#ne respectent plus

[observatoiredumensonge]

Le créateur du chaos

Mais quel mauvais président nous avons là !

Temps de lecture = 4 minutes N’est autre que Macron, qui s’obstine à “déconstruire” la France Par Alexandre Goldfarb Continue reading Le créateur du chaos

[empirearchives]

Lucien Bonaparte said of Napoleon: “I honor him, I respect him, I admire him as head of government, I no longer love him as a brother.”

Brb sobbing

(Source)

[imminent-danger-came]

hi! im the anon that left a really long ask about misogyny in the lmk fandom lol (İ dont have a response completely written yet, while İ do have more to talk about on the subject İ feel like a lot of it might come off as repetitive, also my ask draft is like twice as long as the first ask LOL) but ive seen you talk about about thinking about watching revolutionary girl utena on here and if you havent watched it yet id really reccomend watching it! it has a lot of the same themes as lmk (and utdr which is also something ive seen you talk about! (btw id like to hear your thoughts on utdr if you want to talk about it on here!)) so i think youd like it if you watched it! İm going to try to be vauge abt themes and topics discussed in rgu for the sake of spoilers (also i dont want to present the idea that theres a "correct interpretation" of utena because i feel like thats reductive to the narrative the show presents), but i do want to say that if you do decide to watch it you should really take a look at its trigger warnings. utena as a show does go into some very dark topics and themes and has a laundry list of content warnings that İ dont think is worth skipping . İ think it handles them well for a 90's tv show but İ think it should be mentioned regardless. i also think that something that you should know before going into it is just how much it relies on a symbolic narrative in the sense that if you arent interested in analyzing it then you probably wont get as much from the show just because of how surreal it is, İ dont think this makes rgu a worse story at all (in fact İ think it makes it better because i lets it take into account different audience interpretations and opens the room up for a lot of different analysis) BUT its something id keep in mind before watching the show lol (also i think that if you watch rgu and you like it, another thing you'd probably like is omniscent readers viewpoint! im not great at summarizing things so im not going to go too in depth on it, theres a good summary on tumblr by the user ot3 that İ think is good. my personal take on it from where İ am in the novel is that its basically like if you put lmk and utdr into a blender and then made that into a novel... (theres also a webtoon adaptation but imo its kind of bad bad)) anyway İ hope you havent watched rgu already or else this ask will be really embarassing lol.

tldr: lesbian swordfight anime is Cool and you should watch it it totally wont change you as a person ahah a

No I totally haven't watched rgu yet! I just reblog some of the stuff I see for future me who has

I totally want to though (the content warnings aren't anything that squick me), it seems interesting and you know I love me some symbolism and a meta-narrative that wants you to engage with it on a higher level. And also lesbians

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

non mais le fait qu'au tout début les Croûte font un plan pour avoir des trucs venant de Donatien car il a l'air riche...

Leur plan c'est vraiment:

Step 1: Accompagne Donatien à son domaine

Step 2: ????

Step 3: Possède maintenant un téléphone, ses bottes, son vin, et son domaine

Et le plus beau dans tout ça c'est que d'une certaine façon, ça fonctionne <3 un plan qui aura pris deux semaines et quelques kidnappings

[jezatalks]

Ces derniers temps, j'apprend à me connaître et comprendre comment je fonctionne parce que baaah, tous les conseils que je vois/ai pu voir/que l'on m'a donné me correspondent pas, ou pas longtemps dans la durée.

C'est pas évident car même quand je cherche des conseils pour neuroatypiques, bah c'est des scientifiques ou parents d'enfants neuroatypiques qui les donnent, donc ça marche pas forcément (et c'est pour les enfants des dits parents la plupart du temps...)

Donc depuis quelques semaines, j'essaye de "suivre mes pulsions". Donc c'est hyper chaotique vu de l'extérieur MAIS au moins j'entame plein de projets !!! Et en avance voir finalise la plupart.

Donc ça concerne pas mal mes hyperfixations du moment (l'apprentissage du japonais, mon dossier pvt ou encore les préparatifs pour le stream) mais également les tâches ménagères.

Bon, pour ce dernier point, c'est pas le plus top car je m'arrête avant que la tâche soit terminée (comme les autres pulsions hein).

Mais au moins, je fais une partie de la vaisselle au lieu de "non, je dois d'abord terminer X chose avant de passer à la suivante" alors que si je fais ça, je pense trop à ma pulsion d'action, et avance pas vraiment ce que je suis sensée terminer avant et ne touche à rien de la suivante. Et je suis frustrée.

[thiphus]

Je suis un peu inquiète par la montée du puritanisme dans la sphère du RP. Ça ne devrait pas être quelque chose de surprenant, ça suit inévitablement le mouvement que l’on voit de plus en plus sur certains types de réseaux sociaux, avec une chasse au sexe, à la représentation et tout ce qui est jugé peu ou pas en lien avec les bonnes mœurs. C’est triste, car après nous être battus pour une libération sexuelle, on part dans l’effet inverse.

Je ne prêche pas pour ma paroisse, je joue très peu de smut, ce n’est pas quelque chose qui m’intéresse plus que ça, mais je vois de plus en plus de comportements très sectaires de plus en plus de joueureuses. J’ai vu des gens regretter qu’il y ait autant de smut ou de fos +18, des gens faire la morale à d’autres pour vouloir jouer un certain type d’orientation sexuelle (qu’il y ait ou non idée ou sous-entendu que le personnage n’aurait pas une libido ou un rapport à la sexualité normal (et qu’est-ce que c’est qu’un rapport normal, au final ?)), j’ai vu des gens demander à ce que le RPQ soit limité à des fos privés, j’ai vu beaucoup de gens crier à la fétichisation (sans être soi-même concerné par l’identité concernée, ni réellement savoir ce qu'il en est de la personne en face), j’ai vu des gens faire des remarques déplacées lorsqu’un kink / pratique sexuelle peu courante était mentionnée à coup de « il y a des choses qu’il ne vaut mieux pas savoir », etc.

Est-ce qu’on prône la tolérance ou est-ce qu’on est en train de demander à des gens de se cacher pour avoir une libido ? Je voudrais rappeler, quand même, qu’une grande partie des créations littéraires (ou de la fanfiction) qui fonctionne contient du sexe, que ça soit uniquement grivois ou outrageusement explicite. Le désir sexuel et l’excitation est une chose normale, ne pas en avoir ou peu en avoir l’est aussi, mais c’est un mécanisme qui ne devrait pas être caché. La plupart des fos ont adopté un système de TW, de CW, de hide et de floutage pour ce genre de scènes, et il me semble que la plupart des gens respectent ces règles.

Je pense qu’il faut aussi rappeler qu’un personnage RP n’est pas une personne réelle, qui ne représente pas une situation universelle ou réelle, n’est (normalement) pas la personne derrière l’écran et n’est pas le vecteur de la morale et de l’éthique de cette même personne. On peut écrire quelque chose sans vouloir soi-même le reproduire IRL, on peut écrire quelque chose parce qu’on le fantasme IRL mais qu’on n’a pas l’occasion ou l’envie de le faire soi-même, on peut écrire quelque chose parce qu’on joue avec des poupées et que faire cette chose est un moyen de détente. On peut aussi écrire quelque chose parce que c’est un moyen pour nous de nous sentir mieux, d’explorer des mécanismes, de les comprendre, parce que certains ont besoin de revivre des scènes ou de les créer. On n’écrit pas uniquement pour écrire du juste, du bon, du réel, de la morale ou de l’éthique.

