#avon gifted me

[avonwings]

I am loving my skin with just 5 days of using it. I recommend it. Try it for yourself 💖 at BuildItBigNow.com

[la-femme-au-collier-vert]

From The Library of Anne Rice (Part 1)

A list of books owned by Anne Rice including annotation information taken from auction listings at Bonham's, October 2024. Will continue in Part 2.

Frazer, James G. The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion (abridged edition).New York: MacMillan Publishing Co., 1963. She writes on the flyleaf in June of 2012: "When I bought this book I don't know. I know I read it or a copy of it in the 1980s when writing The Vampire Lestat. It is essential to me." On the jacket spine she has added "Sacred!"

Frazer, James G. The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion. 1981. Marked on the cover, "Gift to Stan from Anne 1985 / Save Always, AR," and internally reads in Stan's handwriting: "A gift to me from Anne because I've never read it."

Gaskell, Elizabeth. Tales of Mystery & the Macabre. Wordsworth edition, 2007. bears Rice's ownership signature to title page ("Anne Rice / May 29, 2012 / The Desert") and is tabbed and annotated throughout. 

Gaskell, Elizabeth. North and South. Penguin Books, 2000. bears her ownership signature on the title page.

Hemingway, Ernest. For Whom the Bell Tolls. New York: Charles Scribner's Son, 1940. Original beige cloth stamped cover and spine, in facsimile dust jacket. First edition with the Scribner's "A" on the copyright page. With Post-it note to front pastedown indicating that the book was a gift "From Becket and Christina / Christmas / 2012."

King, B. B. & David Ritz. Blues All Around Me: The Autobiography of B.B. King. New York: Avon Books, 1996. First edition, inscribed to "To Anne / All the best to you / B.B. King / 10-18-96." 

Montgomery, L.M. Anne of Green Gables. Cutchogue, NY: Buccaneer Books, 1976. Anne Rice ownership signature dated February 7, 2015, Palm Desert. Annotated on front pastedown; "It's immediately a pleasure, and making me want to write."

 Montgomery, L.M. Emily's Quest. Oxford City Press, 2009. Anne Rice ownership signature dated February 21, 2015; annotated and tabbed.

Montgomery, L.M. Emily Climbs. Sourcebooks, 2014. Anne Rice ownership signature dated February 12, 2015.

Montgomery, L.M. Emily of New Moon. Ameron House, c.2015. Anne Rice ownership signature dated February 6, 2015, inscribed: "Reading the paperback and loving it so much I had to have a hardcover." 

Montgomery, L.M. The Blue Castle. Sourcebooks, 2011. Anne Rice ownership signature dated May 12, 2015 to title page.

Puzo, Mario. The Godfather. New York: Putnam, 1969. Book club edition. On May 26 and 27, 2013, she writes, "Badly need this, Studying in detail" and on page 74 she writes, "Note how easily it flows." She has great praise for the nimbleness of the novel's p.o.v. and is often asking herself "how can I learn from this?" On p 225 she writes, "This is a most impressive piece of work and is masterly. Again I marvel at vocabulary, tone, and placement—organization of the book. I fight OCD as I write, I've come to see that, and this helps me to see what this novel accomplishes. Presenting the Don as a 'great' man, a 'genius,' without apology is a conscious approach that is so powerful."

Puzo, Mario. The Godfather. Another copy, later edition, lacking jacket. With Anne Rice's ownership signature.

Puzo, Mario. The Godfather Papers and Other Confessions. London; William Heinneman, 1972.

Puzo, Mario. The Fortunate Pilgrim. New York: Random House, 1997. Anne Rice ownership signature. 

Wallace, Lew. Ben-Hur: A Tale of the Christ. New York and London: Harper & Brothers, 1908. Anne Rice re-read this copy of Ben-Hur in 2006, a used copy she picked up somewhere, leaving detailed marginalia throughout and summing up her thoughts on the first flyleaf: "12-12-06: This is an amazing achievement: a Judeo-Christian novel. Jewish history and honor are here! And a woman tells this history to her son! How did we get away from this to The Robe ... 12-15-06: I've spent over two days reading & studying this wonderful book. It does seem unique—and it covers an amazing amt of material including a physical description of Our Lord, the crucifixion, etc. It is not anti-semitic. It presents Jews as exotic, 'oriental.' It has a primitive quality ... why is the prose so difficult? so 'dated'? Compare to Dickens." Rice's notes in the margin often compare the novel to (presumably the 1959 version of) the film, finding the novel superior in every way, and commenting more than once on its structural similarities to Dickens: "the whole spectacle and the co-incidence" (p 166).

Cleland, John. 1709-1789. Fanny Hill or Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure. New York: Penguin Books, 1985. Annotated and with ownership signature to the title page: "Anne Rice / January 2014 / Palm Desert." Rice underscores Cleland's descriptions of bodies and physical acts, and in particular, wonders about the novel's p.o.v.: on p 108 she writes in the margin, "Is this a man's view? A gay man? An author who is male and female?"

Clinton, Bill. Born 1946. My Life. New York: Alfred Knopf, 2004. Jacket spine with label "From the library of Anne Rice" laid down to tail. First edition, inscribed on the title page, "To Anne—After doing this book, I admire you even more—Bill Clinton." with: a note on the Office of William J. Clinton letterhead: "2/17 —Huma—For author ANNE RICE.—Thanks, Sally." When Clinton published his memoir in 2024, Rice was one of the VIPs to receive a presentation copy, in which he expresses his admiration for her work after having written a book of his own.

Bellman, Henry. 1882-1945. Kings Row. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1943. Annotated and with ownership signature to front free endpaper: "Anne Rice / June 27, 2013 / Palm Desert." Rice has carefully read and annotated this copy, complementing the writing (particularly when Bellamann writes about Father Donovan) and adds a long note on the rear pastedown: "Pages & pages of this book are about the mind—about how the mind learns, expands, grows, experiences." Sometimes her comments are in conversation with the text, as when, on p 153, she underlines the town of Auvergne and writes "Auvergne, what a coincidence! As I plan a trip there and write about Lestat!"

Dickens, Charles. David Copperfield.  New York: Penguin Classics, 2014. With ownership signature of Anne Rice dated June 11, 2018, tabbed and annotated throughout. On the preliminary leaf of Copperfield, Rice writes, "Again with my beloved David, and my beloved Dickens. I have just read Claire Tomalink 'The Invisible Woman' and her later bio of Dickens. I'm writing my new novel in my head."

Dickens, Charles. Great Expectations. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008. Signed and dated June 15, 2018, tabbed and annotated throughout.

Rawlings, Marjorie Kinnen. South Moon Under. New York, London: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1933 (undated later facsimile edition).

Mitchell, Margaret, Gone With the Wind. New York: [Simon and Schuster], 2011. Rice reread this copy in March of 2015, tabbing dozens of pages and commenting in the margins.

Tolstoy, Leo. War and Peace. New York: Alfred Knopf, 2007. The first date on this copy of War and Peace is June 30, 2010, and Rice writes: "The Desert / Being reborn in Tolstoy, studying at his feet—Searching for the Christ who is bigger than religion." In a different ink, Rice adds at the top of the same page, "Revisiting 7-16-17—Having seen much of the new BBC series with Lily James as Natasha." Rice has tabbed the pages throughout this volume and made extensive notes on character development and theme. On the rear flyleaf, she adds, "'Life is everything...' p 10064— use for L" as well as "The guiltlessness of suffering (do we make ourselves suffer to be guiltless)?"

Tolstoy, Leo. Anna Karinina. Translated by Rosamund Bartlett. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Signed and annotated February 19, 2015. Heavily tabbed, especially in the center part of the novel, and noted on the front flyleaf: "Reading chunks of the story of Levin & Kitty / So beautiful and smooth—"

[lace85]

Comment font les filles ?

Suite des confidences de Lace…

J'étais dans l'année de mes 15 ans, ma sœur ses 14 ans. Nos petits échanges de culottes s'étaient installés comme une habitude. Je me masturbais assez souvent et notre seau hygiénique ou un mouchoir recueillait ma liqueur. De temps à autre, ma sœur insistait pour regarder mais cela n'allait pas plus loin. Nous n'échangions pas de caresses mutuelles. Un frais dimanche matin d'hiver, ma sœur s'est glissée dans mon lit, en me réveillant. Elle prétextait avoir un peu froid et me demanda de la prendre dans mes bras. Nous étions tous les deux en culotte et tee-shirt. Je la serrais doucement, sans rien tenter de plus, lorsque qu'elle m'a dit : "Tu m'as montré comment font les garçons. Tu veux que je te montre comment font les filles pour avoir du plaisir ?" Tout émoustillé à cette idée, j'ai bien sûr accepté ce cadeau. Alors elle s'est dégagée de mes bras pour se mettre sur le dos. Elel a glissé ses doigts sur son entrejambe et par dessus sa culotte elle a commencé à se caresser. J'avais repoussé la couverture pour profiter de ce petit spectacle. Alors elle a pris ma main, l'a placé sur sa culotte et m'a guidé en doux mouvements de haut en bas. A un moment, sa respiration s'est accélérée et elle a émis de petits gémissements, lors j'ai su qu'elle avait du plaisir. Juste après, elle m'a dit " Hé bien petit cochon, je vois que ça t'a fait de l'effet ! Regarde, tu vas craquer ta culotte !" Elle a alors baissé le devant de ma culotte pour dégager ma queue raide et fièrement dressée. Elle a commencé a me prendre dans sa main pour la première fois. C'était tellement doux et agréable, j'étais prêt à exploser. J'ai retenu sa main en lui disant " Si tu continues, je vais cracher et il y en aura plein le lit !" Alors elle à enlevé sa culotte et l'a enroulé sur ma queue en couvrant mon gland de la doublure plus épaisse. C'était chaud, humide…Hummm ! et c'était juste à temps pour que je lâche une grosse giclée. Nous avons attendu que ma queue dégonfle et finisse de se vider puis elle a repris sa culotte trempée de nos plaisirs et je crois que la coquine s'est aussi léché sur les doigts ce qui avait débordé…

Continuation of Lace's secrets… How do the girls do it?

