joie de vie

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Le rire dans les bidonvilles: le meilleur travail du photographe de rue Shirley Baker

Shirley Baker, décédée récemment , a documenté la vie quotidienne au Royaume-Uni avec un oeil attentif, transformant des scènes prosaïques dans les bidonvilles et les océans en images paisibles et romantiques. Voici une sélection de ses meilleurs travaux.

Photographer Moby’s best shot
© 2017 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved.

Il faut rire avant que d'être heureux, de peur d'avoir vécu sans avoir ri.
— 

La Bruyère…

c’est à cause de phrases comme celle-là que La Bruyère est mon sensei, mon yoda à moi. En gros, les conditions du bonheur ne sont jamais réunies, ne sont jamais parfaitement assemblées, toujours il y a quelque chose qui manque ou qui déconne un peu, vient gâcher un peu le tableau et la sagesse (au sens de La Bruyère) consiste à ne pas attendre que tout soit nickel pour jouir de la vie, se réjouir avec d’autres. Voilà. le bonheur comme idéal, la joie comme mode de vie. 

Amour de ma vie

Originally posted by wonhontology

Pairing: Wonho/Reader

Genre: Fluff/suggestive Smut???

Length: 760 words

Summary:  Tu es l'amour et la joie de ma vie. Pour toujours et toujours. (You are the love and joy of my life. Forever and always) Where you are fluent in french and your boyfriend is having some trouble understanding you

___________________________________________________________

The sun shining through the curtains was what woke you up from your peaceful slumber. You squinted your eyes and snuggled deeper into your pillow. But your eyes shot open when your pillow started to move. Wonho pulled you closer to his bare chest. “Good morning baby.”  he said in his sexy morning voice. You turned around in his tight grip to look at him.

Even with his messy bed hair and tired expression he looked like an angel.
“How did you sleep?” You scoffed at his suggestive question. “Not enough, thanks to you.” Wonho ran a hand up and down your side and kissed your neck softly. “You weren’t complaining last night when you were screaming my na-” You cut him off by slapping his arm. The blush creeping on your face didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. He let out a heartfelt laugh at the cute reaction. 

You stayed there, in his arms for some more time before wriggling out of his grip. Wonho grunted in displeasure. “Stay.”
You giggled at his needy demeanor. “But I have to pee.” he groaned but let you go. As soon as you got up, you felt soreness shoot through your lower half. Wonho’s eyes followed your every move and he chuckled when he saw you limp to the bathroom. He knew exactly what he could do to you.
The idol grinned before falling back into the softness of his pillow.

∞ 

 Finishing your business in the bathroom, you decided to head to the kitchen to make some coffee.You threw on one of Wonho’s button-ups. Walking through the apartment, your boyfriend was nowhere to be found so you assumed he was still in bed. While letting your coffee machine do it’s work, you swayed around in the room, softly humming along to the song playing on the radio.
You were so consumed  in the melody that you didn’t notice you had an audience. Wonho was leaning against the doorframe, black sweatpants dangerously low on his hips and arms crossed over his broad chest.

He had a soft, loving smile on his lips as he quietly watched you. Wonho pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to you. You let out a little shriek when you felt his strong arms go around your waist from behind.
“You scared me.” 

Wonho kissed your cheek and whispered an apology. “I made you some coffee.” you handed him his mug. With coffee in hand, the two of you settled on the couch. Your legs were draped over his lap and you watched as your boyfriend looked for the newest episode of a show. Others may find your staring creepy, but to you it was normal. Some of the calmest times with him were when you just laid next to each other silently observing the other.  
When he found the correct episode, Wonho turned his head to look at you. 
“What?” he asked. Shaking your head, you snuggled into his side. Your lover looked down at your small frame and studied your grin closely.
“Tell me Y/N.” Wonho demanded playfully. “It’s nothing.” you giggled.
The idol chuckled. “Really?” 
You nodded while still giggling. “Well if you won’t tell me I’ll just have to find out myself.” 

With that said he flipped you on your back and dug his fingers into your sides. You screeched and thrashed underneath him. The boy above you continued to tickle you. You were struggling for breath by now and your laughter came out as more of a squeak. “Tell me and I’ll stop.” Wonho laughed. 
“Never!” you yelled. Wonho’s attack didn’t stop and your stomach was beginning to hurt from all the laughter. “Fine, fine I’ll tell you”
He stopped tickling you but stayed on top of your body.  “Tu es l'amour et la joie de ma vie.”

