#bertrand editores

[whoismegburns]

i’m handling this very well can you tell

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Jeanne Moreau (Jules et Jim, Elevator to the Gallows, The Night)—Oh my. What a career! She's worked with directors from all over the world! Luis Buñuel, Tony Richardson, Bertrand Blier, Elia Kazan, André Téchiné, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Wim Wenders, Amos Gitai, Theo Angelopoulos, Michelangelo Antonioni, Orson Welles, Jacques Demy, Joseph Losey, François Truffaut... She played good and she played evil, Machiavellian and sweet, she could do it all. She's magnetic, her mouth is sensual, her gaze direct and demanding, she's absolutely unforgettable. […] Iconic Jules & Jim scene where she's singing; I picked a link with English subtitles. […] What can I say? She's an ICON, pure and simple. [editor’s note: this was very good propaganda but I had to remove a large amount of it because it discussed her post-1970 career. Please keep your propaganda to items within our window of 1910-1970!]

Abbey Lincoln (Nothing but a Man, For Love of Ivy)—abbey lincoln was an actress, jazz vocalist, songwriter, and civil rights activist; in her acting career she's most noted for starring in nothing but a man, an independent drama about a black couple navigating life in a small town that's been called an important example of american neorealism, and for love of ivy, a romantic comedy co-starring sidney poitier

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Abbey Lincoln propaganda:

link to nothing but a man trailer [editor's note: TW for N-word slur]

she also appears as herself in the girl can't help it:

Jeanne Moreau:

[josefavomjaaga]

Ida Saint-Elme about Junot

Some of the most colourful descriptions of Junot's decline in 1813, while he was gouvernor of the Illyrian provinces, actually comes from Ney-fangirl No. 1, La Contemporaine, Ida Saint-Elme. And while there seems to be some doubt about Ida really going to Illyria during the first half of 1813, what she describes may still be very true. Her editor was one Charles Nodier, who had been called to Trieste as a librarian by Junot's predecessor Bertrand and who must have been an eye-witness to most events. But before she goes into details about her pretended sojourn in Trieste, Ida gives a short description of Junot:

Much has been said about the Duc d'Abrantès. Few soldiers have deserved to be immortalized in the bulletins through more brilliant and more numerous feats of arms.

I'm not quite sure was she is referring to here. What were Junot's major feats of arms?

But it would be unfair to see him as nothing more than a common soldier. A writing master would have envied his pen and a fencing master his fine bearing under arms. He held himself marvellously in a salon; a little upright, a little tense, showing off with some affectation his height, his legs, those natural and brilliant advantages which were disputed in the army only by Count Pajol, his rival in bravery and loyalty. He fired weapons like M. de Bondy, and recognised only Fournier and Delmas as his rivals for the pistol. He had less successful ambitions as a dancer. I think that his merit in this area has been somewhat exaggerated and I do not see that his memory has much to gain from succeeding in the Anglaise and the Montferrine.

Like Chamillard, the minister of Louis XIV, Junot played billiards in a remarkable manner. When it came to billiards in particular, he should not have been offended by any rival claims. In this genre, he had tried everything, executed everything, perfected everything. He was prouder of it than of the most brilliant memory of his military successes. For example, it was to him that we owe the instrument that cuts the billiard cue without slowing down the game, which Bouvard had just brought to him from Paris. I have seen high lords, grave diplomats, bishops and princes compliment him on it.

She then continues with the, I believe, rather infamous anecdote of Junot drinking "sulphuric ether" at dinner.

[dcbbw]

Commoner, Part 2--Secret

Part 2 of Commoner! Part 1 can be found here.  We’re picking up where we left off (Leo left, Sav is pregnant, and no one knows)

This story was born of a long-standing head canon (Sav would crush on the older brother, not her brother’s best friend), and the song inspiration (original version, but used the sad and acoustic version for this fic); lyrics are also taken from the song inspo.

IF you read this, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you realize. Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this story as 99% error-free.

To all those who read over this story in its various variations and renditions, THANK YOU! Your feedback, ideas, and encouragement was invaluable (as always).

Thanks to @choicesflashfics for their Week 62 prompt #2, which will appear in bold.

Song Inspo: Strangers (sad and acoustic version), Kenya Grace

Pairing(s): Savannah Walker x Leo Rys; Savannah Walker x Bertrand Beaumont

Word Count: 2,201

Rating: M for Mature themes

I sit in the back of the sleek, black Mercedes that is Duchy Ramsford’s official vehicle with the Brothers Beaumont, en route to the Palace. King Constantine has requested a meeting of the Great Houses.

And me.

I vacillate between relief that he will put those awful rumors to rest, and fear that Leo will be there with that woman.

“You appear to be deep in thought,” Bertrand observes. “Are you feeling well?”

I plaster a quick smile onto my lips. “Merely curious why the King would want me to be present at this meeting.”

The Duke gives me a solicitous nod, and I again wonder why he’s been so nice to me since our breakfast encounter.  It’s not that Bertrand is a bad guy; he has taught me a lot during my month at House Beaumont. I know more than I ever wanted to about utensils, glassware, table etiquette, and bloodlines and lineage. I now know that the reason I don’t have the title of Lady, the most ubiquitous yet ambiguous title a woman can hold, is because I don’t belong to a House.

I’m commoner.

But he isn’t a nice guy either, so the attention is a bit … odd.

“I wonder if it has anything to do with Leo, and all the news stories?” Max pipes up. “Although I suppose if Bastien is at the Palace and Leo isn’t, that may be all the confirmation we need.”

Bertrand looks out the window. “We’re here,” he announces.

I swear I feel my baby flip inside my stomach, which is stupid. I’m only eight weeks along.

As we walk up the front staircase, I don’t feel a sense of homecoming. I only feel dread. My throat closes when Bastien opens the door and leads us to the formal living room where the other guests are gathered. Groups are huddled close together; there are murmurs of conversations I cannot hear. I hug my brother and struggle through a curtsy meant to encompass the entire room. No one acknowledges me other than Kiara, who gives me a huge grin and enthusiastic hug.

And I wonder why I feel the need to be a part of this world, to be accepted by the very people who never will.

That it'll never change And it will just stay like this

I catch a glimpse of Madeleine, who is stone-faced; only the paleness of her skin and the clenching of her jaw signals anger, embarrassment, and hurt. I look down at her hands; her fingers are bare of jewelry.

Leo has left both of us.

The King clears his throat, and we all turn towards the front of the room. He is flanked by Queen Regina and Liam; all of them are wearing stoic expressions and I know … in my brain, my heart, my very soul … Leo has run off and fulfilled promises he could never make to me to another woman. I’m a single, teenaged mother with absolutely nothing to my name; I can’t even leverage the child growing inside of me.

There is a buzzing in my ears that drowns out the words my monarch is uttering until he states that Liam will ascend to the throne. There is to be a social season, and I will be the House Beaumont sponsee. The Crown will fund my sponsorship as I was still their ward and had no properties of my own. Drake’s face darkens, Bertrand beams proudly, and Max jumps up and down in excitement.

There’s something about Bertrand’s smile … he isn’t surprised to hear this news. Did he already know what to expect?  Was Leo the phone call that morning?

I throw up on the priceless carpet and my hand-me-down shoes.

Three weeks pass, weeks where I scour newspapers, magazines, and the internet for news of my baby’s father. There is a plethora of media, mostly photos of him in motocross tournaments: smiling happily in the Mojave Desert, frowning in concentration as he inspects his vehicle in UAE, sunning on a beach in Greece. The woman is not in the pictures, and rarely mentioned in the articles.

Now she can be his dirty little secret.

And when we spoke for months Well, did you ever mean it? How can we say that this is love When it goes like this?

Meanwhile, in Cordonia, my hips are spreading; my breasts are getting fuller, and my belly is only slightly rounded. Bertrand has ramped up my training but takes care to give me breaks throughout the day and we are now spending our meals together without Maxwell. He shares stories of his education, his time as a fashion designer, and memories of his childhood.

He walks me to my room every evening; occasionally he holds my hand.

I am not in love with Bertrand, but I find myself enjoying his company more and more.

But every time I meet somebody new It's like déjà vu I swear they sound the same It's like they know my skin

We’re sitting in Bertrand’s study one night; he is poring over documents related to Liam’s cabinet. Bertrand and Rashad Domvallier are to be financial and legal advisors to the new future King. I watch him nervously. I’ve decided that tonight is the time to tell him I cannot be the House’s sponsee. It isn’t fair to not tell him; he’ll need time to find someone new and school them in the ways of nobility.