Je crois qu’il faut aussi se rappeler de temps en temps, car ça fait du bien, qu’on ne sait pas grand-chose de la personne en face. Partir du principe qu’une personne est forcément non éduquée, forcément cis hétéro, surtout sur une communauté aussi queer, qu’elle n’a aucune expérience de ce qu’elle joue ou aucune connaissance est un risque moral personnel. A vouloir chercher le mal partout, on finit par le trouver, ou pire l’imaginer. Notre expérience personnelle n’est pas universelle, l’expérience de la personne d’en face non plus, et chaque témoignage apporte de nouvelles visions, mais ne suffit pas à permettre de parler au nom de toutes les personnes. A trop voir le mal, on perd de vue le principe du RP : l’écriture et le plaisir du jeu.

[charlie-lec-stories]

Drama King // CL16 & MV1

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character / Max Verstappen

Summary: Already used to Max's shenanigans, Y/N finds out that Charles with the flu can be quite a challenge.

Warnings: None, this is fluff, fluff and even more fun. (Only one paragraph about homophobic Jos Verstappen)

Author’s Note: Gees, there's nothing worse than a guy with the flu. Also, there's a little introduction of Max and Y/N's parents and the relationship they have with their children. Rate: PG

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

She was used to Max being a drama queen, after so many years being friends, she already knew how he could turn a minimal problem into a world-ending alarm. His computer froze for 5 seconds? It was probably broken. He couldn't find his phone? He probably lost it forever. He was hungry? He couldn't function until he ate. She had fun with that, because Max's little drama stunts were never something that came without a good laugh for her. She would watch him run around the room looking for his phone, or quickly throwing a tantrum when his computer'd go slower than he'd like it. Charles was a lot more composed, which was also funny because he was the one that go into serious trouble more often. He set his dinner on fire? It wasn't that bad, he's not afraid of fire. He's at the police station because he tried to jump the fence when he forgot his keys? Just a little inconvenience and he made new friends! He hurt his hand trying to fix the toaster he just broke? Well, he has a lot more blood in his body, nothing to worry about. Sometimes she wished that Charles would take the bizarre situations he got himself into a little more seriously.

But she takes that wish back, dear God, she takes that back.

It all started with winter break, they were off season and they had been together for a year now, their first anniversary on the 26th of December. Charles, who loved to spoil his partners, decided that they deserved a week for themselves, before they all had to part for New Year's celebrations with their respective families. Plus, they knew that Max was less than happy to have to spend the holiday with his father, so the idea of chilling together, somewhere away from the world was more than appealing. The Monegasque made a reservation at a very private cabin complex, where they could be alone in the middle of nowhere, in Germany. From the 25th at night all the way to the 31st at noon, they would turn off their phones and ignore the rest of the world. Max was more than happy for that, he needed to recharge batteries before facing his father, and Y/N knew that this little trip was perfect for her to sleep all the hours she missed that season. It was the perfect plan, and it went amazing. They relaxed in the woods, lit a bond-fire, swam on the lake, and the cabin even had a jacuzzi, which they used every day. But, when they finally went back to reality on the 31st, happy memories weren't the only thing that Charles brought back home with him.

"Tu es pâle, mon garçon". (You look pale, my boy). Pascale, Charle's mother, said when he arrived at her door for New Year's dinner.

"Je vais bien, ne t'inquiète pas, Maman". (I'm fine, don't worry, Mom). She wasn't convinced, and she was proven right when Charles started coughing in the middle of their meal. The poor man started his new year with a fever.

Arthur called Lando, who made up an excuse and called Max. The Red Bull driver was supposed to spend a week with his father, Jos, the two of them going on a "healing" trip to "help Max outgrow his queerness". The moment he got the call from Lando about "Sassy being sick", he canceled his plans with his father and flew back to Monaco. His father was more than displeased with that, and didn't believe a thing his son told him, but he decided to keep his thoughts to himself. He had an already difficult relationship with his father, coming out as having two partners and having to tell him that they were his rivals was not something he needed to do at the moment. Jos Verstappen hated Y/N with passion, and it was a mutual feeling. He believed that the girl wanted to distract Max on purpose, to take advantage of that on the races. He also believed that she was trying to get into Max's pants to "trap him" with a kid. But, he would rather have her as his daughter in law than a man. He had never been as mad as when he discovered that Max was bisexual, the idea of having his son dating another man was his worst nightmare. He made it his life goal to "cure" Max and his son knew that if his father ever knew that Max was skipping his trip with him for Charles, he would straight up force Max into an asylum. Jos disliked Charles the most, after Lewis Hamilton, so if he didn't like the idea of Max dating a man, he would probably lose it with the fact that he was dating Charles.

Max made it back to Monte Carlo on January 2nd, but he called Y/N to let her know that he could take care of Charles and she should enjoy her time with her family. She had a big one, and she didn't get to see them much, he didn't want her to miss that chance. He could deal with Charles for a week, how hard could it be? She thanked him and let him know that she could fly back if he ever needed her, but he assured her that they would be alright. At the airport, he was welcomed by Lando, who coincidentally came back home from England to prepare everything for his New Year's party, a tradition he started two years prior and that was the most awaited event of the grid. The brit offered Max a ride and, together, they made their way towards the apartment that Max shared with his partners. Lando lived just a block away and offered to help out if he and Charles needed anything. He also let Max know that Oscar, Alex and George were flying to Monaco on the 4th, to help him out with the party, so there were going to be some extra hands. Max felt grateful, even if his father was not there for him, he had his grid family that loved him for who he was.

"Charlie? I'm home!". He called out when he opened the door. Usually, Charles would drop whatever he was doing to greet him and ask about his day. He was an active listener and enjoyed asking people things, but this time he was greeted by the faint sound of a cough and the pets, Pete, Charles' golden retriever, and his two cats. He dropped everything he had in hand and quickly walked to the bedroom followed by Pete. "Hey, Poepie, how are you feeling?". (Sweetie),

"I think I'm dying". Max had to actively do an effort to suppress his laugh. Charles was on the bed, the blanket up to his neck and his voice was barely over a whisper, but he was definitely not dying.

"I think you're doing pretty well!". Max said with a smile and sat on the bed next to Charles, but he pushed Max away. Pete jumped on the bed.

"Don't get close!". He yelled as loud as he could and then coughed again. "You'll get sick too and this is a nightmare".

"Charlie, it's only the flu. I'm Dutch, I'm used to cold weather and never get sick". He placed his hand on Charles' forehead and noticed that his boyfriend was burning up. "Don't worry about me".

"At least you got away from your dad". Charles said as he did the best he could to sit up. Max helped him a bit.

"Yeah, your stuffy nose definitely saved me from that". Charles smiled, his eyes shining in a mix of sadness and fever. He hated Jos for everything he put Max through.

"I'm your knight in shining armor, even when I'm sick". Max laughed out loud and Charles followed, but started coughing again.

"Okay, Sir Charles, let's make you some tea to warm up that throat".

