#Paris Museum Pass

[goingplacesfarandnear]

Visiting Paris This Year? Plan in Advance

If you have a hope of seeing the Mona Lisa at Le Louvre, book your timed ticket as soon as you book your travel to Paris © Karen Rubin/goingplacesfarandnear.com By Karen Rubin, Travel Features Syndicate, goingplacesfarandnear.com If you are planning to visit Paris his year, it is especially important to make plans really early, lock in reservations to visit the sites, attractions, restaurants,…

[knownoshamc]

how I think want 70s-80s Devil's Minion is going to be (unpopular?). An essay, by me. (edit: apparently I do have to make it clear that these are all my own headcanons and I'm aware that they are not a healthy couple)

The "chase" lasts a couple of months instead of years

they start as the popular fucked up sex

Armand takes Daniel on a hunt, to show him how he plays with his food sometimes, how look I could be doing the same to you. But Daniel very loudly thinks fuck that's hot

Daniel starts picking up on how Armand behaves during sex (even how dissociates sometimes), since most of the time it's when and how Daniel wants (the normal thing for Armand). He starts checking on him more, like you sure, we can do something else // are you comfortable with that? // are you okay? it's just sex for them, sure, but there is this change.

but... they also start dating. once, for fun, they are curious. more dating. Dates are Armand using his mind gift so they have the restaurant by themselves. Taking Daniel to the top of a building so he can have the best view. Museums, galleries, movies...

And Armand brings him flowers, chocolates and poetry and Daniel playfully rolls his eyes and then giggles and kisses him and he even keeps the now dried flowers. Daniel returns the favour, and Armand looks at him as if he brought him the most exquisite and most expensive gift in the world.

Daniel makes Armand laugh for the first time (Armand smiles, smirks even grins, but he doesn't easily laugh) and Daniel realizes he is in love with him. He loves how Armand can be ruthless, cruel, cold with the humans he hunts before giving them an easeful death. He loves how excited with simple things like a phone, a microwave, a blender. How he lets his mask slip sometimes (more and more as time passes) and he sees the real him, the vulnerable side he rarely shows, the anger towards the world he thinks he doesn't deserve to feel.

Armand realises he is in love with Daniel earlier, in little moments, like how human Daniel is and how for the first time in centuries that is fascinating and not indifferent. And he loves Daniel because of how excited he is when he writes something or when he wants to read to Armand an interesting book/article/something he wrote, how clever he is, how he can be cold and compassionate at the same time...

And they talk about little and big things, from a good restaurant that Armand saw pass from generation to generation, to philosophy. And Armand reads Daniel's mind to see if his mind wanders and... Daniel is fully invested. Like I love getting to know you, how you think, what you think, who you are, tell me all about you. And Armand does. He tells Daniel the most.

they are in love and explore the world together and all its fascination and simplicity, and they are really happy.

but... Daniel doesn't want this to end, he wants to stay young forever, he wants to spend forever with Armand. How can't Armand see that this is not just because Daniel wants to be with him for eternity?

Armand sees how his own darkness but lure Daniel in... a bit too much. How he thinks that watching someone die and getting a life is the same thing, how he romanticises vampirism. How maybe he focuses on Armand a lot, and misses a deadline at work. A work that he loves. Maybe one day he catches a fleeting thought of Daniel wanting children someday. But he doesn't bring it up right away. He doesn't want to lose him. And he just can't understand how Daniel can love him unconditionally.

Then Daniel proposes to him in Paris. He has a ring and a romantic little speech to go along with it. But does it really mean he loves him? Or that he wants for Armand to make him a vampire? Isn't that what marriage is, after all, a promise of forever? How can Daniel just love him? So he says no.

Daniel is hurt, he is angry that Armand doesn't really trust his love and he tells him that yeah maybe he does want kids, a family, normality. And maybe a part of him does. They break up.

Daniel meets a girl, Alice. He doesn't fall in love, she doesn't really fall in love either, but they like each other. They get together. She gets pregnant.

Daniel needs Armand's blood (he needs Armand) but he can't have that, so he turns to his old comfort, drugs. It gets bad, he goes back to Armand, asking to get back together, asking for his blood, Armand says no and Daniel storms off to get his high somewhere else. He comes back a couple of days later, apologising and promising he won't ever do it again, he will really get clean this time. Again. And again. Until he comes very close to overdosing, and Armand takes care of him until he can actually go to a rehab facility, even though Daniel just begs him for his blood, to just turn him or let him die.

And this time, he knows what to do. Daniel can't have his normal life if Armand is still in his mind. So he just... erases it all. It's the only way. He couldn't see another way. And Daniel understands what Armand intends to do and he is crying, asking him not to do it, that he can get over this on his own, but Armand doesn't trust him, so he just tries to calm him down, telling him how great his life is going to be, with a brilliant career, a family... happiness. An easeful breakup.

thank you for coming to my ted talk

[cloakedsparrow]

A 'Jason & Tim Join the Bat Family Early' fic in which Jason and Tim meet six months to a year before Jason would have met Bruce in canon.

Jason spends a lot of time at the Gotham City Library for warmth/air conditioning/safety, education and entertainment. Tim spends a lot of time there too, doing homework and reading for fun/education since he prefers it to his usually empty house. They meet when Jason helps Tim reach a book that's too high for him and ends up commenting on it. They start by just reading in the same space and talking while Jason waits with Tim at the bus stop. Eventually, they start hanging out outside the library, first chatting on the steps and eventually getting pizza or burgers (Jason isn't too proud to accept food when Tim offers to pay) and moving to the nearest park where they can talk about what they're reading.

Tim realizes that Jason is homeless but at first doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to upset or offend his new friend. When Thanksgiving Break approaches, he broaches the subject to suggest Jason come stay with him during it, since his parents won't be home. Jason trusts Tim by then, and he really likes the idea of having unlimited access to a shower/bed/food/heating, so he accepts. They get along well enough, and the Drakes are gone often enough, that they decide to basically move Jason in. The maids only come a couple times a week, gardeners once a week, and the grocery delivery every other week, and none of them are allowed in Tim's room, so it's easy enough for Jason to either hide from them, be at the library when they come, or pass himself off as a friend visiting Tim.

This goes on for months before Tim decides that, as much as he loves Jason and loves having him there, the older boy deserves to have a real home with a real family. And he knows of the perfect family.

Tim may know a little more about Dick Grayson's schedule than is normal, but it works in his favor that he's able to make sure he and Jason happen to be at a museum exhibit Dick's also attending. They meet and it's nothing huge, but Tim notices the older teen glancing at him and Jason periodically. Later, the same thing happens at the aquarium. And then Little Paris. By then, Dick is basically ready to adopt Jason himself. Of course, Bruce does so instead once he tells him his plans.

(This has the added benefit of bridging the divide between Bruce and Dick at this time)

The Drakes' house is just on the other side of Bristol, which is easily the safest neighborhood in Gotham, so Tim can just ride his bike or skateboard over to hang out with Jason at Wayne Manor. Instead of the library or the Drakes' empty house, the boys start hanging out at Jason's new home.

Now, it's Jason's turn to get Tim (and his negligent parents) on his new family's radar so they'll adopt him, too.

After some training, Dick happily passes the Robin mantle to Jason, who happily shares it with Tim once the younger boy is old enough.

[Bonus: Dick checks around the Todd's old place to see if there's anything left of Jason's parents, since he knows he cherishes everything he has from his own. He gets the box of family records from their old neighbor and learns that Catherine wasn't Jason's biological mother. He and Bruce decide to quietly locate her and make sure she's safe for Jason to meet. They learn about Shelia's crimes, and arrange for her to be arrested, giving Jason the choice to visit her in prison or not. During their search, they learn about Lady Shiva having a kid and decide to look into that, which leads to them bringing Cassandra home a couple years early. Jason and Tim are delighted to have a big sister.]

[showmey0urfangs]

please post the loumand fanficion recommendations!

Alright, since you guys asked so nicely.😌 Here is, in no particular order, my season 2 edition of:

As usual, my main criteria for selection is that Loumand had to be the only or at least the main pairing. So this will not include fics where they're only a side pairing or just mentioned in passing.

