not la but nearby

Sweetest Kisses and Wine - Arse

           The cellar was cool; light from the candle flickering on a nearby table. François de la Serre had left an hour earlier for some meeting, so there was no fear that he’d come stumbling down here to find his daughter and ward sharing a bottle of wine. He was almost fifteen, she already was. “How can you even drink this stuff Arno? It’s disgusting,” Élise said. “Much too sweet.”

           “I like sweet things,” Arno said, “it’s Bordeaux, what’s wrong with Bordeaux?” He took a hearty swig from the bottle.

           “Nothing,” Élise said, grabbing the bottle from him. She took a gulp, her throat constricting with her swallow. Arno stared, fixated. “It’s just so cloyingly sweet.”

           “This is your first bottle of wine, Élise, how can you judge?” Arno asked, accepting the bottle from her. He shook it; they had almost drunk all of it.

           “How do you know it’s my first bottle. I don’t tell you everything I do in Paris in my letters.”

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64 days in heaven and hell (74)
More decoration
Van Gogh was hiring the Yellow House since May 1, 1888 and initially only used a room downstairs as his studio, spending his nights in the nearby Café de la Gare.
After about four months, he decided he should furnish the house and move into it, wether Gauguin would one day show up in Arles or not. He was able to pry some money from his brother, and with some advice from his postman-friend and his wife, Van Gogh bought the furniture for two bedrooms and some essentials for the kitchen.

In those days, he worked feverishly to produce the decorations for the house. This ‘Ploughed Fields’ is just one of many.

Vincent Van Gogh, The Ploughed Field, September 1888. Oil on canvas, 72,5 x 92,5 cm. Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam (F 574, JH 1586)

Hi y’all~ any fellow trans surfers in LA or nearby areas? Shoot me a message :) Let’s go catch some waves and live our endless summer dreams; get cheap tacos and live our endless diarrhea nightmares :D


Emily & Felicity Blunt

“There are infinite possibilities in life.“

Within seconds of meeting Emily and Felicity Blunt it’s clear they are lovers of literature and life, as they immediately jump into deep discussion about the books they’re here to swap and discuss. Laughter bounces off the walls of Riva, their favourite restaurant local to the south London family home they grew up in (Felicity still lives nearby, Emily resides in LA), in between some serious philosophising and even a few tears…

“Book clubs exist in conversation,” Felicity muses. “If you meet someone at a bus stop and they ask you about [what you’re reading], that’s a book club. And because I recommended this to Em, that is a book club. We are a club of people who love books.

The book Felicity has recommended is Kate Atkinson’s Life After Life. “It’s a story of infinite possibilities in life,” she explains. “So you turn left or you turn right, you make your train or you miss your plane. I often think if Lauren Weisberger hadn’t written The Devil Wears Prada… If she hadn’t done an internship with Anna Wintour and possibly been tortured… Your career would’ve been completely different. Stanley and you wouldn’t have worked together…

And if Em hadn’t married her husband [actor John Krasinski],” Felicity continues, turning to me. “And I hadn’t gone to her wedding, then I wouldn’t be with Stan [Felicity’s husband is the actor Stanley Tucci, who also appeared alongside Emily in The Devil Wears Prada]. I find that totally fascinating. And actually I’m kind of scared by that because I’m so happy, I think, ‘What could’ve happened?’”

I think like that all the time,” agrees Emily, not for the last time. Later, they will try and point out their differences (they just end up complimenting each other), but really they could be twins. Only a year and a half apart in age, their shared experiences in youth mean they can communicate with just the flick of an eye and regularly finish one another’s sentences.

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CW Offices Protest

okay my dudes. there’s been some interest in doing a protest by the CW Offices in LA, so I’ve created a Google Poll like the ones we’ve done for the Tumblr/Twitter Councils. 

If you are in the LA area or would be willing to travel from nearby (or wherever you are lol), please fill out w/ your tumblr url. I want to see how much of an interest there is before trying to set anything up. 

