#for now. i will fund eiffel images.

[commsroom]

I just want to say that all your eiffera commissions are carrying the eiffera fans and w359 fans in general I imagine. So much lovely art that we can all enjoy because of you (and the artists obv). Thank you, I want you to know that people appreciate this so much!!

oh, thank you!! of course, all of the credit here belongs to the artists; i've been lucky enough to find some very kind and talented people to work with. it's a little embarrassing how much i prioritize this, but seeing my favorite characters drawn by some of my favorite artists is the best motivator i have right now, and it's nice that it's something i can share with other people. ♡

[crookedteethed]

18+ -mdni

ᥫ᭡. eiffel tower me, please.

pairing: rafe x kook!jj x fem! reader

warnings: smut (pinv), language, threesome, oral (m and f receiving), drug usage, a little voyurism (if you squint). porn with little plot (as per usual), dirty talk,

⌞ series masterlist ⌝ ⌞ II ⌝

Rafe's fascination with you took place when he saw you fucking your boyfriend, his best friend, JJ Maybank, in the bushes during a Kook party. 

Rafe had been watching you two all night-- he watched as the both of you couldn't keep your hands off of one another--JJ's hand had squeezed your plump ass every chance it got, while your lips always found a spot on his sunkissed skin to smooch whenever the moment was right--so it wasn't a shocker that Rafe was the one to catch you two sneaking off.

For Rafe, it was disgusting seeing you two being all lovey-dovey and shit, yeah, yeah, yeah, Rafe was happy to see his friend happy and whatnot, but secretly, the boy was envious.

I mean, here Rafe was getting the worst neck by Gums McGee while JJ was getting some of the best piece of ass on Kildare Island. 

It's not like you were a slut or anything--Rafe really hadn't known if you were the best piece of ass on Kildare, but the way your boyfriend talked about your sex life when you weren't around sure made you sound like you were--and Rafe had wanted to know if the legions about you were true--like the time JJ had claimed you wrapped a fruit roll up around his dick and sucked it--or that time JJ said you simply let him cum inside of you--Rafe had wanted that, Rafe wanted that with you, because you were something Rafe couldn't have.

Rafe doesn't know why he'd followed you and JJ out to the bushes-- He'd stopped getting the worst head he'd ever received to be a peeping tom. But Rafe swears his plan wasn't to be a peeping tom; how could Rafe not be a peeping tom when he suddenly sees your bare heart-shaped ass--your mini skirt bunched around your waist--bouncing on JJ's cock, grappling in the bushes. Your slit was so little and displayed for him--it looked like it could barely take the penetration. Your pretty moans serenaded Rafe's ears--leaving him in a trance, like a mermaid's siren. You were alluring; how could Rafe not be a peeping tom?

When Rafe had found himself sprouting a boner, and quickly taking care of it in his car, he knew he was in some pretty deep fucking shit.

"I have a proposition for you." Rafe had told Jay, going nose first into a line coke--the boys had been slumming it up the next day, drinking beer and watching the box all day in Jay's new condo he'd gotten for his 20th birthday. 

Rafe then pushed the coke tray to JJ. "What is it?" he said as he followed in pursuit and did the same as Rafe. 

"I get to fuck y/n for one night, in exchange for my dirt bike." Rafe snorted, causing JJ to laugh. 

"You fucking kidding me?" Jay said, wiping the white powder underneath his nostrils. JJ continued to laugh until he realized that Rafe hadn't cracked one smile, meaning that Rafe Cameron has finally lost his damn marbles.

"You do realize that's the dumbest fucking proposition ever, man? You're supposed to propose some shit that I can't go out and buy myself." Jay said. 

"Last week, you said it yourself!" Rafe rebutted. "You said,' My dirt bike is way cooler than yours' ."

"Dude, that wasn't code for: I want your bike in exchange to fuck my girlfriend."

Rafe had been quiet momentarily, reaching over to JJ for the tray and snorting another line. Rafe had needed to hold his composer because ever since last night, he couldn't get the image of you fucking JJ, and Rafe just needed to see it again, but with his cock barely fitting in your pussy instead.

"Ok, what about this," Rafe said, bringing out his inner businessman. "What if I get to fuck y/n in exchange for my Bently?"

Now Rafe was talking, causing JJ's eyebrow to hitch and ears to perk. 

Let's be honest: JJ's father could fund him the money for a new dirt bike if Jay had wanted one. But a new car? Fuck no. Especially since he'd just gotten a new Porsche this January. 

JJ would be a fool not to take Rafe's new and improved proposition.

"Well, when you throw a Bently in the mix, you have yourself a deal, brother!" JJ had shouted, already getting revved up from the coke (and the idea of seeing his girlfriend taking another guy's cock.). 

"But one thing," JJ continued. "We have to say it's a threesome--make it seem like I'm tryin' to experiment or some shit, because she isn't going to agree to just fucking you alone."

In hindsight, Rafe made a really stupid choice by giving JJ his Bently, but as long as he was able to feel you, he didn't care.

So here you were, standing naked between the two hottest blonds on Kildare Island--supposed to be getting into doggy style to let Rafe Cameron fuck you. At the same time, you suck JJ off, all because your stupidly charming boyfriend wanted to try something new in bed, and you can't say no to him when he uses his puppy dog eyes on you. 

But it's not like you weren't totally against the idea--you'd always wanted to know what it was like fucking Kook royalty, Rafe Cameron--you weren't ashamed to admit that. 

Of course, a couple of lines of coke was snorted to get rid of all of everyone jitters, but that still didn't' help your nervousness.

JJ had done all the talking--since, to your knowledge, he was the one to set this shindig up. And because you were JJ's good girl and didn't know what else to do, you did everything JJ told you to do.

"Good girl, now let Rafe see your pussy, don't be shy, princess," JJ spoke so kindly to you, stroking your head softly as you choked on his cock. 

JJ had been very slowly--but harshly fucking his cock with your throat--ever so often, shoving his length as deep as he could go--until you started to gag--then stilling himself and letting your throat contract--while tears and saliva slid down your face. 

You found yourself obeying Jay's words--arching your back more and pushing your ass out to let Rafe view your sopping wet pussy. 

"Shit." Rafe cursed, his thump finding your fold and pushing it back to view the inside of your cunt. "Jay this all your's?" 

"Ain't she a beaut?" Your boyfriend spoke--talking as if you weren't even here--and pushing his cock further into your mouth.

Your eyes watered as you tried to focus on breathing through your nose, JJ's thick length stretching your esophagus.

You start to feel Rafe's fingers probing at your exposed pussy, spreading your folds and teasing your entrance, sending shivers through your body.

"Damn, she's dripping," Rafe marveled, running his fingers along your slick folds. "You mind if I have a taste, Jay?"

"Be my guest," JJ replied, his voice strained with pleasure. "Our good girl loves to please, don't you, princess?"

You whimpered in agreement around JJ's cock, your hips instinctively pushing back against Rafe's touch. You felt Rafe's hot breath on your sensitive flesh moments before his tongue lapped at your entrance. The new sensation made you moan, the vibrations traveling through JJ's length.

"Fuck, that feels good," JJ groaned, "Do that again to her."

Rafe obliged, swirling his tongue around your swollen clit before plunging it inside you. You cried out again, the sound muffled by JJ's cock. Your whole body was on fire, caught between the two men's ministrations.

JJ's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you bobbed your head. "That's it, take it all," he encouraged.

Meanwhile, Rafe's skilled tongue was rapidly pushing you towards the edge. He alternated between teasing licks and deep thrusts, his strong hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place.

"Fuck, you taste good, sweetheart," Rafe lowly said to you, acknowledging you for the first time as a person, and not like your some dirt bike, and for some reason, you were about to come from this nearly. 

"I think our princess is close," Rafe murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitized flesh, his fingers pushing inside you, to feel your cunt convulse. "Should we let her come, JJ?"

"What do you think, sweetheart?" JJ asked, tilting your chin up to meet his, mascara finally beginning to crack, and run down your cheeks, JJ kissed you on the mouth, because, fuck, did you look hot like this.

Rafe had no right to kiss you ( a deal made before you all started, a deal Rafe should respect because JJ is his best friend). JJ's kiss to your mouth only made Rafe more envious of JJ, and Rafe decided to take out his anger on you, claiming you didn't deserve to come yet.

Rafe's fingers slowed their pace, teasing you mercilessly. You whimpered into JJ's mouth, hips bucking desperately against Rafe's hand.

"Not yet," Rafe growled, his voice rough with desire and a hint of jealousy. "You don't get to come until I say so."

JJ broke the kiss, looking down at you with a mixture of lust and amusement. "Looks like Rafe's feeling a bit possessive, sweetheart. Think you can hold out for us?"

You nodded weakly, trembling with need as Rafe's fingers continued their torturous dance. JJ's hands roamed your body, adding to the overwhelming sensations.

"That's our good girl," JJ purred, nipping at your earlobe. "Show us how well you can behave."

Suddenly, you were feeling Rafe's raw wet mushroom tip poking at your entrance--and fuck, did his cock already feel thicker than JJ's.

Your breath hitched as you felt Rafe's impressive length plunge deep inside your cunt—his hands gripping your hips as he slowly bottomed out inside you.

You gasped at the exquisite stretch, your walls clenching around Rafe's thick cock. He groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he held himself still, giving you time to adjust.

"Fuck, you're tight," Rafe growled, his voice strained with the effort of restraint.

JJ's hands continued their exploration, one sliding up to cup your breast while the other trailed down your stomach. "How does she feel, Rafe? As good as you imagined?"

Rafe responded by slowly withdrawing until just the tip remained inside you, then slamming back in with a powerful thrust that had you crying out in pleasure. JJ swallowed your moans with another deep kiss as Rafe set a punishing pace, each thrust driving you closer to the edge you weren't allowed to cross.

"Please," you whimpered as you and Jay caught your breaths--your body jerking up from Rafe's hard thrust into JJ's mouth, allowing you to breath the same air as him--right when you think you've caught a break--Jay's cock is back in your mouth, while you received backshots from Rafe.

Your mind reeled from the overwhelming sensations as you were filled from both ends. JJ's thick length slid deeper into your throat with each of Rafe's powerful thrusts from behind. You struggled to focus, torn between the dual pleasures.

Rafe's grip on your hips tightened as he pounded into you relentlessly. "Fuck, you're taking us so well," he groaned, his voice husky with desire.

JJ's fingers tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as you sucked him eagerly. "That's it, baby," he encouraged. "Just like that."

The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and muffled moans. You felt your arousal building to a fever pitch, your body trembling on the edge of release.

When Rafe's tip found that spongy spot, you made a deep moan in your body that had affected JJ cock, and he found himself cumming in your mouth and on your face.

You were so fucked out of your brain, though, because of Rafe's thick cock; you hadn't noticed when your boyfriend had came, and then left the room, leaving you and Rafe to chase your highs together.

And because Rafe's cock had felt so good in doggy style--you didn't mind seeing how his cock felt when he switched the position to missionary.  

Rafe flipped you onto your back with surprising ease, never breaking his relentless rhythm. His dark eyes locked onto yours as he drove deeper, your legs wrapping instinctively around his waist. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you.

From this angle, Rafe could see just how small your slit was in comparison to his cock.

"God, you're incredible," Rafe panted, his muscled chest glistening with sweat. His thumb found your sensitive bundle of nerves, circling in time with his thrusts.

You arched into him, coherent thoughts scattering as the pressure built. "Rafe, I'm so close," you gasped, nails raking down his back.

He growled in response, increasing his pace. "Come for me, beautiful. Let me feel you."

With a cry of ecstasy, your release washed over you in waves. Rafe followed moments later, burying himself to the halt inside of you.

And just as Rafe was cumming, he found himself getting lost in the moment and kissing your rosy red glossy lips, and again, because you were so fucked out, you'd let him. 

As the both of you came down from your highs, Rafe lips stayed in motion with yours, his cock still stuffed inside side you--plugging his and your juices in. He shifted slightly, still buried inside you, and you gasped at the sensitivity.

Your body trembled with aftershocks as Rafe's lips moved languidly against yours. The kiss was rough, passionate, yet tender - so different from your boyfriend's soft demeanor. You found yourself melting into it, savoring the unexpected intimacy.

The kiss between you and Rafe could've lasted forever- if only your boyfriend hadn't walked in, asking his best friend why he was kissing his girlfriend, the last person Rafe should be kissing.

[itsallyscorner]

so, I was watching the video that came out today and I was thinking about a age gap seb x reader around his friends like Jessica or maybe chace? And they're just hanging out and they both have this lovesick look on their faces and when she leaves the room for some reason they don't waste any time addressing how in love she is with him, and sebs glad bc they were kinda wary of her at first?