I was 15, my sister was 14. Our little exchanges of panties had become a habit. I masturbated quite often and our sanitary bucket or tissue would collect my juice. From time to time, my sister insisted on watching but it didn't go any further. We did not exchange mutual hugs. On a chilly winter Sunday morning, my sister crawled into bed, waking me up. She pretended to be a little cold and asked me to hold her. We were both in panties and t-shirts. I squeezed her gently, without trying anything more, when she said to me: "You showed me how boys do it. Do you want me to show you how girls do it to have pleasure?" Exhilarated by this idea, I of course accepted this gift. Then she got out of my arms and got on her back. Elel slid her fingers over her crotch and over her panties she began to caress herself. I had pushed the cover aside to enjoy this little spectacle. So she took my hand, placed it on her panties and guided me in gentle up and down movements. At one point, her breathing accelerated and she made small moans, then I knew she was having pleasure. Right after, she said to me, "Well, little piggy, I see that had an effect on you! Look, you're going to burst your pants!" She then pulled down the front of my panties to reveal my stiff and proudly erect cock. She started to take me in her hand for the first time. It was so sweet and nice, I was ready to explode. I held his hand and said, "If you continue, I'm going to spit and there will be a bed full of them!" Then she took off her panties and wrapped them over my cock covering my glans with the thicker lining. It was hot, humid…Hummm! and it was just in time for me to release a big load. We waited for my cock to deflate and finish emptying then she took back her panties soaked with our pleasures and I think the naughty girl also licked what had overflowed from her fingers…

[khristie16]

Table number six p.2/...

pairing: charles leclerc x reader summary: you decided to disappear from your hometown with your bestfriend, finding the anchor in Monaco. With your talent to be in the right place at the right time you got yourself to some fine situation PS summary: Does first touch precede love at first sight? Warnings: google translated French, smuttish thoughts Word count: 3.5K

(Her eyes are so beautiful. Her whole face is so beautiful. It forces me to smile like a little boy, red cheeks and cheeky smile. It compels me to go right after her. Be closer to her. I cannot though. So I'm holding myself back. Keeping my eyes away from her. And yet this little part of me - at least I thought it's little, aches for her and I want to know, If she feels the same.) -

You definitely wouldn't thought being on the right place, at the right time meant embarrassing yourself and all of it coming from a bunch of coincidences. As you were passing by between the tables, you stopped at your favorite one. Asking once again if they are satisfied with the service and the food. Nous avons tout, merci beaucoup. We have everything, thank you very much. You smiled at the old lady and that is when you recognized the great piece of clothing she's wearing from your favorite designer. (OMG!) Is that the collection called les bons souvenirs?? The old lady was looking at you confused. It took you a while it clicked. Je suis désolé, je demandais si c'était la collection les bons souvenir? You smiled and hoped that everything is fine between the two of you. (Is it mean to talk about her clothes right now?) Your prayers had been heard and she smiled widely. Yes, it is. You know this brand? Your eyes lit up, slightly surprised she is speaking English now. Yes! They are my favorite. I love their collection, especially this one! I have one piece of clothing from them and I just love how the material hugs my body. It is like a bunch of feathers caressing me haha. - you were so focused on the conversation that you haven't noticed that the certain guy furrowed his eyebrows at your comment. Qui, I know what you mean. I like them a lot as well. She smiled more once again and you reciprocated. In the meantime - in your mind, you thought how surprised you are by her level of English. It was very good indeed. Actually I noticed your necklace that you're wearing. You snapped back to reality and what you see in front of you as you grabbed your necklace and smiled widely. -

Don't you forget my beautiful girl - As you looked into her eyes, full of excitement. - The swan represents deep, true and lasting love. No matter what you see at home, no matter what you see outside, what you see anywhere around you, it doesn't hold the truth. You can decide what is true to you and what is not. Swan dies with her life partner. I found such love. You will feel it as well, when you will meet the right one. Just keep your eyes open, and hold your own truth. No matter what others tell you or show you. Even if they do it right in front of your eyes. It is an illusion. -

Ah yes, it was a gift. As you were smiling on the thing you were between your fingers, the little white swan, your eyes got a little bit sad. -

Have you seen her ass? You mean the waitress? Yeah. I'd love a hold of that. I have an idea. -

She asked you more questions about where are you from and what you are actually doing there and for how long. You told her practically everything. You felt like you could speak to her the whole evening and never get tired of it. You saw a mother figure in her. The mother you've always wanted. She has such a nice energy around her. Always genuinely smiling at you and listening to you dearly. Yet you didn't even notice that each member of that table was listening to you as well. Thinking nicely of you. When you came to an end of your long monologue about your decision to change your life, you looked around. Everyone was smiling at you. Expect for the guy that was sitting on the left, the closest to you. He wasn't even looking at you. At least you got the chance to take a proper look of him. Scanning his side profile. He was indeed…handsome. There was something about him, making him so manly. (He could definitely teach me a lesson in bed…wait what?) You gulped a little and looked back at the lady, who caught your attention on her son and looked back at him immediately. Smiling widely. As if SHE KNEW. From such situation you turned red as a tomato. As you wanted to talk yourself out of this situation and disappear, she started talking again. Your level of French is good. I wouldn't even recognize you are not native. Ah, thank you very much. My friend helped me a lot - you smiled. Your friend? Is it a man? (What?) Ehm, no. I live with my best friend Mary. I meant her. Ah, that is good. But your necklace is very beautiful. You said it was a gift? Yes, I got it from my aunt. I haven't seen her in years. She is living far away. I see. Sometimes it is hard not to see the people you love. But as long as you have them in your heart- I do, but still - I am glad I'm here in Monaco.

Suddenly someone bumped into you hard. You fell forward, right onto the guy. His face deep in your cleavage now. His hands up in the air and your palms all over his thighs. Making a temporary support for you. By your reflex, you wanted to get back obviously but you couldn't. Something was holding you back. Big hands. Squeezing your ass. The realization hit you hard. And your breasts were still making a point of interest number one for this guy. Each slight movement of you trying to desperately move away from his face, made you only moving from side to side since you couldn't go back - making his face a massaging tool for your breasts.

Hey! At this time you've heard Jean shouting. Thanks to that, the man let you and you finally felt free. You shifted back to a standing position. Looking back on the man furiously, trying to get hold of his face. But too late, you only saw his back and he was getting away fast. Jean shouted many swear words and told him to never come back. When he got the attention back to you, he walked toward you. Are you alright YN? he hold you by your shoulder. Ehm, yes. Of course. I'm fine. But.. mon dieu. What a…. Prick? Yes. I make sure he will never come back here again. We keep evidence of their names. You just nodded. Thanks Jean. Well your mood was certainly out of place. No doubt about that. The whole place was upside down, whenever your eyes wandered, you saw faces full of pity. And it made you feel even more anxious. You couldn't stay here for much longer. But you still knew you have one thing to do.

I am very sorry. I didn't mean to trip on you. Gesticulating with your hands towards the guy. It was embarrassing enough but he looked mad? His jaw tight. It appeared he wasn't even breathing for a sec. Well you certainly didn't have the time to argue with anyone and especially with this guy since this was not even your fault! As you were getting furious again, he spoke. It is not your fault - keeping his gaze in front of him. For the first you've heard his voice. Your mouth fell quite open as you were processing it, because - you liked his voice. The accent did something to you. Something you weren't paying so much attention right now, but late in the night, you will recall it for sure. You stopped to look at his lips. Waiting for him like he is about to say something. He intrigued you enough - (Why?) - and that made you uncomfortable. YN, right? - the old lady asked. You turned your gaze to her. I'm Pascale. Friend of Jean's is a friend of mine. She offered you a little smile. You smiled at her too, but honestly you wanted to be anywhere else but here. You got embarrassed enough.You felt dirty. So mostly from now on you kept your head down. Thinking of anything how to keep your mind occupied, your eyes cascading from one point to another, trying not to catch one of those pitiful faces around you. Crunching your fingers having them by your side was a bad habit of yours when you were nervous. As you inhaled and wanted to get back to work, Jean spoke up.

YN, we will be ok without you. What about I will take you home? you looked at him. Really? But - you still have many diners here. No, it is ok. We will manage somehow - offering you a weak smile. What about my son Charles taking you home? If it were be snapped on a camera shot, it would be hilarious to look at that. Everyone turned their heads towards Pascale in a second - looking shocked. But especially you since it was about you the most. Pascale's expression was like Hey, what are you looking at me like that? Well, Jean - you need to stay here. You are understaffed today. And since I am your friend and now YN's as well, I'd like to help you out, both of you. Charles has a car here, he will gladly take you home YN.

