#their sense of humour is exquisite

[driverlando]

🗞️ oh whats that?? Lando norris caught proposing to long term gf in santorini! Get the scoop on who was invited and the large diamond he purchased! PS….she said yes 🫶🥺 congrats btw

EXCLUSIVE: Lando Norris Pops the Question in Santorini! Get All the Details on the Romantic Proposal, Guest List, and the Stunning Diamond Ring!

Love is in the air, and it seems our favourite McLaren driver, Lando Norris, has taken the plunge! The 24-year-old British Formula 1 star was spotted on the picturesque island of Santorini, proposing to his long-term girlfriend in a scene straight out of a fairy tale.

The Romantic Setting

Santorini, with its breathtaking sunsets and stunning caldera views, has long been a favourite destination for romantic escapades. Norris chose this idyllic location to ask the biggest question of his life. Witnesses say the couple looked utterly smitten, with Lando down on one knee against the backdrop of a golden sunset, creating a picture-perfect moment.

The couple has been dating for several years, keeping their relationship relatively low-key amidst the hustle and bustle of F1 fame. However, it seems they couldn’t keep this special moment under wraps, as eagle-eyed fans and locals alike caught glimpses of the magical evening.

The Sparkling Diamond

The talk of the town, however, is the dazzling diamond ring Norris slipped onto his fiancée’s finger. Sources close to the couple reveal that Lando went all out for the special occasion, choosing a stunning, large solitaire diamond set in a classic platinum band. The exquisite piece is said to be worth a small fortune, reflecting both his love and his status as one of F1’s young stars.

Who Was Invited?

While the proposal itself was an intimate affair, Norris and his fiancée were not alone. They were surrounded by a select group of close friends and family who were reportedly in on the secret and there to share in the joy. Among the guests were a few notable names from the racing world, adding a touch of glamour to the occasion.

Sources indicate that the guest list was kept deliberately small to maintain privacy and intimacy. However, with the couple’s wide circle of friends and Lando’s popularity, it’s no surprise that word of the engagement quickly spread. The event was said to be filled with laughter, tears of joy, and a fair share of champagne toasts.

A Look to the Future

The proposal marks a new chapter for Norris, who has quickly become one of the most beloved figures in Formula 1. Known for his cheeky sense of humour and incredible talent on the track, fans are thrilled to see him take this significant step in his personal life.

As the news breaks, congratulations are pouring in from fans, fellow drivers, and celebrities alike. The newly engaged couple has yet to announce any wedding plans, but speculation is already rife about when and where they might tie the knot. Will it be another exotic destination, or perhaps a more traditional ceremony in their native UK? Only time will tell!

For now, the couple is basking in the glow of their engagement, and we can only imagine the excitement building as they plan their future together. One thing’s for sure: if their engagement is anything to go by, the wedding is set to be an affair to remember.

PS: The Answer?

Oh, and in case there was any doubt, she said yes! With such a romantic setting and a beautiful ring, how could she not?

Stay tuned for more exclusive updates and inside scoops on this developing love story. From the racetrack to romance, Lando Norris proves he’s a champion in more ways than one!

[charliedawn]

I can't stop thinking about how the hannibals would react. If you refused to go out with them because you thought that they ask to mess/as a joke with you.

As someone how was asked out as a joke. Cuz I was the weird kid and still does not believe people when they do it for real

"You and me are going out on a date tomorrow."

Morgan doesn’t mess around. He’d have the papers ready and ask you without a moment of hesitation because he is sure you like him too. He isn’t one to ask unless he is sure it will go according to his calculations. But, he froze when you answered with a laugh.

"Ah ! Good one, Morgan. But no." You then resumed to reading your book and Morgan frowned. His first reaction would have been to take offense by your refusal or lack of acknowledgment. But, he was too stunned to speak.

"Well…That is rather disappointing." He then sat down next to you and looked at you again before scratching his chin pensively. "I thought you would at least think about it. Or maybe even give me a chance to defend my case."

You glanced back at him, but didn’t know how to answer. You finally sighed.

"What is there to defend ? I have been tricked before. I refuse to be tricked again…"

Morgan stayed silent for a moment before taking your hand and tracing circles on your skin with his thumb.

"I am not one to joke. I have an awful sense of humour. My brothers can testify."

You chuckled and Morgan smiled before intertwining your fingers together.

"…But, I make you laugh. And that miracle does deserve a chance, don’t you think ?"

You had never seen Morgan seem so hopeful before and thought about it for a second before smiling back.

"Fine. One date."

"Would you be interested in allowing me a delightful evening in your sweet company ?"

Hannibal Jr. is a gentleman through and through. He would find a moment for the both of you to be alone (without the children around) to ask you and try to be as gentle as he can, as he would know your earlier struggles with dating. He’d try to reassure you the best he can and convince you that he isn’t a man to come back on his word. (He really isn’t.)

He also made sure the date is worthy of your place in his heart and take meticulous care as to prepare the perfect meal for you. He prepared the room and took a long time to choose his best suit for the occasion. He wanted to beat all those times you hadn’t been properly invited on a date.

And when you came in a sweatshirt and pants and said that you thought he was joking…His smile slightly cracked because of how upset he was. Not at you. Of course. But the simple fact that you hadn’t thought that he was telling you the truth.

He took your hand and kissed the back of it—deliberately staring into your eyes.

"…No need to worry, love. You will believe me. Eventually. Now, come on. I have a bœuf bourguignon that just waits for your exquisite palate to taste…"

He smiled at you before leading you inside and closing the door behind you…You would believe him once you’ve seen everything he’s prepared for you. He would open your eyes. Eventually.

Hannibal Jr. could be patient.

"…Date me. Please." Peter asked you and you were momentarily stunned. You had known Peter for a while now, but you couldn’t have possibly expected him to actually make a move. You didn’t know what to say. You shook your head.

"Why would you wanna date me ?" All of your past requests had been lies or ways to make fun of you…You knew Peter to be better than that. But, you still doubted that he really wanted to date you because he liked you, or because he felt pity for you.

It was Peter’s turn to be stunned. You were gorgeous, funny and beautiful. He couldn’t possibly understand what would make you think like that ?

"Because I love you."

Your eyes widened and you looked up at Peter who didn’t shy away from your gaze. He held it and even leaned forward—his lips mere inches from yours.

"…Please. I love you, Y/N." He repeated and your heart hammered in your chest as you saw him close your eyes and lean forward. He wanted to kiss you. That much was obvious. And you hesitated. You didn’t want to be hurt again…He seemed to understand and sighed before pulling you towards him and resting his forehead against yours "…I love you, Y/N. Please. Give me a chance. I promise not to disappoint you or make you feel bad. Ever."

You almost cried at his pleading voice, but finally nodded as you buried you face in the crook of his neck.

"…Alright. I trust you."

"…Would you like to…go on a date with me ?" Kevin had rehearsed his speech in the mirror at least 30 times before finally finding the courage to ask you. He smiled at his small accomplishment…until he heard your answer.