Hiyaaa babes! This is my first request so woohoo🥳 Since you mentioned the video, I literally thought of the pictures that were released while they were filming 355, and now I can’t get the image of Seb in Paris because holy shit he looked good. So I’m gonna be using Jessica❤️

- This came out so long, I’m a sucker for background info and can’t get past writing a story without one💀 Enjoy!💜

💌.

Lovesick

You and Sebastian were unexpected. Literally the chances of you guys getting together were so off and you guys were at different times of your lives. He was in his late 30s, already living most of his life as a successful actor. While you were in your early 20s still in college working on your doctoral degree to become a Pharmacist (It was the only major I could think of atm because it’s the one I’m planing on lol.) You guys met at the cafe near your campus. You always went there every morning and would spot him drinking his morning coffee with his nose stuck in a new script he was reading. You two would sneak glances at each other, admiring each other from afar. Until one day when the cafe was fairly packed and you needed a place to sit. You spotted his familiar face and asked him if you could sit in the seat across from him. Obviously he agreed and you guys talked, getting to know each other the whole time. When it was time for you to leave for classes, you guys exchanged numbers and kept in touch.

Which brings us to today. You and Sebastian have been going strong for about a year now and were approaching your second year together. Though you two are as happy as can be and are still in the honeymoon phase (even after a year), the first few months of the relationship were quite rough. There was an obvious age gap between you two, it didn’t bother you two as much, but the public didn’t react too nicely about it. Your parents weren’t too fond of the idea of you dating an older man, but after getting to know him they knew his intentions with you were well. Same goes for your friends and family. When it came to his fans and the media finding about your relationship, that’s when it went to shit.

The media made Sebastian look like some creep who was going through a midlife crisis for dating someone much younger than him. A few “fans” even claimed that he were a “groomer” after pictures of you and him heavily making out on the street were released. These issues caused some bumps in the road for your relationship, though after many arguments, you two realized that the only opinions that mattered were each other’s.

Now you two were staying at a hotel in Paris. Sebastian was currently working on a big project, “The 355”, something he was very excited about. This was one of the first projects that he was really involved in, from script to screen, he played a pretty big role in this project.

You were typing up a report for your class when Sebastian entered the hotel room. He was still in his set clothes, a light blue shirt, dark jeans, and a pair of Chelsea boots. He approached the bed where you were typing and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“Hey sweetheart, how’s school going?” He greeted you as he settled himself on the bed, laying on his side.

“Meh, it’s going...but I finished my report on time. Now I just need to proofread it.” You smiled as you finished typing the last sentence of your report. When Sebastian discovered he was going to film in Paris, he immediately told you, knowing you’ve been dreaming of visiting Paris. Luckily for the both of you, your school allowed you to do online learning (it probably doesn’t work like that but just go with it) and you were able to tag along with him.

“I’m sure it’s prefect, you’re a great writer.” He complimented, you hummed in response. Turning to him you run your hand through his short hair making him lean into your touch. You loved his fluffy hair but the short hair was starting to grow on you.

Sebastian turned his head and pressed a kiss into your palm, stormy eyes gazing up at you.

“How has your day been?” You asked.

“It was good. We got through a good amount of scenes without messing up, so I’d say it was a successful day.” He answered. You smiled at his enthusiasm. Sebastian’s face always lit up when he was talking about a project and it was one of the things you admired most about him, his passion for his work.

“So, you’ve been cooped up in this damn hotel all day. Why don’t you come to dinner with me and the cast tonight? You’ve been waiting to visit Paris all your life and you haven’t even been outside this hotel for days.” He suggested. It was true, you haven’t done much but do school work, order room service, and binge watch shows on Netflix.

“Are you sure they’d want me to come? I might be intruding.” Honestly you were nervous to meet the rest of the cast. You’ve met Jessica a few times but they were brief and she seemed like she didn’t like you. Though that could just be your thoughts making you paranoid, you were still nervous to meet the people Seb worked with. You didn’t want them to think you were using him for money or to travel around the world because you weren’t. You loved Sebastian for himself, not the money and the fame, you could care less about all that.

But they were still Sebastian’s friends and you wanted to have a good first impression on them. You didn’t want them to think you were just some immature college girl who needed money to pay off her college funds.

Noticing you were drifting off, Sebastian pressed another kiss into your palm and grasps it. “You wouldn’t be intruding, Jessica actually suggested you come along.” He mentioned.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive, baby. Come on, let’s put this stuff away and get ready. We’re having dinner at the Eiffel Tower.”

“I— the Eiffel Tower?”

•

To say you were intimidated and scared shitless was an understatement. Here you were in the Eiffel Tower having dinner with some of the most talented women in Hollywood. Like seriously Jessica Chastain, Lupita Nyong’o, Penélope Cruz, and Diane Kruger. Of course Seb and Édgar Ramírez where there as well. Then there was you, NYC local college student. You didn’t wanna say you felt out of place, but you did. These were successful people who probably starred in some of the movies you watched growing up. Now you’re literally in the Eiffel fucking Tower having dinner with them.

Dinner was going smoothly, everyone was talking about the set, shared some funny stories, and you were keeping to yourself simply eating your steak. That was until the attention was brought to you.

“So (y/n), Sebastian mentioned you were in college, what are you studying?” Jessica asked. Everyone turned to you and you swear you felt like a deer in headlights. Seb nudged your thigh with his, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Yes I am! I’m actually taking a PharmD program at St. John Fisher to become a Pharmacist.” you answered.

“For your masters?” She followed up curiously, slightly leaning forward to you.

“No, for my doctoral degree.” You corrected her proudly. You didn’t want to come off as an ass, but you were proud of your work and you worked your ass off for it.

Everyone at the table was taken back by your response. Except Sebastian, who had a just as proud smile on his face. They knew you were in college but not studying something as serious as Pharmacy.

“St.John Fisher College? I had a cousin that went there, it’s a great college.” Lupita was the first to break the silence.

“So are you working in the field yet? For some experience?” Penélope chimed in. Sebastian snorted, “Oh she has experience, trust me.”

You chuckled as you softly smacked Seb’s bicep, “Well currently, I’m interning as a Pharmacy Tech at a hospital pharmacy. They’re thinking about making me a permanent one until I graduate so fingers crossed!”

As you answered all their questions about your personal life and your major, Sebastian couldn’t help but just admire you. Just like how you admired the way he talked about his projects, he admired the way you got lost in rambling about your soon career. The way your eyes lit up, how your hands moved while you talked, and that hint of a smile on your face. He absolutely adored every single thing about you.

Dinner continued, the last question for you about why you chose to do college in New York, which segwayed into a conversation about— well New York. As the others talked about their love for the city, Sebastian wrapped his arm around your shoulders. Your back was now pressed to his chest, both of you not listening to the conversation. You pressed a kiss to his arm and looked back at him.

“Hey you.” You hummed at him rubbing your thumb along his arm.

“Hi.” He gazed down at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle. The moment was interrupted by your phone ringing. Quickly glancing at the contact ID, it was the hospital pharmacy you interned for.

“You should take that.” Seb whispered into your ear.

“No, Seb that’s rude. We’re at dinner, I’m sure it can wait.”

“I have a good feeling about this call, draga mea.” He coaxed you. Having a feeling that he might be right you excuse yourself from the table. When you’re gone the table goes quiet.

“Sebastian, you’ve got one hell of a girlfriend.” Penélope stated as the rest of the table agreed.

“She’s so smart! What the hell, a doctoral degree? Kudos to her because the amount of motivation I would need to even try!” Jessica followed up with an amazed look on her face.

“I think you guys are forgetting to mention how whipped they both are for each other! Those two were in their own world over there!” Lupita pointed out. The whole table laughed as Sebastian was turning red. Of course he was whipped, he knew he was.

“I love her guys, she’s, she’s something else. The spunk she has, her intelligence, she’s-,” Sebastian began to list but was cut off by Édgar, “Out of your league?”

The whole table burst into laughter as they agreed with Édgar. You were also coming back to the table after your call. Sebastian spotted you, eyes connecting to yours immediately.

“Everything alright?”

“They gave me the permanent job!”

draga mea - my darling 

[samingtonwilson]

A Bid on Bucky

Summary: You spend thousands of dollars at a bachelor auction for Bucky when you could’ve had him for free this entire time.

Pairing: bucky x reader

a/n: this fic is damning evidence that idiots in love is my favorite genre, your honor. i’ve more likely than not used this gif before but idc because im lov it

Tony Stark is a humanitarian— a fact you have neither forgotten, nor will he allow you to forget. 

Oftentimes, he’ll remind you verbally and, other times, a visual reminder will be posted on the team’s social media accounts. The pictures of him at the elephant sanctuary he helped found in Thailand are your personal favorites.

If news of his latest cause is not filling the pages of The Times or showing up on CNN’s special segment of Billionaires Who Care with Christiane Amanpour, it’s being distributed via monthly text reminder of reasons to leave Tony’s special coffee alone— last month you were told, “His donations allowed the doors of Planned Parenthood to remain open in developing nations such as Burkina Faso, and all he asks for in return is that his teammates do not finish his goddamn coffee.” 

Of course, because you all live for him sniffing out your mugs at morning meetings to discover the culprit, his reminders only lead to greater coffee theft as it, in turn, increases the redness in his face when he finds the morally corrupt heathenous criminal— who is usually Clint. 

In true Tony Stark fashion, though, his favorite way to remind you all, and the rest of the world, is through a gala. A gala where champagne flows like water, money is no object, extravagance is to be expected, and, as a member of the team, attendance is mandatory. 

At first, you hated the damn things. It’s not like you’ve ever cared about the private island one guest owns which another guest is so obviously jealous of, or if the deal to buy a chunk of land on the light side of the moon before that hippie Elon Musk usurps it all has successfully closed. 

But now? Now that you’ve learned how to direct the money those snots brag ostentatiously about into causes you truly care for with a couple little sly techniques, you fucking love the things. 

You and Natasha have a game, actually. Whose Shameless and Absolutely Disingenuous Flirting Will Lead to More Money Donated to (Insert Tony’s Latest Cause Here)? 

Natasha is the current titleholder as Smelly Von Oil Tycoon’s wife shooed you away before you could close the million dollar deal and Cowboy Hat McFast Food Franchise would have given up his entire company if Natasha kept batting her eyelashes at him. But in the end, just as every other time the two of you have played, you both felt like winners because the almost obscene amount of money was helping fund housing for Rohingya refugees living in Bangladesh. The competitive edge to it is just for entertainment. 

This time, though, seeing as this event is an auction and you are in no mood to flirt with red-faced old men with paper-thin skin, you have taken to auctioneering with Sam. 

Motioning to a projected photograph of a luxurious Paris hotel room with a view of the Eiffel Tower in your best Vanna White impression, you grin as brightly as you can. “And the last item Sam and I will be auctioning off together is a two-night stay at Plaza Athénée in Paris. First class airfare for two is included, as are two tickets to the Louvre. You’ve been to Paris, haven’t you, Sam?” 

“Why, yes, baby girl, I have,” he replies with a grin as broad as yours, the spotlight and his natural charm causing his deep brown eyes to sparkle like diamonds. You think for a second that you can actually hear Bucky scoffing in the audience. “A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, but I will say that it is called the City of Love for a reason.” 

“Of course, our unlucky-in-love Sam shared those kisses only with every bit of bread and cheese he came across but you can share it all with someone special.” At that, Sam elbows you gently in the ribs with a fond roll of his eyes. “We’re going to start the bidding at twenty-thousand dollars.”

Immediately, paddles shoot up and Sam begins calling out higher bids and paddle numbers while you lean your hip against the podium and take a long sip of your champagne which has since, unfortunately, gone lukewarm and flat. Your face pinches and you scan the crowd for a wandering waiter. 

Before you can, though, your head tilts just as you spot Bucky, a large button reading “BACHELOR #4” pinned to the lapel of his tux.

He’s laughing. Not openly and loudly like he usually does when the two of you are alone, but his shoulders are shaking and he’s grinning so the skin beside his eyes wrinkles. You think fleetingly that his cheeks might even be dusted in pink as he ducks his head. 

The sight makes you smile, too, and you set your champagne aside. It’s secondary now. 

“Congratulations to Mr. Baldwin and all the other winners of these wonderful vacations,” Sam says once the winner has been announced and ushered backstage. “Sadly, our time is up for the night.”

You nod and pick up your microphone again. “Yes, but you will be seeing Sam again tonight as a part of the Bachelor Auction. Give the crowd a spin, Sam, show them what they could be going on a date with.” 

Sam unbuttons his wine-colored tuxedo and spins slowly, a slight swing in his hips. He’s met with several wolf-whistles, a rose thrown on stage, and a brief retching noise courtesy of Clint, to which Sam replies with a wink and a scoffed, “The glory is too much to handle for the insecure and faint of heart, ain’t it, Barton? We got a doctor on retainer in case you pass out.” 

Sam holds out his elbow to help you down the stairs and you gratefully loop your arm through his, your other hand hoisting the hem of your dress above your ankles. 

