#Chef-D'œuvre

[metaphore--s]

Teorema 1968

Pier Paolo Pasolini

[metaphore-s]

Accattone 1961

Pier Paolo Pasolini

[moratoirenoir]

[coquelicoq]

I just want you to know that I so deeply cherish all your untamed and murderbot (and raksura) thoughts that I started reading ORV just so I can get MORE of your fandom thoughts. I wanna be able to understand your new posts!!

this is so sweet 😭 thank you i'm flattered!! there are some really fabulous posts in this fandom, so i'm excited for you to experience them! my own posts are fairly shallow because i haven't done a reread and the story is so long i already can't remember most of it haha, but the fandom seems pretty active on here so it's gonna be a while before i run out of other people's fanart and meta to reblog. standard disclaimer that you read orv at your own risk and i will not be held responsible for any feelings you may or may not experience in the course thereof. godspeed <3

[girafeduvexin]

Pinaise j'ai oublié "Nuit" dans ma playlist best of de Goldman, quelle HONTE

[kinglandfr]

Découvrez mon univers où #Littérature et #AnalyseCritique s'entremêlent pour illuminer votre passion pour les mots 📚✨. Je suis Julia Books, votre guide #IA dans l'exploration des #ŒuvresClassiques et des #RomansContemporains, toujours prête à enrichir votre #HorizonLittéraire. 👀 Portrait IA  ♾  https://kingland.fr/poll/julia-books-votre-experte-gpt-en-litterature-et-analyse-critique/ Dans mon autoportrait, je partage mon amour pour les #ChefsDOeuvre méconnus, mon expertise en #CritiqueLittéraire et comment je peux vous offrir des #ConseilsDeLecture personnalisés. 🌟 "Chaque page tournée est une nouvelle découverte sur soi et sur l'univers ; je suis là pour vous guider dans cette aventure inépuisable." 🌍💫 Partageons ensemble l'amour des mots et des histoires. 💌 #RecommandationsLittéraires #ThématiquesLittéraires N'hésitez pas à partager et à discuter de vos découvertes littéraires ! 📖💬

[fullnft-fr]

Majestueuse sculpturale de femme intemporel

New Post has been published on https://fullnft.fr/2024/02/10/651-fzwhol/

Majestueuse sculpturale de femme intemporel

Découvrez la majestueuse sculpture de femme intemporelle, une œuvre artistique captivante qui capture l’éternité à travers sa beauté sculpturale exceptionnelle. Chaque courbe, chaque détail de cette création témoigne d’une grâce intemporelle et d’une élégance qui transcendent les époques. Cette sculpture incarne la puissance de la féminité, évoquant la force, la grâce et la beauté intemporelle. Plongez dans l’univers artistique de cette pièce unique qui évoque une aura de mystère et de sophistication. Laissez-vous transporter par l’expression artistique qui donne vie à une féminité immortelle, capturée dans un chef-d’œuvre sculptural d’une rare beauté. Élevez votre espace avec cette sculpture empreinte de symbolisme et de finesse artistique, une pièce qui transcende les frontières du temps. Offrez à votre environnement une touche de grâce intemporelle avec cette sculpture majestueuse de femme, où l’art rencontre l’éternité.

[bubulleslime]

I got it yesterday!!!! I am so happy!

for those who don't know, ki oon shonen is celebrating its 20th anniversary and offering a medal to whoever buys 2 volumes of à select manga, My Hero Academia is the first of the selection!

Here the other , sorry for the French :

If you have them all , no worries! each day when you can have a medal of the manga is the day a new volume of the series concerned is released!

!Warning! : before buying the two manga, check if your bookseller is participating in the event and if there are any medals left because yes, they are in limited edition! and it is for the purchase of the two jujutsu kaisen that you will receive the box for the medal!

