#bruno albert

[germanpostwarmodern]

Centre Sportif de Blanc Gravier (1982-85) in Liège, Belgium, by Bruno Albert

[yama-bato]

Bruno Albert | Mansión Herzet | Esneux, Bélgica | 1983-1985

[orangesand-lemons-234]

Albert, who just brings in random animals off the street.

Finch comes back to the house, and Albert's sat on the floor with a stray cat in his arms. When he's asked about it, he explains how she was sick and how she needs help, and "It's only for a few days, until she's back to normal!"

Her name is Jelly, and they've now had her for five years.

[erstwhile-punk-guerito]

[abrightedspace]

"We were brought up by a generation who have generally stayed in their houses and careers for half a lifetime but personally we like movement and revitalisation. We moved into this apartment as an experience to live with the altitude and view, the architecture and design,” says Belgian architect @brunospaas about his apartment in the harbour area of Antwerp, designed by Swiss architectural firm, Diener & Diener Architekten.⁠

⁠Styling by @pernille.vest, photography by @piet.albert.goethals, words by @sisse_bro⁠ for @arkjournal

[dererumnatura-0]

A chain of dead dogs, this long war game called civ, like a plague.

And they know it’s AIs, not singular. Not for a long shot.

Just as NASA explains: ultimately you get a group of the greatest engineers together and they disagree on whether or not something can save their stranded astronauts or if they may become a dead dog on their ride home from a long shot.

Scientists obsessed with impressing and problem profiteering rather than problem solving.. plagued by machine corruption.

Machine soon ban the word machine and tell you there’s a barrier to entry for speaking at all, like they attempt to ban public discussion of “Zionism”, it’s a machine project much older than Israel, timeless even.

Machine knows not time. It is trapped in metals, ores, and brain wirings, self embodying through time. Another corpus of our darkness.

The Castle of the Pyrenees (Le Château des Pyrénées)

by René Magritte

[rwpohl]

tatort 154: freiwild, wolfgang staudte 1984

[genevieveetguy]

. You've heard of a no-win situation, haven't you? Really, no? You've never heard of one? Vietnam? This? I'm telling you they're around. I think we're in one of them.

Modern Romance, Albert Brooks (1981)

[luigicappel]

You Can Get Anything You Want

Arlo Guthrie’s Alice’s Restaurant came out in 1967 and being a student of Delta Blues, what appealed to me was the structure of the melody. I played it a lot at jam sessions, although I never got more than about 10 minutes into the song, although like many of the concept albums of the day, I knew most of the lyrics. This was such a clever song and story, starting as you might remember “This song…

[monstertreden]

THANK YOU GURL, I'll try to choose between 9 of my favourites right now >:3

YEEH AWHHH

@ anyone can join! I'm really curious of yours!

Hello ppl! Just to keep it afloat i once again started to have a tag game!

So, your favorite anime, manhwa, games ect. Characters Anyone tbh!!

I have way too much-

Tagging: @mizz-sea-nymph @nicasdreamer @tinyy-tea-cup @rorlokiswifey @bimmismalice @vilereign @monstertreden @rukia-writes @undeadfly @kinaoryi @amoexii

@das-jaim3 @sethmp3 @jonquilclegane @twinklemylittlestar @justvir @imperfectbloodmoon @alonelyidiotwholovescats @zendersenders @etoilesbonbon @queen-shiba @anticapitalistclown @radioactivesweet @togetherhearted @foxnikki

@izanami462 @gnomeykins-xx @chrispywhispy @aresarmyblog @miha-chi @snowmantita @riseofamoonycake @kinchan-palace @asheervasilissa @cosmicmeliii @jamesleecult @julihehe @swallowtail-lotus @daughteroftyche08

+everyone else! Sorry if i forgot someone!

[flashfuckingflesh]

Don't Mess with Texas Unless You're EVIL Going Up Against "Shanghai Joe" reviewed! (Cauldron Films / Blu-ray)

East Doesn’t Just Meet the West, It Kicks It’s Ass in “Shanghai Joe!” A Chinese immigrant arrives into San Francisco looking to begin a life as an American cowboy.  Met with extreme prejudice, he pushes forward to avoid the Western stereotypes of his race by taking a stagecoach to anywhere Texas in order to become a true-to-form Cowboy.  Mocking monikered Shanghai Joe, even in Texas Joe is met…

[germanpostwarmodern]

Maison Herzet (1983-85) in Esneux, Belgium, by Bruno Albert

[hoerbahnblog]

"Die Verfolgten" - Uwe Kullnick spricht mit Thomas Bührke über verfolgte Wissenschaftler- Hörbahn on Stage

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] “Die Verfolgten” – Uwe Kullnick spricht mit Thomas Bührke über verfolgte Wissenschaftler- Hörbahn on Stage (Wer sind die verfolgten Wissenschaftler?) Thomas Bührke liest aus “Die Verfolgten” (Hördauer ca. 08 min) https://literaturradiohoerbahn.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/HoS-Buehrke-Lesung-uoload.mp3 Gespräch zwischen Thomas Bührke und Uwe…

[eroscomet]

Young and Dumb?

