#bonhomie

[mybuddyjimmy]

Bonhomie

Bonhomie [ba-nə-MEE]  Part of speech: noun Origin: French, late 18th century  1. Cheerful friendliness; geniality.  Examples of bonhomie in a sentence  “The show was well received due to the co-hosts’ bonhomie.”  “Jess extended the same bonhomie to everyone she met, whether friend or stranger.”  #wordoftheday

[ravikugupta]

Why does Muslim celebrate Diwali?

Why does Muslim celebrate Diwali?It was Muhammad bin Tughlaq, who was first Muslim Emperor to celebrate a Hindu festival inside his court. It was celebrated modestly with bonhomie & good food, organized by Tughlaq’s Hindu wives.Mughal Emperor Akbar also celebrated a grand festival in the Mughal court.The Rang Mahal in Red Fort was the designated centre for the royal celebrations of…

[the-physicality]

no, you don't understand !!!!!!!!

[hackoftheyear]

the word from chess the musical??

[lightgaswaterelectricityrent]

if you want to listen to two songs that get me so fucked up it's unbelievable

[ozsanjaiioz]

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[samheughanswife]

View Point PR recently.

What’s a guy, a client, got to do to feature on your representatives IG account? Not a disappearing story but on the grid?

Sam must be wondering why his latest photo shoot is not on View Point’s IG. I would if it was me and I’m paying them to do just that.

Just two of the released photos. Not his best. Nonetheless it is promotional material and should be showcased by his PR. Right? Not at time of posting, Saturday 20th July, today.

Yet.

A selection of other male clients recently showcased.

What’s the saying, you are only as good as your last SM mention, mainstream and gossip media.

Sam’s latest press mentions, TV Guide, an article about his favourite cigar and deuxmoi stories and a mention in a podcast.

🫠

The Mensa trio on deuxmoi podcast can’t even pronounce his name correctly and haven’t watched OL. It was excruciating listening. Were they paid to include him in that shit? The ghastly former playboy bunny judges him FFS because he is on Raya, lord the hypocrisy.

Which means one thing and one thing only. The photos at Shutters and the drop to deuxmoi were clearly not organic. Far from it.

Sam, Sam, Sam 🫠

Which brings me back to View Point. Just what are their views on the weekly Sam Heughan weekend parade of new female companions? Is it evident on their IG?

With most of his present and former cast mates at that Con in Birmingham, being convivial, and all that forced bonhomie, Sam’s absence will be the elephant in the room.

What will this weekend bring.

[mouse-of-dimitrescu]

HI one of my fav writer.. Can I request a reader comfort fic (or more/angst/smut) with Lady D or Principal Weems where reader got so drunk in a friend's party located somewhere outside the city where reader is not so familiar esp. with public transportation. And was supposed to be pick-up by their father or sibling but got left on her own accord to return home later when the reader is so untrustful of the unfamiliar environment. They just want to unwind after a stressful week, they did enjoy the party until past midnight and now wanted to go home but instead got so disappointed that decided against it, but still wanna end the night to rest. If you get what I mean.. This is basically me last night and I just want to be comforted right now. Thank you. You are free to add or change anything if you decided to write this<3 <3 <3

Safe in Her Arms

Larissa Weems X Fem Reader ( fluff and comfort )

WARNINGS: party, being slightly drunk, unfamiliar surroundings. ( Tell me if I need to add more <3)

✿✼:ﾟ:.｡..｡.:･ﾟﾟ･*✿✼:ﾟ:.｡..｡.:･ﾟﾟ･*

You had attended a party outside your home city. The unfamiliarity of it seeped through your clothes and sent a shiver down your spine. When you entered the party, a change occured and you were met with the cheerful bonhomie of your friends. You didn't feel so mistrustful — eventually coming to enjoy a good evening. The hours slipped by before you could realise, darting towards midnight. It was almost time to return home and you felt quite exhausted after all the excitement, not to mention, a bit drunk too. You walked out a bit clumsily onto the pavement where you were supposed to be picked up but there was no sign of your father. He intended to pick you up after the party and the realisation of his absence caused you to become incredibly anxious.