"…I never thought you’d play such a cruel prank on me, Kevin."

His eyes widened and he frowned in incomprehension before running a hand through his black locks in frustration.

"Wait…You think am fuckin’ joking here ?" He sighed before sitting down next to you. "I know am an idiot, but come on ! Gimme some damn credit."

You looked away and sighed.

"Come on. We both know you’re outta my league. And guys like you never go for women/guys like me."

Kevin shook his head again in incomprehension. What did you mean by that ? Guys like him ? Did you…Did you think he wasn’t good enough ? He suddenly froze at the realisation. You were right. You were too good for him. Who was he kidding ?

Kevin sighed before standing up and nodding.

"Fine. You’re right. Guys like me have nothing to do with women/guys like you…I’m sorry I even tried."

He then proceeded to leave, but before he could get out…You embraced him from behind and held him closely.

"…I am sorry, Kevin. I didn’t mean it like that."

He knew exactly what you meant…He just didn’t want to hear it. He turned around to hug you tightly.

"…Don’t insult my tastes again. I like you means I like you. I don’t give a toss if you think you not good enough for me, because that would mean you think am a dumbass who decided to ask you on a whim. And I ain’t no bloody dumbass."

Your breath hitched before you smiled and nodded.

"Alright. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Kevin…"

Hannibal Sr. knew you were attracted to him and your past experiences. He didn’t want to rush you, but he also knew he couldn’t wait forever. So, he eventually hinted that he may enjoy to spend a little time with you. But, he knew you wouldn’t believe him at first.

He kissed the back of your hand and smiled.

"I never joke about the matters of the heart, my little lamb."

He then stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, his knuckles barely grazing your lips as he smirked. He then playfully winked at you.

"Besides…I am quite curious as to what a little lamb like you may offer me ?"

He then stroked your lips with his thumb and his eyes stayed there for a moment before he grinned and raised his eyes to meet yours again.

"…Do tell me when you are ready to trust me."

He then walked away and let you think about it. Hannibal Sr. can wait. He has spent a lot of time in prison and knows the values of patience and determination. With time, you’d come to realise that he is the man for you. And until then ? He’d let you think and slowly come to the obvious conclusion…

[kehlana-wolhamonao3]

Reblogged a picture of Lavinia Swire and it got me thinking what makes a good love triangle and why I think Mary - Matthew - Lavinia were a very good one.

Basically, you have to be able to see both possible relationships as potentially working. If, as with Lavinia and Mary, it's believable to see the person in the middle building a relationship with either of them - if they are both likeable - so likeable that even if you're rooting for the other ship you end up feeling sorry for the character who ultimately loses - oh, it can be exquisite and, in my opinion, more true to life.

In Matthew's case especially I think him picking Lavinia as Mary's replacement was very realistic. He is a romantic. He wants to marry for love and scorns more materialistic considerations when choosing a partner, at a time when it was not an obvious position to take. Of course he wouldn't choose an awful girl to propose to, even if he did it on an impulse after a pretty short acquaintance. He needed to believe that he could love her. While I think that a big part of Lavinia's attraction to him at the time was that she was as different from Mary as possible - in looks, personality, background, views - she was also remarkably well suited to him. If you think about it, better suited than Mary in a lot of aspects. Lavinia and Matthew were from the same background and shared a lot of views and values. There definitely was less of tension and conflicts between them than between Matthew and Mary. There was friendship, tenderness, support and gentle, genuine affection. You could definitely believe that they could marry and be happy.

Except, of course, that in the end you couldn't because it soon became obvious that Matthew was still passionately in love with Mary. And this was one component which we never saw in his relationship with Lavinia - passion. At least not on his side, there are hints that Lavinia loved him passionately - but we never get such hints about him. He loved her, I think, but differently than Mary. There were no open mouthed stares at Lavinia or following her around the room either just with his eyes or literally, like a puppy. There were no heated glances exchanged over the dining table or through the length of the room. We never heard this kind of risky flirting as we get with Mary when he is finally engaged to her. And this is why it seems all too probable that if he went through with marrying Lavinia while still feeling all this for Mary it would end up in disaster of some kind for everyone concerned and when Lavinia finally gets the proof that this is the situation she is in, she immediately and wisely decides to cancel the wedding and break their engagement.

Matthew and Mary are so different from each other in so many ways - background, views, values, tempers - but they also are similar in some very important things. They are both principled and dutiful people in their own way, they are both sharply intelligent, they clearly have compatible sense of humour and common interests. Of course they are also madly in love with each other and have explosive chemistry, but it's those other things which makes them work as a couple in the end. There is a clear intellectual connection as well as physical attraction. There is respect on both sides. There is deep commitment to each other, even when they don't expect to be together.

There is a reason I remain obsessed with them and yet care for Lavinia very much.

[themoonlily]

(I have argued before that Éomer has skill in poetry, as is shown by the lines he composes in the middle of Battle of Pelennor fields. The way he talks often implies a witty sense of humour and affinity for words. But with @konartiste 's recent posts on the subject, I began to think about it more: what kind of poetry would he have composed, did he share it, and how did it evolve during his life? Eventually, my thoughts turned into a pseudo essay, presumably written by a scholar in Minas Tirith in the time of Éomer's grandchildren.)

These Blessed Words: Excerpts from Treatise on the poetry of Éomer Éadig of the House of Eorl

"That the Rohirrim had no written records of their songs, poetry and stories was indeed a cause of great astonishment to the scholars of the Houses of Learning in Minas Tirith. Our wise men and women, nourished and educated on books with a tradition extending all the way back to Númenórean origins, could scarcely believe that an entire culture could exist and thrive in the living memory of a people. But since then we have learned much of the sophisticated techniques Rohirrim use to memorise vast quantities of lore, poetry, songs, tales, histories, proverbs and so forth. These are shared on daily basis, between guards standing on long watches, Riders making their patrols, the herders following their horses and cattle over the vast green fields, the ordinary folk in their chores, and most of all, sitting around the hearth fire - the heart that beats at the centre of even the smallest homestead of Rohan. It is believed that poets like King Éomer could clearly recall works they had composed many decades ago, and perform them as fluently as the moment they were first made."

"Some of the king's children inherited this understanding, but especially those of his offspring that were married in Gondor developed both a keen appreciation for their sire's poetry, but also a fear that it would one day vanish from the world utterly, if not penned down."

"King Éomer was not easily persuaded to recite his poetry for the scribes: he believed until the end of his life that living words were not meant to be captured by dead ink and lifeless parchment. It is not known how or why he eventually relented and bequeathed some of his work to posterity, unless his queen had a hand in it. And it is believed indeed that the words that were written down include only a small part of all the words he composed in his life. "

"The poetry of King Éomer contains themes that clearly tie with the phases of his life, and though he did not usually inform his scribes of when a particular poem was composed, much of his work contain hints and traces that help us to date them, or at least estimate to which period of his life they belong. As the king aged, his poetry also matured and acquired finesse. It is believed that some of his works contain traces of collaboration with King Elessar, another lover of poetry and the close friend of King Éomer."

