#forces de la nature

[lamarchesacasati]

1935 Man Ray (1890-1976), Marchesa Luisa Casati dressed as Empress Elisabeth of Austria (Sissi), with “Flick” and “Flock” as a back-ground, at the Beaumont Ball.

She was a force of nature and made her mark on everyone she met, exerting a magnetism on her contemporaries. The marquise used the public realm as a theatre scene of a play where she was very much the star. Her every public appearance was a true show, since she wanted to be, as she said “a living work of art”.

Sotheby’s

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - June 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $Kaybarr1735! And if you tip me and give me a way to contact you, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week!

1. Victory for Same-Sex Marriage in Thailand

“Thailand’s Senate voted 130-4 today to pass a same-sex marriage bill that the lower house had approved by an overwhelming majority in March. This makes Thailand the first country in Southeast Asia, and the second in Asia, to recognize same-sex relationships. […] The Thai Marriage Equality Act […] will come into force 120 days after publication in the Royal Gazette. It will stand as an example of LGBT rights progress across the Asia-Pacific region and the world.”

2. One of world’s rarest cats no longer endangered

“[The Iberian lynx’s] population grew from 62 mature individuals in 2001 to 648 in 2022. While young and mature lynx combined now have an estimated population of more than 2,000, the IUCN reports. The increase is largely thanks to conservation efforts that have focused on increasing the abundance of its main food source - the also endangered wild rabbit, known as European rabbit. Programmes to free hundreds of captive lynxes and restoring scrublands and forests have also played an important role in ensuring the lynx is no longer endangered.”

3. Planning parenthood for incarcerated men

“[M]any incarcerated young men missed [sex-ed] classroom lessons due to truancy or incarceration. Their lack of knowledge about sexual health puts them at a lifelong disadvantage. De La Cruz [a health educator] will guide [incarcerated youths] in lessons about anatomy and pregnancy, birth control and sexually transmitted infections. He also explores healthy relationships and the pitfalls of toxic masculinity. […] Workshops cover healthy relationships, gender and sexuality, and sex trafficking.”

4. Peru puts endemic fog oasis under protection

“Lomas are unique ecosystems relying on marine fog that host rare and endemic plants and animal species. […] The Peruvian government has formally granted conservation status to the 6,449-hectare (16,000-acre) desert oasis site[….] The site, the first of its kind to become protected after more than 15 years of scientific and advocacy efforts, will help scientists understand climatic and marine cycles in the area[, … and] will be protected for future research and exploration for at least three decades.”

5. Religious groups are protecting Pride events — upending the LGBTQ+ vs. faith narrative

“In some cases, de-escalation teams stand as a physical barrier between protesters and event attendees. In other instances, they try to talk with protesters. The goal is generally to keep everyone safe. Leigh was learning that sometimes this didn’t mean acting as security, but doing actual outreach. That might mean making time and space to listen to hate speech. It might mean offering food or water. […] After undergoing Zoom trainings this spring, the members of some 120 faith organizations will fan out across more than 50 Pride events in 16 states to de-escalate the actions of extremist anti-LGBTQ+ hate groups.”

6. 25 years of research shows how to restore damaged rainforest

“For the first time, results from 25 years of work to rehabilitate fire-damaged and heavily logged rainforest are now being presented. The study fills a knowledge gap about the long-term effects of restoration and may become an important guide for future efforts to restore damaged ecosystems.”

7. Audubon and Grassroots Carbon Announce First-of-its-Kind Partnership to Reward Landowners for Improving Habitats for Birds while Building Healthy Soils

“Participating landowners can profit from additional soil carbon storage created through their regenerative land management practices. These practices restore grasslands, improve bird habits, build soil health and drive nature-based soil organic carbon drawdown through the healthy soils of farms and ranches. […] Additionally, regenerative land management practices improve habitats for birds. […] This partnership exemplifies how sustainable practices can drive positive environmental change while providing tangible economic benefits for landowners.”

8. Circular food systems found to dramatically reduce greenhouse gas emissions, require much less agricultural land

“Redesigning the European food system will reduce agricultural land by 44% while dramatically reducing greenhouse gas emissions from agriculture by 70%. This reduction is possible with the current consumption of animal protein. “Moreover, animals are recyclers in the system. They can recycle nutrients from human-inedible parts of the organic waste and by-products in the food system and convert them to valuable animal products," Simon says.”

9. Could Treating Injured Raptors Help Lift a Population? Researchers found the work of rehabbers can have long-lasting benefits

“[“Wildlife professionals”] tend to have a dismissive attitude toward addressing individual animal welfare,” [… but f]or most raptor species, they found, birds released after rehabilitation were about as likely to survive as wild birds. Those released birds can have even broader impacts on the population. Back in the wild, the birds mate and breed, raising hatchlings that grow up to mate and breed, too. When the researchers modeled the effects, they found most species would see at least some population-level benefits from returning raptors to the wild.”

10. Indigenous people in the Amazon are helping to build bridges & save primates

“Working together, the Reconecta Project and the Waimiri-Atroari Indigenous people build bridges that connect the forest canopy over the BR-174 road[….] In the first 10 months of monitoring, eight different species were documented — not only monkeys such as the golden-handed tamarin and the common squirrel monkey (Saimiri sciureus), but also kinkajous (Potos flavus), mouse opossums (Marmosops sp.), and opossums (Didelphis sp.).”

Bonus: A rare maneless zebra was born in the UK

June 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[a-lexia11]

Crossing the line (part 2)

Ingrid Engen x Putellas!reader

Alexia Putellas x sister!reader

Word count:Around 4k

Warning:some angst

Part 1, Part 3

The days that followed were a whirlwind of emotions. Ingrid and you began texting—nothing too serious, just light conversation, sharing random thoughts and funny memes.

But even through the screen, you felt something shift. Each message from her made you smile, your heart race, and gave you hope that maybe, just maybe, this could turn into something more.

Yet with each text, a sense of guilt started creeping in.You were hiding something from Alexia, and you knew deep down she wouldn’t be okay with it. The more Ingrid and you talked, the heavier that secret felt, like a weight pressing down on you.

You tried to act normal around Alexia, but it was difficult. Every time she asked about your day or what you’ve been up to, you had to hold back from mentioning Ingrid. Lying to her felt wrong, but you didn’t see any other option.

If she knew—if she even suspected—that you had a huge crush on Ingrid, especially after you exchanged numbers and started texting constantly, she would step in without hesitation.

Alexia’s protective nature would take over, and she’d end things before you even had a chance to figure out what this could be with Ingrid.

The texts between Ingrid and you weren’t anything overtly romantic, but there was an undeniable undertone. A lingering question in every exchange

A “what if” that neither of you said out loud but both of you seemed to feel. There was something simmering beneath the surface, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

——

One evening, after an exhausting day, you found yourself lying on your bed, phone in hand. Ingrid had just sent you a photo of her latest painting—an incredible piece bursting with vibrant colors and raw emotion.

You admired the artwork, but more than that, you found yourself admiring her—someone so strong, talented, and kind, someone who seemed to draw you in deeper with every passing day.

Just as you were about to reply to Ingrid's message, your phone buzzed again. It was a call from Alexia. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Hola, Alexia” you greeted, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Hola, cariño” she responded, her voice bright and full of warmth. “¿Qué estás haciendo?” (What are you up to?)

“Solo descansando” you replied, glancing at Ingrid’s message again “¿Y tú?” (Just relaxing,What about you?)

“Acabo de terminar de cenar con algunas de las chicas” Alexia said softly. “Pensé en llamar a mi hermanita favorita” (Just finished dinner with some of the girls. Thought I’d check in on my favorite little sister.)

A smile tugged at your lips, but the weight of the secret you were keeping made it hard to fully enjoy the moment. “¡Oh, le diré a Alba que dijiste eso!” you teased, hoping to keep things light. (Oh, I'm telling Alba you said that)

She laughed, the sound comforting and familiar. “De todos modos, estaba pensando… ha pasado un tiempo desde que tuvimos un buen rato de hermanas. ¿Qué te parece si vamos a cenar este fin de semana? Solo nosotras dos.” (Anyway, I was thinking... it’s been a while since we’ve had some proper sister time. How about we grab dinner this weekend? Just the two of us)

The idea of a quiet evening with Alexia should have made you happy, but your heart sank.

Spending time with her, knowing you were hiding something that could hurt her, felt like a betrayal. Yet, there was no way you could say no without raising suspicion.

“Sí, suena genial,” you said, forcing your voice to stay steady. “¿El sábado?” (Yeah, that sounds great, Saturday?)

“¡Perfecto! Haré una reserva en algún lugar bonito. Te lo mereces.” (Perfect! I’ll make a reservation somewhere nice. You deserve it.)

Her words only made the guilt gnaw at you harder. “Gracias, Ale. Estoy deseando que llegue” (Thanks, Ale. I’m looking forward to it)

“Te extraño, Y/N,” she said, her voice soft and sincere. “Las cosas han estado tan locas últimamente con el fútbol. Siento que no he pasado suficiente tiempo contigo.” (I miss you, Y/N. Things have been so crazy lately with football. I feel like I haven’t spent enough time with you.)

Her words hit you harder than you expected. Alexia had always been there for you, always protective, always your biggest supporter.

Now, you were keeping something from her that she would never expect. “Yo también te extraño,” you said quietly, your throat tight with guilt. (I miss you too)

“Bueno, solucionaremos eso este fin de semana,” she promised, her tone lightening again. “Te enviaré los detalles más tarde. Te quiero, cariño.” (Well, we’ll fix that this weekend. I’ll text you the details later. I love you)

“También te quiero, Alexia.” (I love you too, Alexia)

After hanging up, you sat still for a long moment, staring down at your phone. Your lock screen showed an old photo of the three of you—Alexia, Alba, and you as a baby.

In the picture, Alexia was holding you, kissing your cheek, while Alba smiled brightly at the camera, clutching your tiny hand.

The image filled you with warmth, but also deepened the ache in your chest.

How could you keep this from Alexia? Eventually, she would find out, and the thought of how much it would hurt her weighed heavily on you. Disappointing her, breaking her trust—it was something you couldn’t bear.

But at the same time, you couldn’t deny what you felt for Ingrid. Every conversation, every laugh you shared, made your feelings grow stronger.

The spark between you two was undeniable, and it made you feel more alive than you had in ages. You couldn’t just walk away from that, even if the risk was high.

You sighed deeply, running a hand through your hair, lost in the swirl of emotions. Your phone buzzed again, and your heart leaped, expecting it to be Alexia texting you details about dinner.