My fingernails pluck nervously at my robe. I could very well be homeless in the next 15 minutes. Bertrand takes his duties as Duke seriously and is extremely rigid when it came to appearances and reputation; an unwed, pregnant commoner could not reside under the roof of House Beaumont. However, returning to the Palace would be a disaster between King Constantine and Big Brother Drake.

But it has to be done. This baby is going to make itself known sooner than later.

He drains his third glass of cognac before sighing heavily and pushing himself away from his desk. With an unsteady gait, he crosses the room to join me on the sofa. He looks almost regal in his gold silk robe with black piping, and black pajama bottoms. He sits so closely, I smell his cologne; it’s Hermès.

Leo always wore Armani.

“Savannah, I’d like to have a … conversation of a different sort with you.” His breath smells of liquor and his words are slightly slurred.

“Isn’t that funny?” I reply in a squeaky voice. “I wanted to have one with you also.”

He pulls one of my hands into his as he begins to speak. “You need to know that while you may be participating in the social season, you won’t win the hand of the Crown Prince. The position requires someone of lineage, with a knowledge of world politics and has a pulse on the fluctuating nature of both Court and Crown. However, the Engagement Tour should afford you an opportunity to marry into a minor house.”

I stare at him dumbfounded. Drunk Bertrand pisses me off.

“However, I do find myself being very attracted to you. I propose an offer that should be beneficial to both of us. I’d like you to be my mistress until we both find persons worthy of our status and station. You would become an honorary member of House Beaumont to assure you have a title, and I can be a very generous lover in more ways than one.”

He drops my hand and rises from the couch on his second attempt. He goes to a coat closet, opens the door, and retrieves a package. The box is emblazoned with Hermès’ name and logo. He brings it back to me, carefully placing it in my lap.

“Open it,” he urges.

I do so to find a limited-edition white matte satchel, made of leather and silk. The tag is still attached: $200,000 USD. I look up at him, knowing that he wants me to know how much it costs.

“Your … mistress?” I ask as my body feels as if it’s going numb.

And it will just stay like this Never really dating, breaking up

“This world is cruel. I’m just playing by its rules. It would behoove you to do so as well. You can’t be anything else to me or anyone of stature. You’re a commoner with the most basic of public education. You are ignorant in the ways of Court, the circles you would need to travel in. I am happy to give you the benefit of my knowledge, but at the end of the day, I am a Duke. Dukes don’t marry commoners.”

He says it all as if he is telling me the sun will rise in the east. Bertrand means no harm; nobles never do. Or so they claim.

Every word they say sounds just like him

My eyes fall back to the price tag, realizing I have my way out. I can keep my secret, and everyone’s precious reputation is intact.

“It’s late, Your Grace and you have given me a lot to process. I’ll have an answer for you in due time.”

He gives me a small smile. “May I … may I kiss you?”

A small shake of my head. “No,” I reply in an almost-rueful tone.

I know my place.

His smile falters, and he nods slowly. “My apologies. That was presumptuous of me.”

I mentally shake my head. THAT is what he considered to be the most horrible thing about his proposition?  I box the purse again, and stand.

“I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Three months later, I am standing on the balcony of my small pied-a-terre located in a quaint, quiet Parisian neighborhood, watching the day come to an end. The sun is still bright in the sky, but evening is fast approaching. My fingers comb through my dark, thick tresses before pulling a toffee-colored cardigan tighter across my expanding body.

It’s springtime and I think again how leaving Cordonia to settle here was the best move. Paris had always been my dream destination: red lipsticks, rich wines, decadent perfumes, trendy runway fashions.

The baby and I have even learned to enjoy the food.

My eyes take in the Palais Garnier, also known as the Paris Opera House, not that far in the distance before falling to the cobblestoned streets below: restaurant and café doors open, unleashing aromas of grilled meat and sauteed onions as bakeries pull window shades down. Women with chic hats and impossibly high heels exit dress stores, shopping bags bunched in fisted hands. Street vendors begin putting away their wares.

My stomach rumbles, and I head inside. There had been a late breakfast/early lunch a few hours ago, but the fruit, yogurt, and cheese and spinach omelet have all but disappeared now. My child has a healthy appetite. I walk around a black wrought iron table with matching chairs, pausing to fluff oversized chair cushions decorated with huge sunflowers.

I push the terrace door shut behind me before going into the kitchen. I had taken a chicken out earlier, but I no longer have an appetite for it. Instead, I want pistou pasta with grilled duck and extra mushrooms from my favorite bistro.

But money is tight. Despite having a job and being frugal with the savings leftover from the sale of the purse Bertrand gifted me, I need to be mindful of rent, food, doctor’s appointments once the child gets here and I will be on unpaid leave.

I’m having a boy that I will name Barthelemy, Bartie for short. It’s my way of paying homage to Maxwell for being such an incredible and caring friend during all of this. He doesn’t know who the father is and has never pressured me to tell him. He sends money and has offered to make an honest woman of me.

All of this even though I left House Beaumont without a sponsee, and they now either have to find one that they will have to fully sponsor or withdraw.

A knock at the door captures my attention; I stare at it with a frown. I don’t have many friends in Paris; Maxwell is due for his monthly visit next week. He’s bringing Drake and Kiara with him. They were the only two I instructed Maxwell to tell of my whereabouts. Drake and I aren’t close, but we are all we have left as far as family. He deserved to know. Kiara’s my best girlfriend, and she speaks French. Win-win.

I would like to see Liam, but he has much to learn and do before the social season begins in less than 12 weeks.

 I slowly and laboriously cross the small distance between the kitchen and the front door; my eye widens as I peer through the peephole.

Leo.

He looks even more handsome if that’s possible. He carries a bouquet of flowers in one hand as he looks around the hallway. I quietly and cautiously back away from the door as tears prick the corners of my eyes.

And then one random night When everything changes You won't reply And we'll go back to strangers

Tagging: @jared2612 ​@ao719 @marietrinmimi @indiacater​​​ @kingliam2019​ @bebepac @liamxs-world @mom2000aggie​​​ @liamrhysstalker2020​​​ @twinkleallnight @umccall71 @superharriet@busywoman​​​ @gabesmommie1130 @tessa-liam​​​ @beezm @gardeningourmet​​​ @lovingchoices14 @mainstreetreader @angelasscribbles​​​ @lady-calypso @emkay512 @princessleac1 @charlotteg234 @alj4890​ @motorcitymademadame​​​ @queenmiarys @choicesficwriterscreations

[beatricebidelaire]

snicketverse characters as xkcd

lemony:

beatrice:

dewey:

olaf:

esme:

duchess r:

kit and bertrand:

esme and olaf:

frank and ernest:

quigley:

jacques:

gregor:

klaus:

geraldine:

georgina:

sally:

the editor:

dr. lorenz:

[asouefanworkevent]

and that's a wrap on the wicked way exchange!! always a little sad the day after an exchange ends, isn't it? everything is over now. no more working and editing and waiting and getting in last minute details and everything. but now there's so much exciting fanwork to see! look at it all!!! we all did this!!!!!

thank you all again for participating!!!!!! i'm so happy and so proud of you all. ⭐⭐



@lesbianscieszka: Interesting (esme and jerome), for @gray-zelle

@library-child: Associates (beatrice and olaf), for @hitsuzenhusbands

@gray-zelle: Hearts & Hives (jacquelyn/esme, jacques/jerome, olaf/esme), for @archangelsunited

@accidentallylita: Jacques and Olivia fic, for @snicketbae

@acacia-may: Good Things Find Their Way Back (baudelaires and quagmires post-canon), for @junowritesstuff

@memento-fugaces: Jacques and Quigley fic, for @nothing-to-see-here-bye-yall

@snicketbae: Jacques and Olivia art, for @accidentallylita

@volunteerfelinedetectives: SBTS Associates fic, for @cherrycokeisnice

@nothing-to-see-here-bye-yall: Snicket siblings art, for @bittersbetter

@hitsuzenhusbands: The Shattering of Thalia and Melpomene (beatrice and olaf), for @virginian-wolfsnake

@bittersbetter: SBTS Associates art, for @miriel-therindes

@virginian-wolfsnake: death of an enemy (esme after beatrice dies), for @navree

@navree: Two Scoops (lemony and babybea), for @acacia-may

@littlestsnicket: All the News in Fits of Print (moxie and geraldine), for @whoslaurapalmer

@miriel-therindes: Sugar Bowl Gen Class Photo art, for @larryy0urwaiter

@larryy0urwaiter: Bertrand and Lemony art, for @odd-kid-42

@snckt: Denouement edit, for @lyeekha

@lyeekha: Beatrice/Bertrand/Lemony) Lion Tamer art, for @littlestsnicket

@somewhat-bored: Late Night Thoughts (ellington/cleo), for @volunteerfelinedetectives

@whoslaurapalmer: sweetest things (pre-canon baudelaire family), for @snckt

@junowritesstuff: A Chance Encounter (violet/quigley post-canon), for @noodle-the-queen

@noodle-the-queen: Jacquelyn and Esme art, for @lesbianscieszka

@jacobsnicket: anyway, don't be a stranger (lemony returning to stain'd-by-the-sea), for @missingmae

@cherrycokeisnice: Two Years After "Why Is This Night Different Than All Other Nights?" (ellington and cleo), for @somewhat-bored

@odd-kid-42: Non-restrictive Clause to Some (lemony and moxie talk about asoue), for @library-child

@archangelsunited: On That Account (dewey in vfd), for @memento-fugaces

@missingmae: the misadventures of a very kind editor (lemony and the editor), for @jacobsnicket

[unfortunatetheorist]

The R - Part 1:

What is the connection between Mr Remora and Duchess R [of Winnipeg]?