You sigh after meeting one of the bid winners, smile falling from your lips the moment you turn away. “I should’ve bid on that Marrakech trip.” 

Sam cocks an eyebrow. He doesn’t seem to mind one bit that you have yet to release him and simply follows you as you head to the bar. “Enjoy it last time?” 

“You mean when I was there to locate stolen Chitauri weapons?” you let out a bark of sarcastic laughter. “Steve didn’t even let me glance in the relative direction of a souq when that was the only reason I volunteered.” 

“So that’s a no?” 

You take the fresh flute of champagne a waiter offers and nod your thanks. “That’s a hell fucking no.” A pathetic pout and, “I deserve to love Morocco.” 

“Makin’ that face at me won’t help your cause. Makin’ that face at Pervert Santa Claus over there,” he points to a man, rosy-cheeked with a white beard and wandering eyes, who you recognize as the winner of the trip. “That’ll get you what you want.”

You make a face, tongue sticking out as you gag, and set your glass atop the bar. “First of all, even the prospect of sex with me will make his heart give out.”

Sam laughs into his tumbler of whiskey and rolls his eyes.

You grimace openly when the eyes of an elderly man— his arm around a woman who looks to be barely in her twenties— linger a bit too long and smile when he visibly shrinks. “And B., I only flirt with them to get donations. I’d sooner never leave this tower again than get with one of these ‘I only donate money to boost my public image’ types.” 

He hums and a slow, lazy smile curves his lips. He nods his head in the direction of something behind you. “Barnes’ got a different ideology.”

As casually as you can, you turn your body to lean your elbows atop the bar and tilt your head ever so slightly to glance where Bucky is standing. 

Standing and laughing. How is he still laughing? 

Arching an eyebrow at the woman he speaks to, you lift your glass to your lips. “Doesn’t look like she fits the bill.” 

“You’re joking,” Sam laughs, shaking his head as he sets his elbows on the bar as well. His shoulder brushes yours and, despite the itchy fabric of his tuxedo, you don’t mind. “That’s Maris Scheufele.” 

Long, chestnut brown hair swept over one shoulder to keep her back bare, her gown is silky, liquid gold. Dripping in wealth.

You purse your lips and turn back to Sam. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” 

“Chopard heiress.” 

“Chopard like—” with wide eyes, you point at the sapphire and diamond earrings borrowed from Pepper on your ears and the matching ring on your left index finger. “Like Cannes Film Festival Chopard? Like that Chopard?” 

“Yeah, that Chopard.” He has to stop from laughing at the look you offer him. He thinks he might see your skin turn green in a matter of minutes. “She’s more loaded than Cigarette-Breath Du Rideshare-App-CEO from the elephant benefit.” 

You manage a small smile and a quick roll of your eyes, only to have them once again land on Bucky and the Chopard heiress. Maris. 

You aren’t jealous— per se. Jealousy is an ugly emotion, after all. Childish, and inconsiderate, and rooted in insecurity. 

Sure, she’s cuddled up next to someone you’re in the midst of denying feelings for out of fear and the prospect of being undeserving. And, sure, she’s covered in diamonds and you’re usually covered in dried blood, dust, and dirt from HYDRA facilities. But you aren’t jealous. 

You know you’ve wasted your time, his efforts, and your emotions being anything but happy with Bucky. Chances lost never come around again, right? So you’ve made your peace with it. You’ve had to make your peace with it.

With how much you’ve messed up, how many chances you’ve lost. With how perfect she is and how perfect he looks laughing with her. 

Perfect. 

So perfect that your teeth grit and the grip you have on your champagne flute tightens.

“He’s gonna bring in the big bucks.” 

You snort. “I thought he had different ideologies.”

“He does. But you know she ain’t gonna let him get auctioned off to anyone else.” A corner of Sam's lips turn up in disgust as he, too, stares at them with little stealth. Nick Fury would be ashamed in you both. “Lookin’ at him like he’s a piece of jerky.” 

“Jerky?”

“Old, dried up beef.” He then hums in agreement with his own words. “Nasty, hundred-year old beef.” 

With a laugh— a laugh that has the cadence of a sob— you drop your head into your hands. 

You meet Bucky’s eyes when you pick your head up, his head tilted in silent question. Perhaps at your wet, ironic smile, perhaps at the pull of your eyebrows. 

You shake your head in response and it’s when he almost immediately returns to laughing at whatever Maris Scheufele is saying that you straighten with a frown. 

What the hell kind of name is that anyway? Maris.

“What the hell—” you pause to take the glass from Sam’s hands and polish off his whiskey. “What the hell is so funny?” 

The glass is snatched back. “Not you finishing my drink, that’s for sure.” 

Shrugging as you continue to stare at Bucky and Maris, you mumble, “Put the next one on my tab.” 

Sam snorts as he asks for another drink, facing you as he adds, “S’an open bar, you cheap ass.” 

Once you’ve been able to secure a fresh, much stronger drink for yourself, you loop your arm through Sam’s again and set your chin on his shoulder. Your noses nearly bump when he looks at you and you both laugh softly. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” 

“You did.” He yelps and laughs when you pinch his side, lightly knocking his head against yours. Gentle eyes meet yours as he says, “Not tryna be harsh, but you had him and you let him go.” 

“I know.” 

“He spent weeks moping about it, you spent weeks moping about it.” 

“I know.”

“It was miserable comforting both you idiots.” 

“Yeah, you’re the real victim here.” 

Despite your dry tone, he nods in agreement. “You could tell him right now. Get all this bullshit over with and out in the open.”

Just the idea makes your heart rate spike. “He might reject me. Exact revenge for what I did.” 

“Barnes is a lotta things. Greasy, geriatric, testy, fuckin’ annoying as shit—” Sam hisses when you pinch him again, “— but vindictive ain’t one of ‘em.” 

Before Sam can convince you to move even an inch from the part of the bar you’ve dubbed yours for the night, warm fingers wrap around your elbow and tap your arm five times in quick succession. A secret identification code. 

A secret identification code that makes you smile despite yourself. You lift your head from Sam’s shoulder and hope you don’t look too eager as Bucky leans back against the bar, facing you entirely. “Look who it is.” 

He waves vibranium fingers and grins, a bit of that thirties charm you’d heard so much about shining in his blue eyes as he looks at you. “Hi, sweetheart. Wilson,” he adds with a playfully curt nod, chuckling when Sam returns it. “You were great up there. Prettiest MC I’ve ever seen. Almost had me buyin’ the trip to Morocco to make up for the shit Steve put you through.”

You feel Sam shaking in silent laughter and sigh when you hear his whispered, “For fuck’s sake.” 

“Only ‘almost’?” you ask with a pout Bucky grins at and wide eyes that have him swallowing over a dry throat. “What does a girl have to do for you to actually bid?” 

He shakes his head after a moment of simply staring, chuckling. “These poor bastards don’t stand a chance against you, do they? They’d probably sign their entire companies over to you and not think twice about it.”

“Just doing my part to save the Amazon,” you shrug. “Like you’re doing with the Bachelor Auction.” 

“‘Bout that,” he begins as he straightens his jacket and tie— all black. You trace his jaw, sharp and angular, when he glances away for just a second. “How long d’you think it’ll take Stark to put me out of my misery when nobody bids on me?”

“I wouldn’t be so negative. I know of one person who’ll definitely bid on you.”

His lips quirk up on one end, eyes dreamy as his head tilts in indulgence. “Yeah? Who’s that?” 

“Your heiress.” 

Bucky doesn’t seem to notice Sam jabbing his elbow into your ribs and cocks an eyebrow in confusion. “My what?” 

Though you weren’t planning on replying, Tony’s voice over the speakers doesn’t allow Bucky to question you further and you heave a sigh of relief. He calls all the bachelors to the stage and Sam pulls his arm from yours, bumping your shoulders together before he departs just as Tony begins telling a story of his first bachelor auction and how much he went for. 

Bucky remains still, however. Leant against the bar, eyes on you. 

“Bachelor number 4,” you say, pointing at the button he wears. You smile softly. “You’re needed on stage.” 

That seems to jolt him out of whatever stupor he was lost in and he stands straight. He takes a step forward and pauses, so close you can feel the heat radiating from him and smell his subtle cologne. “Bid on me if no one else does.” 

“I won’t need to.” 

Natasha finds you just as the bidding begins and orders herself a drink. She doesn’t say much, simply looking at you as you stare at Bucky standing next to Steve and Sam, and nods to herself. She remains a quiet, comfortable presence until Steve is brought to centerstage and nearly every paddle in the room shoots up. “You tell him yet?” 

“Nope.” 

“Thought so.” She nods her head to her left and you follow the movement to where Maris sits, back straight as she, too, looks at Bucky— but she’s grinning, paddle poised to be raised. “Scheufele being a cock block?” 

You’re visibly surprised when you turn back to Natasha, her ginger hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. “How did you— How the hell could you possibly know that?” 

With the crooked curve of blood red lips, she smiles. “I’m just that good. And Sam texted me about it ten minutes ago.”

She continues to watch you as the excited winner of a date with Steve rises from his seat. “He’s next.” 

“I know that.” 

“You gonna bid on him?” 

You snort, though unconvincingly, and shake your head. “And go against an heiress? I’ll save myself the embarrassment.” 

“Stark pays us buckets,” she tells you with a frown, picking a stray piece of lint off her silver dress. “You could afford to go against an heiress.”

Bucky’s eyes are narrowed as he looks over the crowd of people seated at their tables. The light bounces off diamonds and sequins, gold and shiny leather shoes. It stings his eyes, it makes him scowl. 

“And next, ladies and gentlemen, feast your eyes on Bachelor Number 4,” Tony announces, turning a bit to glance at Bucky as he trudges over, not bothering to look a bit more appealing. “James Buchanan Barnes, truly the human equivalent of a cat.” 

Bucky openly glares at Tony now.

“James enjoys silence, brooding, eating like a fuckin’ horse, and telling the same story more than once,” Tony continues, ignoring the roll of Bucky’s eyes. “Cute, cuddly, and a little dangerous, we’ll start the bidding at one-thousand.” 

Three paddles shoot up. One from Maris, and two toward the center of the room. Your shoulders tense, Bucky’s relax.

“Okay, do I see eleven hundred?” 

Two paddles remain lifted until Maris shouts from her seat in a lilting voice, “Three thousand.” 

Your jaw clenches, Bucky grins. 

Tony set his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Alright, three thousand going once—” 

“Thirty-one hundred!” 

It feels as if the entire room turns in their seats to gape at you, but you try to pay them no mind. You, wearing your jealousy and determination like armor, stand at the bar with an empty glass in your hand, waiting for Tony to call your bid. But before he can— 

“Thirty-two!”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look at Maris. “Thirty-three!” 

“Four thousand!” She’s smiling. A perfectly manicured eyebrow is raised in challenge. 

You see red. “Forty-three hundred.” 

“Six thousand!” 

“Sixty-five hundred!” 

“Seventy-five hundred!”

When you look at the stage in a bit of a panic, Tony grins expectantly at you and Bucky— Well, you don’t think Bucky’s ever looked so shocked in all the time you’ve known him. But when his eyes go from Maris to meet yours, you find yourself yelling, “Ten thousand!” 

The room goes silent, or maybe you’ve just tuned it all out, and Tony is shaking his head in amusement. “Ten thousand going once.” 

You turn toward Maris as she sits and tosses her paddle onto the table. “Ten thousand going twice.”

You face the stage again. Bucky’s expression is unreadable. “Sold to our beautiful teammate in blue.” 

A bright spotlight shines on you and you fight the urge to run from the room, from the Tower, from New York, and give your best smile. 

— 

It’s four in the morning, all the lights on the residential floors of the Tower have been turned off, and the world is peaceful. But your mind continues to race. 

You sit at the kitchen counter, container of Sam’s leftover cheesecake from your lunch out with him open before you. You twirl a fork between your fingers and stare at nothing in particular, your soft breaths the only sound in the room. 

You’d changed out of your dress hours ago, washed off your makeup and taken the pins out of your hair. You could barely meet the eyes of your reflection out of fear of judgement and you didn’t ask FRIDAY to dim the lights or lock your door just in case she laughed at you. 

Tony had yet to talk to you about paying the ten grand you bid on Bucky and you left the ballroom before anyone could so much as snicker. You knew you couldn’t hide forever, you just needed the night to come to terms with your own stupidity. 

Yet as you prop your chin upon your palm and sigh, you think you might need a day or two, too. 

Quiet steps down the hall are made purposefully louder as they grow closer so as to not startle you, the lights dim as bulbs flicker on to about ten-percent of their full brightness. You fear your heartbeat might be audible to everyone in a ten mile radius at the sight of his blue eyes, messy brown hair, and wrinkled black t-shirt, and take a deep breath through parted lips in a futile attempt to calm it down.

He offers you a small smile and walks to the fridge. “You want some water?” 

