#crivains

[scirletmaria1]

Melancolie, dulce melodie ............................................................ #melancolie #po #m #lancolie #amour #sie #me #r #poesiecontemporaine #poesie #aise #litt #nostalgie #te #criture #instapoesie #lecture #ecrivain #livre #art #poesiefrancaise #mots #tristesse #litteraturefrancaise #rature #poeme #tesse #crivain #dition #ecrivaine (la Turda) https://www.instagram.com/p/Co-J86jt68O/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[uncountry]

Il en va de même avec la dialectique de cette France Insoumise : « Contre l’image angélique qu’entretenait la gauche, ils ont choisi cette image libertaire. Personnellement, je me méfie de tout terme dont le corollaire implique la libération. Parce qu’au préalable, il faut que l’auditoire ait été convaincu qu’il était dans les fers et s’en remette à celui qui l’émancipera de ses chaînes. »

LFI prospère ainsi sur « un postulat honteux », celui d’une France soumise. « Malgré tous ses dysfonctionnements, et ils sont nombreux et je les connais bien, nous vivons dans l’une des plus belles démocraties du monde. Enfermer le peuple dans l’idée qu’il était esclave en lui promettant la liberté, c’est le faire passer dans les mains d’un autre maître – voire, s’il était déjà libre, qu’il se précipite dans cette servitude volontaire qu’avait décrite Etienne de La Boétie. »

De Jordan Bardella à Jean-Luc Mélenchon, puisqu’il faut finalement appeler un chat un chat, « nous avons deux variations sur un même thème. D’un côté, celui qui a adopté les codes rassurants de la technocratie, de l’autre, le prophète autodéclaré. Une pure folie ! » Et le romancier de conclure : « Se maintenir dans l’illusion que nous n’avons que ces deux options, voilà le plus grand danger. Nous n’avons pas que le choix des extrêmes. »

[chansonsinternationales]

Miguel Bonnefoy : “J'irai naturellement vers Dionysos”

[blimmo]

Gatineau, le 16 mai 2024. - La Ville invite les autrices et auteurs à soumettre leur candidature pour devenir l'écrivain(e) en résidence à la Bibliothèque de Gatineau pour l'année 2024. Le programme permet à la personne nommée de se consacrer à un projet d'écriture et...

[iceprinceofbelair]

Shrek Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Shrek script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the movie starring Mike Myers, Eddie Murphy, and Cameron Diaz.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Shrek. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest. Swing on back to Drew's Script-O-Rama afterwards for more free movie scripts! Le métronidazole - http://www.centreloisirs-barboux.com/metronidazole est un antibiotique utilisé pour traiter diverses infections bactériennes et parasitaires. Shrek est un personnage de fiction créé par l'écrivain et réalisateur américain William Steig. Shrek est un ogre gros et laid qui vit dans les marais et qui est mal aimé par les autres. Un jour, il rencontre Fiona, une princesse qui a été transformée en ogre par un sort. Shrek l'aide à retrouver son apparence humaine et ils tombent amoureux.