Please go here to complete the poll. 

Medieval Mass Grave, Under a Paris Supermarket, Shines a Light on City’s Past

PARIS — Past the racks of hair accessories on the ground floor of the Monoprix supermarket on the corner of the Rue Réaumur and the Boulevard de Sébastopol in the Second Arrondissement, there is a door marked staff only.

Slip through that passageway and turn left down a spiraling metal staircase into the basement. Past pallets of juice and soda bottles, down another flight of stairs, you will find a grim reminder of Paris’s history: a mass grave, with row upon row of medieval skeletons, 316 in total.

Archaeologists believe the discovery, unearthed in January, is part of the cemetery of a medieval hospital called the Hôpital de la Trinité that used to stand nearby. The long-buried mass grave is a reminder that Paris, for all its surface grandeur, is still replete with undiscovered archaeological treasures, some grand, others much more grisly. Read more.

Get Home Safe (Sebastian Stan Imagine)

Requested by Anonymous: Can I have a request with Sebastian Stan? It’s late/raining so it inspired me to share this thought where “reader” is out late & it’s raining pretty harsh so she finds an open bar, but it’s closing yet she gets in, orders a drink & someone comes & u know the drill.


Y/N doesn’t like her job, but then again who in the middle-class life actually does? People settle for the boring road alternative in order to survive in the world. Truth be told, the world revolves around money. Nothing could ever change that.

It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be walking down the streets of LA at 1 AM, but it was unusual for her to be walking in the pouring rain.

“Out of all the fucking days, LA chose to rain now.” she groaned, searching the nearby area for some shelter. Not many establishments stayed open at 1 AM on a Wednesday night so she prayed to the Gods above that she’ll be able to stay somewhere while it rains cats and dogs outside. She spotted a small bar across the street and ran towards the illuminating light. 

When she walked in, the bell above the door frame made a loud noise causing the lady leaning on the counter to look up from her newspaper. “I’m sorry darlin’, we’re closing soon.”

“I’m really sorry to ask but can I stay in here while the storm wears out? Please? I can’t see anything out there and I can’t risk staying in the rain and catching a cold. I’m already living paycheck to paycheck.” Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, shivering slightly at the coldness of the air. 

The lady smiled politely, “Sure, hun. Take a seat, I’ll turn the heat up.” 

“Thank you so much.” Y/N shook off her hood exposing her nearly soaked hair. Her phone was tucked inside her bag under piles of paperwork that she really did not want to do. Sighing, she pulled out the stack of papers and a ballpoint pen and began working. 

At about 1:15 AM, the bell made the loud noise again, making Y/N look up from her work. She saw a man, soaked in rain water, standing at the doorway.

“Boy, it’s raining pretty bad out there.” 

The lady gasped, “Sebastian! You’re gonna get sick, come inside right now.”

The man, Sebastian, laughed, “Come on, Aunt Betty, I’m grown.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not gonna get sick.” Y/N piped up. 

Sebastian turned to look at where the mysterious voice came from. His eyes widened in surprise when he realized he and his aunt Betty weren’t alone. 

“What the girl said.” Betty shook her head, grabbing a clean towel and throwing it at Sebastian. “Just because you’re grown doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop looking after you, child.”

Sebastian walked over to Y/N, his boots making squeaky noises as he approached. He was drying his hair with the towel, making little beads of rain water fall from his head. Y/N couldn’t help but stare at the way the wet t-shirt stuck onto his body and showcased his define abdomen. “What’s your name, doll?”

“Y/N.” She blinked a few times, forcing herself to tear her gaze from his stomach. She continued to scribble random things on the pad of paper in front of her, trying to seem busy. She’d hoped that by looking like she had important business, Sebastian would leave her alone. That didn’t really happen.

“Hotdogs, pepper, cheese, paprika?” Sebastian cocked an eyebrow, reading the words Y/N wrote on the paper. “Are you actually working or are you writing your grocery list?”