Also, also...⚠DISCLAIMER!!! Most of these fics are rated Mature or Explicit, and some are heavy on the angst and feature very dark themes, but ig that's the sort of thing Loumand inspires. So, proceed with caution and mind the tags. (ᵔ.ᵔ)

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➼ A Dark Night in San Francisco by literary_genius

Rating: E | Words: 17.3k | Chapters: 5/5 | Additional Tags: 70s Era, Dom/sub

Summary:

❝ Taking place before he meets Daniel, Louis is high on a victim and has made a mess. Armand is pissed and Louis challenges him to do something about it.❞

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➼ Inside, upstairs by malicewithheld

Rating: E | Words: 2.3k | Chapters: 1/1 | Additional Tags: Paris Era, First Time

Summary:

❝ This does not come entirely naturally to him, Louis thinks. For all his preternatural grace little seems to come naturally to him at all.❞

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➼ Road toll by eyebrowofdoom

Rating: E | Words: 3.1k | Chapters: 1/1 | Additional Tags: Paris Era, First Time

Summary:

❝ My darling Louis was so delicate, when he described where I first approached him, all those years ago in Paris. A park.

Other people would say it was a cottage. A tearoom, a beat, a cruising place. A tasse, a lieu de drague. (One shot, post s02e02.)❞

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➼ your heart to carry by mercuryhatter

Rating: E | Words: 1.5k | Chapters: 1/1 | Additional Tags: Paris Era, Dom/sub

Summary:

❝ "What were you saying, beautiful?'" Louis asked, then grinned when Armand's mouth opened with no answer in it. "Yeah, I thought so." Louis tucked one finger underneath that silk scarf, right next to where he could feel Armand's faint, slow pulse in the large vein of his neck. A front-row seat to the catch of Armand's breath in his throat.

"I think I wanna go home now," Louis said, letting only a hint of a smile into his slow, deliberate tone. "What do you think?"

When Armand said "yes, maitre," it was breathless, and so surprisingly earnest it stole Louis' breath in turn.❞

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➼ there's another memory that gets stuck by sahwen

Rating: E | Words: 2.4k | Chapters: 1/1 | Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary:

❝ “Do you think you can alter the taste of your blood?” Louis asked, the picture of innocence as he peaked at Armand from behind the magazine.

Or: "Honey and pineapple. He stuffs himself with both for days before offering himself to me."

Or: Amsterdam, 1996. Armand is desperate not to be flavorless.❞

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➼ inhuman taste by inthebelltower

Rating: E | Words: 1.2k | Chapters: 1/1 | Additional Tags: Paris Era, Dom/sub

Summary:

❝ Louis feels the frisson in the air, the thrumming bass of Armand’s arousal as he speaks the words. Hell, even a mortal man could see how his breathing accelerates, the heavy rise and fall of his chest.❞

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➼ Crack in the Mirror / Bloodstain on the Bed by williamshooketh

Rating: E | Words: 1.2k | Chapters: 1/1 | Additional Tags: Angst, Dom/sub

Summary:

❝ Armand laughs at Louis a little through a closed mouth and moves his foot out of the way. He keeps a grip on his ankle.

“You want to run me like one of your working girls back home," he says.

Marriage is hard work.❞

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I'll finish off with a few of my own because...why not!?

➼ Baby, you're a work of art by Showmeyourfangs

Rating: T | Words: 1.5k | Chapters: 1/1 | Additional Tags: Dubai era, Domestic Fluff

Summary:

❝ Louis and Armand visit a museum in Rome and Louis makes an important realization.❞

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➼ Pendulum by Showmeyourfangs

Rating: E | Words: 3.9k | Chapters: 1/1 | Additional Tags: Dubai era, Light Dom/Sub

Summary:

❝ This too was part of the game. The control was like a sliding door between them, a pendulum that continuously swung back and forth—alternatively, slave and master but always beholden to one another. It was a game they had been playing for eighty years now and Louis never tired of it.

Or: Louis and Armand have a bit of fun and relaxation after a hard interview session.❞

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➼ Who Would Trade That Hum Of Night by Showmeyourfangs

Rating: M | Words: 5.8k | Chapters: 4/4 | Additional Tags: Paris era, Alternate Ending

Summary:

❝ “Why don’t you want him to know how much you love him?” Armand heard the woman Madeleine ask.

“That’s a little personal,” Louis replied and there was a fondness in his voice that Armand had never heard before.

Armand felt sick, the blood from his earlier kill twisting unpleasantly in his stomach. He could sense Tuan, Quang and Gustave, poised and ready at the back entrance of the small café, their crude minds gleeful at the prospect of what they were about to do.

Or: The much needed Season 2 Fix it fic (or is it?)❞

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Happy reading! 😊 ✨

[copperbadge]

I went to the library this afternoon, intending to get a study room and do some work on the novel, but I got distracted and ended up spending the two hours working on a short story instead.

Georgie has said that Michaelis hired her after she rescued his friend's child from a kidnapping, and it was suggested to me recently that the friend could be Oliver McAllister, Michaelis's old school mate from Pirates of the Riviera. I was skeptical because the timing didn't quite work out, but I couldn't stop thinking about the idea, so I decided to try making it work.

And let me tell you, these messy bitches.

In 2015, Michaelis is deep in his Kingbot 3000 phase so he doesn't have to Have Feelings, and Gregory has coerced him into taking a vacation by threatening a coup. Meanwhile, Olly is fresh from his second divorce, from a woman who just tried to kidnap their child. Georgie is the most together person in the room and she's an unemployed twentysomething who just beat three men unconscious to prevent said kidnapping.

And the most amusing part to me is that because of how I set it up, Michaelis is just trying to be friendly but inadvertently keeps coming across like he's trying to seduce Georgie. Which also makes Georgie joking about trying to marry him for his money in Royals/Ramblers even funnier.

"Ma'am, the police would like to take a statement," Lael said to Georgie.

"I can have Lael find you a lawyer if you want," Michaelis added. She gave him a sardonic look. 

"All right, let's get it over with," she sighed. "There goes my visit to the Musee D'Orsay."

"We'll give you the room. Olly, why don't you go in with your boy, so the police can speak with you if needed. Lael and I will be at the cafe next door when you've finished."

Georgie nodded, but he stopped as he passed her and put a hand on her arm.

"Come see us when you're done," he said quietly, ducking his head so the police at the doorway couldn't see their faces. "And cancel your job interview in London."

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Stay in Paris. You can see the museum this weekend. The palace will cover your lodging and food."

"I...don't want to offend," she said slowly, "but I'm not -- " 

"I'm not flirting with you," he said, realizing belatedly how it might seem to her, and taking his hand from her arm. She looked faintly relieved. "I'm going to spend the time you're giving a statement assembling a job offer for you with my security office. Any young woman who can spot a kidnapping before it happens and soundly beat three grown men should not be leaving Askazer-Shivadlakia to do a job she hates in London. Now, regardless of that, and I say this as a concerned friend, not as king or employer: be honest and helpful with the police, but...economical."

"Just the facts?" she asked. 

"Exactly." He gave her an approving nod and followed Lael out. They were silent in the hallway and lobby, until they stepped out into the street and Lael exhaled.

"That was impressive," he said. "Young lady has a great right hook."

"She's certainly very alert," Michaelis agreed.

"It's been a long time since I've seen someone throw a punch like that."

"Say it and you're fired," Michaelis said good-naturedly. He'd known Lael since the head of security had been a young palace aide during Michaelis's first days as king -- if still years older than the king himself -- and he knew what was coming. 

"Not since our last trip to Galia," Lael said, voice full of relish. "That time a young hothead punched Duke Tomas in the face."

"Utterly fired. I've found your replacement. I'm putting you out to pasture with no pension." 

"You think she'd make a good successor to me?" Lael asked. He was joking but, simultaneously, he was not -- they were both getting older, and Lael was as aware as Michaelis that when a new king was elected in a few years, whoever it was, they would need someone younger, someone who could more easily keep up with them. 

"You tell me," Michaelis said. "You're the expert." 

"Oh, I've been fired, clearly my opinion isn't wanted," Lael said, as they settled into a table at the cafe, Lael with his back to the wall, eyes always scanning behind Michaelis. There had never, at least as far as Michaelis knew, been an attempt on his life, but he'd become used to never getting direct eye contact in public from the man whose job it was, after all, to watch his back. 

"Fine, I withdraw your firing. I suspect purely on her ability to sass me, she is your equal if not your better," he added, as the waitress approached. He ordered coffee and pastries briskly, then turned back to Lael. 

"Well, it's difficult to tell on two minutes' acquaintance," Lael replied, "but actions do speak louder than words." 

"Agreed. Perhaps a contingent offer? She has a law degree; she could likely earn more than we could offer her for a job like yours, but I think she's looking for the right job, not the right pay. Say three months of probation with guaranteed six months of pay to ensure she takes it, and a firm permanent offer at the end if you approve? Conditions non-negotiable but a bit of wiggle room in the salary, I think." 

Lael considered it, then nodded. "I suppose it's paranoia to imagine she might have arranged all this to get into the Palace employ."