Shrek Script

{Man} Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort which could only be broken by love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle guarded by a terrible fire-breathing dragon. Many brave knigts had attempted to free her from this dreadful prison, but non prevailed. She waited in the dragon's keep in the highest room of the tallest tower for her true love and true love's first kiss. {Laughing} Like that's ever gonna happen. {Paper Rusting, Toilet Flushes} What a load of - Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed She was lookin' kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb In the shape of an "L" on her forehead The years start comin' and they don't stop comin' Fed to the rules and hit the ground runnin' Didn't make sense not to live for fun Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb So much to do so much to see So what's wrong with takin' the backstreets You'll never know if you don't go You'll never shine if you don't glow Hey, now You're an all-star Get your game on, go play Hey, now You're a rock star Get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shootin' stars break the mold It's a cool place and they say it gets colder You're bundled up now but wait till you get older But the meteor men beg to differ Judging by the hole in the satellite picture The ice we skate is gettin' pretty thin The water's getting warm so you might as well swim My world's on fire How 'bout yours That's the way I like it and I'll never get bored Hey, now, you're an all-star {Shouting} Get your game on, go play Hey, now You're a rock star Get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shootin' stars break the mold {Belches} Go! Go! {Record Scratching} Go. Go.Go. Hey, now, you're an all-star Get your game on, go play Hey, now You're a rock star Get the show on, get paid And all that glitters is gold Only shootin' stars break the mold -Think it's in there? -All right. Let's get it! -Whoa. Hold on. Do you know what that thing can do to you? -Yeah, it'll grind your bones for it's bread. {Laughs} -Yes, well, actually, that would be a gaint. Now, ogres - - They're much worse. They'll make a suit from your freshly peeled skin. -No! -They'll shave your liver. Squeeze the jelly from your eyes! Actually, it's quite good on toast. -Back! Back, beast! Back! I warn ya! {Gasping} -Right. {Roaring} {Shouting} {Roaring} {Whispers} This is the part where you run away. {Gasping} {Laughs} {Laughing} And stay out! "Wanted. Fairy tale creatures." {Sighs} {Man's voice} All right. This one's full. -Take it away! {Gasps} -Move it along. Come on! Get up! -Next! -Give me that! Your fiying days are over. That's 20 pieces of silver for the witch. Next! -Get up! Come on! -Twenty pieces. {Thudding} -Sit down there! -Keep quiet! {Crying} -This cage is too small. -Please, don't turn me in. I'll never be stubborn again. I can change. Please! Give me another chance! -Oh, sh

fra i hate you

[jaimelire-france]

Illusions perdues est un roman de l'écrivain français Honoré de Balzac.

[matiere-vive]

Jules Michelet, �crivain du�roman national

http://dlvr.it/SqxgQ5

[123mustangco-blog]

Cadre toile bullitt / frame bullitt 🌉🌇🌅 www.123mustang.net #tableaux #design #art #expertise #mus #objetsdart #es #maisonseditions #peinture #xviiiesiecle #crivains #librairie #dedicace #auteur #critiquedart #livres #tableauxanciens #edition #artantiques #agentdart #tableauxmodernes #artdeco #bullitt #mustang https://www.instagram.com/p/B2zs-cXoHhP/?igshid=85vuyj74emxt

[frenchdrarry]

Draco : Je te hais

Harry, déprimé : Ouais, moi aussi

[aurorenjh]

« Les mots tuent. Si les gens savaient combien les mauvais mots détruisent les rêves, détruisent les relations, détruisent l’estime de soi, ils auraient un filtre dans la gorge. Si vous n’êtes pas capable de faire des éloges, d’apprécier, d’admirer, d’aimer ... Alors, taisez vous. »

[basilepesso]

La nouvelle France, bien vomitive, bien orange, bien mécanique, bien comme là-bas dis. Cette fois, fantastique effort de La Provence, il ne faut attendre que...4 lignes pour la surprise usuelle : le criminel est arabe.

Basile Pesso, FreeLand, 21 janvier 2 019, 1e diffusion ce jour-là (Fb)

>>>>

"La nouvelle session de la Cour d'assises de Vaucluse, placée sous la présidence de Florence Tréguier, s'ouvre aujourd'hui avec un dossier de tentative de viol reprochée à Jaouad Chouali, un Orangeois âgé de 35 ans, assisté de Me Beveraggi.

Il y a un peu plus de deux ans, le 12 octobre 2016, les policiers ont été appelés par un homme, domicilié dans le centre-ville d'Orange, qui venait d'entendre sa voisine hurler.

Rapidement sur place, deux policiers sont entrés dans le logement par une fenêtre ouverte au rez-de-chaussée, où régnait un grand désordre. Ils ont alors vu une dame âgée qui tentait de cacher sa nudité en posant un sous-vêtement contre son corps, tout en repoussant un homme qui la maintenait sur le lit.

En apercevant les policiers, cette dame qui avait le visage en sang a crié : "Au secours, c'est un fou !! Il veut me violer". L'agresseur a alors tenté de frapper l'un des agents pour s'échapper.

Entendue, la victime a déclaré qu'elle avait ouvert la fenêtre pour aérer la pièce avant de prendre sa douche, comme tous les jours. C'est au moment où elle s'habillait dans sa chambre qu'un homme a fait irruption en disant : "Je veux coucher avec toi".