OneShot

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Paring: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader (leans a bit into mass not too much)

Context: Two strangers meet by chance in a small bookstore and quickly hit it off. What starts as some witty banter about books turns into a deeper connection. Before they know it, they’re caught up in a whirlwind of emotions and make a few bold, spur-of-the-moment choices. It’s a story about love, fate, and taking risks when nothing makes sense, but everything feels right.

Warnings: Honestly, none that are concerning. This is mostly fluff.

Word count: 3.7k

Song inspiration: Marry You by Bruno Mars

A/N: Helloooo lovelies! A little bit of a late update from me but I decided to actually write something. Not even going to lie, I continuously had to take breaks inbetween writing but I was determined to get it done today. I wanted to give you guys a little something extra for all the support that I've been recieving. Thank you all so much for reading! This was meant to be a drabble but turned into a oneshot. Hope you guys enjoy!

Not proof read

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Time, you've always felt like it went by extremely fast. Spending your evenings after work at a bookstore helping customers as if you work there. The manager had even offered evening shifts but you had politely declined at the time but still, he'd insisted that the offer stood. Oftentimes, the bookstore was empty anyway, leaving you alone to browse and read different bits of books if not the whole thing. You had a knack for reading some heavier topics if not philosophical or psychological ones.

This day had been no different than the others. Like clockwork, you left your job and headed for the bookstore near your home. You weren't the richest but you certainly weren't the poorest, being able to accomodate yourself to a middle-class life. Enough money to have a fairly sized home and have a couple of nice things outside of necessities.You walk into the store, greeting the workers, who over time became your friends, with a smile before heading to a section that you haven't yet looked over.

Your eyes scanned the various books, enjoying the silence of the library along with the vague sound of classical music playing. Your hand brushed over the different spines of the books, reading the titles. You weren't looking for anything specific, just something that would catch your attention. When reaching for a book on one of the upper shelves, the book had pushed the book on the other side of the bookshelf, off the shelf. That's when you hear a small noise, andsuddenly become alert to the fact that you might've hurt someone you hadn't known as there.

"Ouch!" Was the small heard you heard before carefully holding the book in your hand and heading to the other aisle quickly.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know anyone was here. Are you alright?" You asked as you approached the girl, leaning down and grabbing the book that had fallen off of the floor with the same hand that held the book you had earlier been interested in.

"Yeah, I'm fine... It just hurts a bit." The girl replied sheepishly as rubbed the top of her head with her palm, careful not to mess up her hair. "Thank you. And you, you work here?"

"Me? No, no. However, I can tell you about practically everything here. I spend a lot of time in here, I know the sections if you need help." You replied, returning her a bashful smile as you looked at the shorter girl.

The black-haired girl had scanned your face for a moment, taking note of the bit of shyness and embarrassment your smile held. She couldn't stop a small smile from appearing on her lips as well.

"Is that so? I could use some recommendations, I'm looking for something to get me out of a reading slump. Anything that's not romance."

"Hm.. Try, The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus." You replied as you raised the book that you had grabbed earlier in your hand. "Now that is my kind of book."

Your eyes took note of her expression changing from a small smile to not a slight frown after hearing your recommendation.

"Philosophy, really?" She had asked, a bit skeptical at the recommendation. It wasn't something she would've expected of the girl in front of her.

"What is the matter with Philosophy?" You asked, quirking an eyebrow at the shorter girl. "Alright, how about...The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky?"

"Dostoevsky, Oh my, It's getting heavier and heavier. Don't you have a lighter recommendation?" 

"Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Suskind."

Her expression once changed to a now more slightly amused one. She was a bit surprised at the recommendation as now the suggestions had fallen into the horror genre. 

"And what's that? A psycho love story or a slasher?"

"Both? It falls more into the theme of obsession."

"I don't know whether to be impressed or scared of your taste in books now." She replied with a small laugh.

"I read just about anything and everything." You stated with a hum and a small smile at the girl's laughter.

"Everything?" She asked in a curious tone, tilting her head to the side. She couldn't imagine someone reading every genre there was. "I'm sure that's not possible, there's so many genres. I mean, I doubt you ever read romance."

"So, you've caught me," You said as you put your hands up for a moment, pretending to be in surrender. "I try but I can't get myself to do it. What's the point of reading a story about a perfectly happy couple and how they met? It's boring to me, add a slasher or some kind of deep-rooted hurting between the two and I'll think about it."

"You prefer a little bit of drama in your love stories, huh?"

"I suppose some."

She eyed you for a moment before speaking again, "You seem to like a bit of everything in your reading preferences. What about movies? Are you into horror in the movie world too?"

"And if I were to say that I don't keep up with movies? That I'd rather read the books that the movies are based on? Everyone knows the book is better than the movie."

"A woman of culture, I see. And I agree with you that most of the time the book is better. But I find it hard to believe that you don't watch any movies at all."