But it wasn’t.

It was Ingrid.

Ingrid: Hey, you still awake?

Your heart jumped a little when you saw her message. You hesitated briefly before quickly typing a reply.

Y/N: Yeah, I’m up. What’s going on?

Her response was almost instant.

Ingrid: You didn’t answer my last message, so I just wanted to check if you were asleep—and see how you’re doing.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, even as the guilt you’d been carrying gnawed at you. Somehow, Ingrid always had a way of making things feel lighter, even when everything was complicated.

Y/N: I’m good. Just relaxing. What about you?

Ingrid: Same. Been thinking about you, actually. Remember when we hung out at the park? I really loved that day.

Your heart fluttered at her words. Knowing she was thinking of you, too, made something in your chest stir.

Y/N: Yeah, me too. That was a really great time.

There was a short pause before her next message appeared.

Ingrid: I was wondering... how about we grab coffee again sometime? Or maybe something more? Like dinner?

Your breath caught in your throat. Dinner? Was this her way of asking you out?

A big part of you wanted to say yes right away. But the other part, the one weighed down with guilt and worry about Alexia, hesitated.

You stared at her message for what felt like an eternity, fingers hovering over the keyboard, before finally making a decision.

Y/N: I’d love to.

As soon as you hit send, a mix of excitement and dread washed over you. You were walking a fine line now, and you knew it.

But you couldn’t stop yourself. You wanted to see where things with Ingrid would go, even if it meant more secrets.

Ingrid: Great! How about Saturday evening?

Your heart sank a little. Saturday—your dinner plans with Alexia. Panic surged through you, but you quickly pulled yourself together.

Y/N: Actually, I have plans with my sister on Saturday. How about Sunday instead?

Ingrid: Sunday works! Let’s make it a date, then. 😊

A date. That word sent a rush of excitement through you, but it also tightened the knot of anxiety in your stomach.

This was it—you were crossing the line, stepping into something that might hurt Alexia if she found out.

But it was too late. You were already in too deep, and part of you didn’t want to pull back.

Y/N: I’m looking forward to it. 😊

Ingrid: Same here. See you Sunday. Sweet dreams, Y/N.

Y/N: Sweet dreams, Ingrid.

You set your phone down, leaning back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling.

Your mind was racing, spinning with everything that had happened recently. You were torn—caught between your loyalty to Alexia and the undeniable feelings you were developing for Ingrid. And you didn’t know how to make sense of either.

All you knew for certain was that Sunday couldn’t come soon enough.

——

Sunday arrived sooner than you had expected, bringing with it a whirlwind of emotions that you could hardly contain.

As you got ready, the nerves were almost overwhelming, but excitement pulsed just beneath the surface.

You spent Saturday evening with Alexia, trying your best to act normal as you laughed and reminisced over dinner.

It was like old times, just the two of you—but all the while, a gnawing guilt tugged at your chest.

You couldn’t tell her. Not yet. The weight of the secret was almost suffocating, but you pushed it down. You had agreed to the date with Ingrid, and despite the turmoil, part of you was incredibly excited.

It had been so long since you’d been on a real date, and Ingrid… well, she was someone you hadn’t expected to feel this strongly about.

You decided to meet at a small, cozy restaurant near the city center. It was intimate, perfect for a quiet evening, away from prying eyes.

You arrived a little early, trying to calm the nervous fluttering in your stomach as you checked your phone repeatedly. You were barely paying attention when you looked up and saw her.

Ingrid approached, looking effortlessly stunning. She wore a simple black dress that hugged her in all the right places, with a light jacket draped over her shoulders.

Her dark hair was tied loosely in a ponytail, and as she got closer, you noticed the soft, nervous smile on her lips.

“Hey,” she greeted softly when she reached you. “You look… incredible.” She wrapped her arms around you in a light hug, her perfume enveloping you in a scent that was both comforting and intoxicating. You could have stayed like that forever.

You felt the warmth rise to your cheeks as you pulled back. "Thanks. You look amazing too," you replied, feeling self-conscious but also grateful for her compliment.

Her blue eyes twinkled in the soft evening light, and she gestured toward the entrance. “Shall we?”

You walked inside together, and as you were shown to your table, her hand brushed against yours. The touch was brief, but it sent a shiver up your spine. You could feel the tension already building between you, subtle yet electric.

The dinner started easily enough. You talked about football, music, books—everything that usually filled your conversations. But tonight felt different. Every smile, every laugh seemed charged with something more.

As the night wore on, the topics turned deeper. You spoke about your families, your fears, and even your past relationships—or lack thereof.

You found yourself opening up to Ingrid in ways you hadn’t with anyone in a long time. There was something so comforting about her presence, like she really saw you.

After dinner, neither of you wanted the night to end, so you decided to take a walk through the city. The streets were quieter now, the evening settling in, and you found yourselves near the beach.

The sound of the waves crashing softly against the shore filled the silence between you as you made your way down to a large rock by the water.

You sat there together, so close that your arms touched, and it felt so natural, so right. Your heart was racing, and you could feel the heat from her body next to yours.

Ingrid broke the comfortable silence first, her voice softer now, more vulnerable. “I’ve never really been in a serious relationship,” she admitted, her eyes focused on the horizon. “I guess I just… never found the right person.”

Her words surprised you. Ingrid always seemed so confident, so sure of herself, but hearing this side of her—this vulnerability—made your chest tighten with emotion.

You swallowed hard, your own feelings bubbling up. “Maybe you just haven’t been looking in the right places.”

She turned to look at you then, a small, shy smile pulling at her lips. “Maybe.”

The air between you thickened with tension, the unspoken attraction growing stronger by the second. You could feel her eyes on you, the way her body leaned slightly closer, and your breath caught in your throat. Your heart was pounding so loudly, you were sure she could hear it.

And then, without another word, Ingrid leaned in. Her lips brushed against yours in the softest, most tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, testing, as though she was waiting for you to pull away—but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Instead, you leaned into her, your heart racing as you kissed her back.

The kiss deepened, her hand coming up to cup your cheek as you wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

The feel of her, the warmth of her lips, sent a surge of electricity through your entire body. Time seemed to stop. Nothing else existed in that moment but you—her lips on yours, her body pressed against yours, the world fading into the background.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless. Ingrid’s cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes wide and bright as she looked at you, her lips slightly parted.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I… I couldn’t help it.”

You shook your head, a breathless laugh escaping you as you touched her hand. “Don’t be sorry.”

She smiled, a mixture of relief and something deeper flashing across her face. For a long moment, you just sat there, staring at each other, the reality of what had just happened settling between you.

Then, without warning, she leaned in again, this time more confidently. Her lips found yours again, the kiss slower, more lingering. Your heart raced as you kissed her back, your fingers threading through her hair, pulling her closer.

Her hands roamed softly down your back, sending shivers through you as the kiss deepened even further. Every touch, every movement felt like fire, and you couldn’t get enough of her.

You kissed again and again, each one more intense than the last. You could feel the desire building between you, the heat of her body against yours as you held each other, lost in the moment.

The world around you seemed to disappear, and it was just you—just Ingrid and you, your lips, your hands, your hearts beating in unison.

When you finally pulled away for air, you were both panting, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. You couldn’t help but smile, the thrill of it all coursing through you.

“Ingrid…” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I don’t want to stop.”

She smiled softly, her fingers brushing against your cheek. “Me neither.”

You stayed there for a while longer, exchanging soft kisses, wrapped up in each other. It felt so perfect, so right, and yet, there was a part of you that knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

As much as you wanted to stay in this moment forever, reality was waiting, and with it, the complications of your lives—of Alexia.

Ingrid seemed to sense your hesitation because she pulled back slightly, her eyes searching yours. “Y/N, I know this is complicated. With Alexia and everything. But I want you to know that I really like you. And I don’t want to keep hiding how I feel.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut, but in the best way possible. You nodded, feeling the weight of everything you were getting into. “I like you too, Ingrid. So much. But…”

“But Alexia,” she finished for you, her smile turning bittersweet. “I know. It’s not going to be easy.”

You sighed, your heart heavy with the reality of it all. “She’s going to be furious.”

“She’ll understand… eventually. She loves you.” Ingrid’s thumb stroked the back of your hand soothingly. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Her words brought you a sense of comfort, even though you knew the road ahead wouldn’t be simple. But for now, all you wanted was to hold onto this moment with her. To let yourself feel the happiness you hadn’t felt in so long.

“Okay," I whispered. "We’ll take it slow.”

She smiled, leaning in for one last kiss, her lips soft and lingering against yours. “Slow sounds perfect.”

And with that, the world seemed to fall away once more, leaving only you—two hearts intertwined, the future uncertain, but the present full of hope.

——

In the weeks that followed, you and Ingrid continued to meet in secret, cherishing each moment like it was something fragile and precious.

Whether it was meeting for a quiet coffee in a tucked-away café, taking long walks through hidden parks, or sneaking in a few more intimate dinners, being together felt like an escape.

Each time, the world around you blurred, leaving just the two of you cocooned in your own private bubble.

It was impossible not to be swept away by her. The way her eyes lit up when she laughed, how her smile seemed to make everything else fade, or how she looked at you like no one else in the world existed—it was intoxicating.

Every kiss you shared, every hug, felt like time slowed to a standstill, as if nothing else mattered but the feel of her warmth against you.

You hadn’t defined what this was yet, hadn’t put labels on the connection between you. But it didn’t need words to be felt.

The pull between you two was undeniable, and you knew, even without saying it out loud, that what you had with Ingrid was real—and strong.

One evening after a late dinner, as the two of you strolled along the street of Barcelona, Ingrid paused, turning to face you.

Her hand reached for yours, fingers intertwining with a softness that made your heart flutter.

“Y/N,” she began, her voice low and thoughtful, “do you ever think about what we are? I mean… I know we haven’t talked about it, but this, what we have… it’s more than just casual, right?”

You felt your breath catch for a moment, the reality of the situation pushing against the feelings you had for her. You nodded slowly, unable to look away from her eyes.

“It feels like so much more,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “I think about it all the time. I think about you all the time.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, and she leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m glad I’m not the only one,” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin.

The moments you spent with her felt like everything, yet the weight of what you were hiding from Alexia gnawed at you.

Every time you were with your sister, the guilt grew heavier, impossible to ignore. Alexia had no idea what was happening between you and Ingrid, and each time she mentioned her in passing—a casual comment about training or a game—you had to fight the urge to spill everything.

