#Line Renaud

[lobbycards]

Welcome to the Sticks (Bienvenue chez les Ch'tis), German lobby card, 2008

[musicbabes]

Line Renaud, 1949.

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Si la mort ne me hante pas, moi Line Renaud aimerait bien que ça se passe le plus doucement possible et, concrètement, j'ai commencé à prendre ses dispositions notamment côté héritage. "L'important, c'est la liberté et le contrôle de sa vie jusqu'au bout du chemin. Moi aussi, j'ai préparé chaque détail de ce que j'appelle 'l'après-moi'. Il faut rester maître de son destin, sans perdre son humour",

[postcard-from-the-past]

French singer Line Renaud on a vintage postcard

[comteandersen]

CENTRE NATIONAL DU COSTUME DE SCÈNE 03000 MOULINS

[bob-the-movie-man-film-reviews]

Driving Madeleine (15): A Tale in Pursuit of the Silver Dollar (But With Added Grit).

#onemannsmovies #filmreview of "Driving Madeleine". #DrivingMadeleine. A delightful Paris set drama for older folk (but with some bite). 4/5.

A One Mann’s Movies review of “Driving Madeleine” (2023). Original title: Une belle course “Driving Madeleine” took me by surprise. When I started watching it, I thought “Oh, another gentle little movie that might bring in the ‘silver dollar’ audience”. Which is something I love seeing: the joy of going into a cinema screening in the middle of a weekday afternoon and instead of finding it…

[princessjeno]

I took some photos to my grandma’s roses 💞

[cinemacentral666]

I Can't Sleep (1994)

Movie #1,043 • part of my CLAIRE DENIS Director Focus

[Ed. Note: This is the first installment of my chronological review series on the work of French director Claire Denis at this blog; for the first five posts head here.]

I continue to find the work of Denis mostly inscrutable. I normally love a meditative slow burn. I think the multitude of perspectives, even as they intertwine, don't enhance (any of) the narrative(s), and while I certainly get that that (narrative) isn't really the point, the themes re societal outsiders — which has hardly proven to be a VERY common theme in her work already — has left me feeling a tad cold as well.

From my notes:

Were the helicopter cops the same cops that picked him up? Don't think so. Remember them? The laughing helicopter cops??? On the one hand, I appreciate just like magically thinking of something (laughing helicopter cops) and then look: that's how your movie begins? Maybe not caring or being overly concerned with why they're there (why is anything anywhere? In the movies, or otherwise). Or maybe it's the complete opposite: everyone of these decisions have been poured over and are integral to the narrative(s) and/or thematic elements. What? You don't get it? What's wrong with you? (me)

To further that point: I'm able to construct a reason for the cackling helicopter cops and what they might represent, and I legitimately like the absurdism in starting your film with them. I think I'm simply having some "A to B" issues with digesting her work that I don't typically have with similar, mostly more contemporary "slow burns" (and I'm not sure why).

I can definitely see reaching a point in her filmography where the light clicks on (as I WANT to like these movies more than I have thus far), but I'm just not there yet.

SCORE: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️¼

Every other Friday I'll be reviewing a Claire Denis film. Tune in two weeks time for my take on US Go Home (1994).

[leopardtrip]

Jacqueline Renaud est une chanteuse, meneuse de revue et actrice française, née le 2 juillet 1928 à Nieppe . Elle est plus connue sous le nom de Line Renaud. Elle a commencé sa carrière scénique et cinématographique en 1944, marquée par de nombreux engagements politiques et humanitaires. Elle est l’une des personnalités les plus présentes dans le paysage médiatique français.

Jacqueline Renaud, 1958.