"As what, a spy? I love a thriller novel, Lael, but they are fiction," Michaelis replied, amused.

[hard--headed--woman]

Rose Valland !

She was a French Resistance fighter who rescued and recovered more than 60,000 works of art and cultural property stolen by the Nazis from public institutions and Jewish families during the German occupation!!! For that, she was nicknamed "Capitaine Beaux-Arts"

Rose was born in 1898 and died in 1980. Although she never spoke publicly about her private life and sexual orientation, she never married, and the only relationship she ever had was with a woman.

She was able to study thanks to her mother, who applied for grants for her daughter. In 1914, she entered the École normale d'institutrices in Grenoble, graduating in 1918. Gifted for drawing and encouraged by her teachers, she left to study at the École nationale des beaux-arts in Lyon.

She gained a good reputation there, because she was talented and serious, and won a lot of prizes! In 1922, she entered the École nationale supérieure des beaux-arts in Paris. She then passed the competitive examination for teaching drawing, coming 6th out of more than 300 candidates.

During the 1920s, she studied art history at the École Pratique des Hautes Études, the École du Louvre and the Institut d'Art et d'Archéologie. In 1931, she obtained her diploma from the École du Louvre on the evolution of the Italian art movement up to Giotto. At the Institute of Art and Archaeology at the University of Paris, she obtained three postgraduate certificates in modern art history, medieval archaeology and Greek archaeology. She was so intelligent and cultured, with so many diplomas, it's impressive! She published some studies and articles too, and she even learned to speak some languages like German without even studying it.

From October 1940, at the request of Jacques Jaujard, Director of the Musées Nationaux, she remained at the Musée du Jeu de Paume, officially as a curatorial attaché, unofficially instructed by Jacques Jaujard to report to him on the actions of the Germans, who had just requisitioned the museum to store works of art extorted from private collectors.

During the Occupation, the Germans began systematically looting works from museums and private collections across France, mainly those belonging to Jews who had been deported or had fled. They used the Jeu de Paume museum as a central depot before sorting and directing the works to various destinations in Germany, Austria and Eastern Europe. During the Nazi looting, Rose Valland discreetly recorded, as accurately as possible, the movements of the works passing through the Musée du Jeu de Paume, the names of the looted victims, the number of works, their destinations, the names of the agents in charge of the transfers, the names of the transporters, the marks and writing on the crates, the numbers and dates of the convoys, not forgetting the name of the artist, the work and its dimensions.

For over four years, she kept track of all the works' movements, origins and destinations. She scrupulously drew up dozens of index cards, deciphered German carbon paper discarded in the museum's garbage cans, and discreetly listened in on the conversations of Nazi officials. She provided the Resistance with essential, detailed information on the trains transporting the works, so that these convoys could be spared by the Resistance. In autumn 1944, she gave the Allies the names of German and Austrian depots (Altaussee, Buxheim, Neuschwanstein, Füssen, Nikolsburg, etc.) to avoid bombing, secure them and facilitate the recovery of stored works.

After the liberation of Paris by Allied troops, and until May 1, 1945, she worked with SHAEF (Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force), providing the Americans with vital information on storage sites for works transferred to Germany and Austria.

From May 1945, she was seconded from the Ministry of National Education to the Ministry of War, then from 1946 to 1952, seconded as a 3rd class administrator to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, occupying the Secretariat of State and then the General Commissariat for German and Austrian Affairs. Nicknamed "Captain Beaux-arts", she was appointed Captain in the 1st French Army, while also serving as Head of the Service de remise en place des œuvres d'art (SROA) within the Public Education Division of the French Group of the Board of Control.

She was sent to the various Allied occupation zones, British, American and Soviet, from where she repatriated a large number of works. She cooperated with American agents to conduct investigations and interrogate the Nazi officers and merchants responsible for the looting.

She played a decisive role in the February 1946 Nuremberg hearings on the plundering of art by Nazi leaders.

Between 1945 and 1954, she took part in the repatriation of over 60,000 items of French cultural property taken from public institutions and persecuted Jewish families.

Her courageous and heroic actions during the war and post-war years earned her numerous French and foreign decorations. In fact, Rose Valland was one of the most highly decorated women in French history.

She was :

-> made an Officer of the Legion of Honor

-> made a Commander of the Order of Arts and Letters

-> awarded the French Resistance Medal

-> awarded the Medal of Freedom, the highest civilian decoration in the USA

-> made an Officer of the Order of Merit of the Federal Republic of Germany

-> awarded the Latvian medal of the Order of the Three Stars in recognition of her involvement in the Latvian Art Exhibition (painting, sculpture and folk art), held at the Jeu de Paume from January 27 to February 28, 1939.

Unfortunately, as is often the case with women in history, the role she played in the Resistance, protecting French works of art and the property of deported Jewish people, was quickly forgotten, and her name is hardly ever mentioned today when this part of history is evoked. Insane, when you know everything she's done and how many decorations she got...

At an undetermined time, perhaps in the post-war years, Rose Valland met the British woman Joyce Heer, secretary-interpreter at the U.S. Embassy, who became her lover until her death. The two women shared an apartment on rue de Navarre in Paris. Rose Valland reserved a place for her beside her in the family vault.

Rose Valland died in 1980 at the age of 81 in a nursing home in Ris-Orangis, outside Paris. She is buried with her lover in the family vault in her native village of Saint-Étienne-de-Saint-Geoirs, where the secondary school and a square bear her name.

She truly was a hero, and I wish we talked about her more !

[1-49]

TOURIST GUIDE: The top 7 things you don’t want to be doing when in Paris.

Imagine,

the brightest, most perfect winter’s day imaginable. Crisp, chilly, and beautiful. Warm cafés, busy streets, and gentle breezes ──── stellar architecture, metros, and museums. If anything, Paris is the most magical place on earth, but having Sungchan there makes it even more so.

That being said,

here is a list of the Top 8 things and situations to look out for, & don’t indulge in when you are in Paris if you don’t want to fall in love. A doomed guide for both tourists and locals, eh.

tags: fluff, love, sure it carries its angst though ⁝ fun concept to approach given i wasn’t going to write a fic nor it fits exactly into headcanon, so yeah. he has made me dizzy with his paris photos im sooo sorry. wc. 3k

Fan fact: The French term ‘Coup de foudre’ describes when someone feels completely blown away by someone they have recently met. In literal terms, it means lightning strike. If you have been ‘struck by lightning’ in this way, a common feeling is that you can tell the person everything bc they just get you

Good luck!

THE CRASH

A stunning stranger seated a short distance away from you in a small cafe is always a threat—but this is not just any stunning stranger. As you converse with your friend, he’s also conversing with his group of friends. Passing phones and a camera make their giggles sound like a good time. 

Every chance you get, you glance at him while speaking with your friend because it’s so tempting to do so. Little sparks shoot out the moment the stare is returned; when your gazes meet halfway; when he’s caught, too, for naively trying to get your attention.

When your friend catches on to the fact that you’re looking at what is behind her rather than her.

When she turns around to reinvestigate the situation and notices that he’s staring in your direction, she instantly understands.

When she gives him a smile and turns back to face you, who moved too slowly to stop her.

The stranger which then believes that you both had a conversation about him.

The friend who first exposed you is also the one who is now pushing you to use the restroom; for if he meets you halfway again, chances are good he’s into you too.

Her point is validated when you find yourself in a small hallway, pretending to scroll through your phone, as he moves toward you.

Scents of rich vanilla, chocolate, coffee, and wine fill the dimly lit secluded part of the café, which has burgundy walls. His physique is too large to fit in the narrow hallway. His eyes and smile translate love. His confession is full of tenderness, affection, & promising good times.

THE ‘NO’ PLAN

It’s already outside of your plan to plan the remainder of your day. Order breaks out. Chaos ensues. What was already set in motion was interrupted by him, a tourist named Sungchan. But a Paris show-off won’t be a show-off without a museum, so there goes that theory. 

In any case, a museum or art gallery is a must, so thirty minutes later, you are showing him around one of the many museums. The grand rooms echo with silence as you hope that the angels are praying for you to make it to the end of the tour. It’s simply so overwhelming to be next to such beauty. You can’t stop thinking how much he fits the scene. 

The line of his nose; his lips; the shadows of his collarbones; the wrinkles of his smile; the flow of your hair; the trickle of his laugh—for all of these, he is worthy of a museum.

So when you finally get your hands on the previously ‘passed-around’ camera, an exhibit of blue curiosities rests on his shoulders. Quickly, you take some pictures of him with the Rothko piece. It’s impossible to determine which is more beautiful—him or the artwork. 