The first night was terrible, Max didn't sleep, not even one second, Charles turning around and whimpering all night, uncomfortable and bothered by the fever. He was cold and hot, all at the same time, so he was pulling at the sheets constantly. Max wanted nothing more than to go to sleep on the couch, but he couldn't leave Charles alone. He turned the Monegasque around and spooned him to keep him from moving too much. They slept through the morning hours, until the pets woke them up asking to be fed. Max got up at lunch time to feed them and make some soup for Charles. He had two big black spots under his eyes and every now and then, a yawn would escape his mouth. Y/N texted him, asking about Charles and how he spent the night. Max didn't want her to worry, so he told her that Charles slept like a baby. It wasn't exactly a lie, never specified which type of baby, he slept like a possessed baby. Charles' fever went down through the day, but he still felt like he didn't have any strength. The medication was doing its magic, but he was probably going to get a fever again at night. And Max was right, Charles' fever came back the second night, sentencing Max to another sleepless night.

"If I die, I leave my sim to Y/N and my underwear to you". Charles told him at 3 am as they were cuddling. Max snorted, almost offended.

"I'm the one taking care of you and I get the underwear while she gets the sim?". Charles looked up at him in the dark, his eyes narrowed. "Make your own soup tomorrow, traitor".

"My underwear it's all Ferrari!". Max already knew that. "It's really important to me. I don't know what you're complaining for".

"It's a good thing you're not dying". Max chuckled and they fell silent for a few minutes.

"If I die and you don't wear that underwear, I'm haunting your ass". And he knew that Charles meant every word.

On the 4th, Lando called Max to let him know that the boys had arrived and offered to stop by and help out a bit. Charles was in a good mood, after Max promised to use the Ferrari underwear if he died, meaning that the visit was a good way to keep up his good spirits. While they waited for their friends to arrive, Max called Y/N to give her an update. She scolded him for refusing to wear the Ferrari briefs, and then she thanked him again for taking care of Charles all on his own. She was convinced that it was an easy task, Max was the drama king after all, but she was grateful anyways. Max decided not to tell her how much of a pain in the ass Charles could be, he would rather have her believing everything was alright. He took Pete out for a quick walk and then went to feed his little demons again, Sassy and Jimmy already planning on eating Charles if he let another minute pass without feeding them. Lando arrived with Oscar, George and Alex, and they all ran to the bedroom to say hi to Charles, but he had a fever again, and what they found was anything but festive.

"You look like shit". Lando said without thinking, and Max hit the back of his head.

"You don't, Charlie". But the Monegasque was already mentally writing his will.

"It's okay, dying must be the only thing that doesn't look good on me". Max rolled his eyes.

"We should help you get better". Oscar added, willing to help. The other three looked at him with their noses scrunched.

"I think we're all more useful at a safe distance". Alex looked around the room as he made the comment, looking for a place he could sit down and not get too close to Charles.

"It's just the flu, stop acting like he's got a deadly disease". But they all ignored Max as Oscar organized them to cover all of Charles' needs.

"Alex, you'll make the food. George, you'll bring Jimmy and Sassy, since Pete's already here. Lando, you'll pick a movie. I will gather all the blankets I can find. And Max...". Oscar looked at him, unsure of what Max could do. "You'll comfort him, but please, keep it decent".

"I'm not doing that while you guys are here". Max said, annoyed.

"Just making sure!". Lando laughed as he remembered the situation in the hotel room.

Oscar's plan was kind of chaotic, as always. While Max laid on the bed with his sick boyfriend, he could hear Alex fighting with the kitchen, George chased the cats around the house and Oscar opened every closet in the apartment looking for blankets. To add to that, Lando just couldn't pick a movie, going through all the streaming platforms and genres. Charles still acted as if he was dying and even though Max loved every person in that house, he was too sleep deprived to tolerate the chaos. After an hour, George walked in with Sassy and Jimmy, his shirt covered in holes and wearing kitchen gloves. He placed the cats on top of Charles and they both snuggled on his chest, purring and relaxing against their Papa. Max looked at George worried, as the brit just kept a wary eye on the cats. He couldn't help but chuckle at the situation, Sassy and Jimmy were the most loving cats in the world, but they loved to drive people crazy. Alex brought to the room the worst soup Max had ever tasted, but Charles was so sick that he couldn't even taste anything, so it wasn't a problem. Oscar placed all the blankets on top of Charles and, even though Max thought Lando would never pick anything, he actually did, and they all sat in the room to watch it together. Charles was finally asleep after 30 minutes and Max had never felt more relieved.

Around 6 pm they all left and Max took the pets to their beds. Pete slept on a pretty fancy bed that Charles had brought for him, it had Ferrari's emblem all over it, still, the dog loved his Red Bull toy, no matter how many times Charles took it away from him. Max gave Pete the toy and the dog curled up on his bed, ready to sleep, hugging the toy. Jimmy and Sassy had high beds, ones that Max had attached to the wall so they could sleep as up high as possible. He told them to go to bed, in Dutch, since it was the only language they understood, and they both obeyed instantly. If there was something that Max loved about their pets was how well behaved they were, George might not agree with that, but that seemed like George-problem to Max. After everyone was on their beds, Max went back to his room and lied next to Charles, his little snores making Max smile. Maybe they could finally sleep for a few hours. But they didn't. Charles' fever came back and he started moving around again. At some point, Max even heard him crying.

"Charles, are you okay?". Max asked as he turned Charles around to look at him and see if he could find what was hurting. "Does anything hurt?".

"I don't know!". Charles said, already done with being sick. "I just feel like shit and I'm tired and my head hurts... and... and my throat is sore!". Charles complained in between sobs. "And my nose is so stuffed! I just want to feel better and do my things, like training and going out. And I miss Y/N too".

"Charlie, it's okay". Max tried to comfort him, ignoring his own tiredness as best as he could. "Be patient, you'll feel better soon. I promise".

But Charles kept turning around all night again, coughing, mumbling, sighing loudly, blowing his nose. Max was close to losing it. There is so much time one can spend not sleeping and Max was close to his breaking point. At 4 in the morning, he got up and decided to call Y/N. She was in Buenos Aires, so it would be around midnight there, she was definitely up, no one slept early in Argentina. He felt terrible calling her to complain about their boyfriend, but Max just couldn't take it anymore, he needed to sleep and their friends were too loud and energetic to actually help. He confirmed that the day before. So she was his last resort. He sat on the toilet with the lid down, looking at his phone and re-thinking about calling her or not. She was having fun, spending some time with her family, people she missed all year round, he didn't feel comfortable ruining that, but he didn't know what to do. He heard Charles cough from the room and dialed his girlfriend's number. It rang a few times, then, he was met with the sound of music and people speaking loudly.

"Hey, Maxie, it's everything alright?". She greeted him. He could hear her friends mocking her, saying "Maxie" over and over again, her grandmother scolding them, and Y/N laughing at the situation. "Wait! It's like 4 am there. Max, is Charles alright?".

"YES". He quickly reassured her when he noticed how worried she was. She sighed in relief. "I just...".

"What is it?". He heard the noise turn down, she had probably moved away from people so they could talk better.

"I lied to you. Charles has not been easy to deal with. At all! He's terrible, and I miss my sleep and we miss you and he's coughing all the time and the guys came by and it was a mess...". He kept rambling about how the last few days had been horrible for him and she patiently listened to him. It was bad that Charles was still with a fever, that wasn't normal, since he was taking medication for that, but Max was also someone who could escalate a situation pretty quickly, so it was hard for her to know exactly if the situation was that bad. Nonetheless, she let him let it all out, once she noticed that he was done, she offered a solution.

"Listen, Amor, give me two days. Tomorrow I will say goodbyes and then I'll be on the first plane I can catch, okay?". She heard him let out a breath he had been holding. "We'll take care of him together".

