infortunate

the venus signs as romantic french phrases
  • aries: "L’amour fait les plus grandes douceurs et les plus sensibles infortunes de la vie." - Love makes the greatest pleasures and most sensitive misfortunes of life.
  • taurus: "L’amour est la poésie des sens." - Love is the poetry of the senses.
  • gemini: "Tu es ma joie de vivre." - You are the joy of my life.
  • cancer: "Vivre sans aimer n’est pas proprement vivre." - To live without loving is to not really live.
  • leo: "Il n’y a qu’un bonheur dans la vie, c’est d’aimer et d’être aimé." - There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved.
  • virgo: "Entre deux coeurs qui s’aiment, nul besoin de paroles." - Two hearts in love need no words.
  • libra: "La vie est une fleur dont l’amour est le miel." - Life is a flower of which love is the honey.
  • scorpio: "J’ai aimé jusqu’à atteindre la folie. Ce que certains appellent la folie, mais ce qui pour moi, est la seulefaçon d’aimer." - I have loved to the point of madness; That which is called madness, that which to me, is the only sensible way to love.
  • sagittarius: "Aimer, ce n’est pas se regarderl’un l’autre, c’est regarder ensemble dans la mêmedirection." - Love doesn’t mean gazing at each other, but looking, together, in the same direction.
  • capricorn: "C’est cela l’amour, tout donner, tout sacrifier sans espoir de retour." - That is love, to give away everything, to sacrifice everything, without the slightest desire to get anything in return.
  • aquarius: "L’amour est l’emblème de l’éternité, il confond toute la notion de temps, efface toute la mémoire d’un commencement, toute la crainte d’une extrémité." - Love is the emblem of eternity; it confounds all notion of time, effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end.
  • pisces: "Tes yeux, j’en rêve jour et nuit." - I dream about your eyes day and night.

anonymous asked:

Heeey! 😊 Do you have any Les Amis Mermaid AU headcanons?

OH SHIT IT’S STILL MERMAY

  • Enjolras could lure sailors into the depths without opening his mouth. His beauty is surreal, but he’s also quick. His blonde almost white hair are just a flash in the eye of saloirs, the reflection of sunlight in the water. Enjolras is actually very wary of humans. He won’t ever try to lure one or kill one, but he’s painfully aware that human may not return the favour
  • Courfeyrac is the kind of merman who just loves lying on rocks and wallowing in the sunlight? It’s such a nice feeling? He also loves to sing but there are always damned ships nearby like no I don’t want to seduce you I just really like to sing, keep your ass on deck, dammit!
  • Combeferre is so curious about humans? He legit collects random shit humans drop from ships, cutlery, glasses, whatever. He’s fascinated by the fact that they can breath without water. He’s also convinced that humans are inherently good and that one day merfolks and humans will coexist peacefully
  • Joly was wounded by a harpoon when he was young, so he can’t swim very well, though he gets by. He’s still the cheeriest soul of them all and teaches tricks to octopuses. Like to pretend that if you press a seashell to your ear you can hear the bustling of a human city
  • Jehan has a little cave where they keep human stuff, just like Combeferre. Except they like shiny things, pretty thing. They have long discussions with Combeferre about humans and what they must be like, what the objects are for etc etc. Once found a harp at the bottom of the sea and learned how to play by themself
  • Bahorel likes to race with sharks. There’s just something thrilling about it. Sometimes, flowers float on the water, blown away from nearby coasts, and Bahorel loves weavving them into his beard and his hair to be fancy.

But what about the rest of les Amis, you ask? Well, they’re humans. Because.

  • Grantaire became a sailor because he’s in dire need of money, and kind of wants to escape the mainland for a while. He sings sailing songs from the deck, accompanied by an harmonica, which arouses the interest of many curious merfolk around
  • Bossuet is a sea sick sailor who grew up on sailing stories, and figured out it was his vocation. If his bad luck resulted in some personal infortunes, he’s considered to be the crew lucky charm. It’s a paradox he can live with. He’s also a great mandolin player
  • Feuilly wants to see the world. Thirsty for knowledge and discovery, sailing seemed to be the obvious way to chose. He speaks up to 5 languages and brings books wherever he goes. Everything he knows, he taught himself, and gladly teaches others
  • Marius is the grandson of a rich merchant from the continent, who was sent to oversee his grandfather’s business in the islands. Shy and insecure, he still makes friends in the crew and loves to hear their stories about the stars and the stories hidden in them. In exhanges, he tells them stories of his own, about classics he has read.
falling in love or something

“What the hell is that that you want me to do, Jungkook?” Jimin stare at him looked so pissed that he almost felt intimidated by that. Almost. If the younger didn’t know how sweet and caring his friend was, he could has bought that. Too bad

“Look, man, that’s not as fucked up as it seems, I swear,” he started. 

“Seriously? Because dating someone only because your friend wants to make out with her best friend seems pretty fucked up to me!” Jimin interrupted. 

“That’s not like that, Hyung…” Jungkook tried again. 

“How is it then, Jungkook?”  

“Shut up and let me explain, will you?” Jungkook said watching the other get more pissed by the way he hushed him. That should work at least to make Jimin less hysterical. “First of all, that’ll be only one date and I’m just asking you that because that damn chick insisted so much in us four to go out together. She really wants you for real, man.” 

“Whatever, not reciprocal.” 

“Anyway, I’m not doing this just to make out with Youngah, Hyung, I want to date her… Like seriously,” Suddenly, Jimin was dead silent. Jungkook took that as an opening to continue talking. “You got to cover that for me, bro, I promise I’ll make it up to you…” he scratched the back of his head shyly. “So, will you help me?” 

He pleaded, eyes glittering in anticipation for what answer would Jimin possibly give to him. From the other perspective, Jimin knew in the moment Jungkook said he was going to ask him a favor that there was no way Jimin wouldn’t do it.  

