#DuLac AU

[achirding]

DuLac AU!

The AU where little twins Percival and Lamorak adopt their new playmate Galahad as a brother, and Galahad’s dad Lancelot as their Dad! 

- Percival, Lamorak, and Galahad are all essentially the same age! 

- Percival and Lamorak are twins! Aside from the fur color, the other big significant different between them is that Lamorak has a beak and Percival has ears.

- Percival and Lamorak’s father is Sir Pellinore the Gryphon. He is tasked with catching the elusive Questing Beast, so he is hardly ever at Camelot Castle. So Lamorak and Percival were being essentially raised by nannies and tutors, until they became too big and wild to control so they just kinda... run around.

- Percival has fire powers, and Lamorak has wind powers- which they can’t really control very well, but used to exploit to the fullest. Lancelot is helping them train to control their powers. Galahad has psychic powers, too, so he is uniquely well-equipped to deal with powerful kids.

- Lancelot also hates being cooped up in the castle and goes on adventures frequently- he just brings his kids along with him. No better teacher than experience, and they know to get out of his way.

- This Lancelot leans more on the feral, Shadow side of characterization- he’s impulsive, gruff, seems incredibly annoyed and done with his kid’s antics....  but he does genuinely love them and care for them very much. He’s fiercely protective of them, a very “yeah, they’re annoying brats but they’re *my* brats” attitude.

- All the kids want their Daddy’s eyeshadow, so every morning, he has to put some red paint around their eyes so they’ll leave him alone. (If he doesn’t they’ll do it themselves with whatever red thing they find in the castle.)

[edsmusicblog]

Jacqueline Dulac - 45 trs stéréo Quaggi Sonopresse 45218 (1973)

[oldfilmsflicker]

new-to-me #883 - L’invitation au Voyage 

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Epilogue - Peace Ever After

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: None… the fluffiest fluff that ever fluffed. Also, our pair have some news for the world.

Word Count: 0.7k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl . Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the neat little bow I wanted to wrap this fic up with. I hope you have enjoyed this story; it's been a pleasure to write. Thank you for reading, and many thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Wiltshire, UK, 8th May 1945

Benedict’s arm is curled securely around your back as you dance together, Vera Lynn warbling from the wireless in the corner of your living room.

There'll be bluebirds over, The white cliffs of Dover, Tomorrow, just you wait and see…

His breath is warm on your hairline as you sway gently. A spontaneous, uplifting and tender moment to celebrate the end of the war. A lightness in your heart that this dreadful era is finally over and the overwhelming gratitude that all your loved ones have survived. This dance is also a peaceful, romantic interlude from the whirlwind your lives have become in the last few weeks. 

There'll be love and laughter, And peace ever after, Tomorrow…

The shrill ring of the telephone echoing from the hallway of your cottage interrupts your reverie.

“Ignore it,” Benedict whispers in your ear.

“But we just had it installed! It’s only our third call. How exciting!” You lean back and shoot him your best pleading face, and he sighs and, with an affectionate eye roll, gestures for you to go answer it.

You rush over and pick up the heavy bakelite receiver, a crackle on the line that is an operator.

“Overseas call for the Bridgertons from Madam DuLac,” the operator announces primly.

“Oh wonderful, yes, please put her through!” you enthuse.

“Salut y/n!” comes that familiar voice from the past after a short delay.

“Solene! It’s so wonderful to hear from you! How are you? How’s Paris?”

Benedict walks over at the mention of her name, hovering nearby to partially eavesdrop.

“I am wonderful. Paris is finally free and as beautiful as ever. On this monumental day, I wanted to check on the lovebirds who didn’t invite me to their wedding,” she jibes good-naturedly.

You can’t help but giggle. “We are very well, and yet again, sorry.” 

“Tu connais, there is one way you can remedy this,” she singsongs.

“Name it.”

“Your daughter shall be Solene oui? At least a middle name.”

You laugh heartily, then shoot Benedict a sultry look that makes his brow crease, intrigued.

“Why don’t you nag my husband about that?” you challenge lightly as he draws nearer.

He crowds into your back and takes the receiver from your hand, tilting it between you so you can both hear.

“What is my darling wife roping me into now?” he inquires dryly.

“Giving her a daughter that must be named Solene…” your ex-landlady chimes cheekily.

“Is she now?” his voice drops to a throatier register that immediately has you flustered. “And what is wrong with the son I just gave her?” he queries casually as he raises a flirtatious eyebrow at you.

“Vous avez un bebe?!?” Solene gasps. “Felicitations!!” 

“Oui!” You grin happily as Benedict's lips ghost over your temple lovingly. “We were about to send out telegrams with the news. Louis Jerome Bridgerton,” you pronounce proudly. “He is three weeks old, and he is our whole world…” your sigh so contented as you lean into your husband's attention.

“You named him after my brother-in-law?” Solene protests with mock indignance. “Then I definitely get the middle name for the girl!” 