"Thank you, Schat, thank you so much". He said, feeling a lot better.

On the 6th, around 8 pm, Y/N finally got back home. She slowly opened the door, Pete went to her to greet her. She patted his head and scratched the back of his ears, earning a little huff of approval from the dog. Sassy and Jimmy went next, rubbing against her legs and meowing, showing their Mamá how much they missed her. She tried to shush them, noticing that Max and Charles were probably sleeping. Quietly, she dropped her suitcase by the door and took off her shoes, walking around the dark apartment towards the bedroom. The door made a minimal cracking sound as she pushed it open softly and she cringed about it, but she discovered that her boys were wide awake inside, completely unbothered by the sound of the door. Charles was in a semi-awake state, his eyes glossy and forehead shiny with sweat, probably still with a fever. Max was next to him, his eyes tired and the bags under them prominent, like he hadn't slept in days. The Dutchman's eyes light up with her presence, the tiredness still there but now mixed with relief.

"Schat!". He jumped up and ran to her, picking her up and spinning her a few times, before he set her back down and kissed her, like his life depended on it. Maybe his sanity did. "You're here!".

"Yeah, how have you guys been?". Max was frowning at her instead of answering her question. "What?"

"Weren't coming back tomorrow?". She was the one frowning now. "I told you we could wait, I can't believe I made you leave your family so soon".

"No, Amor, I said two days, that was the day before yesterday". She went to the bed and sat down, placing her hand on Charles' face and caressing his cheek.

"No no, today's the 5th, Schat".

"Max, it's January 6th". She took her phone out of her pocket to show him the date. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I don't know...". Y/N looked at him, worried, taking into his pitiful state. Charles was still out so she got up and dragged Max to the living room. They sat on the couch and he rested his head on her shoulder.

"You should sleep here tonight, I'll look after Charlie". He hummed in agreement. "Did you guys eat already?". Max nodded. "Good, then lie down and rest".

"Thank you, Schat".

Max lied down and closed his eyes, falling asleep instantly. Y/N walked back to the room, changed for the night and got into bed with Charles. He had the flu, how bad could it be? Really bad, she discovered that night. The Monegasque spent the night complaining, she wasn't able to close her eyes for a minute. Between Charles' never ending turning and how tired she was from the trip, she was wishing she could go to the living room with Max. When the morning light came, she was still awake and extremely tired. Charles was the most annoying patient in the world. If he was complaining like that for the flu, what would he do for a stomach bug? They were lucky that Charles rarely got sick. Max went to the bedroom around 11 am, better rested and ready to treat his girl better than last night. But she was looking just as miserable as he did the past few days. Charles was finally asleep, so she got up and the two of them went to the kitchen for breakfast. Max, with more energy than her, made some Stroopwafels, while Y/N just rested her head on her hand, slumped over the table.

"I think it's time for Charles' meds, Amor". She told him after a few minutes in silence. "Where are they?".

"First drawer, my nightstand. It's a bottle that says-"

"Paracetamol, I know, my mother's a doctor, remember?". He noticed the pain in her voice, under the tiredness, but he chose not to keep up the conversation about her mother, she was not rested enough to talk about that woman. She walked back to the bedroom and opened the drawer, the bottle being the first thing she saw.

"Here's a glass of water". Max told her as she walked up to him, the bottle in her hand.

"Have you been giving Charles this?". She showed him the bottle.

"Of course, every 8 hours". He proudly answered.

"It's expired, Max". His smile dropped instantly. "This expired in 2020".

"You're fucking with me". He took the bottle from her and inspected it. "It can't be expired".

"This is so old I wasn't even in F1 when it stopped being useful". She ran her hands down her face and sighed. "I'll run to the pharmacy and buy a new one. Of course he's not feeling better, the meds don't work once they are expired, it's like giving him nothing".

Y/N brought a new bottle of medication and Charles was already feeling better that night. They all finally got some proper sleep. The next morning, Charles was a new man, back again with his good spirits and big smiles, as if he hasn't been the most over dramatic person for the last few days. Max and Y/N were still exhausted as he walked into the kitchen for breakfast.

"I can't believe you flew all the way back here just for the flu, Amour, it wasn't that serious!". He told Y/N as he took a bite of his Stroopwafels. "And I took it like a champ".

"Yeah, sure, Corazón". She said, condescendingly.

"Get sick again, Charles, and I'm personally burring you with your Ferrari underwear, you fucking Drama King".

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This one is pretty long, but i had fun writing it! Hope you guys like it!

[callofdudes]

Hiya! How are you doing? Hope you doing okay. Btw, if you have time, can I request TF141 with Fem! Reader who is emotionless. The men’s went to visit Y/n place for her birthday but they heard loud bark in her house. When Y/n open the door the men’s are pin down by a lot of puppies. They though she has scary dog only to meet cute puppies. Imagine when the men’s see Y/n cuddle/hanging out with her puppies and she her smile a bit during her birthday they be like ‘Dammit! So cute!’ And almost faint seeing the light above of her like an angel.

Thank you for being so patient anon, I'm trying to get these done, ahh!

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Ghost is pretty used to how you act on base, and while he doesn't exactly trust the whole emotionless thing (that's his thing, back off his permanent emo phase) he does give you space and respect you.

So much so when you invited him to come over after a long mission needing a break from life, he just decided to except. To hell with it, at least he knew you wouldn't bother him.

And plus, it was your birthday in a couple days so what was the real harm in saying no??

So he shows up with his bags a couple days later, not expecting anything special until he rang the doorbell.

Now.

Simon.

Loves.

Dogs.

There are few things he loves more in this world than tea, arson, and dogs. So when he hears a bunch of barking he rightfully assumes you have a dog, unless you just have that playing to scars people, which he wouldn't put it past you.

You come to the door, struggling to open it before he's bombarded at the glass screen, seeing a bunch of tiny puppies jumping and wagging their little tails in excitement to meet a new person.

And Simon nearly dies of how utterly fucking cute that is. You open the door and their jumping at his legs, yipping as he comes in and puts down his bag, on their little legs rushing to sniff the new item in the home.

"Sorry about them." You apologize.

Simon shrugs, melting. "That's alright."

The puppies are pretty adorable, one of them even wants to sleep on his bed with him. And Simon gets used to them, pulling them into his lap and stroking them, cradling them, occasionally following you when you take them for walks.

But when you're both sitting in the living room, Simon scrolling through his phone and you on the TV. He can't help looking over and seeing two of them curled up on your lap and passed out. The others all snuggled close as you barely cling on to the TV remote.

He stares, lip turning up slightly under his mask, seeing how cute the scene was. It was pretty damn adorable.

And he's going to miss those puppies when he goes home. But now he has a nes perspective on you as well. He knows you're gentle.

You pretend not to have emotions, and in your line of work he understood, but he saw the gentle side of you. The nurturer, even if it was too a bunch of cute puppies.

Also.

Let him see your puppies again.

Please.

He's begging you.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Now, Johnny probably would have declined your offer to stay at your house if he knew you had dogs. Johnny hates dogs, and is not afraid to kick one on the spot.

But you wanted to throw a party for your birthday and he couldn't just.. decline to go to your birthday. That was horrible, he was invited, he had to go!

He doesn't want to be cruel to dogs or go out of his way, but they scare him. And he doesn't like being near them.

He grabbed his bag and knocked on your door, immediately tensing when he heard the sound of yips coming toward the door.