You were disappointed and wanted to get to a safe environment as soon as possible. Your eyes darted across your surroundings which began to grow increasingly untrustworthy. With every sound, your head turned, your eyes darting back and forth, in a daze, but trying to keep on red alert.

You wrapped your coat securely around yourself to feel more comfortable and you got out your phone. You had no idea how to use the public transport system, especially in this state. And Uber would not be entirely safe at that hour. You didn't want to go home in particular, you just wanted to go somewhere comforting and familiar. You scrolled through your contacts and spotted the name: Larissa. You didn't want to bother the poor woman so late at night but at this point in time, it seemed like the only option.

You called her and she picked up almost immediately.

" Hello dear? Why are you calling at this hour? Is everything okay?" She asked, her voice laced with concern. Your heart warmed and you shut your eyes, finding comfort in her voice.

" I'm really sorry to bother you so late but I'm kind of...stuck outside the city. I was at a party and I don't have transport to get—" You explained, Larissa interrupted.

" Don't apologise. Where are you, darling?" She asked. You heard some shuffling over the phone.

You gave Larissa the address and held the bridge of your nose. " I'm just going to hide by the building."

" Okay, dear. Please keep safe. I'll be there as soon as possible." Larissa said. She put the phone down and you let out a sigh of relief.

You waited a short while, holding your coat around you tightly and stepping into the shadows so no one could really notice you if they were lurking nearby. You leant against the wall, trying to support yourself.

Larissa in her familiar grey car parked on the side and she hopped out. She spotted you and rushed towards you, taking you in her arms and peppering little kisses over your cheeks, making you smile slightly.

" You alright, darling? A bit tipsy?"

You nodded. " Y-yes." Larissa nodded in response and guided you to her car. She helped you get in the passenger seat.

Larissa hopped in the driver's seat and grabbed something's from the back.

" I'm sorry it's so late—"

" Stop apologising. I was awake anyway. Here, darling. Have some water and take this blanket, you must be freezing." Larissa handed you a warm blanket and a bottle of water. You opened the bottle and sipped out of it, thanking her. She smiled and began driving.

" Did you enjoy the party?" She asked.

" Oh, yes. It was nice. Then it got too dark and people began to leave to go home." You mumbled, a bit tiredly.

Larissa nodded. " Dear, would you like me to drop you off at home? Or would you like to come back with me to my cottage and I'll get you comfortable?" She asked.

You thought for a moment. " Would it be okay if I came back with you to your cottage?" You asked shyly.

" Of course darling. I always enjoy your company." Larissa squeezed your hand with a smile ajd carried on driving.

You looked out the window to see all the shimmering night lights and heard the soft rumble of the car. Larissa's perfume was so familiar and comforting that you felt like you could reach out and touch it — maybe hold it forever. Larissa drove carefully on the roads, occasionally glancing over at you to see if you were okay. You arrived in her neighbourhood and drove slowly, eventually pulling into her driveway and shutting off the car. She stuffed her keys in her pocket and lead you out of the car. You followed larissa inside and she put her keys on the hook.

" Follow me, dear. You can have a shower and get some rest. You've had a long night." Larissa placed a gentle hand on your back and guided you upstairs. She showed you to the bathroom and handed you a towel and a pair of her pajamas.

" Thank you so much." You hugged larissa.

She smiled and hugged you back, kissing your cheek. " Anytime darling. I'm only a call away." She looked to you. " Do you fancy a hot chocolate before bed?" Larissa brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

You nodded. " That sounds really nice."

Larissa smiled and squeezed your shoulder, heading downstairs and giving you privacy. You hopped in the shower, feeling the relief of the hot water on your skin, washing off the stress. After showering, you hopped out, grabbing the grey towel. You dried yourself off and got dressed in Larissa's pajamas, feeling how soft they were. You couldn't help but hug yourself and smile slightly at the feeling. You tidied up the bathroom and headed downstairs, holding on the railing for a bit of support. You found Larissa in the kitchen, preparing hot chocolate and a light snack.

" Hello." You greeted softly, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter.

Larissa smiled. " Hello, dear. How was your shower? Do you feel better?" She asked.