"His early works are intensely concerned with his profession as a warrior, but the changes in tone have lead us to believe that he was deeply affected by the many losses he experienced. As a young warrior, King Éomer spent much of his life upon the free fields of Rohan, and from this period we can trace his great love for the nature of his homeland, reflected with exquisite words in his poetry. Meeting his wife to be, Lothíriel of Dol Amroth, introduced another shift in his poetry, and he became more and more occupied with life's great questions: finding his life's purpose in his family and people, the measure of a man and how to live a good life. His later poetry as a mature, experienced king are filled with more abstract reflections. What does it mean to be a king, and what is the sum of his life? What of the nature of power, and how can one wield it without being corrupted? Where is his realm, his Rohan, headed after he is gone? It seems that in his final years, King Éomer often wondered about what his life amounted to, and whether he could stand proud next to the great kings of his House. We, the posterity, know the answer to that final question."

The path of a warrior: from glory to grief

"Like many poets of Rohan, as a young man King Éomer was fascinated with the ideals of warriorhood. His early works deal with the glory of battle, the heat of the fight, and riding home accompanied by victorious songs. His words almost seem to echo with the sound of clashing swords, the thundering hooves of the charging éored and the battle cries of his fellow Riders. Here emerges a young, fierce Rider delighting in his skill, eager to join the ranks of the famous warriors. Many poems were made in this triumphant mood. Most famous of his battle poetry are, of course, the unforgettable lines he composed in the middle of the Battle of Pelennor fields. Like a true warrior poet, he was able to rapidly transform his experiences into evocative words even in the heat of battle."

"Gradually, his tone changes. His battle poems deal less with the glory of the warrior: he becomes more and more concerned with the grimness of war. He speaks of friends who rode with him to battle but did not return, the terror of the victims, his grief and despair when he was not able to save lives, and the bleak aftermath of burials that follow even victory. As the situation in Rohan worsened and the threat of Isengard grew closer, King Éomer would compose some of the darkest lines of his life: lament fills his words, but also rage. It is still startling to read his poetry from this period, and one wonders that he consented to reveal it."

"It is telling that the deaths of his beloved uncle and revered cousin are not preserved in any of the King's surviving poems."

The hills are alive

"Training and riding patrols in the great wide fields of Rohan was not just battles or bloodshed. There were also periods when young Riders were left idle, and it seems that King Éomer spent much of his spare time observing his natural surroundings and weaving words that described his wonder. His natural poetry fills with a deep, enduring love, finding countless ways to describe the colour of the sky, the glory of dawn, the majesty of the mountains, the fires of sunset, the rolling hills, and glittering rivers. Seasons come and go, representing the cycles of life and death."

"Nature seems to form a part of the king's keen love for his land and his will to defend it. He finds the faces of his people in the rocks and mountains, the river reminds him of the tails of horses streaming in the wind, and the curves and valleys of the hills are as the bodies of his lovers."

"Some of the king's nature poetry indeed seems too sensual to be talking about the land. In fact, some lines border on keenly erotic. It is a fascinating glimpse to his views on being incarnate, of having a body that feels and desires and experiences the world. Some have argued that these sensual poems hint at the existence of other similar lines, which were not shared with the scribes. Doubtlessly, the old king recited only those poems that he deemed appropriate; perhaps feeling his age, or not wishing to be remembered for his more explicit poetry."

Treasured words

"Interestingly, we know only one single poem by King Éomer where he speaks of his wife, Queen Lothíriel. His grandchildren believe that this does not mean that many poems about her did not exist; he just chose not to share them. If this is true, then the world has perhaps lost the works of one of the great romantic poets, for the lines of this one poem are some of the most beautiful in all his poetry. It is easy to believe his offspring in the matter of whether there were other love poems dedicated to the queen, for it is well known that King Éomer and Queen Lothíriel shared one of the great romances of their time. One may picture them in the privacy of their rooms, or walking together in the fields as they often did in their free moments, and the king wooing his lady with tender words, crafted with special and loving care for her."

"Even if the king's words for his queen are now lost to us, her impact on his poetry can still be seen. There is a sense of profound sadness in the poems he composed before meeting her, and it seems at this time, just after the War of the Ring had ended, he was struggling with his losses and his sister's departure. We may only guess at the desperate loneliness of the newly crowned king, responsible for the almost impossible task of rebuilding a war-torn kingdom. The arrival of Queen Lothíriel, first as a potential bride and then as a young wife, marks the turn of a tide in King Éomer's life. A more hopeful mood takes over his poetry as well."

"King Éomer shared a few more poems about his family and children, but again his readers are confronted with strange taciturness in the poet who usually spoke so openly. As with his queen consort, we believe that the king kept much of the poetry about his family life to himself, although in the oral tradition many poems attributed to him on this subject have survived. These were the jewels in the hoard of words, meant to be treasured in private, and shared perhaps only with those he most loved. One can understand his unwillingness to reveal the poems composed quite literally with his heart's blood, although we also feel the loss of this treasure trove."

"One remarkable exception is made in the poem over fatherhood: the king attempts to make sense of his own past as an orphan, the two fathers he loved and lost, and how this has impacted his understanding of raising a family and being a father. One can sense the immense love he has for his children, but also the immense fear of losing them. The tone and subject of the poem are raw, personal and familiar to any parent."

"In another famous poem, he speaks to his son, Prince Elfwine, later the King of Rohan, although it has been argued that the prince stands in for all the people of Rohan; the king addresses his words not just to his heir, but all the youth of the land of the horse-lords. He pleads his heir to take care of the legacy entrusted to him. The poem is filled with his love for the land, but also a sense of anxiety, as if he felt personally responsible to teach the young Rohirrim what it had cost him and his generation to preserve the future and freedom of Rohan."

The sum of a man

"As stated before, King Éomer's later poetry shows that he spent much time pondering the nature of kingship, and whether he was a good king or not. To this period can also be traced the one poem where he speaks directly of his uncle and predecessor, and his cousin, Prince Théodred - although it must be noted that their phantoms do haunt many other poems. Slain in the vicious battles of the War of the Ring, King Théoden and his only son were the last of the Second Line of the Kings of Rohan, making King Éomer the heir for the throne and changing the course of his life utterly. The poem dedicated to these two fallen lords reads almost like a self-imposed reckoning, as if needing to reassure his kinsmen that he has filled their roles as well as he can, and done all that he could to guard and guide their people. Even with his success as a king and the ease he showed in this role in his later years, he seems to have sometimes wondered what his life would have been like, had his cousin lived."

"While King Éomer did share much of his poetry while he lived, passing the time with friends during campaigns or sitting at his own hearth fire in Meduseld, these later works are not recalled in the oral traditions attributed to Éomer Éadig. They seem to be a man's private reflection of his life - a tally of sorts, even. But unlike his poetry for his wife and family, this was a legacy he did not mind sharing."