Please don't let it be a big dog, please don't let it be a big dog.

You rushed to the door, struggling to open it and Johnny was suddenly swarmed by tiny puppers.

He tensed a little and you apologized, herding them back inside and letting Johnny in. Luckily they were distracted by the scent on his bag long enough he could make it to the living room.

"Sorry about that, should have told you."

"Oh ah, no no that's alright..."

He chuckles softly as the puppies get excited from the new guest, some scrambling to hop into his lap when he sits down and you have to gently remove them from him so he can get settled.

You smile softly as you pull them off and gently, lovingly scold them on crawling all over him. He can't help a little smile when you pick one up, drawing the rest to follow you to the couch.

You flop down, tossing Johnny the remote as the puppies crawl up to you, yipping and snuggling up.

Johnny puts on some YouTube video for experimental slow motion capture explosions for a bit.

Eventually looking over to see if you're even interested, only to see you passed out on the couch with the puppies all curled up.

He watched, smiling softly seeing you so relaxed. You were gentle and kind and now you were soft, all curled up like the world was calm. He grabbed the throw blanket and gently laid it over you, turning off the TV.

One of the pups squirmed out from under your arm, yipping as he moved to the stairs. Johnny shushed the pup softly so you could continue to sleep and he headed down to his room.

You were pretty cute like that, all curled up with a bunch of puppies.

Just... It might not be as cute when they get bigger.

But for now, absolutely adorable.

And now he thinks he might try to get you to open up a little more. Because clearly you aren't simply what you want to be seen as. And he wants to know you. That gentleness he saw that day with your puppies.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle doesn't feel any which way about either animal. He's slightly more of a cat person but would say he likes cats and dogs equally.

He didn't really have any particular thoughts about you either. You were on the team, you got the job done, and that was good. You were quiet, like Ghost, and that was something he could appreciate.

He might have declined the offer to stay over, but it was you'd birthday and you had offered. And what's a week in someone else's home he didn't have to worry about rent and resources? (Gaz math)

So he found himself at your doorstep with really not much idea of what to expect. He didn't think much of it when he rang the doorbell and heard a bunch of yips and little barks.

You must have dogs. Or puppies from the sounds of it.

And he was right, looking down as you opened the door, seeing puppies skittering around and wiggling excitedly. You opened the door, nodding to Kyle, who nodded back.

"Sorry about them, off." You commanded, helping Kyle to put his bag down on the kitchen chair. He watched the puppies dance around between and around his feet.

"That's a lot of puppies." He put his hands in his pockets.

"And I love them all." You smiled softly, cooing them over to the couch. Kyle watched all of them waddle over, yipping and scrambling to get up into the couch.

You curled up in a blanket with them all, one of them staying back to sniff Kyle's pantleg and nibble on it a little.

Kyle watched the little puppy, bending down to pick him up and felt his soft coat. He was very cute puppy, very light too.

"They are beautiful... What breed??" He looked up, noticing your eyes were closed. The light from your blinds casting on you in just a way he could tell it had been a long day.

He smiles softly, thinking how cute it was paired with your earlier words.

He attempted to put the one puppy down but it scrambled back, following him as he took your advice and also went to pass out for a nap.

Eventually waking up with that same pup curled up with him. He went upstairs to see you still sleeping, and he couldn't help thinking it cute s second time.

You were soft, gentle with the small animals. So comfortable with them. He couldn't stop s small smile. So this was the real y/n... He'd like to see more of you.

And he thinks your puppies are adorable.

John Price

Price is like Kyle in that he doesn't really prefer one species over the other, he vibes with both. Though he's leaning more dog person.

You on the other hand, your skill alone is what got you on the team. Price wishes you would be less 'emotionless' and try to open up even a smidge to the others. Even a little bit of teamwork can lead to a lot of success and smoothness.

But oh hell he picked you all...

That's what he couldn't help thinking as he drove down to your house for your birthday. It was mid leave and Price was headed over to celebrate the day with you and make sure you wouldn't be alone.

Showing up at your door, he didn't his little dad shoulder roll and knocked. When he got no response he rang the doorbell, immediately hearing loud barking and yipping.

His eyebrows raised slightly. He didn't take you for a dog person. Unless he's at the wrong house, in that case, fuck him.

But he's reassured it's you when you open the door, giving him a half a smile for effort. "Captain, sorry, I was trying to put them away."

Price chuckles when the small puppies jump up at his legs and run around him, smelling all the new smells on him.

"That's quite alright."

You open the door further and let him inside. Price steps in, the small puppies yipping and jumping. You try to gently scold them off but Price doesn't react, letting them do their thing.

"Sorry, I can make you tea, we can sit down??"

Price nodded. "That sounds lovely actually, thank you."

You nod, grabbing out two cups and getting the kettle ready.

You two pass time talking until you get to the couch, Price crossing a leg over, one of the pups hopping up into his lap, yipping at him and snuggling up to his stomach.

Price can't help chuckling again as you talk. The rest of the puppies curl up with you, you'd arms wrapping around them all, trying to squeeze your love gently into their tiny bodies.

The quietness somehow seeping in along the way until Price looks up from petting the small puppy to see you nodding off against the arm rest.

The sun through the window hits you nicely and Price sighs softly. Seeing how tired you looked, how gentle you were.

Price always knew it, he knew the soft soul under those faces. And now he saw it, seeing how utterly adorable you were curled up with your puppies.

He walks over, setting down the pup from his lap against you, having a feeling he'd feel better there.

He pulls the throw blanket over you, rubbing your arm gently. Guess he's making dinner to give back for making him tea.

He looked back into the living room, seeing you still passed out. Maybe, with some more work he can get you to open to him. He liked seeing you so cuddly up.

You were so gosh darn adorable, almost as adorable as the puppies themselves.

(sorry it's short, it's late and I wanted to at least get something out, blep.)

[iranondeaira]

"Notre monde est fou. Tout va trop vite.

Pas seulement les transports ou les nouvelles technologies. On ne mange même plus, on bouffe dans des "fast food". On ne parle plus, on jacasse sans arrêt. Une information-marchandise chasse la précédente. On ne regarde pas, on zappe. On ne vit pas, on survit.

Il est urgent de prendre le temps de la lenteur.

Refuse la précipitation, garde du temps pour toi. Tu apprendras que le monde est magnifique si tu sais le contempler; que la nature apporte de la joie si on la respecte et qu'on collabore avec elle ; que les humains sont passionnants, qu'ils méritent notre attention, au sein de la famille, au travail, dans le cercle de nos amis ...

Et tu apprendras aussi à t'écouter, à te valoriser, à t'aimer. Alors, aie de la bienveillance pour toi-même, et goûte à la beauté du monde !"

- Guy Gilbert

[observatoiredumensonge]

Par défaut

C" choix de Bayrou est franchement nul.

Temps de lecture = 3 minutes Macron, qui s’obstine à “déconstruire” la France, Jusqu’à l’écoeurement !Comment peut-il nommer François Bayrou à Matignon ? Par Alexandre Goldfarb Continue reading Par défaut

[jawnressources]

Message d'intérêt général -

Quand vous achetez mes skins, je vous en remercie profondément mais ça ne vous donne en rien le droit de demander des services gratuits par derrière. Juste au cas où ça échappe à certains, il y a un être humain derrière l'écran qui a donné de son temps pour réunir quelques skins à vendre pour arrondir ses fins de mois. Quand vous me demandez de modifier un skin en y ENLEVANT des choses pour ensuite vous plaindre de ne pas utiliser l'entiéreté du skin, vous ne pouvez pas demander des choses gratuites par derrière. Quand je prend une soirée entière pour modifier GRATUITEMENT les codes pour que ça colle à votre vision, ça ne vous donne pas le droit de profiter encore plus. Venir par la suite me culpabiliser de ne pas avoir utilisé entièrement le skin pour que je vous offre des choses gratuites, c'est non. Me culpabiliser d'avoir un jour dit "oui" pour installer quelque chose pour me forcer à le faire quand je dis ensuite non... le consentement ça vous dit quelque chose ?