[micpac]

[dixvinsblog]

On veut des noms – Jean-Paul Clair (de Queuille Henri à Line Renaud)

Q QUEUILLE Henri (1884-1970) : Homme politique, ministre sous la IIIème et IVème République, qui savait de quoi il parlait quand il disait : « La politique, ce n’est pas de résoudre des problèmes, c’est de faire taire ceux qui les posent. » Et dans le même ordre d’idée : « Il n’est pas de problème dont une absence de solution ne puisse pas venir à bout. » Il parraina l’entrée en politique d’un…

[abdlrimespotiques]

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Jacqueline Enté, est née le 2 juillet 1929

[mrs-weasley-reid]

BUBBLEGUM BAIT

Aaron Hotchner x undercoveragent!reader

Sypnosis: Aaron goes undercover to rescue you. Turns out, you were already planning your escape. WARNING: curse words, violence, sexual advances, and innuendos (and more, tell me if you spot them) A/N: this is my first Aaron Hotchner post, have mercy lol.

Derek whistled, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Old money, hot daddy."

Emily burst out laughing, throwing her head back against her seat. David gave his best—he really didn't—to fight the chuckle threatening to rattle out of him, settling for a tight-lipped smirk.

"I was going to say that!" Penelope argued, turning to Hotch with a huge grin on her face. "Them ladies are 'bout to get an extremely Hotch meal."

Aaron depressingly placed a hand over his forehead, weighing all his options and regretting all his decisions. His ears glowed bright pink.

It wasn't like he had never worn a suit before, but this suit wasn't particularly the same as the ones he wore every day. This one smelled strong and titillating, radiating opulence and grandeur.

His hair was out of control as if he was a rabid man. The cologne that laced on the sides of his neck was reminiscent of asshole and arrogance. It would've been fine if he was still in college, but he was four decades into his lifetime, for Pete's sake.

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, turning to find the culprit of his demise. "You don't have to do this, Agent Hotchner." The woman with salt and pepper hair gave him an apologetic look.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"We're still working on identifying the victim. It's like she never lived here." Penelope stated as she pressed a button on the remote control.

"That's because she didn't." They all turned to find a woman in her sixties, accompanied by a younger man half her age. She stepped inside the conference room, "Jeanne Renaud, chief of the Lyon Interpol Headquarters."

Aaron stood up, offering a hand. "Aaron Hotchner." He gave her a curt nod. "I didn't get any notice about your arrival. We're unfortunately about to work on a case."

A tight-lipped smile ran along her lips, motioning for the man behind her.

The man began to distribute folders around the table just as she started to speak once more.

"The victim is Liliane Zairsev. She's from Paris and a suspected victim of sex trafficking. A month ago, we found out that this organization was moving here to America. One of us was tasked to work undercover. We haven't heard from that agent in a week. Three days later, we heard the news about dead women who had the same victimology as the ones in the file Liam handed out." She breathed deeply, crossing her arms close to her chest.

"Thirty-two victims?" David raised an eyebrow. If three was a horrifying sign in their line of jobs, he couldn't imagine the terror of the number he just mentioned.

"We need our agent back, Agent Hotchner. We need your help." Jeanne pleaded, worry flickering in her eyes.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"The night starts with auctions. There are two types of categories, dine in or take out. We're not sure which one she's in. We don't even know if she really is there. No matter what, once you find her, fight for her worth." Liam explained, checking the wires that hung like vines around Aaron's body.

Aaron kept silent, running every possible outcome in his head. He wasn't new to auction events, but how would he show eagerness rather than desperation? How was he going to save you without everyone figuring out that he was a federal agent and possibly risking both of your lives?

Liam straightened himself, signaling to Aaron that he was done. "Dine in or take out. As long as you choose an exclusive package deal, they will grant you a private room. That's where they would possibly prepare her for—" He paused, clenching his jaw.

As your close friend, he wasn't comfortable talking about you in such disrespectful ways. But Liam knew how vital every single piece of information he gave Aaron was.

"—your pleasure... She will likely be sedated, but she fights like a lion. Just calm her down and get her out of that hell hole."

It didn't take a whole team of profilers to know that Jeanne and Liam didn't merely take this mission as part of their job. It was personal. It was family. You were their family, and they wanted you back.

"I'll get her back." Aaron promised, earning a nod from the younger man. He plugged the earbud that Liam handed him.

Everyone waited for Aaron in front of the building. Some of them, Penelope and Derek, have yet to fade their teasing smiles.

But JJ was the one who had an encouraging smile, "You look good." She said as she dusted the lapel over his shoulders. "Take her back home to her family."