You just thought O-MY-GOD. You looked like you need a tequila shot. You tried for a polite smile, looking to the ground with your eyes wide open and answered I will then change to my clothes and wait outside - as you put your head up, you said goodbye to the whole table, offering a polite smile and thanked Pascale for her help. Jean kissed you on both cheeks and told you to call him if you need anything and that he will call you tomorrow about your money. You just nodded and went to change. -

Tu n'as pas de problème avec ça charles n'est-ce pas? Non non maman - Charles kissed her mom on cheeks. Said goodbye to everyone and kissed her girlfriend on the forehead. Saying he will be back shortly. As he stood up and went for his car, he felt that something's gonna change. -

(Perfect, as if it could get any worse.) You didn't have any particular problem with him. But he certainly had a problem with you. OBVIOUSLY. It was uncomfortable to you. Like right now you are put in a position of a small child being told what to do by her mum. You were mad at yourself for letting that happen. You could have said no. A simple NO. You titled your head as you were processing it. That is exactly why you got out of your hometown for this exact reason, not to be told what to do anymore.

You got out of the changing room and went for the exit. The warm yet colder air outside hit your face and you felt like you could finally breath. You inhaled deeply and let your body let loose. Taking a break from all the stress you've been put up with within the last few hours and let your body feel free. As you opened your eyes again, you saw Charles leaning back of his car looking at you, having sunglasses on. (Weird. As if the sun is on the horizon now haha) You concentrated on your steps as you were going down the stairs. -

As I was minding my own business, she caught my attention when appearing on the top of the stairs. I took a look at her. A proper look. She was standing there, her eyes closed and smiling a little to herself. She now looked more innocent, more calm than before. She kept still with her eyes closed. As she stayed there like this, it was like she was calling for me. Waiting for me to get her. I imagined her she is standing on top of the hill, waiting for me to come to her and take her orders. Serve her as she is supposed to be served. Help her fulfill her dreams, make every desire of hers possible. Like my whole life depends on it. When she opened her eyes again, she looked at me. Her gaze bore into mine even from afar. Yet I felt she is so close to me. Shivers went down my spine. I was watching how her beautiful white dress hugged her body, her waist, her hips, her thighs - yeah, she could definitely hug me with these when getting down on her… Her hair were let loose as well, getting played by the wind. Framing her face and revealing it all at the same time. Making me feel like she is a woman of many faces, beautiful faces. I was mesmerized. She really moved with grace. My body stiffened all of sudden the closer she got. When she finally got next to me, I cleared my throat and stood up properly. -

Charles opened the door for you - to your surprise. Oh why, thank you. You said nicely and smiled at him. He looked at you, slightly confused and like he is touched by your words. To his own astonishment he looked to the side and waited patiently for you to hop inside. Your smile slowly disappeared. (That is gonna be a long way to go). As you hopped inside, he closed the door and went to his side. You were suddenly feeling butterflies in your stomach. (What is happening?) You gulped a little and fidgeted. Hugging your thighs with your palms. Trying to focus on the material of your dress rather than his presence. Even though his presence was so attractive to you. Suddenly and thankfully a thought came to your mind - you don't even know in which car you are sitting right now. As Charles was starting the car, you asked. What is this car? You looked at him. He looked at you, still looking like you said something unforgivable. (Well this is cringe). Ferrari 488 Pista Spider. Oh, - you said - that is very specific. (more of like very cringe. Why are you being dumb now?) You titled your head. I mean, of course - you know your car. Tic tac, tic tac. Tic tac, tic tac. SILENCE. (Oh dear God, why am I stupid. Why do I care once again? It's not that I like him or something.) Do you want some music? he asked you. He got you out of your spiraling thoughts. Ehm - yeah, sure. Ok, you can choose the radio station. As he pointed out on to radio, turning it on. You moved forward feeling self conscious. Yet you were able to focus on the radio after a while. You paused switching the stations when you've heard a song from Two feet. One of your favorite interprets. In a second you started jamming to the sounds and humming together, while laying yourself back to the seat. After some time passed and looking outside the window you asked.

WAIT, How do you know where to go? as you looked back at him, little bit startled. Charles was not bothered at all by your tone, yet your question. You saw a smile creeping up on his face. Jean told me meanwhile you were changing. Ah. You nodded. It is true that Jean was asking you in which part of Monaco you live, for the very first time you two met at his mom's cafeteria. And Charles once again got you back from the inside of your mind. You like this music? Your eyes clicked from his face to the radio, back to him. Yes, I like this music. It is very…sensual. Plus it is still more about the background rather than the lyrics so I overhear it as much as possible and then I try to play it on the piano. They have indeed beautiful songs. - ….. - That is why I like them. They speak to me through emotions. - okey, wow, can we pause for a second? (Like when have I talked this much about music?) Your eyes back on the road trying to forget this whole situation. (Cazzo!) Shutting your eyes quickly. I actually understand you. I hear it as well. I just never got the chance to listen to them since I don't know them. But I believe in what you're saying. Really? - as you looked back at him. Yes, I play on the piano as well. That is when you were smiling again, genuinely. And he was too. (At least you found something in common if not anything else.) Still you decided to keep quiet from now on. Not wanting to talk about your emotions again at ALL. As you were getting closer to your place, you were getting more comfortable with the quietness between the two of you. But it hadn't stayed that way for so long.

Wait! What?! We are passed my place. You turned around to see the back of the car, looking through the back glass and trying to find a familiar street for you to tell him, where he needs to take a turn. -

As I was thinking about this whole situation, YN startled me with her attentive voice. - I loved her soft voice actually. She was nice to listen to, even when she was talking about her dress caressing her skin haha. She is funnily sometimes, which always gets me smiling a little. I'd listen to her for hours, I liked when she was talking about her story, it made her feel so human and to my surprise I focused on each words that left her lips. - She told me that we are past her place and we need to go back. As she was leaning backward, with her torso twisted and her chest facing me, I took a look. The sight relived in me the memory of today's diner. When she tripped on me, I've had her breasts all over my face. Feeling her softness and smelling her scent. A mix of a vanilla with jasmine wood, cinnamon and a little bit of honey. I was trying to figure it out for the rest of the diner. I knew for a fact that this is one the most amazing smell I've had the chance to be in interaction with it. But that disgusting man, If I wouldn't have my girlfriend by my side, I'd punch him in the face. I regret it now. I should have done it. But then again, my girlfriend's face haunts me. I see her in front of me. -

As you were searching for your way out, you took a peak at Charles just to see he is pissed. (What is this guy's problem??) As you sat back down, facing the window, you've told him exactly where to go.

Yes, there it should be fine. Charles parked in front of your building. As you were going after the handle Charles stopped you with his words Don't. You froze and waited for him. He got out, walked to your doors and opened them for you. You smiled you didn't know. Bating your eyes at him - again, something you weren't aware of. Thank you. You said shyly and softly. Charles was still standing in front of you. And slowly taking his sunglasses off. Is this your place? - pointing on the right. Yes. As you both looked towards the doors. When you looked back at him, you finally saw his eyes from the front. (Are they green or brown? Hard to tell when it's dark outside) What? - he asked you, getting you out of your thoughts. (Was I obvious??) Nothing haha. (Fuck) - Ok, thank you once again. I'm gonna head home. And please say thank you to your mum. I appreciate it so much. He just nodded. Leaning his left hand to hold your right arm, kissing you on the cheeks. When it comes to this form of greeting, you got used to it already, yet with him, it made you nervous. Smelling him and feeling him, your knees got a little weak. You'd definitely let him touch your lips with his. Wanting to feel his lips closer to yours. As you breathed some oxygen again, you were conscious your cheeks are turning red. A little smile creeping on your face. (Thank God it is dark outside.) Au revoir Au revoir, prends soin de toi take care You nodded and as you were walking to the doors, you reminded yourself to NOT look back yet you wanted so badly. When you got behind the doors, shutting your eyes, Charles went back to his car. Sat down and smiled for himself. Still feeling your scent in his car, looking on the seat where you were sitting. Wanting to see you there once again, next to him. He felt like a little boy, once again, smiling from ear to ear, feeling something he hasn't felt in a long time. He came alive again.

[pompadourpink]

Les temps du passé

Le plus-que-parfait

The pluperfect is made of two words: an auxiliary (être or avoir, depending on whether the action happens to the subject's body or not) conjugated in the imperfect tense and a past participle.

j'étais, tu étais, il était, nous étions, vous étiez, ils étaient

j'avais, tu avais, il avait, nous avions, vous aviez, ils avaient

It is used to talk about the past in the past: j'avais fermé la porte quand tu es rentré - I had locked the door when you came home.

Nous étions parties - we were gone

J'avais fait la vaisselle - I had done the dishes

-

L'imparfait

The imperfect, one of the most common past tenses, is made of one word and used to describe the past (former habit, historical detail, description) or a long-term action.

La maison était très grande - the house was very big

Les soldats dormaient peu - the soldiers wouldn't sleep much

J'allais nager tous les dimanches - I used to go swimming each Sunday

La conjugaison

j'allais, tu allais, il allait, nous allions, vous alliez, ils allaient

je finissais, tu finissais, il finissait, nous finissions, vous finissiez, ils finissaient

je pouvais, tu pouvais, il pouvait, nous pouvions, vous pouviez, ils pouvaient

-

Le passé composé

The perfect tense is the younger sibling of the pluperfect: it is built the same way but the auxiliary is conjugated in the indicative present instead of the imperfect.

je suis, tu es, il est, nous sommes, vous êtes, ils sont

j'ai, tu as, il a, nous avons, vous avez, ils ont

For compound tenses, been (été) is added in case of a passive voice. It is used to refer to the action, a short-term event that is already done and only happened once.