One afternoon, as you sat with Alexia after one of her games, she casually brought up Ingrid again. “Ingrid estaba imparable hoy, ¿verdad?” she said, her tone light as she scrolled through her phone. “Me encanta cómo siempre lo da todo” (Ingrid was on fire today, right?. I love how she always gives it her all.)

Your stomach twisted at her words, a pang of guilt creeping up your spine. You forced a smile, trying to keep your tone even. “Sí, estuvo genial” (Yeah, she was great.)

But inside, you were crumbling. How much longer could you keep this secret? The fear of Alexia finding out—of her being hurt, angry, or worse—was constant, always lurking in the back of your mind.

You wanted to believe she would understand, that she would see how much Ingrid meant to you, but there was no escaping the possibility that it would change everything between you.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, your phone buzzed with a message from Ingrid.

Ingrid: Are you okay? You seemed quiet today.

You hesitated before replying, your heart heavy with conflicting emotions.

Y/N: I’m okay… it’s just… Alexia. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this from her.

A few moments passed before Ingrid responded.

Ingrid: I’ve been thinking about that too. I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide this, hide us. But I get it… it’s complicated.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you stared at the screen. The truth was, no matter how much you tried to act normal around Alexia, it was getting harder.

She had started to give you these curious looks, as if sensing that something was off. You were doing your best to keep things steady, but the cracks were beginning to show.

And the worst part? You didn’t know how much longer you could keep pretending.

The next time you saw Ingrid was for a movie night at your apartment, a special occasion since she would be staying over. Your heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and nervousness as you prepared for the evening.

When Ingrid arrived, you greeted her with a warm hug. “I’m so glad you’re here,” you said, your voice filled with anticipation.

“Me too,” Ingrid replied with a gentle smile. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

As the night unfolded, you both settled on the couch, choosing a film and making popcorn. Ingrid was her usual charming self, and her laughter filled the room as you joked and chatted about the movie.

At one point, as you sat close together, Ingrid’s hand brushed against yours. You felt a flutter in your chest, and she looked at you with a soft, understanding gaze.

“I hate that this situation with Alexia is causing you so much stress,” Ingrid said quietly, her voice tender. “I don’t want to be the reason for that.”

You squeezed her hand gently, feeling the weight of her words. “It’s not you, Ingrid. It’s the situation... and Alexia. I care about you so much, but it’s becoming really difficult to keep this from her.”

Ingrid’s expression softened with empathy. “Maybe it’s time we talk to her. Together.”

The thought of confronting Alexia was daunting, but there was comfort in the idea of facing it with Ingrid by your side. “I know you’re right,” you said softly. “I just don’t want to lose her... or you.”

Ingrid leaned in, her forehead gently touching yours. “You’re not going to lose me. I promise. We’ll get through this. But we can’t keep pretending this isn’t real. It’s too important.”

Her words, filled with reassurance, were followed by a slow, tender kiss. Her lips were soft and warm against yours, and the kiss seemed to hold all the promises and fears you both shared.

It felt like time had stopped, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away. It was just the two of you, cocooned in your own little world.

When you finally broke the kiss, you both agreed it was time to end the evening and headed to your bedroom.

As you both lay on the bed, you hesitated, unsure whether to cuddle, given it was your first time sleeping together.

But Ingrid looked at you with a loving, inviting smile and opened her arms. “Come here,” she said softly.

You smiled and settled into her embrace, your head resting gently on her chest. Ingrid’s arm wrapped around you, pulling you close, and her fingers began to softly caress your hair.

The tender touch was incredibly soothing, and you felt your body relax completely.

You fought against the pull of sleep, not wanting to fall asleep before Ingrid. She sensed your struggle and whispered, “It’s okay, baby. Go to sleep. I’m right here.”

Her voice was soothing, and she placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. You let yourself drift off, comforted by her warmth and presence.

Ingrid fell asleep a few minutes later, her breathing steady and calm underneath you.

The night unfolded serenely. You lay slightly turned away, with Ingrid nestled close behind you, her arm wrapped gently around your waist and her head resting in the nape of your neck. The room was calm, the only sound being the soothing rhythm of your breaths intertwining.

Suddenly, you were abruptly awakened by a loud voice that broke the peaceful silence.

“Qué coño está pasando aqui?!” (What the fuck is happening here)

———————-

For the people who wanted to be tagged:

@marvelwomen-simp @wososapologist @multifandomlesbianic

[woso-dreamzzz]

Award II

Alexia Putellas x Hardersson!Reader

Aitana Bonmatí x Hardersson!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You are finally rewarded for being the best

You don't play football for the fame.

You've never played football for fame or money or awards.

You play football because you love it.

It's been apart of your life for as long as you can remember. Your parents still have your first Wolfsburg kit, back when you were a baby and couldn't do anything but cry.

The fame, the money, the trophies all just came along with the sport you love.

The responsibility of carrying your country and your club doesn't weigh on you much, not when you have such passion for the game and your teams.

The first time you felt such responsibility was on your youth team, captaining them to a successful Under-17 Euros. Then, the responsibility was back at Barcelona. You were made the third captain after half a season back from your loan to Lyon.

When you left, the responsibility stayed, being made the sole captain for your country. You've spent a year at Wolfsburg now, the club of your childhood, and the band for your club wraps around your arm in preparation for next season.

Denmark Youth Captain.

Barcelona Third Captain.

Sweden Senior Captain.

Wolfsburg First Captain.

You didn't play football to become a leader but somehow you've become one, moving from yelling orders from your defence to yelling orders at the whole team.

You are an expert keeper. You always have been.

People around you say you've made your mark on the game and you haven't even retired yet. People look at you for what a keeper should be, for how a leader should act.

(People whisper that all keepers coming up the ranks now try to mimic your style, your natural instinct and abilities).

It's only inevitable that you have the trophy cabinet to back up your skill.

Two World Cups sit in your cabinet. Two Golden Gloves as well.

Multiple Keeper of the Year trophies.

An Olympic medal.

A Euros medal.

And then awards for at club level too.

Liga F, Copa de la Reina and Supercopa sit in the apartment you used to share with Natalia with a Première Ligue and Coupe de France medal too.

Your Champion's League medals sit with Natalia's on the wall.

Everything you won at Linköping and Arsenal are at home in Sweden whilst your most recent Bundesliga and DFB-Pokal medals are at your apartment in Germany.

You are the greatest goalkeeper playing in the women's leagues at the moment and, while you cannot see it, everyone else knows it.

You've come to the ceremony to eat some of the bar food and maybe see some of your old Lyon teammates.

Talia has come to the ceremony to see you make history.

Alexia and Aitana are the ones presenting the award and just from the way they're smiling, Talia knows the result.

You've been ranked highly ever since your first nomination. That time, you'd ranked eleventh. Every time after that, you've finished in the top ten.

Your name is called and the world stops.

You suck in a breath, frozen in your seat like you're in the Champion's League final with only a one goal lead and the other team advancing on your goal with lethal efficiency.

You don't know what to do. You don't know what to say.

Your wife allows your tuck your head into her neck, not flinching as your tears drip down onto her suit blazer.

"It's okay, baby," Talia says to you," You deserve this so much."

She helps you to your feet, hiding your face as you wipe your tears where cameras can't see.

You force yourself to walk up the stairs to the stage without stumbling. You suck in a breath.

There it is.

The most prestigious award in football.

It was a few years ago now that Talia won hers. She'd had a standout season during her first as Barcelona's captain. She was lethal on goal for club and country.

There was never any doubt it would be here.

That's the way it always is.

Everyone always expects a striker or a midfielder. Sometimes, it's a defender. It's never been a keeper though, at least for the women's.

Second goalkeeper in history.

First female goalkeeper in history.

Aitana is the one nearest to you.

You're taller than her by a lot, towering over her but she still hugs you like you were little, like you were still the little girl she met when hunting down Pernille's shirt.

One of her hands comes up to cup your cheek.

"You've grown up," She says and you force yourself not to cry," You're so big now."

Alexia is next. You last saw her a few weeks ago when you came back to Spain for the weekend and attended one of Talia's games. Alexia made you come down from the stands and asked about Wolfsburg and how your season was going.

She was all business then and you'd been as vague as possible, in case she remembered something that could be used against you during the next rounds of the Champion's League.

But now, there's no hint of professionalism in her eyes as she pulls you into a hug.

"I told you," She whispers," I told you that you'd get this one day. Remember this feeling, okay? There's nothing better in the world. There's no one better in the world."

She pulls away and hands you the award.

You turn to the cameras, to the audience all on their feet clapping you.

You lift up your Ballon D'or for all to see.

[greedandenby]

Transcript of all the French dialogue in Interview with the Vampire S2 E03 "No Pain".

You asked, yours Frenchly delivered. Bonne lecture ! (long-ass post incoming)

(did not use timestamps as these may vary, but rather scene descriptions)

Armand’s Children of Darkness:

Coven vampire: La mort punira toute infraction de la première et de la cinquième des grandes lois.

Armand sees Lestat at the theatre (performing Marivaux’s Le Triomphe de l’amour):

Lestat (as Arlequin): Ah ! Vous êtes donc des femmes !… (vous êtes deux) friponnes !… et par-dessus le marché, un honnête homme !...

Armand: Tu es le bâtard de Magnus. Je sais que tu peux m’entendre, mon enfant.

Lestat: Qui m’appelle « enfant » ?

Armand: Il est mort, n’est-ce pas ? Je peux prendre soin de toi. Je peux t’apprendre ce qu’il ne t’a pas appris. Viens à moi.

Lestat (as Arlequin): Mais de quoi s’agit-il, mes libérales dames ?

Armand: Viens à moi.

Lestat (as Arlequin): Encore plus honnête.

Armand confronts Lestat and Nicolas:

Armand (to the coven vampires): À la maison.

Coven vampires: Oui, maître. Désolés, maître.

Lestat (to Nicolas): Tu es si distrayant dans la fosse que je ne me rappelle plus du texte.

Nicolas: Je ne peux pas lire mes notes quand j’entends tes pieds sur le plancher… Nous allons nous faire attraper.

Lestat: Je l’espère… Entends-tu cela ?

Nicolas: Par-dessus tes incessantes divagations ? Comment pourrais-je entendre quoi que ce soit ?... Qu’est-ce ?

Lestat: Là… Quelqu’un me regarde.

Nicolas: Tu es toujours au centre de l’attention.

Lestat: Il pense que je ne sais pas qu’il est là.

Nicolas: Est-ce encore de la poésie ?... Viens plus près de mon oreille. Je peux seulement comprendre quand tu t’approches.