“It was after the man who married us,” Benedict points out laconically before conceding, “who, yes, coincidentally is also your brother in law…” 

“And I shall expect a visit when petit Louis is a little older to see the wonders of Paris,” she hints unsubtly.

“Of course! His first trip will be to the Louvre,” your husband pronounces. “It was the very first place his parents went on a date, after all,” he adds, shooting you that trademark lopsided grin.

You elbow him mildly. “That was not a date!”

“It was for me, mon amour….” he side-eyes you heatedly. It makes you want to drag him upstairs and start on those daughter plans immediately.

“I should go and make my next call… to your sister and Phillip indeed; I just wanted to wish you a very happy Victory Day!” Solene interrupts your amorous moment.

“Et toi aussi,” you both answer in unison.

“Vive la France! Vive L’Angleterre! We won mes amis! Le monde est libre!”

You and Benedict’s eyes meet, a poignant moment, as the call disconnects.

“The world is free indeed,” he echoes softly, putting down the phone and sweeping you into his arms for a stirring kiss.

FIN

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[tututfdp]

Modern AU Kaamelott

(j'ai lut La petite hétéro by TheHappyEgg et ça ma rongé le cerveau donc voila mon AU foireux sur les perso de Kaamelott étudiant).

Arthur Pendragon

 " il sent la monster et la clops dès huit heure trente, baptiser “l’accumulateur compulsif”, j’ai nommer; Arthur Pendragon! "

Je vois Arthur étudiant en histoire de l'art avec options Archéologie, ses subjects préféré: Rome Antique/Grèce Antique - Moyen-Age. Il a redoublé sa L2.

Il a EVIDEMENT fait un Erasmus à Rome.

Il est aussi au conservatoire, musique classique ou modern.

Certainement président d'une association étudiante qu'il a repris ou créer ( Surement un truc du genre "La table ronde" pour que tous vos droit soit respecté)

Grinder/Tinder: Peux importe l'appli', il est dessus.

Surement boursier, doit certainement bossé à la BU ou à un U.

Vous pouvez pas m'enlevé qu'il écoute SUREMENT, du Kyo, il en a honte mais il a tous les albums et les a vue en concert.

Il conduit surement une monospace acheté sur le boncoin pour pouvoir trimbalé toute l'équipe.

A un décapsuleur/couteau suisse baptisé Escalibur.

Depression, burnout, anxiété, manque affectif, le con a un cocktail.

Bonus: Bisexuel voir Pansexuel ? Certainement polyamoureux.

Lancelot Du Lac

" Élus mister Université trois années de suite! le fière le fringant, Lancelot Dulac! "

Troisième années de droit, surement de droite qu'il dit "modéré".

Il est obviously, le secrétaire de l'asso' d'Arthur, ils l'ont créer ensemble à l'époque.

Un conte tinder qu'il assume pas, avec une description genre " Capitaine de l'équipe de badminton, j'aime les balade sur la plages, recherche relation sérieuse".

Je sais pas Lancelot c'est le connard qui conduit une mini, ou une voiture deux places...

Si il fait pas aussi partit du BDE/ est le chouchou des profs c'est pas normal.

Il fait de la poésie en cachette.

Je dirais BPD, ou problème de gestion de la colère, problème obsessionnelle, OCD meme ?

Bonus: Hétéro qui pourrait avoir une seul relation gay dans sa vie, genre pour être sur qu'il est bien hétéro.

Perceval De Galle

"Revoyant à peine la lumière du jour, sortit l’année dernière d’une prépa Math-Physique, je vous présente,  Perceval De Gales! "

Je peux pas être objectif c'est mon chouchou.

Premier année en école d'ingénieur.

C'est se genre de gars mauvais au collège/lycée mais qui est inaltérable à la fac.

Il a fait un bac pro Mécanique Auto pour bossé dans le garage de ses vieux, mais son prof de math la poussé à tenter une prépa.

Ce con a fait une prépa Math-Physique et il c'est jamais autant fait chier de ça vie car tous était trop facile.

Dyslexique, j'ai raison c'est tout.

Membre du club d’astronomie et de l’association de la table ronde en temps que fouteur de merde première catégorie.

Octogone sans règles des que quelqu'un parle de la théorie de la terre plate.

Le connard que Arthur va voir quand son monospace lâche.

La définition d'un "con intelligent"

C'est le con qui à donné "Escalibur" à Arthur.

Bonus: Celui la est technique: "Le genre qui sort avec une personne pour son âme et rien d'autre" Il s'en fout, beau moche, trans, cis, nonbinaire tous ca, si l'amour est là, il est là, sinon demi-sexuel.

Karadoc de Vanne

" Un petit creux ? Une baisse de sucre ? Besoin de savoir quel est le meilleur kebab rapport qualité pétage de bide? Alors il vous faut : Karado de Vanne!"

A rencontrait Perceval durant les années lycées.

Je le vois pas étudiant ? Ou peut etre un truc genre STAPS, mais plus pour la blague.

Lui il a fait un CAP cuisine.