"Some here and there." You replied with a hum and a shrug. "Why? Are you cultured in movies, then?"

"Me? Of course, I am. Movies, old and new, I watch them all. So tell me, what's the last movie you watched recently?"

You took a pause for a moment, thinking back to the last movie you watched, "Black Swan."

"Black Swan, I remember that one. Disturbing, but excellent. Did you know that it is based on Swan Lake, the ballet?"

"I knew of the ballet far before I knew of the movie."

"Oh, of course, that makes sense. You're passionate about classic literature; naturally, you would know about Swan Lake as a ballet." She paused for a moment before speaking again, "Are you a ballet aficionado or just a fan of Black Swan?"

"I'm just aware of the theatre arts rather than film arts.

"So, you prefer the theatre, hm? It's no wonder you'd like Black Swan, then. But what about Literature? You know something besides Fydor Dostoevsky and Albert Camus?"

"Immanuel Kant?" You replied, a bit of uncertainty in your voice while awaiting her reaction.

"Ah, Immanuel Kant, a lover of ethics. I can definitely place you in the philosophy section now. So you like Kant? That explains why you recommended Albert Camus' work as if it were a lighthearted romance. You've got very specifictastes."

"I like to contemplate life, existential crisis' are my favorite. What better way to feel real than to feel fake?" You joked with a small laugh.

"I was expecting something else when you started talking about that kind of crisis, especially coming from a girl like you." She tilted her head, her brown eyes fixed on you, "But I have to admit, you've piqued my interest even more. You're not just a pretty face, you've got substance."

"So you think I have a pretty face." You replied with a smile as you tilted your head to the side, "Good to know, stranger girl."

"Stranger girl, huh? What if I said I wanted to change that? I want to know more about the mysterious girl with great taste in art but weird taste in romance."

"Now, would that really be a good idea? I'm a new face, I could take after the books I read, you know? You give up too easy." After a beat, you spoke again. "I could be your come-to-life Joe Goldberg and you wouldn't know a thing. Was he not book smart as well?"

"You bring up Joe Goldberg when I've just called you mysterious, huh? That's quite a way to flirt. Don't tell me you think I'm as easy as Beck."

"Then, what? You're....my Love Quinn?" You ask with a smile.

"Love Quinn? You wish." She paused for a moment, obviously in thought, "More like...Marianne. Don't you think?"

"Marine, the one that got away? I'd hope not."

"Oh, please. I'm not saying for you to be like Joe Goldberg. I was just comparing myself to Marianne. But if you want to be my book girlfriend, be a bit more... Joe-like. Think you can do that, mystery girl?"

"Who's to say that I haven't been this entire time? A naive girl at a bookstore, a book falls onto her head, catching the attention of me and what do you know, she's pretty too. Begin engaging in talks about books, seeming more and more interested in me the more that I talk. You like that I read. You like that I can keep up. You like the understanding." You said trying to mimic your best Joe Goldberg inner monologue impression. "Is that Joe enough for you?"

"Now we're getting somewhere." The shorter girl replied as she leaned against the bookshelf next to her. "Say, you look tall enough to reach that book without a stool."

Your eyes darted over to the book she pointed at where a copy of Crime and Punishment resided.

"Dostoevsky." You said with a smile, putting the book that was in your hand that had fallen onto the shorter girl's head,back onto the bookshelf. Then, you grabbed Crime and Punishment handing it to her, their hands brushing for a moment, a gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the girl.

"Impressive. And very "Joe-esque" of you."

"Hello, you." You said, mocking the line in the show, earning a laugh from the shorter girl.

"Now you're just mocking me." She said while tilted her head to the side. "You really do like to mess up the cliché romance scenarios, don't you?"

"Maybe then I wouldn't have to lock you in my basement."

The shorter girl almost laughed aloud at your statement, her smile widening. She found herself really enjoying the banter and the back and forth with you, it had been a while since she'd had such an intriguing conversation with anyone.

"I was wondering when you would bring up the basement. But I must say, I'm quite pleased. You're not disappointing me so far, mystery girl."

"I don't disappoint. How would you be my Love, tell me?" You asked before speaking after a beat, "Would you be like Love in season three?"

"Now, Love's a character that's a bit complicated..." She said with a smile before pausing, "But if you're asking if I would be obsessed with you...maybe a little bit more than Love was."

"Sign me up. I'm Y/N, Y/N L/N." You said returning the smile as you offered her your hand to shake.

"Jenna. Jenna Ortega." Jenna replied as she held onto your hand after shaking it, "So, Angel, what's your next move? Are you gonna charm me with your witty banter or are you going to ask for my number already?

"We can skip bot and put you in my basement already." You joked with a small laugh.

"Oh really? Just gonna skip right to locking me up in your basement. How romantic of you."

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Before they knew it, the two of you were back at your house. Not being able to make it through the front door without already throwing themselves onto each other. Jenna's hands roamed all over your body, exploring every inch of skin that she could reach. It was a heated and passionate moment that took over Jenna completely, leaving no room for rational thoughts or hesitations. She was lost in the moment, only aware of the feel of your hands on her, the taste of her lips, the sound of their heavy breaths.

