like a demon goading the damned. Alisons, in their own way, were as dangerous as the Louises. It took a wolf to frighten the sheep, yes, but a stampede of sheep could still make one hell of a mess.

That village needed a sheepdog.

“Hmm?” said Crowley, getting to her feet. Something rustled, as though she’d been sitting on a shopping bag, and Aziraphale glanced back at the sofa, half hoping that Crowley had popped into Coco de Mer for old times sake. But no. “What are you on about?” said Crowley, meandering to the window. “We’re not getting a dog.”

“Who said anything about getting a dog?”

“You did. Just now. You just said ‘that village needs a sheepdog’ while fiddling with the backs of your earrings, and staring out at the river.” Crowley’s arms slithered around her from behind. “Are you all right? You’re not going to start turning London landmarks into vaginas, are you?”

“I’m fine,” said Aziraphale. “Just thinking aloud. You know me. I’m very old, and my mental processes are opaque at the best of times.” There it was again. The rustle. Like the scrunch of a plastic bag, but wet somehow. “What’s that noise?”

“Traffic. You know – that thing they have in London?”

“I know what traffic sounds like, Crowley. And it doesn’t squelch. Is that you?”

“Oh. That. Yeah. I’ve got Vaseline socks on.”

Aziraphale leaned her head back into Crowley’s chest and looked up. “I’m sorry – what?”

“It’s a thing,” said Crowley, taking a seat at the table. “Like, yes, I know Louise is a creature from Hell, but Olga told me she has this hardcore method of moisturising feet, and you know me and feet. I’ll take any help I can get. You cover your feet with petroleum jelly, put a sock on over the top, then let it just…sit. Marinate.”

“I see. Won’t you get Vaseline all over your socks?”

“No. That’s the clever part, see. You put a plastic sandwich bag over the Vaseline, and then you put on the sock…”

“…and rustle and squelch strangely all over a nice suite at the Savoy?”

“Yes.”

“You’re entirely bizarre,” said Aziraphale.

Crowley wriggled in her chair. “You love me,” she said, running a socked and sandwich-bagged foot up the back of Aziraphale’s calf.

“I do, but please attend to the foot situation before we go any further. I’m sorry, but I can’t get amorous when you’re roaming around with your feet done up a la Louise. Just the mere thought of that woman is enough to render me parched to the knees and beyond.” Aziraphale reached for the wine list again. “Shall I order us some champagne?”

“Surprised it took you this long, actually. I was beginning to think you were ill.”

[starryoong]

|— ୨|୧ [ get to know me tag ] ୨|୧ —|

tagged by @bbyquokka (thank you !!) ‹3

1. Birthday?

October 16th!

2. Favorite color?

green and brown, especially sage/olive shades and a good earthy brown... mmm yes

3. How tall are you?

164cm (again, shut up snowy, I will jump up and bite your ass.)

4. How many pair of shoes to you own?

hmm, three? a pair of trainers, a pair of winter ish boots and my trusty pair of slippers.

5. Favorite song?

I always answer these with my current one, so Treacherous (Taylor's version) by Taylor Swift! One of my two favourites by her.

6. Favorite movie?

I honestly don't know? I haven't watched a movie in so long because my attention span goes feral.

7. Who would be your ideal partner?

someone who would challenge me, but still be a comfort place. I'm gonna be real sappy and say that Binnie would fit the role..

8. Do you want children?

nope, I've never wanted them ever since I was a wee kindergartener. It's just never been something I've wanted?

9. Have you gotten in trouble with the law?

nope.

10. What color socks are you wearing?

grey wool socks with little black moose on them hihi

11. Favorite type of music?

My favourites are definitely indie (especially scottish indie, take Vansleep for example, my beloved) and generally I find myself leaning more into anything that has solid rhythm sections, especially bass lines. There's just something about a bangin bass line, man..

12. How many pillows do you sleep with?

Usually one, but since I tend to move a lot, I fold it so it's double if it's not the right™️ height haha.

13. What position do you sleep in?

99% of the time I end up on my stomach with one of my legs up in some angle. Yes, I am aware that I'm very attractive.

14. What don’t you like when you’re sleeping?

I get so fucking stressed if there's movement or blinking lights around me when I'm trying to relax.

15. Have you tried archery?

no, but I wish!