You shake your head— even though he can’t see you. “No, I’m fine.” 

There’s a beat of silence and you take a breath to steady yourself. “Buck, I think we should talk.” 

He takes out a glass bottle of water for himself and shuts the fridge, leaning against the sink. He’s still smiling. “I know.” 

“I—” 

“I’m not gonna hold you to this thing,” he interjects, rolling the bottle between his hands. He watches as you sit up straight and set your fork down. “I know you made the bid just to donate the money and save me from that married heiress—” 

“Married?” you repeat to yourself. 

“And you’ve made it clear you just want to be friends,” he continues, undeterred. “So it’s okay. Hell, I’ll pay for half of it so I’ll feel like I’ve actually done somethin’ to save the sea turtles.” 

“The Amazon.” 

“Right, the Amazon,” he amends with a quiet laugh. He takes a sip of the water and sets the botte aside. “So whaddya say, huh? We’ll go half and half, help this cause out a little, and you don’t have to go on a date with me.” 

“Bucky, you don’t understand—” 

“No, no, I get it,” he says, walking around the narrow strip of granite separating you to sit on the stool beside yours. Features soft but a little sad, he shrugs as warmth rolls off him in waves. “I told you to bid on me in case no one else did and you saw how much more Steve went for. You tried to raise the bids on me and got stuck since those billionaires didn’t want to shell out more than ten grand on the Winter Soldier. I get it!” 

“That’s not why I did it, Bucky. Not at all.” 

He lowers his eyes to his hands, staring at mismatched palms, and says nothing. 

“Honestly, I—” You stop yourself when it feels as if your heart’s lodged itself in your throat and struggle to swallow over it. “When I saw that Chopard heiress talking to you and laughing with you, and when she bid on you and almost won that date, I— Something happened.” 

He looks at you now, eyebrows pulled together. “What happened?” 

“I— I don’t know. I guess I was a little jealous,” you say with a laugh only to shake your head. There’s a subtle sting behind your eyes, at the tip of your nose, and you pray to every deity you can think of to stop any tears. “No, I was very, very jealous. You two looked so happy and perfect and I wanted to scream, and cry, and— Fuck, all I could think about is how much time, and energy, and emotion I’ve wasted pushing you away so neither one of us ends up heartbroken when I already am.” 

You sigh, unable to meet his gaze as he gapes at you, his mouth hanging open as you laugh mirthlessly. “It probably seems so stupid to you and I know you’ve moved on, but, holy hell, I wish you still had some kind of crush on me because I’m dying here, Buck. I mean I just spent ten thousand dollars to make you go on a date with me.” 

“You did,” he agrees. He’s smiling when you manage to look at him, “You spent ten thousand dollars on me when you could’ve just had me for free this entire time.” 

He grasps your chin between his flesh index finger and thumb and jostles you a little, gaze so adoring. “And what punk ass told you I moved on from you? Huh? That same goof who said it’s just a crush?” 

He leans forward and pauses just before his lips meet yours, as if waiting for you to pull away only for you to close the distance first. 

What starts off as just a light brush of your lips against his quickly turns into a deep, hungry kiss that quiets your mind and forces your heart into overdrive. The warmth of it reaches your toes and every hair follicle, especially as both his hands cup your face while your fingers tangle through his hair, the rasp of his stubbly beard against your soft, sensitive skin stealing your breath even more.

You pull away first and your voice is small, a bit hoarse as you ask, “So you still like me?” 

He sets his forehead against yours and his lips pull into a smile. “I’d say it’s a li’l more than that, sweetheart.” 

It’s hours later when the sun is up, the cheesecake slice is long forgotten, and Bucky’s pulled you onto his stool to straddle his lap, your lips swollen and a little painful, that you groan in embarrassment. 

He immediately leans away from your neck and looks up at you in concern, lips full and cherry red. “What? What’s wrong?” 

“I have to pay Tony ten thousand dollars.” 

Chuckling, he rolls his eyes and presses a kiss to your chin. “I’ll pay it.” 

“Then I’ll owe you ten thousand dollars.” You withhold a moan when he nips at a part of your neck that has your hips rolling into his, the hitching of his breath felt more than heard. “That— that just transfers the problem.”

You feel him smile, arm tightening around you. “I think I know of a way you can pay me back.”

“Sounds like you just discovered the world’s oldest profession.” 

A punishing nip under your jaw and you gasp as he laughs. “I’m still all for going half and half to save the sea turtles.” 

“The Amazon.” 

He sighs and leans back. “Fuckin’ Christ. Someone needs to save the fuckin’ turtles already, then.”

[coppicefics]

Masked Omens: Week One

New chapter here, or read from the start here!

(Right click picture and select ‘View Image’ or ‘Open Image In New Tab’ for hi-res version.)

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads 'Masked Omens'.

Image 2 - A newspaper page from the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 26th December, 2020. Full image description and transcription below the cut.]

The Capital Herald, Saturday 26th December 2020 News, page 11

GODLEIGH MANOR RESTORATION SET TO BEGIN YouTube Community Comes To The Rescue Of Historic House In Unprecedented Donation Spree Restoration work on Godleigh Manor, Little Dyvyn, is set to proceed at last after years of stagnation – thanks to an unexpected influx of donations from interested members of the public. A house has stood on the site since at least the early 13th century, but most of the current building was constructed in the 18th century by its then owner, Lord Michael Godleigh. It remained a private residence until 1914, when it was commandeered as a military hospital for officers injured in the First World War. When the war was over, the officers went home, but the Godleigh family had suffered severe losses, and those who had been involved in treating the injured officers had many bad memories associated with the place. What was left of the family moved out, and – barring the operation of a second temporary hospital during the Second World War – this once-busy house has remained empty and silent ever since. Left to its own devices, the house began to crumble. Water found its way through the roof, and weeds forced their way up through the floor. By the time the deed to Godleigh Manor was passed on to its current owner, Lucy Godleigh, in the mid-1990s, barely a few rooms were anything close to habitable. “I set up in a mobile home on the grounds,” Godleigh told The Capital Herald, “and basically just started trying to secure the few rooms that hadn't been completely exposed to the elements. Then I contacted a restoration expert to find out what could be done for the rest of it.” The experts' verdict wasn't what she wanted to hear. “There was no chance I could pay for it myself. The rest of the family opposed me moving back here; I was on my own. And to get the whole place back to the way it was, we were looking at anything from fifty million to three hundred million pounds. I was going to need help raising the funds, so I started campaigning. But it was slow going. Nobody's keen to put their hands in their pockets to restore a stranger's old family pile.” And, for over two decades, it seemed that a pile would soon be all that was left. Godleigh moved into Little Dyvyn, and the property was abandoned once more to the tender mercies of the elements and the frequent trespassers who came to explore. “I'd go up a few times a week, but it hardly seemed worth it. I'd all but given up. But then one of those visitors saved the day.” A YouTube personality known as Sergeant Shadwell, famed for his urban exploration videos and the occasional paranormal investigation, contacted Godleigh to ask to film in the house. “I said yeah, whatever, do what you like, it's a mess,” Godleigh recalled, “and he saved it. He saved my home.” Shadwell uploaded a video of Godleigh Manor in the last week of November. In it, he speaks frankly about the challenges and benefits of preserving such old buildings. “I don't know about there being ghosts here,” he tells viewers, “but there's a lot of wasted potential. Stately homes like this can and should be used, and it'd be a real shame for this one to crumble. I'll add a link to the fundraiser in the video description.” The Wytchfynder Army, as Shadwell's fans call themselves, have so far contributed £80m to the Save Godleigh Manor campaign. The fundraising page is filled with messages of encouragement and support, attached to donations ranging from £5 to £1500. Some donors have even explained that they raised the money through sponsored swims, bake sales, and car washes. “It's enough to get started, to make a really good start,” Godleigh explained, “I can't thank him – all of them – enough. They really came together to help me – a complete stranger – and it means so much, it really does.” So what's next for Godleigh Manor? First, says Godleigh, the surviving rooms will need to be stablised. Then the house's ground floor will be restored to its former glory, and Godleigh hopes to work with local historians to ensure that it is both a functional and educational space. “I won't charge people any more to use it than I need to cover the cost of maintaining it,” Godleigh said. “How can I? It's being restored by this huge community; it belongs to the community, and to Little Dyvyn. It's going to be a great space for everyone to enjoy.” Work is now set to begin on the Godleigh Manor restoration project as early as April this year, depending on local planning committee approval of plans first drawn up in 1998. MARY HODGES. To find out more, or to contribute to the renovation costs, visit www.savegodleighmanor.org.uk.

[Image Description: A sepia photograph of a large, grand house. Inset, a colour photograph of a hole in a wall, through which weeds can be seen growing. End ID.] [Caption] NEGLECTED: Godleigh Manor, pictured above in 1980, was once the heart of a thriving community. Inset, weeds grow in what used to be a service corridor to the rear of the main building. (Photo: Annie Spratt on Unsplash. Inset: E. Diop on Unsplash.)

THE NEWS IN NUMBERS 800 years of a house on the site 300 years in its current form 23 generations in the same family 29 bedrooms 40 acres of land £50m lowest estimated renovation costs £300m highest estimated renovation costs 198k subscribers to Wytchfynder 291 Wytchfynder videos 10 years Sgt Shadwell served in the Army £80m raised by the Wytchfynder Army £91m renovation funds raised so far 15 years estimated to complete renovation

[Image Description: a rectangular ad with a picture of Dr. Raven Sable. His name is signed beneath his photograph. Text reads: Don't settle for a balanced diet when you can have a SABLE DIET. End ID.]

Corner Cuppa with Esther James

[ID: Photo of a young woman's face. She has black hair cut into a bob, and slightly gothic makeup. End ID.]

Why do we know you? I'm the captain of the Red Roses, which is the England Women's Rugby Team. What are you passionate about? Rugby! Also, my girlfriend Jane (Adams, also on the squad), and my charitable causes, of course. I support the NSPCC and the Albert Kennedy Trust, in particular - both fantastic charities helping young people who've been let down, in many cases, by the people they should most be able to rely on. I'm really glad to be involved with them. What's your favourite holiday of the year? Pride! I love getting dressed up and going to the parades – most of the time Jane and I get to march, these days, which is great. Last year we even got to ride on a float at one of them, which was really surreal – we got to cover ourselves in rainbow feather boas and just have a laugh waving at people. What a great time! What's been your proudest moment? So far, it's a tie between coming out as bi in a press conference – which was really scary at the time but which led to such good things and such good conversations – and being made captain of the Red Roses. It's an honour just to be selected for the national side, but to be chosen to lead from such a talented group of women is even better. I was walking on air for a week! If you could do anything in the world once, what would it be? Only once? I'd hate to do something and enjoy it and never get to do it again. But, OK, hypotherically... Something completely different and mad, like getting up on a stage and performing a song like I really mean it, or bungee-jumping. What scares you? Bungee-jumping! Which is exactly why I'd like to do it. I think it's good to get out of your own head and your own comfort zone and just do something that scares you, if you can. What's your ideal day? Taking a day off of training and just lying on the sofa watching films with Jane for the whole day. We love what we do, but we don't get a lot of downtime to just relax and snuggle. But then, when we do get a day off, it's usually at the same time, so that's lovely; we're always together and it hasn't started getting on our nerves yet! If you could go anywhere in the world right now, with no complications or restrictions, where would you go? I've always wanted to go to the Eiffel Tower, but somehow whenever I end up in France I don't find the time. Jane's never been to Disneyland, so I think we'd have to combine the two if we got a no-holds-barred trip somewhere. And, obviously, I wouldn't exactly hate getting to meet Mickey again! What's the best advice you've ever been given? My gran was as tough as old boots, and proud of it. She once sat me down, when I was quite young, and she said, “Essie,” which is what she called me, “Essie, you'll do all right in life if you remember this simple rule. Make sure you keep your nose clean, but don't be afraid to get your boots dirty.” I'm not sure she meant me to take it quite so literally! But I think what she meant was, don't get into trouble unnecessarily, but don't be so scared of getting it wrong that you can't do anything right. That's stuck with me, I've held onto it all these years, and I think it's a good motto to live by. What's one thing you wish someone had told you when you were younger? I wish they'd told me it was OK that I fancied girls, that things were getting better. I think we've still got a long way to go, as a community, but I never could have dreamed that a bisexual woman could captain England when I was a little girl. Let alone that it would be me! Finally, what's one thing you'd like to tell younger people now? Be true to yourself, be true to your friends, and be kind. I think the world will turn out fine if we all just try to be kind to one another, above all. Next week's cuppa: Ligur Mortice, head of the Ligur fashion house.

[End of page.]

[thegristforthemill]

It's the End of the World As We Know It And I Feel Fine (And You Can Too)

Image Credit Michael Smith, Circa 2008

The Ending Is Trending

Although it's been over 30 years since R.E.M. stormed the airwaves with the campy hit, It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine, for some reason, it keeps playing in my head. Who knew back in the blissful '80s that this could have been the anthem of 2020? The year brought more than we could have imagined, pandemic aside- social unrest, conspiracy theories abound, and of course, the looming end of days.