Deuxième fouteurs de merde de première catégorie dans l'assos, mais il serre aussi de traiteur quand ils font une soirée.

Il conduit un kangoo, un véhicule de chantier qu'il prend à ses vieux.

C'est le type qui a réussis à couper une tranche de saucisson avec sa carte étudiantes

A une note google map avec tous les meilleurs restorant, bar, fastfood et kebab de la ville classé part ordre de qualité/prix.

Il connait toutes les petites boulangerie et fromageries de la ville.

A surement gardait sa carte METRO de son anciens job d'été.

Connait beaucoup trop de monde dans l'industrie agro-alimentaire.

Personne ne sait comment il a eu une copine.

Bonus: Hétéro part défaut, pas de questionnement rien, c'est les réglage d'usine.

Bah c'est déjà pas mal dis donc, si vous en voulez plus hésité pas à me demandé, j'ai encore Merlin, Bohort et Elias dans un coin.

[the-biscuit-agreement]

Another Jessica lives AU, this time where Lockwood runs away after Jessica almost dies from ghost touch. Jessica has no idea where her brother is and can't find him so is forced to assume he is likely dead. She sets up her own agency and ends up hiring George and Lucy. George becomes like a little brother to Jessica and George views her as the sort of older sister who accepts him wholeheartedly. But while Jessica and Lucy are trying to get the Confessions of Mary Dulac, Jessica sees the Golden Blade and his apprentice who she becomes convinced is her missing brother, causing her to push away Lucy and especially George in her desperation to find out if the young man working for the Golden Blade might be the missing Anthony Lockwood.

[skyward-floored]

You were trying to come up with a vibe for the Lost AU... How about looking at some fairytale/book illustrations and see if that would fit?

Here are some illustrators and pictures you can search in Google Images:

John Bauer (The Princess in the Forest, Horse, Horseback, Someone Else Cries, Golden Key, Dark Lake, Elk, Sagovarld, etc.)

Warwick Goble (Fairy Appearing, Deer, Frog Prince, The Meeting in the Wood, Nennillo And Nennella, Cinderella, Iron Stove, Sankchinni, etc.)

Edmund Dulac (To Helen, Garden of Paradise, Horses, Eldorado, Wind's Tale, Snow Queen Moose, etc.)

Anne Anderson (Fair Emily Illustrations, swan princes, etc.)

Inga Moore

(It's fine if you don't end up going with this, but I thought I'd share the idea!)

Ooh thank you! I’ll save these to look through when I have some time, that’s a great idea!

[anniekoh]

Seeking Justice in an Energy Sacrifice Zone: Standing on Vanishing Land in Coastal Louisiana

Julie K. Maldonado (2018)

Seeking Justice in an Energy Sacrifice Zone is an ethnography of the lived experience of rapid environmental change in coastal Louisiana, USA. Writing from a political ecology perspective, Maldonado explores the effects of changes to localized climate and ecology on the Isle de Jean Charles, Grand Caillou/Dulac, and Pointe-au-Chien Indian Tribes. Focusing in particular on wide-ranging displacement effects, she argues that changes to climate and ecology should not be viewed in isolation as only physical processes but as part of wider socio-political and historical contexts.

Wastelanding: Legacies of Uranium Mining in Navajo Country

Traci Brynne Voyles (2015)

What is “wasteland,” and who gets to decide? In Wastelanding Traci Brynne Voyles tells the history of the uranium industry on Navajo land in the U.S. Southwest, asks why certain landscapes and the peoples who inhabit them come to be targeted for disproportionate exposure to environmental harm, and argues that the presence of uranium mining on Diné (Navajo) land constitutes a clear case of environmental racism.

[rehkitz]

Edmund Dulac - Au royaume de la perle 1919

[lepreuxchevalier]