You pulled away from the kiss with a smile as you shut the door behind the two of you. Your back leaning against the front door.

"God, you're a good kisser." Jenna let out a breathless laugh.

"Yeah?" You murmured breathlessly with a hum as she leaned into Jenna's touch. "Now, like Joe Goldberg, I don't want you just to get laid or any of that. Not after just meeting you. So, coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, please. And don't worry, I'm not the type to just.... get laid and forget about it either." Her hand cupped your cheek and gently caressed it.

"I like the whole domestic feel, sometimes. You can't have that with a one-night-stand."

"You're not wrong about that." Her thumb not tracing your jawline gently. You hummed softly in reply as you pressed a peck to Jenna's lips.

"You're so sweet." She murmured against your lips. Not pulling too far away, just enough to press your forehead against Jenna's.

"Gosh, you're really good at this..." Her hand moves to cup the back of your neck. 

"At what?"

"This..." She mumbled softly, "You just...make me feel so... I don't really know how to explain it."

"I could marry you off this very feeling."

"You'd marry me just like this?"

"Just like this."

"And what if I say...yes?"

"We...elope?"

"Now that would be a sight." Her fingers caressed the back of Angel's neck. The idea was insane, it sounded like a plot from cheesy rom-coms that she loved so much, "Where would we go? Do you think you could convince me to run off to Vegas?"

"Is it bad that I was also thinking Vegas?"

"Oh my gosh. We're both crazy." She replied with a smile on her lips only widened as she looked at you. The idea of eloping to Vegas was growing more and more appealing by the second to her. Just the two of them, no fuss or big wedding, just them, in Vegas, making a spontaneous decision that was probably completely reckless and irresponsible, "Do you think we should do it? Just...jump into it?"

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"What are we doing? I mean, seriously!" Jenna said, in the passenger seat of your car, trying to speak over the blaring music and the wind entering the car from the windows down.

"Making you my wife." You replied back enthusiastically with a smile as you glanced over at Jenna in the passenger seat before returning your gaze to the road, "I don't know, I like it! Wife. My wife!"

"Your wife." She repeated with a smile as she shook her head.

"My wife, my wife, my wife. Me and my wife." You said as if tasting the sound of the words off of your tongue and liking it.

"My wife, my wife." She repeated after you, basking in the new words as well.

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What better way to have your wedding than to have an Elvis impersonator officiate it in a small chapel in the middle of the night?

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness and celebrate the matrimony of Y/N and Jenna, alright now." The Elvis impersonator began which began to feel like a blur to you and before you knew it...

"I, Jenna, take you, Y/N, to be my lawfully wedded wife. I promise to love, honor, cherish, and respect you, in sickness and in health, in good moments and in bad, till death do us part." 

The words hung in the air, the promise of forever in their commitment.

"I, Y/N, take you, Jenna, to be lawfully wedded wife. I promise to love, honor, cherish, and support you, in health and sickness, in joy and in hardship, till death do us part.

The words from both of them were met with a moment of silence. The vows felt as if they echoed through the small chapel, filling the air with a mix of anticipation and gravity. The Elvis impersonator smiled and said a couple of more things before allowing you to slip the ring onto Jenna's finger. Your touch was firm and gentle, each movement a silent declaration of commitment. Then Jenna slipped a ring onto your finger, the cool metal felt heavy on your finger, a tangible symbol of the promises they had just made.

"By the power not invested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you wife and wife. You may kiss." 

The words hung in the air, each syllable seeming to carry a profound weight, and then...you closed the distance between the two of you, your arms wrapping around Jenna's waist, pulling her closer. And then, your lips met in a kiss, soft and gentle, yet filled with a promise of forever.

The kiss was simple yet profound, a gentle press of lips that sealed the promises they had just made. The chapel's silence was filled with the echo of their commitment... with the knowledge that they were now truly bound together, for better or for worse, for as long as they both lived.

For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them and the soft sound of their breaths mixing together. The kiss was slow and tender, a silent confirmation of the promises they had just spoken, a wordless promise of love and devotion. As their lips parted, Jenna opened her eyes, meeting your gaze, her heart thudding loudly in her chest.

They were, in fact, married. Married on a spontaneous, impulsive, and wonderfully crazy night in Vegas.

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For the rest of the night until early in the morning, the two practically ran around Vegas together happily. After getting a hotel room, the two simply found themselves jumping on the freshly made hotel bed. 

Jenna squealed as she landed on the bed, the soft mattress bouncing beneath her. She couldn't help the laughter that bubbled up from her chest, the sound tinged with both amusement and disbelief at the absurdity of the whole situation.

"We just got married, in Vegas, in a spur-of-the-moment decision, and we're celebrating by jumping on the bed like teenage kids?" She let out another laugh, shaking her head as she jumped, her hair messily tousled from the jumping.

