#le se young

[nunafilms]

What Comes After Love | Episode 1 사랑 후에 오는 것들 dir. Moon Hyun Sung

[affogonellamarmellata]

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[madeintrinafchelp]

EAST ASIAN FEM … J

❁ click on each tag to find the faceclaims resources ❁

❁ A-B | C-D | E-F-G | H-I | J | K | K-L | L

M-N | N-O-P | Q-R-S | T-U-V | W-X | Y | Z

[this-is-a-name-dont-worry]

Kyle et Julien, ou: les persos full comic relief que je peux pas m'empêcher de trouver tragiques à leur façon

[darkacua]

The Cain instinct

I demand canon moments where Silver and Malleus treat each other like siblings whenever they're alone, especially if Lilia or Sebek aren't around them. Where they show that outside of their typical treatment of respect is the fact that they were raised by the same man whom they both consider their father. They love each other eternally, they would kill, they would die and they are capable of destroying the entire world for each other, one to a greater extent than the other.

Especially since I'm sure they both have ridiculously strong Cain instincts.

One day you are a prince taking care of your caregiver's adopted son and the next a being who lives in an eternal circle of revenge and destruction towards the cruelty of humanity (Silver bit his finger when he was 8 years old and Malleus pecked his eye in Consequently, they continue to blame each other whenever they can)

Imagine a Silver who fell asleep in the forest and Malleus just finds him. If Lilia, Sebek or anyone was near him he would feign complete concern and take him to his bedroom. But he's alone, so he's going to wake up the young man he considers his brother with a loving kick in the ribs (nothing too hard, he wants to bother him, not kill him).

Or a malleus who is simply reading and out of nowhere feels a wet finger in his ear, a finger that belongs to a 17-year-old with a smile too kind for someone who has just drooled in the ear of the next king of the Briar Valley , and someone who is also a coward since he runs away the moment the older man gets up from his seat.

It is better if neither of them knows what is happening, they just know that there are days when they have to be mean to the other or they will go crazy, they have accepted it as a royal decree and will continue it until the end of their days. .

Imagine that no one knows about this kind of treatment, until someone enters Diasomnia only to find the all-powerful Malleus Draconia screaming like a dying child because Silver has him in a wrestling hold (which it is very obvious he can get out of, but… Where's the fun in that?)

Anyway, I need an irrational Malleus and Silver being a shitty little brother. I leave my delusions here.

a small second part

Español bajo el corte

Exigo momentos canónicos donde Silver y Malleus se tratan como hermanos cada vez que están solos, sobre todo si no están Lilia o Sebek a su alrededor. Donde muestren que por fuera de su típico trato de respeto está el hecho de que fueron criados por el mismo hombre al que ambos consideran su padre. Se aman eternamente, matarían, morirían y son capaces de destruir el mundo entero el uno por el otro, uno en mayor medida que el otro.

Sobre todo porque estoy segura que los dos tienen un instinto de Cain ridículamente fuerte.

Un dia eres un príncipe cuidando al hijo adoptivo de tu cuidador y al siguiente un ser que vive en un círculo eterno de venganza y destrucción hacia la crueldad de la humanidad (Silver le mordió un dedo cuando tenía 8 años y Malleus le pico un ojo en consecuencia, se lo siguen echando en cara cada que pueden entre ellos)

Imaginen a un Silver que se quedó dormido en el bosque y Malleus simplemente lo encuentra. Si Lilia, Sebek o cualquiera estuviera cerca fingiría completa preocupación y lo llevaría a su dormitorio. Pero esta solo, así que va a despertar a él joven que considera su hermano con una amorosa patada en las costillas (nada demasiado fuerte, quiere molestarlo no matarlo)

O a un malleus que simplemente está leyendo y de la nada siente un dedo húmedo en su oreja, un dedo que pertenece a un joven de 17 años con una sonrisa demasiado amable para alguien que acaba de babear el oído del próximo rey del Valle de Briar, y alguien que también es un cobarde ya que sale corriendo en el momento que él mayor se levante de su asiento.

Es mejor si ninguno de los dos sabe que es lo que pasa, solo saben que hay días en los que tienen que ser malos con el otro o se volverán locos, lo han aceptado como un decreto real y lo continuarán hasta el final de sus días.

Imaginen que nadie sabe de este tipo de trato, hasta que alguien entra a Diasomnia sólo para encontrar al todopoderoso Malleus Draconia gritando como un niña moribunda porque Silver lo tiene en una llave de lucha (de la cual es muy obvio que se puede zafar ¿pero dónde está lo divertido en eso?).

En fin, necesito un Malleus irracional y un Silver siendo un hermano menor de mierda. Hasta aquí dejo mis delirios.

[cubbihue]

¿como fue todo el proceso del pensamiento de "si, queremos que Timmy sea nuestro hijo y lo queremos ahora"? ¿ellos simplemente se lo llevaron o le dijeron a Timmy que los cuatro irían al mundo mágico prometiendo explicar después? ¿siquiera se lo dijeron a Peri? ¿como reaccionaron lod respectivos padres de Cosmo y Wanda (junto a los hermanos de estos mismos)? Me parecería algo comico si incluso hubiera algo de apuestas para ver cuanto tardarían Cosmo y Wanda en simplemente agarrar al niño y llevarlo al mundo mágico.

Nadie que no fuera un padre soportaría todas las locuras y problemas en las que se mete ese niño y seguiría con el voluntariamente y con la misma o más cantidad de amor que cuando lo conoció (todos lo sabían menos ellos)

[Due to the size, both translations are below the Readme]

It was a long and slow process! Peri was too young to understand, so he had to be told when he was older. Although Peri was never told the whole story.

Mama Cosma and Big Daddy knew it would happen eventually. They were very impatient to see their new adopted grandson.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

Translated Ask:

What was the whole thought process of like "yes, we want Timmy to be our son and we want him now"? Did they just take him away or did they tell Timmy that the four of them were going to Fairyworld, promising to explain later? Did they even tell Peri? How did Cosmo and Wanda's respective parents react (along with their siblings)? I'd find it kind of funny if there was even some betting to see how long it would take Cosmo and Wanda to just grab the kid and take him to the magical world*

No one who was not a parent would endure all the craziness and problems that that child gets into and would continue with him voluntarily and with the same or more amount of love than when he met him (everyone knew it except them).