Our Prepping Past

This is a delicate conversation, no doubt, we are talking doomsday here. But, for me, that's old hat. That's my past. Yes, it sounds crazy- how could the end of the world be my past? Let me explain. For nearly 10 years, my husband and I lived on a 200+ acre property with my family in rural Tennessee. It was our little compound; my parents, grandparents, sister were all safely protected from the world's dangers. We had our own homes, but the property was fitted with a large and fully stocked underground bunker for when the time came. In short, I'm familiar with the topic.

The constant, imminent fear of what was to surely destroy all who were unknowing or unprepared was always present. My father was convinced we had to be ready - there were family meetings to discuss the latest threat to our survival. If it wasn't solar flares, it was the collapse of the economy. And if it wasn't either of those, then the Yellowstone Super Volcano was only a matter of time. Nuclear warfare, natural disasters, alien invasion, or a global pandemic- the list of potential candidates never seemed to end. It was terrifying.

We respected my father immensely because he was remarkable, brilliant, and commanding in almost every regard. I believed everything he said, without equivocation, for years. I would have blindly followed him into a fire. But we didn't all see things the same as he did. This became an area of contention in my marriage; it was the beginning of a breaking point.

The time and energy put towards preparing for doom was not a way to live. It was death waiting to happen, a life of fear. We were surviving, not thriving. While we were so busy worrying about the end, we weren't living in the present. We didn't have lives and certainly not social ones. We were, well, I was, a hermit. My husband went out of town as often as possible until he was just gone.

Our marriage nearly ended. I mean, it was hanging by a thread. We were a signature away from divorce. At the time, having to choose between my family and my husband felt like the end of my world. It was one of the most challenging decisions, but my father actually helped make it. When asked for his counsel, he only asked one question, "what lifestyle do you want?" He knew it no longer mattered if the world was actually to end but what we would do with the time while we were here. We ended up leaving Tennessee and moving to Florida to reset our marriage. There is more to that story, but that's for another day.

Finding The Gold

I'm grateful for the experience, the lessons, even the survival skills. It was a time that showed us who we are and who we choose to be. My father taught me many things before he passed away in 2017. The most valuable, the viewpoint that we get to choose our interpretations; it's all in how we see it.

These days, our doomsday plan consists of getting to the top of the Eiffel Tower, watching with champagne in hand.

I'm not suggesting to be unprepared for emergencies or to ignore potential threats. I share my experience to help those who may be hooked by the fear of it all. I offer another interpretation. Maybe the world is ending, or perhaps it's changing. Possibly what is coming to a close is the world as we know it. Change brings forth progress and growth. It might be time for what we've known to expire and our new potential to arise.

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and proudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!"

-Hunter S. Thompson

How You Can Be Fine Too:

1. Build Your Bubble

The world is noisy. Everywhere, everyone wants you to agree, disagree, buy, like, share, subscribe, believe, cancel, etc.… We are bombarded with information all day. News, social media, other people's opinions- it's not healthy. It chips away at us slowly. We are so influenced by what we consume that we don't even think our own thoughts anymore; we regurgitate. It is called a 'feed,' after all.

Change your mental diet and manage what influences you. Tune out the external. Take a social media break. I intentionally don't have the Apps on my phone, so it isn't a regular part of my day.

Surround yourself with people that paint your world with vibrant colors. Choose influences that support your well-being.

2. Set It and Forget It

Do prepare for emergencies. Access your situation and determine the level of preparedness that works for your comfort. Ideally, have an emergency fund with several months of living expenses saved. Set it all up, and then forget about it. Move on, sleep at night, knowing you did your part, and the rest is up to the rest. Now go live!

3. Remember the Basic Needs of Man- Keep It Simple

This was pretty evident in the early days of the pandemic - we all scrambled to get plenty of food, water, and for some reason, toilet paper. Aside from that, there's air, nutrients, and light. Then, shelter, which says nothing about a pool, a gazebo, or a guest house. When we stop and boil it down, life is pretty simple. We just make it complicated. If you have the basic needs, be grateful.

4. Watch Life is Beautiful

This year changed us, altered our perspective. We see things differently now. What if we have the power to change what we see regardless of the circumstances? Watch the film Life Is Beautiful (La vita è Bella) for serious inspiration. Based on a true story. If, when forced into a Nazi concentration camp, Guido can create a game out of the holocaust for his son, then we can make something out of anything.

5. Burn It All Down

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Janis Joplin sang, "Freedom's just another word for nothin' left to lose." Let those words sink in. We have to put it all on the line, release all attachments to people, things, expectations, and the image we or others have of us. When we can let go of all of this, then we are free.

As scary as it was to leave our life in Florida before moving into the ole R.V., it was also liberating. Getting rid of the stuff, the headaches, the bills, the trappings of a life in SoFL….stripping ourselves of everything we thought we knew to go on a journey of discovery. The song Burn It Down by AWOLNATION motivates me to throw caution to the wind and say F*ck it all.

We are here one time, and who knows for how long. What are you waiting for?

Learn more about our journey @ www.theodyssee.com

[miraculoussideblog]

Ways To Forgive Chapter 7

Catch up with the first fic in the series  Ways to Say I’m Sorry

Chapter [1][2][3][4][5][6][You are here]

[AO3]

Chapter 7- The Box

Chloe stared at the shoe box for hours after Nathaniel dropped it off. She couldn’t do it. Whatever was in that box could change everything. She had to do this alone.  

She sighed and opened the box. Inside were several envelopes addressed to Chloe. She picked up a pink envelope and opened it. It was generic birthday card with a big tiered cake with a large number 5 in the middle. Several bills fell onto her lap.

Dear Chloe,

Happy Birthday. Thinking of you.

Love Mom

That was it?

Chloe dug through and opened an assortments of birthday and Christmas cards filled with money. They were all very generic and the note in them was always the same. “I love you. I miss you. I’m thinking of you.” Even so, if she had gotten these when she was supposed to it would have been enough. They would have given her hope that one day she would see her again. She could almost understand her father’s reason for keeping these from her.

At the bottom of the box was an opened letter envelope. On the outside, the letter was not addressed to Chloe, but to her butler Jean. It was dated a few months after her sixteenth birthday.

Dear Chloe,

I hope this letter makes it to you. Addressed this to Jean to make sure this got to you. It’s been a little over thirteen years since I walked out of your life. Thirteen years since I said goodbye. Now that you are sixteen, I think you’re old enough to know why I left.

I loved your father so much when we got married. But when your father began campaigning for mayor, there was a certain standard I had to uphold and become the pretty political trophy wife. I was expected to end my career as a fashion critic and give up my dreams of traveling because “Paris came first.”

Over time I began to resent your father and I became something I was not. I spent his money hoping to make a dent in his bottomless funds so he would notice me. And yes, I did become accustomed to the lifestyle. I won’t lie to you. When I divorced him I took as much as I could. If your father spun some tale about me being a golddigger, it was his own doing. But taking his money came with a price. Per the divorce agreement, I was never to see you again until your eighteenth birthday.

That being said, I found a way back into Paris next month. Your father has his eyes and ears all around the city so this won’t be easy. Meet me at the Eiffel Tower at noon on June 12th. I have a present for you. Don’t worry about finding me, I won’t be recognizable. I will look for you.

I eagerly await our reunion.   

Love Mom.

Hot tears rolled down Chloe’s face. She tried to see her. She risked  getting into Paris to try to see her years ago. If her father had the letter in the box he definitely read it. Chloe thought back to that summer. Her father surprised her with an impromptu trip to London for a week. He knew her mother would be in Paris and looking for her.

Chloe took a deep breath, wiped away her tears and got out of bed. It was time to face reality. She showered, and put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before leaving her apartment.

She walked to Le Grand Paris Hotel with the letter clutched to her chest. She rehearsed what she was going to say dozens of times before walking into the lobby. Her father stood at the front desk talking with the concierge.     

Chloe took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“Father,” she said sharply, getting the attention of everyone in the lobby. “We need to talk.”

Andre lowered his head. “Let’s go to my room.”

“No, there,” she pointed to the couches where several guests were sitting. She couldn’t wait until they got upstairs, the elevator ride would be too awkward.

“But the guests...”

They were already making a scene. All Chloe needed to do was channel her inner ice queen and the lobby would be the clear in an instant. She turned to the guests on the couches. “This is a private conversations. Do you know who my father is?”

“Chloe sweetheart, I’m not the mayor anymore and I don’t own the hotel, the shareholders--”

Chloe stared down the guests until they fled to the elevator. She smirked and took a seat. “Sit.”

“Chloe I don’t like your attitude.”

“Sit. Now father.”

Andre sank into the couch. “I see Nathaniel gave you the box.”

Chloe nodded. “I am. So angry with you. You kept thirteen years of cards in an out of season Jimmy Choo box. There were over a thousand Euros in there by the way. Mom said she bought presents.

“You did receive those. You didn't know they were from your mother.”

“Do you remember what they--”

“It’s been years Chloe, and I’m an old man. Please.” A silence hung between the two for several seconds before Andre spoke again. “There were a few toys during the early years. I remember she set a watch one year. It’s all so hazy.”

“Why was this open?”

“Ah, that letter. I was wondering if I should give it to you. I put it under the cards to soften the blow. Years ago, I intercepted it before it could get to Jean. I thought it was strange that he received a letter at the hotel. I was right to be suspicious.”

“So the trip to London?”

Andre sighed. “It was to get you out of Paris until she left. I wanted her to think you didn’t want to see her again. So I wrote back as Jean when we came back and told her you refused to see her. That’s when the cards stopped coming.

“So she was right when she said you turned her into what she is today.”

“Your mother is a grown woman, she needs to take responsibility for her actions. Since arriving at your engagement party all she’s done was cause trouble. I will not be blamed for it.”

“What was she like? Before you became mayor?”

“She was a lot like you. But she had a love for fashion and traveling. As the mayor’s wife I needed her to stay in the city for galas, fundraisers and other political events. After we had you she felt more and more trapped. Please understand, she did love you very much. I’m sorry if this is hard to hear. I’ve spent years destroying your image of her, but now that she’s here, maybe she can undo some of that damage.”

Chloe glanced down at the letter. What would have happened if her father never stole the letter? Would she have gone?

At sixteen she was in such a weird place. She was Queen Bee, her friendships with the team made her so happy. School was still rough with Marinette in her class, but what did she care, she had Ladybug. She also had her first boyfriend, first heartbreak and several moments where she needed a mother’s love and support. What if her mother was there for all of that?

No.

She couldn’t change the past.

She had to look to the future, and right now, it was looking pretty bright.

[fly-pow-bye]

Powerpuff Girls 2016 - “Bubbles The Blue”

Written by: Haley Mancini

Written and Storyboarded by: Caitlin Vanarsdale, Angela Zhang

Directed by: Nick Jennings, Bob Boyle

No Eiffel 65 jokes here. Or Lord of the Rings.

This episode deals with a serious topic. While I had this interpretation since I first watched this episode, one of the head writers outright said it on their Twitter.

But anyway, here's a dolphin running into a wall. It is not that indicative of the rest of the episode.

Blossom: (with no sarcasm) Dolphins are sooo smart!

The joke is that animals are stupid. Buttercup gets into an argument with Blossom over whether or not dolphins can speak Spanish. Blossom and Buttercup decide to go to the animal expert: Bubbles. This may be a reference to Bubbles' ability to talk to animals, which I can appreciate. Also forgotten: this scene.

Just like the title says, Bubbles is blue. Not just in a "crying a lot" kind of way, but in a "lying in bed, circles under eyes, permanent frown" kind of way. Buttercup makes the assumption that she must be having a staring contest with the ceiling, but Bubbles corrects her and says that she's just sad today. The very thought of any emotion that isn't considered "bubbly" makes them shocked.

As in, "make another silly face inspired by those silly storyboards" shocked. At this point, it's just the show's style to have these faces. It does give PPG 2016 a style not a lot of cartoons have, but I would say there is a reason for that. They ask Bubbles various questions to why she's so sad. Is she tired? No. Is she bored? No. Is she hungry? No.

To be more specific, Buttercup pulls out a living chicken and a blowtorch. See, since Bubbles is too busy moping throughout the entirety of this episode, Buttercup gets to take over the job of doing the "so random" jokes. I didn't think this one was that bad, but I prefer the line that comes right after this.

Blossom: Are you sad because you keep thinking about your place in society, as the eyes of everyone looking to you for guidance begins to weigh heavily on your young soul, only to realize you were just one of the many leaves bending to the will of the wind in a never-ending race with the cruel mistress that is time, an illusionistic prison created by man, shackling us all to the dream we call life?