“You’re really that serious about her?” Jimin attempted to ask.

“Deadly serious, bro,” he smiled at him with that cute but way too pervert smile of his. “She makes everything feel special. I think I may be in love or something…”  

“You don’t even know what you’re talking about,” 

“Okay, maybe I don’t, but come on, just help me out this time…” Bang! A new shot of Jungkook’s best doggy face for the win. 

It didn’t take so long for the younger to notice the sad expression in his friend’s face. Jimin was spacing out in front of him and all he could think about was the visible pout in his plump lips. Maybe he was… sad? Or hurt because of his proposal? Jungkook always knew that his friend was kind of sensitive and emotional in everything that comes to the relationship topic, but he never thought asking Jimin to go on a date with a girl who had a crush on him would hurt him. Jungkook was about to take off his invitation when Jimin started. 

“Okay, I’ll do it.” He answered not looking into the younger’s eyes.  

“Hyung, look at me…” 

“Just text me the place and hour you guys finds best. I’ll be there,” 

“Jimin…” 

“Whatever Jungkook, I’ll do it,” Jimin said. “For you…” he whispered the last sentence.  

“Hyung, you okay with that?” Jungkook questioned. 

“Hmhmm,” Jimin reassured him again still not meeting his gaze. “Gotta go, be waiting for your text, see ya.” 

“Oh, yep, bye. See ya.” Jungkook replied while watching his friend walk away. It was really strange watching Jimin act like that even knowing how he felt about going out with girls he didn’t liked. He just decided to shrug the feeling away and text Youngah to decide the details of their double date before Jimin gave up. 


{…} 


The message came, for Jimin’s infortune. The date and place was decided and it’d be at 5 p.m. in the Sunday in the central Shopping, close to the local both girls lived in. Jungkook arranged everything for them to take a bus at a bus stop a few blocks from their neighborhood and arrive at the Shopping almost half an hour before the girls to talk about their strategies and techniques to get to the kissing and holding hands point with their dates. Well, not actually for Jimin. The older boy wasn’t interested at all in this topic, but he’d just bare it for the day and then leave Jungkook with the person who he claimed that had gained his heart.

Nonetheless, his tough, reckless and strong heart was always also afraid of getting hurt. Jimin knew Jungkook for what looked like ages now. There wasn’t a single thing about the younger he didn’t know. If Jungkook was an artist, Jimin would probably be his most dedicated fan, he guessed. But still, should that be so difficult for a boy to truly and strongly have feelings for another boy? Even if he was – like – his best friend since their childhood?

Well, if that guy is Jeon Jungkook, then yeah, that’d be a pain in the ass. While a lot of projects from the school were about homosexuality in the nature and the social prejudice problems that comes with it and how it worked out instinctively as a natural attraction between beings, the younger always showed how uncomfortable he was with the simple mention of two males being together. That scared Jimin way too much.

After one specific episode when one of their extracurricular club colleagues started joking around about their closeness and then called them both around “Jikook”, Jungkook threw a hard punch in the guy’s arm.

“You have no idea how disgusted I am because of you.” He said to the whining guy.

That sentence would never leave Jimin’s mind even if he tried his best to erase it from his memory. He also could never be the same to Jungkook either. He could never caress softly the other’s hands and play with his fingers while he was distracted watching some gameplay on the internet. He could never surprisingly hug Jungkook from behind when the younger stood always early in front of his house patiently waiting for them to walk together to school. He could never kiss Jungkook’s cheeks when he asked only for him to come over his place, play video games and eat junk food to celebrate his birthday. Jungkook’s hands, fingers, backs and cheeks aren’t allowed for him. Jungkook’s wasn’t his.

And he knew that that even considering that possibility already disgusted Jungkook.

The days passed so fast that Jimin almost couldn’t catch a hold of the time. Well, not likely the black-haired boy could ever forget about the day of the date when Jungkook insisted to remind him every single day at school. He hid it. He hid behind smiles and automatically nods how much painful was seeing Jungkook being in love with someone else but him. Every time he felt like dying of jealously when the youger showed him pics of the girl who he was supposedly in love with: a beautiful skinny brunette girl with cat-like eyes, smooth bright skin and long legs. The exactly type Jungkook ever described him to be his ‘ideal type’. Jimin would be dating her friend, a girl as stunning as Jungkook’s date, but instead of cat-like eyes, she had more like puppy round eyes. She looked like a cute girl with honest feelings for him… But he could already picture himself telling her that the problem wasn’t with her, it was with him.

The problem was that she wasn’t his childhood best friend.

And as soon as he just decided to stop trying to forget about it, Sunday arrived like a blink of eyes.

His phone vibrated above his writing-desk and he didn’t need to catch it to know who it was and what he wanted. Jimin couldn’t make himself to wake up properly. His legs were like triple weighted and his eyes just wouldn’t stay opened.

He felt like shit.

The little earthquake on his writing-desk told him that Jungkook didn’t give up of his waking-Jimin-up mission. He just grope his phone and unlocked it to read a bright and excited message from the younger. Jimin wished he could ever be the reason of Jungkook’s happiness.

However, he’d do his best to not to mess up Jungkook’s date, not to hurt the girl’s feelings too much and to be the good friend the younger needed him to be.


{…}

They couldn’t make it to arrive at the Shopping earlier since the bus was so packed of people. They actually made it on time, but for Jimin’s luckiness they didn’t had the time to argue about strategies for that Jungkook would find out that he had none.

The girls arrived after them. They were absolutely stunning and Jungkook couldn’t stop bragging about how pretty his date was until they were face to face with them. None of them talking, just staring. Jimin looked almost desperate between gazing the cute tinny girl in front of him or Jungkook for him to start some conversation or anything. That was awkward as fuck, but as soon as he was wondering about climbing the walls next to him to run away from this whole double date thing, Jungkook started a conversation.