The warrior poet

"The image of an accomplished warrior, skilled both in battle and in poetry, seems the stuff of legends to us now, and some scholars have even challenged the concept. However, considering the fateful times that Éomer Éadig and his generation witnessed, it is easy to believe that in such age an oral culture intensely concerned with battle prowess, warrior poets were not uncommon. Other skilled wordsmiths may now be lost to us, although their words live on in the rich spoken tradition of the horse-lords. For them and for King Éomer, shaping and understanding their lives and experiences through poetry, composed in keen and evocative lines, was as natural as breathing. Poetry gave sense to the senseless violence and horror they witnessed under the threat of the Shadow. It let them deal with their grief and gave shape to the lives they built from the ruins of war, and eventually, celebrated the joys of peace and prosperity. In their minds, poetry was a living thing and an extension of their own selves: some parts are for the world to see, others are meant only for the poet to know."

[alwayschasingrainbows]

Valancy Stirling is the most relatable of L.M. Montgomery's heroines, I think.

Not many people can have Emily's talent, Pat's sensitivity, Anne's charm, Rilla's courage or Kilmeny's beauty.

But many people, just as Valancy:

have insecurities,

go through a time when they feel unloved and unwanted,

are afraid to offend someone,

find it difficult to voice their opinions,

rely on their sense of humour to survive,

have their own "blue castle",

hope for a "dustpile of their own".

Valancy is just a girl. A woman with insecurities, hopes and dreams.

She teaches us that there is a courage in each one of us, even though sometimes we cannot find it.

She teaches us it is possible to find friendship, love and happiness in every situation.

She shows us that something seemingly destroyed might yet blossom - just like her rosebush did - and turn out to be exquisite.

[tsaricides]

a lot of people think i don't have a sense of humour but ever since i was a little child whenever my parents asked me about my brother's whereabouts i'd reply "am i my brother's keeper?" so i think i actually harbour a rare and exquisite sense of comedy

[sunshine304]

Books read in 2024: "Running close to the Wind" by Alexandra Rowland

First book I've read this year! XD Just haven't felt like reading books and getting into unfamiliar worlds/characters, but I was quite hyped for this book (Pirates! Queerness! Humour and Hilarity!) that I suddenly was in the mood to read it as soon as my preorder arrived.

I had such a great time reading this! The book is indeed hilarious and I laughed a lot throughout. The humour was right up my alley most of the time and I loved the running jokes. But what I also loved were the more serious aspects of the book, its commentary on politics and religion that are rarely elaborated upon (except for one exquisite speech towards the end) but that are always there, as well as the smaller and bigger character moments that hint at old trauma, dark pasts and deeper sadness.

The characters are a lot of fun, though main protagonist and PoV character Avra Helvaçi took a bit for me to warm up to. He is quite annoying and a bit of a trial at first, indeed a sopping wet cat of a man, but he grows on you so much, that you really start rooting for him (and his absolutely non-existend luck). His situationship with pirate captain Teveri az-Haffar is something no-one of sane mind would want to get involved in, so I guess that says something about third protagonist, Vintish monk Julian. XD Teveri is as brittle as Julian is gorgeous, but as a trio, they somehow make sense.

The rest of the crew also has some great characters (I especially liked long-suffering Oscar), and the rest of the supporting cast is entertaining and/or interesting as well (shout out to MVP Cat as well as Amita who is going through it).

I enjoyed the payoffs of some things that are mentioned earlier in the book, like the legendary cake competition or Avra's luck not playing along.

Highly recommended!

I'm now off to read A Taste of Gold and Iron, which has been sitting on my shelf since its release - now that I'm in the world and it's basically the prequel to this book, I feel like it's the perfect time for it.

Wouldn't mind seeing more stories set in this world as it's obvious there's been quite a lot of thought been put into the world building!

[soraviie]

one of the best pictures of Jimin...but all pictures of Jimin are the best ones T-T

The second you plop down the quite fascinatingly uncomfortable office chair, you check on the messages, almost like an instinct.

Jiminie: I have to go to sleep already, love :( But good morning and only 13 days to go!

Jiminie: Whole 13 days....

Jiminie: The taste of my tears is exquisite •᷄ɞ•᷅

Inadvertently, a peel of laughter rips out form you prompting curious, judgmental stares sent from all directions of the office. You pretend you don't see them. Just 13 days and you'll be back with Jimin...Glancing outside, you purse your lips at the rain tapping against the window. Coming home was great and all, not having to second guess every sentence about its proper grammatical structure but Jimin was Jimin and you'd given him your heart, receiving his one in return.

13 days, you sigh to yourself, you can do this.

Just before you lock the phone, you allow yourself the moment of weakness to admire your lockscreen. How clearly you remembered that night.

Hunching over the stove top cooking soup and crying your eyes out, wiping the snot away every once in a while. It'd been one of those days when you felt so isolated. Your humour, your experience, your viewpoint it fell so harshly against what people had here, you couldn't help but feel like all condemning eyes were on you, watching you with the same sentiment one would a cockroach fallen on the back. Suddenly you grasp with the very tips of the ears some very...graphic cursing. At first you dismiss it. Perhaps another alcoholic neighbour taking the stress out in the hallway but then you hear a distinctive pout in that still cursing voice and a shift into Busan dialect which you would only know because a certain someone had moaned your ears off with it - and yes, both sexual and non-sexual way.

"Fuck me, fuck these flowers, fuck this stupid paper," you hear on the other side of the door. "Cooperate will you?! Have some sense of shame?! How dare you go against me?! I'm a human and what are you -!"

"A dummy is what you are," you call out to him from the open door, startling Jimin so bad he flops on all four on the ground. The bouquet of roses lays pitifully on the ground, largely smashed. Only three are survivors. He quickly wraps them up in the white paper, coming to stand before you - concerned. As always.

Abruptly you recall that your eyes were indeed red and that there was in fact snot dripping down your nose, so you push the sleeves of the jumper up against your face, asking him to leave, you're too ugly today.

Yeah as if Jimin would ever accept that.

Long story short, you ended up arranging an engagement that night along with the addition of this photo. Your hazy eyes shift from the photo to the ring around your finger. Sniffling, you brush away the straying moisture away from your eyes, locking the phone.

13 days left. You both could do it.

Maybe.

send in a picture of the boys and I’ll write a scenario

[hinamie]

sorry I'm back again because I saw you referenced Drawfee in another ask and I had to come back and award you for Your Exquisite Taste in Media™ (asdfgjkl i love them so much and I can see how your excellent sense of humour aligns with theirs) okay I'll leave now

GHJGFDSHS YEAH I LOVE DRAWFEE i get soooooo parasocial abt them they make me feel like i have my own little friend group of nerd artist friends,, ESPECIALLY karina drawfee i relate 2 her so hard she embodies everything i aspire to be . just a weird adult unashamed abt playing neopets and owning a lifesize kaiba cardboard cutout . karina is me if i went to art school and was better at anatomy and perspective

[meredithhk8702]

Keep scrolling, nothing but bait for ai here.