If you needed a signature quote for some social media site that still uses them, here's the best attempt at one I've seen out of this show. Bubbles just answers no to this, while Buttercup's jaw is dropped. One of the few subtle jokes with Buttercup, as I can now appreciate. Eventually, they get scared. Not because Bubbles has a serious medical condition I did not think this show was capable of portraying...

...but because the Professor randomly pops up out of nowhere. He's here to show off his "soundless slippers". The episode grinds to a halt so they can show an informerical. Does it have anything to do with the plot? Will it actually amount to anything? Is it even funny? Much like the Powerpuff Girls' questions, the answer is no.

Before the Professor can contribute to the actual plot, the hotline-cellphone rings. I am glad to say this season uses the cellphone often enough that I can count episodes that actually use it on two hands rather than one.

We cut to what should have been the opening scene for this episode: a giant armadillo having anger issues threatening Townsville. This comes complete with helicopters trying to stop him; I'm actually kind of surprised Townsville even bothers with funding for that. Well, maybe they have some reason now considering the Powerpuff Girls' success rate with monster punches, but still. Blossom and Buttercup show up to give him the old punch that needs to be covered up with a hit flash. The Harmadillo rolls up into a ball, and they get an idea seemingly pulled straight out of the original.

They then play catch with the rolled up armadillo. The original would have had them use a telephone pole and a baseball mitt sign, which would be more creative, but they have aura powers now. Buttercup uses a baseball bat aura, because you can use that as a weapon. Blossom uses a pillow aura, because they still have to stick with Blossom's theme of "things you can find at HomeGoods and/or Office Depot".

They call out to Bubbles to join in on the fun, but she’s still on the ground, still sad. Blossom and Buttercup wonder why she can still be not bubbly if Bubbles is her name, because how dare she have any other emotions! To be fair to them, this is no ordinary sadness, as we'll soon see.

We go into a musical segment, where Blossom and Buttercup try to woo that “sadness” with her favorite things. Blossom shows her Octi, a tea party, and other cute things…

...while Buttercup shows gross things like lint from a laundromat. I'll give them credit for the use of stock images this time; it enhances the contrast between the sensible items and the one from the new wacky girl.

This also plays into a theme with the episode. Both of them don't understand Bubbles' sadness, and try to use their own ways to try to "cure" it. What they do is not too far off from examples of what not to do when trying to help someone with depression. This doesn't seem out of character to me, because this could show their inexperience. I mean, they are just little kids, after all.

With the mindset of a little kid, their next assumption is that someone did this to her. Buttercup goes to Discount Jojo's place, and punches him right out of the shower. This scene reminds me that I could be watching Telephonies instead. Jojo does interrupt his lines to remind the viewer that while it's not his fault, he does think it would be a great idea. There's no foreshadowing here, it's just for the viewer to know that Jojo is still a villain, despite everything else.

Blossom also uses the idea that someone did this to Bubbles, but does it in a different way. She falls a little more into the example that these symptoms must be the result of something personal, which it is not.

Specifically, Blossom thinks it is her own fault as she gives her apology letter after apology letter, despite Bubbles outright telling her that she didn't do anything. This "I'm sorry for remaking the bed" one is the only one we actually see; either that one was the only idea they could think of, or they wasted all of their talent on the wacky Buttercup jokes.

Speaking of which, Buttercup then shows up with a happy ray gun. Thankfully, it doesn't work like the happy rays from the dancing lobsters from Painbow, it just puts a silly costume on whoever it shoots. Essentially, it's an attempt to try to hide the problem, and it doesn't work.

In an unrelated note, Blossom asks her where she got the ray gun in the first place, and we cutaway to a scene where Buttercup threatens Discount Jojo with a knuckle sandwich. This is far beyond "rascal" and more into "Him possession". In fact, how come Discount Jojo was the first villain they thought of when it comes to playing with people's emotions? It could have been Him, or Alle...yeah, maybe it was Jojo.

The Puffs in the wrong continue to ramble to Bubbles until they get interrupted by that running gag of the soundless slippers. We finally get to see the payoff to that, and it is just as great as the gag was.

Buttercup: (zaps the slippers) No.

Professor: Aww! My slippers!

Annoying thing happens constantly, Buttercup makes it go bye bye, joke over. It is better than nothing, which is how most of the running gags seem to end in this show, so at least I could give it that.

Blossom starts complaining to the Professor about her sad sister, and even pulls out the “she’s only doing this for attention” line. Unlike Buttercup's antics, Blossom's terrible reasoning of someone suffering from depression is realistic. Honestly, it shows that she is just as terrible as the new wacky girl when dealing with this. Who can possibly do something good with this?

Ultimately, it's the older and wiser that ends up being the voice of reason in this. This episode features a sadly rare occurence that the Professor actually acting like the respectful father figure he should be, being the voice of reason to his children. Even the soundless slippers gag plays into the "inventor" angle they have been, which is far closer to his character in the original than the "out of touch Sitcom Dad" I am far too familiar with.

Unfortunately, Blossom and Buttercup aren't there to witness this, as they are too busy with the Harmadillo again. Having been fed up about his constant whining, they decide that the best way to deal with him is to have Blossom tie him up in an aura net. Maybe it's a hammock, I don't know. They then make a combined aura of a stapler with a knife attached to the end. Considering we can't even show someone getting punched in this series unless its the girls getting punched, someone has to stop them.

It just so happens to be Bubbles, having her spirits slightly lifted from "not doing anything" by what is implied to be a speech from the father figure. Because the Harmadillo is having some emotional issues of his own, they are able to bond with each other. It may seem like this was a missed opportunity for the "talking to animals" power, but it would have done more harm than good.

Because Buttercup can't let a touching scene be, she starts to panic over the disease spreading. She then makes a chainsaw aura, persumably to cut both the armadillo and her own sister into little bits. I stand corrected: there is a worse way to deal with depression than telling them they're only doing it for attention. Blossom stops her, and tells her that maybe the real problem is that they decided not to listen to her. What an understatement.

This episode almost ends with this shot, which is a very good way to end an episode about feelings. It’s a quiet moment of them looking at the ocean. Before this episode, PPG 2016 seemingly had no clue on how to end an episode with a calm moment. Unfortunately, this episode does not disprove that.

Buttercup: I’m bored, what are we looking at?

(Blossom punches Buttercup into the water)

A deserved punishment, sure, but it was completely unnecessary. We can only hope the oceans also acts as holy water.

Does the title fit?

The title works as a pun; Bubbles happens to be the blue one, and she’s feeling blue.

How does it stack up?

I knew we were going to get some sort of "special episode" on a serious topic, and even the original can fail at such episodes. In the case of this episode, Bubbles The Blue actually handles the topic rather well, far better than I would ever expect out of this show.

There are problems that prevent this from being among the absolute least worst episodes; the episode had a tendency to repeat itself, the soundless slippers gag never amounted to anything, and Buttercup's antics are disturbing at worst and unnecessary at best.

Despite that, this episode goes in directions few reboot episodes do, and I have to commend it for that.

Next, I don't think Mary Poppins could fix this reboot's problems.

← Derby Dollies ☆ Deb O’Nair →

[oselatra]

On the value of art

I have a cousin who majored in dance. He flies Vipers for the Marines.

On the value of art

In response to an Arkansas Blog post on state Sen. Bart Hester's tweeted question of UA Little Rock's decision to advertise its dance program, "They lease a sign to encourage computer science degrees or math teachers? No they push for dance majors? Lots of hardworking Arkansans subsidizing this. Not ok.":

"It shouldn't be necessary to ask why the arts are worth fighting for, nor should it be necessary to answer such a question. The answer should be self-evident, making the question redundant. It is distressing, to put it mildly, to have reached a moment in the decline of the West at which the question is being asked and needs to be answered.

"Art can afford us exaltation ... the emotional force of great music, the profound effect of great words, the new ways of seeing we are shown by great images. It brings the extraordinary into ordinary life and nurtures and lifts up our spirits.

"It is telling that authoritarians and fanatics make the arts their first targets. Dictators the world over imprison writers; the Taliban banned song, dance, and theater; terrorist bombers attack music venues. Censorship and persecution are tyrants' ways of saying they know how important the arts are, how closely connected to liberty.

"Those of us lucky to live in free societies should value and support what the enemies of freedom fear. Without adequate funding, theaters close, orchestras disband, films are not made. The arts are strong and will endure, but artists need and deserve our support.

"Nourish the arts, and they will nourish us right back." — Salman Rushdie

John Gaudin

North Little Rock

I have a cousin who majored in dance. He flies Vipers for the Marines.

Vanessa

As a dancer, artist and dance teacher, Sen. Hester's comments about the UALR dance program do not sit lightly with me. The sign itself says "Unlimited Pathways." I think that is one of the greatest things about the arts. Dancers, musicians, artists, writers ... are always trying to push the limits and create new things. In the arts, we are always told to "think outside the box" and look at things in a different light to see the vast amount of possibilities. The world needs these creative minds just as much as we need our scientists, physicians, lawyers, etc.  Several years ago, if the university had have had a dance program at the time, I probably would have stayed in Little Rock for my college career, but instead I went to school out of state where I could get a degree in dance. And now I am proud to be back in Little Rock sharing my love for dance with my students and audiences. Dance has helped me to not limit myself and has given me so many wonderful opportunities in and out of Arkansas. I am currently teaching a blind woman ballet and will be starting to work with students at the Arkansas School for the Blind. I love that I can share my passion for dance with my home state and give back to a community that I grew up in. Those dance majors are the artists performing at Robinson Performance Hall, the actors/actresses on the stages of the Arkansas Repertory Theatre, The Weekend Theatre, the Children's Theatre and dancers who grace the stage at The Nutcracker each December. All of these things bring revenue to our state. Why limit that?

Mccartylauren1

If the "dance" was the "Two Step" and at the Electric Cowboy he'd be for it. Where seldom are minorities found he'd be for it.

Tucker Max

Oh, he's beyond backwoods. In fact he makes primitive Neanderthals look like a tribe of Einsteins. No, Bart, like President Trump, revels in his own truth. So what if it is diametrically opposed to fact? Bringing another reality to replace the present one is heaven on earth for these folks.

Maxifer

Coming from a Baptist background I know that all dancing leads right to mouth gasping, hair pulling, clothes-sofa-car seat smeary hot sex! Hot, hot, hot, hot sex! And in the mind of Bart Hester, prayer, blood-letting and leeches are the only medical treatment needed. He no doubt wishes white people could still own black slaves and believes that wife beating is recommended in order to promote a good Christian home. Jesus says, don't you know? I hope to die in Arkansas in the 21st century, but first the state needs to move out of the 19th century. Electing and re-electing assholes like Hester and Jason Rapert and Denny Altes will prevent that from ever happening. This country laughs at Arkansas, and it's not very hard to understand why.  One must wonder if Mrs. Hester was forced to undergo a clitoridectomy before the wedding?

DeathbyInches

Now, this Mr. Hester may be onto something, re wasteful expenditures!  As noted above, legislator per diem? Gee, don't think too many Wal-drones get money to travel to the place of their employment. CUT!  Home office tax-credit? They turned what was otherwise likely a little-used room in their house into an office. CUT! $40k a year for part-time work? In the interest of a living wage, how's about $15 per hour during the workday hours that the legislature is in session? CUT! He's right about ONE thing: "Lots of hardworking Arkansans subsidizing this! Not ok."

tsallenarng

Hester is the kind of guy that probably gets all weird feeling when he sees anything slightly artistic. He'd probably see the statue of David and make a penis joke.

RYD

In response to the Times' Feb. 8 feature on the new Windgate Center for Art and Design at UA Little Rock:

Sen. Bart Hester demands it shut down because he doesn't understand it.

TuckerMax

In response to the Arkansas Blog's post on Donald Trump's tweet that "lives were being shattered and destroyed by a mere allegation," apparently in defense of his former aide who was accused of abuse by two former spouses:

MAGA = back to the days when husbands can beat their wives with impunity.

Rush Lemming

In response to the Feb. 8 review of The Avenue restaurant in Hot Springs:

The duck confit might have been as good or even better than what you had in Paris. It also cost about twice as much. I'm in Paris now and just had duck confit at our favorite cafe, just a 10-minute walk from the Eiffel Tower. It was 12 Euros. And it was a larger piece than what's pictured here. Remember, this is freakin' Paris, not Hot Springs. Been to the Avenue once —and enjoyed the food. But thought the prices were nuts, especially for a mid-sized town in Arkansas. $26 duck? $28 halibut? Apparently that hasn't changed.

Big Fun

I do not hold with fruit and meat. Or fruit and fish. Fruit and fruit is fine. Or just fruit. But it's this degenerate mixing of the foodstuffs that is destroying America.