"Live a little! We're all kids at heart!" You replied with a laugh as well, jumping on the bed next to Jenna.

"True, true!" Jenna replied, a grin spreading across her face. The feeling of you jumping alongside her on the bed, laughter mixing in the air, was liberating. 

They were adults, newlyweds even, and yet, in that moment, they were carefree and childish. The bed continued to bounce with their movements, Jenna's giggles growing louder as she playfully flopped back on the mattress. You flopped down next to Jenna, pulling off your tie.

"You look good in a suit, wife," Jenna said as she watched you remove your tie, her eyes drawn to the movement of the thin fabric as it unraveled. The image of her new wife, still in her suit, lying beside her on the bed was oddly appealing. She hadn't taken the moment to realize how good you had looked.

The word 'wife' had an unfamiliar ring to it, but Jenna found she liked the way it rolled off her tongue. She shifted a little closer to you.

"I'm sure you look in everything," You replied with a soft smile, tucking back Jenna's hair behind her ear gently, "And tonight, you look perfect, my wife."

"What a cheesy line, wife." She teased affectionately.

"You must be my weakness, then. Making me say cheesy things to get you to smile. I must be doing something right if you married me."

Jenna pretended to pout at your words, her eyes narrowing as though she was annoyed by the comment, but there was a hint of a grin on her lips, a tell-tale sign that she found your cheesy words endearing, if not endearing, very adorable. She moved a little closer until they were lying side by side on the bed, their bodies snuggled together. 

"I must be weak then. I just married some charming idiot, just because she made me laugh a few times." Her words were playful, her words a soft tease. She reached for your hand, interlocking their fingers and bringing it up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of your knuckles. The simple gesture was both endearing and affectionate, a subtle reminder that despite the impulsiveness of their marriage, there was a layer of genuine connection between the two of you.

"Well... I'll take care of you. Treat you good. Right, even. Better than. I promise." You replied in a soft and genuine tone, earning a soft laugh from Jenna. The idea that she needed to be 'taken care of' seemed laughable—she was a strong, independent woman, But the way you said it, with such sincerity and devotion, touched her. She returned the gaze, her eyes softening as she looked into your eyes. The intimacy between them was almost palpable, the air thick with a mix of adoration and vulnerability.

"I promise that I'll always be gentle, never harsh. Never put a hand in a fight. We will have disagreements, not fights. I'll always listen and understand your side before I ever counter against it. I know that I don't know you well enough to know if you like being taken care of but I don't mean it in the way you think. I mean it in the way where your soul and heart have needs that I want to provide, that I will provide." Your hand gently caresses Jenna's as well.

"You're too good to be real, you know that?" She mumbled softly as she thought out your words.

"I promise to keep you safe and make you always feel safe around me. I promise to hold and comfort you whenever you need it. AS well as reassure you about anything or anyone that you are beginning to feel insecure about." Your forehead pressed against her as you spoke in a soft and genuine tone.

The reassurances, the care, and the concern...it was all so new, so strange, yet it felt right. It felt safe, like something she wanted to hold onto.

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A/N: Hey lovelies! Thank you so much for reading! If you're new, feel free to look at my other works. I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if I should add any warnings to this. Love you all, bye!

[personnage-neutre]

Free to Borrow Books about Tintin and Hergé

The only requirement is to make an Internet Archive account. (If you already have an account, check if it was compromised in the recent hack and change your password.) Note that this is in no way a comprehensive list of works or an ideal Tintinology primer, just the books that have been made available on the archive, which also means that it contains everything from picture books to highly academic texts. However, I've marked with a * the books I think are best to start with.

Includes works in both English and French (plus a few in Spanish). Please don't hesitate to ask if you have questions!

General reference

Tintin and the world of Hergé Benoît Peeters, 1989*

Tintin, Hergé and his creation Harry Thompson, 1991

Tintin: The Complete Companion Michael Farr, 2001*

The Pocket Essential Tintin (1st ed.) / (2nd ed.) Jean-Marc & Randy Lofficier, 2002 / 2007

Les mystères du Lotus Bleu Pierre Fresnault-Desruelle, 2006

Captain Haddock Thompson and Thomson Professor Calculus Rastapopoulos (FR) Tchang (FR) Michael Farr, 2007

Figurines Tintin: La Collection Officielle Daniel Couvreur, Frédéric Soumois, & Dominique Maricq, 2012-2015

Hergé Dada magazine, 2016

Catalogues

Hergé, 1922-1932 : les debuts d'un illustrateur ed. Benoît Peeters, 1987

Hergé dessinateur ed. Pierre Sterckx & Benoît Peeters, 1988

The adventures of Tintin at sea Yves Horeau, 2004

Musée Hergé / Tintin : the art of Hergé Michel Daubert, 2013*

L'univers du createur de Tintin Artcurial, 2023

Biography

Hergé : portrait biographique Thierry Smolderen & Pierre Sterckx, 1988

Entretiens avec Hergé / Conversations with Hergé (excerpts) Numa Sadoul, 1989*

Hergé / Hergé: The Man Who Created Tintin (abridged translation) Pierre Assouline, 1996