Ils ont mangé les derniers raisins - they have eaten the last grapes

Je suis partie hier matin - I left yesterday morning

-

Le passé simple

The simple past, usually learners' least favourite tense, is the pompous, literary equivalent of the perfect tense. It is built with a single word and the first and second-person plurals get a circumflex accent.

je fus, tu fus, il fut, nous fûmes, vous fûtes, ils furent

j'eus, tu eus, il eut, nous eûmes, vous eûtes, ils eurent

j'allai, tu allas, il alla, nous allâmes, vous allâtes, ils allèrent

je fis, tu fis, il fit, nous fîmes, vous fîtes, ils firent

je pus tu pus, il put, nous pûmes, vous pûtes, ils purent

-

Le conditionnel passé

The past conditional is another compound tense: it is built with an auxiliary conjugated in the present conditional and a past participle.

je serais, tu serais, il serait, nous serions, vous seriez, ils seraient

j'aurais, tu aurais, il aurait, nous aurions, vous auriez, ils auraient

It expresses regret or a theory/fantasy.

Je serais venue tôt si tu m'avais prévenue - I would have come early if you had warned me

Il aurait voulu être un artiste - he would have wanted to be an artist

Le passé antérieur

The perfect past, another compound tense, is built with an auxiliary conjugated in our good friend the simple past and a past participle.

je fus, tu fus, il fut, nous fûmes, vous fûtes, ils furent

j'eus, tu eus, il eut, nous eûmes, vous eûtes, ils eurent

It is only found in old novels and expresses the anteriority of an action compared to the one that follows: it is a posh version of the pluperfect.

Il eut vite choisi un cadeau - he quickly picked a gift

Je fus étonnée de te voir à la fête - I was surprised to see you at the party

-

Le passé récent

The recent past is built with the verbal phrase venir de conjugated in the indicative present and followed by an infinitive.

je viens de, tu viens de, il vient de, nous venons de, vous venez de, ils viennent de

It is very common and refers to an action that just happened.

Je viens de finir de manger - I just finished eating

Nous venons de rentrer - we just got home

-

L'impératif passé

The past imperative is built with an auxiliary conjugated in the present imperative, an absence of pronoun, and a past participle. It only exists in the second-person singular and first and second-person plurals.

sois, soyons, soyez

aie, ayons, ayez

It expresses the anteriority of an action (order, prohibition, suggestion, plea) compared to the one that follows]

Aie rangé ta chambre avant que je rentre - have your room tidied before I get home

Soyez partis pour neuf heures - be gone by nine

N.B. This is not that common anymore especially for avoir, natives typically will use tu as intérêt à être/avoir--- (you better be/have---) or use another verb to sound more polite: essayez d'être partis pour neuf heures - try to be gone by nine

-

L'infinitif passé

The past infinitive is another compound tense built with an auxiliary conjugated in the present infinitive and a past participle.

être

avoir

It expresses the anteriority of an action accomplished before the one that follows and is mostly used in written instructions.

Être levé à l'heure est important - being up on time is important

Avoir garder la cuisine propre est attendu svp - keeping the kitchen clean is expected please

-

Le participe passé

The past participle is the second element of compound tenses to express an action that happened in the past.

-s, -se, -s, -ses

-ø, -e, -s, -es

-us, -ute, -us, -utes

It works like an adjective, is often short and contains many irregular verbs.

Elle a fait ses valises - she has packed her suitcase

Ils ont ouvert la porte - they have opened the door

Nous sommes morts - we are dead

Movie: La Belle et la Bête - Jean Cocteau, 1946

Fanmail - masterlist (2016-) - archives - hire me - reviews (2020-) - Drive

[queenmimi2817]

This is a birthday gift to @fanaticsnail . Without you I would not have joined a server and made so many friends who have helped me fall in love with art again. Blythe exists because you invited me, and I am grateful.

————————————————————————

Canidae tapped the pen to her cheek, trying to figure out how to word this letter. It had been a few days since Tobiuo was gone, but it already felt like years. She looked to the old clock on the wall before writing in her first language, French; writing a message she hoped her friend might receive.

Tobiuo,

J'ai entendu dire qu'aujourd'hui était un jour important pour vous. Je tenais à vous faire part de ma gratitude et de mon appréciation. Alors que je suis assis à mon bureau et que je travaille sur le Polar Tang, entouré des souvenirs et des prix que nous avons partagés ensemble, je ne peux que souhaiter que vous en fassiez partie. Je vous suis très reconnaissant, que ce soit pour votre attitude distante à mon égard ou pour la lumière dont j'ai besoin les nuits où mon navire se rapproche dangereusement des rochers. Tu me manques et j'ai hâte que notre voyage reprenne. J'espère voir le Grand Bleu et que tu n'auras pas trop de rancune. Je te promets de t'emmener rencontrer maman et voir les aurores boréales. Sois prudent et j'espère que ton rêve se réalisera, car tu fais partie du mien.

Je t'aime,

Fey Marvella-Kelia Tenrou

Votre Canidé

English:

Tobiuo,

I heard today is an important day for you. I wanted to extend my gratitude and appreciation. As I sit here at my desk working the Polar Tang, surrounded by the memories and prizes we’ve shared together; I can only wish you were among them. From being standoffish towards me to being the light I need on nights when my ship is dangerously close to rocks, I am very grateful for you. I miss you and can’t wait for our journey to restart. I hope to see the Deep Blue and that you don’t hold too much of a grudge. I promise to take you to meet mama and to see the northern lights. Please stay safe and i hope your dream comes true; because you’re part of mine.

Love,

Fey Marvella-Kelia Tenrou

Your Canidae

Canidae rolled up the letter and shoved into a small glass bottle before making her way to the deck. Carefully, she placed the bottle in the ocean, watching it start to drift off with the currents.

Hopefully it would reach the missing part of home.

————————————————————————

Happy early birthday Snail, thank you for existing. ❤️

[chartmyfixations]

cris watches dr. who: s03e02 - "The Shakespeare Code"

"Come on! We can have a good flirt later!" "Is that a promise, Doctor?" "Oh, fifty-seven academics just punched the air. Come on."

The victim in the opening scene kind of gives me Captain Jack Harkness vibes

Look, I get that we're doing MacBeth, but there had better be a twist to these three witches other them being three old crones. C'mon, Dr. Who, that's a very tired trope

Of course Martha wants to know how it works. She's asking all the relevant questions –  the grandfather paradox, standing on a butterfly in the past, slavery viz a viz her. The Doctor skates right by her all very legitimate complaints

A Harry Potter-call out! Poor Dr Who authors - they had the foresight to predict book seven would be a tear jerker, but not J.K. Rowling's bad turn into transfobia after that

Aw, he misses Rose. Martha is not amused. (Doctor, you dope! You don't bring up the ex when you're sharing a bed)

Bisexual Shakespeare confirmed! It's me, I'm one of the fifty-seven academics punching the air

Ah yes, the convenient, once per season telepathy

"Let me out!" "They're all shouting that!" Hee

I do enjoy the running joke about the Doctor inspiring Shakespeare's words, never mind the massive holes in the space-time continuum. (If the Doctor quotes to be or not to be at Shakespeare, then Shakespeare would have never written those words to inspire the Doctor in the first place. Unstable time loop, that is.)

Hee. The famous Shakespeare collar! (Fuck you, I went to Stratford-upon-Avon, I'm almost a Shakespeare scholar.)

Ooh, so Martha is the Dark Lady? That's hot

So, is the title a reference to Dan Brown? If so - why?

Elisabeth hates the Doctor! Is this a callback to really old episodes or a callforward to future episodes? Only time will tell!

5 out of 8 Tardes. Shakespeare was a little too annoyingly smarmy and the gift of words is a little too hokey

[titleleaf]

Various Wills Graham & The Man Your Haunted Eideteker Could Smell Like

I promised you a really long-winded post about why the "ship on the bottle" aftershave exchanges don't work for me in the TV show and I am here to deliver. Thoughts on Will and Clarice's respective ~*~*~*signature scents~*~*~* in the novels, how the scent motif gets updated for the NBC show, and the smells I want 2013 Will Graham to smell like. Come with me on an olfactory journey.

(That second ad: dude, ew.) Gird your loins because there is so much corny sailing imagery to come.

In The Books

Dr. Hannibal Lecter lay on his cot asleep, his head propped on a pillow against the wall. Alexandre Dumas’s Le Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine was open on his chest. Graham had stared through the bars for about five seconds when Lecter opened his eyes and said, “That’s the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court.” “I keep getting it for Christmas.” Dr. Lecter’s eyes are maroon and they reflect the light redly in tiny points. Graham felt each hair bristle on his nape. He put his hand on the back of his neck. “Christmas, yes,” Lecter said. “Did you get my card?” “I got it. Thank you.” Dr. Lecter’s Christmas card had been forwarded to Graham from the FBI crime laboratory in Washington. He took it into the backyard, burned it, and washed his hands before touching Molly. [...] “Your hands are rough. They don’t look like a cop’s hands anymore. That shaving lotion is something a child would select. It has a ship on the bottle, doesn’t it?” Dr. Lecter seldom holds his head upright. He tilts it as he asks a question, as though he were screwing an auger of curiosity into your face. Another silence, and Lecter said, “Don’t think you can persuade me with appeals to my intellectual vanity.”