There are repercussions for that, as he leads you to allow him to take a picture of you—his ulterior motive, though, to have a picture of you forever. You’ll be with him no matter what, even after he leaves this city and you behind.

JUST TOURISTY THINGS

Time will separate the two of you, just as a river divides Paris, but as you continue to stroll beside the Seine, where musicians sing of hopeless love and painters craft their works in the open, the issue of time is not a priority. If anything, all the time in the world at this moment is yours.

He grabs your hands and spins the two of you around, his hair brushed with sun-kissed shades of cinnamon brown. Claiming he isn’t immune to music, so you can’t be critical and should just follow his example.

But when the spinning becomes too intense and he feels lightheaded, he tries to steady himself by staring into your eyes for longer than he should. Your proximity scares you, but you’re concerned and ask if he’s okay. 

A smile appears on his face as a result of your concern for him, while a heavenly presence is tipping from his eyes as he’s making a promise that he’s good, if not better than ever.

A smile that inspires hope & makes you believe. A smile that undoubtedly had great power to bring you both to this point. He’s beautiful in every sense. Mentality, personalty, appearance.

He’s even surpassing the Eiffel Tower in terms of beauty with ease!

Your captured images, with him as the subject, create the most ideal postcards, and as you’re showing them to him, it’s when a feeling of sad nostalgia envelops you prior to even parting ways with him. You come to the realization that you desire to spend more time with him, not just one day.

But all you get is one day... 

A magic day... that is gradually starting to turn into a night—and as the two of you walk on the fresh-washed gravel paths through the Luxembourg Gardens, the wind becomes clearer and sharper.

Even the bare trees, which you’re used to seeing against the sky, seem to be feeling the warmth of his touch as he insists on pushing and spreading his fingers inside your palm. His vibrance makes even the leafless trees feel less lonely. He takes your hand in such a way that you aren’t even allowed to give him a warning look. Hand in hand, you have no choice but to chase after him.

NO DESTINATION BACK UP

Does it even matter that he doesn’t know the city? 

The ecstasy you are running on is surley telling you that it’s all about getting lost and�� discovering yourself in unfamiliar places—and that’s all because of him.

The startled look in this stranger’s eyes as you two nearly cross a street at a red light due to his rushing… 

As he begins to apologize while biting his lower lip, claiming he didn’t mean to. 

His deer-eyes in the headlights are all that you can focus on really. It’s tempting to say, ‘It’s okay,’ but there is something about his apologetic expression that makes you feel as though he’s completely enclosing you in his gaze. 

His eyes are hugging you while he apologizes. It has been a long time since you felt something like that—felt completely safe. Sincerely, and risk-free. He’s a walking green light. So then, it’s a bit sadistic of you to wish for his apology to last longer. 

But how can you not?

When his hand squeezes yours even harder, and he turns all starry eyes while biting his lip in fear?

Someone you would definitely want to try and fit into your pocket, regardless of his height or width.

CRAMPED SPACES

When the cruelness of the night finally reaches your bones, chasing a tiny, romantic restaurant is the only way to soothe the cold.

The warmth of the atmosphere meshes with his gray cardigan, and you find yourself moving more and more into his comfort zone due to the crowded space, where many are seeking refuge for the same reason as you two. 

His rich scent fills the air around you and his knees keep touching yours due to the close proximity. The wine glass dangles in his hand and his lips become more and more affected, picking up a cherry hue.

His collarbones exhibit every movement of his body, and for whatever reason, you feel an insatiable urge to reach for the soft, grey wool and uncover more.

You’re so invested in this delicate area it’s making you feel absolutely irrational. The constant spreading of his hand through his lush hair and pushing it behind is only adding to your obsession. Regardless of how often he does this, the silky hair flies back into his eyes every time.

He has this habit of dipping his small fork into your chocolate mousse, taking a bite, then flirting while he listens to you talk and plays with the fork, letting the sharp tips sink into his soft lips.

The gesture merely begs for your attention, so in order to stay true to yourself, you greet him by clinking glasses with him. But as soon as his glass touches yours, you have to look him in the eyes again and be so sincere... You lose either way.

This gorgeous person’s natural flirtatious charm can’t be escaped. His focus shifting between your lips and eyes as he attentively listens to you is quite possibly the hottest thing about him. 

And although he insists on practising some French words, he continually mispronounces ‘croissants’ and ‘creme brulee’. He got ‘Bonjour’, ‘Bonsoir’, and ‘baguette’ right, which is worthy of notice; and the greatest reward would be a peck on the cheek, which he hasn’t yet received...

The fork remains sunk in his lips. If there’s one dessert that can be described as the ‘most scrumptious’, it’s him.

UNDERGROUND MISHAPS

Running with him in hand is a somewhat exciting experience. You aren’t sure where he got his stamina, but you’re sprinting down the stairs and will have some downtime when you two board the next metro.

When you reach underground platform though, a sea of tourists waits impatiently to go home or explore the outside world.

His hand carefully slides around your waist as you wait, standing side by side, your chests exploding from all the running. Whether it’s to protect you or keep you to himself, the intent is unclear.

And just as you’re about to look up to give him another warning glance, you realize that you’ve already forgotten how many there were. His adorable facial expressions are the reason you never succeed.

Obviously, the wine has increased his energy—his feelings are in his eyes. 

His features quickly and suddenly take on an emotive tone. A line appears between his brows and a hint of melancholy on his face as recognition dawns. Maybe the effects of the end of the day are finally starting to catch up with him.

You realize that he’s a lot of fun—the type of person who always sees the glass half full but who is also, presumably, grounded enough to realize that something is in the way and the glass isn’t quite enough full. Though he’ll eventually have to face it... saying goodbye to you is probably the biggest treat.

His hand is trembling inside yours...

... whether from anger, sadness, or excitement, it can be all of them or then

“Sungchan,”

You barely have time to finish what you started before he pulls you in and gives you a hug. Metros, come and go. People are walking past you, but he freezes this moment.

His coat’s lapels seem kind enough to part away, giving you more personal space and allowing your ear to fall directly on his heart.

His hand falls effortlessly over your head, as soft as a snowflake as he says, “It’d ruin everything if we said anything. Let’s not.” He carasses your hair and then plants a kiss.

A hug so strong that it keeps you safe from the passing of time. 

However, even this beam of sunshine has a heart, and it rains. Not even he has the complete ability to stop time from passing. The earth orbits, and the leaves dissipate.

Though what he can do is, 

he can certainly seize some of the light in the circumstance as he pulls on your hand once more, making the promise of, “Trust me.”

FALLING IN LOVE

There is definitely a sense of a ‘Trust me’ irony in the situation however, about how you won’t fall in love with him.

He seems to be pointing you in the direction of the photo booth at the end of the platform, which he noticed while your bodies were merging together. 

You’re fairly certain that those will be your favourite, worst-ever photos of the two of you, but the only memory you can physically hug, so you decide not to argue.

Naturally, the cubicle is small, but what do you expect from a metro photo booth?

The sweet giant battles his height and shoulders to enter, and when he does, he just hovers above you, looking down. His palms pressed against two different walls, and his neck bent at an awkward angle because you have taken all the ‘what can hardly be called a’ seat. 

Like it is your fault, right?

With a tongue poke to his cheek and raised brows, he’s subtly advising you to do ‘this one thing.’

Like hell, “I’m not sitting in your lap,” you bat your eyelashes at him. 

“It’s too late to back out. Plus, I don’t think there’s any other way to make this work.”

The goofy grin morphs his whole face into what it would be to stand under the sun; his cheeks rise higher the more he shows teeth. He’s so cute. It melts your heart.

Your mouth stays open in shock as you say, “But it is you who wanted this,” before you endearingly defend yourself. “This was your idea.” How very ‘trust me’ of him. In the end, you accept. “Okay, fine,” you sulk while pouting.

Satisfied, he clicks his tongue. You both knew that you would accept; you just wanted to have some fun, didn’t you?

You eventually create room for him to sit, but when it comes time for you to sit, you hesitate. But then you feel his hands dragging your waist down, and the next thing you know, you’re in his lap. He has lost all patience.

You sigh with annoyance, but even you know it is all a front. 

Now hesitant to move, your back remains pressed against his chest, and you’re even halfway there trying to maintain your balance on your feet instead of lounging comfortably in his lap. However, his back hug is particularly effective because it feels like his palm is pressing deeper into your tummy, encouraging you to relax even more into him.

His thighs radiate unnecessary heat, and his warm breath tickles the side of your neck as his chin rests on your shoulder. He teases you, whispering, “You can face me you know, I don’t bite.”