“So you girls arrived, how was your travel?” He asked and Jimin couldn’t help but to laugh because, come on, ‘how was your travel?’ did they just came from another country? What the fuck was that, Jungkook?

Fortunately, the two girls just laughed along with Jimin and Youngah just replied. “It was great, thank you for asking, Jungkook-oppa!”

That word made Jimin lungs turn. Damn, he felt sick just from hearing the girls calling Jungkook “oppa” in their everyday routine, now that it had the romantic connotation, he felt like he could throw up any time. He forced himself to not to roll his eyes for the next twenty seconds they passed staring each other since Jimin could feel the desire in his friend’s eyes and that that was surely reciprocal. Could that possibly get even worse?

He decided to just focus on his own date and let them be. The girl was smiling awkwardly at him and even a bit shy she just suggested. “Let’s get out of here and search for some candies, please?”

Well, that straightforwardness surprised the hell out of Jimin, but since he was going to spend the whole afternoon with this girl, why don’t give it a try, huh?

“Now we’re talking.” He answered and smiled back to her. She clapped excitedly and jumped her way out to the food center.

“Hell yeah, I’m dying for some ice cream!” Jimin laughed at her reaction and thought that maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to accept this invitation. He heard Youngah complaining a bit for some reason and he looked back only to see Jungkook gazing him while they got away. “By the way, you can call me Nari.”

“Nari then it’ll be.” He looked back at her smiling. Jimin decided to forget for that afternoon that he ever had been in love with his best friend.

{…}

“I was just wondering,” Jimin started, mouth full of ice cream.

“Hmm?” She answered, mouth full of ice cream as well.

“Your name… It sounds like the flowers…” He cleaned his face a bit to look at her curious.

“Hmm…” She gulped. “Oh, you got me, it is because of the flowers.”

“That really sounds beautiful, you know? Your mom must be really creative.” He just said. They had been talking for like half an hour now and they felt really comfortable with each other.

“Yeah, she was…” She started smiling slightly. “She was quite amazing… She used to paint, play guitar, and write poetry. I used to be connected to her art, that was the way I learned how to connect with people as well. That’s why I’m a bit… Different,” She said a bit unsure about how to say it. “She was a florist, you know? That’s why I introduce myself as Nari – like the lilies…”

Jimin fell silent watching her talking about her mom showing so much admiration in her puppy eyes. He didn’t felt like saying ‘I’m sorry for your lost’ or something like that because he was pretty sure his face expression already did the job. Like answering a silent question, she explained.

“She died from a cancer, five years ago. I was twelve at the time, but we didn’t live here, anyway…” Jimin eyes got a bit wide after hearing her answer to each non-spoken question in his mind. “I knew it was coming. A lot of people ask me that often.”

“Now I gotta say: I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s okay, but thanks for caring.” Jimin just felt like reaching out for Nari’s hand to show some support, so he did it. Her hands were cold against his warmth and he smiled softly at her.

“Guys, we’re back!” They heard Youngah announce as she and Jungkook arrived to where they were. Jimin immediately looked out for Jungkook who had his attention fixed on their linked hands above the ice crem shop table. He gazed him back looking a bit confused, but Nari replied Youngah before Jimin could think about any kind of nonsense possibility of jealously.

We ran from you two staring and flirting, not otherwise,” She revealed. “Come and sit down… have some ice cream with us!”

“From what I can see, you two reached a new level since you’re already holding hands…” She pointed to their connected hands landed on the table and giggled. Jimin immediately dropped Nari’s hands and held it shyly next to his cup of sundae.

They seated in front of each other as well so they were all facing their partners through the table, Jungkook next to Jimin, Jimin next to Youngah, Youngah next to Nari.

“So, Naeun, what were you and Jimin talking about?” Youngah asked and Jimin frowned at the strange name which joined the conversation.

“Naeun?” He asked gazing Youngah.

“It’s her name, your asshole.” Jungkook answered abruptly and sharply. Jimin kicked him almost instinctively under the table in response.

“I believe he wasn’t talking to you, Jungkook-sshi,” Nari came in Jimin’s defense. “My name is Naeun, but as I told you, I choose to be called Nari because I feel closer to my mom like this.”

“I’m the one who call her Naeun actually, because we’ve been friends for a long time.” Youngah explained.

“Well, that’s such a coincidence ‘cause me and Jungkook are also childhood friends. That’s really cool to meet people like us, isn’t it Jungkookie?”

“Yeah, whatever…” Jungkook shrugged and Jimin could watch the girls flinch at his last actions.

“Oppa, there’s something wrong?” Youngah asked smiling softly at him, Jungkook just ignored her question and brought another topic to the conversation.

“So, you and Jimin knew each other, huh?” He started and Jimin was already somehow afraid of what was coming from there. The black-haired boy watched his companion shaking her head in deny. “But it seemed like you two were pretty intimate a moment ago…” He smirked darkly. What kind of game was he playing? It was him who dragged him here to meet Nari and now he was complaining?

“You misunderstood, we’re just talking about something moving and then Jimin wanted to show me sympathy,” She said smiling to the other boy who looked stunned by the younger’s sudden insinuating questions. “It was just that.”

“Yeah, just that…” Jimin tried to end the topic. “So Youngah, where did you guys go?” He asked trying to sound interested.

“Oh, we go for a bit of window shopping, and then Jungkook bought me a gift from that pink cute store which opened recently…” She said shaking her arm excitedly; in his wrist was a cute golden bracelet with tiny pink heart pendants attached to it. “Isn’t it cute?”

“Not my style, but pretty cute.” Nari answered.

“This is really pretty, Youngah…” He just praised trying to get her attention out of Jungkook’s dark stare directed to him. “Jungkookie really does have a nice taste for gifts.”