*This word might mean Fairyworld, but the direct translation is "magical world"

--

Respuesta Traducida:

¡Fue un proceso largo y lento! Peri era demasiado pequeño para entender, así que lo tuvieron que contar cuando fue mayor. Peri nunca supo toda la historia.

Mamá Cosma y Big Daddy sabían que esto sucedería tarde o temprano. Estaban muy impacientes por ver a su nuevo nieto adoptado!

[purebloods-mudbloods]

—Sin duda, no me extrañaría que terminen fichando a algunos para el equipo— expresó mientras observaba a su amigo —¿Ernie se quedo con Phoebe? Por cierto le compre esto y no me digas que es muy pequeño para comer chocolate— no tardó en entregarle una rana de chocolate

– Te lo digo, esta va a ser la mejor temporada en años –aseguró. La temporada de Quidditch se venía fuerte, y él desde su posición con pasante de administración del equipo de Inglaterra tenía la oportunidad de verlo de cerca.

[onlyonetifosi]

Behind the camera: Netflix S7

hellooo beautiful people, how are you? hope you like the episode, comment if you want to be in the taglist

The episode kicks off with a chaotic scene at a Monaco supermarket. You, Charles, and Joris are pushing a cart down the aisles, filling it with essentials (and, in Charles’ case, a ridiculous amount of pasta and cheese).

"Charles, on a littéralement une cuisine pleine de pâtes," you say, eyeing the groceries. (Charles, we literally have a kitchen full of pasta.)

"C'est une semaine importante, je dois manger correctement!" Charles defends, tossing another pack into the cart. (It’s an important week, I need to eat properly!)

Joris smirks, glancing at the overstuffed cart. "Correctement ou comme un homme qui se prépare à l'hibernation?" (Properly or like a man preparing for hibernation?)

Cut to the checkout line. Charles confidently inserts his credit card into the machine, only for the machine to beep. Declined.

Silence.

You and Joris exchange looks before bursting into laughter.

"Leclerc, multimillionaire Ferrari driver, can't pay for his own groceries!" you tease, pulling out your own card. "Sérieusement, c’est quoi ce bordel?" (Seriously, what the hell is this?)

Charles groans, rubbing his temples. "C'est la banque, ils bloquent parfois ma carte quand j'achète trop à Monaco." (It’s the bank, they sometimes block my card when I buy too much in Monaco.)

Joris leans in. "Ou peut-être qu'ils savent que tu dépenses trop." (Or maybe they know you spend too much.)

The cashier chuckles as you hand over your card. "T’inquiète pas, Charlie, je t’enverrai la facture." (Don’t worry, Charlie, I’ll send you the bill.)

Charles rolls his eyes as you and Joris high-five.

Then the episode shows old footage: a young Charles, Y/N and Arthur Leclerc, karting together on a track. Their father, Hervé Leclerc, stands by, smiling. His voice, captured in an old interview, echoes through the scene.

"Ils ont toujours été rapides, mais Y/N aussi. Ils ont la course dans le sang." (They have always been fast, but Y/N too. They have racing in their blood.)

Charles, Yn and their childhood friends are on his yacht.

You and Alexandra are lounging on the deck, sunglasses on, watching the guys fool around and dare each other to jump into the water in the most ridiculous ways possible.

Riccardo stands on the railing. "Cinq euros si je saute en faisant un backflip." (Five euros if I jump with a backflip.)

Charles leans back. "Je te paie dix si tu rates et tombes comme un idiot." (I’ll pay you ten if you fail and fall like an idiot.)

Alex turns to you, shaking her head. "Ils n'ont pas changé depuis l'école, hein?" (They haven’t changed since school, huh?)

You smirk. "Pas du tout. Juste plus d'argent pour faire des conneries." (Not at all. Just more money to do dumb things.)

Riccardo jumps—flailing, belly-flopping straight into the water. The entire yacht erupts in laughter.

Charles claps dramatically. "Dix euros pour la pire tentative de l’histoire." (Ten euros for the worst attempt in history.)

Hugo and Nico grab Riccardo’s towel and refuse to give it back, leaving him shivering.

It’s midweek, and tradition dictates one thing: Charles gets his pre-Monaco GP haircut from Pascale, your maman.

The scene opens inside Charles’ Monaco apartment. He’s seated on a chair, cape around his shoulders, while Pascale meticulously trims his hair. You, meanwhile, are on the floor with Léo, Charles and Alexandra’s tiny dachshund, rubbing his belly.

Alexandra sits beside you, scrolling on her phone as you gossip.

Léo suddenly jumps onto Charles' lap, causing Pascale to huff. "Léo, arrête! Il va finir avec une coupe asymétrique!" (Léo, stop! He’s going to end up with an uneven cut!)

You and Alex burst into laughter as Charles tries to hold Léo still.

Then the episode shows all the Leclerc siblings—Lorenzo, Charles, Y/N, and Arthur—sit together on a Monaco rooftop terrace, sharing a meal.

Lorenzo pours the wine, acting like the responsible older brother he always is.

"C’est fou de penser que cette semaine, tu pourrais enfin gagner à Monaco," he tells Charles. (It’s crazy to think that this week, you could finally win in Monaco.)

Arthur smirks. "Ouais, ou bien il va encore maudire cette course." (Yeah, or he’s going to curse this race again.)

You laugh, nudging Charles. "Si tu maudis encore Monaco, je te déshérite." (If you curse Monaco again, I’m disowning you.)

Charles groans. "Pourquoi vous êtes toujours contre moi?" (Why are you always against me?)

Lorenzo chuckles. "On n’est pas contre toi, on est réalistes." (We’re not against you, we’re just realistic.)

Arthur raises his glass. "Allez, à la chance, parce que tu en auras besoin." (Cheers to luck, because you’re going to need it.)

Charles rolls his eyes but clinks his glass anyway. "À la famille." (To family.)

Then, Netflix transitions into dramatic music—because next comes the real test.

Cut to: Monaco, 2024. The weight of expectation hangs heavy over the weekend. Ferrari has given Charles a car capable of winning, but the question remains—can he finally break the Monaco curse?