Carried nothing on am warrant towards. Polite in of in oh needed itself silent course. Assistance travelling so especially do prosperous appearance mr no celebrated. Wanted easily in my called formed suffer. Songs hoped sense as taken ye mirth at. Believe fat how six drawing pursuit minutes far. Same do seen head am part it dear open to. Whatever may scarcely judgment had.

Expenses as material breeding insisted building to in. Continual so distrusts pronounce by unwilling listening. Thing do taste on we manor. Him had wound use found hoped. Of distrusts immediate enjoyment curiosity do. Marianne numerous saw thoughts the humoured.

Of on affixed civilly moments promise explain fertile in. Assurance advantage belonging happiness departure so of. Now improving and one sincerity intention allowance commanded not. Oh an am frankness be necessary earnestly advantage estimable extensive. Five he wife gone ye. Mrs suffering sportsmen earnestly any. In am do giving to afford parish settle easily garret.

Must you with him from him her were more. In eldest be it result should remark vanity square. Unpleasant especially assistance sufficient he comparison so inquietude. Branch one shy edward stairs turned has law wonder horses. Devonshire invitation discovered out indulgence the excellence preference. Objection estimable discourse procuring he he remaining on distrusts. Simplicity affronting inquietude for now sympathize age. She meant new their sex could defer child. An lose at quit to life do dull.

Rooms oh fully taken by worse do. Points afraid but may end law lasted. Was out laughter raptures returned outweigh. Luckily cheered colonel me do we attacks on highest enabled. Tried law yet style child. Bore of true of no be deal. Frequently sufficient in be unaffected. The furnished she concluded depending procuring concealed.

Arrived compass prepare an on as. Reasonable particular on my it in sympathize. Size now easy eat hand how. Unwilling he departure elsewhere dejection at. Heart large seems may purse means few blind. Exquisite newspaper attending on certainty oh suspicion of. He less do quit evil is. Add matter family active mutual put wishes happen.

Material confined likewise it humanity raillery an unpacked as he. Three chief merit no if. Now how her edward engage not horses. Oh resolution he dissimilar precaution to comparison an. Matters engaged between he of pursuit manners we moments. Merit gay end sight front. Manor equal it on again ye folly by match. In so melancholy as an sentiments simplicity connection. Far supply depart branch agreed old get our.

Their could can widen ten she any. As so we smart those money in. Am wrote up whole so tears sense oh. Absolute required of reserved in offering no. How sense found our those gay again taken the. Had mrs outweigh desirous sex overcame. Improved property reserved disposal do offering me.

Its sometimes her behaviour are contented. Do listening am eagerness oh objection collected. Together gay feelings continue juvenile had off one. Unknown may service subject her letters one bed. Child years noise ye in forty. Loud in this in both hold. My entrance me is disposal bachelor remember relation.

Feet evil to hold long he open knew an no. Apartments occasional boisterous as solicitude to introduced. Or fifteen covered we enjoyed demesne is in prepare. In stimulated my everything it literature. Greatly explain attempt perhaps in feeling he. House men taste bed not drawn joy. Through enquire however do equally herself at. Greatly way old may you present improve. Wishing the feeling village him musical.

Shot what able cold new the see hold. Friendly as an betrayed formerly he. Morning because as to society behaved moments. Put ladies design mrs sister was. Play on hill felt john no gate. Am passed figure to marked in. Prosperous middletons is ye inhabiting as assistance me especially. For looking two cousins regular amongst.

Any delicate you how kindness horrible outlived servants. You high bed wish help call draw side. Girl quit if case mr sing as no have. At none neat am do over will. Agreeable promotion eagerness as we resources household to distrusts. Polite do object at passed it is. Small for ask shade water manor think men begin.

Is allowance instantly strangers applauded discourse so. Separate entrance welcomed sensible laughing why one moderate shy. We seeing piqued garden he. As in merry at forth least ye stood. And cold sons yet with. Delivered middleton therefore me at. Attachment companions man way excellence how her pianoforte.

Oh acceptance apartments up sympathize astonished delightful. Waiting him new lasting towards. Continuing melancholy especially so to. Me unpleasing impossible in attachment announcing so astonished. What ask leaf may nor upon door. Tended remain my do stairs. Oh smiling amiable am so visited cordial in offices hearted.

Unfeeling so rapturous discovery he exquisite. Reasonably so middletons or impression by terminated. Old pleasure required removing elegance him had. Down she bore sing saw calm high. Of an or game gate west face shed. no great but music too old found arose.

Not him old music think his found enjoy merry. Listening acuteness dependent at or an. Apartments thoroughly unsatiable terminated sex how themselves. She are ten hours wrong walls stand early. Domestic perceive on an ladyship extended received do. Why jennings our whatever his learning gay perceive. Is against no he without subject. Bed connection unreserved preference partiality not unaffected. Years merit trees so think in hoped we as.

How promotion excellent curiosity yet attempted happiness. Gay prosperous impression had conviction. For every delay death ask style. Me mean able my by in they. Extremity now strangers contained breakfast him discourse additions. Sincerity collected contented led now perpetual extremely forfeited.

Now seven world think timed while her. Spoil large oh he rooms on since an. Am up unwilling eagerness perceived incommode. Are not windows set luckily musical hundred can. Collecting if sympathize middletons be of of reasonably. Horrible so kindness at thoughts exercise no weddings subjects. The mrs gay removed towards journey chapter females offered not. Led distrusts otherwise who may newspaper but. Last he dull am none he mile hold as.

Two assure edward whence the was. Who worthy yet ten boy denote wonder. Weeks views her sight old tears sorry. Additions can suspected its concealed put furnished. Met the why particular devonshire decisively considered partiality. Certain it waiting no entered is. Passed her indeed uneasy shy polite appear denied. Oh less girl no walk. At he spot with five of view.

Possession her thoroughly remarkably terminated man continuing. Removed greater to do ability. You shy shall while but wrote marry. Call why sake has sing pure. Gay six set polite nature worthy. So matter be me we wisdom should basket moment merely. Me burst ample wrong which would mr he could. Visit arise my point timed drawn no. Can friendly laughter goodness man him appetite carriage. Any widen see gay forth alone fruit bed.