Lestat: En pardessus.

Armand: Gardes-tu ce garçon comme aide-mémoire ?

Nicolas: Lestat, connais-tu ce gitan ?

Armand: La solitude que tu ressens, il ne l’atteindra jamais. Sois avec les tiens.

[Side note: they translated « the loneliness you feel, he will not reach it » for « atteindra », but i think Armand is actually saying « il ne l’éteindra jamais », in the sense of « he will not extinguish it ». It makes a LOT more sense.]

Lestat: Et abandonner mon gilet à carreaux ? Mon col jabot ? Vivre comme une larve ?

Nicolas: Lestat, que se passe-t-il ?

Lestat: Rien. Il n’est rien… Bonne nuit, homme étrange !

Armand: Lestat ! Là !

Nicolas: Lestat ?

Lestat: Nicki !

Armand: Tu ne lui as pas révélé ta vraie nature, n’est-ce pas ?

Lestat: Quel est ce pouvoir ?... Je n’ai pas ce pouvoir !

Armand: Mais tu l’auras. Tu as le sang de Magnus. Tu gâches ton potentiel en menant cette vie-là.

Lestat: Relâche-le ! Relâche-le !!!

Armand: Et voici un buveur de sang !

Lestat: Qui es-tu ?

Armand: Je suis Armand. Je suis le chef de ton clan.

Lestat: Nicki !

Armand: Ramène ton gilet chez les larves, veux-tu ?

Lestat confronts the Children of Darkness:

Armand: Je suis heureux que tu sois venu. Il est sain et sauf.

Lestat: Il est saigné. Il ne se réveille pas… Est-ce si amusant de vivre dans une telle saleté et la puanteur ?

Coven vampire: Nous devons servir Dieu au travers de Satan et au travers d’Armand.

Lestat: Ah… Une trinité crottée.

Coven vampire: Tu vas attirer la colère de Dieu sur nous avec tes péchés !

Lestat: Qui sont ?

Coven vampire: Tu vis parmi les mortels ! Tu marches dans le temple de Dieu !

Lestat: Il parle de l’homme triste avec les mains clouées ? Ah… Bien. C’est un arbre tombé. Raboté simplement pour les simples d’esprit. Du même arbre, on fit le pied d’une table et, là, une flûte ! Rampez hors de cette prison qu’il bâtit pour vous… Dieu… Satan… Armand… Est-ce vrai ? Hm ? Nous sommes les Dieux. Vous êtes les Dieux !

Lestat visits Armand:

Lestat: Que s’est-il passé ?

Armand: Je pourrais parler jusqu’à la fin du monde sans jamais te dire tout ce que tu as détruit ici.

Lestat: Nous sommes seuls. Satan ne nous écoute pas… Comment transformes-tu l’air en feu ? Comment bouges-tu des objets par la simple force de ton esprit ?

Armand: Demande-t-il, tout en dansant dans les cendres… Tu as fait de ton Nicolas l’un des nôtres ? Est-ce que le garçon a accepté le don ?... Trop fragile. J’aurais pu te prévenir.

Lestat: Il s’en remettra.

Armand: Certainement pas.

Lestat: J’ai une idée.

Lestat performs for Armand at the theatre (again, Le Triomphe de l’amour) :

Lestat (as Arlequin): Oh ! Mes mignonnes, avant que de vous en aller, il faudra bien, s’il vous plaît, que nous…

(As Lestat) Ils viennent accompagnés, séduits dans un élan collectif. Ils rient ensemble, pleurent ensemble.

Armand: Qu’est-ce, pour un vampire ?

Lestat: Une opportunité. Hamlet est mort sous les coups d’une lame empoisonnée, mais l’acteur qui gît sous leurs yeux respire encore. Dans ce temple, croire protège. Annonce que tu es un vampire. Bois le sang à la vue de tous. Mets en scène les rituels de ton clan, pas depuis les égouts mais depuis le premier balcon.

Armand: Je n’ai pas de clan. Tu m’en as privé.

Lestat: Au contraire, maître.

(as Arlequin): Je n’ai encore qu’un commencement d’envie de n’en plus faire.

Outside the theatre:

… assouvir vos cruelles envies au théâtre des vampires !

At the theatre performance:

Victim: J’ai tant d’années ! Tant d’années !

Theatre vampire: Des années ? La mort ne respecte pas l’âge !

Armand: Regarde comme ils sont immobiles. Ils croient vraiment que c’est une pièce de théâtre. Des clous sur une porte à Wittenberg. Tu as mené une réforme, Lestat.

Lestat: Nous l’avons fait ensemble.

Armand: Tu fais une meilleure Mort.

Lestat: La faux fait tout le travail.

Armand: Après une centaine de nuits ici, tu t’ennuies déjà ?

Lestat: Seulement avec le jeu d’acteur… Allons-y.

Armand: Ici ? Maintenant ?

Lestat: C’est une loge spacieuse.

Armand: Il nous observe.

Lestat: Il devrait regarder sa partition.

Armand: Lestat… Je t’aime.

Lestat: Oui… Je t’aime aussi.

Aaaand that's it (for now), folks! Will do subsequent episodes if there's more French in them (more likely than not!). Bisous !

Episode 2 here

Episode 4 here

Tagging the peeps who requested: @nalyra-dreaming @indelicateink @chicalepidoptera @zailafaneez

[lullabyes22-blog]

Le Rite sacré de l'amour magique - The Sacred Ritual of Magical Love.

Mild NSFW

I feel so sad whenever I read about how this scene was 'cringe' and 'unnecessary' and 'awkward' - given it's visually and narratively a feast of subtext, and full of delicious tidbits about the essential nature of Hex-tech as a magical system.

It also wonderfully highlights the fusion of a pure source powered by the crystallization of celestial bodies with the viscerality of blood as a sacrificial link to esoteric knowledge - but at the cost of forfeiting one's 'tether' to humanity.

We have Viktor literally having a brush with death and nearly transcending the physical plane, while the Hex-gem takes away his life force and infuses it into its internal matrix - a literal melding between man and magic that, sadly, also requires the forfeiture of his fundamental humanity.

All while simultaneously, Jayce and Mel are making love, in a gorgeously animated sequence which is allllll about prioritizing female pleasure (and showing a female orgasm onscreen in a PG-13 kids' show - like, y'all, that takes balls, given if it were a mainstream Hollywood film, it'd earn an NC-17 rating or get slapped with a big ol' R for its trouble.)

And there's so many wonderful interpretive lenses we can apply to the juxtaposition between Viktor and Jayce - all while sex, death and magic are happening onscreen. On one level it represents Jayce's seduction, and by proxy corruption, at the hands of Mel - all while the Hex-core is corrupted by human blood that belongs to a man who has grown up in toxic environs and carries their lived legacy in his body to the point it's killing him from the inside out.

And on the other hand, we can see it as a divergence between the two routes of magical power as a means to channel transcendent knowledge - one through the brutal solitude of Viktor's path, which will ultimately set him in Machine Herald territory, and have him casting off his 'earthly ties' - right down to everything that makes him human. For him, the Hex-core is knowledge to be penetrated and absorbed, and its secrets require a sacrifice of the highest order. And on the other hand, we have Mel and Jayce literally melding together with astral imagery in the background, to show a different route that magic allows one to take, namely where two life-forces come together and engender something sublime between them (or possibly even make a baby? It's a popular fan theory and I can certainly see the potential.)

Magic, for Arcane, seems to be a means of interconnecting different facets into a unified whole (not unlike the way the series mirrors and makes parallels between a host of characters and circumstances, almost like they're different faces of a Hex-gem). And this scene sums up so powerfully what that system of science and magic is about - and the extreme highs and lows it can take you to.

And of course, right at the heels of this intense interplay between sex and death, two different types of la petite mort, we have the ultimate confluence between the two:

Rebirth.

And who better to embody it than two characters who carry their dead selves behind them like corpses shackled to their heels, in different ways?

Tbh I read these scenes as a trilogy for explaining Arcane's magic system - with Jinx being that final spark - literally the Powder - that blasts Hex-tech in all its destructive and yet empowering potential wide open.

Also a separate aside, I find this scene way more uncomfortable than the earlier two, simply because the interactions between Silco and Jinx are so fraught and charged. The first time you watch it, there's that almost-kiss Gotcha! that makes you spit-take, like: Wait are they...? And then the whiplash is so extreme because in a blink it goes from uncomfortably full of romantic undercurrents to strangely tender, verging on reverent. A moment of perfect and pure trust between two monsters whose entire conception of trust has been trampled into shards that they now use to cut others with.

But for me the pinnacle is this scene.

Other fan theories have also stated that they see Jinx as sort of the unwitting embodiment of the Hex-crystal's power paired with the dark potency of Shimmer, and for me this is one of the biggest visual metaphors. This girl, caught in a blissful gyre of fulfillment and serene frenzy, unmade and then remade, as she deciphers the codes of the Hex-gem and feels, for the first time, at one with herself and with her potential to unlock secrets and usher in miracles.

And madness, too, but that's a whole 'nother analysis.

tl;dr - Please Fortiche. Release an art book. I will shell out the big bucks<3

[letterful]

Romanticism is the primitive, the untutored, it is youth, life, the exuberant sense of life of the natural man, but it is also pallor, fever, disease, decadence, the maladie de siècle, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, the Dance of Death, indeed Death itself. It is Shelley's dome of many-coloured glass, and it is also his white radiance of eternity. It is the confused teeming fullness and richness of life, Fülle des Lebens, inexhaustible multiplicity, turbulence, violence, conflict, chaos, but also it is peace, oneness with the great `I Am', harmony with the natural order, the music of the spheres, dissolution in the eternal all-containing spirit. It is the strange, the exotic, the grotesque, the mysterious, the supernatural, ruins, moonlight, enchanted castles, hunting horns, elves, giants, griffins, falling water, the old mill on the Floss, darkness and the powers of darkness, phantoms, vampires, nameless terror, the irrational, the unutterable.

Also it is the familiar, the sense of one's unique tradition, joy in the smiling aspect of everyday nature, and the accustomed sights and sounds of contented, simple, rural folk — the sane and happy wisdom of rosy-checked sons of the soil. It is the ancient, the historic, it is Gothic cathedrals, mists of antiquity, ancient roots and the old order with its unanalysable qualities, its profound but inexpressible loyalties, the impalpable, the imponderable.