One of the many mysteries that Lemony Snicket has left behind for readers (and viewers, to a certain extent) is 'What does the R stand for, in "Duchess R" ?' I am going to attempt to answer this question using any resources available, under the title 'The R'. This will be over a series of unfortunate posts, in this format.

Firstly, we must look for any and all clues that can give us even the slightest hint as to what R might stand for.

For this, I have gone through every character in ASOUE and this is produced: (after the cut, but feel free to skip ahead)

Lemony Snicket

Violet Baudelaire 

Klaus Baudelaire 

Sunny Baudelaire 

Count Olaf

Bald Man with the Long Nose 

Mrs. Bass 

Beatrice Baudelaire 

Beatrice Baudelaire II 

Bertrand Baudelaire 

Bruce 

Colette  

Fernald 

Hal 

Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender 

Hugo 

Incredibly Deadly Viper 

Geraldine Julienne 

Kevin 

Kind Editor 

Man with a Beard but No Hair

Vice Principal Nero

Phil 

Arthur Poe  

Duncan Quagmire 

Isadora Quagmire  

Quigley Quagmire  

Mr. Remora 

Carmelita Spats 

Kit Snicket 

Esmé Squalor 

Jerome Squalor 

Justice Strauss 

White-Faced Women 

Woman with Hair but No Beard

Albert Poe 

Edgar Poe 

Polly Poe 

Wart-Faced Man

Alaskan Cow Lizard 

Androgynous Cobra  

Madame diLustro  

Dissonant Toad  

Green Gimlet Toad 

Inky Newt 

Irascible Python 

O. Lucafont 

Mamba du Mal 

Monty Montgomery 

Monty Montgomery's Sister

Gustav Sebald 

Stephano 

Virginian Wolfsnake

Ike Anwhistle

Josephine Anwhistle

Bertrand Baudelaire's Cousin

Gina-Sue

 Larry Your-Waiter 

Captain Sham

Charles

 Foreman Firstein

 Flacutono

Georgina Orwell

 Shirley 

Sir

Elwyn 

Coach Genghis 

Ms. Tench

Ben 

Gunther

Chief of Police

Council of Elders 

Detective Dupin 

Hector

 Mr. Lesko 

Officer Luciana 

Mrs. Morrow 

Verhoogen Family 

V.F.D. Crows

Babs

Bearded Man 

Laura V. Bleediotie 

Lou 

Mattathias

 Milt

 Mr. Sirin

 Volunteers Fighting Disease

Beverly and Elliot

 Olivia Caliban 

Chabo the Wolf Baby 

Man With Pimples On His Chin 

Ringmaster 

Volunteer Feline Detectives

Infant Servant

C.M. Kornbluth 

Snow Gnats 

Snow Scouts 

V.F.D. Eagles 

White-Faced Women's Sibling 

Winnipeg Scout

Gregor Anwhistle 

Fiona 

The Great Unknown 

Captain Widdershins 

Mrs. Widdershins

Count Olaf's father 

Count Olaf's mother 

Dewey Denouement 

Ernest Denouement 

Frank Denouement

Alonso 

Ariel 

Jonah Bellamy 

Sadie Bellamy 

Rabbi Bligh 

Brewster 

Byam 

Friday Caliban 

Miranda Caliban 

Calypso 

Erewhon

Ferdinand 

Finn 

Professor Fletcher 

Gonzalo 

Ishmael 

Dr. Kurtz 

Larsen 

Ms. Marlow 

Monday

Madame Nordoff 

Omeros 

Mr. Pitcairn 

Robinson 

Sherman 

Thursday 

Weyden 

Willa

Beekeeper

Building Committee 

Emily Dickinson 

Dolores  

Esmé Squalor Fan Club 

Gerta 

Daniel Handler

Haruki

 Ivan Lachrymose 

Eleanora Poe 

Lena Pukalie 

Duchess R 

R's Mother 

R's Father 

Young Rölf 

Sally Sebald

Shoemaker 

A. Snicket 

B. Snicket 

Chas. Snicket 

D. Snicket 

E. Snicket 

F. Snicket 

G 

H 

I  

Jacob Snicket  

M 

N 

O 

Mr. Spats

Mrs. Spats 

Town Fathers 

Valorous Farms Dairy 

Baron van de Wetering

Yeah. Every single one.

Now, let's rule out everyone who does not have a name beginning with R, or is unclear: (again, feel free to skip ahead)

Bald Man with the Long Nose 

Mrs. Bass 

Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender 

Incredibly Deadly Viper 

Kind Editor 

Man with a Beard but No Hair

Mr. Remora 

White-Faced Women 

Woman with Hair but No Beard

Wart-Faced Man

Madame diLustro  

Monty Montgomery's Sister

Bertrand Baudelaire's Cousin

 Foreman Firstein

Coach Genghis 

Ms. Tench

Verhoogen Family 

 Mr. Sirin

Man With Pimples On His Chin 

Infant Servant

White-Faced Women's Sibling 

Winnipeg Scout

The Great Unknown 

Captain Widdershins 

Mrs. Widdershins

Count Olaf's father 

Count Olaf's mother 

Rabbi Bligh 

Dr. Kurtz 

Ms. Marlow 

Madame Nordoff 

Mr. Pitcairn 

Robinson 

Beekeeper

Duchess R 

R's Mother 

R's Father 

Young Rölf 

Mr. Spats

Mrs. Spats 

Town Fathers 

As the title states, we'll keep some focus on Remora, but we'll eliminate all other minor characters:

Bald Man with the Long Nose 

Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender 

Incredibly Deadly Viper 

Kind Editor 

Man with a Beard but No Hair

Mr. Remora 

White-Faced Women 

Woman with Hair but No Beard

Wart-Faced Man

Madame diLustro  

Monty Montgomery's Sister

Bertrand Baudelaire's Cousin

Robinson 

Duchess R 

R's Mother 

R's Father 

Young Rölf 

According to Various Fan Deductions:

TMWABBNH & TWWHBNB are Gifford & Ghede

The White-Faced Women are Zada and Zora

Lemony's Kind Editor is Moxie Mallahan

Madame diLustro is Sunny Baudelaire

This rules out the 4 of them.

Bald Man with the Long Nose 

Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender 

Incredibly Deadly Viper 

Mr. Remora 

Wart-Faced Man

Monty Montgomery's Sister

Bertrand Baudelaire's Cousin

Robinson 

Duchess R 

R's Mother 

R's Father 

Young Rölf 

Logically speaking, why would there be a connection between Ink and Duchess R? Let's eliminate unlikely possibilities:

Mr. Remora  

Monty Montgomery's Sister

Bertrand Baudelaire's Cousin

Robinson 

Duchess R 

R's Mother 

R's Father 

Young Rölf 

Monty Montgomery's sister would be (_insert name here_) Montgomery. This, to me, rules her out too... and the same logic applies to Bertrand's cousin.

Mr. Remora  

Robinson 

(Duchess R) 

(R's Mother) 

(R's Father)

Young Rölf 

Obviously her family are related:

Mr. Remora  

Robinson - Islander

Young Rölf 

So, the above names are generated. I will, henceforth, analyse a link between each character and R, starting with Remora.

POINTS:

a. It's known that a few characters in the Snicket-verse have alliterating names, such as Quigley Quagmire, Beatrice Baudelaire.

b. It's also known that some characters have WEIRD connections to others, such as Quigley's 'relation' to Mr Poe.

THEORY: Given a. and b. to be true, Mr R _______ Remora, has some abstract connection to the Duchess.

This connection can only really be established if one goes by Netflix canon and assumes Nero's surname to be Feint, and combines this with ATWQ:

Duchess R is Remora's boss' ancestor's murderer's friend.

R's friend is Lemony, who murdered Hangfire, who is the ancestor of Nero, Remora's boss.

Part 2 Still to Come...