An illustration of a boyar cavalryman of "Rod Vojvodin Bol'shogo" or "House Vojvodin of Bolshoi" unhorsing a "legitimate issue" or "a dynastic scion" of "Maison Williamson du Royaume d'Aquitaine" or "House Williamson of The Kingdom of Aquitaine." This illustration officially commemorates Rod Vojvodin Bol'shogo's hard-earned military triumph against Maison Williamson du Royaume d'Aquitaine and it's feudal vassals during "The Second Rus'kayan Errantry War" officially preached and prosecuted against at "La Vallée de Morçeaux" in "Le Duché de Dulac" by Louis-Chrétien Carignan-Cerqui, Archevêque de Carillon on behalf of Archpatriarch Benedin XVI, 256th Bishop of Romulus and Head of The Conservative Church of The New Gods with the intent of the systematic purging of the religious heretics officially subscribed to The Church of The Old Gods in Rus'kaya Tsarstvo in direct retaliation to Rod Vojvodin Bol'shogo's military and political connivance with the southern emirates of "Al-Khalifat Al-Khashabar" against the religiously Conservative "Rod Danielewski z Mazowsza" or "House Danielewski of Mazowsze," the longstanding "Defenders of The Faith" as personally and traditionally proclaimed by "The Archpatriarchs" or "The Bishops of Romulus" as the anointed, undisputed, and universal "Heads of The Conservative Church of The New Gods" until "Edmund IV, 41st and Reigning King of Albion and Current Head of House Lyonheart" drafted and published his written antithesis both critiquing against and questioning the general, sweeping, and universal theological reforms of "Karl Von Luxembourg, Church Doctor of Theology at Die Universität Wörtzburch" to the religious establishment of The Conservative Church of The New Gods officially seated within The Holy Sept of Romulus as the historic capital, civilizational kernel, and titular namesake of The Cosmopolitan, Classical Romulan Republic and "The Empire of Mankind Primus" before it's final collapse marking the end of The Civilized World's historic epoch of "Classical Antiquity." As well as speaking out against both his maternal grandfather "Friedrich I, Der ester und herrschend König von Middenland und Der Gründungschef von Hohenrotbart" and his older cousin "Albrecht Von Biermann, Der herrschend Markgraf von Brannenborg, Der momentan Chef von Hohenbiermann, und Der weltlich, übertragen Kurfürst Des Selbst Kaiserreich der Menschheit" in their systematic persecution, legislative marginalization, and confiscation of the lands, estates, and treasuries of any ecclesiastical and monastic clergy of The Conservative Church of The New Gods who had both openly refused to submit before and openly protested against the formal renunciation of their spiritual, cultural, and moral ties of fealty to The Bishops of Romulus through their legislative decrees to formally convert to Karl Von Luxembourg's theological reforms on behalf of both their dynastic houses and their hereditary subjects. This illustration best contrasts the civilizational friction between the opulence, the extravagance, and the decadence of "La Cour Royale de Maison Williamson du Royaume d'Aquitaine au Palais de Fontainebleau" with the rugged, resilient, and Spartan aesthetic of the princely "great houses" of "boyar" and "dvoryantsvo" aristocrats and nobles officially housed and seated within the provincial "kremlins" of the Gospodar and the Moravian petty principalities within Rus'kaya Tsarstvo.

[liveche]

Edmund Dulac, Birth of the Pearl, illustration for Paris jeweller Léonard Rosenthal’s Au Royaume de la Perle [The Kingdom of the Pearl], 1919

[achirding]

SatBK Week - Day 4: Dragon

Between dragon and hunter, the difference is quite small- in protecting their treasures, both sides give their all.

Part of the Du Lac AU!

Shortly after Lamorak and Percival become inseparable playmates with Galahad, Lancelot is called away to deal with a little dragon problem. Galahad is usually pretty obedient and well-behaved, so Lancelot is VERY UNPLEASANTLY SURPRISED when he hears screaming and crying in the dragon's lair and arrives to find his stupid, reckless children about to be ROASTED AND EATEN. He immediately jumps into action to protect them, and sustains more serious injuries than he would have if he wasn't doing double duty as a shield.

Lancelot is victorious in the end, the kids are traumatized and scared but not seriously hurt, and this marks a turning point in their relationship: Lancelot decides that since he's bled for them and has a very, large prominent scar in their defense, the Pellinore twins are his kids now, too. So he's going to get them all trained up and able to defend themselves and each other so this kind of things can never, ever happen again.

[carmenvicinanza]

Germaine Dulac

Germaine Dulac, regista e produttrice e teorica cinematografica, antesignana dell’avanguardia francese, ha giocato un ruolo fondamentale nell’evoluzione del cinema inteso come arte e come pratica sociale.

Femminista e socialista, ha sperimentato e portato avanti il suo concetto di cinema come strumento per veicolare idee e progresso.

Unica donna protagonista della scena impressionista e prima a portare la condizione femminile e la difficoltà dei rapporti di coppia sullo schermo, ha diretto più di 30 opere.

Ha propugnato una fusione tra strutture narrative del cinema di consumo e stile dell’avanguardia, tra industria e arte, formalismo e psicologismo.

Nata Charlotte Elisabeth Germaine Saisset-Schneider ad Amiens, in Francia, il 17 novembre 1882, era sposata con il romanziere Louis-Albert Dulac con cui, nel 1915 ha creato la casa di produzione Delia e di cui ha tenuto il cognome anche dopo il loro divorzio. Sua compagna di una vita è stata la regista Marie-Anne Colson-Mallevile.

Agli inizi del ‘900 ha scritto, da critica teatrale per il periodico femminista La française, di cui divenne direttrice.

Nel 1915 ha esordito al cinema con Les sœurs ennemies, i suoi primi film più conosciuti sono La cigarette (1919) e La fête espagnole (1920). Del 1921 è La belle dame sans merci, che è la storia di un adulterio dove acquistano un ruolo centrale l’ambientazione, la scenografia e gli oggetti quotidiani, attraverso un uso fugace ma ripetuto del dettaglio. La sua opera più celebrata La souriante madame Beudet del 1923, è un dramma psicologico che affronta il tema del rapporto di coppia, raccontando di una vita coniugale regolata dalla noia e dalle convenzioni borghesi.