There is an absolute anarchy, there beneath his palm, in your belly. Not the whispering tone!! 

You tilt your head back (ironically, letting it rest where his shoulder and neck meet), gazing at the near ceiling and mentally calculating the number of seconds until you lose your mind.

He rests with you, for a minute, or two… his heart densely kicking in your back, but you swear it’s a peaceful moment. He’s able to magically stop the flow of time, no matter what!

Perhaps outside of the small world that you two inhabit, the metro passes by for the fifth time, and perhaps the waiting area is swept by cleaners once more while your shoes peek out from under the curtain, threatening to blow your cover.

However, time never really stops—especially in this place, the City of Light, Paris, a city that never sleeps.

“Let—um” His voice cracks for the first time before he finally says, “Uh—Let us take those pictures.”

You shut your eyes, allowing the angst of the situation to have its way with you before turning to face him.

His brows appear flat, and the crack between them is even deeper than it used to be. Even his lips are fuller than they used to be. Or could it simply be the face-to-face intimacy that is causing them to appear in such a way?

All this time, you thought it was just a playful lust, an undeniable attraction, when, in fact, what you’re finding is love—love looking straight into your eyes.

You no longer need to hold it within you. You just admit it, completely aware that nothing will change but that it will undoubtedly have some significance because it’s better to let things out than to hold them inside.

“Sungchan,” you pause for a moment, “I don’t want you to leave.”

Like you haven’t already felt them, he takes your hand and puts it over his heart, allowing you to feel the butterflies surging through his chest. Your lips to your eyes is the route he prefers to travel most. “I don’t want to leave either,” he admits voice light and airy.

As you look at him, every time the photo booth camera flashes a bright light, the butterflies burst rhythmically—because of that, and as much at the magic, and at the calculated touch of a girl who, in the past, had learned to trust no one. Yet, here you are, choosing to trust someone you have just met & won’t see again.

Your hands tremble against his cheeks as you gently cup his face and begin your slow, careful inspection. His tense muscles slowly relax under your touch as you run a finger across the peak of his eyebrow.

You feel an influx of emotions as you begin to understand that this person is an angel. You’re tracing every inch of him into your brain—soaking up every star in his eyes and every mole on his face—because an angel like this can never be met twice...

His greatest quality, you think, even in this kind of ‘damned’ situation, is that he can’t stay serious; a smile lights up his face. The only word that adequately expresses how you feel is wanting to ‘devour’ the damned smile that lingers close to your lips. He’s irresistible.

Cute or sexy are terms that are so confusing with him. You aren’t sure to which he’s supposed to be leaning towards. It’s driving you crazy. He simply can not be defined.

And the more he holds you, the more confident he gets. He started off politely, treating you like a paper bird, and then he abruptly stops apologizing. His lashes start to make out slowly with the narrow look he gives you. His thumb glides over your bottom lip. There is only one meaning to it.

Conversely, the photos taken are sitting in the photo outlet. You whisper, “Sungchan,” gesturing to the pictures and apparently indicating that ‘your work here is done.’ 

His firm grip on your jaw, however, fiercely brings your face into his. His winey breath is coating your lips.

“But,” you knit your brows, “our series of pho—”

His index finger stops your lips from moving mid-sentence. “Let’s make another one.”

“You—you’re getting too comfortable in this,” You stagger over what you are saying as his nose brushes against yours, “for-for well, for something that will never happen again.” 

“That’s exactly why I need those photos,” he says, chewing the inside of his cheeks in response to your somewhat insensitive comment.

“And we—And we,” you keep breaking, “We’ve been her—

“Can I kiss you?” He brutally cuts you off.

His sugary lower lip is already pressed against yours. It no longer interests him what you’re saying. It’s a quiet question, but there is some dangerously real intent behind it.

Yes, but can he beg for a kiss?

Sure,

as if he’s breathing in the air that he knows he’ll be missing out on, his lips remain waiting for a sign before they get messy.

His thumb ignites ‘instant fire’ in every pore on your cheek with each precise circle. It’s more like he is consuming you in advance. 

Your thoughts are numb, and your heart is stuck in your throat. You don’t want to forget any part of it all, and you’re bound to in the high you’re experiencing right now... He was right when he advised it to be documented.

The gaping mouths. The tender lip-stroking. The deep, slow breathing. The hot air exchange.

His teeth clenched in pain. The energy he surrounds you with is so intense.

Your “Fuck!”

& Sungchan’s “Please,”

occur simultaneously.

© 𝟭-𝟰𝟵. do not copy, translate, repost, and modify my works.

[ggomos-maribat]

1 | a perfect day

Part 1 of Marinette Dupain-Cheng is Dead | Masterlist

The place they reserved was beautiful: the greenhouse-type of dining with ferns and orchids hanging from the glass ceiling and walls, a lush green against the pristine white of their chairs and table napkins. The day was blessed with fair weather so just the right amount of sunlight was cascading down on them which fit the light hum of the festive music from the speakers. Even the hostess herself was a sight to behold—a flowery off-shoulder dress, curled brown hair, and pastel manicured nails.

Sabrina truly felt she was in another world.

Their hostess stood up, holding her wine glass in one hand. "I'd like to make a toast." She beamed. "To everyone here, who accepted my invitation for a humble reunion."

She looked at them on by one, first at Alya who seemed to cling at her every word, then moved down the table to Nino, Rose, Juleka, Max, Kim, and so on. These were faces of now acclaimed people, successful in their respective fields. "It seems it was just yesterday when we were only students in Ms. Bustier's class," she continued, "But in reality, we've been through a lot. Ups and downs, pains and losses. But I'm proud of us for sticking together, for keeping in touch after all these years."

A star in the social media field, and a proud founder and CEO of her brand. Lilia Ross. That was the alias she had been using when she was stepping into fame. But to Sabrina, she'll always be Lila, the charming girl who once was a transfer student in their class.

"To us!" Lila cheered, raising her glass up in the air. They all followed suit, some laughing a little and others bursting into lively conversation.

Sabrina took a sip of her drink, turning to her left. "It really has been so long, hasn't it, Chloe?"

The blonde appeared to be in some kind of stupor, but her friend's words shook her out of it. "Huh?"

"I said it's been so long."

Chloe rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Uh, yeah, you're right."

"Are you okay?"

She gave a smile of reassurance. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, it's just . . . stress from work."

Sabrina was about to suggest she get some rest first when the wooden doors opened, revealing another familiar face from their teen years. Large sweater over a collared piece. A priceless watch. Golden hair fixed to look stylishly unkempt.

The man greeted them, "Hey, I hope I'm not too late?"

At the head of the table, Lila's jaw dropped open. "A—Adrien?"

"That's me," he chuckled lowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Long time no see, everyone."

The others, too, couldn't mask their shock—understandably so. Adrien Agreste had been out of the public eye for the past seven months, halting his modeling career and laying low in god knows where. Even Sabrina couldn't remember when she had last seen him.

It was Alya who stood up, grabbing a seat for their new guest. "It's been so long!" She said. "Come here, sit. Where have you been and why were you so unreachable?"

"Yeah, man, I even tried visiting your old house in Paris. They said you weren't there." Kim, meanwhile, passed a plate to him.

"I'm really sorry for that." Adrien gave a sheepish look. "I was too focused on taking time for myself. I'm on hiatus from modeling—I didn't mean to cut everyone off. But I wanted to make it to this reunion!"

At that second, Sabrina's phone began to buzz a notification.

"It's alright to take a break sometimes," Mylene consoled. "Are you going back to modeling soon?"

Adrien shrugged. "I'm not sure yet; I might try out other things and see what works for me."

The phone vibrated again, a few times in succession this time.

"What about working with me?" Alix offered. "I need some extra hands around the museum. Minimal experience needed! I'll teach you everything I know."

The nth buzz sounded and Sabrina pulled out her phone from her purse to completely silence it but then she caught a glimpse of Chloe. She looked pale as a sheet, staring down at her unfinished plate.

Sabrina leaned. "Chlo—"

Buzz. Buzz.

Frowning, Sabrina unlocked her phone to check what the incessant ringing was all about. There were tweets, articles, posts, and messages filling up the screen like something had blown up. And something might as well have.

Her eyes widened when she tapped on an article.

Alya's voice rang out. She, too, was looking at her phone. "Hey, Lila, what's this all about?"

"Hm? Is it about my magazine feature?"

"No, it's not," Sabrina whispered.

There in bold letters the words were summoning up a storm: 'The Truth About Lilia Ross: She's Not Who You Think She Is' .