(Red Dragon, Thomas Harris, 1981)

Will is in his mid-to-late 30s circa s1 of the NBC show, airing in 2013; his book counterpart is ~40 at the time of Red Dragon (at least prior to some later timeline shuffling? I think?) which would make him ~34-35 at the time of his briefer encounter with Lecter in that continuity. The substantial difference is when they're born -- the early 1940s rather than the late 1970s. Show Will's Gen X. Book Will isn't even a baby boomer, he's Silent Generation! These generational cohorts don't mean very much but in some things, like fashion and marketing, they flag differences in how certain products are marketed and how they're viewed.

(all my Old Spice bottle images in this post come courtesy of OldSpiceCollectibles)

The aftershave lotion with a ship on the bottle that Hannibal is bitching about is almost certainly Old Spice -- the OG Old Spice, as formulated in the late 1970s. This was a golden era for aftershave in gift-giving (witness the dozens and dozens of different collectible Avon bottles) and while the classic Old Spice bottle very much does have a ship on the bottle, Willy might have given his stepfather any number of novelty bottles designed for gifting, all of them with roughly similar early-Americana/nautical themes. Ship's wheels, ship's lanterns, ships in general, scrimshawed whale teeth, binoculars, basically anything you could possibly want. (I'd wager this is at least in part to keep up with similar collectibles coming out of Avon, but I might have that the wrong way around, or be completely off the mark altogether.)

http://www.oldspicecollectibles.com/Bottles/novelty bottles.html

The fragrance inside the bottle is a spicy floral with resinous basenotes, what for decades has been called an "oriental" fragrance. (Mercifully some parts of the industry seem to be beginning a shift toward less racist language, and I hope that shift continues, I'm seeing people float "ambrée"/"amberesque" and other language to evoke the spicy, warm profile of some scents.) It's an alcohol-based aftershave lotion, so it stings like a mother when you put it on freshly-shaven skin, and it's not great for hydration.

For cultural context, most of this will probably be stating the obvious, but I think it's interesting with the book's themes around social class, family -- Will's little family, Dolarhyde's family of origin, Dolarhyde's victims' family -- and masculinity.

In 1981, Old Spice is already positioned firmly as a highly accessible men's fragrance in the US -- available pretty much anywhere at the drugstore level, with a coordinating line of toiletries like shaving cream if aftershave isn't enough for you. For a wide swath of people of a certain age, it carries associations with dads and grandfathers, or the transmission of rituals around masculinity and coming of age from father to son. (This is weird for me as a person who came of age during the whole "The Man Your Man Could Smell Like" campaign, which aimed at revamping Old Spice's product line and aiming it toward a younger demographic, in competition with Axe. That Old Spice revamp was probably my intro into men's fragrances and it's so fucking embarrassing to say that -- it seemed very transgressive and butch to me to be wearing men's deodorant with my Catholic schoolgirl 'fit every weekday.)

It's chronologically feasible that Will's dad also wore Old Spice, and it makes sense as the kind of gift you'd give your new stepdad -- it's an impersonal gift, reflecting a fairly conservative, mainline, American masculinity. The unease many American men still felt about using scented products — even deodorant, which remained a squeamish topic — could be mitigated by the association with shaving the face as some distinctly male ritual and one taught by fathers to sons as part of their entrance into adolescence.

Have another incredibly corny print ad from 1970:

(the text is tiny here, but the gist is: hey, all these different dudes love Old Spice! Grandpa Hal! Uncle Fred! Jack! Dave! Even that goofball Pete! Just a whole bunch of guys.)

So Hannibal's remark has layers -- he's needling Will about the fact that he knows (or suspects) that Will now has a wife and child, which he likely didn't have when they last encountered each other. He's taking a swipe at his social class and his lack of sophistication — for someone with a dainty nose and a decidedly bitchy sensibility (especially in RD) Old Spice is very much déclassé. And in a narrative level, the fact that Hannibal is distinguished by his aesthetic refinement and a certain degree of fussiness as well as viciousness sets him and Will in opposition, two different modes of masculinity. I have… a lot of thoughts about how Thomas Harris uses aesthetics and sensory pleasure and refinement — certain fabrics, certain garments, certain styles of penmanship — to frame social deviance in these books but that’s for a different post I’m definitely not going to make.

This moment gets a fun parallel to Hannibal's first meeting with Clarice in The Silence Of The Lambs (1988):

“Now,” Lecter said, sitting sideways at his table to face her, “what did Miggs say to you?” “Who?” “Multiple Miggs, in the cell down there. He hissed at you. What did he say?” “He said, 'I can smell your cunt.”' “I see. I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream, and sometimes you wear L'Air du Temps, but not today. Today you are determinedly unperfumed. How do you feel about what Miggs said?” “He's hostile for reasons I couldn't know. It's too bad. He's hostile to people, people are hostile to him. It's a loop.” “Are you hostile to him?” “I'm sorry he's disturbed. Beyond that, he's noise. How did you know about the perfume?” “A puff from your bag when you got out your card. Your bag is lovely.”

This is definitely a different tone than he takes with Will Graham, both because he has a very different past history with Will and because of Clarice's position as a woman, placed in front of him as an object for scrutiny. L'Air du Temps is also an old school fragrance (premiering in 1948) and had been popular for several decades by the time the novel's set — a warm floral with the kind of powdery iris note that gets really annoying people on perfume review sites fighting over the words "old lady". (FWIW I own multiple bottles of L’Air du Temps and all but one are from estate sales. The one that isn't, I... uh... bought because I was thinking about Clarice Starling a lot at the time.) This one was and is a ton of women's signature scent, and there's nothing juvenile about it. Clarice wears it, and her mother might well have worn it too. That shit is iconic but for different reasons than Old Spice is for men.

(This little '80s spray is not what any of my bottles look like. If you want more on the various ways this one's been formulated over the years, check out the PerfumeShrine piece I linked above or this blog post on how to identify its different bottles and flankers.)

Someone on Fragrantica compared L'Air du Temps to the olfactory version of a pair of pearl earrings or a cashmere sweater — conveying polished, (small-c) conservative femininity. The inside of Clarice’s handbag is the recipient of scent here, not her body (that part's conveyed through the remark about her hand cream) and the indirectness of the detail under observation is what conveys the keenness of Lecter’s senses and how closely he’s paying attention to his visitor. He also huffs her business card because of course he does.

All of these elements of class and restraint are set in opposition to the crassness of Miggs’ unwanted commentary on Clarice’s body. With her good bag and her cheap shoes Clarice is faking a certain degree of maturity and presenting herself in the most palatable way possible for this interview ("determinedly unperfumed" and all the things that can mean; pretty but serious; feminine but not too feminine; performing the right social class, all along in flight from her "common" origins) but she’s still facing virulent misogyny from damn near every direction. The book doesn’t have quite the same pointed sense of a Theme(tm) around misogyny that the film manages, though that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have plenty going on with regard to gender, but I think the differences around how Hannibal identifies these two perfumes, and what the reader is meant to gather from each allusion or name drop, are telling and very fun.

Hannibal then goes on to give Clarice advice about how to zhuszh up her add-a-bead necklace with some semiprecious stones in order to best set off the color of her hair and eyes, which… again, I do not have time to get into that, but I’m obsessed with it.

In The NBC Show

Hannibal stands behind Will, his NOSTRILS FLARE as CAMERA SLOWLY PUSHES IN on the back of Will’s neck. WILL GRAHAM Did you just smell me? HANNIBAL Difficult to avoid. I really must introduce you to a finer aftershave. That smells like something with a ship on the bottle. WILL GRAHAM I keep getting it for Christmas. HANNIBAL Have your headaches gotten any worse lately? More frequent? WILL GRAHAM Yes, actually. HANNIBAL I’d change the aftershave. (s01e05 "Coquilles")

Love the mention of the back of Will's neck, already intimating that it's not his aftershave Hannibal's huffing here. This is something I just can't fanwank for the television show's remixed timeline -- if Will doesn't have a partner and child in his life, or really anyone else in his life in a position to be giving him presents, this recontextualized snippet about getting the offending aftershave for Christmas doesn't make a lot of sense. It works on the level of "hey, I recognize that bit!" and it establishes for the viewer (or reminds them of) Hannibal's highly developed sense of smell, but it doesn't make a lot of sense to me.

INT. HANNIBAL LECTER'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - NIGHT Hannibal comes into the dark room. Moves toward the refrigerator. Stops. Lifts his nose to the air. HANNIBAL The same unfortunate aftershave. Too long in the bottle. Hannibal opens the refrigerator door and the light illuminates a gun pointed at his head, Will Graham behind it. - (s02e07 "Yakimono")

HANNIBAL LECTER. He lies on his cot, asleep, his head propped on a pillow against the wall. Alexandre Dumas's Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine is open on his chest. Eyes still closed, he takes a long slow breath through his nose, smelling the current of air that the CAMERA traveled. He opens his eyes. HANNIBAL That's the same atrocious aftershave you wore in court. - (s03e09 "…And the Woman Clothed with the Sun", very directly drawn from Red Dragon)

What’s the modern-day analogue of the original Old Spice in 1981 — ubiquity, maturity, connotations around class and gender? I don’t know if there is one. In 2013 Will's more likely to be wearing Old Spice deodorant, post-rebrand, still with a ship on the packaging but called Fiji or Denali. Or Bearglove, or Wolfthorn. No doubt Hannibal would find that offensive, but offensive in a different way than his book counterpart way back in the Reagan administration.