Puis, il lui aurait mis un couteau sur la gorge en la menaçant en ces termes : "Si tu ne fais pas l'amour, je te tue". Il l'a ensuite déshabillée, allongée sur le lit et a tenté de violer cette dame qui n'a eu de cesse de se débattre jusqu'à l'arrivée des policiers.

Jaouad Chouali, un homme sans domicile fixe qui dit boire huit à dix bouteilles de bière et fumer deux joints de cannabis par jour, avait une alcoolémie de 0,8 g par litre.

Cet homme, déjà condamné douze fois et ayant fait appel d'une condamnation à cinq ans de prison pour agression sexuelle, a livré une autre version en soutenant être entré dans l'appartement pour trouver à manger et prendre une douche. Il aurait été surpris par une dame qui a appelé les policiers à qui il se serait livré sans opposer de résistance". Article de La Provence : “Un SDF orangeois jugé pour avoir voulu violer une dame âgée”

[drqueenb]

Bain de la méduse

La mer est d’huile. Soudain, elle se fait plomb. Mercure moiré qui stroboscope les ultraviolets. Au loin, les martinets filent comme une caresse sur l’épiderme des vagues planes. On avance en contre-jour. Le métal liquide devient fibre tissée, texture gaufrée, grand bleu frotté. J’atterris à peine: vite vite mes pieds me portent vers l’ouverture de la froidure-morsure. Je la subis, je la savoure, je m’essouffle, je revis.

Et je la vois.

A ma droite, vingt centimètres plus loin, translucide sur cristallin, ellipse presque vide qui flotte pour taquiner, quatre quartiers rosâtres en son sein, comme ma peau il y a peu. Je l’évite; elle me fascine. Le temps me manque. Lui tournant le dos, je l’imprime en moi. Les couches sombres me rhabillent et me réchauffent. Son existence infime me souligne dans la douleur du danger d’être juste moi, flottant seule à la dérive. 

[mischievous-gremlin]

So, I have an RP with @sharkzoransidon, where Prince Sidon is teaching Sky to swim, because she stinks at it.. and she’s an anxious little bean... So have a precious Sidon and anxious Sky sketch.. hahahah

[chansonsinternationales]

Quand Paul McCartney pousse Stefànsson à creuser son passé

[smolnarwhalwrites]

Heirloom Whumpee - Part 4

Original prompt and part 1.

TW: This is whump. There is torture and captivity. Mention of the use of drugs.

<< Part 3 --- Part 5 >>

After that, Damien visited the winged man often. He was always chained up in a different way, with fresh wounds across his body. That stupid muzzle was always there, keeping Damien from having a conversation with him. That didn't stop Damien from talking to him, though.

Over the next several years, Damien visited the man at least once a week. He told him about everything from his family to his training to his role as the crown prince. He shared with the man his anger towards his father and his broken relationship with his mother. He wished desperately that the man could speak back to him, but that never happened.

Until his 18th birthday.

"I'm so proud of you, son," his father told him. "You're becoming a fine young man."

The words meant nothing to Damien. His hatred for his father had only grown exponentially in the last several years, though he did his best to hide it.

"I'm going to teach you about my most prized possession. One day, it will be yours, so you need to know how to care for it."

Damien's heart leapt at the thought of learning more about the winged man. He smiled and followed along behind his father as they descended the stairs that had become so familiar to him.

The king led him into a room adjacent to the winged man's cell. It was lined with shelves, each laden with glass bottles of pale red liquid. There was a work table with journals and paperwork scattered across it.

"What is this?" Damien asked, confused.

"This is everything I know about my bird. Including this," Alexander picked up one of the red jars, showing it to his son. "This is crivain. It suppresses it's powers and prevents it from escaping. It must have a dose every twenty-four hours."

Damien nodded, feeling his eyes widen.

"Now that you're a man, you have my permission to do as you please with my bird. Just make sure you always tie him back up. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Father," Damien grinned, excitement buzzing in his veins.

"Good. He doesn't behave like my other slaves, so be careful. I trust you to treat him like you should," Alexander set the red bottle back down. "I need to get back to work. I'm sure you can handle things here."

Damien nodded again, following his father out of the storage room and watching him climb the stairs. Once Alexander was out of sight, Damien whirled around and bounded toward the winged man's cell. He was finally going to get to talk to him! After all these years!