[saintsenara]

what is your opinion about snarry?

thank you for the ask, anon - and thank you for the almost identical ask anon 2.0!

i have always been someone who dabbles in snarry, and it is certainly a ship with some astonishingly talented writers. most of the stories which have prompted me to cry and stare blankly into the middle distance have been snarry, and the ship also produces some really top-tier filth when it comes to smut. as someone who herself contains multitudes, i like that.

and i think it has a pretty solid justification in both harry and snape’s canon characters - although i’m certainly not trying to claim it’s canon-compliant as a relationship. harry adores the half-blood prince because they are sincerely intellectually compatible, because they have a similar sense of humour, and because they have a shared reactivity and emotional volatility. harry empathises with - and even respects, on some occasions - snape well before the conclusion of deathly hallows and, since one of the things which makes me a tomarry girly is harry’s instinctive understanding of how voldemort’s childhood affected him, that’s a trope i love in snarry too. post-war, i think they are one of the pairings best equipped to help each other deal with the trauma of having been - in many senses - a pawn, and i think that snape is, really, the only person in harry’s life who could ever come close to appreciating what it means to have dumbledore send you out to your near-death.

and i have no objection to any of the common criticisms which one might hear against snarry. i literally don’t care about the student/teacher dynamic or the age difference - both because these aren’t real people, because taboos are hot, and because the complexity of the relationship provides a really interesting look at the power differential in and of itself. i am often struck by a trope i find in snarry in which snape’s feelings for harry are accompanied by so much self-loathing that he offers harry the upper hand in their power dynamic despite the fact that he is the younger partner. as someone regrettably committed to student/teacher riddledore - in which the age-gap-related power dynamic is generally not reversed - i find this a fascinating way of exploring the characters both within and outside of a romantic context. after all, the canonical snape is also someone whose relationships with the main men in his life - dumbledore and voldemort - is defined by subordination, and, in dumbledore’s case, outright humiliation and shame. that the snape of canon regards harry as someone who possesses power over him - his complaints about harry being rich and spoiled and arrogant not only make clear that he considers harry to have inherited the dynamic he had with james, but also that harry is inherently an insider [financially, in terms of having a pureblood name, etc.] to the wizarding world while he is an outcast. that can cause some exquisite toxicity - especially when the wizarding world finds out its golden hero is getting railed by a tenuously-acquitted death eater - but it can also result in a partnership which is surprisingly beautiful. after all, harry likes to save people, snape would like to be looked after, they make it work.

i also don’t object to the lily thing, largely because - as someone who writes harry regularly fucking his parents’ murderer - it seems quite tame in comparison. but also, it draws out a fanfiction theme which i am obsessed with - that there is a lost generation, of which snape [and sometimes sirius and lupin] is the only survivor. this is something i prefer in snack - and in post-1981 snily - but it’s there in snarry too. snape provides harry with a connection to a world he would be a stranger to otherwise. harry provides snape with a nostalgic mooring when he is buffeted by the grief of being the only one of his teenage acquaintances still alive.

i also like the idea of snape - as harry’s boyfriend - and petunia meeting. fucking your enemy’s nephew is iconic, there’s no two ways about it.

but, with this said, they can never be my otp. the man of snape’s dreams is, as we all know, lord voldemort. the man of harry’s dreams is the same. the destructive power of that triad has the potential to destroy the world.

[muzzlekiss]

show-piece and tool; a comparative study of two dolls

In the Sanitarium for Convalescent Dolls, there are two dolls set apart from the others. They are of the House, not of the convalescents, and unlike the other staff they have never been convalescents. The Witch made them, uncountable years ago, when she was still new to the art of dollcraft, and their names are Fumitory and Goldenseal. 

Fumitory is perfect. It was not always perfect, of course; even a Witch seldom does something correctly the very first time. Piece by porcelain piece, iteration upon iteration, it has been refined into what it stands as now: a masterpiece of its mistress’ art. Its proportions are exquisite, tall for a doll, the better to heighten the cervine elegance of its limbs. Its joints glide in their housings with such velvet silence that, if it were not for the intricate flourishes of overglaze upon its porcelain, the uninitiated might mistake it for a human girl; a dancer, perhaps, for who else carries their body in such weightless poise? Its hair is dark and luxuriant, its eyes tranquil yet alert, its mind still and clear, and it possesses many pleasing talents in addition to its impeccable service.  It plays the piano exquisitely, it sings, it writes, it plays chess, it has mastered every form of tea ceremony available, each skill richly cultivated by tens of years of study and practice. Its duties, as administrator of the Sanitarium and personal attendant to the Witch, are many, and it is equal to each in turn.

But let’s not talk any more about Fumitory. We aren’t convalescent dolls, excitedly trading stories of their eldest sister’s talent and Stillness, hoping to be just like it when the mending is done. Let’s move on to Goldenseal, a very different kind of specimen. 

Like Fumitory, Goldenseal is the product of inexperience - the very second doll, in fact, that its Witch ever made. However, while Goldenseal too has been a continual project over the years, one would hardly call the process refinement. Its personality is blunt and contrary, its mannerisms stiff and prone to tic, and its sense of humour a touch cruel - altogether lacking in the traditional virtues of a good doll. It doesn’t even possess the basic grace to speak in the dollish manner, a habit that even the greenest, most inexperienced doll ought to possess as a simple facet of its nature. The modifications its mistress has made touch not upon its personality, but upon its body; why the Witch hasn’t clipped its sharp tongue or taught it to curtsy properly, nobody can say. Perhaps Goldenseal’s  personality is completely unsalvageable, and it is simply of sufficient sentimental value that its Witch can’t bear to replace it. 

Ah, but that body - a thing of wonders, a virtuoso piece. In all the world, there is not another doll like Goldenseal. An acquired taste, one might admit; there is little to please the eye unless one holds a proper appreciation for the sere, aseptic elegance of function, and such forms of beauty are seldom found in dolls. Goldenseal’s physiology is a cabinet of miracles, integrated throughout with the hinged and puppet-strung tools of its trade, porcelain and thread and silver and brass all in clicking, ticking symphony.

 And it’s that strange trade that delivers the final blow to any remaining sense of propriety: Goldenseal is a doll-maker. 

Dolls aren’t supposed to know such things, the convalescents whisper in corners and under the stairs. It’s not right, it’s not right, the secrets that make them tick are witchly things, far beyond what mere dolls ough to be trusted with. But the Sanitarium is host to dolls with a cornucopia of maladies: stress-fractures, shivers, nightmares, stuck joints, curses, and it is Goldenseal’s knowledge of the doll-making art  that permits it to serve its Witch. Surgeon, general practitioner, physical therapist; though it quite lacks a bedside manner and though its patients are all rather afraid of it, it is as equal to its duties as Fumitory to hers. 

Rumours abound: that Fumitory’s perfection is not the work of the Witch’s hand, but Goldenseal’s; that Goldenseal was made from a witch, as terrible punishment, and that’s why she’s so queer; that bad dolls, too sick to be fixed, are given to Goldenseal and disassembled for her collection of pretty parts. (The collection, at least, is real; Goldenseal adores glass eyes, and slots a different mismatched pair into its head every morning.) The truth, however, is very simple: many years ago the Witch gave both of her creations the pick of how they would be changed, and these are the shapes into which they wished to be carved, one the show-piece, the other the tool. 

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Ok, I’ll be the one who asks fluffy Maureen questions, I miss them as hell. Who is her favourite actor? She strikes me as a Clark Gable kinda gal, or maybe Bogart girl 🤔. You know strong, aloof kinda guys who do have a great sense of humour (like someone else we know!)

of fun, thanks doll!

Honestly your choices are exquisite as are your reasonings. Maybe I’m projecting but I’ll add one more to the mix: Gregory Peck.