" Much. Thank you. Can I help you with anything?" You looked over to Larissa.

She put extra marshmallows in your hot chocolate and handed it to you. " No, darling. Go sit down in the living room. I'll join you in a second." She kissed your forehead and pointed to the living room entrance. You hesitantly obeyed her orders and sat down on the sofa, taking a small sip of your delicious hot chocolate.

Larissa entered the living room a few moments later with a small plate of chocolate chip cookies in her hand and her own cup of hot chocolate in the other.

" Eat up, darling." She smiled and sat next to you.

" Thank you so much." You took a chocolate chip cookie and bit into it, savoring the taste.

Larissa scooted closer to you and covered both of your laps with the blanket, making sure you were comfortable before wrapping a comforting arm around you. She played with your hair while you sat with her, leaning into her touch. She held you tightly and kissed your cheek.

" You did the right thing to call me, sweetheart. I'm so glad that you did." Larissa spoke softly.

You smiled slightly and took the last sip of your hot chocolate, wrapping your fingers around the warm cup. " Thank you for everything, really."

Larissa smiled and put your cups aside, she lead you upstairs, guiding you as you walked — she didnt want you to trip or fall.

" Okay sweetheart, let's get you tucked in. You look exhausted." Larissa slipped under the covers with you and made sure that you were comfortable. Larissa held you close and kissed your forehead.

" You've had a long night. Get some rest, darling. I'll be right here in the morning. What do you want for breakfast?" She asked.

" Oh, um, I don't mind. You don't have to make me breakfas—"

" I want to dear. You're my guest and you know how much I care for you. How about pancakes?" Larissa began to play with your hair again as you cuddled into her.

" That sounds lovely, thank you." You smiled.

Larissa smiled back and kissed your cheek. " I love you, dear. Sleep tight."

" I love you too, Rissy. Good night." You whispered back. Your eyes shut from exhaustion. You fell into an almost-immediate slumber, surrounded by the comforts of Larissa and safety.

✿✼:ﾟ:.｡..｡.:･ﾟﾟ･*✿✼:ﾟ:.｡..｡.:･ﾟﾟ･*

@winterfireblond @littledollll @blood-red-ocean @ness029 @aemilia19 @barbarasstar @sirclitoressa @im-a-carnivorous-plant

Thank you for the request ❤️❤️❤️

[lyss-sketchbox]

It’s funny because I kind of forgot that I’m French, but I’ve just got that very vivid image of Wriothesley and Neuvillette talking like :

Neuv : Il m’apparaît conséquemment que les desseins de ce quidam se trouvent être plus fuligineux que ce que sa bonhomie ne laisse paraître.

Wrio : Uh-uh

Oooh do you think Neuvillette swears in French, but like, we’ve got ridiculous swear words. Just imagine Neuvillette saying « Saperlipopette » or « Sacrebleu » or « Palsambleu » or « Diantre »

And Wriothesley would just stare at him like *what the fuck did you just say*

JDJDJNDNS YEAH EXACTLY!!!

Literally just pretend you are neuvi and i am wrio and im just... nodding along i totally know what that means.

Also yes neuvi would swear in french!! Very rarely obviously but if he does wrio would say 'bless you'

[pinesource]

Pine is the best thing in the film, his natural bonhomie nicely oiled and seasoned with creepiness. — Anthony Lane, New Yorker

Chris Pine as Frank in Don't Worry Darling (2022)

[hozierandco]

The Match-maker - Part 3 of Callum Turner x Reader // FLUFF

AN: First of all, I apologise part 3 has taken longer than expected. I think I'll stop promising to publish at a certain date when I can't meet expectations. Anyway, this is part 3 which is still kinda fluffy but we're going towards SMUT (which will be part 4 so you will have to wait a bit more for this, sorryyyy). Hope you like it xx

“Would you like to see the pictures I took back to my place?”, Y/N questioned, feeling like the end of the night could well go somewhere unplanned but nice.

“I’d love that”

The night was well advanced and the Park was oddly quiet, perturbed only by the sound of rare sirens afar and some perched daring crows. The conversation went on about upcoming projects, recently watched Netflix shows and family dramas.