***

Saturday morning saw Jason Todd at the Wayne manor's dining table, munching on a piece of toast with jam. He stayed the night after patrol upon Alfred's insistence, and then remained for breakfast after some more badgering.

The second eldest raised an eyebrow when Bruce strolled into room wearing office clothes.

"Event at WE today," Bruce explained, making a coffee for himself. "Tim, feet off the table please."

Tim, who was stuck to his phone, let out an incoherent mumble before putting his feet down.

"Lilia Ross," uttered Bruce. "Does that name ring a bell?"

"French-Italian, founder and CEO of Lilia Designs, sells clothing and cosmetics," Tim supplied in a monotonous voice. "She's more famous as an influencer though. In the past few days, there have been a lot of rumors popping up about her. Why do you ask?"

"PR at WE asked me. They wondered if I knew her."

"What does she have to do with Wayne Enterprises?" Damian chimed in.

Celebrities and trends never piqued Jason's interest—he focused on eating, debating internally if he should purchase more handguns to replace a couple that he lost.

"She's been promoting our products even if she's not legally affiliated with WE," Tim explained whilst gulping down his daily dose of caffeine. "She's just trying to fish for a real sponsorship or partnership. Her brand's getting famous in Gotham, you know."

"It's not much of a concern for the company then. Our lawyers will be able to handle it if her so-called scandals affect WE," said Bruce.

"True, but it's still weird. This is her first major backlash on the internet and there's a lot of—" Tim did air quotes with his fingers, "—'anonymous witnesses' coming forward to show her 'true colors'."

"How is that different from the usual celebrity rumors?" asked Damian.

Okay, maybe Jason was a little curious.

He discreetly pulled his phone out to check the articles popping out online. And there were many, as if testimonies were spewing from a never-ending fountain.

'eiffelparis12: don't fall for it. she bought all those views and likes. fake *****'

'coffeecake: I worked as a stylist in a studio once. She was at our show...I didn't expect her to be so two-faced! She was so rude to the producer's assistant and kept bossing her around. The poor guy didn't even get to eat.'

'seaasss: her products arent even that good. lol.'

'venusred: she bought her way to be in our blog's feature. i'm pretty sure she has an anonymous sponsor.'

'harpyre: OMG! does she even pay her employees enough?'

'silverberry640: no way, lilia doesn't deserve this! there's no proof.'

'ngc5195: this is what fame does to all of them......sad.'

Jason looked up again when Bruce spoke. "For now, WE isn't obligated to proceed with legal action and we're not actually involved anyway. I'm sure this will pass on its own."

He wasn't wrong. Scandals came and went; people liked to throw stones at one person then move on to the next after the damage was done.

"Or not," Tim suddenly said, staring at something on his phone "Shit."

"What is it?" asked Bruce.

Tim read the words aloud. "Influencer Lilia Ross, accused of murdering former classmate." 

[not-sobasicbisexual]

my list of Owen movies that I've seen plus my out of 5 stars rating

Night at the Museum (Jedediah 5/5

Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian (Jedediah 5/5

Night at the Museum: Secret of the Tomb (Jedediah 5/5

Shanghai Noon (Roy O’Bannon 4/5

Shanghai Knights (Roy O’Bannon 4/5

Cars (Lightning McQueen 5/5

Cars 2 (Lightning McQueen 3/5

Cars 3 (Lightning McQueen 4/5

Cars: On the Road (Lightning McQueen 4/5

Hall Pass (Rick 4/5

Zoolander (Hansel 5/5

Zoolander 2 (Hansel 5/5

Bottle Rocket (Dignan 5/5

The Darjeeling Limited (Francis Whitman 5/5

Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (Ned Plimpton 5/5

Marmaduke (Marmaduke 3/5

Loki (Mobius 5/5

Wonder (Nate Pullman 3/5

the Royal Tenenbaums (Eli Cash 5/5

Meet the Parents (Kevin Rawley 2.5/5

Paint (Carl Nargle 5/5

Haunted Mansion (Kent 5/5

Secret Headquarters (Jack Kincaid 4/5

Marry Me (Charlie 5/5

Fantastic Mr. Fox (Coach Skip 5/5

Marley & Me (Jon Grogan 5/5

The Grand Budapest Hotel (M. Chuck 5/5

Minus Man (Vann 5/5

Wedding Crashers (John Beckwith 5/5

I-Spy (Alex Scott 4/5

Starsky and Hutch (Hutch 5/5

Anaconda (Gary Dixon 2/5

The French Dispatch (Herbsaint Sazerac 4/5

The Cable Guy (Robin’s date 4/5

How Do You Know (Matty Reynolds 2/5

You, Me, and Dupree (Randy Dupree 4/5

Midnight in Paris (Gil Pender 5/5

[qsycomplainsalot]

Lindybeige is Either an Idiot or an Asshole

Most Likely Both

--There could be more flattering ways to put it, but he's never once given us that favor so why should I. His videos are wildly speculative and often based in cherry-picked British sources, when they come with any sources at all - see his masturbatory piece about the Bren vs the “Spandau”.

--There are two videos that I absolutely loathe at the edges of my youtube recommendations, both just filled to the brim with misinformation and logical contrivances. Videos that neckbeards will endlessly quote at me without question, taking a frustratingly long amount of time to untangle by which point they'd have usually lost interest already. The first one is Shadiversity's video about boob armor, the other is Lindybeige's video about the French Resistance.

--This video will have you believe that the French Resistance on its own did nothing of worth, based in great part on the fact that De Gaulle glamorized its contribution to the war for political status. I cannot stress this enough, just because De Gaulle used the general idea of the Resistance to smooth over a lot of Vichy war crimes and restore national unity does not mean the Resistance did not exist as a capable fighting force. --The very first more specific argument he offers to support his view -if you ignore “ME AND ME PA FOUND THAT VERY FONNY”- is that most of the French armor was American-made and provided through the lend-lease policy, making French people less deserving of credit in winning World War 2. I assume that in his mind that would diminish the contribution of the French Resistance to war efforts, even though these tanks and armored fighting vehicles were used by the Free French Army, not the Resistance at any point of its existence, making the point moot while also conveniently ignoring that the United Kingdom received ten times the aid France did through that same program.

--The image is from War Thunder because it makes for a better glamor shot than having it stand behind a museum fence or in black and white.

--His next argument implies that De Gaulle was "allowed" to walk in the liberated Paris ahead of Allied troops to give a speech that solidified the myth of the Resistance I mentioned. Again, in this passing, deceptive comment, Lindybeige implies that De Gaulle walked in after the fact and that Allied forces did the heavy lifting, only allowing him to do his speech a their convenience. Even a cursory amount of research will tell you that Paris was in fact liberated by the FFI, the Parisian people themselves and Leclerc’s 2nd Armored Division composed of Metropolitan and Colonial French with Spanish elements, supported only on the very last day by the US 4th Infantry Division and a special British unit sent to gather intelligence. --Following this, he quotes the speech De Gaulle delivered in front of the town hall the day the German garrison surrendered, but cuts it short of the part in said speech mentioning “the help of our dear and admirable Allies” to then call De Gaulle ungrateful, which I have a hard time believing could be anything but intentionally deceptive. He then goes on to claim that the French Resistance was not organized by De Gaulle but by the British, justifying the ludicrous claim with 'they didn’t tell him because French intelligence services were bad and would have leaked all of it’. This is of course ignoring the fact that De Gaulle had personally sent Jean Moulin back to France for the exact purpose of organizing the five big Resistance movements into one organization, which he did, creating the Council for National Resistance that played a major role in the liberation of Paris. How the British would have any hand in this may be explained by his further comments, where he goes on to say that agents of the organization preceding the MI6 had been infiltrated in the Resistance to organize it, which begs the question of who's responsible for it being a non-effective combat force if it had been the case. He then gives us a voice in a sarcastic tone by saying, “of course you and your British bias would say that !” but does not really address it. Because honestly yeah, you and your British bias would say that.

--After quickly rambling that there were too many people in France and not enough bushes for all people to join the Resistance, which I have to admit is an extremely pointed and pertinent thing to say in a video downplaying the efforts and suffering of thousands of people fighting back against Nazi occupation under constant threat of torture and execution if caught, he mentions that the German forced labor system had severely depleted France’s manpower of fighting age. He says that by 1944, only teenagers and decrepit middle aged men were left to fight in the Resistance, to the great disappointment of the British agents he mentioned earlier. According to him, this meant France lacked the manpower and the communication capability required to pull the Resistance off, which is again contradicted by the actions of Jean Moulin, who had seemingly managed to access both before his death.