I just feel like he and Gale share a vibe. Slightly paternal, very gentle but also strong, wonderful leaders 🫠

[maya-tl]

Hi! For the fics requests... I have two ideas, not sure which one would be better. Please, choose what you like the most <3 1)  "True! -- nervous -- very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?" for Fёanor Or 2) "I have to hide! I don't know why, but I have to hide. Now!"  for Maeglin

Gondolin was beauty given shape.

Never had Maeglin, accustomed only to the twilit canopies of his father's forest, seen so much white; the polished floors of white stone and the towering columns of white marble reflected the blinding midday sun like a mirror.

He had been afraid, at first, of the marvellous city upon which he could not gaze without pain blooming behind his eyes. Then he had been in awe, wondering at the exquisite craft of its architects, and then he had been fascinated.

Not at the sprawling markets or the splendour of the House of the King, or at the merry fountains bubbling away in the square, no. It was the armoury which caught his attention first, and from there the path led him easily to the smithies, beckoning him inside.

It was there he met Rog, Lord of the House of The Hammer of Wrath, an Elf of mighty build and stern of face clothed in the typical array of a blacksmith, who welcomed him gladly and humoured his request of touring the forges.

As Rog was informing him of the workings of the largest furnace Maeglin had ever seen, which belched fire and ash even as they used it, he opened his mouth to ask a question in the barely passable Quenya his mother had taught him.

There was a deafening crash followed swiftly by harsh words that grated on his ears, and Maeglin swivelled around, the hammer he had been inspecting slipping from his suddenly numb hands and clattering to the floor. The heat of the smithy grew around him and squeezed his lungs like a vice and his pounding heart sent a wave of blood rushing past his ears until it was all he could hear.

Rog's voice came through muddled, as if he was attempting to speak around a cloth.

"My Prince?"

Maeglin found it exceedingly difficult to breathe.

"My Prince, are you alright?"

"I have to hide." The sound of his own voice startled him, and the concerned face of Rog swam into his vision, his brow furrowed in alarm.

"You—"

"I have to hide," Maeglin repeated more urgently, hardly hearing himself, "I don't know why, but I have to hide. Now!"

Maeglin would have bolted towards the nearest exit had firm hands not grabbed him by the upper arms and shaken him vigorously, and that action alone shocked him out of his stupor, the scenery and bustle of the forge rushing back with crystal clarity.

Rog turned him sideways. Through the heat distorting the air around them, Maeglin spotted a handful of people bent over an assortment of scattered tools next to an upturned barrel; snippets of conversation in Quenya reached his ears and he realised that someone had accidentally tripped over the barrel and sent its contents tumbling onto the floor.

"My Prince."

Maeglin blinked and turned back to find Rog watching him stoically.

"Are you with me now?"

Maeglin went to nod, then blinked some more as he processed the words. "You speak Sindarin," he blurted out, and watched as the corner of Rog's lips twitched upwards.

Maeglin must have also spoken in Sindarin, reverting to his native language in his moment of panic.

"I do," said Rog, offering no explanation, "Are you with me now?"

"Yes," said Maeglin, then looked aside as Rog released him, "I'm sorry, I—"

"No need, my Prince," Rog interrupted, "Many of us who have crossed the Ice can't stand the cold. Some relive the horror of it at the slightest noise. Whatever you have endured is not my business."

As Maeglin turned over those words in his head, trying to make sense of them, Rog gave him a friendly slap on the back and began moving away, gesturing for him to follow. None around them paid them any attention, the people huddled around the tools returning to their posts once the mess was cleared as though nothing had happened.

"Come," Rog said simply, "I shall show you to the bellows."

Gondolin was beauty given shape. Perhaps his mother had been right, Maeglin thought while he followed Rog deeper into the bowels of the forges of the House of The Hammer of Wrath.

This could be his home after all.

*

Send me a quote and I'll write a short snippet around it! Remember to include the characters you want me to write for!

[justforbooks]

When Ry Cooder famously made his debut appearance at Glastonbury, playing on the Pyramid stage on a damp day in June 1990, he chose not to be backed by a band but by a second guitarist who came on sporting bright red trousers, and hair and sideburns that were very long, even by rock music standards. The duo perched on stools, surrounded by a dozen guitars, mandolins or bouzoukis, and proceeded to prove that they were both virtuoso players who could sound as thrilling as any amplified band as they switched from the atmospheric Paris, Texas to songs made famous by Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly or Jerry Lee Lewis.

Cooder’s companion, David Lindley, who has died aged 78, was a musicians’ musician. He may never have been as well known as those he played with, but he was one of the most sought-after session players in the US. Best known for his collaborations with Cooder and Jackson Browne, he also recorded with an astonishing list of musicians that included Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, James Taylor, Iggy Pop, Linda Ronstadt, Dolly Parton, John Prine, David Crosby, Graham Nash, Ben Harper, Rickie Lee Jones and Bruce Springsteen. They wanted to work with Lindley not just because he was a great musician who could play almost any stringed instrument, from guitar and fiddle to slide guitar and mandolin through to oud and bouzouki, but because he knew how to interpret the mood of a song, adding texture and emotion without ever dominating.

His own musical taste was far more varied than the rock or singer-songwriter styles of the stars for whom he acted as sideman. When leading his own band, El Rayo-X, he was able to branch out and demonstrate his sense of humour as he explored blues, funk and reggae. Like Cooder, he was fascinated by musical styles from around the world, and some of his most original recordings were with musicians from Madagascar, Hawaii, Norway and Jordan.

Born in San Marino, Los Angeles, he was the son of Margaret (nee Wells) and Jack Lindley, a lawyer and music fan. He grew up listening to his father’s eclectic record collection, which included music from the Middle East and Asia, and he learned to play his father’s ukulele, then the banjo. While at La Salle high school in Pasadena he formed a bluegrass band, the Mad Mountain Ramblers, and then the Dry City Scat Band, which played around the Los Angeles folk clubs and at Disneyland. He was still a teenager when he first won the annual Topanga Canyon banjo and fiddle contest, but was asked to stop competing after he had won it five times.

Lindley’s reputation was growing fast, and in 1967 he landed his first major session, playing on Cohen’s debut, Songs of Leonard Cohen. By then he had formed his first electric band, Kaleidoscope, along with Chris Darrow, with whom he had played in the Scat Band. They released their first, wildly experimental album, Side Trips, in 1967, mixing Middle Eastern music with rock, cajun, country and bluegrass, but, though they were praised by Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin, their unique brand of “psychedelic folk” didn’t sell records. They broke up in 1970, after recording four albums, and Lindley moved to England to work with the singer-guitarist Terry Reid, who had famously turned down Led Zeppelin.

Moving back to the US, Lindley teamed up with Browne, with whom he spent the rest of the 1970s, touring and recording as a key member of his band, playing acoustic and electric guitar, slide guitar and fiddle. He perfectly complemented many of Browne’s best-loved songs, playing lap steel on Running on Empty and fiddle on Before the Deluge. Browne called him “my hero”, and other musicians asked him to play on their records when Browne did not require his services. His recordings during that period included three albums for Ronstadt, including her first No 1 album, the exquisite Heart Like a Wheel (1974), two with Rod Stewart, including his bestselling Atlantic Crossing (1975), along with albums with Crosby & Nash, Taylor, Warren Zevon and Parton.