Donc là je me retrouve face à un cas d'une personne qui n'a pas utilisé tout le skin, m'a demandé de retirer des éléments du dit skin, m'a fait installé toutes les catégories différentes parce que "je ne savais pas que le code serait si compliqué", puis se sert de cette excuse pour me demander de lui offrir le pack de fiches. Puis cette personne me demande ensuite de lui installer autre chose, screens à l'appui, bien que j'ai finalement dit plus tard ne pas savoir comment totalement faire.

Donc on va être clair. Oui, merci d'avoir acheté mes skins et si vous avez besoin d'aide, il n'y a aucun souci. Oui, j'ai aidé à peu près tous ceux qui ont acheté les skins et les fiches à les installer correctement parce que oui, on est pas tous calés en code. Non, je ne suis pas à votre disposition. Non, je ne vous doit rien, si ça n'est un merci. Non, quand je taff gratuitement à littéralement vous installer la moindre catégorie jusque dans le panneau d'administration, la moindre fiche, la moindre couleur, ça ne vous donne ni le droit de venir me demander de l'aide pour la moindre petite chose en MP tous les jours sur Discord, et encore moins de me demander des choses gratuites par derrière.

Je commence à être fatiguée de rappeler à certains que j'ai une vie en dehors de mon écran et que reçevoir tous les jours des demandes à l'aide est franchement épuisant alors qu'il existe je ne sais trop combien de forums d'entraide qui pourraient le faire tout aussi vite.

Je vends mes codes non seulement pour aider ceux qui le veulent à installer entièrement un forum entier sans se prendre la tête, et aussi pour pouvoir mettre un peu d'argent de côté. Je vous demande de me respecter en tant que personne, et c'est bien triste d'en arriver à demander ne serait-ce qu'un peu de respect. Soyons clairs, non je n'offre plus rien gratuitement depuis très longtemps, les raisons sont diverses et variées et peut-être qu'un jour je vous ferais ici un joli long post pour vous expliquer chaque situation qui m'a poussé un peu plus à m'isoler de la commu' RP.

En attendant, merde pour certains, merci pour les autres.

[lisa972kdlz]

Puny God :

(Piètre Dieu)

«You really think you can impress me with what you have to oppose ?»

«A bunch of brats...»

«A brother who has lost his sparkle...»

«The shadow of myself...»

«...And a little whore.»

English (translated with Deepl) :

Drawing and inking done by me, and the gorgeous, professional and transcendent colors are by @aeryth-lc (she's talented my girl isn'it? She's talented (☆▽☆) !)

This is an extract from an as yet unwritten story about her Multiverse Manzanoverse ! Or rather, a Multiverse crossover, as Corrupted Nightmare (Kerosene to you and me) and Merciless are not part of it.

We've gone to such lengths for this single extract because it means so much to an Undertale and AU's fan, and to a Killer fan.

It was a real PLEASURE to draw him kicking Nightmare' ass !

Underverse has given our favorite characters moments to shine, to encourage us to respect them in the Fanbase. Thanks to it, Blue and Dream are more badass, Cross has been able to break free...

But there was nothing it could do for Killer for now 😭

How many times have I seen depictions of him as stupid, masochistic, sexually and literaly submissive?

I usually don't ask for reblogs, but please, we have to make Killer rebel, this character has the right to evolve 🙏 at least make your own fanarts, let's create a wave with a hashtag like #freekillersans for exemple !

In any case, here and now, it's his finest hour ✨ let's be happy for him

(aaaand if you could correct it in English to help me improve that would be great too, thank you very much 👍!)

Français :

Dessin et encrage fait par moi, et les magnifiques, professionnelles et transcendantes couleurs sont de @aeryth-lc (hein qu'elle est douée ma copine ? hein qu'elle est douée (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠) ?)

Il s'agit d'un extrait d'une histoire pas encore écrite concernant son Multivers Manzanoverse (ou plutôt un croisement de Multivers car Nightmare corrompu (Kérosène pour les intimes) et Merciless n'en font pas partie) !

Si on s'est donné tant de mal pour ce simple extrait, c'est qu'il représente énormément pour un fan d'Undertale et AU's et un fan de Killer.

C'était un véritable PLAISIR de le dessiner en train de botter le cul de Nightmare !

Underverse a offert à nos personnages préférés des moments où ils ont pu briller afin de nous inciter à les respecter au sein de la Fanbase, grâce à cette série Blue et Dream sont plus badass, Cross a pu s'émanciper...

Mais elle n'a rien pu faire pour Killer actuellement 😭

Combien de fois j'ai vu des représentations de lui stupide, masochiste, soumis sexuellement et littéralement ?

D'habitude je ne demande pas de rebloger, mais s'il vous plaît, il faut faire en sorte que Killer se rebelle, ce personnage a le droit d'évoluer 🙏 ou bien faites vos propres fanarts, créons une vague avec un hashtag genre #freekillersans par exemple

En tout cas, ici et maintenant, c'est son heure de gloire ✨ soyons heureux pour lui

Killer!Sans belongs to @/rahaf-wabas

Nightmare belongs to @/jokublog

Merciless belongs to @/Mommysnoodraw (not on Tumblr)

Shattered!Dream belongs to @/Galacii-gallery

Lux belongs to @/alainaprana

Paperjam belongs to @/7goodangel

Starway belongs to @/lunnar-chan

Aéryth and Manzanoverse belongs to @/aeryth-lc

[nestastits]

Okay, I understand people not liking the pregnancy trope but with Feysand I never had a problem. Maybe it had to do with it not being from their pov but if we had read it in their pov I still wouldn’t have hated it.

I’ve seen people argue it contradicts acotar/acomaf Feyre’s wishes, but literally people change their minds in the span of weeks Feyre changed hers over a year and half😭. There was an entire scene and buildup in acofas where Feyre realized she wanted to start her family. Which is entirely okay and her choice. I don’t really see the problem? Also, acotar Feyre was human and disliked the fae and wasn’t at a happy mindset or safe place for herself. It’s completely fine and understandable for her to change over the books, it would be a waste of time for her to stay the same over five 100+ page books😭.

The other argument I’ve seen is that sjm turned Feyre into a boring sit on her ass character with motherhood, this honestly disgusts me. Motherhood should be seen as powerful and in a good way, Feyre wanting to be a mother does not take away from her strength as a character, if any thing it added power to her. And no Rhys did not force Feyre into becoming a mother💀. Feyre literally told him she wanted to start their family, he did not force her or manipulate her into becoming a mother. Now, I hate that he hid the truth from her about the full danger of the birth, but I can also see his side. He didn’t want her to worry the entire pregnancy, that’s not a bad thing. I still think he should of told her the truth but I understand why he didn’t🤷🏼‍♀️. My biggest complaint is that he ordered everyone else not to tell her the truth, that he went about a family matter in a high lord way.