16. Favorite fruit?

peaches <3

17. Are you a good liar?

depends? I don't like lying, but I also don't get the point in being brutally honest all the time if it's a taste thing and it doesn't really matter? Idk

18. What’s your personality type?

INFJ-T (twinning with bestie Aragorn hihi)

19. Innie or outie?

innie

20. Left or right handed?

right

21. Favorite food?

I like sushi and taco a completely normal amount. I vibe with food as long as it's not too spicy or hot (temperature-wise) and the textures are right™️

22. Favorite foreign food?

Sushi and taco, hehe

23. Are you clean or messy?

Usually? A very clean person. I love cleaning and tidying as it calms my anxiety, but when I hit my depressive episodes? Yeah, you can easily spot it from the state of my apartment.

24. Most used phrase?

slay

25. How long does it take you to get ready?

usually like 5-15 minutes?

26. Do you talk to yourself?

not really? not unless I'm really scared and have to physically remind myself of my checklists etc

27. Do you sing to yourself?

all the time.

28. Are you a good singer?

idk? I used to sing in choirs and weekly one-on-one training from 4/5 to 16, but I'm pretty rusty these days. I have a goal to join a choir again this year 🤞🏻

29. Biggest fear?

two potentially very triggering topics that I'm not gonna air out on the internet. oh and also eels. cannot stand the fuckers.

30. Are you a gossip?

oh god, I hate gossip culture so much. I come from a town where everybody knows everybody and I hate it.

31. Long or short hair?

short

32. Favorite school subject?

norwegian, english and psychology

33. Extrovert or introvert?

a massive introvert ;-;

34. What make you nervous?

anything involving people. the fact that I am an adult supposedly able to take care of myself when I feel like a traumatised eight-year-old still.

35. Who was your first crush?

I didn't really do crushes, but I remember wanting to be paul waaktaar-savoy so bad

36. How many piercings do you have?

none right now! I've had my nostrill, septum, vertical medusa, medusa, smiley and earlobes pierced before, but I took them all out to heal last year. I wanna start fresh this year, bridge and some ear piercings are on the list.

37. How many tattoos do you have?

I've genuinely lost count.. A lot <3

38. How fast can you run?

very slowly.

39. What color is your hair?

a weird mix of semi-blonde, brown and my natural brown-blonde-grey ish colour.. idk man.

40. What color are your eyes?

blue/grey

41. What makes you angry?

mostly societal injustice. atm, I'm fucking fuming at the national healthcare system in my own country for refusing to offer non-binary folks help because we're not "trans enough".

42. Do you like your name?

I feel disconnected from both my deadname and my new name. Slowly unpacking that with my therapist. Starry feels more like a safe space though.

43. Do you want a boy to girl as a child?

I don't want children, but if I were to have one - it would honestly not matter. I would try to treat them as genderlessly as I could until they could choose for themselves, so it genuinely doesn't matter.

44. What are your strengths?

right now, I don't feel like I have any tbh. but normally, I think I try my best to make people feel seen and heard?

45. What are your weaknesses?

we're not gonna open that door right now

46. What’s the color of your bedspread?

white with brown/red lines

47. What’s the color of your room?

where I am now, white. in my apartment, light grey.

I'm too tired to tag anyone right now, but feel free to say I tagged you if you want to do this! 🫶🏻

[eld-posh]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Earth Origins Savoy Shantel Women's Size 8.5 Shoes Sedona Brown Sepia Sandal.

[patsdrabbles]

He’s Mine

Title: He’s Mine Fandom: The Traveling Wilburys Pairing: Bob Dylan/George Harrison Rating: Gen Word Count: 2402 Summary: There was a woman standing in the hyacinth flowerbed. An in-universe AU of my WIP Dylarrison fanfic “Planting Trees”; things don’t happen/get revealed like that in the main fic. The gist is the following: Bob is between a broken engagement and a new album that needs to be written and escaped to a mansion he bought in the middle of an English forest. There he meets George, who has explanations for everything. But some things are for Bob to be found out on his own. A/N: Part 20 of my Daily Fanfic Chocolates calendar :D For the prompt “’my current partner is a huge asshole and I need a reason to break up with them, so will you pretend to be my possessive and violent ex’ + Dylarrison” sent to me by both @savoy-brown-shoe and @siliconpine! I put a little twist on it, but I hope that’s alright! ^^ Please enjoy ❤

(links to AO3 and the DFC masterpost are in the reblogs!)