¬ Th3r3534rch1ngr4ph, Unfortunate Theorist/Snicketologist

[daimonclub]

100 super worthy quotes

100 super worthy quotes 100 super worthy quotes, another post full of great valuable quotes and aphorisms selected among the best authors ever by our chief editor Carl William Brown It is a profitable thing, if one is wise, to seem foolish. Aeschylus If there is meaning in life at all, then there must be meaning in suffering. Viktor Frankl I have never gotten over the trauma of coming into the world, I have never liked the stupidity of the universe, let alone if I will ever be able to accept my mother's death. Carl William Brown The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible worlds; and the pessimist fears this is true. James Branch Cabell God is a comedian playing to an audience that is too afraid to laugh. Voltaire The man who speaks to you of sacrifice, speaks of slaves and masters. And intends to be the master. Ayn Rand There is nothing more awful, insulting, and depressing than banality. Anton Chekhov What people commonly call fate is mostly their own stupidity. Arthur Schopenhauer I feel completely detached from any country, any group. I am a metaphysically displaced person. Emil M. Cioran In order to understand the world, one has to turn away from it on occasion. Albert Camus In such a stupid and cruel world, only imbeciles, selfish and devoid of any empathy, can find themselves at ease, also hoping to live a long time! Carl William Brown He lit a lamp in broad daylight and said, as he went about, "I am looking for a human. Diogenes of Sinope Meaningful silence is better than meaningless words. Pythagoras Man is quite insane. He wouldn't know how to create a maggot, and he creates Gods by the dozen. Michel de Montaigne

Happy people read quotes Women are the real architects of society. Harriet Beecher Stowe The closer to the truth, the better the lie, and the truth itself, when it can be used, is the best lie. Isaac Asimov Vulgus (Mundus o Populus) vult decipi, ergo decipiatur. (The world wants to be deceived, and so it is.) Latin Saying Without "ethical culture", there is no salvation for humanity. Albert Einstein You can't imagine how stupid the whole world has grown nowadays. Nikolai Gogol The price good men pay for indifference to public affairs is to be ruled by evil men. Plato One of the greatest problems of our time is that many. are schooled but few are educated. Thomas More Any idiot can face a crisis; it's this day-to-day living that wears you out. Anton Chekhov People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own soul. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. Carl Jung It is stupidity rather than courage to refuse to recognize danger when it is close upon you. Arthur Conan Doyle Never interrupt your enemy, when he is making a mistake. Napoleon Bonaparte The only real goal that can have a certain value for our stupid and insignificant existence is to lose it forever. Carl William Brown When people talk listen completely. Don’t be thinking what you’re going to say. Most people never listen. Nor do they observe. Ernest Hemingway The tragedy of life is that it gives us wisdom only when it has stolen youth Will Durant Force governs the world (unfortunately!) and not knowing: therefore whoever rules it can and usually is ignorant. Vittorio Alfieri

100 worthy aphorisms Competition is the law of the jungle, but cooperation is the law of civilization. Peter Kropotkin What if culture itself is nothing but a halt, a break, a respite, in the pursuit of barbarity? Slavoj Žižek The world is full of willing people; some willing to work, the rest willing to let them. Robert Frost Doesn't surprise me that Christ our Lord preferred to live with prostitutes and sinners, seeing I go in for that myself. Johann Wolfgang Friedrich von Goethe Strong thoughts are iron nails driven in the mind, that nothing can draw out. Denis Diderot A man who does not dissent is a seed that will never grow. Bertrand Russell To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering. Friedrich Nietzsche Time and space are the stupidest, most tragic and atrocious things that can concern us. Carl William Brown Man is insatiable for power; he is infantile in his desires and, always discontented with what he has, loves only what he has not. People complain of the despotism of princes; they ought to complain of the despotism of man. Joseph de Maistre I myself must also say I believe it is true that in the end humanitarianism will triumph; only I fear that at the same time the world will be one big hospital and each person will be the other person's humane keeper. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe There are worse crimes than burning books. One of them is not reading them. Joseph Brodsky The history of the world's great leaders is often the story of human folly. Voltaire The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. Edmund Burke Be alone, that is the secret of invention: be alone, that is when ideas are born. Nikola Tesla Bad temper is its own safety valve. He who can bark does not bite. Agatha Christie The happiness of your life depends upon the quality of your thoughts. Marcus Aurelius This place is a dream. Only a sleeper considers it real. Then death comes like dawn, and you wake up laughing at what you thought was your grief. Rumi Life not lived is a disease from which one can die. Carl Gustav Jung Some people have no idea what they're doing, and a lot of them are really good at it. George Carlin The poet sees, at the same time and from a single point, what is visible to two, in isolation. Boris Pasternak

Worthy and valuable quotes Life begins on the other side of despair. Jean-Paul Sartre Wealth is the slave of a wise man. The master of a fool. Seneca A man is the sum of his misfortunes. One day you'd think misfortune would get tired but then time is your misfortune. William Faulkner To accomplish great things, we must not only act, but also dream; not only plan, but also believe. Anatole France I think the devil doesn't exist, but man has created him, he has created him in his own image and likeness. Fyodor Dostoevsky Death smiles at us all; all a man can do is smile back. Marcus Aurelius On the verge of death he remembered his mother who was waiting for him in the reality that does not exist and almost pleased he consoled himself. Carl William Brown Awareness of ignorance is the beginning of wisdom. Socrates Women are meant to be loved, not understood. Oscar Wilde Persons unmask their evilest qualities when they do quarrel. George Herbert A student of Buddhism tries to unlearn something daily. Alan Watts Everyone gets the experience. Some get the lesson. T. S. Eliot To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment. Ralph Waldo Emerson We are all like the bright moon, we still have our darker side. Khalil Gibran We are all born originals and die copies. Carl Gustav Jung I have a theory that the moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself. Henry Miller The high-minded man must care more for the truth than for what people think. Aristotle Bees don’t waste their time explaining to flies that honey is better than shit! Anonymous I would rather excel in the knowledge of what is excellent, than in the extent my power and possessions. Plutarch In this super sea of shit, we are all in the same boat, but those who row are always the same. Carl William Brown

Quote against warfare Artificial intelligence will be Man's most important achievement. Too bad it could be the last. Stephen Hawking Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead. Benjamin Franklin If you don't have ideas, read. If you have ideas, but can't articulate them, write. If you have ideas, and have the clarity to execute, build. Dan Koe Knowledge is no guarantee of good behavior, but ignorance is a virtual guarantee of bad behavior. Martha C. Nussbaum. When reading, we don't fall in love with the characters' appearance. We fall in love with their words, their thoughts, and their hearts. We fall in love with their souls. Anonymous The best things can only be achieved with maximum effort. Goethe Nature is busy creating absolutely unique individuals, whereas culture has invented a single mold to which all must conform. It is grotesque. U. G. Krishnamurti The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.. John Milton It is dangerous to be right in matters where established men are wrong. Voltaire What is called a reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying. Albert Camus The bad thing of war is, that it makes more evil people than it can take away. Immanuel Kant Reason connot defeat emotion, an emotion can only be displaced or overcome by a stronger emotion. Baruch Spinoza Compassion for our parents is the true sign of maturity. Anais Nin You only know me as you see me, not as I actually am. Immanuel Kant The closer to the truth, the better the lie, and the truth itself, when it can be used, is the best lie. Isaac Asimov The tragedy of life is that it gives us wisdom only when it has stolen youth Will Durant The tragedy of life is that it gives us wisdom only when it has stolen youth Will Durant The enjoyment of power inevitably corrupts the judgment of reason, and perverts its liberty. Immanuel Kant Let us not burden our remembrances With a heaviness that's gone. William Shakespeare Man is born free and everywhere he is in chains. Rousseau

Read quotes and relax The smart way to keep people passive and obedient is to strictly limit the spectrum of acceptable opinion, but allow very lively debate within that spectrum. Noam Chomsky Those who are right do not argue. Those who argue are not right. Lao Tzu We live for books. A sweet mission in this world dominated by disorder and decay. Umberto Eco The stupidity of people comes from having an answer for everything. Milan Kundera When I was young, I admired clever people. Now that I am old, I admire kind people. Abraham Joshua Heschel The great use of life is to spend it for something that will outlast it. William James Comprehension, inventiveness, direction, and criticism: intelligence is contained in these four words. Alfred Binet Patience is waiting. Not passively waiting. That is laziness. But to keep going when the going is hard and slow - that is patience. The two most powerful warriors are patience and time. Leo Tolstoy I am sure that if the mothers of various nations could meet, there would be no more wars. E. M. Forster Geniuses are like thunderstorms. They go against the wind, terrify people, cleanse the air. Soren Kierkegaard Books for general reading always smell badly; the odor of common people hangs about them. Friedrich Nietzsche Don’t miss these other similar posts: Wise quotes from the Ancients 100 golden quotes and aphorisms 100 wonderful quotes and aphorisms 100 admirable quotes and aphorisms 100 magnificent quotes and aphorisms 100 brilliant quotes and aphorisms 100 famous quotes and aphorisms 100 memorable quotes and aphorisms 100 excellent quotes and aphorisms 100 top great quotes and aphorisms 100 great quotes on love Great and famous philosophy quotes Quotes by authors Quotes by arguments Thoughts and reflections Essays with quotes Read the full article

[lolablackwrites]

MC Mixer #3--Alice x Bastien

Here is my submission for week 3 of @choicesmcmadness​ ‘s MC Mixer!

