princepandamaxprincetonmn97-blog

[neyantkomskaikru]

Did we ever get a full explanation for this scene? Like, did Lexa know the extenuating circumstances of Clarke taking the flame? Or did she assume that Clarke took over being leader and was just like “Yas, das muh gurl”? She’s so happy to see Clarke, and so proud of her too. Even if she doesn’t quite understand the full situation, she’s telling Clarke that she chose her. That even with all her beloved novitiates, that she chose Clarke (even though we know that’s not really how that works). Just fuck me three ways to Thursday because I can’t handle this anymore 😩

JRat made the biggest mistake of his life by killing off Lexa. He deserves all the vitriol he gets thrown.

[acidlake]

“Dears, I've heard you've gotten yourself into a bit of trouble. Meet me under the Azaleas and we'll see what we can do.” - CH

Claret Holiday, a southern comfort, and the impending turf war, done for the Friends at the Table City of Light fanzine back in 2016.

[mangadore]

[vixvaporub]

City of Light | Hikari no Machi by Inio Asano – Chapter 8: Rebirthday Song

[tomhardymyking]

Yesterday the 𝑶𝒍𝒚𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒄 𝑮𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 ended (congratulations to the winners, by the way 👏🏻) and I realised late that they call Paris the “City of Light”, the same as the name of the studios (in Spanish) where 𝗧𝗼𝗺 and the team came to film part of 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 in Alicante (here in Spain and which I hope to go see in the coming weeks and make a post-report), and I was like 🥺💓

This scene was one of those filmed here 💖

⠀⠀⠀⠀

Ayer acabaron los 𝑱𝒖𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒔 𝑶𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒐𝒔 (felicidades a los ganadores, por cierto 👏🏻) y me di cuenta tarde de que a París la llaman la “Ciudad de la Luz”, igual que como se llaman los estudios (en español) donde vinieron 𝗧𝗼𝗺 y el equipo a rodar parte de 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒎: 𝑬𝒍 𝑼𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒐 𝑩𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒆 en Alicante (aquí en España y al cual espero ir a ver en las próximas semanas y hacer una publicación-reportaje), y estaba como 🥺💓

Esta escena fue una de las rodadas aquí 💖

⠀⠀

[gayforoctaviablake]

Not gonna lie, I'd take the chip to the city of light in a fkin heartbeat.

"how's your arthritis"

Gone bitch

"hey how do you feel about (insert person who led me on for 3 YEARS)"

Blissfully, WHO?

[razorsadness]

Back at Union Station, I looked at the Amtrak departures board, just so I knew exactly what gate my train would be departing from. But of course I saw all the rest of that night’s departures, and had that desire I always have in a train station—that desire to hop on a different train than the one I’m supposed to board, to go somewhere else. I noticed that the City of New Orleans was set to depart from a different track at the same time the Hiawatha Line would be taking me back to Wisconsin, and that was the one I most wished I could ride.

Of course I couldn’t, so I went to get a beer at the railroad station bar—a God Damn Pigeon Porter from Spiteful Brewing. I watched all the conductors & the porters (& I’m all outta quarters…) & the people—Japanese tourists & high school kids & Amish families & punk rockers—walk by. I got out my notebook & wrote, wrote a tanka, wrote notes about my day, drank my beer. The bar was playing all these ‘90s sadboy songs, and I suppose it was inevitable that I got a bit melancholy. About to leave the city of my heart, and who knew when I’d be back again; had seen some old friends and old flames oh, so briefly, and who knew when I’d see them again; and all the sad, nostalgic songs. Emotional masochist that I am, I pulled out one of the zines I’d picked up at MWPZF—Red’s grief zine. Reading the raw explorations of loss, and some of them about Jack Terricloth—well, I began to cry.

Then I heard someone say: “Hey, sister, you alright?” I looked around, not sure who was speaking or if they were talking to me, and also, not again, sister? Oh shit, they were talking to me—but it wasn’t a fascist-looking religious freak, it was a gorgeous hippie woman. I’d noticed her & her traveling companions when I first sat down at the bar, because they were the most interesting characters there. One of her companions noticed my hesitancy in responding, must have clocked my genderqueerness, said: “Or…brother? Sister or brother, it’s all good.” It wasn’t like getting ma’am-sirred, it was instead this affirmation that I could be both sister and brother and it was cool. I wiped my eyes and smiled. “Come sit with us,” the woman said, “if you want to.” So I did.

I don’t always like hippies, but these cats seemed cool. First of all, they obviously weren’t the type of hippies that are strangely hung up on regressive gender roles. Secondly, they were authentic weirdos. The woman, S., had on a very Janis Joplin-esque dress and long vest, yards of beads, tall boots, a knit cap from which her dark hair spilled out. One of the guys, D., the one who’d called me brother, was wearing a black hat and a black leather jacket with fringe hanging from the sleeves, and had an old camera around his neck. The other guy, F., had a scruffy reddish beard and a long thin braid running down his back and was wearing a sailor’s cap. The way they interacted with each other, the way they touched one another, I got the feeling they were some kind of polycule, though I couldn’t figure out in what permutation and anyway, it was none of my business.