Also it is the pursuit of novelty, revolutionary change, concern with the fleeting present, desire to live in the moment, rejection of knowledge, past and future, the pastoral idyll of happy innocence, joy in the passing instant, a sense of timelessness. It is nostalgia, it is reverie, it is intoxicating dreams, it is sweet melancholy and bitter melancholy, solitude, the sufferings of exile, the sense of alienation, roaming in remote places, especially the East, and in remote times, especially the Middle Ages.

But also it is happy co-operation in a common creative effort, the sense of forming part of a Church, a class, a party, a tradition, a great and all-containing symmetrical hierarchy, knights and retainers, the ranks of the Church, organic social ties, mystic unity, one faith, one land, one blood, `la terre et les morts', as Barrès said, the great society of the dead and the living and the yet unborn. It is the Toryism of Scott and Southey and Wordsworth, and it is the radicalism of Shelley, Büchner and Stendhal. It is Chateaubriand's aesthetic medievalism, and it is Michelet's loathing of the Middle Ages. It is Carlyle's worship of authority, and Hugo's hatred of authority. It is extreme nature mysticism, and extreme anti-naturalist aestheticism. It is energy, force, will, youth, life, étalage du moi; it is also self-torture, self-annihilation, suicide. It is the primitive, the unsophisticated, the bosom of nature, green fields, cow-bells, murmuring brooks, the infinite blue sky.

No less, however, it is also dandyism, the desire to dress up, red waistcoats, green wigs, blue hair, which the followers of people like Gérard de Nerval wore in Paris at a certain period. It is the lobster which Nerval led about on a string in the streets of Paris. It is wild exhibitionism, eccentricity, it is the battle of Ernani, it is ennui, it is taedium vitae, it is the death of Sardanopolis, whether painted by Delacroix, or written about by Berlioz or Byron. It is the convulsion of great empires, wars, slaughter and the crashing of worlds. It is the romantic hero — the rebel, l'homme fatale, the damned soul, the Corsairs, Manfreds, Giaours, Laras, Cains, all the population of Byron's heroic poems. It is Melmoth, it is Jean Sbogar, all the outcasts and Ishmaels as well as the golden-hearted courtesans and the noble-hearted convicts of nineteenth-century fiction. It is drinking out of the human skull, it is Berlioz who said he wanted to climb Vesuvius in order to commune with a kindred soul. It is Satanic revels, cynical irony, diabolical laughter, black heroes, but also Blake's vision of God and his angels, the great Christian society, the eternal order, and `the starry heavens which can scarce express the infinite and eternal of the Christian soul'.

It is, in short, unity and multiplicity. It is fidelity to the particular, in the paintings of nature for example, and also mysterious tantalising vagueness of outline. It is beauty and ugliness. It is art for art's sake, and art as an instrument of social salvation. It is strength and weakness, individualism and collectivism, purity and corruption, revolution and reaction, peace and war, love of life and love of death.

— from Isaiah Berlin's The Roots of Romanticism.

[marclvsf1]

LITTLE PILOT // Kimi Raikkonen

Kimi Raikkonen x wife!Reader

NOTA DEL AUTOR: mucho más corto que los demás, pero tenía ganas de escribir algo esponjoso sobre Kimi y aquí está.

(El inglés no es mi primer idioma, lo siento si hay errores de ortografía, las críticas constructivas son bienvenidas).

You met Kimi in 2014 during a trip you took to visit friends and family in Finland.

You had arranged to meet your group of friends that you both had in common for a drink, when to your surprise he was there too. You knew who he was, you had heard about him hundreds of times, both on television and from your friends, but you had never met him in the same place before.

And that day, more to your luck than your misfortune, the only place left was next to him, so you had no choice but to sit next to him and try to engage him in conversation.

To your surprise, you hit it off quite well from the very first moment, and he wasn't the ice man he was portrayed to be on social media and TV.

Just three days after that meeting, you received a message from a number you hadn't added inviting you to go to his house, a number that a couple of messages later you discovered belonged to Kimi, and you decided to accept his invitation, since at that moment you had nothing to lose, and if it went wrong at least you would have the anecdote.

But after many meetings and many messages shared even late at night when you should be sleeping, you decided to make your relationship official.

And now, 10 years and many experiences later, you were at the biggest karting track in Switzerland waiting for your eldest son, whom you had just a year after you made your relationship official, to make his karting debut.

Ever since your not-so-little boy was only 3 years old, it was clear to him that he wanted to be like daddy and become a professional racing driver when he grew up. So Kimi wasted no time, and when he was only 4 years old he gave him his first kart, which he had outgrown, but which you still kept in your house as a souvenir.

You were in one of the parenting zones waiting for your little one's race to start, when your now-husband's voice brought you out of your thoughts.

-Calm down, honey, he's well trained, nothing will happen to him.-

-I am calm-

-Your grip on my arm doesn't prove the same thing," he said mockingly.-

When he uttered those words you turned your gaze to where he had mentioned, realising that you were gripping his arm with much more force than normal, as your knuckles were completely white from the force you had been exerting.

-Sorry,- you said, removing your hand from his arm with flushed cheeks. -

-I don't want you to apologise for being excited about your son,- he said, putting his arm around your shoulders and then intertwining your hands, placing a kiss on yours,-Although it doesn't seem like it, I understand you, and I even think I'm more nervous than you are.-

You were about to answer him, when the sound of the engines starting up made you turn your gaze towards the track, or rather towards a certain kart bearing the number 91.

The qualifying laps had started with your son in ninth position, but as the laps progressed he was overtaking his rivals as naturally as if it was something he did every day. He had certainly inherited his father's natural talent, both on and off the track.

The qualifying laps were over, and the race was about to start with your son in fourth position, and although he wasn't in the best position, he had a good chance of making it onto the podium, and you knew that if he worked hard, with his talent and dedication, he could do it.

The race started with your son moving up a position at the start corner, bringing a couple of tears to your eyes at his determination.

The race went on for most of the time with the first three positions the same, when in one corner the boy in front of your son made a mistake, which your son took advantage of to move into second place, a position in which he finished the race.

You wiped away the tears that had sprung to your eyes with the back of your hand as you watched your little one step onto the podium and receive his trophy.

-We are proud of you,- you said, hugging your son as he came back to you.

-Your mother is right, we are proud of you little boy.  And we always will be no matter what you decide to do when you're older,- said your husband, joining you in your embrace.

-we love you little one-

-I love you too isät-

[unnaturalequilibrium]

undefined number of favourite #mafin scenes [the confrontation]

It’s the assertiveness that gets to me. Not that Fina is by any means a pushover up until this moment, but it becomes so crystal clear what kind of person she is in this scene. She is braver than any marine, dressing herself up in all of her emotions and doing a base jump into the void. But not in a rash or aggressive manner. She simply spits facts with a calm and a determination that sort of makes me fall in love with her as well and I’ve got celluloid (metaphorically speaking) between me and her so the fact the Marta doesn’t just crumble right then and there…Then again Marta sort of does, doesn’t she?! Those stiff shoulders and that porcelain mask - it’s tipped slightly askew by nothing much more than some well-spoken truths rocking it out of place. 

And Fina’s speech in general, the whole you can change what I wear, how I act; but no matter what restrictions you expose her to you can’t change her nature. The homosexuality is not something that can be washed out with a dress-code or rinsed off through propriety. The fact that she just spells it out like that, tells her boss that yes, no matter what you put me through I cannot and I will not change. Either you accept this or you make me leave. That fucking strength, she- Fina has a tendency to be a little impetus and prone to risktaking (especially in contrast to Marta’s character), but this didn’t even feel like that. It just felt like someone who took a deep breath and was done with what the world tried to force upon her, and especially done with the mould she perceived this woman was trying to force her into. That she didn’t raise her voice, that her body language remained controlled simply made it more effective, the point was driven home with much more force by simply not being expressed with any force at all, only quiet conviction.

Then there is Marta who is the exact opposite, from the moment she has Fina’s attention the nervousness makes her fiddle, eyes darting; and she clings to the counter like it was the only door left in the ocean while the Titanic bobbed to its grave next to her. Whereas Fina is calm, brave and determined, Marta is terrified, uncertain and ultimately a coward. She can’t even meet Fina’s eyes and even though she tries to muster her persona of power it fails and backfires. It simply pales in comparison next to Fina’s honesty and as the mask crumbles it shows the cracks beneath it, the divide between Marta the person and Marta de la Reina the title, the profession, the Platonic ideal.

The scene just hits. And if you walk away from it not having fallen a little bit in love with Fina or if you walk away from it not realising how much Marta has fallen for Fina -  well then there is no saving you, you are a lost cause.

[livin4woso]

Breaking the media

Chapter 4- moving on in

Your alarm rang at the ungodly hour of 7.30 you quickly shut it off and forced yourself out of bed training didnt start till 9.30 but knowing you its going to take atleast 2hrs to get ready. You wandered into the small kitchen and realised that you needed to go shopping you had been so caught up in being ready for training that you hadn't had the chance to get shopping. Your first thought was to just find the nearest shop and buy what you needed however you thought going to a local cafe was a smarter choice and would be better than your terrible cooking skills.

It didnt take long for you to find a cafe with the help of Google maps and being placed in a busy small town. The cafe you had found was very reserved and ran by an old spanish women which was happy to greet you as you stood with your Barcelona sweats on and a giant backpack filled with your training kit. "Thank you so much, how much is it" you asked after having the best avocado on toast you had ever tasted and a mocha that was brew to perfection "its on the house dear, you're welcome back anytime" she said clearling you plates away "no no please let me pay" you practically begged the older women to let you pay but she refused.

After excepting your fate and enjoying your time in the cafe you forgot to check the time and saw it was 9.10 am you'd spent an 1hr in the cafe "shit" you mumbled to yourself and waved the old women goodbye. Now if miracles exists this was one you were 25 minutes away from the training ground and somehow you had made it there for 9.25. With 5 minutes to spare you walked into the changing room to find that you were the last one in and everyone was waiting for you. You knew that wasn't the best impression but atleast you weren't late "captain im so sorry, i didn't mean to show up so far behind i wont do it again" you pleaded to your new captain as you had a feeling she was ready to snap at you from the gaze she gave you "dont apologise its okay just next time be earlier, its your first day dont stress" she said and put a hand on your shoulder in reassurance.

Training had gone well for you, you had very quickly proved yourself to fit to the rumors of being a promising young talent. If football was a language you were fluent everything made sense to you the way the ball moved at your feet it was natural. Everyone was fairly impressed with your skill "you worried luce" mapi joked digging her elbow into lucys side "don't even" she said deadpanning her face of course lucy was the starter over you but you were definitely a threat you were half of lucys age and developing quicker than ever. You walked back to the changing room and got changed quickly sending everyone a goodbye before heading off the walk home as you needed to shop.