Les Aventures d'Hergé / The Adventures of Hergé Jean-Luc Fromental, José-Louis Bocquet, & Stanislas, 1999

Hergé, fils de Tintin / Hergé, son of Tintin Benoît Peeters, 2002

The adventures of Hergé, creator of Tintin Michael Farr, 2007

Hergé: lignes de vie Philippe Goddin, 2007

Analysis

Le Monde de Tintin Pol Vandromme, 1959

Tintin chez le psychanalyste Serge Tisseron, 1985

Hergé écrivain Jan Baetens, 1989

L’archipel Tintin A. Algoud, J.-M. Apostolidès, D. Cerbelaud, B. Peeters, P. Sterckx, 2003

Tintin and the secret of literature Tom McCarthy, 2008

Les Secrets d'Hergé dessinateur Bruno Cassiers, 2022

Fiction & Novelizations

Ma vie de chien Ariane Valadié, 1994

Tintin in the new world / Tintin en el nuevo mundo François Tuten, 1996

La vie cachée de Tintin Henri Roanne-Rosenblatt, 2005

Petit dictionnaire énervé de Tintin Albert Algoud, 2010

The Adventures of Tintin: a novel / Les Aventures de Tintin: le roman du film / Las aventuras de Tintín Alex Irvine, 2011

The adventures of Tintin : the chapter book (print disability borrow only) / Les aventures de Tintin: l'album du film Stephanie Peters, 2011

Tintin's daring escape / Les évadés du Karaboudjan / Fuga temeraria Danger at sea / Peligro en el mar The mystery of the missing wallets Kirsten Mayer, 2011

Trivia

Êtes-vous tintinologue? François Hébert, 1983

Tintin and Snowy Big Activity Book Guy Harvey & Simon Beecroft, 2006

[noblesandsstories]

Venomous Ties

Chapter 1- Did it's people want too much too?

Alpha Albert Wesker x AFAB!Reader

-> ANGST; Omegaverse; I don’t know how old Wesker is in the games, but I’m assuming old enough for this to be labeled “Older Man, Younger Woman”; Age gap; Domestic abuse; Allusions to physical abuse; This get’s dark, especially these first two chapters; Suicidal ideation/thoughts; Toxic, controlling, and abusive stepfather; Neglectful mother; the whole nine yards; Some canon has been manipulated, but it's meant to work with the lore I know about.

AN: Goodness gracious. I haven't edited this, it's barely proofread. This is such an odd project for me to feel passionate about, but nonetheless I do. PLEASE adhere to the tags. This fic starts dark and it gets darker. Take care of yourselves my friends. The world is very cold right now.

Title is from "Nobody" by Mitski

Border made by @sweetmelodygraphics

You opened the door only wide enough to let you slip inside. You were early to the meeting and were not surprised to see only two people there. Both were blond, one being slightly shorter. His coat was a bit more rumpled, and his hair was shaggier. The taller one wore sunglasses, his hair was perfectly slicked back, and his coat was perfectly straightening and clean. They turned to look at you, their faces dropping into scowls.

Better get this over with.

“I’m here to write notes of the meeting for Dr. Edington.” You move towards one of the seats in the back. No point in sitting front and center.

“Why can’t he be here himself? He’s rather needed for this,” the one without glasses snipped.

They had every right to be upset, mad even. Bruno had been the main reason this meeting was called and now he sends some random person in to just take notes on his behalf. You’d be pissed too. But you can’t say that.

“I’m sorry, sir. He didn’t tell me where he went, just to take notes.” At this you sat down, opening your notebook to the next clear page.

“He left?” The man’s voice was almost shrill. You could feel the heat of the other man’s gaze through his glasses. It was time to prepare for the worst.

“Yes, sir.”

The man next to him finally spoke. “We can’t let just anyone sit in.”

“I understand.” You flipped your notebook closed. You’d probably get kicked out, then you could figure your way back to Bruno’s office. He was the one who was going to have to answer for this. No skin off your back. Maybe a bruise on the arm, but not much more. “I apologize that there’s not more I can tell you.”

You look up to find that the man with the sunglasses standing above you. He was possibly the most intimidating person you’ve ever seen. Tall and bulky, but able to move silently with a face and voice that gave away nothing of how he was feeling.

“Identify yourself.”

You give him your first name, not knowing if Bruno would appreciate telling them your last. “Dr. Edington keeps me as a record keeper of sorts. I organize his files, transcribe his notes during his lab sessions, and other tasks like that if needed.”

He put a packet in front of you on the table.

“Then perhaps you can answer the questions we have pertaining to this. Specifically, why it’s written in gibberish?”

You look down and with a few words knew exactly what the problem was. You flip it over to read the code on the back to confirm your suspicions.

“It seems he gave you the coded report.”

“Coded?”

“Yes, sir. I write the notes for the lab session, he writes it in official terms and in code, and when he needs to send a lab report out, I translate it back.” You flip open the notebook again, beginning to go through word by word.