We all just started talking, in that way where you can be more open with people whom you’ve only just met and will most likely never see again than you can be with even your closest friends. (Well, mostly S. and D. and I talked; F. was more of a listener.) I told them a bit about why I’d been crying, S. told me about a friend of theirs who’d recently died. We talked loss and grief. D. asked if he could take my picture; said he always took pictures of the people he met on his travels. I said yes, of course, and smiled sadly; sadly smiling in the railroad station barlight, I don’t know if there could be a more perfect situation for a portrait of me. I noticed that his camera was a Miranda Sensomat, just like the one I used to have during my wannabe-photographer days. We talked photography for a bit. They asked if I wanted to go outside and get high with them; I said I’d go but declined the weed, as I knew it would just make me anxious at that point. So we all gathered up our luggage and hauled it outside, sat by the river in the deepening dusk. They got stoned & I smoked a cigarette. I talked about how sad I was to be leaving Chicago, S. said: “I know what you mean, it’s one of my favorite cities, too.” S. asked where I was headed, I said: “Oh, just Wisconsin.” They were about to board the City of New Orleans. I started humming the Arlo Guthrie song, because I’m incapable of not thinking of that song when I think of that train. F. got his guitar out of its case and started playing along, and S. sang, her voice deep and warm: Riding on the City of New Orleans, Illinois Central, Monday morning rail. D. and I joined in, soon all of us were singing: Good mornin’ America, how are ya? Don’t ya know me? I’m your native son. When that song ended, S. went into another: Busted flat in Baton Rouge, waitin’ for a train… And I joined in, because how could I not? Freedom’s just another word for nothin’ left to lose.

After our jamboree, we parted ways. I went to rustle up some grub, ended up with the driest, blandest sandwich ever. Sat in the food court, listened to everyone around me chattering, bits of conversations overlapping and interrupted by the pre-recorded voiceover. “Now boarding, Track 7, Now boarding, Track 8.” Now I’m waitin for the train to take me home / I’m tired and it’s gettin pretty late / I’m sittin here on a wooden bench / They’re boardin track seven, track eight. I went outside for one last cigarette, one last look at the river, all the lights coming on in the buildings along the river, lights shining on the river. Chicago, city of light. A homeless man walked over to me, asked if I could spare a smoke. I had one left in the pack, aside from the one I was smoking, and I gave it to him, lit it for him. “That’ll do,” he nodded, smiled. “That’ll do.” He sat down near me and started telling me a bit about his life, how he was once a blues musician—making the second time in my life when I befriended a homeless Chicagoan who was once a blues musician—and I’m a friend to the friendless, not that I chose it. If I had, well then, who knows? Then back inside for one more quick beer before I had to board the train; Goose Island’s 312, this time.

[from a journal entry, October 30, 2022]

[sheltiechicago]

Paris Catacombs

Paris, France

For a darker experience in the City of Light, venture beneath Paris and explore its hundreds of miles of catacombs. During the 18th century, the catacombs were used in response to a public health crisis that resulted in more than 6 million Parisians needing to be buried in an easily accessible site. 

The Catacombs are built in the underground quarries of Paris. 

Photo by Heracles Kritikos

[estin-liew]

[dragaliareferencearchive]

Model references for City of Light / Once More, Together (Kohane Azusawa) - Project Sekai: Colorful Stage!

[jonathanblossom]

I like the city lights Every light is someone's world lit in the concrete land🌃

Rafael Carvalho

[behometonight]

City of Light, Evelyn de Morgan

[mangadore]

[vixvaporub]

City of Light | Hikari no Machi by Inio Asano – Prologue: Birthday Song

[ladyanthropologie]

June 26th, 2023

Today was a great first day in Paris! After a restful night's sleep, I woke up re-energized and ready to go!

First, we went to Père Lachaise Cemetery and visited many famous people like Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, Proust, and more! It was very peaceful and serene. Père Lachaise Cemetery is the most famous and visited necropolis in all of Paris and many people would like to be buried there. A family has to pay to keep their loved one's tombstone up or else it will be removed - there are some that will never be removed, they have a special symbol on their graves to let people know that they are not moving! You can, however, have your ashes spread in the cemetery.

Afterwards, we got sandwiches and pastries from a little boulangerie and ate in a nearby park. The food was delicious! Then it was on to the Louvre!

The Louvre was splendid! Absolutely marvelous!! The Louvre is completely interconnected but is split into 3 different sections and they each have their own entrance to make it easier for people. The Louvre also has the main entrance from the pyramids, an entrance from the underground mall and metro station and at least one entrance from the back (which, go to that one! It was completely empty and had no line!) Our professor took us to the main sites - La Joconde (The Mona Lisa), Le Radeau de la Méduse (The Raft of the Medusa), La Liberté guidant le peuple (Liberty Leading the People), and more! Our professor told us of some other noteworthy art and artifacts and said that even if you spent 30 seconds in front of each piece in the Louvre, it would still take you like a year to see everything! It's that big and holds that much!! A friend and I proceeded to close the Louvre (we stayed in there for like 5 hours!), our professor was impressed - no one did that before.

My friend and I proceeded to grab a quick bite for dinner, and we ate in the Louvre Gardens - a beautiful spot of greenery in Paris. Afterwards, we went back to the hotel to rest up before heading back out to see la tour Eiffel! We met up with some of our classmates and sat in front of the Eiffel Tower as the sun set and watched it light up! We even saw the Eiffel Tower do it's little light show, it was fantastic! Beautiful! Marvelous!

It was a great first day!

[cryptocollectibles]

Batman City of Light #1 (December 2003) by DC Comics

Written by Pander Brothers and Mark Paniccia, drawn by Pander Brothers and Alvaro Lopez.