This is when lucy needed to bring up your living suitation but she had no power to get this changed she needed to tell alexia "ale, can i talk to you" she said dragging the spainard to the side of the room "sure whats up" she said back "its about y/n" lucy said trying to figure out whats the best way to word this "whats wrong?" Alexia responded her eyebrows knitted together she cared for you and she didnt understand why she was so protective over you even though the two of you rarely spoke, you rarely spoke to anyone unless it was for a drill. "Ermm so basically she's living by herself the team have bought her an apartment and shes been walking to the training ground.. and like yes i know she probably can take care of herself. But shes 16.. and" lucy was rambling "what? She's living by herself she knows no spanish and probably doesn't know how to wash her clothes... we've got to sort this" alexia said almost shocked in the stupidity of the management team what were they thinking a 16 year old by herself.

Alexia had went to talk to jona after she told lucy she would sort out the issue, "jona were abouts does y/n live?" She questioned him "its in de la tres torres apartment 4b" he said "why?" "Im going to check up on her and tell her she is moving in with me, im not having a 16yr old live by herself in a foreign country" she said back firmly grabbing her car keys out of her bag and storming off to the car park before jona could protest against the captain l, you were living with her she didn't care she had a spare room and was quite happy to share it as she wouldn't mind the company on her days off. She drove to your apartment parking her car outside she was preparing for your stubborn attitude to not be willing to leave as she knows how teenagers can be.

It was 5.30pm when the knock came at your door you were about to head off shopping so you had no idea who it could be. You opened your door to find alexia stood outside "am i in trouble?" You questioned it would be the only reason she was at your door "no course not how about we have a seat" she said as you brought her to your sofa "nice place" she commented glazing around the room it was nicely decorated but it wasnt a home "yeah its alright, just a bit lonely sometimes" you said sitting down next to her. "So i was wondering if instead of living here by yourself, you come and live with me in my apartment i have a spare room and it would be much nicer and you would have less responsibility" she began "ermm i dont know captain i dont wanna crash your place.. honestly im fine here" you said almost believing your own words. You weren't fine in that apartment you had no idea how to live by yourself but you didnt want to burden alexia with your problems or with your presence. "No no pequeña, please come live with me honestly it would put me at peace of mind that you are well fed and rest" she said back "really?" You questioned you almost couldn't believe she cared that much for you "of course but please stop calling me captain and call me alexia or ale whatever one" she said almost jokingly.

You had agreed to stay with her and you began to pack but it was getting late and you hadn't eaten yet "umm ale.. alexia can we just go now im really hungry and have no energy to finish packing" you said walking into the living room where she was lay on your couch "of course pequeña how about tomorrow you come back after training then call me when you're finished packing" she said looking up to you. You just nodded you were so tired and it was only 6.30. She brought you to her car and you slipped into the passenger seat the drive was longer than you had expected it was a 30 minutes away yet thats all it took for you to drift of asleep in her car your head resting against the window. Alexia looked over to you her heart almost melting at the sight she knew how hard this must be for you and yet you still hadn't spoke to anyone. The car had pulled into alexias driveway and just as she turned the car off you had stirred awake from your sleep "we're here amor how about you get your bags from the boot" she said getting out the car and made her way to open the door to her house. Her house was beautifully furnished it was so her stylish yet not over the top you couldn't believe you were going to be staying in her home. "How about you start putting your stuff in the bedroom while i cook us some food" she said as she showed you to your new room.

The dish was simple it was just some pasta but it was so tasty you had been craving a home cooked meal. "Thank you so much" you said as you moved to wash your plate in the sink, "no worries amor just wash your dish then you can head off to sleep and i will wake you up" she said giving you a smile. You had climbed into bed this time the sheets felt a lot more comforting and your bed felt so much warmer you had fell asleep with ease. Alexia had came up to check on you but as she peeked her head through the door she found you passed out asleep and she decided to let you sleep.

[zareleonis]

"I must play the role that they want me to play": Trans coding and Furina de Fontaine

There are several facts that, when combined, make the character of Focalors/Furina is distinctly transgender in nature. Firstly, Focalors/Furina was born an Oceanid, a species of pure water spirits that is genderless and sexless.

In legends shared by humans regarding their origins, the first Oceanid is called “it/its.” The human author recounting this story says humans have used “she” to Oceanids ever since, more as a matter of course than an expression of gender.

Oceanids are also sexless, as they do not reproduce through any sort of coupling and instead proliferate through abstract means that are little understood by humans. Focalors/Furina, after seeing the lives humans led on land, eventually longed to be human herself. The desire to transform from Oceanid to human is already a solid metaphor for transness in and of itself, but is even more so given that Focalors/Furina as an Oceanid starts as a creature that is genderless and sexless.

The trans coding of Focalors/Furina’s dream to be human only becomes more profound once they become a god and are forced to split themself into two i halves in a bid to save Fontaine. The divine half has to give up her humanity forever, yet continues to long for the humanity she once had down to her very last breath.

The human half, Furina, meanwhile has to hide her humanity and true self for centuries. Forced back in the metaphorical closet in a way that is acutely familiar to any queer person who’s been closeted.

Going beyond the lore that Focalors/Furina was born genderless and sexless and the storyline which serves as a broader metaphor for transness, Furina’s design is distinctly androgynous, so much so that her Japanese voice actor, Minase Inori, shared that when she first saw Furina, she couldn’t tell if the character was meant to be a boy or a girl and found the ambiguity captivating.

Notably the Japanese dub leans into the androgyny angle, both through Minase’s performance and Furina’s use of the personal pronoun “boku.” As a pronoun typically used by young men and boys, when used by a female character can emphasize their eccentricity and gender non-conformity, both key traits of Furina.

Returning to Furina’s design, one of the key design philosophies for her character is contradicting elements to emphasize the contradictory facets of her personality, as explained by Vivi, one of Genshin Impact's Character Concept Artists, in the La Vaguelette behind the scenes video.

One such contradicting element is the mixture of both men’s and women’s clothing that she wears. The lower half/back of her garment features a morning dress with a modified western women’s petticoat-style tail, whereas the upper half is a men’s waistcoat and vest.

Furina’s vest has its buttons on the right, as traditionally found on men’s clothing. This is in contrast with other Fontainian characters such as Wriothesley and Clorinde, whose buttons are placed in accordance with the traditional style for clothing made for their gender.

We see the same sense of contrast in her combat animations, where she does both a masculine style and feminine style bows when performing separate abilities.

Other elements such as Furina’s noticeably flat chest and a haircut which could belong to someone of any gender further evoke a sense of androgyny.

While I'm not trying to prove anything with this or convince anyone Furina is canonically trans beyond that their original species does not have gender in the human sense, I hope that more people can open their hearts to a trans reading of the character. What delights me most about Furina is that no matter the specific interpretation you take—the Oceanid who dreamed she could be a human girl, the human who pretended to be a goddess when really he was nothing of the sort, or someone who's neither or even both—her story and character design resonates deeply. :)

[onlyonetifosi]

2 part to: The engineer

It was a sunny morning in Monaco, and Yn Leclerc sat at the breakfast table with her family. Her mother, Pascale, had just finished serving them a delicious meal, and now they were engaging in light conversation before Yn's graduation ceremony.

"Je suis tellement fière de toi, ma chérie," Pascale said, placing a hand on Yn's arm. "You've worked so hard for this day."

Yn smiled gratefully at her mother. "Merci, Maman. I couldn't have done it without your support."

Her brothers, Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur, nodded in agreement. They knew how dedicated Yn had been throughout her engineering studies, juggling her academic responsibilities and her part-time job.

Lorenzo spoke up, his voice filled with admiration. "Yn, tu es vraiment la plus intelligente d'entre nous. We're lucky to have you as our sister."

Yn's heart warmed at her brothers' words. She had always been proud of their achievements in motorsports, but sometimes, she couldn't help feeling a pang of insecurity. Being the only sibling pursuing higher education, she had often felt left out of their racing world.

"Merci, Lorenzo," Yn replied, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "I'm proud of all of you too, but sometimes I wish I could have been a part of the racing journey as well."

Charles, who had become an established Formula 1 driver, reached across the table and grasped Yn's hand. "Yn, we love and support you in everything you do. Racing might be our passion, but we know how hard you've worked for your degree."

Arthur chimed in, his tone sincere. "Exactly! We wouldn't be where we are without your unwavering support and encouragement. You're an integral part of our success."

Yn's eyes welled up with tears, and she squeezed Charles and Arthur's hands. "Thank you, both of you. I'm so lucky to have such amazing brothers."

Pascale, ever the nurturing mother, rose from her seat. "Enough of the mushy talk, mes enfants! We have a graduation to prepare for."

The family spent the next few hours together, helping Yn get ready for her big day. Pascale, a talented hairdresser, skillfully styled Yn's hair, creating an elegant updo. She then applied subtle makeup to enhance Yn's natural beauty.

As Yn looked at herself in the mirror, she felt a sense of confidence radiating from within. She was ready to face the world, armed with her education and the unwavering support of her family.

The graduation ceremony took place in a grand auditorium, with friends, faculty, and fellow students gathered to celebrate their achievements.

"Y/N Leclerc, s'il vous plaît, venez sur scène" Y/N's name was called, a sense of accomplishment washed over her. She gracefully walked across the stage, accepting her degree with honors from her professor, Madame Moreau. The audience erupted in applause, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude towards her family, especially her late father, who had instilled in her a passion for knowledge.

Y/N took a deep breath and made her way to the stage. Applause filled the room as she accepted her diploma with a radiant smile. In that moment, all her hard work and sacrifices felt worth it.

After the graduates received their diplomas, Y/N was invited to give a speech on behalf of her class. Standing at the podium, she felt a surge of confidence.

"Mesdames et messieurs, aujourd'hui, nous célébrons nos réalisations en tant qu'ingénieurs. Je tiens à remercier ma famille pour leur amour et leur soutien sans faille. Nous sommes tous ici grâce aux sacrifices de ceux qui nous ont précédé. En premier lieu, je tiens à remercier ma famille pour m'avoir soutenue tout au long de ce parcours. Votre amour inconditionnel m'a donné la force de poursuivre mes rêves. Aujourd'hui, je suis fière de dire que j'ai obtenu mon diplôme d'ingénieur avec mention." (Ladies and gentlemen, today we celebrate our achievements as engineers. I would like to thank my family for their unwavering love and support. We are all here because of the sacrifices of those who came before us. First I would like to thank my family for supporting me throughout this journey. Your unconditional love has given me the strength to pursue my dreams. Today, I am proud to say that I have graduated with honors as an engineer)

Her voice resonated through the auditorium, carrying her message of gratitude and determination. She acknowledged the challenges they had overcome and the dreams they now pursued.