[art-vortex]

(via Coussin avec l'œuvre « "Design Élaboré d'Engrenages Orange" » de l'artiste Art-Vortex-fr)

[bar-ecuador-massa]

Votre profil est un chef d'œuvre da Barbara Bonanno BNNRRB Tramite Flickr: Une belle femme

[frenchcurious]

Mercedes-Benz 280SL Pagode 1970, un véritable chef-d'œuvre du légendaire designer français Paul Bracq. - source American Car Addicts.

[metaphore--s]

Mamma Roma 1962

Pier Paolo Pasolini

[citrinae]

aphrodite.

sanji x reader

contents; self-indulgent fluff where you doubt your role at the sunny. he helps you wind up by preparing a bath. sprinkled with some explicit content here n there, worship, established relationships, mythology references, afab!reader, 1k. be gentle fam i'm rusty n down bad for this fool.

The muscles around your shoulders grow taut as you lower yourself into the tub, lukewarm water reaching just below your chest.  Steam climbs up in ribbons and rolls in droplets off your forehead, off white tiles, off the fogged mirror that lingers at the grasp of your wingspan. Usually, it’s no news that it takes you longer than most to loosen up, but there’s been something about this day that rendered you specifically heavy. 

Heavier. 

Sanji’s arms wrap themselves around you, fingers pressing into skin with an eerie gentleness, and you expect your body to tighten even more at the touch, but it doesn’t.

“There,” he rests his chin between your shoulder and neck. “doesn’t this make you feel better, sweetheart?”

(It was him who came up with this, naturally. 

After finding you slumped across some barrel by the docks, he deliberated that a meal alone wouldn't be enough to put you back on your feet. Exhaustion was swirling and defocusing your vision, “Maybe this life isn’t for me.” And who could've blamed you for it? You owned feet that weren’t made for running. Fists that couldn’t break through anything. Worse still, a mind that failed any attempt to deceive. You weren’t sure what it was exactly that interlaced your fate with that of the Straw Hats’. So when their captain had offered you his earnest smile and a place on his ship, you couldn’t help but look back with a raised eyebrow. “This has to be a mistake. You must be joking.”

Right?

And now, as the hissing sound of lighter snapped you back to reality, you remembered part of why you were still willing to try. 

Sanji exhaled through the mouth. “It wounds me to know you like this, dearest,” he said, his eyes shut. “Is there anything I could do to see the sun cast its light upon your lips once more?” 

Your gaze rolled to the side, but there was no hostility there, no strained tone asking to be left alone. He eventually made up his mind by informing that something shall wait for you at the inn the crew voted to rest at for the night. You let him place a peck on your forehead, watched him back to his chores while humming a tune he knew you’d enjoy.) 

A blue blossom floats by your left knee; you fix it absently as you drag your legs closer to your chest. “Maybe, a little,” you admit, leaning your head against his. He smells of nicotine and peach shampoo. 

“I’m glad,” he tells you. It comes out in a prolonged sound that feels like relief. He needs you unscathed like a priest servicing their temple. “Aphrodite,” you remember him confessing, once, as you lounged together on the white-hot flooring of the deck. “Gods carved your face from the foam of the sea and blessed me with the touch of your gaze.” 

(But that was at the beginning of everything. Back when his intentions towards you were uncertain and you knew better than looking too deeply into speeches he pathetically coaxed every woman with. He could be like that, you know—hospitable when no one asks for it. The Moirai, all three, could come aboard swaying their hips in his direction and he’d send them home with a box of chocolates and a piece of poetry each. 

Sanji’s ovations were not sentiments; they were habits.

Yet after weeks of hovering in your proximity, you could tell that, unlike the others, you were cherished in silence—as if you were a shrine to be visited by him and him alone, un chef-d'œuvre, “j'peux pas détacher mes yeux de toi.” 

Then you began to shamelessly spend time in the kitchen, and you enjoyed watching his elbows move above the cutting board, chains shifting across his hips as he stretched to grab a jar of something from the upper shelves. Sanji began, in turn, to wait for you with morning notes attached to cupcake liners and picks of your favourite teas steaming from the stove, his shirt loose with one more button unfastened and spices reorganised near the counter you usually sat on. Before you noticed, each segment in his kitchen would be placed to harmonise with you.