In una società traumatizzata dalla guerra e segnata da un netto contrasto tra un discorso morale ufficiale e conservatore e le nuove libertà dei ruggenti anni ’20, riteneva che il moderno strumento del cinema potesse esprimere, meglio di qualsiasi altra arte, la “vita interiore” e la realtà sociale dei nuovi uomini e delle nuove donne.

Nei suoi film, carichi di bellezza, complessità e audacia, rendeva astratte associazioni visive ed effetti tecnici per trasmettere i suoi ideali sociali progressisti, attraverso una complessa rete di significati basati sulle suggestioni.

Dopo il 1924 si è impegnata per sviluppare nell’opinione pubblica l’interesse per la settima arte attraverso la fonazione dei cineclub. Ha fatto parte della cosiddetta seconda avanguardia, creando impasti di musica e immagini con Disque 927 (1927) o Thèmes et Variations (1928). Intraprendendo la strada di film senza narrazione, ha portato sullo schermo il soggetto surrealista di Antonin Artaud La coquille et le clergyman, del 1928.

Con l’avvento del sonoro, non potendo più realizzare i suoi progetti in piena libertà, ha rinunciato a proposte più commerciali per dedicarsi esclusivamente alla direzione di cinegiornali, i materiali migliori furono raccolti nel lungometraggio Le cinéma au service de l’Histoire del 1937.

I suoi principi ideologici sono contenuti nel saggio Le estetiche, gli ostacoli, la cinematografia integrale, pubblicato nel 1927 sulla rivista L’Art Cinématographique.

Tra i suoi scritti sono da segnalare Le cinéma d’avant-garde, in Le cinéma: des origines à nos jours, del 1932 e la raccolta di saggi Écrits sur le cinéma. 1919-1937.

È morta a Parigi il 20 luglio 1942, le sue spoglie sono nel cimitero di Père-Lachaise, a Parigi.

[kennethhujer]

DIE FREIHEIT IM FILM, DIE FREIHEIT DES KINOS

„Der Film ist eine wunderbare und gefährliche Waffe, wenn ein freier Geist ihn handhabt” – Luis Buñuel

Blickt man auf die Liste der Filmklassiker, ist das Motiv der Freiheit allgegenwärtig: In Germaine Dulacs „La souriante Madame Beudet” (1923) als eine Sehnsucht, um dem beengenden Alltagstrott der Ehe zu entkommen, in Charlie Chaplins „Modern Times” (1936) als Pendant zur repressiven Arbeitswelt oder in „Casablanca” (1942) als Grund, vor der Besatzung der deutschen Wehrmacht zu fliehen. Schon im Namen trägt sie Richard Attenboroughs Biopic „Cry Freedom” (1987), mit dem er dem Anti-Apartheids-Aktivisten Steve Biko ein filmisches Denkmal setzte. Die Science-Fiction-Trilogie „The Matrix” (1999-2003) verhandelt den Topos der Freiheit gar in seiner erkenntnistheoretischen Dimension.

DIE DYNAMIKEN DER FREIHEIT SIND ABER AUCH IN DER FILMPRODUKTION SELBST VIRULENT. IMMER WIEDER HABEN VERKRUSTETE STRUKTUREN UND BEENGENDE ERZÄHLFORMEN FREIHEITLICHE PHASEN DES AUFBRUCHS, DES EXPERIMENTS UND DADURCH NEUER PRODUKTIONSFORMEN GERADEZU PROVOZIERT. ZUMEIST HABEN SICH DIESE DANN AUCH INHALTLICH NIEDERGESCHLAGEN UND IN DEN FILMEN EINE AUF DIE GESELLSCHAFT ABZIELENDE KRITIK FORMULIERT. DARÜBER HINAUS IST DER FILM IMMER WIEDER EIN WICHTIGER KATALYSATOR POLITISCHER BEFREIUNGSBEWEGUNGEN GEWESEN.

Einer der großen cineastischen Aufbrüche ist zweifelsohne die französische Nouvelle Vague, die sich anfänglich gegen eine dem Film äußerliche Drehbuchproduktion wandte und forderte, die Filmstoffe aus den Logiken des Films selbst heraus zu entwickeln. Als ihr Begründungsfilm gilt François Truffauts Jugenddrama „Les Quatre Cents Coups” (1959), das mit seinem jugendlichen Helden, der in Widerstreit mit den ihn einschränkenden Instanzen aus Familie, Schule und Erziehungsheim gerät, gewissermaßen das Coming-of-Age-Genre vorwegnimmt und in der Schlussszene das offene Meer als Sinnbild ersehnter Freiheit inszeniert. In der Folgezeit wurden Truffauts Filme zunehmend experimenteller und brachen immer radikaler mit den Erzählkonventionen des Films. Sein Mitstreiter Jean-Luc Godard arbeitete vor allem mit neuen Schnitttechniken, Schrift-Parolen und dem Einsatz von Dokumentarmaterial und Musik gegen die Sehgewohnheiten des Kinopublikums an und überführte den Bruch mit den Konventionen auf eine gesellschaftskritische Ebene. Bereits 1960 bekam er mit seinem Film „Le petit soldat”, der die Brutalität des französischen Algerienkrieges gegen die dortige Unabhängigkeitsbewegung thematisiert, Probleme mit der französischen Zensurbehörde, die den Film erst einmal verbot.