Though they had met just a few hours prior, the conversation flowed so smoothly. It was as though Callum, an English 30-ish actor had been through all the throes an American photographer had known. It felt good not only to be heard but to be understood as well, Y/N thought.

Callum could not help but think back on what in his life had led to this. What if he had never flown to New York and had decided to stay in Chelsea instead? What if he had never met Austin, and therefore had never met Y/N? Just to imagine never grazing Central Park in such pleasant company caused him to overthink all the many terrible ways this could end.

He had been heartbroken so many times, getting attached too soon and too quickly or to the wrong person. Over and over again. But he could sense that Y/N was different. Was it because she too had open wounds? Or was it that she was as detail-oriented as he was recounting all the love stories gone bad?

He did not wish to repeat the same mistakes that had led to him being hurt but he knew it was inevitable. He was going to fall for her. It was something about her bonhomie and vision of life that was so goddamn irresistible. 

“There, that’s where I’m living for a couple more days”, Y/N announced as they got to a stop in front of a door made of brick. Queens is not the first neighbourhood of the Big Apple you’re thinking of when you think of all the glam and romantic appeal the city has to offer but here it was. 

Though she had taken the subway already earlier in the evening to set her gear before attending the party, Y/N was still amazed at the non-stop functioning engine. She liked to imagine everyone’s life, now she had the occasion to imagine hers either choice she was about to make: to trust or not to trust that smiling actor who seemed unable to hurt a fly.

“Let me show you the camera obscura I set up in here”, Y/N declared with pride tinting her voice as she hinted that Callum could enter. At that moment, it felt the most natural thing to do, as though Callum was a familiar, as though Y/N had invited him over multiple times. 

In the small room she had tidied neat to exhibit her photographs of the city and those she was about to develop from the Gala, the two stood next to one another, feeling comfortable with each other’s presence. Because it was required by the device she had carried with her from one coast to the other, Y/N had placed some towel she had found in the bathroom and had arranged it over the lightbulb. The whole installation made the light flip crimson anytime she was turning on the switch. 

With this new shade of red covering his face, Callum could be admired the way he was created to be. He was a handsome man with this charm of a man who has no idea how ridiculously daunting and comely he was. It seemed as though his smile was wider than it had been through the evening. Y/N could not let go of the chance she had to kiss him just a little more, crossing her fingers that he would not disappear and that all of this was not just a fever dream. 

Though it was close to 2 am, though the two of them had not closed their eyes to rest for the past 19 hours or something like that, there was no way their lack of sleep was getting in the way of the chemistry they shared at that moment. 

Y/N was still in her black dress that Callum had made swirl just a couple hours prior with his dance moves. She was even more beautiful now that no one was around and that she had no performative socialisation to make. It was as though she was hers only, her precious treasure chest after a long journey to a remote island.

“So, can I help you with tonight’s pictures?” Callum offered with a heavenly grin on his face, just seconds after parting from her embrace and kisses.

And like that, Y/N was talking about the invention of the camera obscura and teaching him about the techniques to develop pictures from a film camera. Callum, being an actor, was a pro in front of the cameras but had no clue as to how they worked and was more than happy his teacher was both nerdy when it came to the subject and drop dead beautiful.

After having taught the basis, Y/N trusted Callum to develop pictures on his own. Seeing him being enthusiastic and caring with the films made him even more irresistible.

“I think this one has to be my favourite photograph so far”, Callum stated after letting a bunch of pictures taking a bath and allowing them to dry out. The photograph in question was a selfie of Y/N had taken right before the Gala started as a souvenir of this ethereal occasion. The only photograph from the selection that had her face on it. 

“Now, since you’ve been an excellent photographer, will you allow me to take some pictures of you?” Y/N asked, brushing off the compliment. 

Callum sat on the leather couch that seemed straight out from an Ikea catalogue and posed for Y/N. He could feel her eyes going from the camera to him and back to the camera, making sure she had the right angle to capture his beauty as a whole. It was a losing battle as Callum could not be as handsome as the version she had in front of her. She thought that if he was to vanish when the day would come, she would at least have the pictures to rely on.