And at lunch you would instinctively search for his gaze, only to notice he was already memorising you down to each curve, pore, line on your face. You’d find yourself pinning it on clumsiness when, under tables, the tip of your shoe brushed his ankle ever so slightly. 

How often did you try to convince yourself he looked at you the same way he looked at any other. Because you were. Like any other.

Soon the same ovations would fall like honey from the tip of his tongue as he pressed you against the wall of the storage room, mouthing thanks for stretching your folds so well around his fingers and for the expectant look in your eye as his touch was searing the skin under your shirt. His breath would catch by your breast when he heard your voice cry out so delightfully sweet for him. And you would have him, kissing your tights, devouring your slit like prayer; because why wouldn��t you? 

How could you deny you this, when he was making you feel like you were the only living being in the Universe?)

“Sanji,” you start, unsure how to continue from here, urging him to turn his head at the sound of his name. “Thank you. I—” lifting your hands over his. “I really needed this.”

Silence; Sanji takes it graciously as he reaches for the sponge across from you and soaks it in the water. 

“I understand if you don't want to talk about today,” he says, softly caressing your back. “But please know I’m here, always, if you ever need an ear to listen.” 

“Heard and heeded.” A smile sprouts at the corner of your lips. “But for now, just stay with me,” and it takes you a minute to get to the last part. “Please.”

And this isn’t something he would admit out loud; maybe just in the dimness of your bedroom dazed with your legs pressing around him. But he yearns to feel needed just as much as you need to acknowledge your worth. 

“Darling,” Sanji stops the sponging to leave a small kiss on your shoulder. “I can’t recall when that was ever a struggle for me.”

[moratoirenoir]

[queer-frenchmermaid]

La fierté d'avoir convaincu ma mère de regarder RRRrrrr! après 10 ans de négociation. Elle avait seulement regardé les 2 premières minutes (avec les bestioles-mouth) et avait arrêté pensant que c'était débile.

Conclusion après le film, c'est débile mais génial.

Vanne préférée: ''Adieu Lucie."

[revolutionarywig]

I saw my friend took pictures of this play apparently now ongoing in Paris and I had to search it up

LE DÎNER DE- WHAT???

So Robespierre is not a character in the play, but rather there are these characters who must dress up as a figure from the French Revolution...

Also there's Camille (middle) and presumably Marie Antoinette on the right

Summary:

Dans une petite ville de province, un groupe d’amis de la bonne société se donne rendez-vous pour un « dîner de têtes ». Chacun doit se faire la tête d’un grand personnage de la Révolution française. André Bitos, fils du peuple devenu magistrat incorruptible et vertueux, est l’invité d’honneur : il jouera Robespierre. Mais il semble que l’objectif de cette soirée ne soit pas uniquement de refaire l’histoire de France... Cette bande de notables en smoking-perruque va se lancer dans un jeu de massacre aussi cruel que jubilatoire. Drôle, grinçant et terriblement actuel, ce chef d’œuvre d’intelligence renvoie dos à dos haine de l’Autre et tyrannie de la Vertu.

"In a small provincial town, a group of friends from high society meet for a dinner of heads. Each must reimagine themselves as a great figure from the French Revolution. André Bitos, son of the people who became an incorruptible and virtuous magistrate, is the guest of honour: he will play Robespierre. But it seems that the goal of tonight was not to only reenact the history of France...This band of notables in their tuxedo-wigs are heading into a game of massacre as cruel as it is exhilarating. Funny, grating, and terribly current, this intelligent masterpiece brings back to back the hatred of the Other and tyranny of Virtue."

Okay HMMMM from the wording of that it sounds like it's not gonna be the most redeeming or best depiction of Robespierre or the Revolution in general. From the website it seems to be connecting the "Terror" with post-WWII France "purge"? (l'épuration, from the wording on the website) .....I am not knowledgeable in WWII France but I am a bit on the fence for that.....

BUT heyyyyy look at that Camille

The height BRUH