In den USA war es das New-Hollywood-Kino, das dem Film neue Freiheiten brachte und das gesellschaftliche Freiheitsversprechen zugleich hinterfragte. Einen der größten Erfolge feierte New Hollywood mit dem Road-Movie „Easy Rider”. Weil zunächst – wie so oft bei grundlegend neuen Ansätzen – keiner an den Film glaubte, produzierte ihn Regisseur Dennis Hopper unabhängig. Erst nach Fertigstellung wurde er von der Filmindustrie aufgekauft und sodann zum Kultfilm. „Easy Rider” war frei von allem, was das alte Hollywood ausmachte. Er erzählt von Menschen, die sich ein Leben unabhängig von der Gesellschaft aufbauen wollen, die Freiheit in Drogen, Rockmusik und mit selbstgebauten Motorrädern in der Provinz suchen. Doch wenngleich der Film die Freiheit beschwört, die Suche nach ihr zeigt er als eine ausweglose: Auch fernab der US-amerikanischen Metropolen ist die Freiheit des alten Pioniergeistes nicht zu mehr finden. Allen, die sie suchen, schlägt Aggression und Intoleranz entgegen; sie stoßen auf unbegrenzte Unmöglichkeiten.

In Deutschland war es das Oberhausener Manifest, das sich 1962 gegen die künstlerische Einengung des bestehenden Kinos wandte und damit den Neuen Deutschen Film begründete. Darin heißt es: „Dieser neue Film braucht neue Freiheiten. Freiheit von den branchenüblichen Konventionen. Freiheit von der Beeinflussung durch kommerzielle Partner. Freiheit von der Bevormundung durch Interessengruppen. [...] Der alte Film ist tot. Wir glauben an den neuen.”

Ebenfalls mit einem Manifest (Dogma 95) begründeten die dänischen Regisseure Thomas Vinterberg und Lars von Trier Mitte der 1990er Jahre die Neuausrichtung des Films und legten damit die Dialektik der Freiheit offen: Sie schränkten die Filmproduktion durch zehn Regeln rigoros ein, um so wiederum neue Freiheiten des Filmschaffens zu erzwingen. Auch im Falle der beiden Manifeste wirkten deren künstlerische Auswirkungen zugleich gesellschaftspolitisch.

Noch radikaler war dies in Südamerika (u.a. Grupo Cine Liberación), in Teilen Afrikas und Asiens mit dem „Tercer Cine“ der Fall, das sich dezidiert politisch verstand und im Kontext verschiedener revolutionärer Befreiungsbewegungen verortete. Dessen Filme dienten allesamt der politischen Aufklärung und Agitation, weshalb sie nur in eigens dafür eingerichtete klandestinen Kinos gezeigt werden konnten. Zur fragen wäre, inwiefern die digitale Revolution mit ihren neuen Vertriebskanälen zumindest in Teilen ebenfalls in dieser Tradition stehen kann.

Lange versuchte der politische Film die Massen zu erreichen. Mittlerweile bewegen die Massen die Filmkameras ihrer Mobiltelefone selbst durch die Welt. Welche künstlerischen wie politischen Impulse der Freiheit können damit einhergehen?

Auszug aus dem Konzept für das 15. Lichter Filmfest Frankfurt

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 1 - Sous le ciel de Paris

MASTERPOST | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Welcome to the start of my new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Please note that while I do have a plotted outline, I will be posting chapters as I write them, and I expect that process to take quite a few months. Please bear with me! This first chapter sets up the story - reader moving to Paris in the summer of 1939 and bonding with her new flatmate, Eloise Bridgerton. Please note that Benedict won't be turning up for a couple of chapters yet. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

August 1939

Emerging from the underground Trocadero metro stop, you round the corner of the recently completed, gleaming Palais de Chaillot and stop dead in your tracks. There before you is the most iconic landmark of Paris. Perhaps all of France.

La Tour Eiffel. 

Breathtaking in its metallic magnificence, glowing in the setting sun. A sight that buoys your travel-weary soul seven days after you left New York: boats and trains finally bringing you to this wondrous spot. A light breeze even dances over your neck in greeting, a balm from the cloying subterranean heat of the metro. 

It's a light elbow check to your arm that pulls you back from a state of reverie. 

“A beautiful sight, but one you’ll get used to,” your uncle Robert chuckles, shaking your heavy leather case to indicate it's time to move along. “In fact, I've been told you will be able to see it from your appartement…” 

He has accompanied you to Paris and will see you settled into your new adventures before continuing on to visit friends in England. He spent the roaring 20s living right here in the 16th arrondissement himself and, indeed, has arranged for you to share living quarters with a young British lady, a relative of his English friends. It's a comfort to know you’ll have at least one English speaker to chat with as you dive headfirst into learning proper French as you go.