As Callum was somehow obliged to look at the camera - and the person holding it -, the tension got to him. She was way too gorgeous not to be the one posing. As she fixed her zoom lens, he approached her and gave her another round of kisses. This time around, Y/N and Callum could feel there were more than kisses to get from this and touches on the thighs and torso succeeded.

“Is that okay if I’m touching you like that?” Callum asked Y/N as she grew desperate for the touch. 

“Yes, it’s more than okay. It’s just perfect”

The two of them carried on, competing as to who would be the most passionate. Callum brought Y/N’s mouth closer to his and after a few more kisses placed on her lips, got to her neck. Still on the sofa, Callum lay his weight on Y/N as he found new spots to soak with his affection.

[george-the-good]

King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra with their grandchildren, Princess Mary, Prince Albert, Prince Henry and Prince Edward, 1901.

Photo by Frederick William Ralph // NPG

The four children spent much time with their grandparents in 1901, with their parents away undertaking an Empire tour between March and November:

‘King Edward and Queen Alexandra adored their grandchildren and liked nothing more than to have them with them. Thus, for nearly eight months, the three Princes and Princess Mary, together with their nursery entourage, followed the peregrinations of the Court from Marlborough House to Sandringham and from Osborne to Balmoral. The bonds of discipline were definitely relaxed. King Edward, with his jovial bonhomie and enjoyment of life, and with formidable recollections of his own early instruction, discouraged lessons as constituting an unnecessary inhibition to fun. Both he and the Queen encouraged the children in their boisterous expression of animal spirits and delighted to show them off before distinguished visitors at luncheon at Buckingham Palace and Sandringham, when they were allowed to romp openly in the dining-room.’

GEORGE VI by J. W. Wheeler-Bennett (1958)

[thegildedbee]

Family/Laugh: May 12 & 13 Prompts from @calaisreno

The exterior nowheres that Sherlock inhabits can be charted by his footfalls as he wends his way through the precincts of temporary cities. The silent drift of assimilating interior nowheres, however, seems to leave no traces, even as he feels unseen changes taking hold. His suspension in the January North of a darkness that persists until late morning, and then quickly returns in the afternoon, intensifies his perception that he lives in a shadow-world, a lone dark figure extracted from the frozen rain that curtains his days. 

The patterns he seeks to capture as he hunts amidst the ones and zeros of cyberspace are likewise intangible – extended solitary vigils as his fingers command the keyboard to winnow through the tangle of codes – as well as tangible, of meetings with the technological mix of people here at Tallinn’s crossroads: software developers seeking the leading edge at corporate labs, security experts at NATO’s Cyber Defence Centre of Excellence, the underground hackers who traverse the landscape of the digital realm’s hollow earth. Both the intangible and the tangible are intense efforts to spy glimpses of Moriarty’s covert presence in the spaces between the ones and zeros, summoning up the networks and nodes of the intersecting spheres of finance, and energy, and communications, as made manifest in trafficking, and counterfeiting, and hijacking, across the physical and human worlds.

He’s accumulated an abundance of leads, some he’s near-certain he understands, and others he’s yet to decipher – but it’s enough to reveal to him his next move on the chessboard: St. Petersburg. He’ll take the train from Tallinn, without needing to step out for border control, which is handled en route. He’ll be leaving Estonia under a new identity; he hopes to keep Lukas Sigerson in his back pocket for later uses, but it’s time to make his presence difficult to trace: it's time to step away from Mycroft’s grid. He’s left seemingly inadvertent clues to allow Mycrofts’s people to (think that they’re) following him, along a pathway that connects the nefarious doings of Mexican cartels involved in establishing meth labs in Nigeria for the Asian market. Their pursuit of him will be turned to good account in dismantling that nexus, even when they realize he is elsewhere. 

St. Petersburg is a hive of hacking activity, the physical site of the infamous Russian Business Network, which catered to the needs of cyber criminals. It’s not surprising that it is the city where Vladimir Putin lived, received his education, and joined the KGB, as an agent in its foreign intelligence wing, before tunneling his way to Moscow. Sherlock doesn’t believe that there are many degrees of separation between Moriarty and the dark internet of Putin’s hellscape. 