“He indeed has!”

“You told us pinky bracelets weren’t your style, Nari… So, what are your style exactly?” He smiled at her in one attempt to make the atmosphere less dense, but all he could feel was Jungkook beside him burning holes into his skin.

“I’m more into neutral color stuff… Like chokers, I love it! I have like six of them and I’m like dying to buy more.” She explained, excited.

“Seriously? I have like three or four of them too,” He shared. “I almost put it on to come here today, but I feel afraid that maybe you just wasn’t into this kind of stuff and thought it was kinda creepy, I don’t know…”

“I’d probably think that…” Youngah raised her hand smiling.

“Really? Not at all! I’d love to see you using them one day, you gotta a nice skin to match the black leather!” She praised him.

“Oh, thank you…” He flushed and scratched the back of his head shyly. “You’ll be the second person to actually ask me to use them…”

“Really? Who was the first…?”

“Alright, let’s get going then.” Jungkook suddenly got up interrupting the conversation they were involved in.

“But it’s so early, Oppa…” Youngah whined. “Let’s stay for a bit.”

“We gotta go, Jimin’s mom told us to be home early…” The brunette affirmed.

“She actually didn’…”

“She said, you don’t remember as you always don’t remember anything…” He scolded Jimin.

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” Jimin lost his temper getting up to stare face to face at him. Jungkook invited him to scold him in front of everybody and expect him to be nice and quiet about it? He was just being a jerk since the whole double date thing started.

“Wow, take it easy boys…” Nari tried to pacify the situation only to gain a not really nice stare from the brunette.

“Jungkook-oppa, let’s get going then…” Youngah spoke softly looking frightened to the other two.

Jungkook grope his wallet, and the rest of the amount of things he and Youngah just bought while walking at the Shopping.

“I’m staying,” Jimin stated. “Bye, Youngah, take care.” He waved to her receiving a greeting back and a soft smile from her. “Nari, do you mind staying with me? I can take you home later…” He offered.

“Not at all. I saw a cool store which I wanna take a look at it.” She said.

The brunette looked one last time to Nari, then rested his gaze on Jimin for a bit of more than necessary time and sighed.

“Bye, Jungkook.”

“Bye, Jimin.” He answered sharply, turning on his feet and making his way out of the ice cream shop. He looked so angry that even Youngah was afraid of walking too close of him.


{…}

A/N: alright so that’s my first time writing a Jikook fanfiction and i was pretty worried about my english (as it isn’t my native language), but still i wanted to give it a shot. anyway, i’m gonna be posting the next chapter soon, so if some of the shippers feel like joining me and reading the story, i’ll be happy to share with you guys my most random plots. see ya. <3

Quel que soit son domaine de création, le véritable esprit créatif n’est rien d’autre que ça : une créature humaine née anormalement, inhumainement sensible. Pour lui, un effleurement est un choc, un son est un bruit, une infortune est une tragédie, une joie devient extase, l’ami un amoureux, l’amoureux est un dieu, et l’erreur est la fin de tout. Ajoutez à cet organisme si cruellement délicat l’impérieuse nécessité de créer, créer, et encore créer – au point que sans la possibilité de créer de la musique, de la poésie, des livres, des édifices, ou n’importe quoi d’autre qui ait du sens, il n’a plus de raison d’être. Il doit créer, il doit se vider de sa créativité. Par on ne sait quelle étrange urgence intérieure, inconnue, il n’est pas vraiment vivant à moins qu’il ne soit en train de créer.
—  Pearl Buck
Is Quigley Quagmire a liar?

Every self-respecting Snicket fan has entertained the theory of a deceiving, villainous Quigley Quagmire at least once. In honor of this cherished tradition, the Snicket Sleuth is now proud to present a variation on this idea.

The character is suspicious and mysterious; however, it’s not that easy an accusation to prove. Quigley has numerous occasions to betray the Baudelaire orphans throughout the story and doesn’t seize them. And, although the stories he tells them about his life after the Quagmire fire are full of holes, his allegations are largely confirmed by other characters (Kit Snicket, Captain Widdershins, etc).

More reasonably, we can therefore assume that Quigley is not a liar per se. He could, however, be guilty of retaining important information from people who need it the most. He may have a variety of motives, but he seems to do it mostly out of shame. Quigley’s past actions may indeed have (unwillingly) caused Jacques Snicket’s death. Let’s start our trial after the cut.

Keep reading

« Face au malheur, il faut garder le regard hautain. Nous ne sommes des vaincus que lorsque notre âme est vaincue. L’infortune n’est qu’un incident. La vraie souffrance de l’exil n’est pas là. Ce qui m’est dur, ce qui m’est cruel, c’est de sentir que les dizaines d’années pendant lesquelles j’eusse pu bâtir du grand s’effilochent, silencieuses et inutiles. A la fin de la Seconde Guerre mondiale, j’avais trente-huit ans. Je portais en moi des forces tumultueuses, que je ne distinguais qu’imparfaitement. Elles gisent inertes au fond de ma solitude. Ce que j’eusse pu réaliser, pour moi et surtout pour les autres, m’a été interdit. L’exil m’a enterré vivant. Depuis 1945, je n’ai survécu qu’en hibernation. Là est le vrai drame de mon exil : serrer contre mon cœur des possibilités incandescentes, étouffées sous une chape de plomb. J’étais fait pour créer. Depuis des dizaines d’années mes bras sont vides. Ne serais-je plus que le chômeur de l’épopée, aux outils brisés pour l’éternité ?… […] Face à cette faillite de l’après-guerre, pourquoi, nous, les vaincus provisoires, aurions-nous à courber la tête ! […] Nous n’avons qu’un désir à cette heure, c’est que l’idéal qui brûla en nous renaisse rapidement dans le monde.
Avec toutes mes forces, jusqu’au dernier moment de mon existence, je lutterai pour que demeure vivant et exemplaire dans le cœur des jeunes ce que fut notre épopée, sa foi lumineuse, sa passion du don, jalonnée par le sacrifice de tant de nos camarades restés glacés dans les neiges de l’Est. […] L’immolation des jeunes garçons tombés pour créer, charnellement, l’Europe, leurs vertus, leurs leçons prophétiques, un jour, j’en suis sûr, recréeront la vie. […] La grandeur n’est jamais vaine. Elle apparaît rarement. Mais quand son feu jaillit, tôt ou tard, elle se ranime. » 

Léon Degrelle persiste et signe, pp. 428-430.