There was a woman standing in the hyacinth flowerbed.

Bob knew so, because he spotted her first on his walk with George through the garden. George had wanted to teach him more about the plants growing here and their proper care, and Bob had found it all too easy to agree.

Instead of learning about flowers now, however, they approached the woman, who just remained where she stood as they got closer.

It was the fur coat that should have told him, Bob later thought in retrospective.

It was the honey-voiced yet sharp “Bob!” that made him realize that trouble was ahead.

Before the bafflement left him, enabling him to utter the important question of what the hell she was doing here, in England, George already spoke up.

“And who’s that, standing in my hyacinths?”

George frowned and Bob had never seen him so pissed off before. Huh. Maybe he did have a chance of getting out alive of this after all.

“That’s... Macy. The woman I cheated on my ex-fiancée with like an idiot.”

George halted, then nodded knowingly when he remembered – one of the few things they both remembered of their recent drunk late-night conversation.

“Macy–” George started, then paused for a moment, not knowing her last name and regretting the loss of emphasis his address had because of it. “Firstly, I would kindly ask you to get out of my hyacinths.”

She shrugged carelessly, but stepped out of the flowerbed at last. Bob expected George to relax thereafter, but he was clearly mistaken. The tension in George’s shoulders only seemed to increase as he stepped closer towards her.

“And secondly, I would ask you to leave right now and not return, before I get really angry.”

She laughed.

She laughed in his face and showed off teeth that suddenly frightened Bob. They looked canine, and for a split moment, he could have sworn that her eyes flashed yellow and her fingernails were literally sharp as razor blades. He instinctively took as step back.

“Sure, dearie.”

She gave George a put-on lascivious grin and once-over that made Bob want to gag. She was gorgeous, yes, and it had been the last straw to doom his already doomed relationship, but now that he saw her in the daylight? Quite frankly, she was scaring him. And his list of reasons as to why currently kept growing by the minute.

“But I’m not gonna leave without dear Bobby here.”

She said it in a way that would have a bystander think that she was simply implying having a good time, but there was an undertone to her voice that told him that he was a dead man if he followed her. Potentially, literally dead.

“Well, sorry luv’, but I don’t think so.” George’s voice had dropped quiet, but it had a dangerous undertone.

“Dear ‘Bobby’ here... he isn’t going anywhere. Lest of all with you.”

A low, rumbling sound started to fill the air, and it took Bob a handful of seconds to realize that Macy was growling.

“Is that so?” she asked, and when had she moved to stand face to face to him?

Suddenly, faster than his vision could comprehend, a hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and he was being yanked forward.

“You’ll thank me, trust me,” she said with a honeyed voice as her grip on Bob’s shirt tightened.

She only got one step farther before George stood right in front of them, hissing. And fucking hell, had his teeth always been so damn sharp?

“He’s mine, and you are going to let go off him this instant, or you’re not going to leave this place alive.”

For some reason, Bob knew that he wasn’t making empty threats and a shiver ran down his spine.

Without a word of warning, he found himself yanked out of Macy’s hold and pushed behind George and thereby out of her reach. Which was good, because the very next moment, George was already pinning her to a tree with both his hands as she struggled against his grasp. Her fur coat seemed to blur, and Bob squinted, not sure if he had gone insane or was simply panicking.

But in the end, there was no denying the fact that Macy, the woman, had just turned into a huge... wolf?

The wolf was still struggling against George, but his grip didn’t only look vice-like but seemingly was it, as well, and he didn’t let go of her once.

“You will leave this place. You won’t ever return here, either.” He leaned in and let his teeth flash again, staring sternly into the eyes of the wolf who Bob was only then beginning to comprehend was Macy.

The wolf – Macy – turned her head to the side, trying to evade his gaze.

“He is mine to enjoy and you won’t get a bite of him, not now, nor ever.” George turned his head and gave Bob a soft smile that made Bob get weak in the knees for a multitude of reasons. He wasn’t anyone’s anything but he wouldn’t correct George; he could see what game he was playing. “I know a good thing when I see one and you? Are late.”

