#Dark Sweet Lady

[harrisonarchive]

Photographed in 1976 and 2000, by fan Renata and Richard Young.

On September 2, 1978, George and Olivia were married.

“[In 1974] I just went on a binge, went on the road… all that sort of thing, until it got to the point where I had no voice and almost no body at times. Then I met Olivia and it all worked out fine. There’s a song on the new album, ‘Dark Sweet Lady’: ‘You came and helped me through/When I’d let go/You came from out the blue/Never have known what I’d done without you.’ That sums it up.” - George Harrison, Rolling Stone, April 19, 1979 “[Olivia] supported him in all his business endeavors, looked after him during his illness, stood by his side whenever he needed her, and also gave him the freedom he so desperately required. And all inconspicuously in the background, without pushing into the spotlight.” - Klaus Voormann, translated from Warum spielst du Imagine nicht auf dem weißen Klavier, John? “Olivia had the hardest job in the world, because she loved George more than all of us, and she really took care of him and cleared the path in front of him, behind him, and inherited that crazy life, you know.” - Tom Petty, Rolling Stone, January 17, 2002 “Olivia says that, towards the end, when he knew he was dying, her husband would comfort her by saying: ‘Olivia, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.’ And is she? ‘Fine is OK, but it is not really good enough, is it? But George was right, I am fine and I am OK, although I will miss him until my dying day. But he walked his road and now I have to walk mine.’” - The Telegraph, January 24, 2005 Q: “You have put forth some very intimate moments [in Came The Lightening], like in ‘Without Hummingbirds,’ where you say, ‘My hair like a vine curled around your finger as we lay face to face.’” Olivia Harrison: “George would always say something completely off the wall in all those little sweet little moments. I wanted to share those moments in that poem. I was very guarded all my life, and guarded in my life with George, very guarded. Now, I’m liberated from that. He’s not here, and it’s like humanizing him and humanizing us. I want to show people how treasured George was by me.” - SPIN, June 2022

[illustratinghan]

"Read that book," Tessa said with a faint smile.

"Saw that movie," returned Kit.

tessa and kit’s movie night together 🍿 the two of them now have a little routine going - seven days to read the book and then at the end of each week they watch the movie together!

characters by @cassandraclare 🤍

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

Julian Blackthorn’s constant awareness of his siblings is both so heartwarming and so heartbreaking to read

[random-lil-illing]

okay so ive decided im not going to do a while 'fake tweets' post for every episode, maximum 3 tweets per episode unless its an episode that has a lot going on, or just one i really like/think twitter would have a lot to say about.

for anyone confused which tweet is for which episode, let me explain :)

image 1: fishy doubloon caper

images 2, 3, and 4: opera in the outback caper

images 5 and 6: chasing paper caper

images 7 and 8: lucky cat caper

images 9 and 10: french connection caper

which means season 1 is done!! cant wait for season 2 :)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[dravencroft]

Grandmother Esther, my friend's latest Vampire: the Masquerade character for a one-shot session we played a couple of days ago. She is just a sweet, quiet blind old lady who speaks with ghosts and... eats flesh.

[ginstermoff]

I haven't even finished act I. yet and I'm already in love with all of my companions help me

Baldur's Gate is a game

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

okay sorry for the confusion yes he is. but he doesn’t wanna be

imagine if you got your brain stripped out but you had a magic failsafe in place so I guess instead of turning into a mindless drone you just reverted back into your child self And managed to stick around in your original form as a spectre so you could yell at your child self anytime your child self didn’t meet your expectations or do as good as they needed to to be as successful in life as you were.

that’s what’s going on. as far as I understand it and the jury’s still out on the details given the fact that no one else who got the same brain-wipe seems to be nearly as coherent and capable as him nor did they turn into actual children like he did. baby pep doesn’t like getting yelled at all the time and is being raised in a very different environment than original pep was so he’s not the same person emotionally but he’s basically just. if peps had to start over from babyhood, but with his adult self looking over him criticizing his every move to his face and his moms are all settled down together and domestic instead of volatile and mid break-up

[harrisonarchive]

On the cover of Muziek Expres, 1974.

“[T]he pressure I got under that year [1974] was ridiculous. I went through so many things: produced two other albums, Shankar Family and Friends, and The Place I Love by Splinter. And I produced an Indian musical festival, which had taken me years to get together, with 15 or 16 classical Indian musicians all playing ensemble, like an orchestra—which they never do. In India you see solo players or two performers with a tabla player. In 1974 I went to India, got them all together, they came to Europe, Ravi wrote all the material. It rocked. Then came my own album and this tour I had lined up. And I also met my wife [Olivia] around then. I wrote the song ‘Dark Horse’ in the studio with Ringo and [Jim] Keltner and I never got to finish it. I took this half-finished album with me to tour rehearsals in Los Angeles and got my voice blown out by singing all day long.” - George Harrison, Musician, November 1987 Q: “You met your wife, Olivia, at the end of what seems to have been a pretty low period for you personally – 1974.” George Harrison: “Yeah, well after I split up from Patti[e] [Boyd], I went on a bit of a bender to make up for all the years I’d been married. If you listen to ‘Simply Shady,’ on Dark Horse, it’s all in there —my whole life at that time was a bit like [laughing] Mrs. Dale’s Diary [a now defunct British radio soap opera].” Q: “Were you going down fast?” GH: “Well, I wasn’t ready to join Alcoholics Anonymous or anything — I don’t think I was that far gone — but I could put back a bottle of brandy occasionally, plus all the other naughty things that fly around. I just went on a binge, went on the road... all that sort of thing, until it got to the point where I had no voice and almost no body at times. Then I met Olivia and it all worked out fine. There’s a song on the new album, ‘Dark Sweet Lady’: ‘You came and helped me through/When I’d let go/You came from out the blue/Never have known what I’d done without you.’ That sums it up.” - Rolling Stone, April 19, 1979 (x)

[chowpatty-ka-icebear]

Tum laate hoge apne sanam ke liye chaand aur taare... Meri Chaand-Si-Mehbooba toh mujhe din mein he taare dikha deti hai...

My lady really is a sweetheart bas gussa mat dilaya karo usko... @wizardcherryblossom 😂❤️

[wurmwizzard]

I went to a little pottery festival in a small town close to mine this morning, and I obviously understand I'm a visually alt/queer looking person living in the deep south. Yes. I get that. But the whole time I felt like a horrible fart everyone was desperately trying to pretend they didn't smell. I had a lovely conversation with a Spanish lady I bought a mug from, but many of the vendors desperately avoided my eye contact, and a few flat out ignored me. Which is baffling, do you even want my money?? my scary gay money?

[sheyri]

Fun with lifeless NPCs - a collection

First up, the cuddle picture that Nico made me show around at book fair last year

The sequel

The love interest meeting the Prophetess's family (excluding Daddy because Daddy sucks is too busy demanding a nice crisp piece of meat)

Some ... erotic ... implications

The aftermath of The Incident when Loreena got bored waiting for the Father

And of course we can't forget Mithy

[moonchild-in-blue]

Oh mother, tell your children Not to do what I have done Spend your lives in sin and misery In the house of The Rising Sun

[idolsummons]

good morning? has been lurking i have a steampunk au now but i'm not writing anything up yet it needs more thought to be fully fleshed out i think plus me who equates steampunk w/ my novel now trying to not do that for the au

[sarakiz]

lots of talk in many directions about the team event but never enough about this