David threw a set of keys in his direction, "Don't hurt her. She's the only wife that stayed for more than ten years."

Aaron let out a small chuckle, eyeing a 1984 black Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz convertible. "I'll bring her back by midnight." He got in the driver's seat, feeling the texture of the wheel.

If only David had the kindness to whip his vintage cars out every case, Aaron would've loosened up the lines on his forehead.

"Always remember, we're inside your head." Emily pointed at her ear, creepily grinning at him

"We'll be following you too, of course. We're going to surround the place, so don't hesitate to call us in." Derek added, chuckling at Emily's words.

Aaron nodded, taking a deep breath. Now or never.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"Struggling will only make it hurt more." The man with sculpted arms growled, glowering at your smaller body compared to him.

Cuffs bit the skin around your wrists and ankles. Cold hovered all over your exposed skin. With the little amount of coverage on your body, naked was the closest you could describe yourself.

The man held you by the neck, treating you like an animal for exhibition. He was getting off your winces. How a small whimper would shiver out of your lips when he dragged you too fast. He thought he could do them to you just because you were sedated.

If he only knew how much you wanted to smash his face on the wall. But you had to keep an act.

Besides, that was all he could do. Watch. Because you were for other people to ogle at. For disgusting, cowardly men who couldn't make their wives cum, much less you, even if you tried.

You were a new addition to their attraction. Tonight was your first night. And you planned for it to be the last.

A woman who was trying her best to avoid eye contact with you walked the opposite way of where you were headed. She carried a tray, where a small letter knife sat seductively.

Half of her face was lined by a scar, dragging diagonally across her left temple down to her right cheek. Although the scar was visible, you couldn't help but notice how beautiful her eyes were. They were of bright grey-blue.

Without missing your chance, you purposely bumped into her, falling on your feet. "Sorry," You weakly smirked, swiping the knife in a blink of an eye.

"You fucking bitch! Look where you're going, you ugly shit!" The man shouted at the woman, kicking the tray in the middle of her picking it up.

You drilled in your head how many times you would apologize to her when you managed to escape the place and watch it crumble down during your arrest.

"It was my fault," You defended timidly. Despite the mental promise of keeping an act of being sedated, you couldn't just stand there and let her take all the blame.

The man glared at you and swung his arm. You prepared for the harsh impact, but another guy called out his name.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Are you fucking stupid?!" The other man yelled; he had blonde hair and an awful beard.

You took that chance to slip the knife on your back, strapped under your bra's band, hiding it beneath the cascade of your hair. You bit your bottom lip, your movement causing a slight sting to shoot down your spine. At least you were certain that the knife was sharp.

The blonde man yanked you to his side protectively, as if what he was about to do was going to be a god-like behavior. "She's a new attraction. No one would pay if she's damaged. A bruise would lose us thousands of dollars, you stupid fuck." He lectured the other, nudging you to move.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron immediately felt dirty just by standing amongst the men that impatiently waited for some tits to jiggle or ass to bounce across the one-way mirror.

Each of them either held wads of cash or a glass of their chosen drinks. Most of them were wealthy nobodies, but Aaron recognized a few politicians from distant cities.

He lifted a glass close to his lips. Aaron has been catering the drink for a good two hours now, sipping little drops to keep himself sober and alert.

So far, he hasn't seen you. There just might be hope that you were simply in hiding but safe regardless. He has seen fifteen women being shown off like antiques, the men screaming for their high prices. If he could only buy all of them to safety, he would. But Aaron was there for you and you only.

"Gentlemen! Here's our special and last beauty of the night! She's new! Fresh! And untouched! She is available for dine in to the highest bidder!"

Aaron's grip on his glass tightened.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Jeanne slid a picture of you toward Aaron. "She's a brave one." Her breath hitched, fighting the urge to cry in front of profilers.

Your hair was tied up away from your face, revealing all your beautiful facial features. You were no doubt a gorgeous woman.

But besides your attractive face, Aaron's eyes were drawn to the gold necklace that sat on your chest. It was a gladiolus flower. A hidden smile spread over his lips.