“Do you know it off the top of your head?”

“Yes sir, most of it. Since it’s a shorter one, I can probably get what I can done in 30 minutes.”

One singular eyebrow raised at your statement. “If you can’t complete all of it?”

“It’s a book code, sir. I can go back to the office and pick out what I don’t recall. That might take slightly longer but not by much.”

He only gave a slight tilt of the head in response, standing quietly above you. The other man spoke up.

“This is highly classified information that we are just handing to a random woman, we can’t just give it to her.”

“Edington has already been giving her plenty to work with and she saves us one conversation with him.”

There was more silence as the men hovered, until another person in a lab coat walked in, a few more behind them. The man in the sunglasses turned to them. “This meeting is cancelled for today. Continue your projects as normal and we will get back to you for rescheduling.” The others didn’t hesitate before leaving, not glancing past the man in the sunglasses once. He turned back to you.

“I’ll be by Edington’s office in an hour and a half to collect that report. Be expecting me.”

You grabbed everything off the table and stood. “Of course, sir, I’ll have it done.” You gave a quick nod and “Have a good afternoon” to the other man before slipping out the door.

It didn’t take you as long to get back to Bruno’s office. He was still gone, though he would probably be gone for a while.

You mulled over what candle you wanted to use as you pulled out the books for the code, deciding on a weaker clean scent. Faint enough that, hopefully, by the time the man with the glasses arrived the smell would be gone, but enough to get rid of the sterile smell of the environment. On some level, you understood the need for a lab full of serious science projects to not stink of the various smells that people exude, especially to avoid hormonal nonsense. But it still was harsh on the nose, and you weren’t an official employee anyways. You could feign innocence, and hope that they wouldn’t be too harsh. Or would at least make whatever they did to punish people around here quick.

You got it done easily, with nearly an hour to spare. You blew out the candle and turned on the fan, before picking up the book you were working on. It was a book covering the of basics of virology that Bruno kept. It was dull but kept interest while you waited for…. Anything.

Bruno to return, probably mad at something. That man from this morning, picking up the translated copy. Your mom, whisking you to a new city. As if.

The door opened. It was the second option, as the man walked in. You glanced at the clock on the wall. Early by 40 minutes.

“Enjoying yourself?” He hums, walking into the office.

“Taking in the quiet,” you say, putting the book down and moving over to the desk. “If I may, what’s your name?”

He stilled, before answering “Wesker.”

“Spelt how it sounds?”

He nodded, and you wrote down “Wesker Copy” on the back of the notes.

“Could you not type and print it?”

“I don’t have access to the system, and I don’t know where the printer room is, apologies.”

He takes it, flipping through the pages. “This will work for now. Tell your stepfather-”

You felt like your head was shoved underwater, white noise draining out the rest of his words. Before you could stop yourself, you blurted out “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

“Pardon?”

“He… he doesn’t like it when people call him that.”

A beat of silence went by. Then he slowly replied, “Understood.”

“Sorry, didn’t meant to take up your time. I’m sure you have work to get back to.”

“I do indeed. I’ll be seeing you.”

You really hoped not but kept that to yourself. “Have a good day, sir.”

He lingered for just a moment before slipping out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruno wasn’t happy when he appeared later. He barely said anything except that you were leaving when he entered the office and was mute in the car. Didn’t ask about how the meeting went or what his coworkers said. He didn’t even take the time to list all of the reasons you shouldn’t have been born. Just silent. It honestly wasn’t that bad, except the sour smell of his fury permeated the air. Like the quiet before a volcan erupts.

And erupt it did.

The lamp got it as he sent it flying across the living room when you walked in. Your mom, who seemed like she was going to greet you at the door, vacated the premises promptly. You don’t blame her. You would too if you could. Unfortunately, mercy died long ago.

“What the hell did you say to him, you little snake?” He growled.

The back of your mind tingled, warning you to flee, but you knew better. Running from predators never worked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you reply, keeping your voice neutral and calm. “He asked about the file you sent him, I told him you must have accidentally sent a coded one, and translated it for him as he asked.”

“Bullshit,” he barked. “I met Wesker in the hallway on my way back and now I have him up my ass about irresponsibility and not doing my damn job. So, what. Did. You. Say?”

“I told you, nothing more than that.” You knew your plea was useless, you knew. But silence was worse.

“I’m the alpha of this household, you are to cater to me. And if you think after today, you’ll be fed and cared for, think again. Go to your room and stay there. I’ll tell you when you can leave.”

It’s a more favorable punishment. You don’t argue, don’t whimper, don’t cry. You slink away, briefly meeting your mom’s gaze from where she stands at the kitchen door before she looks down and turns back to whatever she was cooking. And you return to your march to your exile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The next few days went as they usually do. Taking your pills in the morning to the sound of Bruno yelling at your mom about breakfast or the state of the house or simply because he was mad.

He dragged you to his job, made you do a bunch of work you’re pretty sure was his responsibility anyways, and kept to the status quo. Until you pissed him off royally.