George leaned in and bared his teeth again, and for the first time since Macy’s unexpevted appearance, the cogwheels in Bob’s head began to turn, and he finally, finally began to understand a good amount of things about George – including the reason why Macy had overtaken herself when she decided to challenge him.

George was not the janitor’s son. Or perhaps he was, but then his dad must have died a very, very long time ago.

Bob had a lot of questions, but all of them disappeared to the back of his mind when George simply picked up the wolf – Macy – and marched her right off the grounds. Hesitantly, unwilling to end up being torn into literal pieces, Bob followed the two of them. He should probably be running, leave before George returned, but for some reason, he wasn’t worried about him. He found that he was the opposite of scared. He felt save with George.

George’s hold on Macy didn’t loosen for a single moment, and by the time the house behind them had noticeably shrunk in size, she was starting to transform back into her human shape.

“Rrrrrgh – let go of me!” were her first words, but George just shrugged.

“You came into my house, young lady–” He grinned, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You play by my rules, and those are to be nice.”

She just snorted and he shook his head as if he were disappointed by her. “Trust me, I could have hurt you if I wanted to – and you really made me want to earlier – but... I won’t.”

She kicked against his shin then but he simply kept walking. Bob didn’t have words to describe what he was feeling right then, but it was an odd mixture of pride and awe and relief.

When George set her down, he kept hold of her with one hand, which seemed to be enough to keep her in place. That came as a relief to Bob since now she wasn’t only throwing George deadly glances, but him, as well. This time around, however, he didn’t take a step back. He remained where he stood with a safe distance to the two of them and kept watching.

“How sweet. Your food is already following you.” Macy laughed. “Does he know that if you want to, you can kill him? That he won’t be a forever-young rock star if you decide against keeping him?” She looked George in the eye and smiled. “You know that he used to be quite famous, right? Are you up to date on the music scene? Because that man was quite something... ten years ago or so.”

It’s a stab at him but Bob couldn’t have cared any less. George already knew who he was, had for a while. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like George was going to make a go for his blood anyway. Bob was pretty sure of that, although he wouldn’t have been able to explain why.

“Or do you maybe want your own, personal... rough-voiced songbird?” Macy raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely interested now.

George remained silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“I don’t owe you an answer, and I hope you’re aware of that.”

She grinned. “But...?”

“He has other skills that are worth keeping him around for... for now.”

She laughed, and this time it sounded genuine. Meanwhile, George’s tone of voice wasn’t the only thing that had had a shiver run down Bob’s spine. No, much rather it was the implication of George’s lie that had caused Bob’s breath to hitch.

“Look, I’ve spent a lot of time and money following old Bobby here.” She looked around herself with an evaluating glance. She also seemed to see or smell something in the trees at their side, judging by her tilted head and suddenly narrowing eyes. “Allow me to go on a hunt on these grounds – I’m assuming they belong to the mansion? – and I’ll go. Sounds fair?”

George remained quiet for a moment, then nodded.

“I’d hardly call showing up on someone’s flowerbed and demanding his lover fair, but I see where you are coming from. But these are Bob’s grounds, not mine. You’ll need to get his permission.”

Their gazes met, and George nodded gently once Macy had turned her head to look at Bob.

She grinned, and her teeth were sharp, and Bob just wanted for her to be gone.

He lifted his shoulders in a slow shrug and murmured: “Sure, go ahead. But don’t kill off the entire forest population, alright?”

He already anticipated another one of her laughs, but instead, George spoke up again.

“You swear on your life to stand by your word? You get to hunt on the grounds today, but you won’t ever get closer to the mansion than this.” He pointed at the section of the road they were standing on. “And you won’t ever return here after today, nor follow Bob ever again?”

She looked back at Bob for a moment, then at George again, and smiled tightly.

“You have my word.”

George nodded and let go of her. She kept standing in front of him for a moment, considering her next move, and looked toward the forest again.

“Alright. Goodbye then.”

She turned around and left to their right, turning into her wolf form the very second she broke into a run.

George and Bob remained standing in the middle of the street for a long, silent moment.

“I... cheated on my ex-fiancée with a murderous wolf?” Bob finally managed to get out.

You told her I was your lover? was what he wanted to ask as well, but didn’t.