L'Amoureux.
Lunes, ivoires, instruments, roses,
Lampes et la ligne de Dürer,
Les neufs chiffres et le zéro changeant,
Je dois feindre que ces choses existent.

Je dois feindre qu'elles furent dans le passé
Persépolis et Rome et qu'un sable
Subtil mesura le sort du créneau
Que les siècles de fer démantelèrent.

Je dois feindre les armes et le bûcher
De l'épopée et les lourdes mers
Qui rongent les piliers de la terre.

Je dois feindre que les autres sont. C'est faux.
Seule toi tu es. Toi, mon infortune
Et ma fortune, inépuisable et pure.

— 

Jorge Luis Borge

My dad does a lot of bad jokes

So the other day me and my parents started watching “A series of infortunate events” (we watch it in french because we are french canadian and my mom is not perfect in english)
Anyway, in the english intro it says “Look away, look away” but in the french version it says instead “Éteignez vos télés, éteignez vos téles wich basically translate to ”Close your TV, close your TV

So when we first watched it, MY DAD FUCKING CLOSED THE TV. And I was all like ?????? Why did you close it??? Did u press on somethin???
And he just said No, they asked me to close it

I swear to god it’s proably the worst and best joke he ever made, and im still shook.

One of my current frustrations is people around me acting like they definitely have it harder than me, and interacting with me like they’re talking to someone who cannot possibly be going through hardship too. 

I shouldn’t have to reveal my account of pain and traumas for people to consider that maybe I too have to cope with recurring episodes of depression and have limits to the support I am able to provide my friends. Being talked to like I have some kind of privilege of not knowing what living with PTSD is like is infuriating and makes me feel extremely uneasy and bitter.

Ain’t I a black woman?

I too have the infortune of embodying the Strong Black Woman stereotype; the one whose strength is rooted in adversity and whose sense of sharing and equity comes from scarcity. It is sad this survival mechanism of mine seems to be interpreted as an advantage I simply provision my community with. I give because I know what is to be in need, not because I have too much.

L'amoureux.

Lunes, ivoires, instruments, roses,
Lampes et la ligne de Dürer,
Les neufs chiffres et le zéro changeant,
Je dois feindre que ces choses existent.

Je dois feindre qu'elles furent dans le passé
Persépolis et Rome et qu'un sable
Subtil mesura le sort du créneau
Que les siècles de fer démantelèrent.

Je dois feindre les armes et le bûcher
De l'épopée et les lourdes mers
Qui rongent les piliers de la terre.

Je dois feindre que les autres sont. C'est faux.
Seule toi tu es. Toi, mon infortune
Et ma fortune, inépuisable et pure..

—  Poèmes d’amour. Jorge Luis Borges
Why did Jon got stabbed ?

(I answered this question on another website and I found it interesting, so I put it back here.)

It’s a combination of several factors :

  1. His new distance from his peers. Sure, Jon has been raised as a lord’s (Paramour lord) son, and thus received the education of one ; which is why Jeor Mormont chose to take him as his “apprentice”, probably counting on him to take his place later (which he does, but much before the Old Bear expected). But despite that, Jon spent almost four books being a brother like any other. He did the same chores, ate at the same table, had the same training,… But all that changes when he becomes Lord Commander. He then decides to distance himself from them, not because he particulary wants to, but because he believes that a leader and his men shouldn’t be too close as he may decide to send them into battle and can’t thus afford sentimentality (something Ned told him apparently, which is weird because Arya heard him tell Robb to know his men and “don’t let your men die for a stranger”… but anyway). I don’t think the brothers are jealous (after all they elected him and I don’t think there is a lot of people who’d like to assume this job), but they are certainly hurt, especially his friends. The others must think this new power must have gone to his head (something us readers know is not true), and resent him for feeling superior.
  2. His decisions as a Lord Commander were too aggressive. Jon was way ahead of his time. He challenged traditions that were there for centuries, maybe thousands of years, and in a very short laps of time. He chose to let the Wildlings go south of the Wall (something that never happened before, at least not consciously), despite the all-time struggling between the Night’s Watch and them (after the Others fell the first time, the wildlings became their main ennemies, and there is blood on both sides). He was seen as close to Stannis, and if we know he refused to be “his”, he still spent a lot of time with him - thus breaking the neutrality of the NW. And ultimately, the last straw was when he decided to go and rescue Arya, which is a direct violation of his vows (“I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children”). As readers, we know Jon’s decisions are actually pragmatic and good. Letting the wildlings in is both morally good and gives them men for the upcoming battle with the Others (something the NW lacks tremendously). Allying with Stannis gives them soldiers (aka trained men, discipline - which is not the wildlings strong suit) and supplies. He actually tries to know the Others better, not by morbid curiosity but to be able to fight them better (and he gets a lot of shit for that, by the men who don’t understand and are scared of these magical creatures). And rescuing Arya… OK, that don’t really serve the Night’s Watch but 1. it is a personal decision ; he asks if some men want to come, but he doesn’t force them. 2. it is so very cute he decides to break his lifetime vows because he loves his little sister so much and 3. despite what they say, the Night’s Watch can’t be neutral anymore. Whether they want it or not, they depend on who rules the North. It was fine when it was good people like the Starks, but with someone like Roose and Ramsay Bolton, they can only decline (plus, do you think they would send men to fight the Others ? I don’t. They’re more likely to let them all die). Which lead me to point 3…
  3. The Night’s Watch is dark and full of terrors. Before, it was an organization that brave men held, who enrolled willingly. It was an honor to be in the Night’s Watch. Now it is a lair of thieves, rapists and murderers, all the scum Westeros didn’t want (plus some unfortunate fellows victims of their lords). They’re not educated, and probably not very intelligent. For them, getting to the Wall was a way to avoid gelding, not the first line before a threat that hadn’t been seen since 8000 years ! They are afraid. And infortunately, instead of, like Jon, trying to prepare themselves they burry their heads in the sand (well, the snow) and sing very loud to cover the truth. They are ferociously trying to get back to the status quo who had been there for thousands of years, and thus every change (even necessary !) is a threat to this status quo. Look at how every decision Jon made was met negatively by Bowen Marsh and co !