There's no shortage of drugstore-y scents in 2013, highly accessible fragrances for a person giving a generic Male Gift at an accessible price point, or habitual buys for a guy who mostly wants to smell like he's at least attempting to be a put-together human being: D&G Light Blue, Davidoff Cool Water, CK One, CK Eternity. (Or their body spray equivalents, if you really want Hannibal to suffer, and I do, every day of my life.) But in general there's a* lot* more diversity in fragrance worn by American men in 2013 than there was circa the events of Red Dragon or at whatever age book!Will might have started using fragrance. There's no one scent that stands in for such a broad section of gender and class as Old Spice aftershave would have in the 1970s.

It seems doubtful that in 2013 Will's using whatever he's using primarily for its shaving benefits, not least of all because he's a bearded king. (Presumably he cleans his beard up from time to time and trims his neck and whatnot, but bear with me here.) True aftershave is still available in many drugstores, including some venerable names — Aqua Velva, Skin Bracer, Pinaud Clubman — but they’re no longer the arena of younger men unless they're curious budding fragheads. And you can still be an outdoorsy dude in 2013 wearing Old Spice, but it's a bit more of a self-conscious put-on at that point, either someone's buying Will tongue-in-cheek dad cologne to go with his house full of boat engines and dog statues, or Will's bashful about his own taste for tongue-in-cheek dad cologne.

What might Will be wearing in 2013? This depends on which aspect we’re trying to reflect. For modest budget and ubiquity I can see him going for the OG Polo Green or one of its flankers. (There's a great piece of NBC Hannibal perfume meta by Genufa that I swear I only encountered after I already chose this, and it mentions Polo Classic in tandem with Will, so I'm glad we're in agreement here.) For stuff in an amber-spice neighborhood, CK Obsession For Men maybe? Still retro (premiered in 1986) but not 1930s retro.

What’s a step up? If I was out here somehow tasked with buying this man a nice smelling gift, what would I choose? If Will wanted to treat himself with something under that broad constellation of selling points — a single fragrance for steady wear, something unflashy and congruent with his presentation of himself -- I would be really tempted to put him in something slightly more niche, but not a lot more niche.

I am a huge fan of Etat Libre d'Orange Fat Electrician, a really fun creamy vetiver that's sexy in a clean soft-butch kind of way. It's not spicy in the least but as the scent's subtitle of a "semi-modern vetiver" indicates it has a nice timeless quality, warm and clean-smelling but not soapy. (And a very subtle gourmand aspect -- chestnut cream or marrons glacés.) Or something from DS&Durga, Mississippi Medicine, or Bowmakers, or Burning Barbershop -- there's a whole slew of "vintage barbershop"-inspired scents that might scratch the same itch for someone who wears a fragrance out of habit and to feel grounded in a solid, put-together masculinity. (Maybe especially when he's not feeling otherwise particularly grounded or put-together.)

For different ways of evoking Will's kind of dignified no-fuss outdoorsman thing, Profumum Arso ("Cedar leaves, incense, leather, pine resin") maybe, or Fumidus, though it sounds like peaty hell to me -- Will seems to be a bourbon guy and not a scotch dude. For something a little more glamorous and a little more established, maybe Guerlain Habit Rouge, idk. 

What’s the next step up from these -- the equivalent of Bella's Bolt Of Lightning? If someone (with a bankroll on par with Hannibal, or Bedelia, or Jack, or Bella) were to introduce Will to a still pricier class of fragrance, what might that look like? It's hard for me to say, since this isn't a type of perfumery I engage with, like... at all. I like my indie oils, I like niche perfumers, I love decants, but I don't have a cool $800 to drop on a whole bottle of... anything. Once you reach a certain level you can shop pretty differently from normal people, up to and including getting something one-of-a-kind commissioned for your boytoy/crime gimp/ex-husband's ex-husband/etc. (And as a gift for someone else -- since none of these people barring possibly Bella has a remotely normal relationship with Will -- it'd say as much about their intentions with the gift and their perception of Will as the reality of who Will is.) So I'm going to have to mull that a while.

Absolutely none of this gets into the bonkers Farmacia di Santa Maria Novella sequence in Hannibal, which... has a lot going on, idk. ("Starling, then. Clean, and rich in textures. Cotton sun-dried and ironed. Clarice Starling, then. Engaging and toothsome. Tedious in her earnestness and absurd in her principles. Quick in her mother wit." Please, sir!) Like basically every other element of the series, the smell stuff gets ratcheted up to 11 for that book, and it seems like its own separate thing to unpack. Hannibal fucking loves shopping in that book and I love reading about his weird little ass shopping.

[lonelyroommp3]

my favourite part of my job is the church matriarch who looooves giving me things. started off as making sure i was getting fed at post-service refreshments until she twigged that i'm (supposedly) vegan and realised that frequently the only vegan option at church is Beverages, at which point she started very forcefully handing me aperol spritzes. then for her birthday (she comes from a culture of giving rather than receiving gifts on your birthday, worked out very nicely for me as our birthdays are like a week apart) she got me 2 bottles of wine plus a box of chocolates which i ended up passing on to my mum. and TODAY she gave me a massive chocolate coin (please disregard previous references to veganism because i WILL be scoffing this later. pobody's nerfect) and, bafflingly, a thing of avon deodorant. i will say though i did have a nosey around to confirm that she had given multiple other people deodorant too because if it was just me then it would have felt a bit pointed

[fangirlinglikeabus]

semi-serious sand thoughts:

i’m not actually opposed to servalan/tarrant conceptually, at least within this very specific scenario...part of that i think is that if you’re going to do a story that touches on a pain servalan experienced when she was very young, bringing in a Fresh Faced Youth to evoke that period of life works. also i get the impression that getting to play the dashing hero type does appeal to tarrant - see assassin, where he’s absolutely swayed by piri being apparently emotionally vulnerable and likely to need him. so like at the very least there’s some sort of precedent within the show. the fact that he’s so QUICKLY attracted by servalan’s tears adds to some of the ambiguity surrounding to what extent she’s manipulating him because surely she knows that, despite himself, this would be an effective way to win him over - and i’m not 100% convinced that would be the case with any other character. do i think all of this is entirely realised within the episode? uh...not sure. but i do think there’s reasoning behind the whole thing.

also i just think she deserves a boy toy or two idc

speaking of tarrant. love when servalan says he saved her life and he replies ‘we’re all entitled to one really big mistake.’ like buddy you are going to make one WAY bigger by the end of this episode.

adored that final scene of servalan thinking over both keller and tarrant before crushing the water cube tarrant gave her in her hand to get rid of the last of the sand. mainly because that looks like it could surely cut you, so it just comes across as this almost self-destructive act with which she closes off the potential for emotional vulnerability which was opened up by the sand trapping them. destroying both the gift tarrant gave her and the thing that brought them together. he remains unsure how sincere she was, she gets rid of any evidence she WAS sincere and in emotional pain - and to do so she breaks glass RIGHT into the palm of her hand.

(also potentially thinking of this in relation to ‘i don’t care about us’ and her placing tarrant’s gun up to her head and daring him to shoot her - which is pretty intense even if she guesses he won’t do it. women will literally murder their way into the presidency of an authoritarian state instead of going to therapy)

another good scene, this time with the scorpio crew: soolin theorising they’re being affected by that alien mind that got onto the ship through cally and vila snapping at her and storming off, only for her to admit to avon when he queries it that she doesn’t actually believe what she just said. just...up there with her telling orac ‘you wouldn’t know where to start’ when he offers her her heart’s desires in terms of what i find to be Tantalising Soolin Character Moments.

i’ve now also watched gold and while i think it’s a very solid episode (avon losing it laughing at the end when the entire crew are pissed at him because he risked their lives for a trap that got them nothing and netted servalan a bunch of money?? man has Reached His Fucking Limit and is now firmly Past His Fucking Limit) it does disappoint me a bit that dayna and tarrant seem to be largely interacting like usual. don’t get me wrong, i do like seeing the crew act like a competent unit and i’m not asking for a big blow up, but they’re probably two of the closer members of the crew, Away Mission Buddies, and he just hooked up with the woman who killed her father. that's a massive betrayal by someone she thought of as a friend, and i’d have liked a bit more obvious tension there even if it was just in small moments of interaction

i honestly had a great time with sand. i think every blake’s 7 member should have an episode where they’re locked in a room with servalan, i wanna see what would happen to each of them

[theroyalthornoliachronicles]

Thornolian Currency

The Émeraude is the current currency of Thornolia, established in 1811 following the coronation of Monsieur le Roi, Gaspard de Thornolie. As of 1850, it comprises of nine coins and four notes, the designs of which were heavily contested by the Eliskoye nobility who wished for more represenation (of which they received) and were minted by la Banque de Thornolie.

Thorns

Thorns are the coins of the lowest amount, and introduced the decimalisation system to the fledgling country in 1811. The concept introduced by members of the Eliskoyan settlers to the Thalian refugees upon arrival who were using the currency of Eliskoye at the time before the creation of Thornolia as it stands today.

Thorns are comprised of four coins, the 1, the 5, the 10, and the 25, and are used in a variety of ways to make up 1 Émeraude.

On the front of every coin (both Thorns and Émeraudes) is the profile of Monsieur le Roi, his name written along the outside edges along with the year the coin was minted.