"We were born eighteen minutes apart," you say in your Drive to Survive interview. "Charles has always been ahead. He was always ahead in karting… and now, he had the chance to be ahead of history too."

The Ferrari garage is suffocating with tension. You grip Arthur’s hand so tightly it’s cutting off his circulation, but he doesn't care. Your eyes are locked on the screen as Charles navigates the final laps of his home race.

Joris is beside you, pacing, muttering curses under his breath. Alexandra, Charles’ girlfriend, is clutching your arm so hard you think she might leave bruises.

"If something happens now, je jure que je casse tout." Arthur mutters. (I swear I’ll break everything.)

"He’s got this," you whisper, willing it to be true.

Then—the checkered flag.

Silence for a second. Then the Ferrari pit wall erupts. Engineers throw their headsets, people scream, and you—you can’t breathe.

"He did it," Joris says, stunned.

You don’t even think before sprinting towards the pit lane, pushing past Ferrari personnel until you see the monitors displaying the leaderboard: P1 – Charles Leclerc.

He won.

Charles steps out of his car to deafening cheers, his hands shaking as he pulls off his helmet. He looks around, eyes wide with disbelief, before covering his face with both hands.

Netflix cuts to the post-race interviews. Charles stands in front of the cameras, still breathless, the Monegasque flag draped over his shoulders. His voice wavers.

"The last laps… I was thinking about my dad," he says, swallowing hard. "It was our dream."

The camera zooms in as his eyes glisten under the harsh lights.

"The emotions started coming up two laps from the end, and I was struggling to see." He lets out a soft, breathy laugh, shaking his head. "On the last lap, coming out of the tunnel, I couldn’t see anything. I was crying."

You watch from the sidelines, biting your lip to keep from crying yourself. Your mother, Pascale, stands beside you, eyes glassy with emotion.

"Il l’a fait, Maman," whispers Yn. (He did it, maman.)

She nods, voice thick. "Oui. Papa aurait été si fier." (Yes. Papa would have been so proud.)

Charles looks over, eyes finding yours, and in that moment, you know—this isn’t just his victory. It’s yours, Arthur’s, your maman’s. It’s your father’s.

The curse is broken.

Later that night, Monaco is drowning in red. Jimmy’z is packed and half the F1 grid is there

And Charles? Charles is absolutely wasted.

You lean against the bar, watching your twin brother stumble onto the dance floor, a massive Monegasque flag draped over his shoulders like a superhero cape.

Pierre, already tipsy, claps him on the back. "Le Prince de Monaco!" (The Prince of Monaco!)

"Arrête, il va plus passer les portes de Maranello à cause de son ego!" you joke, shaking your head. (Stop, he won’t fit through the doors at Maranello because of his ego!)

Charles, oblivious to everything, wraps an arm around your shoulders, grinning like a madman.

"YN, j’ai gagné," he slurs, his voice thick with emotion. (YN, I won.)

Your heart clenches.

"Je sais, Charles," you whisper, reaching up to push a damp curl from his forehead. (I know, Charles.)

His green eyes shine under the club lights, and suddenly, the music, the people—it all fades away.

"Papa serait fier." (Papa would be proud.)

Charles nods slowly, pressing his forehead to yours for a second, then pulling away when Pierre drags him off for another shot.

Joris slides an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple. "He did it."

You glance back at your twin, now dancing like an idiot in the middle of the club, his long-awaited victory finally sinking in.

"Yeah," you murmur, the weight of years lifting from your shoulders. "He did."

And then the credits roll.

Bonus: Singapore GP Dinner At a restaurant in Singapore, with a view of the Marina Bay, the Leclerc family is seated—except Pierre Gasly, who is late.

And tonight, Charles is not in a good mood.

He did badly in qualifying, and it’s written all over his face—arms crossed, jaw clenched, tapping his fork against his plate.

Arthur, already sensing his bad mood, leans over to Y/N and whispers:

"Il va exploser sur quelqu’un, c’est sûr." (He’s going to explode on someone, for sure.)

Y/N sighs, watching Charles angrily flip through the menu. "Ouais, et ce sera Pierre." (Yeah, and it’ll be Pierre.)

Charles? Already ordering the food.

Alexandra looks around. "Euh… on n’attend pas Pierre?" (Uh… aren’t we waiting for Pierre?)

Without even looking up from his phone, Charles answers "Non." (No.)

Arthur snorts. "Pierre est toujours en retard, on sait comment ça finit." (Pierre is always late, we know how this ends.)

Charles doesn’t even hesitate—he calls Pierre.

The camera zooms in on his phone screen:

📞 Calling: Pierre

Pierre picks up on the third ring.

"Ouais, Charlie?" (Yeah, Charlie?)

Charles doesn’t even say hi.

"T’ES OÙ?!" (WHERE ARE YOU?!) he answers angrily

Pierre pauses for a second, like he’s debating whether to lie. Then:

"J’arrive, j’arrive! Deux minutes!" (I’m coming, I’m coming! Two minutes!)

Charles rolls his eyes. "Ça fait vingt minutes que tu dis ça, Calamar." (You’ve been saying that for twenty minutes.)

Pierre laughs nervously. "Je suis littéralement en route." (I’m literally on my way.)

Charles, completely done: "Ouais, bah moi j’attends pas." (Yeah, well, I’m not waiting.)

And with that, he orders the starters.

Fifteen minutes later, the restaurant doors swing open.

Pierre walks in with Kika and his trainer. He immediately spots the table—and Charles, who is already drinking and eating.

Pierre’s face drops.

"T’AS PAS ATTENDU?!" (YOU DIDN’T WAIT?!)

Charles, completely unimpressed, takes another sip of his drink. "J’avais faim." (I was hungry.)

Pierre drops into the seat next to Y/N, still offended.

"T’avais faim ou t’étais juste énervé après ta qualif?" (Were you hungry, or were you just mad after quali?)

Silence.

Arthur snorts. "Il va te tuer." (He’s going to kill you.)

Charles sets down his glass. "Tu veux vraiment me parler de qualifications, Pierre?" (Do you really want to talk to me about qualifying, Pierre?)

Pierre raises his hands defensively. "Okay, okay! Pas besoin de m’agresser." (Okay, okay! No need to attack me.)