He arrives at the end of Tallinn’s usefulness on a Friday evening. As he packs up his kit in the office space he’s made homebase through a courtesy loan in deference to his Norwegian technology credentials, some of the younger workers have swept him up into their murmurating flock as they celebrate the coming weekend in search of alcohol, bar food, and music. In London, Sherlock would have begged off such a request, were anyone intrepid enough to suggest it, and he would have been unperturbed at whatever anyone might think. But he’s not Sherlock, he’s Lukas, at least for a short while longer, and although his persona is reserved, businesslike and uninclined to make small talk, Lukas possesses an average quantity of affability; and remaining unobtrusive is best accomplished by being amidst the motions of others, rather than making himself conspicuous by setting himself off from the norms of sociality. 

He did not, however, anticipate the karaoke session, which is putting a severe strain on the bonhomie he is channeling to Lukas, as it’s clear that he’s going to need to accede to accepting a turn in the spotlight, lest he put a damper on the good spirits of his companions. He nevertheless protests with a smile, holding out his hands, but any input he might have been able to exert on the decision-making disappears, when two of his impromptu friends conspire to tug him toward the microphone, explaining that all three of them will venture forth together, with a song they insist is dead simple to sing, and that the well-lubricated crowd will be delighted to join in with them in belting out the familiar refrain. Which is how he finds himself being carried along within a punchy, melodic stream that turns out to be excruciating emotionally, as the verses unfurl. He listlessly despairs, marooned, a hollowed-out laugh echoing inside his head in response.

. . . When I'm lonely, well, I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you And when I'm dreamin', well, I know I'm gonna dream I'm gonna dream about the time when I'm with you. When I go out (when I go out), well, I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who goes along with you And when I come home (when I come home), I know I'm gonna be I'm gonna be the man who comes back home with you I'm gonna be the man who's comin' home with you . . .

He’s exasperated at the universe conspiring to keep him unsettled, to deny him the solace of alone protecting him. He fears that he is fated to have any social contact whatsoever somehow conjure home and reminders of John. The song ends to raucous cheers, and the enthusiasm surges on, and he’s being importuned to name a new song of his own choice before being allowed to return to the table. He looks at the smiling faces helplessly, immobilized by the churning cacophony playing hide-and-seek inside his guts, incapable of conjuring up the simplest of answers. Undeterred, they jolly him along, prompting him to think of a film he’s recently seen, or club he’s been to, or a favorite television show. At the latter suggestion, his mind does slightly slip free, and there is John again, teasing Sherlock into watching another of his favorite shows, Sherlock pretending to be annoyed at being consigned to such a fate. He turns to the young people, and raises his voice to speak into the nearest person’s ear to be heard over the noisy crowd, and says with a question in his voice, Peaky Blinders? He seems to have pleased them, as they fiddle around to pull the selection, bouncing in high spirits and punching their fists into the air, as the music starts, a bell ringing out, and the slithering deep tones speaking of the edge of town, of secrets in the border fires, of a gathering storm -- and a tall handsome man, in a dusty black coat, with a red right hand. 

As Sherlock listens to the song unspool, his mind wanders back to the show's themes, reminding him of a line of thought he’d been considering the last few days – that to focus singularly on Moriarty and faceless confederates is not quite the right way to conceptualize the dead man's web: that there must have also been family members in leading positions, positions of trust. One of the deep divides between himself and Mycroft originated in Sherlock’s refusal in uni to agree to work for SIS. Mycroft knew that he would never be able to trust completely any of the professionals who worked for him – after all they are spies working for money. To be sure, he wanted Sherlock to sign on to be able to appropriate his intelligence, but even more compelling was the fact that never having to question the loyalty of a brother would have made him an asset par excellence. Mycroft considers getting what he wants to be an inviolable law of the universe, and Sherlock doesn't think his brother will ever be able to truly forgive him for the rejection . . . especially given Sherlock's devotion to the inferior endeavors of dedicating himself to a life of metropolitan crime-solving. Family; family is what matters. A Moriarty is gone; but there are other Moriarties yet to be unearthed. ........................................................ @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper @helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra @solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack

@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912 @dapetty

.............................................................................