--There are a few problems with that argument. The Service de Travail Obligatoire, STO for short, was a system put in place by Vichy France to supply Germany with civilian manpower to make up for their own shortfalls due to the Eastern front. Because Vichy had negotiated a relative independence compared to other occupied country, its own government was responsible for the order, although it was in almost every point similar to forced labor orders in Denmark or the Netherlands. Now the STO did deprive France of over six hundred thousand young men, many of them skilled workers. However as an incentive given by the Nazis, every three forced laborer sent to Germany would lead to the release of one French POW, meaning that as far as manpower was concerned, France pretty much lost only four hundred thousand men and received qualified military personnel for its trouble. Not only is it hardly the manpower drain pictured by Lindybeige, it also ignores that many of these forced laborers, my grandfather included, immediately skipped work and joined either the Resistance or Allied military regulars after operation Overlord, as they were not as tightly surveilled as POWs and minorities in concentration/death camps. It also bears mentioning that it was teenagers, dismissed by Lindybeige as a negligible quantity, that acted as reconnaissance troops for the Free French using their motorbikes to scout and guide the way to the German Kommandantur. In any case, most members of the FFI integrated the regular French army after the liberation of Paris, meaning they were definitely of fighting age. Of course that whole argument is dropped as soon as he brings in British involvement, at which point he finally points out how the Resistance disabled most of the railway network and stopped the famously lightning-fast German army from facing the Allied invasion properly. For their role in this sabotage, a hundred fifty Resistance members working for the French national railway company were shot and another five hundred deported.

--To put it simply, Lindybeige dismisses the Resistance as a useless, wasteful and infighting group of functional morons, while every successful operation they carried out, every display of good mobility and coordination is attributed to British uniformed soldiers overseeing it. In reality most of that effort was done by either agents of the French government in exile or the Allied command under Eisenhower, with no account mentioning any significant autonomous British involvement which stands to reason as De Gaulle and Churchill could not stand one another. In fact Lindybeige tries to pass off operation Jedburgh as a purely British operation while it was specifically a joint one with American, British, French, Belgian and Dutch operatives all along the Atlantic coast.

--The next part is baffling. Lindybeige points at the Allies stopping their shipments of weapons to the French Resistance after July 44 and justifies it by saying the various cells were fighting each other and were uncoordinated. Thank god the Brits stopped sending arms or there would have been a civil war between these silly French Resistance members. Of course what happened in August was the liberation of Paris followed by the integration of the FFI into the new French army, which would go on to liberate the rest of the country. But Lindybeige pushes this civil war angle pretty hard, calling at this point of the video both Vichy France and the Resistance to be pro French in a way and underlining the conflicts between the two as a reason why the weapon shipments stopped coming, with examples such as Resistance members exacting reprisals against Nazi collaborators, which is a completely moot point because Vichy France and collaborators had nothing to do with the Resistance and were in fact, at this point of time, recognized as the enemy by all Allied forces, meaning acts of resistance against them would in no way prompt Allied command to stop supporting the French Resistance. Lindybeige goes so far as to say that the OSS and British secret service stopping the weapon shipments in August 1944 legitimately prevented an outright civil war between the different cells of the French Resistance, which was in actuality pretty unified in its support to De Gaulle at this point thanks to the efforts of Jean Moulin as discussed previously. This hardly gels with the events following August 1944, where the members of the Resistance and FFI were enlisted in the Free French Army and were therefore issued American military equipment and training to function as regular troops. Now stop me if I'm wrong but it appears that in Lindybeige's mind all French people were ready to tear each other apart until the British stopped sending them pipe guns, after which the Americans sent them tanks which obviously disabled their ability to start a civil war.

--Two French colonial soldiers using a blend of Allied gear during the winter of 1944-45. They are presumably thinking of killing each other.

--Much like the Phantom Menace review this is addressing a piece of media were essentially everything is wrong, hence the length of this post. Lindybeige has obviously researched the topic to great length, then ignored half of it to record 17mn of vague, dismissive and unsubstantiated claim that each take an equal amount of time to debunk. He present the facts as if everything that happened on British soil was under British orders so as to make the French Resistance only effective on their accord, all the while disregarding the French government in exile and slandering the efforts of French people but also inadvertently of the Americans. It is my honest belief that this sad excuse of an historian is either profoundly lacking in literacy or actively trying to justify his xenophobia by bending WW2 historiography around his bias, and whatever it may be he should be deplatformed to avoid spreading more harmful and disrespectful lies about a group of brave men and women who fought to liberate their country from fascism.

[namedvesta]

If you ever get the chance to visit the Louvre in Paris or the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, take a detour to the Ancient Near Eastern Art Gallery. Keep walking until you find yourself in front of one of those cubic display cases, whose bulletproof glass protects a treasure barely bigger than your little finger. We call them Eye Idols. Carbon-14 tells us that they were made between 3000 and 3700 BC.  Look closely, or at least think you're looking at them, because in reality it's quite the opposite. It's the Idol staring back at you; with the same puzzled, indecipherable look she gave the man who carved her out of stone 5,000 years ago. Those eyes have seen the first man, every man since, and they will be wide open long after the last man has closed his. For those eyes, your whole life will pass in less than a thousandth of a second. For them, there is only the eternal now. Feel how that look nails you to the ground and how your own can never have the same effect.

— 𝐕.

[omgthatdress]

In Addy’s Surprise, Addy's mother is working as a seamstress, and gives the dress to Addy after a wealthy White client returns the dress because it didn’t fit. Many enslaved Black women were skilled seamstresses who made all those elaborate hoop skirts for their southern belle mistresses. After emancipation, a lot of these women were able to not only find employment, but open their own businesses. They passed their skills on to their daughters who in turn were able to make a living the same way. That’s how Anne Lowe became one of America’s greatest couturiers!

In terms of accuracy, the dress should have been more of a jumper style with a chemisette worn under it if you want that white collar.

(Musée Galliera de la Mode de la Ville de Paris)

(The Met Museum)

The cheerful tartan is spot on though:

(The Kobe Fashion Museum)

[myemuisemo]

Part 10 of "Letters from Watson" of The Sign of the Four starts with Sherlock Holmes enthusiastically infodumping.

He appeared to be in a state of nervous exaltation. I have never known him so brilliant. He spoke on a quick succession of subjects,—on miracle-plays, on medieval pottery, on Stradivarius violins, on the Buddhism of Ceylon, and on the war-ships of the future,—handling each as though he had made a special study of it. His bright humor marked the reaction from his black depression of the preceding days.

I wondered "why these topics in particular?"

Miracle plays were, in 1890, the subject of a new book by Alfred W. Pollard of the British Museum. It received a positive review in The Spectator.

The Arts & Crafts Exhibition Society had its first exhibition in London in 1888. While handicrafting, the William Morris aesthetic, and such, had been around for a while by then, this was the big organized push for public attention. Not only did the Arts & Crafts movement draw on medieval influences, but many a UK pottery maker was on the site of a medieval kiln and interested in medieval techniques.

Stradivarius violins are, of course, the sought-after antique violin. There were at least two donated to the Musée de la Musique in Paris shortly before the time of this story, as well as a number getting heard by important violinists in important orchestras. Even more interestingly from Holmes' point of view, a factory in Germany had just started making Stradivarius copies.

Buddhism in Sri Lanka had lapsed into torpor in the early 19th century but was, by 1890, well into a resurgence. The kick-off, back in 1866, had been Buddhist monk Mohottivatte Gunananda challenging Christian missionaries to a debate. In 1890, he had just died; but he had founded a political movement.

As for war-ships, in 1889, the Naval Defense Act had passed. It called for the UK Navy to be maintained at least twice as large as the combined navies of the next two largest powers (then France and Russia). War ships -- both quantity and design -- had doubtless been in the news for a while.

These aren't obscure hyperfixations (though I'm all for obscure hyperfixations!). These are conversational topics appropriate for a well-read gentleman of the era: the sort who gets three or four newspapers, reads the book reviews, and then reads the books reviewed. This explains how Dr. Watson and Athelney Jones set him off, or even participated in the conversation.

We also, while on a boat, get the return of Winwood Reade's Martyrdom of Man (making it Chekhov's book reference?). Says Holmes of Reade:

“He remarks that, while the individual man is an insoluble puzzle, in the aggregate he becomes a mathematical certainty. You can, for example, never foretell what any one man will do, but you can say with precision what an average number will be up to. Individuals vary, but percentages remain constant. So says the statistician."

Statistics was not new -- scholarly sorts had become engaged with statistics during the Enlightenment -- but it was in the early stages of being systematized into the mathematical field we know today. Holmes sounds like he would have been a fan of Francis Ysidro Edgeworth's Metre-like: Or the Method of Measuring Probability and Utility, published in 1887, since it attempted to use probability as the basis of inductive reasoning.