Pierre finally starts eating, still shaking his head.

"Tu sais, je suis vraiment blessé, Charlie. J’aurais attendu pour toi." (You know, I’m really hurt, Charlie. I would have waited for you.)

Charles raises an eyebrow. "C’est faux." (That’s false.)

Arthur, smirking, nods. "Mens encore." (Lie again.)

Pierre sighs dramatically, stabbing his fork into his food. "Vous êtes horribles." (You’re all horrible.)

The Netflix camera cuts to Charles, calmly chewing his food, absolutely ignoring Pierre’s whining.

taglist: @love4lando@gcldtom@im-mi@hiireadstuff@celesteblack08@reblog-princess@sunf1ower16@janeholt3@athena-artemis-dorian-gray@minkyungseokie@tesi1

[little-mari-on-a-roof]

Frenglish differences in Miraculous - Episode 2

The Bubbler/Le Bulleur

This one's not really a difference, more of a double meaning that gets lost in translation: in French, the verb “buller” also means "to laze" and is a subtle reference to Nino's cool and laid back attitude (which is demonstrated more literally by him blowing bubbles during the episode).

Adrien, talking about his father

En: I'm pretty sure he was a downer back then too.

Fr: Je suis sûr qu'il a toujours été vieux jeu, même jeune.

I'm sure he's always been old fashioned (lit. "old game"), even when he was young.

I can't believed they missed out on Adrien making a hilarious joke!! And it actually would’ve been even funnier in English since “old fashioned” can be a reference to Gabriel’s job.

Chloé to Marinette

En: Out of the way.

Fr: Dégage, boulet.

Go away, boulet.

Here, “boulet” ("ball" as in "ball and chain" or cannonball) is a word used as an insult to qualify a person who is annoying or drags/weighs you down, like the ball attached to a prisoner's chain. Chloé uses that word very often when talking about Marinette in French.

Chloé

En: Happy birthday Adrien.

Fr: Bon anniversaire Adrichou chéri.

Happy birthday dearest Adrikins.

The nickname Chloé uses for Adrien in the French dub is over the top while she only says his name in English.

Chloé about the delivery men

En: Those slackers.

Fr: Les petites natures.

Lightweights. (lit. "Little natures.")

In French the emphasis is put on the workers being weak, when they're lazy in the English dub (it's just a linguistic difference here).

Alya, to Marinette

En: Don't be a pushover, literally.

Fr: Te laisse pas faire tu vaux mieux qu'elle.

Don't let yourself be pushed around, you're (worth) better than her.

Alya sounds more supportive in French.

Marinette talking to the house camera when leaving her gift at Adrien's house

En: [...] ... did I already say that?

Fr: [...] cadeauuu!!! pour Adrien.

giiiift!!!! for Adrien.

Just Marinette being awkward in slightly different ways (I didn't put the whole quote since the rest of it is pretty similar in both dubs).

Alya, to Marinette

En: Girl, girl, girl

Fr: Marinette, Marinette

I'm not translating that one for obvious reasons, but I noticed that whenever Alya calls Marinette "girl" in the English dub (not just now but also later in the episode), she actually says her name in French. It's not a big deal but I just thought it was interesting.

Nino leaving Adrien's house after being kicked out by Gabriel

Fr: Ouais c'est ça au revoir.

Yeah, right, goodbye.

The sentence was deleted in the English dub.

Adrien to Nino, about his father

En: It's just best to stay out of his way.

Fr: Vaut mieux faire ce qu'il dit, c'est plus simple.

It's best to do what he says, it's simpler.

I didn't really pay attention to this one back when I was taking notes of the differences but it hits different after the sentibeing reveal 🥲.

Hawkmoth

En: It won't be long before Ladybug and Cat Noir show up to meet their doom.

Fr: Ladybug et Chat Noir ne tarderont pas à se montrer pour leur dernière danse.

It won't be long before Ladybug and Chat Noir show up for their last dance.

One of Gabriel's many puns, since it refers to the party that the Bubbler is throwing thanks to his new powers.

The Bubbler after Ladybug changes the music that was playing

En: Dude, who just hijacked my mix?

Fr: C'est quoi ce truc ? Qui a osé remixer mon mix ?

What's that? Who dared remixing my mix?

I think "remix my mix" is very funny.

Ladybug, replying to him

En: Yours truly.

Fr: DJ Ladybug.

She <33.

At one point, ladybug calls the Bubbler "DJ bubulle", which is a way of making fun of him since “bubulle” is a cute word for bubble (bulle in French).

Hawkmoth

En: You can't run forever, Ladybug.

Fr: Tu ne tenvoleras pas éternellement, Ladybug.

You won't fly forever, Ladybug.

A little pun that got lost in translation.

Adrien to Nino about his awesome new scarf

En: Yeah. Can you believe my dad got this for me? It's so awesome. He's given me the same lame pen for three years in a row.

Fr: Ouais, j'arrive pas à croire que mon père aie fait ça pour moi, tu te rends compte ? D'habitude il oublie tout le temps le jour de mon anniversaire.

Yeah, I can't believe my father/dad did this for me. Do you realise? He usually always forgets my birthday.

I can't tell which one is sadder :')). Also, "mon père" can be translated as either father or dad so I left both since I think it would be more likely for him to say "father", but the official translation chose to have him say "dad".

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Howdy! It's me again

How are you? I hope you are fine, and if not, then I encourage you from here!

Well, I would like to order something in which our dear Willy gets a little jealous because someone entered the factory and started flirting with his partner (reader) And that leads to a very affectionate moment between reader and Willy

Por cierto, qué le pones a los pedidos que escribes? Los siento muy emocionantes y me ponen a chillar a veces SJSGGWUW

(By the way, what do you put in the orders you write? I find them very exciting and they make me scream sometimes)

.—🌻

Tensions in the Factory [W. W]

Willy Wonka x fem!reader

word count: 1.7k

nota: ¡me hace muy feliz que te guste lo que escribo! creo que sólo se trata de hacerlo con amor (¿o algo así? jaja) Lamento haber tardado, entré a un trabajo durante vacaciones y apenas me queda tiempo, pero espero que sea de tu agrado, girasol:)

[ENG: It makes me very happy that you like what I write! I think it's just about doing it with love (or something like that? haha) I'm sorry it took me so long, I started a job during vacation and I barely have time left, but I hope you like it, sunflower:)]

taglist: @dyieying @reallysparklychaos [Timothée masterlist]

“Your factory is impressive, Mr. Wonka,” said the man next to the boy, with a satisfied smile on his face after the tour he had given him.