It symbolizes strength and power. He immediately knew you were someone who always put up a fight.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Your hair almost hid the beauty of your face, but Aaron recognized the necklace around your neck even from afar. It was you.

"$20,000!"

"$50,000!"

"50! Anyone want to top that? What? I heard $80,000!"

"100,000 dollars!"

Aaron stared at your dagger, glaring eyes. He let a smirk twitch his lips.

You knew.

You knew where you were. You knew men were fighting for you. You knew. Which meant, you weren't sedated at all.

"Smart girl," He mumbled to himself before announcing, "Five billion."

The crowd went quiet. And if Aaron had been honest, he would've paid more because you were worth more.

Sadly, the bureau had a budget. He had to limit himself to 500 thousand and could move to 1 million if needed, but he'd explain his actions in the privacy of his office later on.

In that moment, he only needed to rescue you.

The announcer grinned maniacally, hitting the gavel against the sounding block. "One night dine in with this beauty, sold!"

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

You weren't sure what type of man was unlucky enough to buy your time tonight. You bet he wouldn't expect a violent woman like you.

In spite of your display earlier, you were now clothed with more fabric. Lace to be specific.

They made you change into a black lace set. The bra pushed up every tits you could offer. A cheeky underwear that made your ass rounder. A garter around your waist that hooked on your black stockings that hugged your thighs deliciously.

You moved the letter knife on your right thigh. Easy access under the short black satin nightgown. You were prepared for battle.

The door swung open and came in the blonde man who seemed to keep his eyes on you. "Sit on the chair." He demanded.

You internally protested but obliged. He placed back your handcuffs, bringing your wrists together. In his mind, there was no other way for you to escape but the door.

"This guy paid a lot for your time. Don't mess up. Or I'm going to make you regret it." He threatened before leaving the room.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

The payment process was crucial. Money was an immediate factor, and Aaron mentally apologized to David for using his card and for memorizing his bank account information.

They led him down a hall filled with private rooms. Pornographic noises echoed as they passed each door. Most were from men. And if the voice of a woman managed to vibrate across the walls, they were a plea to be let go.

Aaron swore his ears were bleeding with disgust.

"This will be your room, Sir. Enjoy." The man excitedly said. He leaned a little, placing a hand on the side of his mouth to hide the words he was about to say, "I say you get the best out of this one. Everyone's dying to get a taste."

He managed to hold his fists back, urging a smug smirk to roll over his lips. "Then, I suggest you don't disturb us," Aaron stated before watching the man nod and walk away.

Aaron held the knob with hesitation. He wasn't sure of what he was going to be met with. He took a deep breath and twisted the knob, pushing the door open.

There you were, sat on a chair, patiently waiting for him.

The image was to be treasured, but Aaron had to remind himself that he wasn't any similar to the men who frequented that place.

A spark flickered in your eyes. Your lips slowly curved onto a smirk. "Hey, old man." You started in a teasing tone. "You can't just stand there and keep the door open."

Aaron's eyebrows knitted, but closed the door nonetheless after checking that the coast was clear from listening ears. "I'm Aaron Hotchner—" You cut him off.

"Strip." You casually ordered, taking him by surprise.

He studied you for a moment, keeping his mouth from any type of noise. Were you sober? Was his first question.

"What are you? A cop? Fed? It's fine. It doesn't matter. Now, Aaron, strip. They're watching." Your head motioned towards the direction of the camera in the corner of the ceiling.

He took off his jacket and then began to undo his tie. "Fed. How did you know? We were thorough on my... disguise." Aaron couldn't believe he was referring to his appearance as a disguise.

You rolled your eyes, "A fine-looking man like you doesn't look the type to wear a wrinkly shirt. You're obviously wired." Your voice echoed in a matter-of-fact tone. "You took your first step with your left foot when you got inside the room, but it's clear to me that your dominant is your right. You have a gun. Which I think is pretty impractical. Come closer, you're here to fuck me, remember?" Your brows were raised, impatient for him to move.

Aaron would be lying if he said your words weren't affecting him. "You have a good eye." He stood before you, glowering down your face.

"Or you're just a bad undercover." You smirked, "What are you waiting for? Kiss me."