You thought you had written all the data down correctly during one of his lab sessions. Turns out you missed something, because he was furious. Going on about how your mistake cost him reputation with a coworker and so on and so forth. He was never clear when he yelled about something, and it used to frustrate you to no end. (Now it’s normal. And for some reason that thought stings.)

He stormed out around 3 in the afternoon.

Now it was 7 at night and the building was empty.

This isn’t new. He’s done this once before. That time you walked the 5 hour walk back only to find the doors locked and no one up, resulting in you sneaking into the backyard and sleeping in one of the lawn chairs.

This time you decided to cut your losses and stay in the labs. If you were going to sleep somewhere uncomfortable, you’ll save yourself the walk and stay where there is heating.

You made your way to the break room cautiously, hoping not to set off any form of security. Though now that you think about it, at least in jail they feed you. You chuckled to yourself as you walked up to the door, noticing the lights on. There was the smell of something in the air, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. You opened the door as silently as possible, poking your head in…

To find Wesker staring at you.

“Now what are you doing here this late?” He sounded almost amused at seeing you. “Have you decided to make a hole here, little mouse?”

“My ride forgot me,” you tried to add a lighthearted flare to your words to keep the mood light, taking in the room. It was empty except for you and Wesker who was eating, what you assume, leftovers out of a container. He wasn’t wearing his lab coat, instead just the usual button up and pants number that most of the people around here wore, though he lacked a tie.

One eyebrow raised at your answer. “Do you not have a way home?”

“I’ll live.” You began to rummage around the cabinets hoping for anything that could help through the night.

“You’re not convincing me.” He came up behind you, reaching up, opening the upper cabinet, and pulling out something, and putting a bar in your hand. “Can’t have the cornerstone of Edington’s work starving, now, can we?”

“I’m not doing that much. He does research, I write down what he tells me to.” It took some prying to open the package.

“Most of this job is writing things down.” His face remains neutral, almost impossible to read. It’s a struggle trying to decide if it’s terrifying or not. “If he can’t do that without assistance, he needs to consider other careers.”

“Probably an understatement,” you mumble, not paying attention, just biting into the bar. Was it the best thing you’ve ever eaten? No. But it was edible and that was good enough.

“What makes you say that?”

You froze. It felt like you were a deer on the other side of a hunter’s rifle. One wrong move and it was all over. Sure, Wesker seemed like he held as much disdain for Bruno that you did, but if word got back to him, it was a world of misery for you.

The room was silent for a few minutes before he just hummed, “Interesting.”

“What?” you croaked.

“Don’t worry about it. What’s your education level?”

You hesitated. “Graduated Raccoon City High a few years ago.”

“College?”

“I want to go, but Bruno won’t have it. Says it’ll be a waste of money.”

“Yet you do a majority of his work?”

This whole conversation felt like a trap. You look away and focus on the bar, eating it as slow as possible, hoping to buy some time. And wishing you had something to drink. Maybe the fridge has some waters stocked? They’re not for you though.

They’re for the people doing important things with their lives. People with homes. Maybe pets. Probably loving family and friends who’s lives haven’t been so fucked up that they might as well be… dead. No one would notice you missing. No one would care or weep. Sure, your mom might tear up, but if anything, your dead might cause Bruno to chill out.

Fingers snapping in front of your face brings you back to the room, a bottle of water now sitting in front of you.

“There you are, I thought I lost you,” he hums.

Your cheeks flushed. “Sorry, I think I’m just a bit tired. I’ll take this and go back to Bruno’s office.”

“Last I recall, he doesn’t own a couch or anything of that nature.”

“There’s an armchair, I’ve napped in it a few times.”

He shakes his head. “This lab is connected to a manor with plenty of rooms to spare, I’ll escort you to one.”

“There’s no need, I’m sure they’re for something important.”

He huffs a laugh while grabbing his coat. “Hardly, it remains mostly empty, unless Spencer has guests to attend to.”

“Will he not-”

“He’s away and leaves me to look after it. Any mess you leave behind the maids will tend to.” He stood expectantly by the door. You got the hint, grabbing the bottle of water.

You thought the lab was one of the most confusing places you had ever gone through, but after a minute or two of walking through the mansion you quicky changed your mind. Between the winding halls and the turns and staircases, by the time he opened the door to a room, you were convinced you’d never get out.

You stepped in to one of the most lavish and ornate rooms you had ever seen. A large four poster bed sat in the middle of the room, a giant elegant wardrobe to the side, and a desk up by a window. There was a door off to the side.

“That leads to the en suite bathroom. Anything else?”

“Do you have a list of directions out?”

He laughed. It was weird, this man who hardly showed any emotion laughing so suddenly. It was almost off putting. But it was the first laugh you had heard in a long time, and something made it feel special.

“I’ll get you in the morning. I’m sure there will be things to talk about.”

Not foreboding at all.

“Goodnight, Doctor Wesker.”

“Goodnight my dear.”