Carrick Patterson

In response to the Arkansas Blog post musings about the upcoming action on Medicaid expansion by the state legislature:

If A$a! thinks that failure to continue Medicaid expansion will blow a hole in the budget, wait till he gets a load of Drumpf's infrastructure plan that shifts costs to the states, bigly.

tsallenarng

On the value of art

[thethingssafhaslearnedsofar]

52 things I learned in 2019

Each year humanity produces 1,000 times more transistors than grains of rice and wheat combined. [Mark P Mills]

The maths of queuing are absolutely brutal and counter-intuitive. [John D Cook]

Emojis are starting to appear in evidence in court cases, and lawyers are worried: “When emoji symbols are strung together, we don’t have a reliable way of interpreting their meaning.” (In 2017, an Israeli judge had to decide if one emoji-filled message constituted a verbal contract) [Eric Goldman]

Harbinger customers are customers who buy products that tend to fail. They group together, forming harbinger zip codes. If households in those zip codes buy a product, it is likely to fail. If they back a political candidate, they are likely to lose the election. [Simester, Tucker & Yang]

Baijiu is the world’s most popular spirit, with 10bn litres sold each year, almost entirely in China. The second most popular spirit in the world is vodka, with just 5bn litres sold. [Feyi Fawehinmi]

A Python script, an Instagram account and quite a bit of free time can get you free meals in New York City. [Chris Buetti]

At least three private companies have fallen victim to ‘deep fake’ audio fraud. In each case, a computerised voice clone of the company CEO “called a senior financial officer to request an urgent money transfer.” [Kaveh Waddell, Jennifer A. Kingson]

Drunk shopping could be a $45bn /year industry, and only 6% of people regret their drunk purchases. [Zachary Crockett]

Placebos are so effective that placebo placebos work: A pain cream with no active ingredients worked even when not used by the patient. Just owning the cream was enough to reduce pain. [Victoria Wai-lanYeung]

Since the 1960s, British motorways have been deliberately designed by computer as series of long curves, rather than straight lines. This is done for both safety (less hypnotic) and aesthetic (“sculpture on an exciting, grand scale”) reasons. [Joe Moran]

Between 1880 and 1916, Ireland had its own timezone, which was 25m 21s behind Greenwich Mean Time. After the Easter Rising, the House of Commons in London introduced GMT in Ireland and abolished Dublin Mean Time [Elena Goukassian]

Drug names are changing: X and Z names (Prozac, Seroxat) are giving way to names ending in O or A (Natesto, Qsymia) which are more appealing to speakers of Romance languages in Europe and South America. [Pascaline Faure]

The UK male suicide rate is the lowest since accurate records began in 1981. [Office for National Statistics]

The goal of walking 10,000 steps per day may have originated when a Japanese pedometer manufacturer noticed that the 万 symbol (which means 10,000) looks a little like someone walking. The actual health merits of that number ‘have never been validated by research.’ [Amanda Mull]

People hate asking sensitive questions. However, it turns out that people don’t hate being asked sensitive questions. So talking around difficult questions in research interviews is a waste of time and money. [Hart, VanEpps, Schweitzer]

The Korean Police force includes five labradors who are clones of ‘Quinn’, a bomb-sniffing dog who found fame after finding a missing girl’s body in a 2007 kidnapping. [Kim Tong-hyung]

As mobile phones became mainstream in the US in the early 1990s, the murder rate fell sharply. Street drug dealing became less popular, so gang-related turf wars were less common. (Other factors were also involved, obviously.) [Alexis C. Madrigal]

Mechanical devices to cheat your phone pedometer (for health insurance fraud or vanity) are now all over AliExpress. [Matthew Brennan]

In 2017 Google and Facebook lost $100 million between them to one scammer who sent them fake invoices. [Jeff John Roberts] [found by TomBot*]

Teenagers with acne get higher marks, are more likely to complete college and, if female, eventually get paid more than people without teenage acne. [Hugo M. Mialon & Erik T. Nesson]

72% of classical musicians have taken beta blockers for performance anxiety. [Composed]

Black women in the United States die in childbirth at roughly the same rate as women in Mongolia. [Annie Lowrey]

Sometime in the 1990s, it seems the US forgot how to make a critical component of some nuclear warheads. [Nick Baumann]

“Mushrooms and truffles are fungi, more closely related to humans than they are to plants.” [Lynne Peskoe-Yang]

In the US Northwest, rain can damage the fruit on cherry trees. So helicopter pilots are paid to fly over the orchards, using their downdraft to dry the fruit as it ripens. For the pilots, it’s a risky but potentially profitable job. [Maria Langer]

Gravitricity is a Scottish startup planning to store energy by lifting huge weights up a disused mine shaft when electricity is cheap, dropping them down to generate power when it is expensive. Using a 12,000 tonne weight (roughly the weight of the Eiffel tower), it should be half as expensive as equivalent lithium ion battery. [Jillian Ambrose]

Spotify pays by the song. Two three minute songs are twice as profitable as one six minute song. So songs are getting shorter. [Dan Kopf]

Fashion++ is a Facebook-funded computer vision project that looks at a photo of your outfit and suggests ‘minimal edits for outfit improvement’ like tucking in a shirt or removing an accessory. [Wei-Lin Hsiao & co] (In 2019, Fluxx helped launch Vogue Business.)

Three million students at US schools don’t have the internet at home. [Michael Melia & co]

No babies born in Britain in 2016 were named Nigel. [Jonathan Ore] (Correction: Robert Colvile, who broke the original story, points out that there could have been one or two Nigels in 2016 — the ONS only reports names with three or more examples)

Using machine learning, researchers can now predict how likely an individual is to be involve in a car accident by looking at the image of their home address on Google Street View. [Kinga Kita-Wojciechowska]

In 2018, the Nigerian government spent more on subsidies for petrol than on health, education, or defence. [Andrew S Nevin]

According to WaterAid research, women spend 97 billion hours a year looking for a safe place to go to the loo. That equals 46 million working years, which is the same workforce as Germany, the fourth largest economy in the world. [Caroline Criado Perez via Tanya Gold]

28% of people like the smell of (their own) urine after eating asparagus.[Rolf Degen]

AliBaba is investing $15m to research Chinese dialects, hoping to improve the performance of their voice recognition systems. [Emma Lee]

At least half of the effort of most AI projects goes on data labelling, and that’s often done in rural Indian villages. [Anand Murali]

Worldwide, growth in the fragrance industry is lagging behind cosmetics and skincare products. Why? ‘You can’t smell a selfie’. [Andrea Felsted and Sarah Halzack]

CD sales still make up 78% of music revenue in Japan (compared with less than 30% in the UK). Japanese pop fans have been encouraged to buy multiple copies of their favourite releases to win rewards (buy 2,000 copies, win a night at a hot spring with your favourite star). One 32 year-old fan was charged with illegally dumping 585 copies of a CD on the side of a mountain. [Mark Mulligan] [found by TomBot*]

Two disgruntled game developers wrote a script to generate and release identical but differently-named slot machine apps (sample names: Deer Antler Spray Slots, 3D Ravioli Slots). Eventually, the slot machine apps earned them $50,000. [Alex Schwartz & Ziba Scott]

80% of prisoners released late 2018 in a presidential pardon have opted to return to Kinshasa’s infamous Makala jail due to lack of means to live. [Olivier Kalume]

Disco, a Japanese high tech manufacturing company, has introduced an internal billing and payment system, where every cost is charged back to workers. Renting a conference room costs $100. “People really cut back on useless meetings,” says one staffer. [Yuji Nakamura & Yuki Furukawa]

A man who bought the personalised number plate NULL has received over $12,000 of parking fines, because the system records ‘NULL’ when no numberplate has been recorded. [Jack Morse]

The islands of Orkney generate 120% of their energy needs using wind and solar. However, 57% of homes in Orkney are in fuel poverty, where a household spends more than 10% of income on fuel. [Chris Silver] (This year I worked briefly with Community Energy Scotland on a project with Energy Systems Catapult)

Some blind people can understand speech that is almost three times faster than the fastest speech sighted people can understand. They can use speech synthesisers set at at 800 words per minute (conversational speech is 120–150 wpm). Research suggests that a section of the brain that normally responds to light is re-mapped in blind people to process sound. [Austin Hicks & R Douglas Fields]

SpottedRisk is a disgrace insurance company built on data: “Firstborns are at slightly higher risk of disgrace, as are those… who’ve suffered recent breakups — until the passage of time sends the bereft partner back down the ‘risk-decay curve.’” [Boris Kachka]

SDAM (Severely Deficient Autobiographical Memory) is a rare syndrome where otherwise healthy, high-functioning people are unable to remember events from their own life. There is also an exhausting syndrome called Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory, where people can remember precise details about every single day of their life. [Palumbo & Alain]

“Polling by phone has become very expensive, as the number of Americans willing to respond to unexpected or unknown callers has dropped. In the mid-to-late-20th century response rates were as high as 70%… [falling to] a mere 6% of the people it tried to survey in 2018.” [The Economist]

In 2012, only one sports team (Manchester United) was worth more than $2bn. Today, there are 52 sports teams worth more than $2bn. [Kurt Badenhausen]

Flamin’ Hot Cheetos were invented by a cleaner at a Frito-Lay factory. He’s now VP of multicultural sales for PepsiCo America. [Zachary Crockett]

Six reluctant Chinese hitmen who hired each other to carry out a murder went to jail when their outsourcing scheme collapsed. [Eric Cheung]

Fast fashion is hitting the wiping rags businesses, because some clothing is just too badly made to be sold as rags. [Adam Minter] (In January, Fluxx worked with Fibretrace to develop new ways to make the circular economy work in fashion.)

Asking ‘What questions do you have for me?’ can be dramatically more effective than ‘Any questions?’ at the end of a talk. (Many more good tips in this thread. [Jacqueline Antonovich]

[cathrynschof-blog]

Musee De l’Homme: Hic et Nunc (Here and Now)

Odds are if you are attempting to get off of the Metro at Trocadero in the center of Paris, you are likely going to see a little old building by the name of Tour Eiffel. It’s a beautiful view of the tower from Trocadero and the area is often brimming with people that are either taking pictures of it, taking pictures of themselves, or trying to sell you a tiny version of dearest Eiffel that lights up in multiple colors. (Non, merci! Non, merci!) 

It’s funny because the building that so many people pass by on their way to the famous Perisian attraction is the Musee de l’Homme, or “Museum of Man”. This was, in fact, where I was headed on this particular day. 

For a little bit of history, Musee de l’Homme was originally arrected in 1882 as the Musee D’Ethnographie de Trocadero and took an anthropological look at humans and cultures through the objects that they created. While the museum had a positive focus on diversity through the physicality of cultures and time and had some interesting exhibits, it lacked funds from the start and soon became a place of “oddities”. 

In 1928 an anthropologist named Paul Rivet took over the struggling museum and turned the physical and anthropological focus to a social and ethnological one. He also worked to add an educational spin on the place to include a multidisciplinary theme that would eventually influence the next “life” of the museum.

Found at (Image is not mine)

In 1937 the new Musee de l’Homme was founded in place of  Musee D’Ethnographie de Trocadero as a way to combat racism in the 20th century. With this new mission for a place where everyone could be represented, the desires of Paul Rivet came to life. He states in regard to the opening of Musee de l’Homme:

 “By creating this title, I meant to indicate that everything that concerns the human being, in all his many aspects, should and could find a place within the collections […] This involved gathering in one vast summary all of the results acquired by the specialists, forcing them to compare their conclusions, to verify them and to back them up with the findings of their colleagues. Humanity is one and indivisible, not only in terms of space, but also in terms of time,”--This man was wise!! 

With some context in place, lets talk about the temporary exhibition in question. 

The exhibit Hic et Nunc (Here and Now) was a small portion of a larger exhibit that focused on recognizing the people of France—all the people of France. This was especially important in recognizing those that due to religion, racial or cultural issues are not actively seen or known. Through celebrating the 70th anniversary of the signing of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which was signed in this very building, this idea was highlighted in the recognition of immigrants in France, their stories, and their identities. 

The artist of Hic et Nunc, Clarisse Rebotier, used a series of thirty black and white photographs of immigrants and refugees that are displayed close together on a single white wall. The photographs show the subject or subjects standing in front of an out of focus Eiffel Tower that can be seen from the steps of the musuem’s front side. All of the photos are touching in some way and written next to each one in pencil is the name of each model.

Because of the size of each photo, as well as how the frames touched in various places, I viewed the wall as one piece of work--connected. Each photo was of the same view, an iconic image of not only Paris, but France as a whole, which growned and gave context to the photos. Who were these people? Why are they standing in front of the Eiffel Tower? What does this mean as a whole?

I saw the image as a way of showcasing the place each person held in France: an important one, and one that is often seen is illegitimate. By showing immigrants and refugees standing tall next to an image of France, the artist is giving them their “citizenship” back. In addition to the image itself, Rebotier is choosing to name the subjects of each photo through the informal style of pure hand written pencil. By doing this, I saw the work as humanizing the people and giving them an identity in the image. 