[talktomeinclexa]

The Royal Guard

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Gun violence, Blood and Injury

Status: WIP

Summary: Princess Clarke of Arkadia is kidnapped by mercenaries while on a visit to one of the kingdom's cities. Her abductors treat her well enough, but everything becomes more complicated when their client orders them to execute her. Lexa thought this was just another job. High risk, high pay. But when push comes to shove, will she betray her orders or her heart?

***

Chapter 8: Announcement

Lexa’s knees wobbled when she tried to stand. If she hadn’t used the door bars to pull herself up, Clarke didn’t think she would have managed.

“You should sit down,” she said, pointing at the cot hanging from the right-side wall. It looked as comfortable as a marble slab, but at least it would stop Lexa from collapsing onto the floor.

“I’m fine.”

With her drowned look, too-pale face, and raspy voice, Lexa appeared miles away from fine. But there was also iron in her voice, and a flame burning in her eyes that told Clarke not to press the issue. Not while Lexa remained a prisoner; a newly appointed Royal Guard in name only.

For a brief second, Clarke was glad to see Pike return. The sooner Dr. Jackson auscultated Lexa, the better. That was until she spotted her father striding behind him, his usual bonhomie nowhere to be seen.

As far as parents went, and even more among the royal ones, Clarke knew she was lucky. Jake and Abby had done their best to offer her and Madi… well, not a normal childhood, but the closest thing they could afford. They had gone on vacation as a family, the bodyguards as far and few as reason allowed. They had encouraged them to make friends of various social classes and try several hobbies—although Clarke had given up on the trumpet, Madi still practiced aikido. They had even let them date whoever they wanted, then protected them as best as possible from the press. Clarke hadn’t thought she could disappoint them until that day, and the look on her father’s face made her recoil.

Keep reading on Ao3

[empirearchives]

Descriptions of Napoleon’s personality by Adam Zamoyski

“He was kind by nature, quick to assist and reward. He found comfortable jobs and granted generous pensions to former colleagues, teachers, and servants, even to a guard who had shown sympathy during his incarceration after the fall of Robespierre. He was generous to the son of Marbeuf, promoted his former commander at TouIon Dugommier and looked after his family when he died, did the same for La Poype and du Teil, and even found the useless Carteaux a post with a generous pension. Whenever he encountered hardship or poverty, he disbursed lavishly. He could be sensitive, and there are countless verifiable acts of solicitude and kindness that testify to his genuinely wishing to make people happy.”

“He was most at his ease with children, soldiers, servants, and those close to him, in whom he took a personal interest, asking them about their health, their families, and their troubles. He would treat them with a joshing familiarity, teasing them, calling them scoundrels or nincompoops; whenever he saw his physician, Dr. Jean-Nicolas Corvisart, he would ask him how many people he had killed that day.”

“He possessed considerable charm and only needed to smile for people to melt. He could be a delightful companion when he adopted an attitude of bonhomie. He was a good raconteur, and people loved listening to him speak on some subject that interested him, or tell his ghost stories, for which he would sometimes blow out the candles. He could grow passionate when discussing literature or, more rarely, his feelings.”

[freddiemercurylegendabovelegends]

Today - March 5th, 1976

Eddie Howell "The Man From Manhattan" 7" single released

Freddie Mercury: producer/piano/bvs

Brian May: guitar

Excerpts from an interview

Jacky Gunn-Smith - Official International Queen Fan Club

Eddie Howell’s ‘Man From Manhattan‘ is one of the best known and best loved of all Queen’s collaborations.

Recorded in mid January 1976 at Sarm East Studios in London, the song was produced by Freddie Mercury, who also played piano and sang backing vocals on the track and featured Brian May on guitar. The record is so reminiscent of “A Night At The Opera” in both instrumentation and mood, that many fans regard it as virtually an “Opera” out-take. When it was launched as a single on Warner Bros records in 1976, it became a turntable hit in the UK and looked set to chart until music industry bureaucracy halted it in it’s tracks.

Birmingham born Eddie Howell began his professional career in the late 60’s, when Chrysalis music picked up on his songwriting demos and introduced him to an independent record producer, who in turn licensed his first single “Easy Street”, as a one-off deal to Parlophone in 1969.