Hello, Trend readers! Check out this online exclusive sneak peek from our intrepid arts and lifestyle reporter, Aisha Levins, and her interview with Lord Maxwell Beaumont about his upcoming book, The Royal Romance.

—Ana de Luca

***

Aisha: Lord Beaumont, thank you for taking the time to sit down with me to talk about your upcoming book.

Maxwell: Please, call me Maxwell, and thank you for having me.

Aisha: Your book, The Royal Romance, is one of the most hotly anticipated books in the last few years and from what I understand, preorders are through the roof. What inspired you to write this book?

Maxwell: In a word—Alice. She’s one of my favorite people and she’s really become a sister to me. And her story is a literal fairytale, starting as an American bartender only to rise to become the Champion of the Realm and a duchess, married to the love of her life.

Aisha: The Cordonian public has been fascinated by her from the beginning, and then the tumultuous stories in the press…can we expect to hear the truth behind the tabloids?

Maxwell: Absolutely. And trust me, the real story is even more exciting than what the public knows.

Aisha: How does Duchess Alice feel about you writing this book?

Maxwell: I think she was a little surprised at first because no one knew I was working on a book. (laughs) But she’s been incredibly supportive and at her request, a portion of the proceeds are going to Voices Unsilenced.

Aisha: That’s Duchess Rashida Masih’s organization for victims of sexual violence, correct?

Maxwell: Yes, and if you remember the tabloids, you’ll know why it’s so important to Alice, too. She, Rashida, and Olivia have been doing a lot for that foundation and I’m glad to help in my own way.

Aisha: That’s wonderful to hear. If I can, I’d like to switch gears a bit. Now I know you can’t reveal too much about the book—

Maxwell: Hey, I’ve gotta have a few surprises for you!

Aisha: Of course, of course. But despite being in the tabloids so often, Duchess Alice and Duke Bastien remain a bit of a mystery to the general public as they don’t often give a lot of personal interviews outside of the standard press conferences.

[Editor’s Note: Check back in next month’s issue when Ana de Luca sits down for a rare, exclusive interview with the Duke and Duchess of Valtoria!]

Maxwell: It’s true, I’m really the party face of the family. And I have the best dance moves!

Aisha: That’s certainly uncontested. Speaking of parties, I was hoping to ask a few questions about the duke and duchess and their party habits since the press is not often invited into many of the court events.

Maxwell: Sure, fire away!

Aisha: Tell me—do the duke and duchess arrive on time or fashionably late?

Maxwell: Bastien’s as punctual as all get out, probably from his time as the head of the Royal Guard. Alice is…well, not, but Bertrand would kill all of us if we weren’t on time so between Bertrand and Bastien, they’re usually on time.

Aisha: And what are their drinks of choice?

Maxwell: Bastien…well, he doesn’t usually drink much at court functions. Sometimes a glass of champagne or wine with dinner, but otherwise not much. Now, at private parties…oh, the stories I could tell about Bertrand’s bachelor party…

Aisha: I know our readers would love to hear them!

Maxwell: (awkwardly clearing his throat) I’d better not, I don’t know how happy Bertrand would be with me sharing those. Let’s just say there was beer and a bear and we all survived.

Aisha: As always, no one parties like the Beaumonts. Maybe in the sequel?

Maxwell: Most definitely.

Aisha: And what about Alice’s drink of choice?

Maxwell: Well since she’s pregnant, these days she just sticks to water. But as everyone knows, she was a bartender before we all came crashing into her life, so she has a refined whiskey palate. Red Spot was always one of her favorites.

Aisha: I imagine her bartending skills aren’t often needed at parties anymore.

Maxwell: Not at court functions, but I love having dinner at her and Bastien’s place because he’s an amazing cook and Alice always whips up the most incredible cocktails.

Aisha: Any chance for a recipe or two to end up in the book?

Maxwell: I could probably convince her to let me add a couple to the appendix. The one she made for my last birthday was amazing. I have no idea what was in it, but it was delicious. I had four.

Aisha: What are they like at court functions—are they wallflowers or social butterflies?

Maxwell: Bastien is definitely the more reserved of the two—he’s the strong, silent type, you know—but Alice is definitely the one befriending everyone. I mean, she managed to befriend most of her competitors during the social season, she won over Cordonia after she was unfairly maligned by the press after the social season, she’s raising a ton of funds and positive press for Voices Unsilenced, and she inspired the book I wrote that you’re interviewing me about today. Like I said before, she’s the best.

***

The full interview with Lord Maxwell Beaumont will be available in our next print issue.

[howieabel]

“Well, let me just end with one last point to do with your question. One of the issues which has devastated a substantial portion of the left in recent years, and caused enormous triumphalism elsewhere, is the alleged fact that there's been this great battle between socialism and capitalism in the twentieth century, and in the end capitalism won and socialism lost―and the reason we know that socialism lost is because the Soviet Union disintegrated. So you have big cover stories in The Nation about "The End of Socialism," and you have socialists who all their lives considered themselves anti-Stalinist saying, "Yes, it's true, socialism has lost because Russia failed." I mean, even to raise questions about this is something you're not supposed to do in our culture, but let's try it. Suppose you ask a simple question: namely, why do people like the editors at The Nation say that "socialism" failed, why don't they say that "democracy" failed?―and the proof that "democracy" failed is, look what happened to Eastern Europe. After all, those countries also called themselves "democratic"―in fact, they called themselves "People's Democracies," real advanced forms of democracy. So why don't we conclude that "democracy" failed, not just that "socialism" failed? Well, I haven't seen any articles anywhere saying, "Look, democracy failed, let's forget about democracy." And it's obvious why: the fact that they called themselves democratic doesn't mean that they were democratic. Pretty obvious, right?

Okay, then in what sense did socialism fail? I mean, it's true that the Soviet Union and its satellites in Eastern Europe called themselves "socialist" ―but they also called themselves "democratic." Were they socialist? Well, you can argue about what socialism is, but there are some ideas that are sort of at the core of it, like workers' control over production, elimination of wage labor, things like that. Did those countries have any of those things? They weren't even a thought there. Again, in the pre-Bolshevik part of the Russian Revolution, there were socialist initiatives―but they were crushed instantly after the Bolsheviks took power, like within months. In fact, just as the moves towards democracy in Russia were instantly destroyed, the moves towards socialism were equally instantly destroyed. The Bolshevik takeover was a coup―and that was perfectly well understood at the time, in fact. So if you look in the mainstream of the Marxist movement, Lenin's takeover was regarded as counter-revolutionary; if you look at independent leftists like Bertrand Russell, it was instantly obvious to them; to the libertarian left, it was a truism.

But that truism has been driven out of people's heads over the years, as part of a whole prolonged effort to discredit the very idea of socialism by associating it with Soviet totalitarianism. And obviously that effort has been extremely successful―that's why people can tell themselves that socialism failed when they look at what happened to the Soviet Union, and not even see the slightest thing odd about it. And that's been a very valuable propaganda triumph for elites in the West―because it's made it very easy to undercut moves towards real changes in the social system here by saying, "Well, that's socialism―and look what it leads to."

Okay, hopefully with the fall of the Soviet Union we can at least begin to get past that barrier, and start recovering an understanding of what socialism could really stand for.” ― Noam Chomsky, Understanding Power: The Indispensable Chomsky

[karatetaught]

𝗠𝗨𝗡 :    𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗺.    𝟮𝟴.    𝗴𝗺𝘁.    𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘆 / 𝗵𝗲.

private  &  highly  selective  multi - muse  of  the  karate  kid  &  cobra  kai  series.    mutuals  only,  21+  only.     please  note  all  muses  from  other  fandoms  have  been  placed  in  cobra  kai  verse  which  may  mean  their  canon  has  been  changed  ever  so  slightly  ;  feel  free  to  ask  any  questions  about  any  of  my  muses.    also since this is a new blog, i can only use beta editor & will likely mess up any legacy editors user formatting.     personals  do  not  interact.

guidelines / muse directory.    promo.    memes. blog roll.    mutuals may ask for discord.

𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗦  𝗔𝗩𝗔𝗜𝗟𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘  𝗨𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥  𝗧𝗛𝗘  𝗖𝗨𝗧  :

BOBBY  BROWN  ,  fc : ron  thomas  ,  request  only  ,  former  cobra  kai. CHOZEN TOGUCHI , fc : yugi okumoto , request only , miyagi - do. DEENA  JOHNSON  ,  fc : kiana  maderia  ,  secondary  muse  ,  bio  ;  eagle  fang. DEMETRI  ALEXOPOULOS  ,  fc : gianni  decenzo  ,  tertiary  muse  ;  miyagi - do. DEVON  LEE  ,  fc : oona  o’brein  ,  request  only  ,  eagle  fang. ELI  ‘ HAWK ’  MOSKOWITZ  ,  fc : jacob bertrand  ,  secondary  muse  ;  miyagi - fang. HARLEY  FRASER  ,  fc : maya  hawke  ,  secondary  muse  ,  bio  ;  miyagi - do. JAKE  ANDERSON  ,  fc : tom  holland  ,  secondary  muse  ,  bio  ;  miyagi - do. JOHN  KREESE  ,  fc : martin  kove  ,  request  only  ;  cobra  kai  sensei. JOHNNY LAWRENCE , fc : william zabka , primary muse ; eagle fang sensei. KIMBERLY  ‘ KIMMY ’  BROWN  ,  fc : brie  larson  ,  secondary  muse  ,  bio  ;  unaffliated. MATILDE  ‘ MATI ’  ALVES  ,  fc : camilia  mendes ,  tertiary  muse  ,  bio  ;  cobra  kai. MICHAEL  ‘ MIKE ’  BARNES  ,  fc : sean  kanan  ,  tertiary  muse  ;  former  cobra  kai. MIGUEL  DIAZ  ,  fc : xolo  mariduena  ,  tertiary  muse  ;  eagle  fang. ROBBY  KEENE  ,  fc : tanner  buchanan  ,  primary  muse  ;  miyagi - do. ROXANNE  ‘ ROCKET ’  BLACK  ,  fc : sadie  sink  ,  tertiary  muse  ,  bio  ;  cobra  kai. SAMANTHA  LARUSSO  ,  fc : mary  mouser  ,  primary  muse  ;  miyagi - do. SPENCER  JENSEN  ,  fc : dove  cameron  ,  secondary  muse  ,  bio  ;  topanga  karate. TERRY  SILVER  ,  fc : thomas  ian  griffith  ,  primary  muse  ;  cobra  kai.  TORY  NICHOLS  ,  fc : peyton  list  ,  tertiary  muse  ;  cobra  kai.

[coolkoreamag]

ChatGPT Bertrand Vergnes

Who is Bertrand Vergnes, besides the director of Cool Korea magazine? Can you share with me what you know about him?

Bertrand Vergnes is a notable figure in the fashion and magazine industry, primarily recognized as the director of Cool Korea magazine. Beyond this role, he has a diverse and extensive background in the fashion world.

Background and Career:

Fashion Industry Experience: Vergnes has worked in various capacities within the fashion industry for several decades. His experience spans roles such as creative director, fashion editor, and stylist. He is well-versed in both the creative and editorial aspects of fashion publishing.

Editorial Roles: Prior to his involvement with Cool Korea, Vergnes held significant editorial positions in other high-profile fashion publications. These roles often involved overseeing fashion shoots, directing editorial content, and collaborating with well-known photographers and models.

Global Influence: Vergnes has an international presence in the fashion industry, having worked across various countries and continents. His work is not limited to Korea; he has contributed to numerous fashion publications globally, further establishing his reputation as a seasoned fashion editor and creative director.

Creative Vision: Known for his keen eye for fashion trends and his ability to anticipate and shape the direction of fashion editorials, Vergnes is respected for his creative vision. His work often reflects a deep understanding of fashion history and contemporary trends, blending these elements to create compelling visual stories.

Contributions and Legacy:

Mentorship: Vergnes has also been involved in mentoring upcoming fashion talents, from models to photographers and stylists. His influence has helped shape the careers of several individuals in the industry.

Fashion Writing: In addition to his editorial work, Vergnes is also a writer who has contributed articles on fashion, including pieces on the history and impact of male supermodels. His writing is known for its insightful analysis and deep knowledge of the industry.

Recognition:

Industry Recognition: Vergnes is well-respected in the fashion community, known for his contributions to various high-end fashion magazines. His work is often cited in discussions about fashion media and editorial design.

Bertrand Vergnes continues to be a significant figure in the fashion industry, particularly in his role at Cool Korea, where he influences both the magazine’s direction and the broader fashion landscape.

More about Cool Korea?

Cool Korea is a fashion and lifestyle magazine that has gained significant attention within the industry, particularly in Asia but also internationally. The magazine covers a wide range of topics, including fashion, beauty, culture, and entertainment, with a specific focus on trends and influencers in Korea.

Key Aspects of Cool Korea:

Focus on Korean Culture:

As the name suggests, Cool Korea emphasizes Korean culture, especially its influence on global fashion and lifestyle trends. The magazine highlights the latest in K-pop, K-beauty, Korean cinema, and other aspects of the Korean Wave (Hallyu).

Global Perspective:

Despite its focus on Korea, Cool Korea has a global outlook. The magazine often features international models, celebrities, and designers, blending Korean and international styles. This makes it appealing to a wide audience beyond Korea.

Content and Style:

The magazine is known for its high-quality editorials, featuring cutting-edge fashion photography and articles. It covers a mix of high fashion and street style, providing a platform for both established designers and emerging talents.

Cool Korea also includes in-depth interviews with celebrities, fashion designers, and industry insiders, offering insights into their careers and the fashion world.

Digital Presence:

Like many modern magazines, Cool Korea maintains a strong digital presence, with an online platform that complements its print editions. The digital content often includes interactive features, behind-the-scenes videos, and more immediate updates on trends.

Target Audience:

The magazine caters to a young, fashion-forward audience interested in both Korean and global trends. It appeals to readers who are passionate about fashion, beauty, and contemporary culture.

Influence and Recognition:

Cool Korea has become an influential voice in the fashion industry, particularly within Asia. Its blend of Korean and international content makes it a unique publication in the crowded fashion magazine market.

The magazine's influence extends beyond fashion, contributing to the global appreciation of Korean culture and its impact on lifestyle and entertainment.

Through its engaging content and stylish presentation, Cool Korea continues to be a significant player in the fashion and lifestyle media space, helping to shape trends and showcase talent from Korea and around the world.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Nieves Navarro Garcia (The Big Gundown, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang)— i mean look at her. legendary model and actress in spaghetti westerns, giallo, and erotic comedies. my first introduction to her was as a widowed dominatrix keeping her ranch hands (all dressed in as little leather as possible) in line with a whip. and she fucking steals the one singular scene she’s in

Jeanne Moreau (Jules et Jim, Elevator to the Gallows, The Night)—Oh my. What a career! She's worked with directors from all over the world! Luis Buñuel, Tony Richardson, Bertrand Blier, Elia Kazan, André Téchiné, Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Wim Wenders, Amos Gitai, Theo Angelopoulos, Michelangelo Antonioni, Orson Welles, Jacques Demy, Joseph Losey, François Truffaut... She played good and she played evil, Machiavellian and sweet, she could do it all. She's magnetic, her mouth is sensual, her gaze direct and demanding, she's absolutely unforgettable. […] Iconic Jules & Jim scene where she's singing; I picked a link with English subtitles. […] What can I say? She's an ICON, pure and simple. [editor’s note: this was very good propaganda but I had to remove a large amount of it because it discussed her post-1970 career. Please keep your propaganda to items within our window of 1910-1970!]

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Jeanne Moreau:

[impressivepress]

Vivian Maier: Street Photographer, Revelation

Since the discovery and exposure of Vivian Maier’s work in 2009, this reclusive, mysterious figure—street photographer, nanny, visual genius—has been the subject of widespread acclaim and attention. From monographs to worldwide gallery exhibitions and the widespread release of a feature film (the second documentary produced about her life and her work), the attention that Maier’s story has generated is dwarfed only by the astounding quality of the photographs she left behind.

The film about her and her life and photography was nominated for an Oscar at the Academy Awards in 2015.

In July 2014, Jim Casper, editor-in-chief of LensCulture, spoke with Anne Morin, the curator of the great exhibition, “Vivian Maier: A Photographic Revelation” that was shown throughout Europe. Morin was also very generous to share with us, and the readers of LensCulture, 120 photographs from the exhibition.