Robert leads you away from the amazing sight and into the bustling streets, alive with cars, trams, bicycles and pedestrians buzzing in all directions. It's all at once like New York City, but yet so different as well, cafe terraces filling the wide pavements with all manner of people gathered to sip robust cafe au lait and refreshing limonade. 

Within minutes, you are on a quieter side street and stopping outside a handsome honey-coloured stone facade with wrought iron window balconies and window guards, teaming with colourful, fragrant flowering pots. The number 14 gleaming white on a traditional navy blue tile. Your uncle pushes the enormous wooden door open, beckoning you into a cool whitewash wall corridor with mosaic floor tiles.

“Ahhh, Robert!!” a sophisticated middle-aged lady bustles from a nearby doorway and greets your uncle warmly, kissing both cheeks. It would appear they are friends of old.

“Y/n, this is Madam DuLac, your landlady,” he explains as you offer a handshake, admiring her boucle jacket and chic bun.

“Qu’est-ce?” she signals with a good-natured frown, obviously finding your polite greeting lacking, pulling you into a hug and two-cheeked kiss. She smells like Chanel perfume, cigarettes and baked goods. “You are in Paris now, ma chérie; this is how we greet one another,” she counsels in heavily accented but perfect English.

“You speak English?” you sigh, relieved, your French decidedly lacking.

“Bien sûr,” she smiles. “And please call me Solène,” she adds with a friendly smile.

“Eloise should be home from the library maintenant; the perfect time for you to meet,” she gestures towards an elevator cage surrounded by a sweeping grey marble staircase.

“I think I would prefer to take the stairs,” you admit, nerves flaring at the idea of such a contraption.

Your uncle laughs. “Well, I am taking it; I am not hefting this case of yours up five flights of stairs,” he adds dryly as you gaze up the swirling stairwell.

“Five storeys?” you squeak.

“The view is the best from the top,” Solène advises as she rattles back the cage entry and steps in, looking at you expectantly. 

Reluctantly, you follow, all three of you and your luggage crammed into the metal cage as it jerks to life and begins its ascent.

“You will get used to it,” Solène smiles as she reads the apprehension on your face, your vice-like grip on your small vanity case and handbag.

Luckily, the lift reaches your destination safely. One shudder before it stops, and the door concertinas back in Solène’s hand to reveal a sweeping hallway with doors left and right. 

“Ici,” she signals, the last door on the right-hand side.

But before you can knock, the door peels open, and a pretty, petite brunette jumps in surprise, dropping the book she is holding.

“Pardon,” she offers in perfect accented French, and you wonder for a split second if it is the correct apartment.

“Eloise, this is y/n,” Solène gestures.

“Ohhh, hello,” she grins, and the whiplash back to a plummy British accent is momentarily confusing. “I was about to go read in the courtyard, thought you might not be turning up today. Anyway… come in, come in!”

You shake her proffered hand as she ushers you into the apartment. Instantly, you feel a warmth spreading in your belly, like you have come home. It's light and airy, with large windows looking out across the Parisian rooftops, and yes, to the left is indeed the Eiffel Tower, still gleaming in the fading evening light. But the place also feels homely, that sort of messy that is lived in, comfortable. A large velvet sofa with tumbling stacks of books around it, a little kitchenette awash with colourful enamel cookware, and a jumble of art deco posters and random paintings adorning the walls. 

“Solène, I don't suppose you've baked any more of those rather delicious madeleines, have you? To welcome my new housemate?” Eloise pipes up with a chipper, conspiratorial wink your way. 

You already like her.

“Effronte!” Solène exclaims with fond exasperation before pausing. “There may be some…”

“I remember those!” your uncle adds with a tinge of nostalgia as he drops your suitcase. “You are in for such a treat, y/n.”

“Well, while our landlady decides if she’s willing to share the treats she has obviously baked but is being coy about…”Eloise raises a pointed eyebrow at the woman before returning to you. “...let me show you your room, then maybe a drink? I'm sure it's been a long journey.”

You nod and, with an exchange of grins, follow her down a corridor. She sweeps open the door to a lovely room, a large double bed with matching bedside tables and a dresser. But best of all, french doors onto a Juliet balcony overlooking a quiet courtyard filled with a riot of birch trees, their leaves gently rustling in the evening breeze.

“Mostly, it’s pesky pigeons down there, but you do get the occasional blackbird singing in the morning,” Eloise smiles as if intuiting your thoughts.

You spend some moments wandering the room and checking out the various fixtures, running idle hands over the furniture, already feeling remarkably at home with your new housemate and, indeed, your new home for the next twelve months.

“I'm just next door,” Eloise reveals, pointing a thumb over her shoulder. 

Your uncle appears in the doorway to announce that he and Solène are off to catch up as you unpack and suggests you all reunite for dinner later at a local bistro. It all sounds so very Parisian chic; you cannot wait.