Wonho’s eyebrows furrowed and he gave you a confused look. “Y/N,” he whined, “not all of us had A’s only in french class.” 
“You’re the love and joy of my life.” A smile grew on his face and he moved off you. “Ok, so what does I love you forever and always mean?” Wonho questioned, pulling you on his lap. You kissed him before replying. “Je t'aime pour toujours et toujours.” 
Your boyfriend repeated the words you had said. Well, at least  he tried. His failed attempt at the french pronunciation made you let out an unattractive snort. 

“That’s good enough. Oh and pour moi aussi mon amour.” Wonho let out a long groan in frustration. “And what the fuck does that mean?” 


A/N: so I’m sorry that this turned out lame af buuuuuut I get bored in french classes very easily so this is what my kpop overtaken mind comes up with instead of memorizing french vocabulary.

L'Argent est Fait Pour Rouler

The time is now and the place is the 7th arrondissement of Paris, France. Here the wealthiest of the city live, work and of course– play. It’s not easy to be them, though. The rich often become restless. With money comes trouble, complications and worst of all boredom. At dinners, gossip is the best topic of conversation and judging each other is never far behind. Are you ready to enter the world of Paris’ Elite?

Want In?

Joie De Vie RPG is a skeleton and OC tumblr rp group, about those who live and work in the wealthiest district in Paris. Admins are currently working to create a diverse, open, and friendly environment for roleplaying! 

If you’re interested, simply reblog this promo! From the notes, we’ll randomly select five winners to reserve FCs for the first round of acceptances.

You can also get the conversation started by using our talk tag: jdvtalk

THE TENTATIVE OPENING DATE FOR JOIE DE VIE IS APRIL 2ND

Okay so it's one year later, I have some things I want to say:

So I love projects, like a lot, I was one of those annoying kids at school who would always be running new initiatives and trying to coerce people to buy into and still years later whether it be may be in my personal life, at work or at home, I am constantly looking at new things to create and plan, and the Klaroline Magazine began as one of these.

More than projects, I love people, I believe in the potential that is housed in many, I believe that with encouragement and support people can become empowered to reach their dreams. And that hope is fostered in communities. For me, the Klaroline Magazine was a vessel for the talent that the fandom housed to be showcased, for people young and old to gain experience in writing, in publishing, in journalism, reviewing, graphic making, human resources, marketing, interviewing etc. It was a place where the fandom could go to get their constant fix of Klaroline once the scenes are scant, if the edits and fanfics are low and if they did not have fellow friends in the fandom to support them, and I hope that is has become a place like this for many.

But the Magazine is not about me, it has grown far larger than I ever believed it could, and it is truly a fandom project, because so many people have contributed to what it is today that no person can take ownership of it. It it ours, and we all deserve to celebrate this achievement.

But because so many people helped me to make my dream a reality, there are people I want to thank specifically on this special day:

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I like us better when we're wasted

This is the first time I’ve written in like 50 years, this started as birthday gift for kcismyreligion back in July but now I guess it’s just a happy September gift. 

The problem with being in a group of friends is that there is always one that you aren’t fond of, that you sometimes ‘forget’ to invite to group events, who when they say the simplest sentence annoys you as if they just dragged their nails down a blackboard.

Caroline was an amicable person; she liked people and people just happened to like her too.  She boasted that she could melt the hearts of even the sourest of people…but then there was Klaus Mikaelson - the exception to the rule, the one who made her want to claw out her own eyeballs while simultaneously murdering him - slowly, to inflict maximum pain.

She didn’t know what it was about the older Mikaelson that made her see red but all of her interactions with him either ended up in her storming away or a scoff and an eyeroll, and a smirk on his end. Sometimes she simply believed that the gods had put him on earth just to irk her.

Caroline’s history with the Mikaelson’s began during one summer when she was nine years old. She was in England visiting her paternal grandmother (who had emigrated in order to marry her long term penpal - don’t ask it’s a long story) when she befriended Rebekah Mikaelson, who lived next door. Rebekah did not have many friends, she blamed it on her overprotective parents and the fact that they moved around a lot, but during that summer Rebekah and Caroline developed a friendship that lasted through letters, emails and eventually texts until Rebekah made the big move over to the States.

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