On the back of every Thorn, the words Nous avons persévéré dans la lutte (Through struggle we perservered), the Thornolian Motto. This is a reference to both the Eliskoyan settlers being left behind to fend for themselves after the Eliskoyan monarch decided to no longer fund the settlement, and the Thalian refugees who arrived nearly a year later after being forced from their country. The perserverance between these two communities are the reason Thornolia exists as it does today, and is thus represented on every Thorn.

Émeraudes

Émeraudes are established as a mix of five coins (1, 2, 4, 10, and 20) and 4 notes (50, 100, 500, and 1000).

As stated, the front of every Thornolian coin is marked with the likeness of Monsieur le Roi, but unlike the Thorn, the back of every Émeraude bears the Crest of Thornolia, gifted to the Monsieur le Roi after his coronation and has since been used as a represenation of both the monarch and of the country. Along the edges of each Émeraude states the worth of each coin, as well as the year the coin was minted.

As well as coins, Émeraudes also consist (currently) of four bank notes. These notes are all similar in style, with interlacing branches connecting together as a border (representative of Eliskoyans and Thailians coming together as Thornolia), with both the Crest of Thornolia and the likeness of Monsieur le Roi printed along side the monetary value.

(Huge thank you to @digital-deluxe for helping me realise the concept of the notes! You're seriously my hero!)

[dirty-bosmer]

So a while ago, I had mentioned that my mom likes to send me care packages, mostly full of things she already had in her cupboard but figured I could use.

The most recent care package features:

huge bag of guajillo and ancho chiles

dried tamarind, leftover from Christmas ponche

guava paste

three packets of fruit snacks, 2 Motts, 1 Welch's.

Rice vinegar that she probably bought a year ago because it was on sale even though she never knew what she was going to use it for.

deer skin purse from a friend in Chiapas.

Arare (my favorite snack as a kid)

two bags of ground spices.

Knorr suiza (but specifically the kind that has spanish on the label because if not, apparently it's not worth using XD)

a wooden box I bought from a thrift shop as a teen. Inside was Avon brand eye cream and a bracelet I will never wear but cherish all the same.

I've been living on my own for nearly a decade now, but these assortments always make me feel so loved that I could cry. Such simple gifts yet such a pure expression of love. I don't know how I'm ever going to repay her with this one life I've been given.

[pbandjesse]

I am really tired. Today was a pretty excellent day. Which is really nice because I am wildly stressed about tomorrow.

I slept alright last night. I woke up a few times. But it was fine. I would wake up for real at 730. And stayed in bed scrolling on my phone until a little after 8. I made the bed. And took a shower. And tried to feel alright. I wasn't as introspective today but I was still tired.

I went downstairs and mom was on the couch. James was making breakfast. Mom was all excited that James she made breakfast for her. I'm glad that she was able to come and get taken care of a little. She deserves it.

James made me a hash for breakfast again and that was great. Me and mom chatted on the couch. She would go outside to sit on the porch swing and enjoy the brisk air with sweetp. It was a nice morning.

The plan was to go to the UPS store to get our indigogo backed campaign. Which was the cardboard router that I've been really looking forward to. And then we would go out to Ellicott City to go to the antique depot.

This mostly went fine. We got to UPS and when James went inside I realized I had stepped on dog poop and was beside myself. This is something that I am always so afraid of and was just so upset. We were really close to the museum so we would go over there to fix it. James would clean them with disinfectant and I would wash my hands a million times and changed into my Birkenstocks I keep in the car. I was trying very hard to not let this ruin my whole day but I was just so upset. This has happened only a few times ever and I remember every time so vividly because it is so upsetting to me. I was just trying so hard to breathe and not freak.

While James was working on cleaning my shoes me and Mom walked over to the water and took some pictures.

When we got back to the car James was trying to make me feel better but it was hard. They worry about my blood pressure and I was trying to just stop being upset but it was hard.

We got out to Ellicott city around 1045. And I was trying to be in a better mood.

I would have a lot of fun looking around. James was moving around the 4 stories with purpose. I wasn't sure what they were doing for a bit but they were going around finding the weirdest sports merch they could which was pretty funny. I would get in on to and sent them pictures as I was looking around.

I wasn't looking for anything in particular but I would have a lot of fun looking. Mom would even tell me what some things were that I didn't recognize. Like an ice shaver!

I would find some fun stuff. Some little gifts. A sandwich lizard, which is a toy I loved as a kid, great texture. I got a pill organize that's a little gold compact. And an amazing salad bowl that has frogs hanging off the side. It was just really fun searching.

Me and mom were down in the basement when I found this adorable dragon. It was from Avon and I could tell it had a container inside and I was trying to figure out what it was and I opened it, was startled because it was full of baby powder, got it all over me and the floor, and dropped the cap which fell under a shelf. I was laughing cause it was so stupid. But I found the cap and closed it and told my mom what happened because it was so silly.

We would finish all the floors. Found James again. And checked out.

When we got to the car we decided we would go back towards Catonsville for a snack. But as soon as we started driving I realized I didn't have my phone and panicked. I never lose my phone and I felt so stupid. I had been sitting on the floor in the basement looking through a basket. So we went straight there and it was in the middle of the floor. Felt so stupid. I was just glad it was in the first place we looked.

James tried to make me feel better. I hate how quickly upset I was getting today.

So we went to get a snack. Atwater's is a very nice cafe. James got a latte and a muffin. Mom got chicken salad, a cupcake, and a coffee. And I got avocado toast and a rootbeer. I did not want the nuts it comes with but it still came with them. Disappointed but I just took them off best I could. It would have been better with a fried egg rather then the folded egg it had. But I still enjoyed it and I enjoyed the conversations we had.

We discovered we all drink from a glass bottle differently. James said they thought the way I did was cute and I was like I truly don't understand how else you could drink this. Which lead to a whole debate about how to drink from a glass bottle. It was funny.

For our last stop we went a block away to a smaller antique store. I would find a cute little piggy bank and a pin for Jess. It was fun to look but mostly I loved when a woman came in to sell a set of Benoit balls. And her and the one shop owner didn't know what they were. But the other shop owner did and I was laughing when she was trying to explain. And I chimed in when they realized I was there and was like this is what they are. And it was hilarious. They are going to label them "massage bells".

We would head out of there and headed home. I was feeling really tired. It was a quiet ride back, with James podcast, and just a little chatting.

When we got home we brought everything inside. Unpacked and divided out the purchases. Me and Mom would lay on the couch and look at TikToks and talk. She was going to get ready to go soon. We opened my indigogo package. I was very impressed with how nicely built it was. I will probably try it out tomorrow.

But Mom had to go. She wanted to be home before the sun went down. Hugs all around. And then she was off.

The emotional let down after she went was tough. I was sad. And my body was just like. You gotta lay down. I didn't sleep. But I had to just lay down. And James hung out with me. But eventually I would go upstairs. I would work on moving some stuff from the guestroom to the baby room. I changed all of the knobs on the dresser with ones I had gotten today. But I was just exhausted. I went to lay in bed.

I felt very unsettled. I am still really stressed. About the election. About work. About everything. I am trying to think positive but man is it hard.

I would take a bath. And James made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And eventually a half a quesadilla.

James and Sweetp have been mostly dozing for the last hour. And I am ready to follow along. I hope I can sleep easy tonight.

Tomorrow James will go to work. And eventually I will go vote. And go to the craft store to pick up some things. And try to fill the day with making stuff so I don't feel so stressed and focused on politics.

I really hope and pray that tomorrow goes well. I love you all no matter what. Goodnight my friends.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 2/5

Book Blurb:

The Witch’s Heart meets The Foxglove King in this debut novel about a woman who can bring people back from the dead, and the princess—and only heir to the throne—that she must protect, no matter the cost.

The first time Hellevir visited Death, she was ten years old…

Since she was a little girl, Hellevir has been able to raise the dead. Every creature can be saved for a price, a price demanded by the shrouded figure who rules the afterlife, who takes a little more from Hellevir with each soul she resurrects.

Such a gift can rarely remain a secret. When Princess Sullivain, sole heir to the kingdom’s throne, is assassinated, the Queen summons Hellevir to demand she bring her granddaughter back to life. But once is not enough; the killers might strike again. The Princess’s death would cause a civil war, so the Queen commands that Hellevir remain by her side.

But Sullivain is no easy woman to be bound to, even as Hellevir begins to fall in love with her. With the threat of war looming, Hellevir must trade more and more of herself to keep the Princess alive.

But Death will always take what he is owed.

Review:

A girl who can bring back people from the dead, a princess who is blackmailing her to working for her, and Death who strikes a bargain in exchange for treasure. Hellevir has visited Death many times in her life, and when she brings back the life of Princess Sullivain, the sole heir to the kingdom's throne from an assassination.... Sullivain forces her to work for her. The catch is that Hellevir is falling for Sullivain and must find a way to figure out who is trying to assassinate the princess whose death would lead to a war.... but if she does not find a way to pay Death then he will take from her more than she could ever imagine. The book started off really fun but then fell apart the more it went on. I was initially really interested in the dynamic between Hellevir and Death, and honestly couldn't care less about the romance between Hellevir and Sullivain (which is so strange because I am always a sucker for a sapphic romance). Sullivain just felt like the wrong choice as a love interest and never really felt like there was any romance or connection between the two. The story itself just never really felt like it was there and the plot just didn't move all that well. Sadly I will not be continuing with this series. The initial premise sounded fantastic but the actual execution of the story felt lacking for me personally. I do think if you like necromancer/princess romance and don't mind a slow read, give it a go maybe you'll have a better time with it than I did.