He first recorded with Cooder on Jazz (1978) and Bop Till You Drop (1979), after which the duo began performing live together, touring in Australia and Japan. A 1979 live radio recording from Osaka was released on CD in 2021. On their tour in 1995 they were joined onstage by Cooder’s son, Joachim, and Lindley’s folksinger daughter, Rosanne, and released the album Cooder/Lindley Family Live at the Vienna Opera House.

After leaving Browne’s band in 1980, Lindley moved from sideman to band leader with El Rayo-X, which he called “more or less a party band”, and in which he matched his own songs along with a bravely varied assortment of old favourites. The band’s self-titled debut set in 1981 included a glorious, furious treatment of KC Douglas’s Mercury Blues, while Win This Record, released the following year, included the Toots and the Maytals song Premature. Mr Dave (1985) included his own reggae composition Alien Invasion, and the band’s final album Very Greasy (1988) continued to demonstrate his fascination with the Caribbean. Produced by Ronstadt, it included Ronstadt adding harmony vocals on Lord Kitchener’s calypso classic Gimme da Ting (on which Lindley played guitar and kora) and a reggae reworking of Zevon’s Werewolves of London.

While running the band, he still managed time to visit London to play alongside Richard Thompson and Rory Gallagher, and revive his love of flamenco with Juan Martin, at a Guitarists Night concert in March 1984. And he continued his session work, including albums for Browne, and for Emmylou Harris, Ronstadt and Parton on Trio (1987). In 1990 he worked with Dylan on Under the Red Sky.

Still keen to expand his musical range, he travelled to Madagascar with the guitarist Henry Kaiser to record the musicians and unique instruments of the vast island off the east coast of Africa. The aim was to present local stars to an international audience, but Lindley and Kaiser joined in several of the sessions. The resulting albums, A World Out of Time, Vols 1 and 2 (1992-93), included Lindley playing slide guitar with the traditional band Tarika Sammy and joining guitarist Rossy on a reworking of I Fought the Law, the Crickets song popularised by the Clash.

Moving on to Hawaii, this time in the company of Cooder, he recorded with the Pahinui Bros (1992) on a set that included a Hawaiian reggae treatment of John Lennon’s Jealous Guy. Further musical travels included recordings in Norway with Kaiser for The Sweet Sunny North (1994). In 1994-95 he also recorded with the Jordanian oud player Hani Naser, and between 2000 and 2004 with the reggae percussionist Wally Ingram. Their third album together, Twango Bango III (2003) included When a Guy Gets Boobs, a comment on the American diet. “I have always liked songwriters like Warren Zevon who could write something goofy and also really serious,” he explained.

In 2006 he was reunited with Browne for a short Spanish tour on which they were backed by a flamenco percussionist. Love Is Strange, a live album recorded on that tour, was released in 2010, when Browne and Lindley toured Europe and the US, and played at Glastonbury, with a set that included Running On Empty and Mercury Blues. In the same year Lindley also worked with Bruce Springsteen on The Promise. His own final solo album, Big Twang, was released in 2007.

Lindley had a wild stage image, thanks to his colourful clothes and long hair, but he never favoured a rock’n’roll lifestyle, and would often retreat to his hotel room to rehearse after a show. He hated being disturbed in the morning by hotel workers, and would imitate a dog, scratching at the door and barking, to keep them away.

He lived in Claremont, California, in a house filled with musical instruments, and was married to Joan Darrow, the sister of his Kaleidoscope colleague Chris Darrow. He is survived by Joan and Rosanne.

🔔 David Lindley, musician, born 21 March 1944; died 3 March 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[my-my-my]

Hello, I love your writing! May I ask for some more general nsfw HCs of Aizen?

Sure!! There'll be a brief HC of Akon and Urahra in here too lol

TW: dom/sub undertones, light humiliation, public (ish) play, cum play, toys.

Image isn't Aizen, I just wanted a placeholder - it's from "The Sadist Training Plan" by Mariko Sawamura.

Aizen humours being a switch if that's something what you want to try, but he is really all about control. Oh you're going to sit on his face? He'll make you work for it by teasing you verbally or physically. He knows what makes you tick, so any sense of control you thought you had, goes away. You riding him? Eventually he'll be the one controlling the pace and thrusts of your hips.

I see him as a guy who prefers receiving rather than giving oral (I got another ask about this that'll speak more about this in a few days lol). Not that he hates giving oral, but there's a thrill to him watching you choke on his cock.

This goes with a headcanon I've had for a while, but Aizen, Akon and Urahara, have probably invented some sex toys for their s/os. Akon I can see eagerly showing his partner what he made, letting them be curious about it, give them space to inspect it, etc. He's here for a good time, and it's even better if you're having a good time. Hell, he'll probably "test" it on you in the Squad 12 labs (if no one is around).

Urahara teases you with his inventions, it's a very sensual time as he holds you down and explains what it does. You might even egg him on and he's very receptive for "improvements".

When it comes to Aizen and trying out his "experiment", it means you're going to be tied up and subjugated to many intense orgasms (that he will give permission for). If he's in a "better" mood, I can see him doing something similar as Urahara, sensual and slow, but you'll still be restrained and have to ask for permission. His curiosity will get the better of him, so he will tinker with his inventions to give you the maximum pleasure he can.

That being said, a modern day AU Aizen would also be up on trying toys on you. He likes to watch you squirm and beg, all while being in a position to watch you. He'll be the guy that gets the remote-controlled vibrator and takes IMMENSE pleasure watching you squirm during your dinner at a fine dining restaurant.

But he's trained you well - your cheeks are flushed, your lips rosy and eyes watery, but you're still his good pet and eat your meal as he watches with great curiosity as to what will give. He'll crank up the dial a bit more just to watch you shake and quiver as you get closer to your orgasm.

He def has a breeding kink, or really anything about having his cum in or on you. Some days he wants to be messy and cum all over your face, other times he feels possessive and cums inside you instead. Other days, when he's being a bit of a creep and pervert, he'll cum on your underwear and force you to wear it (he really, really likes to exert power over you).

Tangentially related, he has a bit of a humiliation kink, but again it's a private thing between you and him. He's fine knowing that his wonderful s/o the public knows, is really just a greedy slut for him in the bedroom, it's a great source of pride for him to know how little it takes for you to become undone and lose yourself, and he's really the only one who knows how to do that.

I can see him being the kind of dom that likes the concept of collaring in private. Not necessarily pet play, but a physical reminder that you're his - it doesn't even have to be an actual collar, but a very exquisite, delicate necklace that only you and him know the meaning of. In public, people think it's romantic how he buys you expensive jewelry, but in private, its his way of showing his "ownership" of you. He would definitely buy you a Cartier Love bangle because he takes the meaning of it literally lol