I hate how people say he sat on his ass the entire time not looking for a solution because he in fact did not do this 😭. He went to Helion about a shield to protect Feyre, asked Drakon about their experiences and solutions with winged births, looked through libraries of his court and other courts, and talked with healers about the best way to save Feyre. He wasn’t wallowing in self pity. He was trying to save her but couldn’t find a way. I personally see this as a bad plot from sjm to make a way for Nesta to redeem herself but it’s whatever I guess 🙄.

I think it’s cute how Feysand decided to have a family. I even like them being parents, I think they’ll be great at doing better than their parents. I like how the ic have a baby to love unconditionally and spoil. I’m excited to see the relationship between nyx and his aunts and uncles in the future books. Especially his relationship with Nesta considering how much it’s clear nes loves nyx in hofas. Plus in acosf she said she’d protect the baby no matter what. I’m very excited to see how perfect of a mother Feyre is since she was described to be one in hofas.

I never saw the baby move and motherhood as a bad thing, but if anyone did please tell me why. I’m open to look at it from a different perspective so long as it’s respectful.

[chic-a-gigot]

Les Modes : revue mensuelle illustrée des arts décoratifs appliqués à la femme, no. 163, juillet 1914, Paris. "Lettre sur la mode: La silhouette actuelle et l'attitude-tango." Francis de Miomandre. Bibliothèque nationale de France

English translation by Google Translate (and edited for relative clarity).

Ma chère amie,

Vous me demandez mon avis sur la mode actuelle, comme ça, simplement?… Voilà bien une idée de femme!… Comme si Fou pouvait professer une opinion sur un pareil sujet, si ondoyant! Tout ce que peut faire un homme de goût, c'est d'admirer ses contemporaines qui passent, et de respecter cet effort martyrisant qu'elles t'imposent pour diversifier à l'infini leur séduisante figure. Je sais que cet effort n'est pas toujours heureux. Mais n'allez pas en incriminer la mode, qui n'y est pour rien. Il y a deux sortes de femmes, celles qui ont du goût… et les autres. Ces dernières ont le génie d'élire parmi les accoutrements du jour celui précisément qui les rendra ridicules.

Il arrive un moment où nous ne remarquons plus combien sont gracieuses les femmes de goût qui portent encore les choses à la mode le mois dernier, mais nous n'avons plus d'yeux que pour leurs malheureuses imitatrices. C'est à ce moment-là qu'une mode est démodée. Il faut la changer.

La question de changer ne se pose pas pour la mode actuelle, puisque sa caractéristique est d'etre au contraire en perpétuelle évolution. Une évolution! que dis-je? un vertige… On n'a pas le temps s'y reconnaitre… Il semble que toutes les les pays soient conviés à nous fournir des motifs d'inspiration sans cesse renouvelés. Et c'est la Perse et bientôt l'Inde, et c'est la Grèce, la Grèce de M. Pierre Loüys, la Grèce à demi orientale d'Alexandrie, et c'est la Turquie et demain ce sera la Chine. Et puis après, on remontera dans le moyen âge. On pillera les musées. La mode actuelle? Ah! bien quinaud celui qui essaierait de s'en moquer! Car il n'aurait pas plutôt achevé sa petite diatribe, si vaine ! que déjà on pourrait lui répondre: « Mais, Monsieur, vous datez, vous vous raillez d'une très vieille chose. Ce que vous trouvez ridicule, il y a au moins quinze jours que nous en avons assez nous-mêmes… » Consultez les caricatures des journaux amusants, et vous serez édifiée. La mode actuelle, qui a le désavantage de coûter très cher à celles qui veulent la suivre, et de les ahurir un peu, a au moins la supériorité d'échapper au ridicule. Elle court si vite!…

Et cependant, me direz-vous, elle existe. On s'habille, que diable ! A vous d'extraire de tout cela la ligne générale, je ne sais pas moi, la synthèse…

Je veux bien. Voyons. Cherchons ensemble. Est-ce la tunique ? Mais non, puisque la bonne moitié des toilettes ne comporte pas de tunique. Est-ce la cape? La cape donne une jolie silhouette, mais que de femmes restent fidèles à des manteaux d'une tout autre forme, et cependant demeurent très dans le train! La note serait-elle donnée par le chapeau? Je veux bien, mais alors lequel? Le petit, le grand, le plat, le large, l'immense, le rond, le roulé en cornet, le lourd ou l'aérien?… Ne cherchez pas plus avant et reconnaissez avec moi que ce qui caractérise la mode actuelle n'est pas tant une ligne plus ou moins souple et gracieuse du vêtement qu'une attitude de la femme qui porte ce vêtement, cette attitude molle, hanchée, abandonnée, douce, passive, un peu veule et que, pour tout dire, j'appellerai l'attitude-tango.

On a souvent dit: « Le ventre s'est beaucoup porté cette année. » Quelle impropriété fâcheuse d'expression! Vous le savez bien, vous qui vous habillez à ravir et vous tenez de même, qu'il n'a jamais été question de ventre, mais qu'il a été énormément question de tango. Or, dans l'exercice de cette danse charmante, et qui, malgré de retentissantes interdictions ecclésiastiques, n'est pas près de disparaître, on se trouve fort souvent le bras en l'air et le talon relevé, portant tout le poids du corps sur un seul côté, ce qui donne aussitôt aux dames un petit air langoureux et vide, une attitude molle et déjetée.

A force de s'adonner à cette danse, nos élégantes ont pris l'habitude de se tenir ainsi dans toutes les autres circonstances de la vie. Et c'est en tanguant qu'elles entrent dans un salon, qu'elles y prennent le thé, qu'elles écoutent les hommes d'esprit, qu'elles regagnent leur automobile, qu'elles essaient leurs robes, qu'elles attendent la balle au tennis, enfin qu'elles vivent.

Rappelez-vous comment elles étaient il y a seulement trois ans. Droites, fières, faisant valoir le moindre pouce de leur taille, et minces, si minces ! C'étaient des Florentines, des reines, d'inaccessibles idoles. Le tango a changé tout cela. Le tango les a humanisées, assouplies, le tango les a brisées.

Il y a même là un profond mystère. Car, enfin, le corset, lui, n'a rien abdiqué de son inflexible nature. Il a beau porter des noms de nixes et d'ondines, de fées, de magiciennes ou de déesses, tout ce qu'on peut dire c'est qu'il commence un peu moins haut pour finir beaucoup plus bas. Et certains ressemblent davantage à des culottes baleinées qu'à des corsets proprement dits. Mais le fait est que cet instrument n'a de suave que le nom et qu'il se compose toujours d'un buse rigide comme un principe, d'agrafes solides comme des crampons et de fanons qui rompent parfois, mais ne plient sous aucun prétexte. Comment une femme aussi farouchement maintenue peut-elle trouver le moyen de se pencher avec une langueur si délicieuse? Comment arrive-t-elle à donner l'impression de n'être, en dessous, couverte que de linons impondérables et de souples batistes? Énigme, vous dis-je. Enigme de courage et d'héroïsme. La femme d'aujourd'hui est cent fois plus étonnante que le jeune Spartiate qui souriait tandis qu'il était dévoré par son renard. Cet adolescent, en effet, personne ne lui demandait dé remuer. Mais la femme à la mode, non seulement elle sourit, mais encore elle va et vient, elle penche le buste à droite et à gauche, elle marche, elle danse, cependant qu'un appareil ingénieux et terrible lui froisse les côtes, lui comprime le ventre, lui lacère les jambes, lui meurtrit les genoux. Que lui importe ? Un sourire d'extase illuminant sa figure enivrée, elle s'avance, désarticulée et engageante, suivant toutes les règles de l'attitude, qui lui donne son grand cachet de chic, de l'attitude-tango.