Working as a songwriter throughout the early 70’s, Eddie’s next venture into recording came in 1975 when he signed to Warner Bros records as an artist. thursdaysHe released two singles, “Long Story” and “Can’t get over you”, and his debut LP “The Eddie Howell Gramophone Record”, which featured members of “Brand X” and guitarist Gary Moore.

The album was launched at a promotional gig at Thursday’s club in Kensington. Eddie’s band included Phil Collins on congas, Jack Lancaster on saxophone and Robin Lumley on keyboards. Explains Eddie, ”In the audience that night was Freddie Mercury who had been brought along to the gig by my manager David Minns. It was there that he first heard “Man From Manhattan”, which was a newly written song included in the set. After the gig we met and he was very complimentary about the song and offered to produce it. I remember we all went down to ‘The Elephant on the River’ to celebrate”.

Enthused by the prospect of his first foray into production, Freddie wasted little time in getting started. ”I gave him a two track guitar/vocal demo of the song” recalls Eddie, ”and a couple of days later he called and said let’s get going. Studio time was booked at Sarm East Studios and true to form, Freddie quickly took control of the sessions; ”He did lots of pre-production work on the song’s structure and the harmony arrangements”, reveals Ed. ” He had a mini cassette recorder loaded with ideas for the track, backing vocals and answering phrases”.

”We took a week to record the song”, remembers Eddie, ”which was a long time in those days, but because of Freddie’s involvement, Warners gave us a blank cheque. The sessions were quite intense, there was never a lull. Brian came in to play hismikestone2 guitar parts and the musical rapport between him and Freddie was plain to see, they were on the same page. One day, a hand-held spinning bell-cymbal in the key of ‘D’ was required by Freddie for one ping at the end of the track and the studio didn’t have one, so a runner was dispatched to scour the streets of London in search of one. The session was adjourned for half a day while we waited down at the Shazam Indian restaurant in Brick Lane for the bell to arrive. It eventually arrived and took about a minute to record, it must have been the most expensive ping ever recorded”.

On the final day of recording, a trio of Warner Bros top brass flew in from California and made a beeline for Sarm East studios to meet Freddie. Recalls Eddie, ”They probably thought the red carpet would be rolled out as they were paying for the recording sessions, but instead they were kept waiting in reception for about four hours. When they were eventually granted an audience, the charm offensive was full onlongstory3 and it was all smiles and bonhomie. At the end of the session, after the final playback, Freddie turned to me and said, ‘If this isn’t a hit, sue Warner Bros ‘ ”.

The finished article obviously had a heavy Queen influence with the presence of Freddie and Brian on the track, but ”Man from Manhattan” was far from a tribute to Queen. ”I wrote the song after my first trip to Manhattan in late 74”, reveals Eddie, ”I was reading ‘The Godfather Papers’ by Mario Puzo and the song was about those mafia characters who lead a double life. Musically, I had ‘Dead End Street’, by the Kinks in mind, complete with trombones and a walking double-bass”.

Prior to the ban, ”Manhattan” made top 50 in the UK, top 20 in Australia, Belgium and South Africa and top 5 in Holland, but sadly, as a consequence of the ban, it was never released in America or many of the world’s other major territories.

When it was issued as a single in 1976, Warner’s publicity department played up the Queen connection as much as they could, and “Manhattan” rapidly became a turntable hit in the UK. The record received heavy rotation on the airwaves – particularly in Europe where it became a big hit. Then, just when it looked set to climb the charts in the UK, the Musicians Union mysteriously discovered that Jerome Rimson, the American bassist hired by Freddie for the sessions, had been working in Britain without a permit. This obliged them to place a ban on any and all further UK media exposure due to his ‘Illegally’ recorded playing. A decision which effectively killed off the record.

Having recently regained the rights to his back catalogue recorded during his time with the label, Eddie is now releasing the tracks digitally. ”Man from Manhattan” is first up, more to follow…

(source: https://manfrommanhattan.wordpress.com/)

📸 Pic: Freddie Mercury and Eddie Howell in control room