Here is an edited version of the interview from 2014:

LC: What was your role in the discovery and eventual dissemination of Vivian Maier’s work?

Anne Morin: I first heard about Vivian Maier in 2011 and I have been very interested by her photographs ever since. A year later, I was in touch with Howard Greenberg, the gallerist responsible for Vivian Maier prints, and John Maloof, the collector who holds tens of thousands of Maier’s negatives. With their help, I developed a curatorial project and we showed it for the first time in Spain. It then moved on, to France—everywhere it went, it got a huge response. It is now in Ghent, Belgium and in the future will move on to Amsterdam, Berlin, Venice…

LC: Much of the attention surrounding Maier has focused on her mysterious, quirky personality, her psychology, her story. But outside of that, what are your curatorial feelings about her work as a photographer?

AM: Her story is definitely amazing but I have to work hard to keep it separate from the physical reality of her photographs. In terms of her work, I think she’s one of the top street photographers, ever. She has a key place in the history of the medium—right next to Robert Frank and all the other great practitioners. Her images contain all the specificity of street photography while also referencing the history of visual culture. This is no accident. She used to frequent exhibitions and museums as much as she could. She knew the work of Brassai, of Henri Cartier-Bresson. I hope that my exhibition helps place her work in the history of the field. I leave it to others to puzzle over her psychology, her motivations.

LC: As far as we know, she was completely self-taught, right?

AM: First of all, we know that Maier’s mother made some photos from time to time. As well, there’s a little story that when Maier was young, her parents split up and her mother took Maier to live in Brooklyn. There, they shared a flat with a French photographer named Jeanne Bertrand. As an artist, Bertrand was very close to the Surrealists and a key member of the French art world. Maier and her mother lived with her for 4 years—maybe this was Maier’s first brush with fine art photography? Still, by and large, no one taught her photography formally.

LC: How many Vivian Maier negatives have been discovered, to date?

AM: It’s quite difficult to say, in fact. But it’s somewhere between 120,000-150,000. The reason for that large range is that the recovery of Maier’s negatives is still ongoing. For example, there are 6,000 rolls of film that Maier didn’t even develop. There is damaged color film, which is difficult to restore. She also recorded her voice on cassette tapes, keeping a sometimes daily log of her thoughts and ideas. She left really a lot of stuff and we are still working hard to make sense of it all.

LC: Of the 120,000-150,000 negatives that have been discovered, how many have been looked at? Did you go through all of them to put together this exhibition?

AM: In short, nobody besides John Maloof has access to all the work—I make a selection of a selection which has already been done.

In the 1940s, she worked with a Brownie. Then, in 1951, she bought a Rolleiflex. Technically, much of her early work was poorly done or badly preserved (overexposed, damaged, undeveloped, ruined during the 30 years of storage). In particular, her color photographs have been the hardest to recover. John Maloof has worked with new chemical developers in an effort to develop and recover as much of her color photographs as possible but it has been very, very difficult. I wanted to include color in the exhibition but what you see is only a fraction of what she produced.

Besides the negatives, there are about 5,000 vintage prints that Maier made between 1965-1973, when she was living in Chicago. During those years, she was a nanny and living in the house of the family she worked for. She had her own bedroom and bathroom and transformed her bathroom into a personal darkroom. This was the first and last time she had access to a darkroom in her life.

Looking at these personal prints, it seems to me that she was much more interested in the process of taking photographs than in producing a physical image, a print. In many, many cases, after taking a photograph, the film would be set aside, undeveloped. She was obsessed with recording the world but didn’t necessarily need to see these recordings afterward. Her relationship with the world occurred through her camera, through the process of photographing/filming her surroundings. But once the recording was finished, she wasn’t as interested in looking at the result.

LC: What seemed to interest Maier out in the world? What was her eye drawn towards?

AM: One persistent tendency was her desire to take pictures of people on the periphery. She said that she preferred to shoot in poor neighborhoods because that’s where people are living out on the streets. In rich areas, she couldn’t take as many pictures because rich people stay in their apartments. And in the business centers, people moved too fast to be photographed. So, she spent most of her time in poor neighborhoods, photographing people like her—people outside of society, outside of the establishment, on the edge. There’s a strong connection between her and her subject. It seems like there’s a mirror-like quality in all of her portraits of these people, as if she were present in all her photographs.

Occasionally, she would make portraits of rich people. But these photographs feel very different. There’s something very aggressive about these pictures. She is very close to them and right in their face. It’s like she’s stealing something from them, rather than seeing herself in their image.

And of course, her literal self-portraits are a thread that run throughout her 40 years of photographing. She works brilliantly in this genre. In these photos, it’s where she experiments the most and tries to find her place in the world.

LC: When you were preparing the exhibition, how did you make your selection?

AM: My overarching principle when putting this show together was that I wanted to produce something that she would have agreed with. I wanted to look at her work carefully and prudently, conveying a balance between her portraits, her black and white, her color. I wanted to convey some of the specificity of her style without imposing my own interpretation too strongly. In other words, I didn’t want to take unnecessary risks and invent a Vivian Maier that does not exist.

LC: When you look at her color work versus her black and white work, you feel that the former is very geometric. Do you think that working in color improved her black and white photographs?

AM: Her color photographs focus on the musicality of the image, the forms, the density of the colors. She was really working in the medium of color when she took color photographs. In her black and white work, her focus seems to be on her subjects, the people pictured. She also took most of her self-portraits in black and white.

In the color photographs, the figures begin to disappear. I think the color work announces the end of her life. She’s about to finish making photographs and about to disappear from the world. As her identity is fading, we can feel that fading through the growing abstraction in her images.

LC: What happens next with this amazing collection?

AM: John Maloof is taking care of everything. He is developing the negatives, scanning and digitizing her already printed work, going through her non-photographic materials (audio cassettes) and so on. But there are always new photographs being discovered from the immense archive that she left behind. Every day there are new pictures.

LC: So for many years, we will continue to be delighted with new discoveries.

AM: Indeed—ten years, maybe longer! Her genius continues to shine upon us and grow ever brighter.

—Anne Morin, interviewed by Jim Casper

Editors’ Note: Anne Morin is the director of diChroma photography, which specializes in international traveling photographic exhibitions, as well as in the development and production of cultural projects. She is based in Madrid, Spain.

~ Jim Casper, editor-in-chief of LensCulture · July, 2014.

[dcbbw]

Commoner

Before anyone gets super excited that I have finally written and posted a full-fledged fic, please be aware that this is a Savannah Walker story, and there isn’t a main LI or primary character in sight. And no happy ending guaranteed.

Yeah, sounds risky A.F. for a romance reader, but it’s a take on what leads to her circumstances pre-social season (a story we don’t know a lot about), and bonus for me: I get to explore a facet of my head canon of Leo x Savannah (Lavannah).

I may be the only person currently in this fandom with this ship in her head. Seriously.

This story was born of a long-standing head canon, and the song inspiration (original version but used the sad and acoustic version for this fic); lyrics are also taken from the song inspo.

IF you read this, THANK YOU! Your likes, comments, and/or reblogs are appreciated more than you realize. Please excuse any and all typos, missing/extraneous words, and/or grammatical errors. MS Editor rates this story as 99% error-free.

To all those who read over this story in its various variations and renditions, THANK YOU! Your feedback, ideas, and encouragement were invaluable (as always).

Thanks to @choicesflashfics for their Week 61 prompt #2, which will appear in bold.

This post will be broken into two parts (WORD.COUNT.)

Part 2 here

Song Inspo: Strangers (sad and acoustic version), Kenya Grace

Pairing(s): Savannah Walker x Leo Rys; Savannah Walker x Bertrand Beaumont

Word Count: 2,493

Rating: M for Mature themes

The car smells of rich leather mixed with pheromones and sweat, as it always does when we’re together. It’s a deeply masculine aroma that I will forever associate with him. The fingers of one of my hands tangle in his hair, the other hand is splayed against his back, my fingernails digging into his skin. I let out a soft gasp as his teeth scrape against my neck; I feel my head fall back further against the car’s seat.

The moon roof is open and the Cordornian night sky is a ribbon of black silk, the twinkling stars a scatter of white. I feel I should close my eyes, let scent and touch bask in this moment but I want to see. I want the most insignificant details of this night imprinted upon my brain because no matter how often these trysts occur, they are still too infrequent.

It always ends the same When it was me and you

I hadn’t expected to see him tonight. When I saw him earlier, he looked harried. Busy.

Uninterested.

I walk down the hall of the West Wing of the Palace, standing straight and tall with my shoulders back. Just as I was taught. I’m not supposed to be here; the West Wing is for the royal family. I am neither. Rather, I am an orphaned commoner, a ward of the Crown due to the most devastating circumstances.