“Yes?” George eyed him carefully, waiting for the other shoe to drop and Bob starting to run away. He honestly wouldn’t have blamed him.

But that moment never came.

“Thank you, George. That was–” Bob met his eyes and gave him a weak smile. “Thank you.”

When neither of them said anything further, Bob pointed toward the mansion with a movement of his head. “Let’s get back, huh?”

They slowly made their way back, George constantly checking the woods to their sides for movement, but relieved that there was none, and Bob walking quietly next to him, mostly staring at the ground, lost in thought.

Back inside the mansion, however, Bob stopped walking the moment they both had crossed the threshold.

“You are not going to kill me. Even though you are a vampire or something like that and easily could.”

It wasn’t a question but a statement.

George took in Bob for a moment. He should have known Bob better, trusted him more. He wasn’t sure when he could ever have brought up the matter of “by the by, I’m undead”, though. It didn’t matter anymore anyway; Bob knew now. And he was still there and trusted him.

“I won’t. And yes I am and could, but I won’t. You don’t know how hard I tried not to, and now I found a way, and–”

“George, you’re babbling.”

Bob was smiling and George took a deep breath.

“I’m sure you have a few questions.”

“I have a great load of ‘em. But that can wait for later. For now, just– Thank you again. I didn’t know what Macy was till earlier, and you saved my life, literally.”

Also, you are really strong? And you said I was your lover in a way that convinced even me it was true for a second? was what Bob didn’t say but thought as he saw what had happened pass again in his mind’s eye. He had been a hell of a lucky bastard, having had George by his side when Macy had appeared.

He was a hell of a lucky bastard to have George by his side, full stop.

Even though it was as a friend and not, as George had implied for the sake of his subterfuge and keeping Bob safe, as a lover.

There was still the matter of George’s former fiancée.

And even that aside... Bob was unsure if George really reciprocated those – he would have had to admit to it to himself eventually anyway, so he might just do it today – feelings he was starting to develop for the other man.

George gave him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

He looked at Bob with a concerned gaze, and only then did Bob realize that he was shaking.

George spoke up again. “I could go collect some herbs in the garden, but...” He shook his head. “I trust she’ll stay away from the mansion and, more importantly, you now, but... Better not take any risks.”

Bob raised an eyebrow in question as George’s gaze got lost in the distance and he scratched his chin.

“I think we have a tea in the kitchen that should do the job, though, as well.”

George smiled as he reached for Bob’s hand and took it in his.

“C’mon, let’s get something for the nerves.”

Bob followed him – trusting him with his life, in fact, and shaking more than before now that George’s colder hand held his own hand, gently.

[murderous-coffeebean]

Merry Christmas from Tom and Jeff!

Hello, @savoy-brown-shoe!!! :D I’m your Secret Santa in this wonderful event created by @tompettyaesthetics! ^-^/ I liked the baking-related prompt a lot and, since I adore making gingerbread cookies a lot, I drew Tom offering Jeff some of the snowman gingerbread cookies he made ^^ I hope you’ll like it!!! <3333

Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne © themselves art © Murderous-Coffeebean [deviantART] Please do not trace nor repost this here on tumblr or elsewhere; thanks.

[sapphic-hobbit]

savoy-brown-shoe -> sapphic-hobbit

Hello, I’m just changing my URL because it has been coming for a long time I just didn’t know what to change it to. I’m still not sure, but I’m trying it out for now :^) life is too short to have one URL. Anyways, have a great day! <3

[reshiiii]

Im gonna throw a wild guess, I think you're pimk purpel and blonk 🤔

Yeah, sure, "a wild guess". More like "I have all the reciepts" ✨

[elenafishersps1]

@savoy-brown-shoe replied to your photoset “this beanie makes me hate him and yet…i keep putting him in it”