A silent huff escaped your lips when he froze. You stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt. "You're very quick to have cold feet, Agent Hotchner." The way his name rolled off your tongue was distracting.

"Hold my waist—" You swiftly grabbed his hands and placed them on your sides, "—once you have a character to play, you embody it. Because it'll get us both killed if you don't." You kissed a little of his exposed chest and looked up at him with a hairpin stuck between your lips. "Now, kiss me." You repeated in a muffled sound.

Aaron finally caught up with your plans. He leaned down and owned your lips, kissing the pin from you. With one hand, he took the pin and reattached your lips together as he began to unlock your cuffs from between your bodies.

You pulled him closer, tugging his belt loops. You led the two of you on the corner of the room, under the vision of the camera. And just as your back made contact with the wall, you felt your hands free.

You pulled away with a gasp of relief, "Thank god, I thought I had to fuck your brains out before you could even understand." You heaved, rotating your wrist to let the blood circulate once again.

Aaron looked away, "Sorry." He couldn't help but notice your closeness.

"Mhm, must be that old-fashioned you've been sipping like coffee."

His gaze shifted back to you. The taste might've been lingering on his lips, but the action he took? How did you know he was taking his time with his drink? Aaron would think that you're a profiler if he didn't know any better.

"You owe me a bubblegum," You exclaimed, pulling him back from his trance. "I prefer a proper old fashioned. Whoever made your drink was pitiful."

Aaron raised a brow, "I'll pay you a box of bubblegum just for that statement." His eyes were drawn to your purple wrists. "Did they hurt you?" He asked, fanning his breath on your skin.

"They wouldn't even if they wanted to. My beauty has never failed to save my ass." You chuckled, getting a whiff of his scent. Your nose crinkled, "Who made you wear that nasty cologne?"

He chuckled at your expression, "Jeanne."

Your face softened, nodding. "Makes sense. She has bad taste in men."

Aaron was having too much fun, when a voice echoed in his head.

"Hotch, are you there? If you don't answer, we're going to barge in."

He pressed the microphone, "We're fine."

"We?" Derek questioned from the other line.

Aaron told the team that he'd found you, using your first name with such gentleness in his voice. "We're about to make our way out." He announced, still flushed against you, caging you in his build.

"[Earlier, she was just 'the victim,' but now, you're on a first-name basis?" Emily teased, which Aaron rolled his eyes on.

Your brows knitted, confused by his expressions. While he busied himself chatting with whoever was speaking in his ear, you began climbing on him like he was a ladder.

You fished your knife and cut the wire of the camera. Aaron's height was a huge help for you to reach such a high place.

He helped you get down, gently holding your waist to guide you. "Don't tell me you were already planning to escape?" Aaron was filled with amusement.

"I was going to kill you if you weren't a fed." You shrugged, walking out of his body cage. You picked up his jacket from the floor, "Mind if I borrow this?"

"It doesn't suit me anyways," Aaron kidded, earning a soft smile from your still plumped lips.

"[Oh, really?]" Derek taunted in his ear. Snickers rang through the speaker, and Aaron was thankful that you couldn't hear anything.

You glanced back at him, "Tell your friends we're on our way out. They should meet us halfway. The guys outside are not skilled in combat, but they have guns. We'd be dead before they can even shout 'hallelujah' if they don't move now." You slipped your arms inside the sleeves of the jacket.

The jacket could almost swallow your whole body. You rolled the sleeves up a little, allowing yourself some movement. Aaron couldn't take his eyes off you. He loved the way his clothes looked way better on you, even if it wasn't his in the first place.

"Did you get that?" Aaron spoke to his ear, nodding when he got a confirmation. He glanced at you with a stern look, and you two would never admit the small tug on his lips. "Let's get you out of here."

You scoffed, "Your help is just a bonus. I'm saving myself out of this hell."

With silent agreement, you opened the door, immediately greeted by two men who were about to check on your state.

"Hey—"

You didn't give one of them a chance to finish shouting when you kicked the protrusion on his neck straight into the center of his throat.

Aaron's eyes widened. Did France Interpol really need the BAU's help? You definitely didn't look like you did.