"Nous sommes la preuve vivante que peu importe d'où nous venons, nous pouvons atteindre nos objectifs avec passion et détermination. Ne laissez jamais les obstacles vous décourager, et souvenez-vous que vous n'êtes jamais seuls. Aujourd'hui, nous sommes ici ensemble, en tant qu'une famille d'ingénieurs" (We are living proof that no matter where we come from, we can achieve our goals with passion and determination. Never let obstacles get in the way of you, and remember that you are never alone. Today, we are here together, as a family of engineers)

As Y/N concluded her speech, the room erupted into applause. The pride on her family's faces was immeasurable. Y/N had not only graduated with honors, but she had also inspired her peers.

Her family erupted into applause, their cheers blending with the thunderous applause of the crowd. Yn could see familiar faces in the audience, including some F1 drivers who had become friends with the little Leclerc because of Charles such as Max Verstappen, with his signature grin lighting up his face, stood up and clapped enthusiastically, Lando Norris and Pierre Gasly joined in the applause, their support evident.

Yn's heart swelled with gratitude. She had found her place, not on the racetrack but among these incredible individuals who recognized her dedication and achievements.

After the ceremony, the Leclerc family gathered for a joyous celebration. Laughter filled the air as they toasted to Yn's success. The F1 drivers joined in, sharing stories and lighthearted banter.

"Merci d'être toujours là pour moi. Je vous aime tous. (Thank you for always being there for me. I love you all)” yn said raising her glass, and the room was filled with cheers, laughter, and heartfelt conversations.

As the evening wore on, Yn found herself in a quiet corner of the room, reflecting on the day's events. She could feel her father's presence with them, despite his absence. He had instilled in them the values of love, unity, and unwavering support.

Charles approached Yn, a soft smile gracing his face. "You did it, Yn. Dad would have been so proud."

Yn nodded, tears of happiness brimming in her eyes. "I know, Charles. Today, I felt his love surrounding us."

The Leclerc siblings shared a warm embrace, a moment of connection and understanding that surpassed words. In that moment, they knew that their father's spirit lived on within each of them, binding them together through their shared experiences and unwavering support.

And so, the Leclerc family celebrated into the night, cherishing the triumphs, overcoming the challenges, and reaffirming their unbreakable bond. Together, they stood as a testament to the power of love, support, and the pursuit of dreams.

[coffee-blvck]

Missing Context - König

originally posted to my AO3 ~ coffeeblvck

translations posted at end of post ♡

The conference room is bursting with activity so early in the morning, packed like sardines now with new KorTac friends. It's meant to be an indefinite stay, the one-four-one allying with a handful of KorTac mercenaries. It had been a few weeks now, and they had proven themselves quickly, powerful allies both in the field and behind closed doors. No one had any reason to object the new additions thus far.

Price had chosen well, taking your suggestions on his pickings much to your pleasure. Years ago, before your own recruitment into the task force, you had spent a few months as a freelance medic under the French Parliament. You had worked closely then with a few squadrons in your time, but mostly under their Colonel before Price had hand picked you for the one-four-one.

You recall greeting the quiet Colonel with open arms on the helipad, a long overdue reunion. Price hadn't questioned your eagerness for the Colonel when you volunteered him, assuming naturally from your time freelance that you harbored some lasting bonds. Little did your captain know until after your input, how deep you bond truly ran with the Colonel.

Now, arms laden with a precarious tower of hot to go cups, you bustle towards that busy conference room. You were running late this morning, held up in the med-bay with an injury that was too stubborn to heal properly on a newer recruit.

Unaware of the conversation behind the thick wooden doors before you, and too focused on your leaning tower of caffeine to listen in, you kick open the door none the wiser to the towering Colonel's paper thin patience. You call into the room cheerfully, “Hello! Bonjour soldiers! Another beautiful day today, yes?”

A cacophony of laughter greets you, filling your ears and cementing you in the doorway. The door falls against you with a soft thud, though you hardly register the feeling of the stacked cups shifting precariously in your arms. Even Ghost is laughing, you notice, balaclava puffing with each quiet chuckle.

"Oh?" You breathe, lost for words with the sheer absurdity of the moment. Something had happened, something said that you had just barely missed. König, with his back to you just a heartbeat before, now stares at you in horror. You don't need to see his full face to notice, and you stare back just as shocked and confused as the laughter continues to swell in the room. Soap wheezes, folded over his propped knee.

Crossing the conference room in three swift strides, König is at your side, shock still prevalent in the dilation of his pupils. Tilting your head up to meet him, your greeting comes out more like a question than a fond hello.

“Bonjour, mon ange de la mort.” Had you done something? Had you put yourself at the butt of some shitty joke? Had you somehow ruined a moment that you couldn't possibly have prepared for? "Hello-" König clears his throat, trying to cover the straining nerves in his voice. “Vögelchen. Guten morgen.”

His accent had faded a bit throughout the years, though it always came back more prevalent when his nerves got the best of him. You had teased him over the years, whenever you found a moment when your time zones lined up for a phone call, that he was speaking too much English. That you could tell when something was on his mind in the way his accent betrayed him.

He really was nervous. What in the hell happened before you got there?

Brushing against you, König takes the brunt of the door away from your shoulders, one hand hovering beside the tower of drinks stacked in your arms. He ushers you fully into the room with his other hand pressed gently against the small of your spine.

Your questions remaining unanswered, König hovers cautiously over your shoulder all the way to the head of the conference table. You dont miss the slicing stares he throws about the room as he all but curls around you. He had always been careful to remind himself of your size difference, but now the endearment only made more questions buzz through your mind.

“I brought coffee…” You offer, the laughter finally dying away. “And tea, of course, just how you like it, LT.”

“Much obliged.” Ghost grunts his thanks, his tone back to the level coolness you were familiar with. You attempt to catch the colonel’s eyes with each drink you pass, to no luck. You feel it boring into the back of your neck when you turn away, but darting away to glare at someone else the moment you turn to him.

“Are you lot well and done?” Price barks, brusquely marching through the conference room to take his place at the head of the table, without so much as a proper hello. He accepts the coffee set in his spot with a nod and quickly delves into the debriefing as the task force starts to take their seats.

With each drink now with their respective soldier, you find yourself settling between the visibly tense König and Gaz as Price drones on about this new case load. The report had already been brought to your desk the night before, König as well, and the two of you had studied up the night before in your office.

You wonder suddenly if something had been said: if the usually daunting and terrifying colonel had been caught creeping from your room in the early hours of the morning. If they had seen through the façade of his late night escape and decided to grill your lover like a group of school girls afterwards.

It was none of their business, and you find yourself rolling your eyes at the childish antics these adult men seemed to still hold so dearly to themselves. However, you still silently hope that nobody had been awake late enough to hear what you had done after the two of you overviewed today's mission. It had been many months since you two had seen one another, felt another. You weren't going to waste any spare moment you had together.

You half listen as Price catches the rest of the task force up to speed, trying to shoo the memories away from showing across your cheeks.

+++

“You never filled me in on the gossip this morning, Colonel.” Dropping the load of bags at your feet, you let your hands rest on your hips. Busy preparing his own gear, with the helicopter's blades slicing through the air as it rumbles to life, you worry that König hadn't heard you.

König flashes you a glance. You watch him pointedly, going as far as to dramatically cross your arms and tap your foot against the asphalt as you wait. He had kept as much distance as possible from you after the debriefing, and even now he takes his sweet time adjusting and readjusting each of his straps before looking in your direction again.

Like hell if you were going to let him get away from this without explaining. "König."

“Oh.. that. Yes, of course..”

Stepping over your dropped cargo, you plant yourself as close to König as possible, practically stepping on the toes of his boots. You press a hand gently to his sternum, and follow his eyes as they trace up from your wrist over your chest, neck, and face, but never quite reaching your eyes.

"Need I remind you, schnecke, that I will be the one tending to your wounds, should you get any? Do you really want to avoid me?"

“No Vogelchen..” He sighs, his eyes dark and squinting against the wind whipping around the two of you. “I might… fuck... ich hätte vielleicht scherzhaft gedroht, die nächste person, die ich sah, zu schlagen, und diese person warst du.”

It takes a moment for your brain to unscramble the translation, but you can't stop the dumb smile from creeping across your cheeks as it comes to you. You laugh, clutching at your sides as the laughter pulses through you. König watches you warily, unsure if he was in the clear now or not.

“Mon ange,” You chuckle warmly, setting a hand over his heart. With you other you cup his chin, guiding his face to align with yours. All of this anxiety and confusion for a poorly timed joke. You feel the tension ebb away under your touch.

"You wouldn't dare," You add cheekily, dragging his face closer. His eyes glitter with a smile you know lies hidden beneath his mask as he bends to rest the crest of his helmet against your forehead. You stand there for many moments, lost in the beat of the helicopter blades and each other.

When he straightens, König stands a little bit taller now that the tension had dissolved between you. Brushing a gloved thumb over your lips, you relish in the faux kiss and smile.

Beyond the sculpted bulk of König's arm, as you lean to retrieve your supplies, you catch Gaz in the distance passing what you can only assume is cold hard cash over to Soap, who celebrates excitedly. You rolls your eyes, the hope you had at keeping your relationship under wraps now gone with the wind.

You make a mental note to beat Soap's ass after you return from this takedown, even more so as he feigns innocent confusion as you and König close the distance.

“Bonne chance, mon amour. Être bien.”

Translations: Bonjour, mon ange de la mort - Good morning, my angel of death Vögelchen. Guten morgen - Little bird. Good morning. Schnecke - Snail (a term of endearment for a loved one, usually reminding them to come out their shell) Ich hätte vielleicht scherzhaft gedroht, die nächste person, die ich sah, zu schlagen, und diese person warst du. - I might have jokingly threatened to beat the next person i saw and that person was you Mon ange - my angel Bonne chance, mon amour. Être bien. - Good luck my love, be well im so sorry if google translate did me dirty with any of these translations, a girl is trying her hardest out here.