Is that a mod or is that hat in the game? ��

it’s a mod

[szappan]

if you put me in a house, i would much prefer a flat. if you put me in a flat, then i'd rather have a house

rat

[midnineties]

joan baez :^D

do right woman, do right man !!! god what a queen ..,... it b kinda sexy doe

also prison trilogy (billy rose) and house of the rising sun Oof I love that cover sm

send me a band/artist and i’ll tell u my fav song

[sneez]

hey i just thought about this and i would like to ask you... as a british person and a historic enthusiast, what is your opinion on the current british royals? do you like them, dislike them? do you care about the ceremonies? and why? (thank you in advance if you decide to answer this, and have a great day, friend ♥♥♥)

ohh what a good question, thank u my dearest aldrig!! ♥♥♥ i do actually agonise over this issue quite a lot because i’m very much In Two Minds about it. on the one hand i’m a socialist and the idea of inherited wealth & authority in the style of the monarchy is repugnant & goes against my political and moral values, but from a historical & personal perspective i......do sort of like them.....i don’t keep up with the royal news or watch the events on the telly or anything, but i like their existence & all the traditions and ceremonies that surround them. the idea of abolishing the monarchy is great in my socialist brain, but the idea makes me sad at the same time because i love the fact that we’ve had a continuous line of kings & queens right back to william the conqueror and getting rid of them would upset me on a personal rather than a moral level. does that make sense? i’m certainly not a monarchist and i dislike what the royal family stands for but i like the history behind and around them. alas for being divided!! :,}

[owostims]

Hello, do you also do musicians??? Would you please make Joan Baez in the 1960s/1970s? Thank you and if not that's okay ❤️ have a great day, you're doing wonderful work ^^

hi hi!!! i DO do musicians as of today kdjfhkjdg!!! thammnk you for sending in a request bgfjhdkfjg,,, i appreciate it so so much!!!!! here is your request: I put in like!! guitar stuff bc i know she played that…the nature for like?? her folky music and stuff? ALSO a certain. little bird told me you like water color stuff or do it or something like that?? so i put that in as well!!!! i hope you have an AMAZING life and everything you’re so nice lkjhfdgkjdfgdfkg…. feel free to send in more reqs or ask for smth changed :D!!!!

[jondeacon]

i was literally just thinking about you today, that i haven't seen you in a while... hope you're having a good time tho ♥ welcome back :^)

Aaaah bb 💖💖💖💖💖😌 but yeah im doing excellent now, idk im in reall, good spirits maybe its only eurovision but djdnfnfn yeah its great to relax a bit now 💖

[fancybasementfestival]

You listen to Peter Nagy? Wait is that someone else than who I think it is? We have a Peter Nagy in Slovakia, but I'm not sure you mean him? I didn't know there were more Peter Nagys

oh that’s a funny coincidence! the Peter Nagy i listen to is a classical musician :D

[patsdrabbles]

Fixing What’s Broken

Title: Fixing What’s Broken Fandom: The Beatles Pairing: John Lennon & George Harrison; John Lennon/Paul McCartney (not yet established) Rating: Gen Word Count: 1055 Summary: John is angry and worried, George is a Good Friend. Co-starring Ringo, Paul and Eppy. A/N: The awesome @savoy-brown-shoe sent me the prompts G (a fistfight), W (waiting for something) and D (subtle kindness) for The Beatles from this prompt list and I immediately had the idea for this fic. ^^ Thank you ever so much for the ask, I had lots of fun writing this! ♥ Feedback is, no matter how short, super appreciated and helpful! ♥ Enjoy <3 (AO3)

“Ye bloody git, just let me to ‘im!” John was spitting venom, barely containing his anger at being denied entry every time he approached the white door at the end of the hallway.

“John, stop it.”

The hand on his shoulder made John clench his jaw and turn around with a murderous expression on his face. “He could be dyin’ for all we know, Eppy, don’t patronise me.”

“John.” It was Ringo. He kept his hands to himself, having seen John’s bad reaction to Eppy’s hand on his shoulder. “He’s gonna be alright.”

Brian nodded. “It’s just a broken arm. We’ll have to cancel the last show of the tour, but he’s going to be alright, just as Ringo said.”

John merely huffed as he stomped back to the seats at the other end of the hallway, from where George was silently observing John’s fifth attempt at going to see Paul. When John approached the seat next to him, he stood up and blocked John’s path, showing no worry whatsoever at angering his friend further. “Let’s go outside, John.”

John stopped in his tracks and looked at him dumbfounded for a moment. “Ye ordering me around now, too, Harrison?” There was an edge to his voice, but George had had enough of John being antsy for the day. It wouldn’t get Paul to wake up sooner and it was just driving the rest of them crazy. Besides, John’s last attempt, blocked by a clearly already overworked doctor, had almost led to a fistfight, prevented only by Ringo, Brian and George stepping in.

