everything happens in france

It’s the fourth of July.

I hear explosions outside.

I stand up from my bed.

I walk toward my window.

I look to the sky.

I see fireworks launched by my neighbours.

I open the window.

My neighbours are singing the Star Spangled Banner.

In their garden, little American flags in their bands.

You don’t see anything weird, do you ?

Well I’ll tell you.

I’m french.

And I’m in fucking France right now.

so today i got up early to do a segway tour to which the people didnt show up but i got paid my wage anyway, then i lazed around for a bit, and then i went to my best friend’s to play dragon age for hours straight until he cooked us dinner and we watched a movie and now i am home and cuddled into bed

all in all a good sunday

newbiepunk  asked:

What do the 2ps love the most about the night time? (If they even like the night)


2P!America: likes how it’s easier to get away with crimes during the night

2P!China: evenings feel more romantic and sensual.

2P!England: scared of the dark, doesn’t like the night, always lights candles and plays classical music to keep a brighter atmosphere.

2P!France: everything good happens at night.

2P!Russia: the world is quiet. most people are asleep. no one’s around to bug him. somehow, he doesn’t feel that alone. at least not alone enough to feel painfully lonely.

2P!Italy: the nighttime is more beautiful to him than the day.

2P!Germany: it reminds him of sleepless nights where he had some of the best times of his life.

2P!Japan: he’s alone, it’s silent, and he can be himself without having to put up a front.

2P!Canada: he likes how he can only hear the sounds of nature, away from all the annoying aspects of the city.

2P!Romano: prefers the day time. prefers being with people and being out doing things.

2P!Austria: everything mythical always happens between dusk and dawn.

2P!Prussia: he’s away from people and can cry in peace and silence.

The Wineshop Corinthe from Jean Valjean (1963) by Le Théâtre de la Jeunesse

(Corinthe Crew, Gavroche and Patron Minette hear riots breaking out in Paris)

This scene isn’t as funny as the earlier ones, but! But! Corinthe Crew! And they have lines! Even though half their lines in this scene are from other minor characters but still! (They have more lines later though! They’re actually more prominent characters than in any other adaptation I’ve seen. I’ll post some more when I get around to it.)

And yes, that’s Patron Minette (minus Gueulemer) lurking in Corinthe. There is exactly one wineshop in all of Paris, you see. Look, this adaptation had the budget of an episode of a children’s TV show, so like ten francs and a bottle cap. So yeah, everything happens in Corinthe and everybody goes to Corinthe. Licet omnibus adire Corinthum after all.

The Man Who Remained to France || Thomas Shelby

GIF/Photo is not mine, credit goes to the creator(s)

“… Cut out the tongues of those who talk, a three headed beast. The Peaky Blinders. It is my job to decapitate each one. By God I will do it! God help those who stand in our way.” I and John mimiced the inspector Chester Campbells speech loudly, standing by the dinner table with stupid smirks on our faces - until Aunt Polly pulled us both to sit down to our seats. The room seemed to be full of discussion and small laughs, until the heavy doors of the dining area opened and the room fell silent, Tommy was back.

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yesfangirl  asked:

Could you do a small story or an extended prompt about Bree and Roger telling Jamie and Claire Mandy's full name after she was born. The books never extended on that although I'm pretty sure it was Amanda Claire FAITH McKenzie. You are so good writing the emotional stuff and I'd give anything to read about that conversation! Thanks Kathleen :)

So apparently Mandy’s name is actually Amanda Claire Hope MacKenzie. But I wanted to give you something, so I tweaked it a bit and came up with this wee thing. Hope you like it @yesfangirl! <3

Worthy of Love

“She ought to have another name.” Bree told me one afternoon, while nursing Mandy. We were peacefully sitting in my surgery, after I had made my daily evaluation of her baby’s welfare with my Pinard stethoscope. A week had passed since my shattering diagnosis of patent ductus arteriosus and the daunting realization that Amanda’s life was in danger since the moment she had left the safety of Brianna’s womb.

“Is Amanda Claire MacKenzie not enough, do you think?” I asked her, my hands occupied with the construction of a pleasant habitat for my newest friends, a couple of plump and precious leeches. “The more names you give her, the harder it will be for her to learn them; not to mention writing them.”

“Yes.” She rocked slightly on the chair, her eyes inevitably drawn to Mandy’s blue fingernails, a tell-tale sign that betrayed her oxygen deprivation. It was a permanent competition between the need to feed and the need to breathe – one that seemed only unfair, robbing every happiness of that moment of bonding between mother and child. “But I’m not happy with it. It’s missing something.”

“Maybe you can pay homage to someone important to Roger?” I suggested amiably. “Since she already has the burden of my name.”

Brianna clicked her tongue; it never seized to amaze me how much she sounded like Jamie doing so. How two people could be so similar in the simple things that made me love them so irrevocably.

“It’s not a burden and we both agreed on it.” She changed the baby’s position on her arms, ready to put her to burp after another excruciating session of sucking and sleeping from her heart’s tiredness. “Besides, Roger chose her first name. Amanda.” Bree smiled a little, but her voice was husky and I could see the sadness and the constant concern behind her eyes. “He said he loved her so much since the moment he first laid eyes on her that Marjorie wouldn’t measure up. It had to be Amanda – Lovable. Worthy of love.”