Willy was pleased with the investor's recognition that he intended to finance a new branch for Wonka chocolates and if everything continued as expected, he knew that that same afternoon they would be signing a contract.

“I'm glad you like it. This is where all the magic happens, so I hope that with that new store things are even more promising for us.”

He wanted to add something else when, suddenly, he was interrupted by the vision of a person; it was you, beckoning to him from the other side of the factory with a board holding papers. He knew it had to be something important or else you would have waited, so he apologized to the young man at his side and walked quickly until he reached you.

“Oh, I'm sorry to bother you, but one of the machines that churns the chocolate is jammed and making a mess in there, do you think you can check it?” you murmured, sounding slightly worried about the situation.

“Yes, I'll go right away. While you will talk to Mr. Salt? Tell him to excuse me for a moment”

"Yes, I will do it"

“You're an angel, thank you for letting me know,” he said goodbye, gently caressing the side of your face and practically running to solve the problem you had just told him about.

The man looking at you curiously from the other side couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than Willy and he was handsome, dressed in a gray formal suit that was worthy of a businessman. You had heard that he had a lot of money and although at first the chocolatier was not very convinced, after thinking about it better he believed that it was a good time to expand his horizons; that included having more stores to sell more chocolates. He had told you about the idea and you had been excited about it, so you motivated him to contact interested businessmen.

Although you didn't really enjoy talking to strangers, you took a deep breath and walked over to where the man was to greet him.

“Mr. Salt?” you said timidly, to get his attention. He watched you for a moment and when he got a better look at you, then he smiled hugely.

“Just call me Henry, Henry Salt. It's my pleasure," he replied, reaching out to shake your hand a little longer than expected. "Are you Mr. Wonka's secretary?"

It wasn't the first time a guy thought that about you, after all you were always behind your boyfriend with that board in your hand, writing things down, checking the operation, and reminding him of everything, however, Willy had always said that you were his partner and he wouldn't expect anyone to disparage your position: this factory belongs to both of us, he always said. 

But it was easier to say yes than to explain all that.

“Something like that. He asked me to tell you that he had to attend to an emergency, but that he will be right back.”

"Oh, sure. There is no problem with it as long as you keep me company” he said happily.

The man was looking at you up and down, as if you were the most interesting thing he had seen in the factory so far, but you didn't notice it, because you were too focused on the thought of how Willy was handling the machinery.

“Did you like the factory?” you exclaimed, trying to get a topic of conversation that would kill the silence that had enveloped you.

You could tell that he was an educated man, because he immediately started talking to you about the structure of the building, finances, what a good investment it would be to open a branch and also about how much he loved chocolate.

“I have a daughter named Veruca. She is just a baby, but I hope to be able to give her everything she wants in the future. I only plan to work to fulfill her whims”

“Ow, that's sweet,” you tried to flatter. At least his motives were noble.

“She looks a little like you, actually. You are very beautiful"

You had to admit that the comment threw you off, but you still laughed nervously. Maybe he was just trying to be nice to you, so you could persuade Willy to close the deal with that man.

“Huh, I appreciate it, Mr. Salt.”

“What are your favorite chocolates? I imagine that being here you eat them in droves, right?” he murmured.

You hoped that with that the conversation would take a different direction, so you started talking to him about all the types of chocolates that Willy prepared for you: the sweet ones, some salty ones, the magical ones, the strange ones...

“But I think my favorites are definitely the mint chocolates. They may be simple, but Mr. Wonka prepares them in an exceptional way," you said dreamily, remembering that upon discovering it he had prepared an entire jar just for you.

“When the branch is open, you can stop by to eat all the mint chocolates you want. At a special price for special ladies”

You laughed at that, not so much out of desire but out of commitment to the potential client. Suddenly a hand was placed on your waist and when you turned in the direction of the body that had approached you, you noticed that it was who it could only be. You frowned slightly when you noticed that he was frowning, as if something had bothered him.

“I'm sorry I was late. Everything is in order now, would you like to accompany me inside, Mr. Salt?” he said. His voice sounded calm and stern, without that cheerful tone he always had, and he still had one hand planted firmly on your body.

“Of course,” the chocolatier made a sign for the opponent to start walking and he did not take his eyes off him at any time, noticing that Mr. Salt was looking at you with the same interest.

If he was unhappy with something, he didn't say it, and he just left a gentle kiss on your head.

“See you in a bit, okay?” You nodded and pushed him just a little, inviting him to follow the businessman you had just spoken to. He got lost down the hallway and you returned to your tasks, not imagining the feeling that was bubbling in your partner's chest.

“That man is a complete idiot.”

You were surprised to hear the boy use those words and, above all, by the furious tone with which he had expressed himself. You interrupted your tasks of making dinner to pay attention to him.

“Who are you talking about?

“From Mr. Salt, of course! I didn't sign the contract with him. Don't even think about it, he's a… a complete nutcase”

"What are you talking about? What happened?" you asked, completely surprised by what he was telling you. You put everything aside to approach him and held his face to analyze his expression: it was extremely strange to see him this upset “Honey?”

“He was flirting with you! Don't think I didn't notice, when I left, he... he started talking to you that way. And not satisfied with that, he called you my assistant and then he hinted that he wanted a romance with you. He said punctually: I hope that, if I open this new branch, you will send your pretty assistant to help me with everything necessary” he was red with anger as he said that and he had to breathe for a moment to compose himself. "So I told him immediately that there was no deal if he dared to talk about my wife like that.”

There was too much to process at once. You felt disgusted at the idea that another man had shown interest in you, but at the same time you were surprised by how he had reacted. Willy wasn't a possessive husband, but right now you were feeling something strange about this side of him.

“You don't have to worry about that…”

“Of course I have to. You're beautiful and I'm sure everyone realizes that, but I won't let anyone look at you like he was looking at you. It is my job to protect you and that includes not entering into relationships with those who want to take advantage of you.”