[sansculottides]

Maximilien Robespierre was executed on July 28, 1794, or the 10th of Thermidor in the Republican Calendar. A conventional textbook may mark the end of the French Revolution with Napoleon’s coup in 1799. But Ralph Korngold, Marxist historian, wrote:

“No one man creates a revolution or carries it on, but the currents of revolution may sometimes range themselves in such a manner that the fate of one man becomes the fate of the revolution itself. ‘We did not realize,’ said Cambon, ‘that in killing Robespierre we would kill the Republic.” (From Robespierre and the Fourth Estate–the “fourth estate” here referring to the budding proletarian class of the time. Korngold gave particular attention to Robespierre’s role in the attempt to enact the Ventôse Decrees, the most revolutionary laws proposed during the Republic which would have expropriated the wealth of counter-revolutionaries to be redistributed to the propertyless.)

Napoleon’s ascent ten years after the start of the Revolution only marked the final stab in a Republic that was already good as dead. The death of Robespierre and his allies was the death of the Revolution’s radical aspirations, and allowed the propertied men to fully take charge. Though I also appreciate the sentiment that we can also mark the Revolution’s end a bit after Robespierre, with the death of Babeuf, the “proto-communist."

Anyway, what I really wanted to do was talk about a phenomenal short film that came out this year (on Robespierre’s birthday), “La mort de Robespierre” by smileyfaceorg/Janelle Feng (who has done so much amazing art about Robespierre and the French Revolution).

The film focuses on the night before 10 Thermidor, before Robespierre’s forceful arrest. This historical episode has been depicted before, in various ways. In the 1989 movie La Revolution Francaise, Robespierre had gone insane at this point, an interpretation that fed off of years of black propaganda. In Feng’s film, Robespierre is depressed, remorseful and self-loathing, an interpretation that does have its footing in historical record. In the months leading up to his arrest, Robespierre was frequently sick from the mental exhaustion of running and defending the Republic.

Mental health isn’t a new thing, though we have admittedly only recently begun to be articulate on the subject. Mental health amongst revolutionaries isn’t new either. Even Lenin died of sickness likely compounded by the stress of protecting the Revolution’s gains. In the 1871 Paris Commune, the commune council was “a working, not a parliamentary body [but] executive and legislative at the same time,” which allowed members to fully dedicate themselves to the cause of building a socialist future, but also burdened them with a punishing workload with little room for rest, and the mental exhaustion that naturally follows. I’m sure every person in any radical movement knows the weight of the struggle, but that’s one reason why it must be a collective effort.

At one point in the film Saint-Just looks at the 1793 Declaration of Rights on the wall and comments “To think we made that.” It’s another historically-rooted moment, as there was at least one eyewitness account claiming he did something like that on that night. I think the presence of the 1793 Declaration also ties the film in with the radical tradition of interpreting the Revolution. The ‘93 Declaration was more egalitarian than the initial 1789 Declaration, signed off by a pressured Louis XVI and also the one more textbooks would remember.

I love the use of comic elements too. Comic devices in film would make me think of stuff like Spiderverse or Scott Pilgrim where it’s fun and wacky, but in this film Feng uses comic devices to contract and expand space and time to an introspective yet claustrophobic effect. Especially the scenes where panels surrounded by negative space hint at Robespierre’s inner turmoil. It works really well; comic elements can work like poetry, after all.

I love stuff like this, art that is rooted in history (with quite scholarly rigor) while also aiming to go beyond academic scholarship. You can’t quite explore things like emotions and human experience the same way you can through art. Art like this film looks at historical facts and tries to fill in the gaps. How did they feel about this, what kind of effect did it have? And it explores how these historical people and episodes were human. More importantly, it does so with empathy and purpose, keeping in the “spirit” of the historical figures depicted. If you truly read Robespierre, you wouldn’t give in to lazy portrayals of a mad dictator. In contrast, Feng’s short film shows so much care and attention for this person in the past.

I’m so happy that someone like Feng is making art about the French Revolution. Most of the films, novels, games, etc that come out about the French Rev usually just follow the boring, very liberal and mainstream narratives, and calumnies about Robespierre being a dictator or various other kinds of monsters (not true). Korngold wrote about this too: “The Red Terror appears unpardonable to the Whites, and the White Terror to the Reds. Carlyle penetrates closely to the truth when he says that the reason the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution has received so much scathing comment, is mainly because it was directed against the privileged classes and their followers and not against ‘the voiceless millions.’”

Like the rest of history, our interpretation of the French Revolution exposes the undercurrents of ideology, conscious or not. Our ideas of who should be in power, who should be listened to. Ultimately, it did end as a revolution of the budding bourgeoisie, but before that defeat, there were revolutionaries who imagined and fought for a new future for all. Not just a political revolution, but a social and economic one. We should remember their revolutionary example. There is a reason, after all, why the Soviets held the likes of Robespierre, Saint-Just and Marat in high regard.

[lieutenantfloyd]

MW2 men + General headcanons

Includes: Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Price, Gaz, and Rodolfo

Ghost

Keeps a hello Kitty keychain in his pocket at all times (and can’t sleep without it)

Insists on getting stuffed crust every time he/someone orders pizza

Spends a lot of time daydreaming

Is always listening to music (It keeps him alert and helps keep his anxiety away)

Has bad sensory issues + ticks and intrusive thoughts

Hates cilantro (but doesn’t think it tastes like soap)

Isn’t allowed to use sharp objects in the kitchen

Sometimes eats toothpaste *as a treat*

Has a library card and only uses it to check out joke books intended for 3rd grader’s 

Never returns the books and now has thousands of dollars in late fees

Soap

His favorite food is cherry pie

 Eats multiple bowls of cereal a day (Price is becoming concerned)

Isn’t a huge fan of his Mohawk, but he thinks it makes him look tougher

Reads romance books in his free time

Meticulously shapes his eyebrows every few weeks

Drinks orange juice after brushing his teeth every morning

Spends way too much money on Marzipan De La Rosa + cries every time it breaks

Alejandro

Smells like vanilla, leather, and sage with a hint of roses

Keeps hard candy in his pockets at all times

Rudy is the only person he trusts to cut his hair

Lives on his family’s ranch outside of Las Almas

Frequently invites Los Vaqueros to his ranch and always makes sure they have a warm meal and a safe place to sleep

Comes from a long line of Vaqueros, and named Los Vaqueros in their honor

Gives great, albeit unsolicited, advice

His favorite song is California Love by 2Pac

Makes sure both TF 141 and Los Vaqueros know they can come to him for anything, even the most small of problems

Price

Has three older sisters

Is a natural ginger

Spent most of his childhood in Australia

Watches early 2000’s romcoms in his bunk when he’s deployed (and always ends up sobbing into his pillow)

Has a wide knowledge of Middle age and Saxon history

Loves a good mocktail

Reads a lot of Historical fiction

Has accidentally eaten dog treats (thinking they were cookies) on more than one occasion

His hat was a gag Christmas gift from Laswell but he thought it was serious + is his favorite gift he’s ever received

Dresses up as Santa every year and forces everyone to sit on his lap and tell him what they want for Christmas

Gaz

Didn't join the army when he was 18, and instead worked on yachts and charter ships for a few seasons

Struggles with self confidence + often feels like he doesn't belong with 141

Has very strong opinions on the PlayStation vs Xbox debate

Really admired Ghost, but is too nervous to tell him

His favorite video game is DBH

Is in a secret Book/Movie club with Price and Soap

Develops a crush on almost everyone he meets

Rudy

Has family in South Texas and spent a lot of time there as a kid

Has always dreamed of being a singer/songwriter 

Was a very shy/socially anxious kid (and still struggles with social anxiety)

Is a a massive soccer fan + was captain of the neighborhood soccer team

Growing up he spoke Spanglish at home. Which is why he doesn’t really have an accent despite understanding a lot more English than he speaks 

When speaking English he often trips over his words + has to ask Alejandro for the right word/translation

Is a follower, not a leader

is 4-6 years younger than Alejandro

Has several older sisters who helped raise him

First met Alejandro when he was 10-12 years old because he briefly dated one of Rudy’s sisters

After they broke up, Alejandro still came around to visit Rudy, and the two quickly became like brothers

Wasn’t interested in joining the Army at first, but Alejandro convinced him

[hpowellsmith]

New Game Announcement: Honor Bound, Crème de la Crème Series Book 4

Honor Bound is a standalone game that takes place four years after Royal Affairs, with a brand new player character.

The story so far: I started working on this game in March 2023. I'm currently writing the first draft of Chapter 4.

Chapter 1 is publicly available for everyone to play. Chapter 2 is going up on Patreon on 1st August. I also hope to post (roughly) fortnightly progress updates.

Play the public demo here!

You're a promising officer in the Teranese military, a force which has not seen major engagement in decades but which holds vast influence. Thanks to an injury, you're no longer in the field. Thanks to the circumstances of that injury, you've been quietly reassigned.

Now you're to be the bodyguard to the child of a famous scientist who is attending a wilderness boarding school for the children of the richest and most powerful figures of Teran society.

According to your mentor, it's an easy assignment. The school sits close to your own hometown, so you'll be familiar with the area; you can recover your health and get your career back on track. What could go wrong?

Bond with those around you or impress with aloof competence. Be a kind, trusted confidante to your charge, or a strict, stern caretaker. Work hard for glowing reports from your charge, your military superiors, or the Headteacher to get your life back on track - or risk it all as you uncover secrets that put you and everyone around you in peril.

Play as male, female, or non-binary; cis or trans; gay, straight, or bisexual; asexual and/or aromantic; allosexual and/or alloromantic; monogamous or polyamorous

Play a junior officer in your 20s, a mid-ranking officer in your 30s, or a senior officer in your 40s

Befriend or romance a severe military officer, a bold, easygoing outdoors expert, a determined and overworked priest, an earnest but airheaded fellow bodyguard, or the anxious, serious single parent of your charge

Shape the school life of your teenage charge: encourage her to make friends or sabotage her rivals, let her slack off or push her to achieve

Protect the school, town, and your charge from natural disasters and criminals, or use chaos to further your agendas. Build a warm community, stand apart to focus on yourself, or push tensions higher in a place where gossip is rife

Negotiate a cushy promotion, or open other doors, through heroic or devious actions. Or become such a disaster that only bandits will give you the time of day

Unearth and thwart shadowy schemes, or enact them yourself for your own ends

This tightly-knit desert boarding school is a sanctuary for artists and scientists of the future to flourish. But as danger closes in, how far will you go for your ambitions, your commanders, and your country?

FEEDBACK THREAD, INFO, & DEV DIARY | CHARACTER INTROS | PATREON DEMO | PUBLIC DEMO | BONUS PLAYABLE PROLOGUE