“What were you thinking, then?” I asked, trying to distract her from the pit of despair she was about to plunge herself in. The same hole from which Jamie and myself managed to escape each morning since that unforgettable day, only with the help of each other’s arms.

“Faith.” Bree said softly. “I was thinking, maybe…Amanda Claire Faith MacKenzie.”

“Sweetheart…” I whispered, coming closer in order to put my arm around her. “Amanda is not your sister.” I swallowed hard. “Faith she - was so small and had such a hazardous delivery into this world – she never stood a chance.” My voice trembled, but just a little – I was trying very hard to be strong for us both.

“I know that.” She sighed. “You keep saying that she has a fighting chance if – when – we go back. But…” Bree turned her face away from me, but not fast enough to hide a traitorous tear. “I wished my sister was here with me, Mama. I wanted so badly to have an older sister, someone to look up to, to tell me everything was going to be alright.” Her voice almost broke this time. “To stay here, with you….when I’m gone.”

“Bree.” I caressed her beautiful red hair, a deep contrast with her own daughter’s dark tufts. “I’ve said goodbye to you once in the past, thinking that probably I would never see you again – everyday wishing for a sign that you were happy in your time and knowing I wouldn’t get one.” I kissed her temple. “But you came to us and we’ve had more together than I ever dreamt of.”

“How did you do it?” She cleaned a tear with the back of her big fair hand. “Survive the…the loss of your child? Of the dreams you had for her the moment you knew she was there, inside you? The dreams you shared along with your own blood inside your belly?”

“I don’t know.” I answered honestly. “I thought I wouldn’t, but – I had your father and the gift Mother Hildegard gave me.”

“Gift?” She looked at me, her blue eyes surrounded by red streaks and greyish blots from the crying and the lack of sleep. “What gift?”

“Well,” I said slowly, playing with Mandy’s little toes and watching her yawn. “Mother Hildegard named her. She christened her and gave her a name while I was too sick to do anything really. Faith. Once I knew, I thought Mother had the oddest and most inappropriate sense of humour.”

“It was a weird choice.” She agreed, patting Mandy’s bottom. “What do you mean by a gift, then?”

“She gave me what I needed.” I answered serenely. “For faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” I quoted the Bible’s verse. “I had my daughter, even if for the briefest of times. But what I came to realize, you see, is that even though she was gone I was still her mother. She still…was is.”

Brianna nodded, trapped inside my words.

“I needed faith to heal of everything that happened in France. Each day I woke up; went through the motions, like I was sleepwalking when the pain was too much; I slept and started it all over again. I craved repentance and salvation. And it eventually came and I was able to smile and live again.”

“So it is a good name?” She insisted.

“I think what you need is something else entirely – just as powerful and sometimes just as hard to find.” I said softly, already storing in my memory the image of my two girls together as they were now, peacefully and happily close to my heart.

“And what is that?” Bree asked, her hand searching my own, our fingers entwining like we used to do when she was a little girl, afraid of how high the swing would go. But she had always been brave; she used to laugh and ask to go even higher, conquering her fears.

This time I wouldn’t be there to help her be brave; but she had a little hand of her own to hold now.

Hope.” I whispered and kissed her ever so softly.

anonymous asked:

Hi, horrible what happened in Paris. But still it kinda frustrates me how the media and everything is just about what happened in France. This is happening in other places too, and daily in Syria

Okay … I will really try to answer you in a calm and collected manner because I really really want to assume that this message is motivated by ignorance rather than a lack of human decency . 

If “ the media and everything” is just about what happened in France it’s because both America ( I assume you’re from america) and France are part of the Occident . They share cultural similarities and the same way French medias covered 9/11 and the recent mass shootings in the USA , the USA covered the terrorist attacks in France . 

If you watched the news of any country in middle east I assure you that the situation in Syria is much more covered than the situation in France . If you watched the news in Africa the media coverage will not be the same as in both France or Middle East . 

Another thing about that is that the event of France are out of the ordinary . It happened at a precise moment ( less than 24 hours ago ) so the media coverage is big . Sadly the war in Syria is going on for a long time now you can’t keep this level of media coverage all the time . 

And finally nothing prevents you from taking your part in the coverage of the situation in Syria , you can read and share articles . 

Now for the little less tolerant part of my answer : Did you really use your brain before sending this message ? Did you really think it over ? Didn’t you tell yourself that MAYBE EVENTUALLY it was highly inappropriate to send a message to someone in mourning because her hometown had seen the death of more than a hundred people yesterday ? Would you send the same message to a Syrian person talking about the situation in their country with a “ but did you think about France ? Bad things happened in France too ! “ ? 

No you wouldn’t . With this message you showed a complete lack of compassion and human decency . You basically spit on the victims by saying their life was less important than playing at the oppression olympics . 

 I care more about France because I live there . Because maybe I already walked by someone who died yesterday . Maybe one of the victim was a stranger I smiled at in the subway . Maybe I never saw them in my entire life but my heart bleeds for them . Because they were like me . They were in a restaurant , or in a bar , or watching a football game, or at a concert . They were having fun and singing and laughing with their friends and family . 

And there were murdered . They were murdered because of the situation in Syria . They were murdered because France send troops to defeat ISIS in Syria to give the civilians a chance to ever go back in a country at peace . 

But you don’t care about any of that . You don’t care about my suffering , or the french people suffering or even the Syrian people suffering . 

You only care about bitching on Tumblr .