So in short, Jon was stabbed because he tried to go too hard too fast. Even if that was necessary (there’s an army of walking dead coming closer by the seconds !), his changes were too much for the fragile Night’s Watch. Jon let them in the dark when he didn’t explain why he was doing them, and they reacted as frightened men do before the unknown : they attack.

 Il s’agit de cette hypocrisie libérale, toujours prête à s’attendrir sur les victimes les plus éloignées. Les libéraux aiment passionnément les peuples opprimés – sauf celui qu’ils oppriment. Secourir les Grecs, pleurer sur le Bulgare, on n’a pas inventé de meilleur moyen pour oublier l’ouvrier lyonnais et concilier une âme tendre avec le souci de ses intérêts. Toujours, ils mettent une petite condition à leur pitié : c’est qu’elle soit inutile.     Ainsi, beaucoup réprouvaient la peine de mort qui n’ont pas bougé quand on a fusillé Brasillach. Les malheurs de la France réclamaient des victimes : on pouvait souhaiter que ces victimes fussent plus souvent des dénonciateurs que des écrivains. Il n’en a pas été question. Le nouveau régime avait besoin d’espions, il n’entendait pas se priver de cette race précieuse. Quant aux gens de lettres, on décida de les épurer. Avec dévouement, leurs confrères, en Corps constitué, se vouèrent à cette tâche.     De sorte que nous sommes émus par l’infortune des nègres américains, mais nous n’en tirons pas gloire et nous ne ferons pas de ce sentiment un article de religion. Il se prépare en Europe un trouble beaucoup plus considérable : c’est la fin de la France. Évidemment, il est doux de s’attendrir. Ces larmes sont faciles. L’émancipation des Noirs est une très bonne distraction à l’emprisonnement des Français. Ces intellectuels éclairés que le Parti communiste a vomis cent fois, trouvent encore le moyen de lui rendre service, un peu comme ces domestiques renvoyés, qui travaillent pour le plaisir, ne demandent pas de gages et n’ont d’autres récompenses qu’un sourire au premier de l’an sur le visage des maîtres.     Nous ne pensons pas que la guerre soit nécessaire ou fatale. Simplement, nous tenons ferme sur ces deux points : il faut que la France reste une nation – il faut qu’elle ait une Armée. Une occupation étrangère nous a bien suffi. Il est beaucoup plus agréable de mourir sous un uniforme beige, avec des camarades, que d’être déporté ou fusillé. Nous songeons donc à notre plaisir quand nous disons qu’il nous convient de mourir sur nos frontières et pour nos raisons. Manifestement, nos gouvernants girondins et ses penseurs officiels ne partagent pas cette opinion. La neutralité de la France comblera leurs vœux. « Enfin, disent-ils ! Nous serons quelque chose comme la Hollande ou Monaco. » A cette idée, notre camarade Brissot ne sent plus de joie et Ledru-Rollin écrase furtivement une larme. Notre armée comprendra quinze hommes et un brigadier-chef, tous foncièrement antimilitaristes et lecteurs de Romain Rolland. Si les étrangers nous occupent, nous ne les regarderons seulement pas.     Ce système présente d’admirables avantages, puisqu’il met les barbares d’un côté, les neutres de l’autre et la France nulle part. il faut une très mauvaise volonté pour s’y opposer, un sens bien voluptueux de l’histoire pour préférer la terre d’Alsace à la Sibérie. Nous avons cette très mauvaise volonté, car il est plus amusant de défendre la liberté du monde sur le Rhin que sur l’Adour. 


Roger Nimier, Le Grand d'Espagne

A Master List of Things Ruled by the Planets, the Signs, and the Fixed Stars

This will be the ninth post in our series on astrological magic. Now I’m going to expand on the planets, signs, and fixed stars, and give you some information about the particular perfumes, plants, and materials which are influenced by specific celestial bodies. This will be a fairly extensive post, detailing many things which are under the influence of the various celestial powers, or which otherwise correspond to them. I will start with the planets, going in Chaldean order, which means I’ll be starting with Saturn. This post intends to be very useful, but in order to successfully draw power from the heavenly bodies and have their energy directed effectively to carry out your will, you should not use this post as the only reference for your methods. Be safe, and feel free to ask us if you have any questions.

Keep reading

3

Dexter needed only minor adjustments. I glued gold pearl gemstones on for buttons, added a white undershirt, added some dark brown highlights to his hair, added epaulettes to his shoulders, and finally painted his shoe laces white. I was going to move his pin down to the right side of his jacket, but infortunately its hiding a large hole from the factory sewing.

Sansa, or the deconstruction of the princess trope

One of the things that fascinates me in Sansa Stark’s character is how she is a clear deconstruction of the princess trope.