You took the two men all by yourself, stepping on someone's back as you placed a hand on your hip. You stared at Aaron with disbelief. "You just gonna stand there?"

Before he could even respond, Aaron saw a man about to attack you from behind. He pulled you by the waist with one hand and punched the man with the other.

"You okay?" Aaron twisted his neck in your direction, hand still on your waist.

A wide grin swiped over your lips, adrenaline pumping through your veins. And your body moved like it was dancing to upbeat music.

The two of you fought your way out of the hallway. It made every second of waiting to escape worth it.

By the time the team met you, you and Aaron had beaten up about half of the men in the place, minus those who were merely guests.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Jeanne attacked you with a tight embrace, cutting your air supply. "I'm so glad you're safe! Oh, mon dieu!"

Next came Liam, punching your arm. He offered a welcoming smile. "I told you to always keep your tracker with you." He scolded lightly.

"I did!" You reasoned, a playful smile over your face. "I swallowed it, but I didn't expect to shit it out and flush it down the toilet." If you were lying it would've been way easier, but you weren't.

The BAU team introduced themselves one by one. You flashed them the same sweet smile you had on your picture.

"Behavioral analysis unit..." You nodded in thought. "Sounds real." You added with a teasing smile.

Their eyes couldn't help but notice how Aaron's jacket still sat around your shoulders. They weren't so slick as they thought, "It's collateral." You lifted your shoulders.

They looked at you with narrowed eyes. A chuckle coming out of your lips, you motioned your head in Aaron's direction where he was talking to Jeanne and a short-haired, dirty blonde woman.

"He owes me," You announced playfully.

Spencer was the first to furrow his brows closer than it already was. Why would their boss owe you? Aaron saved you. If anything, you owe his unit chief.

"I can hear you judging me, Dr. Reid." You said without moving your gaze onto his. "Is that a side effect of being a genius?"

Emily's mouth flung open, "How'd you know he's a genius? He looks like one, right? Right?" She was friendlier than you had concluded.

You smiled, glancing at Spencer. "I've been an undercover for sixteen years. Reading someone became my second nature. I suspect it's the same for all of you since you can't stop knitting your brows as if you're reading a difficult textbook."

"Sixteen? How old are you?" Derek had a great estimation of your age; everyone did.

"She's thirty-six. So old, right?" Liam wrapped an arm around you, grinning.

"You started when you were twenty?" Spencer curiously asked. An underlying question in his mind. How?

You pursed your lips, a small pop echoing between all of you. "You know those movies where the character was raised to her parents' trophy?" They nodded simultaneously, like children eager for their mother's story. "My life was kind of like that." You explained carefully.

The others joined you, making short eye contact with Aaron. Jeanne stood next to you. "And we're sad that she's retiring." She announced lightly.

JJ looked at you in awe. You were only a few years older than her. It was inspiring to hear your story. "What are you gonna do after you retire?"

"Find a job that's less undercover work, but still occupies most of my days. Old habits die hard." In short, you didn't have a plan. All you knew was that after the case, you didn't want to work as undercover anymore.

"Come work with us!" Penelope blurted, earning everyone's attention. She glanced at Aaron, "We have an opening. Right, Hotch?" A sly smile decorated her cheery face.

Aaron raised his eyebrows, then met your gaze. He still owed you a box of bubblegum if he remembers clearly. And seeing your gorgeous face and watching you take down unsub more often didn't sound like such a horrible idea.

He bit the threatening smirk on his lips. "Yeah, I think we do."

[savagewildnerness]

One for Renaud’s. I don’t know. It felt like being on piano, despite Nicolas’ violining…

“Beautiful this little place, our place. The portal to the world for us as mortal beings. And the portal finally to hell.”

With full disclosure, I actually forgot about the “And the portal finally to hell.” line while I did the improvisation. Really, me: it’s only 3 sentences long & yet you forgot one?! Yes. Yes, I forgot.

But maybe it might have gotten close anyway? I’ve no idea. I *was* thinking on the tragedy of Lestat’s mortal dreams & the tragedy of Nicolas in entirety, so…