“So tell me about yourself,” Eloise flops onto your bed, already wonderfully casual in your presence, as you open your case and the wardrobe to unpack.

“I’m y/n. I'm from a little town on Long Island called Patchogue, about fifty miles outside New York City. I'm 22…”

“Me too!” she interjects, then signals for you to proceed.

“I wanted to see the world before I settled down. And I’ve dreamed of living in Paris since I was a little girl...” You feel your eyes misting at the fact it's now finally coming true as you continue. “So my parents agreed to pay for me to come to Paris for a year. Under the strict agreement, I get married when I return…” 

“You have a fiancé?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. Stanley. We practically grew up together, and we’ve been going steady since we were eighteen.”

“Going steady? That's so American,” Eloise chuckles.

You nod with a giggle, then continue. “He hasn't proposed formally yet, says he is saving up for a ‘real nice’ ring, but it will happen. He is the son of my dad’s business partner. They run a construction company. So, while I'm here, they are building a home for us to live in when I return. We will get married next summer and move right in.” 

“You don't mind?” Eloise frowns.

“Don’t mind what?” you query as you hang up your favourite dress.

“That your future is so… plotted out. I couldn't bear the idea. It's why I think my mother let me move to Paris. She was so fed up with me refusing to settle down.” Eloise laughs, idly flicking through the magazine you were reading on your journey.

“I suppose I've never really expected anything else,” you shrug, pausing as you put away your hosiery, but her words make you contemplative. “You don't have a boyfriend back home?”

“God, no. Too many pretty Frenchmen to entertain me here,” she winks. “I’ll introduce you to some, just in case you change your mind,” she breezes, climbing off your bed and drifting to the door. “Wine?”

“Oh… well, why not? When in France, etc,” you agree and close the drawer on the pile of cardigans you have just safely stacked.

“That's the spirit!” she effuses over her shoulder as you follow her back into the living room, the Eiffel Tower still glittering in the dusk.

“This place is so lovely,” you sigh, transfixed by the view as she wanders over and hands you a glass.

“It is a pretty magical view,” she agrees, staring at the skyline with you, watching as each window seems to illuminate in soft yellow with the dying light.

“And the decor, too; I see you love books as much as me,” you smile, tilting your head to the piles before taking a sip of red wine. It's the perfect balance of refreshing, mellow fruitiness and tart tannin coating your tongue, so much better than any wine back home.

“Oh god, yes! I work in the library. I can bring home as many as I want,” she enthuses.

“So, are there actually any left on the shelves?” you jest, lightly, savouring your drink and wandering to take a closer look at a smaller painting that catches your eye. It's very different to all of the others.

“My god, this is beautiful,” you breathe, hugging your wineglass to your chest as you stare transfixed at the art. It appears to be a large country house, probably British, bathed in the warm pinkish light of dawn.

“That's home. Aubrey Hall in Kent. I think the family made me bring it in the hopes it would make me homesick,” Eloise deadpans.

“It’s a wonderful piece,” you breathe, fingers reaching out to lightly trace over the heavily oiled brushstrokes. Something about it is so captivating and intimate.

“I'll be sure to let the artist know,” she smirks. “Although I'm reticent to give him any more praise, seeing as, unfortunately, he is my brother.”

“Your brother painted this?” taken aback by the revelation, assuming it an heirloom.

She nods and comes to stand next to you. “Yup. Benedict. Second eldest. I'm fifth of eight, by the way. Hence ‘E’ for Eloise. It's a thing,” she rolls her eyes.

“Wow. Big family. I just have one brother...” 

“Lucky you. Although, as much as he is irritating, if I could only keep one sibling, it probably would be him,” she admits, taking a swig of wine.

“I love art,” you sigh, finally tearing your gaze from the canvas but already knowing it is something you will return to again and again. A pull you can’t quite understand.

“Oh, then I know the perfect job for you! There’s a gallery around the corner from the library, and I saw a sign saying they wanted an English speaker to assist international visitors! You would be perfect!”

“I would love that!” you extol, even as a tiny part of your brain lingers on the idea that it would be too good to be true if it all worked out, that fleeting sense of foreboding in paradise.

“Excellent!” Eloise’s enthusiasm pulls you back to the immediate. “So let’s get your glad rags on! It's time to hit the town for your first night in Paris!”

And thus, you find yourself being bundled back into your room to refresh and change for your first night in the city of your dreams. Indeed, as you find yourself being led by Eloise, arm looped in yours, through the bustling evening streets to a little bistro, your uncle and Solène already waiting at a table with smiling faces and drinks in hand, you can't help but feel this really is the only place in the world you could ever want to be…

Your adventure is just beginning.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[atomic-taco-muffin]

Princess Myra betrothed to gladiolus au:

El: *opens a portal leading to the kingdom hearts universe* well no better time than now to see right?

Meanwhile:

Dulac: *sighs and walks out to the balcony* Jessica where did you go? People are now targeting you for your powers and vision..

Yui: y-you mean…