Looking at the photos made me want to learn more about the people represented and their personal stories by showing them in a context that related to them, but there isn’t always the opportunity to do both. The artist made the choice to showcase each person or pair in front of such an iconic structure that we can’t help but feel that the statement is less about the individual person, but the idea that they are each a part of France regardless of their status as citizens or where they came from. However, accepting them as part of this great country should not be to disregard a person’s history, family, or heritage which was highlighted in the way that each person was named. 

So who are these people “here and now”? I see them as people that come from a diverse range of places and cultures, but somehow ended up here in Paris. Why? Each person has their own story to tell, and while they tell their story, we can accept them for where they come from, where they are now, and where they are going. 

Let’s welcome each other. 

[travelonlinetips-blog]

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Notre Dame will rise from the ashes even greater than before – Lonely Planet's travel blog

Wonderings: rambles through and reflections on travel… this month, James Kay says that Notre Dame will emerge from the recent fire as an even greater monument © Joe Davis / Lonely Planet

Many years ago, I climbed the spiral staircase that winds its way up to the balcony connecting the two towers of the Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris’ western facade. From there, you can see many of the city’s greatest landmarks: the Eiffel Tower, the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur, the Arc de Triomphe, the River Seine flowing past Île de la Cité.

A close inspection of the gargoyles and chimeras festooning the towers is just as engrossing as that far-reaching, wide-angle view. Jutting out from the walls, the gargoyles’ long necks channel water away from the ancient stone; the chimeras – horned, winged, taloned, feathered; beasts that never were – are there to ward off evil.

But none of them could protect the 12th-century building from the fury of a different element yesterday. Mercifully, the towers still stand, but the fire which began in the afternoon and raged through the night consumed the roof and toppled the spire.

Fire in the heart

I feel for the Parisians who lined the banks of the Seine to witness the conflagration, those vaulting flames mirrored in their tears. So do millions of other well-wishers around the world, for this is a building etched into the collective consciousness, a Unesco World Heritage site visited by millions of people a year.

Hyperbole aside, its destruction is a true tragedy. Notre Dame is the heart not just of Paris, but also of France, and not in a merely abstract sense: the brass plate set into the ground outside the western facade marks the city centre and the point from which the distance from Paris to all destinations is measured.

But, as we mourn, let’s remember that this heart will beat again.

Firefights battling the blaze yesterday as it spread across the roof of Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris © Pierre Suu / Getty Images

If you look north from our offices in London, you can see across the River Thames to the towers of St Paul’s Cathedral’s west front. The cathedral – a place of comparable cultural clout to Notre Dame – is now in its fourth incarnation. Sir Christopher Wren’s masterpiece was built in the late 17th century after its predecessor was destroyed… by the Great Fire of London.

Contemporary accounts describe molten lead pouring from the roof of Old St Paul’s into the warren of streets below, causing the pavements to glow like flows of lava. So intense was the inferno that witnesses a furlong away – about 200 metres – could not face the flames.

Symbols of resilience

It took 35 years for the St Paul’s we know today to rise from the ashes – but rise it did, an irrepressible phoenix, just as it had from previous fires in 962, 1087 and 1561.

Furthermore, I’d argue that with each rebuild, just as the physical cathedral became a little bigger, so did its psychogeographical scale – that is, the amount of space it occupies in our minds. Along with all the other things for which it stands, St Paul’s became a potent symbol of the city’s resilience.

While I don’t speak for them, I’d wager that the residents of Utrecht, Barcelona and Cologne feel much the same way about St Martin’s, Santa Maria Del Mar and Cologne Cathedral respectively, all of which were ravaged by, and reborn from, fire at one time or another in their long histories.

It won’t take 35 years to restore Notre Dame, which has survived revolutions and wars, and hosted the crowning of kings and the coronation of emperors. French president Emmanuel Macron has already launched an international campaign and hundreds of millions of euros are pouring into the reconstruction fund.

And whenever this storied structure does reopen to the public, its hold on our imaginations will have grown, not diminished. So let’s look forward to the day when the bells of Our Lady ring out over the rooftops of Paris once more.

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[spicynbachili1]

World’s longest sea crossing: Hong Kong-Zhuhai bridge opens

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Media captionFlying over the world’s longest sea bridge

Chinese President Xi Jinping has officially opened the world’s longest sea crossing bridge, nine years after construction first began.

Including its access roads, the bridge spans 55km (34 miles) and connects Hong Kong to Macau and the mainland Chinese city of Zhuhai.

The bridge has cost about $20bn (£15.3bn) and seen several delays.

Construction has been dogged by safety issues – at least 18 workers have died on the project, officials say.

Mr Xi attended the opening ceremony of the bridge which took place in Zhuhai along with the leaders of Hong Kong and Macau on Tuesday.

The bridge will open to regular traffic on Wednesday.

What’s so special about this bridge?

The crossing connects three key coastal cities in southern China – Hong Kong, Macau and Zhuhai.

The bridge, designed to withstand earthquakes and typhoons, was built using 400,000 tonnes of steel, enough to build 60 Eiffel Towers.

Images of the mega bridge

About 30km of its total length crosses the sea of the Pearl River delta. To allow ships through, a 6.7km section in the middle dips into an undersea tunnel that runs between two artificial islands.

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption One of two artificial islands that have been built as part of the multi-billion-dollar project

The remaining sections are link roads, viaducts and land tunnels connecting Zhuhai and Hong Kong to the main bridge.

Why has it been built?

It is part of China’s plan to create a Greater Bay Area, including Hong Kong, Macau and nine other cities in southern China.

The area is currently home to 68 million people.

In the past, travelling between Zhuhai and Hong Kong would take up to four hours – the new bridge cuts this down to 30 minutes.

Can anyone drive across the bridge?

No. Those who want to cross the bridge must obtain special permits, allocated by a quota system. And all vehicles will pay a toll.

The bridge is not served by public transport, so private shuttle buses will also ply the route. There is no rail link.

Authorities initially estimated that 9,200 vehicles would cross the bridge every day. They later lowered their estimations after new transport networks were built in the region.

What are people saying about it?

There’s been a great deal of criticism of the project.

The bridge has been dubbed the “bridge of death” by some local media. At least nine workers on the Hong Kong side have died and officials told BBC News Chinese that nine had died on the mainland side, too.

Hundreds of workers have also been injured during the construction.

You might also be interested in:

Image copyright Getty Images

Image caption At least 18 people have died working on the bridge

There have also been concerns about the environmental impact.

Environmental groups say the project may have caused serious harm to marine life in the area, including the critically rare Chinese white dolphin.

The number of dolphins seen in Hong Kong waters has decreased from 148 to 47 in the past 10 years, and they are now absent from the waters near the bridge, according to the Hong Kong branch of the World Wide Fund for Nature (WWF).

“The project has made irreversible damage to the sea,” said Samantha Lee, Assistant Director of Ocean Conservation at the WWF. “I am worried that the number will never rise again.”

Image copyright AFP

Image caption It is rare to see Chinese White Dolphins around the bridge after years of construction, say environmental groups

Is it going to make up its costs?

The bridge, surrounding link roads and artificial islands cost a staggering $20bn to build – the main bridge alone cost $6.92bn.

Chinese officials say it will generate up to 10 trillion yuan ($1.44tn; £1tn) for the economy, but one Hong Kong lawmaker cast doubt on that figure.

“I am not so sure either how the bridge can sustain itself if not many cars are using it,” Tanya Chan told BBC News Chinese.

“I am pretty sure that we would never earn that [construction cost] back.”

According to an estimate by BBC Chinese, the bridge will only earn around $86m in tolls per year.

In fact, the bridge’s maintenance costs would already take away a third of this income.

Critics have called the bridge a “big white elephant” that guarantees no economic return. Others have said its main purpose is symbolic, ensuring Hong Kong is physically connected to the mainland.

Additional reporting by Lam Cho Wai, BBC Chinese.

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[mikaelsondiaries]

An Ideas Overview On Down-to-earth Japan Strategies

ทัวร์ญี่ปุ่นเกาหลี ตาราง ทัวร์ เกาหลี

Locating Guidance In Astute Systems

“THANK YOU for the beautiful welcome China! @FLOTUS Melania and I will never forget it!” wrote Trump, who also posted an AFP photo of his visit. He also tweeted another warning against North Korea, saying Pyongyang “has interpreted America’s past restraint as weakness. This would be a fatal miscalculation. Do not underestimate us. AND DO NOT TRY US.” In addition to discussing North Korea, Trump plans to prod Xi over trade but the two leaders are also expected to oversee the signing of $20 billion in deals between US and Chinese companies. Hours earlier, in an address to the South Korean parliament, Trump gave a preview of what he will ask Beijing to do regarding North Korea. “You cannot support, you cannot supply, you cannot accept,” he said, urging China and Russia to fully implement UN sanctions, downgrade diplomatic relations and sever all trade and technology ties. Donald Trump addressed the National Assembly in South Korea, a key US ally in the struggle with the nuclear-armed North © AFP / Laurence CHU , John SAEKI , Gal ROMA A senior White House official said China is doing “much more than it’s ever done in the past” but it could try harder to curb trade at the border with North Korea.

For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit https://www.capitalfm.co.ke/news/2017/11/trump-china-talks-north-koreas-cruel-dictatorship/

Cat c 450ribu :") baru juga bayar ikon kemaren w yak :") belon lagi ly tour pasfi ticketing akhir taon :") ini ke korea taon depan wacana doang ini :")

Dii @Dii

A Simple A-z On Elegant Plans In

Riding the wave of rising popularity, the French club with the Eiffel Tower logo took advantage of the Asian tour to open a permanent office in Singapore. "With the growth the club has enjoyed in recent years, along with the arrival of our two superstars Neymar and Mbappe, we thought that now was a good time to do it, it was the right moment," said Sébastien Wasels, the club's Asia Pacific director. He said the Qatari-owned club with ambitions to dominate Europe needs the base to handle rising Asian growth opportunities. And the club that could face sanctions by European football's governing body Uefa for allegedly violating regulations over spending limits needs to significantly boost its income. PSG says that it has signed several commercial deals in the region including a multi-million euro partnership with marketing agency Desports for sponsorship and licensing rights in China and Hong Kong. The club has also pinpointed three geographical growth areas in Asia and plans to hire a team of five expert locals to focus on business development opportunities in China, South Korea/Japan, and Southeast Asia/Oceania. During the club's brief summer Asia stay that included matches in Singapore and the French Super Cup final against Monaco in Shenzhen, PSG hosted a range of promotional events. The included a cooking class by the club's Brazilian defender Marquinhos and a training session for young players at China's "PSG Academy" by former star player Maxwell, now part of the PSG management team. PSG's eSports section was also brought into play to woo the younger generation, hosting a Fifa video tournament for 400,000 participants on local platforms to boost the club's active gaming sector. PSG's social media footprint in Asia is rapidly expanding, says the club.

For the original version including any supplementary images or video, visit https://www.nation.co.ke/sports/football/French-glamour-club-PSG-turns-to-China-fans-funds/1102-4703130-v1fe9g/index.html

[totravelistoliveco]

In Global Megacities, Life is a Kaleidoscope of Stories

More than half of Earth’s citizens live in urban areas. This photographer challenged himself to capture cities’ essence in a single image.

 More people live in cities than ever before. According to the United Nations Population Fund, over half of the world’s citizens now live in an urban area—a figure expected to reach nearly 70 percent by 2050. Globally, one in eight of those city dwellers lives in a megacity, defined by the UN as a place with more than 10 million people.

That’s why I started this series, which I call “Metropolis.” I wanted to focus on the UN statistics—and show what they actually look like. So from 2007 to 2015 I photographed megacities and documented the dynamic process of urbanization.

I asked myself several questions: How can people live in cities that are so crowded, hectic, and chaotic? What are the differences among these megacities? And what do they have in common?

All my photos are shot on film. My aim is to encapsulate megacity life in a single photograph—one panoramic, kaleidoscopic image. All the photos in this series are multilayered: The longer you look, especially at large prints, the more you see. I’ve pored over these pictures a thousand times, but I still manage to find new stories and elements each time. I hope you will too.

Story and Photographs by Martin Roemers

[wallpaperpaintings]

Here’s What People Are Saying About Burnett Oil Painting | Burnett Oil Painting

MICHIGAN (CBS DETROIT) – Looking for some adorning news? Scroll through this embly to see how adulation and abutment are displayed for and by the Ascension Michigan healthcare heroes.

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The Lake Michigan Credit Union (LMCU) ociation affiliated calm to accession $50,000 for healthcare. It’s the sixth year that LMCU has organized their Band Calm campaign, auspicious embly and agents embly throughout Michigan and Southwest Florida to accord any amount.

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Ascension St. John Hospital is allowance families acquire the accident of a admired one through a anew accustomed End-of-Life Afflication Team. With the abutment of leadership, the

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