Release Date: July 2, 2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Avon and Harper Voyager | Harper Voyager for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[just-horrible-things]

‘Verse: BBU Story: A Girl Called Spider Timeline: Spider has been with her owner for some time

Birthday Gift [Next]

“Azalea,” Avon calls. “Come downstairs.” She answers promptly, appearing at the top of the stairs so fast that she must have sprinted, skirt swirling around her thighs. 

Avon rolls his eyes as she perches on the top of the banister and slides down. She lands neatly on her feet, eyes sparkling and teeth dazzling white as she smiles.

It entertains her, which he supposes is worth something.

“Your birthday present is here,” he tells her. “Oh, Sir, you’re too kind.” Her effusive gratitude is as fake as everything else about her. He can’t believe it ever looked real, when he knew perfectly well from the start that it was manufactured. “I think you’ll like it,” he says, a hint of dry sarcasm creeping into his tone. She won’t believe him ‘til she sees it. “Come through, they brought it to the east door.”

Light on her feet as ever, she follows at his heels. She’s trying to get close to his side, maybe catch his hand, but he doesn’t feel like playing along today. Not when he has something real to offer her, for once. He strides ahead, leading her to her gift.

She falters when she sees the box, and Avon feels a stab of satisfaction at getting even a hint of a real reaction. The mask is back in place within moments. If he hadn’t been watching, he wouldn’t have seen the brief flicker of dismay.

Does she think he got her a brainless playmate like he threatened? Or is she afraid that the box might be for her?

“You got me a Pet, Sir?” she inquires, eyes wide and liquid with false wonder. “Go on, open it up.”

He’s already cut the sleek black tape that sealed the lid. He isn’t sure he’d trust Azalea with a box cutter. He watches her delicate fingers explore and find the cut edges, then figure out how to lift the lid. The outer layer is cardboard with a matte black finish, but the structure is metal, heavier than she expects.

At every new motion she makes tiny expressions, performing excitement for Avon’s benefit – but he thinks not all of her intense focus is feigned. She’s curious. She always is. They couldn’t quite beat the curiosity out of her.

She pulls foam out of the top of the box and discards it. The box’s occupant whimpers hoarsely at the touch of the light. Azalea peers in, then glances back at Avon for guidance.

“Go ahead,” he urges, “lift his head and take a look.”

Her usual sure grace is absent as she reaches tentatively down, figuring out how to touch the man in the box. Avon takes a step closer for a better look. Azalea lifts carefully, one hand on top of the guy’s head and the other under his chin. The curls of his hair come into view as she tips his head back, but Avon doesn’t get a clear look at his face.

Not that he’s looking at the unfortunate bastard anyway. He’s looking at his Azalea. And he gets an excellent view of her unfeigned, raw and honest shock as she recognises her gift.

“Surprise,” Avon drawls dryly.

She turns those wide, stunned eyes on him, and victory is warm in the pit of his stomach.

“You got him,” she says. “You actually got him for me.” “Happy Birthday.”

Now she’s eager, leaning over the edge of the box to try and thread her arms under her gift’s shoulders. Her skirt rides up, showing off the tops of her sculpted celebrity thighs. The man is too heavy for her, really. He moans weaky as she tries to haul him up, and his head lolls against her arm.

Avon takes pity on her. “The front of the box folds down.” 

Within seconds, she has it open, and her prize draped across her lap. He’s massive compared to her – broad-shouldered and still well-muscled despite his brief stint in captivity. But the drugs are clearly still in full effect, rendering him floppy and docile in Azalea’s slender arms.

The white t-shirt hugs his biceps and clings to the lines of his abdomen, semi-transparent with his sweat. The signature little black shorts look ridiculous enough on the lithe young things like Azalea and her male counterparts – they’re nothing short of absurdly boyish on a muscular thirty-something. Like someone crammed a gym bro into a child’s school uniform.

The only other things he’s wearing are a collar, and a gag. A simple bit of black plastic keeps his teeth apart and pulls the corners of his mouth back. The strap splits in two at the back of his head to keep the gag snugly secure.

“Hello, Handler,” Azalea breathes, staring down into half-lidded eyes. Her face is so close to his that he’d probably feel her breath if he weren’t insensate.

Avon watches her delicate fingers explore the rapt fascination. She runs a finger along his lower lip, wipes a thumb through the sticky saliva residue on his chin, and slips a finger between the strap and his cheek to test the tightness of the fit. 

When she pulls back his lip to inspect his teeth as if he’s a horse, Avon laughs out loud. His pet startles, as if only just remembering that he’s there at all.

“Is he really mine?” she asks, half-breathless with excitement. “Well, legally he belongs to me…” Azalea’s pout is sharply reproachful. “... but yes. He’s all yours.” “Can I hurt him?” “Try not to do too much damage,” Avon warns. “I don’t want you cutting anything off, ripping anything out, you understand me?” At least not until he’s had a long hard think about this guy’s ultimate fate. “I don’t want to have to take him to a doctor.” Azalea is nodding with frankly unsettling eagerness. “I’ll be careful, Sir,” she promises. “There should be some toys included in the box to get you started.”

The pet dumps her prize unceremoniously out of her lap onto the carpet and returns to the box. It only takes her a moment to find the compartment in the bottom, but she freezes partway through opening it up. There’s sudden fear in her eyes, and a kind of dawning horror. 

Another real reaction. Avon doesn’t bother to hide his smirk.

“... Will he even remember me?” she asks, hushed. “Don’t worry, kitten,” Avon smiles, magnanimous in victory. “I thought of that. They haven’t touched his memory, by my special request.”

Box forgotten, Azalea leaps up and dashes to Avon to throw herself against his chest. “Thank you,” she breathes, pressing her body against his. “Thank you, Sir, you’re the best.” Avon hums warmly, wrapping his arms around her. “I don’t want to hear any more whining about how I never get you anything nice,” he teases. “No, Sir,” she agrees.

Avon spins her like a child, and she squeals like one, and staggers, laughing, when he puts her down.

“Go on,” he urges, “unpack your toys. We have a booking for brunch at eleven. You’ll need to secure your new friend before we go. He should be a little more conscious by the time we’re done.”

She’s childlike again in her enthusiasm. The compartment slides out of the shipping box, and she takes the items out one by one, turning each one over in her hands for inspection before setting it carefully back in its place amongst the others.

Handcuffs, in supple leather. Two pairs.

Handcuffs, in unforgiving steel. Two pairs.

A riding crop, sleek black leather.  She swishes it through the air, eyes alight with interest.

Some sturdy bits of chain with locking clips on the ends.

A braided whip. Not the kind that you can kill someone with if you aren’t careful. WRU sell those, but Avon picked one that describes itself as completely safe for light punishment or play. 

With it pulled taut between her hands, his Azalea looks downright vicious. And more alive than he’s ever seen her. Despite the substantial hole in his wallet, Avon’s heart warms. Maybe this wasn’t a mistake.

More gags. A ball gag, for more thoroughly stifling speech. And a muzzle, of the kind they ship with Guard Dogs. The bit on the inside does the real work, the bars across the front are largely for show.

And a blindfold. Premium silk, not that the bastard deserves it.

Avon intended to get her some manner of cattle prod type device as well, to forestall complaints  of insufficient ways to inflict pain. But on close inspection of the voltages and amperages, all of the WRU offerings were too potent. He has no intention of giving her anything she could use to disable him.

“I love you, Sir,” Azalea breathes. She seems happy enough

Maybe he’ll get her something third-party later.

He checks his watch – one of his favourites, sleek and elegant rather than flashy. Forty minutes. Azalea is already dressed. They have time, but not an enormous amount.

“It’s time to go, Azalea. Secure him – I won’t have him blundering around breaking things when he wakes up.” “Secure him where, Sir?” “I don’t care.”

He can see the wheels turn as she considers her new responsibility – currently a slumped heap on the carpet. She considers the box itself briefly, before turning her attention to the handcuffs.

She picks the steel set.

There’s an unexpected efficiency, almost professionalism, to her movements as she flips her gift onto his front. She clips a cuff round one ankle – it bites the flesh, but it goes – and uses it to pull his leg up behind his back.

He cries out, weak and incoherent, as his hip bends back after hours spent curled in the box. Azalea ignores him, leaning her weight against his knee to hold him while she grabs his opposite wrist. She has to strain to get it close enough to his ankle to lock the cuff closed.

Even in pain, he can’t quite get his eyes open, but his face creases. He twitches, free fingers scratching feebly at the carpet.

Azalea grabs his other ankle, and repeats.

Then she hops daintily to her feet, leaving her hogtied victim twitching and whimpering on the floor behind her.

“Well,” says Avon, somewhat perturbed, “yes. I suppose that will do.” Azalea smiles brightly at him, and leans in for a kiss. He lets her peck his cheek. “Where are we going for brunch, Sir?”

[Next]

[fungsly]

Hello agin 👀 a actual question lol.

What are some like small headcanones things for jagger and your metal bat oc (I’ll do some if u you want me too as well 👀) /nf POs gen

I feel as though Avon (his name is now Avon Gato Somnia!, pronounced Ah-von Gaw-toe) has a very hard time expressing his feelings so he brings gifts and flowers as a way to show he cares.

(Jagger (the first one) belongs to @beetea07 )