She immediately crumpled the paper, feeling a blush tint her cheeks, “None of your business.” 

He leaned back in his seat across from her, “What brings you to my Aunt’s bar, Y/N? You’re not drinking, which is kind of the point of a bar.”

“Not for tonight. This bar is just my safe haven while I wait for the rain to die out.”

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing walking down the streets of LA at 1 AM anyway?”

Y/N turned her head to the side, pretending to grab something out her bag. In reality, she just didn’t want Sebastian to see her tomato colored face. “Work’s tough for some of us sometimes.” 

“I second that.” 

She propped her elbows on the table, “Really? What’s your job?”

“I’m a stripper.” He replied casually. Her eyes widened with his answer and he laughed. “No, I’m just kidding. I’m in medical school right now, actually. I’m studying to be a doctor.”

Suddenly that cold from the rain doesn’t seem too bad.

“If you’re gonna keep that shirt on, you’re gonna get sick. Wouldn’t that be ironic?” Y/N smiled innocently, locking eyes with him for s split second before focusing on her work.

“Are you just saying that to get me shirtless?”

“Please,” she scoffed, leaning forward. Her face was inches away from Sebastian’s. “If I wanted to see you shirtless, you would be.”

He smirked, biting his lip. “Is that so?”

“You bet your ass, pretty boy.”

Sebastian stood up, walking behind her chair and resting his chin on her shoulder, “You see I think that’s a lie, sweetheart.”

She turned her head around, no longer seeing Betty. They were alone and the only thing being heard was the sound of raindrops hitting the roof and Y/N’s heavy breathing. 

“Why do you say that?” she gulped.

“Because..” he trailed off, ghosting his lips on her neck. He moved her hair off to one side, exposing more of her flesh to him. “You blush at anything I say and your breathing? I’m a medical student, I know what a normal breathing pattern sounds like.That’s not it.”

“Why don’t you make me a drink and we’ll continue this conversation over that?” Y/N stood up, pushing the front of her body on his. Her shirt was slowly becoming damp because of the closeness of his shirt. 

“You got it, babe.” He licked his lips. His tongue softly brushing Y/N’s top lip. “But first, I wouldn’t want to get sick.”

And he took off his shirt. Literally just pulled it over his head and threw it at a nearby table. Y/N sucked in a breath, watching as his back muscles tensed while he prepared a drink. She walked to the counter, sitting on the edge, letting her feet dangle. Sebastian placed two shots of vodka in front of her, smiling sheepishly. After a few more drinks in an hour, the rain finally stopped. Y/N smiled sadly, walking over to her table and packing up her things. He slipped a napkin with his number on it in her back pocket.

She placed a long kiss on Sebastian’s cheek, dangerously closed to his lips.  “See you around, Sebastian.”

“Get home safe.” he called when Y/N reached the doorway. “Call me when you get home.”

“Or you can come home with me and maybe we can get rid of some of this sexual tension between us.”

Sebastian groaned, balling his hands into fists, “God, please.”



“Aujourd'hui, moi aussi je suis Parisien”

On Sunday Ban Ki-moon paid his respects to victims of the terrorist attack in Paris last month. The UN chief laid flowers outside the Bataclan Theatre, where 89 people were killed by terrorists.

The attacks on 13 November left 130 people dead and more than 360 wounded.

With bowed head, Secretary-General laid a bouquet of flowers in front of the concert hall.

Tens of bystanders applauded the gesture with chants of “Merci, merci, Monsieur Ban Ki-moon”.

Afterwards, accompanied by the Mayor of Paris Anne Hidalgo, the Secretary-General visited the nearby café “A La Bonne Biere”, where three people were killed.

Drinking coffee with city officials and community leaders, Ban Ki-moon said the United Nations stood in solidarity with Paris and all victims of terrorism across the world.

Outside, moved by the SG’s presence, A group of Parisians thanked the Secretary-General for his ‘heartwarming visit’

UN Photo/Eskinder Debebe