Then we have a boat chase.

I love the boat chase. I feel like the boat chase might have contributed to inspiration for the train chase in Nicholas Meyers' The Seven Percent Solution, though I also feel that a train chase needs no justification other than "we have two trains and a problem."

Our heroes leave from Westminster Wharf, which I'm assuming is roughly today's Westminster Pier, which had not yet received its statue of Boudica. (Westminster is conveniently southeast of Marylebone, where Baker Street is located.) So that long gentle curve is the river past St. Paul's and the Tower of London and under multiple bridges. They pick up the Aurora about where the river heads into that first shallow down-curve and chase it up and down, around the Isle of Dogs, up past Greenwich, and around the down curve at Blackwall. So they must catch it as the river starts to straighten and widen.

A pleasure tour from Westminster Pier to Greenwich today takes about an hour, but those are the boats their launch was passing like they were standing still. The Eva, a Thames Steam Launch of the appropriate era, was one of the speediest of the time and could achieve 16.5 miles/hour.

Then... I really would have preferred an actual monkey. We've now had in this chapter so many reminders of the achievements of European, particularly English, civilization that the avalanche of adjectives framing the Andaman Islander as primitive stands out as a deliberate counterpoint, despite the inclusion of Ceylon and Winwood Reade. Will we ever know what the Andaman Islander Accomplice's motivations were? (If yes, will I wish even more fervently that we'd just stuck with a monkey?)

I love the boat chase, though.

[germanpostwarmodern]

Her life and art commands respect and recognition: despite personal blows of fate, the hardships of war and a life often lived on the breadline, Louise Rösler developed her work with incredible perseverance. Over 30 years after her last retrospective at Haus am Waldsee Berlin, the Museum Giersch up until 25 August shows a comprehensive exhibition with works from all of Rösler’s work phases, a long overdue appreciation of an often marginalized women artist.

Throughout much of her career Rösler dealt with the fascination of the metropolis, its dynamism and how its face changes with the passing seasons. But her first steps as an artist were deeply influenced by French art: after studying at the private Hans Hofmann school in Munich and the Vereinigte Staatsschulen in Berlin Rösler and her future husband Walter Kröhnke went to France, a sojourn during which she soaked in the art of Matisse, Cézanne, Derain and Seurat. Upon returning to Berlin in 1933 she again engaged with the metropolis just like she had done in Paris and found her very own style of portraying it: based on impressions collected during long walks around the city Rösler created emphatic cityscapes that were neither impressionist nor expressionist but uniquely individual spatial compositions. In the postwar years Rösler condensed these spatial constellations into fully abstract compositions that dealt with the light and pace of the city, first in collages of found materials and later in increasingly rhythmic paintings.

Her stringent artistic development and difficult personal life also come to life in the catalogue published alongside the exhibition by Wienand Verlag which features a broad chronological selection of artworks and four insightful essays. Of them Laura Domes’ stands out based on the emphatic analysis of Rösler’s transitory time in Königstein im Taunus, a time characterized by economic hardships but also great creativity and the artist’s leap towards abstraction.

With both exhibition and catalogue the Museum Giersch provides a great opportunity to discover a little-known yet exceptional protagonist of modern art in Germany whose art can easily compete with her male contemporaries.

[copperbadge]

I want to thank you - your posts about solo travel inspired me to do a week of solo road trip this spring, and I had a fantastic time. I went where I wanted, when I wanted, and even eating at restaurants by myself was less awkward than I was afraid of.

I'm not going to swear off family vacations forever or anything, there is also a benefit to traveling with someone you want to share those experiences with, but I'm definitely going to be bolder about traveling by myself, and I don't think I would have done it without you providing an example.

Oh, also, I want the anon who recommended Qahwah House to you awhile back to know that they are so right, their chai (and basbousa) is absolutely fantastic, and I would never have known to make a detour for it while I was passing through the area if I hadn't seen that ask.

I hope it's okay if I post this publicly! I'm so glad you enjoyed your solo travel and didn't feel as awkward as you expected. I don't always travel solo either -- I visit my family, and I visit friends and travel with them sometimes, and I always enjoy it, I just also really love doing my own thing. And I like to set an example for people because SO often when I talk about going places alone, I get reactions of surprise and envy, and I really want more people to know that it is not only safe and possible but fun to travel alone!

A lot of the time it isn't even really that other people wouldn't want to do what I want to do. I regularly drag my friends to dumb tourist traps and weird museums. But I also get very hesitant about suggesting things and I tend not to do much spontaneously. Like when I was in Paris and went to the McDonalds because I really wanted a soda, I would never have been like "Hey friends who are in PARIS with me, let's go to MCDONALDS". But I'm glad I did because I almost got robbed by a preteen and also encountered the Chicago Supreme Burger, which was super funny.

[mcheang]

Spot the difference

When Zoe and Alya become replacement heroes, Marinette could have told the kwamis to pass on the message to avoid wearing the rings! Except she was kinda depressed and their decision had been a shock to her.

However as she went to visit Alya to congratulate her, she also had a list of things to beware and avoid, among which was the alliance ring.

Alya dismisses Marinette’s concern, reluctant to give up the latest technical fad and unable to think of an explanation for even doing that. Besides, does Marinette know how much these things cost?

After the events of Deflagration, Marinette, Alya, Tikki and Plagg are curious how Monarch discovered their secret identities so quickly.

What is the difference between Marinette and Alya? Could it really be the alliance ring?

Plagg: actually, now that you mention it, Chat Noir doesn’t wear an alliance ring, but Kitty does.

Everyone is stunned.

Alya hesitantly says, “And Kouki wore 5 alliance rings on his hands, Nora was complaining to me about him being such a spendthrift. That was the only time we faced an akuma with the powers of 5 miraculous. Did the other akumas wear multiple alliance rings?”

Marinette: no.

Alya said what everyone must be thinking. “So the alliance rings are how Monarch transfers the powers of the kwami.”

Tikki: you think Gabriel might be Monarch after all?

Marinette: i don’t want to think it could be true, but we can’t discount the possibility. I know he was the Collector before but the arrival of Mayura means he has at least one ally who could akumatize him on his behalf.

Alya: it is too much of a coincidence that Gabriel should be akumatized right after he loses the grimoire, the most incriminating clue that would lead to Hawkmoth.

Plagg: if Gabriel really is Monarch, there’s only one way to know for sure. He’ll have my mark on him after the wax museum.

Alya: right…how are we going to see Gabriel’s arm? A vaccine?

Marinette: not to mention, i am certain that Monarch would want to hide such a clue with makeup.

Plagg: there’s only one way to know for sure. A spy mission. Send me Marinette, no offense but out of all of you, I blend in the most easily.

Alya: right, then how do you explain kwami buster?

Tikki, who knows Plagg knows the Agreste mansion best of them all, speaks up. “No, he’s right. We need to send in Plagg.”

Marinette twiddled her fingers. “Especially since the Resistance’s last plan with Gabriel epically failed.”

Plagg avoids meeting Adrien, knowing he won’t take kindly to his father being accused again. But he really goes all out in exploring the house. He does more than sneak into Gabriel and Nathalie’s rooms, he searches for hidden lairs and vaults. He finds Monarch’s lair easily enough, and his captured friends!

Plagg reports this to Marinette. Grimly, she starts planning. “Gabriel must be hiding the rings under his gloves.”

Alya: what are you going to do now?

Marinette: I’m going to arrest Monarch in the last place he expects. When do you think Gabriel is making his next public appearance?

Alya: uh…no clue. I’m still surprised he went to the parent teacher conference.

Marinette: we need more heads. Plagg, you can go to Chat and-

Plagg: actually, it might be better if you leave Chat out of this.

Marinette: why?

Plagg: I can’t say.

A pause before they move on.

Alya: what if Adrien has his friends over, is that enough of a public setting for you?

Marinette nodded. It will do, but I have to ambush him easily.

Alya: you can count on the resistance.

Sure enough, Alya knocks Gabriel unconscious and lets Ladybug in through the window. Adrien is stunned when Ladybug exposes his father as the villain.

As the resistance stands watch over the bound villain, Ladybug summons her lucky charm to find his lair.

She frees the kwamis. Gabriel is arrested but there is still the question of who Mayura is, either Tomoe or Nathalie. Anyway, they are both taken into custody where Nooroo happily outs them.

Adrien then has to move away to Paris after the public backlash and stay with his aunt. Plagg offers the miraculous again but Adrien politely declines, instead promising to help recover the Peacock from his cousin should he show his face again.