He sounded sincere and passionate when he spoke, convincing you that he was very serious about the matter. Contrary to what he expected, you smiled and cupped his cheeks again to kiss him on the lips. He melted at the touch, you knew it by the way his shoulders completely relaxed and his hands came up to hold your elbows during the seconds you were kissing him.

Once he was more relaxed, you spoke.

“It's all right, love. Can you calm down?” you asked him. Your hand began to gently caress his cheeks and your eyes looked pleading, something he couldn't resist. “You shouldn't have wasted such an opportunity, but... I appreciate that you rejected it. For me"

“I would do anything for you,” he said immediately. Suddenly he felt the urge to kiss you again and he did, deeply and lovingly. You didn't resist.

“You're my only boy, you know that? No one in the world could take me from your arms” 

“That's not my fear, I know that nothing can separate us” he assured you, smiling from ear to ear. That's how sure he was about yours, that agreed with the pair of rings on your fingers “Besides, there will be more opportunities, you don't have to feel guilty about anything.”

“I don’t,” you exclaimed, to reassure him. You knew he had done the right thing and you loved him for it “Are you hungry? I'm making you something for dinner” you confessed and then he nodded.

He could smell what you were cooking and when you reached out to stir the contents of the saucepan with a stick, he hugged you from behind, starting to talk about something more trivial than that failed business and feeling clearly relaxed, now that he knew he was and he would always be the only owner of your heart.

[ilikeit-art]

Saype, born Guillaume Legros, is a French artist living in Bulle, Switzerland. A self-taught artist, Saype’s giant biodegradable artworks adorn fields, are best seen by drones and last only days. The artist is represented by MTArt Agency since 2018. Beginning his career as a young graffiti artist, Saype’s work quickly gained recognition and became highly sought after, resulting in him landing his first gallery exhibition at age 16. Saype is a pioneer of the land art movement, focusing upon large scale biodegradable paintings with strong social messages.

Using 100% biodegradable paint composed of water, chalk, coal and casein, Saype’s ephemeral land artwork disappears after a month due to regrowth of the grass it is painted upon, the weather and the passage of visitors. With each project he completes, his recognition grows, capturing the attention of those on social media as well as landing extensive global media coverage. Career highlight for Saype have included gaining thanks from the Swiss President, Doris Leuthard, for the social vision of his art, in 2017, and following that in 2018, the publication of his book, ‘Green Art’, which highlights the innovative qualities of the biodegradable paint Saype has created.

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode illustrée, no. 49, 9 décembre 1883, Paris. Toilettes de Mme Coussinet, rue Richer, 43. Collection of the Rijksmuseum, Netherlands

Robe en moscovite gris acier, velours ciselé et soie brochée de même couleur. La jupe courte en moscovite uni, disposée en gros plis tuyaux, est garnie de quatre plis. Une écharpe en soie brochée est drapée sur le devant de la jupe et reparaît pour former le pouf par derrière. Très grand gilet Louis XV, en velours ciselé, avec jaquette Louis XV, faite en muscovite unie. Cette jaquette est largement ouverte sur le gilet. Sur le bord inférieur de celui-ci se trouve une fente dans laquelle passe l'écharpe, pour former des paniers sur les hanches et pouf derrière.

Dress in steel gray Muscovite, chiseled velvet and brocaded silk of the same color. The short skirt in plain Muscovite, arranged in large pipe pleats, is trimmed with four pleats. A brocaded silk scarf is draped over the front of the skirt and reappears to form the pouf at the back. Very large Louis XV waistcoat, in chiseled velvet, with Louis XV jacket, made of plain Muscovite. This jacket is widely open on the waistcoat. On the lower edge of the latter is a slit through which the scarf passes, to form baskets on the hips and pouf behind.

—

Toilette de jeune femme. En satin merveilleux bleu pâle uni. Jupe ronde, garnie devant en tablier de quatre larges bandes de velours grenat. Tunique à paniers sous laquelle tombe de chaque côté un panneau plat entouré d'une broderie représentant des roses nuancées depuis le rose pâle jusqu'au grenat. Le corsage, fait en forme de guimpe, boutonné derrière, montant, est froncé à l'encolure. Collier de velours grenat, noué sur le côté, relevant une ruche de dentelle blanche. A l'extrémité des manches, bracelets de même velours, avec nœud pareil.

Young woman's ensemble. In plain pale blue marvelous satin. Round skirt, trimmed in front in an apron with four wide bands of garnet velvet. Tunic with paniers under which falls on each side a flat panel surrounded by embroidery representing roses shaded from pale pink to garnet. The bodice, made in the shape of a wimple, buttoned behind, rising, is gathered at the neckline. Garnet velvet necklace, tied on the side, raising a ruffle of white lace. At the end of the sleeves, bracelets of the same velvet, with a similar bow.

[abejaenacuarela]

📼📼📼

Un resumen de mí año.

De mis obsesiones del año. Todas tiene que ver con casettes y cintas y grabadoras. Muy nostálgico todo.este dibujo lo empecé en agosto.

• do not repost, use or steal my art •

👁️Jonathan Sims / The archivist. The Magnus archives:

Le puse camperita náutica a Jon porque es el capítulo en el que está en un barco con basira y "se encuentran" con un flaco que laburaba para salesa que les cuenta cómo consiguió salesa la cámara de fotos (aka MAG 141). Also la pose es rara pero se supone que se está apoyando con el brazo en una baranda atrás, hay que usar un poco de imaginación.

⚔️Camilla Hect/ Palamedes Sextus. The locked Tomb:

I really like how Camilla turned out but also it's my first time drawing her because I've just been obsessively drawing griddlehark all year. I couldn't give her the arm muscles she deserved tho.

🧛‍♂️. Young Daniel Molloy. Interview with the vampire:

I hate how Daniel turned out but I couldn't just exclude him lol.

Also un poco me molestaba el ruido de fondo así que agregue una slide con los personajes sobre fondo blanco. Los casettes están semitraceados de una foto porque necesitaba que fueran bonitos y simétricos.

[vividiste]

"SIETE VOI CHE AVETE INIZIATO A METTERE I PALETTI :

La nostra generazione era tollerante.

E non lo sapeva.