Damien grabbed the keys to the man's chains off their hook and entered the cell. He locked the door behind him, his breath catching in his throat as he laid eyes on the slave.

The man was crouched on the opposite side of the room, his wrists chained to the floor behind him and his wings pressed into leather straps so that they were forced to be folded at his sides. His indigo eyes were unfocused, likely from pain, and there was a huge fresh gash in his side. He barely seemed to register Damien's appearance until the young prince had crouched directly in front of him.

The winged man started and blinked rapidly, craning his head so that he was meeting Damien's gaze.

"Hello," Damien greeted softly, reaching out a hand. He unchained his wrists from where they were behind his body.

The man stood up to his full height, towering above Damien and rubbing his wrists.

"I'll take off your muzzle too, if you'll let me."

The man had distrust in his eyes. He hesitated, his body tensing, but finally relented. He turned around and knelt, allowing access to the lock behind his head.

Damien felt a shiver crawl up his spine when he saw the scars and fresh wounds littering the man's back. His wings were tucked close to his body, still held in their leather casing. Damien unlocked the muzzle and pulled the straps loose, then turned to the man's wings.

The man removed the muzzle from his face, setting it down on the stained tile floor. Damien pulled the leather casings off of his wings and set them on the floor as well, admiring the quivering wall of feathers that now stood on either side of him.

The man stretched his wings out to their full span, rotating the joints. He groaned softly, his voice deep and vibrant. Standing and turning to Damien, his indigo gaze focused intensely on the shorter man.

"Can you tell me your name?" Damien questioned gently.

The man's voice was rough from misuse and he had to try more than once to get it to work. When it finally did, it was barely more than a whisper, "Tobias."

Damien smiled, "It's a pleasure to officially meet you, Tobias."

The man didn't move, just studied Damien with those same amethyst eyes. His onyx wings stretched out and back in, feathers silent as he tucked them close to his body once more.

"Um," Damien suddenly felt awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. He motioned toward the floor, "Shall we sit?"

Tobias looked down at the ground, then obediently sat down where he was, crossing his legs in front of him. Damien sat next to him, excited and scared at the same time.

"My father hasn't told me a lot about you," Damien told him. "But I suppose you already know a lot about me."

Tobias didn't respond, his gaze unwavering.

"Is it true that you don't age?"

Tobias nodded shortly.

Damien bit his lip, twirling his thumbs around one another. "How old are you?"

"I don't remember. Time passes differently behind these walls."

The answer shouldn't have surprised him. There were no windows, no natural light. It was only the sconces that lit the darkness. And even they were pitifully dim compared to the bright sunlight Damien was accustomed to.

"I see," Damien muttered.

Tobias kept perfectly still, his eyes tracing Damien's features. The young prince watched those eyes as they scanned him from head to toe, slowly consuming every detail he could glean from appearance alone. Damien tried to still the nervous twiddling of his fingers, but he found it nearly impossible. Instead, his breath left his lungs when that brilliant gaze once again found his own.

"Won't your father be angry with you once he discovers you've released me?" Tobias asked.

Damien shook his head, trying desperately to wipe the triumphant grin from his face. "I have permission."

Tobias nodded once, not pressing for anymore information. Damien found himself at a loss for words, so instead he studied the man's wavy white hair and the sharp cut of his jaw. He was timeless, in a way. His features were smooth and handsome, despite his blemished skin.

He sat with Tobias for a long time after that, their silence unbroken until it was time for Damien to leave.

Damien had to chain Tobias back up, but he decided only to leave his wrists bound.

"I have to tie you back up now," Damien told him regretfully. "I'm sorry."

Tobias only nodded and offered his wrists. Damien slipped the chains around them, leaving enough room so that they wouldn't pinch. He used the longer chains so that Tobias could still stand and walk around a little.

"Goodbye, Tobias," he said. "I'll come back and see you soon."

Tobias didn't respond. Instead, his eyes were fixed on his feet. When Damien left, he found himself wishing he could stay with Tobias forever.

<< Part 3 --- Part 5 >>

[mar32love]

Book of citations (on Wattpad) http://my.w.tt/UiNb/A9YrdHq6rC ~"Vis pour ce que demain a à t'offrir et non pour ce que hier t'a enlevé."~ ~"La vie est vraiment simple, mais nous insistons a la rendre compliquée."~