Sansa starts the saga as a princess in everything except in title. She is beautiful, kind, skilled, she’s the daughter of one of the most powerful family in the kingdom, she lives in a castle with everything she needs and wants,… And later she even gets to marry a prince, what more can you ask ! In every way Sansa, at the beginning of AGOT, was a perfect fairytale princess.

(P.S : I’m talking about the most common version of fairytales, the ones that everyone knows)

In fact, her storyline looks, seemingly, very much like one of these tales. Tt has a lot of the fairytales’ tropes. A young girl kind and beautiful ? Check. Disappearance of the protective/parental figure ? Check. Malevolent protagonist(s) ? Check. Gets locked in a tower/dungeon/castle ? Check. You have to admit her story has a lot in common with those of Cinderella, Rapunzel or Snow-White (Evil Queen/Step-mother everyone ?).

Sansa starts the story as a naive girl whose main goal is to live a perfect life like those in the songs (nothing excessive, right).

« All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs. » Sansa, AGOT

I told about the reasons why she wants it that way here, so I’m not gonna come back on it. But frankly, her life was pretty much perfect until the arrival of Robert and Dick!Joffrey. She was beautiful, had the admiration of her peers, excelled in the womanly arts, lacked for nothing,… Like a lot a fairytales’ heroines in fact :

  • Snow-White : born from a queen and king, is said to be beautiful of course, but also kind and humble ;

  • Cinderella : daughter of a « gentilhomme », is said to have inherited her softness and goodness from her mother (and is beautiful) ;

  • Ariel : have a fantastic voice, daughter of the king of the ocean, beautiful,… ;

She is the incarnation of what Westeros’ society tells girls to be, like the heroines of fairytales carry features that were asked of girls (the moral at the end was meant to teach values to children). But infortunately she also embodies a lot of sexist ideas behind – I mean she believes they are true and doesn’t see their wrongness, but that’s like a lot of girls/women of Westeros. She believes girls must be obedient and submissive to their husbands, immaculate, somewhat passive in my opinion – a lot of features we find in fairytales’ heroines.

And so like in every story a disruptive element happens that changes the original situation. Here it’s them coming to King’s Landing and of course Ned’s death (the first book in short). After that Sansa finds herself trapped, surrounded by foes, captive – like Rapunzel in her tower, Snow-White in the coffin, Sleeping Beauty with her curse,… - And like a princess she waits for her hero to come and save her…

« Robb will kill you all, she thought, exulting. » Sansa, ASOS

« He is no true knight but he saved me all the same. » Sansa, ACOK

« Home, she thought, home, [Dontos] is going to take me home, he’ll keep me safe, my Florian. The songs about Florian and Jonquil were her very favorites. » Sansa, ACOK

… Except it’s A Song of Ice and Fire and there is no such thing as a happy ending. Robb dies, the Hound leaves, Loras Tyrell (her « perfect knight ») is more interested in his family’s interest rather than save a damsel in distress.

Sansa learns that life is not a song. She little by little loses her illusions ; no one is going to save her.

« There are no heroes… In life, the monsters win. » Sansa, AGOT

Princesses are supposed to be protected from the villains, someone is supposed to come and save them. But no one does. So what is she going to do ?

Well she learns how to protect herself. She learns to read people, to blend, how to use courtesies as her weapons. She learns to watch. When she is with Littlefinger (by the way, another parallel with fairytales because she is literally a princess in a tower – with Robb proclamed King in the North she is a princess by title and the Eyrie is known to be high in the sky and impregnable) she takes his teaching, how to give him what he wants. She learns how to survive. She learns how to save herself.

That’s why I don’t care who Sansa is going to end with, Sandor or Willas or Harrold or the inventor of lemon cakes ; because, unlike society taught her, in the end she doesn’t need any man. She doesn’t need any hero. She only needs herself.

Fox and butterfly

Another gift for @bullysquadess happy birthday again

(It’s a super rough draft if you guys like it I can continue it)

[AO3] [Part 2] 

A tall woman with light brown skin and dark brown hair walked silently, elegantly down the corridor’s path. Her even lighter brown eyes looked around the corridor, before lifting up the side of her beautiful orange dress to retrieve the pistol from the holster that was attached to her thigh. Her dress falling back into place once she had the gun in her hand.


She moved the bangs from her eyes as she placed her back against the corridor’s wall and peaked around the corner, to see a man with blonde hair wearing a black suit, enter the door at the end of the branching hallway.


It had to be him, it just had too.


She brought a finger to her ear, pressing a button to speak to the members at the Headquarters. “I found him, I’m going after him.” She spoke only loud enough for the people on the other end to hear her, but soft enough so no one else could.


“Wait for back up Agent Volpina.” The voice on the other end spoke to her. She growled at the voice, she wasn’t going to wait. She was close to him, closer than she had ever been. If she waited now she would lose him.


“No.” She hissed to the people at Headquarters and removed her finger from her ear and walked down the branching hallway, taking the safety off her gun. She wasn’t going to let him get away. Not this time.


“Do not engage Volpina! Do not engage!” The voice shouted in her ear, but she ignored the voice. She held up her gun and slowly gripped the door knob.


With a quick motion she forced the door open, holding her gun out, with her finger on the the trigger, ready to fire.


The room was filled with books upon every wall, with a desk in the middle of the room and to her dismay, no one was here. The room was empty, save for a purple butterfly card that laid on desk.


“Damn it!” She cursed under her breath. She closed the door behind her, which was the only exit. “Where the hell did you go, Papillon?”


She walked behind the desk, running her fingers along the edges and underneath the desk, searching for a button or switch or something that would lead to him.


When she could not find anything, she set her gun on the desk and punched the bookshelf behind her making the case itself shake. “Shit!”


She was so close, but yet he was in the wind. She turned back around and eyed the purple butterfly card that sat on the desk. She carefully picked it up and opened it reading the message that he had left for her, it had been typed out for her.