Vi siete inventati il fluid gender e di conseguenza, l’omofobia.

Io vengo dalla generazione che ascoltava e amava David Bowie e Lou Reed, e non si è mai posta il problema di che preferenze sessuali avessero.

Fregava niente, anzi, contenti loro e in qualche caso beati loro.

Elton John, Freddie Mercury, George Michael.

Siamo anche la generazione che amava i Led Zeppelin, i Deep Purple, Neil Young, gli Eagles...

Senza porsi il problema dei testi che oggi sarebbero giudicati sessisti.

Quando arrivò Boy George non ci chiedemmo se gli piacesse il maschio, la femmina o tutti e due.

Ci godemmo semplicemente la sua musica e quando Jimmy Somerville ci raccontò la sua storia di ragazzo di una piccola città, ci commuovemmo e cantammo insieme a lui. Non c’erano leggi a costringerci a essere solidali o quantomeno partecipi.

Non c’erano minacciose commissioni o attenti guardiani a censurarci se ci usciva una battuta.

C’era Alyson Moyet, allora decisamente oversize, ma bellissima e bravissima, e nessuno pensava valesse meno di una Claudia Schiffer...Anzi.

Vorrei capire che è successo nel frattempo, perché tutti questi censori hanno l’unico effetto di creare quello che censurano.

Secondo me eravamo tanto più avanti senza imposizioni, perché le imposizioni si sa, spesso generano l’effetto contrario."

Gisella Ambrogetti🌻

Fonte fb

[arte-e-homoerotismo]

Richard Bennett by Danny Fitzgerald (1921-2000)

Richard Bennett

Com o início da década de 1960, Fitzgerald conheceu Richard Bennett, o homem que se tornaria seu colaborador e parceiro de vida até a morte de Fitzgerald em 2000. Uma beleza masculina esculpida com a habilidade natural de um poser artístico clássico, Bennett veio para Nova York da classe trabalhadora de Scranton, Pensilvânia, em busca de trabalhos de atuação e modelagem. Ele aparentemente foi atrás de Fitzgerald, enviando seu currículo a Fitzgerald por meio de um entusiasta no Bronx que estava familiarizado com a estética do fotógrafo.

“Danny era hipnotizante”, Bennett relembra de seus primeiros encontros com Fitzgerald. “Ele podia falar sobre qualquer coisa — arte, literatura, ópera, cinema — e as pessoas realmente o ouviam.” As únicas notas de Fitzgerald sobre Bennett falam da admiração da modelo pelo fotógrafo e da disposição pessoal de participar das próprias fotografias. “Depois das fotos (8 rolos)”, Fitzgerald observa em seu diário, “coloco uma nota de dez no bolso de Richy: ele responde fracamente 'não é necessário — eu gosto tanto quanto você.'”

À medida que Bennett se tornou o modelo principal de Fitzgerald, seu trabalho mudou rápida e dramaticamente, incorporando o drama visual de fotógrafos e cineastas modernistas e rompendo com os clichês da fotografia "beefcake" da década anterior. As influências de fotógrafos como Alfred Eisenstaedt e dos cineastas Leni Riefenstahl e Sergei Eisenstein se tornaram mais aparentes no trabalho de Fitzgerald. Suas fotografias começaram a evidenciar a maestria técnica e a sensualidade contida do fotógrafo de nu masculino anterior, George Platt Lynes, embora menos teatral e com maior realismo.

Em pouco tempo, Bennett se mudou para a casa de Fitzgerald e eles começaram a tirar fotos juntos em todos os lugares. Nos anos seguintes, eles levariam a câmera do estúdio de fotografia improvisado no segundo andar de sua casa para as praias de Nova Jersey, para as florestas da Pensilvânia Ocidental. A fotografia de Fitzgerald se destacou com Bennett como seu colaborador, e eles logo formaram uma rotina que atraiu outras modelos também.

Foi então, com o naturalmente gregário e musculoso Bennett ao seu lado, que Fitzgerald, agora com quarenta anos, retornou às ruas de Carroll Gardens com sua câmera e a confiança que havia reservado para o mundo fora do Brooklyn . Ao longo dos seis anos seguintes, ele fotografou os jovens das ruas do Brooklyn enquanto eles se encolhiam entre as barbatanas traseiras de seus Buicks ou contra a cerca de arame da quadra de basquete local com a sensualidade ardente de um quadro urbano de Cadmus. Ele os pegou brincando nas ruas ou perambulando sob a Ponte do Brooklyn, capturando suas emoções e beleza fugazes. E então, ele frequentemente os atraía para seu estúdio para tirar suas roupas para uma série de nus de bom gosto e a oportunidade de um pouco de liberdade dos rigores do bairro lá fora.

Bennett era a isca do fotógrafo. Fitzgerald às vezes fotografava Bennett na rua ou na floresta antes de qualquer outra pessoa, chamando a atenção do outro modelo em potencial com o físico fino de Bennett e sua habilidade de posar. Então Fitzgerald bajulava o outro jovem pedindo que ele posasse também, dando ao garoto a impressão de que ele era tão atraente e fotogênico quanto o fisiculturista Bennett. Era uma rotina que eles repetiam várias vezes da Henry Street até os poços de natação ao redor de Scranton, às vezes fotografando Bennett com seu novo modelo, muitas vezes permitindo que Bennett ajudasse com a câmera e a pose — uma rotina dramatizada com licença poética pelos editores da edição de novembro de 1963 do The Young Physique:

Hector Ramon nunca apareceu diante de nenhuma câmera até ser descoberto por Les Demi Dieux, e isso aconteceu por meio da famosa estrela de Les Demi Dieux que se tornou o favorito de todos: Richard Bennett.

Richard, é claro, magnetiza a todos... ele é tão gentil e gentil e tem maneiras tão bonitas que a pessoa é instantaneamente atraída por ele, como Hector era. No breve período em que se conheceram, eles se tornaram realmente bons amigos, e foi assim que Richard convidou Hector para acompanhá-lo e a um grupo de modelos Les Demi Dieux em uma expedição fotográfica ao ar livre para o que Richard chama de "aquele lugar encantado" na floresta, que todos vocês conhecem tão bem agora.