So John could really take his anger and stuff it elsewhere. George wasn’t taking this no longer. They were all stressed to a certain degree, what with never knowing how Paul might have reacted to the narcosis, and they all had had no sleep last night, but they didn’t let it on as much as John did.

When John just glared daggers at him, George gently grasped his arm and started to steer him toward the door. “Come along, Lennon. They’ll let us know when Paulie wakes up.” He and John both turned their heads toward Ringo and Brian, who had until then been talking softly on the other side of the hallway but now looked up and nodded in agreement, having overheard George’s words.

“C’mon, mate.”

John visibly deflated in front of them and followed George to the door, down to the elevators at the end of the adjacent hallway and down to the little café in front of the hospital. George steered them toward a free table and, after sitting down and looking up at the sunlit early morning sky for a moment, met John’s gaze dead-on.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“How-“ “I know you think it is, I know ye well enough to be able to tell.”

“I-“ John breathed out heavily. “I was joking around, makin’ a fool of meself as usual, and... when I winked at Paulie to join in on the joke, he tripped. ...It was me bloody fault alright, George.”

“Hey. John. Look at me.” George exhaled exasperatedly when his bandmate found the table’s surface between them more interesting than him. “Ye didn’t cause ‘im to trip. It was the bloody cables on the stage being places they shouldn’t have been, ye idiot.” George mentally patted his own shoulder when John finally looked up and met his gaze again. “If ye really think ye winkin’ at Paulie would cause ‘im to trip already, well. You really overestimate yerself.”

John swatted at George’s arm as his friend snorted in amusement, missing him as George had seen that reaction coming from a mile away. “Wait here, will ye?” George was still smiling when he stood up and disappeared for a minute, returning to their table with two steaming cups of tea. He set one cup down in front of John and the other in front of himself, immediately putting a sugar cube into his cup and starting to stir it with his tea spoon. “They didn’t have yer favourite, but-“

“Thank you, George.” The sudden statement startled George somewhat and he halted his stirring motion for only a second before a smile made its way onto his face once more. “Sure thing, mate.”

“Ye know I wouldn’t forgive meself if I ever caused ‘im any harm.” What was intended as a rhetorical question came across more as a statement of a matter of fact. George’s eyes met John’s for a silent second. “I know.” The additional I wouldn’t forgive myself if I ever caused any of you any harm was unsaid, but George heard it either way.

They drank their tea mostly in silence until Brian came outside to tell them that Paul had woken up and was conscious enough for them to be able to talk to him.

Several hours later – after a short group visit from all four of them and Brian bringing out the manager for a minute and telling Paul they’d have to cancel the last date of the tour – George and Ringo were back at the hospital again after a trip back to the hotel with Eppy. They had been told that only one person at a time was allowed to stay with Paul as he was still feeling groggy and somewhat dizzy from the painkillers he had been given and John had immediately claimed the right to be the first to stay with him.

George carefully opened the door to Paul’s room, not wanting to make much noise in case their friend was sleeping, and found that they might have trouble taking John back to the hotel with them after all. The man, while upset and angry before talking with George earlier that morning, was now sleeping peacefully, sitting in a chair next to Paul’s bed and his arms and head resting on Paul’s bedsheets. Paul himself was sleeping, too, his left hand resting atop of John’s head and his fingers buried under the strands of hair he must have been carding them through. Both of them wore soft smiles on their faces, so George only covered John with the comforter lying at the end of Paul’s bed with Ringo’s help, before they turned around and quietly left the room.

They hadn’t been earlier today, but they were going to be alright.

[murderous-coffeebean]

Sitting In A Garden

The wonderful @savoy-brown-shoe and I made a collab that resulted in two lovely Dylarrison drawings of opposite themes:

An early spring morning themed one that you can see above (for which she drew the lineart that I colored) and a late autumn afternoon themed on that you can see here (for which I drew the lineart that she colored).

I had so, so much fun doing this with you, and I’d really love to work together with you again someday!!! <3333 I hope you guys like the drawings as much as we do! <333

George Harrison & Bob Dylan © themselves art © @savoy-brown-shoe & @murderous-coffeebean