“My dearest Volpina,


How long have we played this game of Cat and Mouse? It feels like years and I am beginning to feel that we have grown attached to each other. Your need to find me and my need to outsmart the clever fox. Sadly, I must end this game. I have no idea what you look like nor your name and I’m sure you don’t know who I am beside my alternate name. So for now I say to you.


Adieu, mon petit renard.”


She scowled at those words. His little fox indeed. She noticed there was more writing down near the edge of card.


“L'amour fait les plus grandes douceurs et les plus sensibles infortunes de la vie.”


She tore the card in her hands, she was furious that he would write a love poem to her. Had he fallen for her or was he simply teasing her thinking that she had fallen in love with him? Either way the thought disgusted her.


She brought her finger to her ear. “He’s gone.” She sighed. “There must be a secret passage in the room I’m in but the time I find the book that opens the door, he will be in the wind.”


“I told you to wait for backup!” The voice said, sounding angry that a direct order had been disobeyed. “Was there another card?”


“Even if I had, he still would have gotten away!” She yelled back, she was already pissed that she lost him and how he insulted her with that poem, she didn’t need her handler yelling back at her. “And yeah, same as the last thousand times he did. Probably no finger prints too. It’s his goodbye letter.”


The voice on the other end sighed. “Fine, we’ll send a team in anyways to find that passage and go see if there is anything we can find. However, I want you back to the base. I have a few words for you.”


“Great can’t wait.” She said sarcastically removing her finger from her ear.


Hours later she was suspended from the case. Too close to the case and insubordinate. She argued on how that was complete and utter bullshit that she was suspended just for going after the man she had been searching so long for. If she was anything like her mother she was stubborn and headstrong.


But arguing didn’t help her case and only further proved the point that she was obsessed with him and the case. Her handler told her she was off the case and that was final.


She stormed out of the office, and went to change into her regular clothes in the locker room. Wearing this dress wasn’t practical anymore. As she dawned her casual clothes she over heard from another agent that they found evidence that Papillon was heading to Paris. She smirked and grabbed her phone to book the first flight to Paris.


She wasn’t going to let him get away.


When she got back to her apartment, she fell face first into her bed, groaning loudly as she did. She would have to pack up soon and move out of this apartment if she wanted to catch her flight to Paris. Which was easy enough since she had been living out of her suitcase still and she had nothing of value to take with her besides her bed, but she figured she could part with it.


Her phone began to ring, she sighed and dug her hand into her pocket and pulled it out. “Hello?”


“Hey Piper, it’s your mother.” Alya said over the phone. It was nice to hear her mother’s voice again.


“Oh hey mom, what’s up?” She asked turning over to lay on her back.


“I wanted to call and tell you that we were invited to Emma’s wedding and we were wondering if you could come.” She replied.


“Em’s getting married?” Piper was shocked to hear the news that one of her old friends from her childhood was getting married. She hadn’t seen Emma since she left to go to school in America. She remembered that Emma was dating Lotte. We’re they still together after all these years? “Who is she marrying?”


“Oh, she’s marrying Lotte.” Her mother replied. “So you coming?”


“Yeah totally!” She sat up smiling. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world! I can’t wait.” It would also be a good cover up as to why she was flying to Paris


“Good, when are you flying out?” Alya asked.


“Oh uh, tomorrow morning. Things aren’t working out so well here, so I decided to head back home.” She lied.


“Oh honey, I’m sorry. Our doors are always opened for you.” She was always a supportive mother.


“Thanks mom, but I’ll find an apartment when I get there. Maybe find a roommate if the rent is expensive.” She said, getting up out of her bed to put away clothes and her bathroom supplies into her suitcase.


“Alright Piper, if you say so. Oh hey, I got to go, talk to you later okay?” And with that she hung up.


Piper was a little bit miffed that her mother had failed to mention when the wedding was, but she would find out about it when she arrived.


She continued to pack and then set her luggage by the door. She went down stairs to tell the owner that she was leaving tomorrow and would return her keys in the drop in box when she left.


The owner was surprised by this since she was paid to the end of the month, but shrugged and accepted that she was leaving.


—-


“I’m going to miss my little fox,” The blonde man sighed as his chauffeur drove him to the airport. “I wonder if she found the card?”


“You left it in an obvious spot, Louis.” The bald man that sat next to him said. “Becoming careless and arrogant. You need to wise up, boy.” The man smacked him in the back of the head making Louis glare at him. “Be lucky we are pulling you out, the Miraculous TaskForce is closing in on us. So lay low.”


“Fine. A little break wouldn’t hurt anyways.” He shrugged as they pulled up to the airport. “This is my stop.”


“Indeed it is,” the man agreed. “We will contact you when it’s safe to get back to work. Oh and warm regards to your family.”


Louis nodded stepping out of the car, closing the door behind him and he went to the trunk to pull out his luggage. He was going to miss America. He was going to miss his fox. But he was going to miss teasing her.


He closed the trunk and watched the car drive away, leaving a cloud of smoke behind it making him cough.


He turned to enter the airport and a little while later board the plane itself.


He sat in the back of the plane and watching the others board. He saw a gorgeous woman board and she looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. She was sitting in the front, she looked so familiar.


It bugged him for the rest of the flight and when they landed, he tried to find her but he didn’t see her. She was gone.


He put it out of his mind for it was just a person that happened to look like someone he knew. It happens all the time.


After claiming his bags, he exited the airport and was greeted by his mother. “Louis!” She shouted happily, wrapping her arms around her son in a big hug.


“Hey mom.” He smiled hugging her back. “It’s good to see you again. Where is everyone?”


“Hugo is at work at the bouquet, and Emma is at home along with Bridgette and your father.” She said, “My you’ve grown. You look just like him.”


“Heh, thanks mom. Shall we go home?” He asked gripping his luggage.


“Yes, let’s go home.”