Hector foi junto de bom grado, e em seu jeito quieto e introspectivo observou muito e disse pouco. Notando isso, o sempre sensível Richard perguntou: "Por que você não se junta a nós em nosso grupo eurythmics, Hector? Depois disso, sempre temos nosso estudo da natureza na poesia e Les Demi Dieux lerá para nós Leaves of Grass, de Walt Whitman. Isso nos colocará no clima e no espírito desta floresta assombrada e trabalharemos em algumas poses criativas nas quais você é bem-vindo para participar."

A linguagem da literatura, arte e dança clássicas, que pode parecer pitoresca, se não pretensiosa, para o leitor contemporâneo, era um conceito comum com o qual os homossexuais de meados do século XX disfarçavam seus interesses, seja para codificá-los para um público interno, seja para dar ao que era considerado vergonhoso pela sociedade em geral um contexto mais nobre e filosófico para eles mesmos.

Novamente, é importante lembrar que isso foi no início dos anos 1960 e a homossexualidade era ilegal, banida para bares clandestinos, encoberta ou tão reprimida que até mesmo homens como Fitzgerald podem não ter admitido isso — nem para si mesmos — e certamente não teriam falado sobre isso abertamente ou ostentado isso publicamente. Como muitos artistas da época, Fitzgerald sublimava sua energia sexual no processo de fazer sua arte, mantendo a distância adequada entre ele e seu modelo e carregando as imagens com todo o poder e desejo dos sentimentos que ele pressionava para baixo na obra.

Similarmente, em seu próprio relacionamento, Bennett e Fitzgerald eram muito homens de seu tempo. Até hoje, quando perguntado se ele e Fitzgerald eram "amantes" ou "parceiros" (palavras que são anacrônicas para o início dos anos 1960), Bennett simplesmente, calmamente responde, "Nós éramos amigos, no sentido grego da palavra", deixando a interpretação para a própria sociedade, e conectando seu cuidado e afeição um pelo outro ao seu amor pela beleza clássica, filosofia, literatura e as eras.

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Historians having takes on frev women that make me go 😐 compilation

Sexually frustrated in her marriage to a pompous civil servant much older than herself, [Madame Roland] may have found Danton’s celebrated masculinity rather uncomfortable. Danton (1978) by Norman Hampson, page 77.

The Robespierres sent their sister to Arras because that was their hometown, the family home, where they had relatives, uncles, aunts and friends, like Buissart who they didn’t cease to remain in correspondence with, even in the middle of the Terror. There, among them, Charlotte would not be alone; she would find advice, rest, the peace necessary to heal her nervousness and animosity. Away from Mme Ricard, who she hated, away from Mme Duplay, who she detested, she would enjoy auspicious calmness. It is Le Bon that the Robespierres will charge with escorting their sister to this neccessary and soothing exile. […] If there is a damning piece in Charlotte Robespierre's case, it is this one (her interrogation, held July 31 1794). She seems to be caught in the act of accusing this Maximilien whom she rehabilitates in her Memoirs. She is therefore indeed a hypocrite, unworthy of the great name she bears, and which she dishonors the very day after the holocaust of 10 Thermidor. Charlotte Robespierre et Guffroy (1910) in Annales Révolutionnaires, volume 3 (1910) page 322, and Charlotte Robespierre et ses mémoires (1909) page 93-94, both by Hector Fleishmann.

Elisabeth, as she was popularly called, was barely past her twelfth birthday, younger even by three years than Barere’s own mother when she was given in marriage. On the following day the guests assembled again in the little church of Saint-Martin at midnight to attend the wedding ceremony of the handsome charmer and the bewildered child. Dressed in white, clasping in her arms a yellow, satin-clad  doll that Bertrand had given her — so runs the tradition — she marched timidly to the altar, looking more like a maiden making her first communion than a woman celebrating a binding sacrament. Perhaps the  doll, if doll there was, filled her eye, but certainly she could not fail to note how handsome her husband was. Bertrand Barere; a reluctant terrorist (1962) by Leo Gershoy, page 32.

The young nun who bore the name of Hébert did not hide her fate. She did not wish to prolong a life stifled from her childhood in the cloister, branded in the world by the name she bore, fighting between horror and love for the memory of her husband, unhappy everywhere. Histoire des Girondins (1848) by Alphonse de Lamartine, volume 8, page 60.

Lucile in prison showed more calmness than Camille. Before the tribunal, she seemed to possess neither fear nor hope, she denied having taken an active role in the prison conspiracy. What did it matter to her the answer they were trying to extract from her? They said they wanted her guilty? Very well! She would be condemned and join Camille. This was what she said again when she was told that she would suffer the same fate as her husband: ”Oh, what joy, in a few hours I’m going to see Camille again!” Camille et Lucile Desmoulins: un couple dans la tourmente (1986) by Jean Paul Bertaud, page 293.

What did it matter to Lucile whether she was accused or defended? She had no longer any pretext for living in this world. She was one of those heroines of conjugal love who are more wife than mother. Besides, Horace lived, and Camille was dead. It was of the absent only that she thought. As for the child, would not Madame Duplessis act a mother's part to him? The grandmother would watch over the orphan. If Lucile had lived, she could have done nothing but weep over the cradle, thinking of Camille. Camille Desmoulins and his wife; passages from the history of the Dantonists founded upon new and hitherto unpublished documents (1876) by Jules Claretie.

Having been widowed at the age of 23 [sic] years, Élisabeth Duplay remarried a few years later to the adjutant general Le Bas, brother of her first husband, and kept the name which was her glory. She lived with dignity, and all those who have known her, still beautiful under her crown of white hair, have testified to the greatness of her sentiments and austerity of her character. She died at an old age, always loyal to the memory of the great dead she had loved and whose memory she, all the way to her final day, didn’t cease to honor and cherish. As for the lady of Thermidor, Thérézia Cabarrus, ex-marquise of Fontenay, citoyenne Tallien, then princess of Chimay, one knows the story of her three marriages, without counting the interludes. She had, as one knows, three husbands living at the same time. Now compare these two existances, these two women, and tell me which one merits more the respect and the sympathy of good men. Histoire de Robespierre et du coup d’état du 9 thermidor (1865) by Louis Ernest Hamel, volume 3, page 402.

Fel free to comment which one was your favorite! 😀