—

My dear friend,

You ask me my opinion on current fashion, just like that?… That's a woman's idea!… As if Fou could profess an opinion on such a subject, so undulating! All a man of taste can do is admire his passing contemporaries, and respect this tormenting effort that they impose on you to infinitely diversify their seductive figure. I know that this effort is not always successful. But don't blame fashion, which has nothing to do with it. There are two kinds of women, those who have taste… and those who don't. The latter have the genius to choose from among the outfits of the day precisely the one that will make them look ridiculous.

There comes a time when we no longer notice how graceful the women of taste are who still wear fashionable things last month, but we only have eyes for their unfortunate imitators. That’s when a fashion goes out of fashion. It needs to be changed.

The question of changing does not arise for current fashion, since its characteristic is, on the contrary, to be in perpetual evolution. An evolution! what did I say? a dizziness… We don't have time to relate… It seems that all countries are invited to provide us with constantly renewed sources of inspiration. And it is Persia and soon India, and it is Greece, the Greece of Mr. Pierre Loüys, the semi-eastern Greece of Alexandria, and it is Turkey and tomorrow it will be China. And then afterwards, we will go back to the Middle Ages. We will loot the museums. Current fashion? Ah! very stupid anyone who tries to make fun of it! Because he would not have sooner finished his little diatribe, so vain! that one could already reply to him: “But, Sir, you are dating, you are making fun of a very old thing. What you find ridiculous, we have had enough of it ourselves for at least a fortnight…" Look at the caricatures in the amusing newspapers, and you will be edified. Current fashion, which has the disadvantage of being very expensive for those who want to follow it, and of bewildering them a little, at least has the superiority of escaping ridicule. She runs so fast!…

And yet, you will tell me, it exists. Let's get dressed, damn it! It's up to you to extract the general line from all this, I don't know, the synthesis…

I don't mind. Let's see. Let's search together. Is it the tunic? But no, since a good half of the toilets do not have a tunic. Is it the cape? The cape gives a pretty silhouette, but how many women remain faithful to coats of a completely different shape, and yet remain very in tune! Would the score be given by the hat? I'm willing, but which one? The small, the large, the flat, the wide, the immense, the round, the rolled into a cone, the heavy or the airy?… Look no further and agree with me that what characterizes current fashion is not so much a more or less supple and graceful line of the garment as an attitude of the woman who wears this garment, this soft, hip, abandoned, gentle, passive, a little spineless attitude and which, to tell the truth, I'll call it attitude-tango.

It has often been said: “The stomach has worn a lot this year." What an unfortunate impropriety of expression! You know well, you who dress beautifully and carry yourself the same, that it was never a question of stomach, but that it was very much a question of tango. Now, in the exercise of this charming dance, which, despite resounding ecclesiastical prohibitions, is not about to disappear, one very often finds oneself with one's arm in the air and one's heel raised, carrying the entire weight of one's body, on one side only, which immediately gives the ladies a little languorous and empty air, a limp and lopsided attitude.

By devoting themselves to this dance, our elegant ladies have gotten into the habit of holding themselves like this in all other circumstances of life. And it is while swaying that they enter a salon, that they take tea there, that they listen to men of wit, that they return to their car, that they try on their dresses, that they wait the tennis ball, finally let them live.

Remember how they were just three years ago. Straight, proud, showing off every inch of their waist, and thin, so thin! They were Florentines, queens, inaccessible idols. Tango changed all that. Tango humanized them, softened them, tango broke them.

There is even a deep mystery there. Because, finally, the corset has not abdicated any of its inflexible nature. It may bear the names of nixes and undines, fairies, magicians or goddesses, all we can say is that it starts a little lower and ends much lower. And some look more like boned panties than actual corsets. But the fact is that this instrument is sweet only in name and that it always consists of a nozzle as rigid as a principle, of solid staples like crampons and of baleen which sometimes break, but do not bend under any circumstances. Pretext. How can such a fiercely held woman find a way to bend over with such delicious languor? How does it manage to give the impression of being, underneath, covered only with imponderable lawns and soft cambric? Enigma, I tell you. Riddle of courage and heroism. The woman of today is a hundred times more astonishing than the young Spartan who smiled as he was devoured by his fox. This teenager, in fact, no one asked him to move. But the fashionable woman not only smiles, but also comes and goes, she leans her bust to the right and to the left, she walks, she dances, while an ingenious and terrible device crumples her ribs, compresses her stomach, lacerates his legs, bruises his knees. What does it matter to him? A smile of ecstasy illuminating her intoxicated face, she advances, disjointed and engaging, following all the rules of attitude, which gives her her great stamp of chic, of the tango attitude.

[jeanchrisosme]

Oui je m'isole, non pas parce que je n'aime pas les gens mais parce que je m'épuise au contact du monde, le bruit, la foule, les discussions trop longues, aussi parce que je préfère être seule qu'entourée de personnes qui ne vibrent pas sur les mêmes fréquences que moi. Non, je ne dis pas qu'elles sont moins intéressantes, je n'ai nullement cette prétention. Je dis simplement que nous sommes différents. Nos sensibilités et ressentis n'atteignent pas les mêmes sommets. Je dis aussi que plus je vieillis et plus je sais qui je suis, où je vais et ce que je veux et ce qui ne me correspond plus du tout. Je n'ai pas besoin d'avoir de la compagnie. Je ne me sens jamais seule, je me sens merveilleusement bien dans le silence. Et si je reçois du monde, c'est que l'envie est là et le plaisir aussi ! Bien souvent, mon calme, ma paix intérieure, mes ressources, mon lâcher prise, ma sérénité, je les puise dans ma bulle "chez moi" seule, ou dehors "en pleine nature" seule encore et toujours. Je ne suis pas associale, je suis une empathe sélective. Une empathe qui respecte ses ressentis et écoute son corps, son mental, son âme. J'aime profondément les gens, les écouter, les conseiller et les aider...Mais après cela, mon "Moi" réclame une pause. Alors si quelques personnes se reconnaissent, elles sauront que si l'on passe du temps avec quelqu'un, ce n'est nullement pour combler un vide, mais c'est que l'on en a envie... Vraiment !

Eden Cara

[behindblueeyesrpg]

[behind blue eyes]

inspiration : outer banks.

BEHIND BLUE EYES Charleston ; 2024 — Sous les chênes centenaires drapés de mousse espagnole, se camoufle doucereuse beauté aux apparences trompeuses. Élégance pour façade, outil parfaitement manipulé pour dissimuler les vérités qu’on ne veut pas dévoiler. Derrière chaque regard, un secret qu’on tait, des désirs non assumés et des murmures étouffés. Entre belles bâtisses aux balcons en fer forgé qui crachent leur luxe aux visages des plus modestes, déshérités de toute fortune sans la chance d’être privilégié, la ville oscille entre le faste et la déchéance, entre l’illusion et une réalité plus rude à assumer.

en plus ; un rp par mois ; une semaine pour terminer sa fiche ; pas de minimum de mots ; respect des tw ; premier dc offert ; rythme chill. stay tuned!! un discord arrive très bientôt. 🌊