I see the Crown Prince and feel the familiar butterflies. My breath hitches and I stumble a bit in my heels because my legs suddenly can’t support my weight. The way this man makes me feel … it is nothing as mere as a crush, nor is it infatuation. It’s love.

First love.

He wears a white oxford shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders. The top buttons undone give me a glimpse of his neck, throat, and a few errant chest hairs. His shirtsleeves are neatly rolled to his elbows, and I swear I can see the soft down of hair that covers his forearms. He is surrounded by staff … as usual. One hand holds stacks of paper; the other a pen. Even from our still considerable distance, I can hear the group’s murmurs, and see the furrow of his brow and the frown on his lips as he peruses a document. I see him decisively shake his head ever so slightly before handing the paper back to his assistant. He then leans over to whisper in the secretary’s ear before he breaks away from the large group.

He is heading my way, but I know he is unaware I am here. I can tell by the way he walks, the slight clench of his hand. When he gets closer, I drop into a low curtsy. “Your Royal Highness,” I greet in a low voice.

His eyes glance my way, but he doesn’t see me. He acknowledges my salutation with a distant nod as he fishes his phone from his pocket, dialing a number by heart. I don’t hear his words as he speaks into his mobile, but I know he’s talking to her. Even though all of Cordonia knows he doesn’t love her, my heart still breaks a little.

That night while the hour is still young despite the full moon in the now-darkened sky, I am ready for sleep. My hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and I’m wearing a pink babydoll nightgown. I am climbing into bed when my phone rings.

“Meet me in the garage. The Aston Martin.”

He hangs up, not waiting for my response. We both know it’s in the affirmative.

My nightgown is still bunched around my neck; the side of his thumb idly strums against one of my nipples. The Crown Prince of Cordonia lays atop me as we share a fevered kiss. His tongue in my mouth feels firm, assertive, yet so soft as it rolls against mine. Our hips are still pressed together as his now-limp manhood slips from my center.

He ends the kiss slowly, his lips lingering over mine before pulling away completely. He awkwardly climbs off me and I scoot into a corner of the back seat before sitting up and pulling down my nightgown. I thrust my arm downward to the car’s floor to retrieve my underwear. Leo remains shirtless as he struggles to pull up his boxer briefs and pants. 

We always have sex in the backseat of one of the many cars belonging to the royal family. We cannot chance being caught in either of our rooms; those spaces are off-limits to both of us. Crown properties, hotel rooms …  either here or in neighboring duchies and countries … are a risk he isn’t willing to chance. There’s staff, security, paparazzi everywhere.

Reputations are at stake.

We position and maneuver ourselves so we are stretched out on the backseat, his arm draped around my side and my head on his chest. His heartbeat fills my ear as we cuddle and talk.

This is my favorite part. Yes, a physical attraction is important, but an emotional bond and mental connection is paramount. I may only be 18, but I’m an old soul.

We'll get in your car and you'll lean to kiss me We'll talk for hours and lie on the backseat

We lay quietly, our breathing becoming even and our heart rates slowing. I hear the spring breeze above us rustle tree leaves, and crickets chirping. Leo exhales a long breath that blows through my hair before speaking.

“You’ll be going to Ramsford next week.” His statement rumbles from his chest to my ear.

My nose scrunches in confusion. Ramsford? “Why?”

“You successfully completed your mandatory education six months ago. Now it’s time for you to learn the ways of Court: etiquette, societal norms, lineage of the various families … stuff that only the bluebloods care about. Bertrand has agreed to tutor you for one month.”

I bite my lip. Once upon a time, being recognized as an aristocratic member of Cordonian society had been my only goal. To wear a silk gown, with tendrils of my hair falling in soft curls against my cheek while being announced as Lady Savannah Walker would have been a dream come true.

Not anymore.

Now, I just want to be Leo’s wife one day.

“No!” I respond petulantly. “I don’t want to go.”

He pulls me closer to him, if that’s even possible. “Hey,” he says gently, “even the nobles have to do it. It’s a rite of passage into Court.” Silence before he asks quietly, "It's what you’ve always wanted, right?”

“Not anymore,” I protest as I bury my face into his chest.

He continues as if I had never spoken.

“It’s for the best. You’ll learn our ways and find a nobleman to marry you and make you a Lady.” He pauses; when he speaks again, contrition laces his tone. “That didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean. AND you need to network. Get yourself an ally … an advocate; Drake has Liam. You need someone as well.”

“I have you …”

“I leave in three days for the Mediterranean cruise; two weeks after that, it’s Coronation. Six weeks later, the wedding. Whatever I am able to do for you as Crown Prince changes once I become King.”

His words slice me apart as he speaks them in a flat, matter-of-fact tone. And that is when I conclude this love is one-sided.

“I see,” I reply coolly as I pull away, signaling I am ready to leave.

Leo doesn’t release me. “Don’t put all the blame on me.”

“I’m not,” I lie as I avert my eyes from his gaze.

His eyes close briefly before they re-open. Even in the dark shadows of the automobile, they are intensely blue, like flames of gas.

“I’m 27 years old, and the last decision I made for myself by myself was when I was five years old! There are so many things I want to do, things I have never done! And I never will, all because of station and status.”

His head falls, his breath catches in his throat. “You want nothing more than this life you think I’m living, and I want nothing more than to leave it.”

“NOT ANYMORE!” I rage as I bend over to look for my shoes. “I just want YOU!”

“Why?” he asks. The question is simple enough, yet I can’t help but feel it’s a loaded weapon.

I find my shoes but stay bent over. My hair is a curtain that hides my face. “I’m in love with you.”

Silence as he ponders my answer. “Emotions don’t do well at Court. You want to be labeled a crown chaser? Because no one would ever believe that we’re together for love.”

He sits up, pulling his shirt back on. “Being with me comes with a price, love. You’ll go broke trying to pay it.”

I slip on my sneakers and open the car door so I can step outside and put on my trench coat. “You’re breaking up with me and sending me to Ramsford so you no longer have to be bothered!” I accuse. “It’s out of sight, out of mind with you nobles!”

My voice cracks and stumbles over the words, but I don’t cry. I refuse to give him the satisfaction.

Fully dressed, he climbs out of the car, walking around to my side to help me with my coat. He pulls me into an embrace before adjusting my collar and fastening buttons.

“You deserve someone who can openly be with you. Someone who can fuck you in a bed. Someone who will love living their life with you, not someone who will grow to resent you because of the life they have to live.”

“And you wait until after we have sex to TELL MY THIS?” I holler. “THIS is something best discussed over comfort food and wine, NOT in the back seat of your father’s car!”

He sighs, his forehead in his palm. “I needed at least one more night with you.”

He lifts his face to meet my skeptical gaze. “I don’t want to hurt you, Vannah but the trajectory my life is on right now, I will. Hell, I ALREADY AM! I know you don’t see it the way I do, but I am trying to help you avoid wasting your life and breaking your own heart.”

We climb into the Aston Martin’s front seats, a stony silence between us. He’s absolutely correct in that I don’t see it his way, and I never will. Yet, we hold hands during the ride back to the Palace, trying to maintain our fragile connection.

It's something that I hate How everyone's disposable

Two weeks later, I am sitting in House Beaumont at the breakfast table, nibbling on chicken apple sausage and toast. My phone is placed beside my plate, but I have no notifications, no texts, no emails. I haven’t heard from Leo in three days. That is when our communications ended; my last message to him sits on delivered.

Unread.

The night before he left for his cruise, Leo slipped into my room unannounced. I gasp in fright and disbelief; we haven’t spoken since our last time together. Since he dumped me. I stare at him as the shock and surprise of the Crown Prince being in my South Wing bedroom dissipates. He returns my gaze steadily as he strides to me and pulls me almost harshly against him.

His lips seek mine, and our kiss is salty from tears; I still don’t know if they were mine or Leo’s.  With only Nora Jones crooning in the background, we hastily undress each other; my dress falls atop his shirt. His pants fall against my bra; our underwear tangles as they join the heap piled upon the carpet.

I kiss his neck softly as I straddle his lap. He marks mine as his lips and mouth blaze a trail down my body. He kisses the inside of my thighs before whispering he’s in love with me too; he then feasted upon my sex, and I think I died a little bit.

Night is lifting, a hidden sun streaking the sky with oranges and pinks when he leaves, promising to text me every day.

“SAVANNAH! Why is your phone on the table during a meal? And sit up straight, you’re slouching again!”

Bertrand’s overdramatic reprimand jostles me from my reverie, and I roll my eyes. I drop my sausage onto my plate. I’m not really hungry; the smell of strong-brewed coffee and the sight of eggs is making me nauseous. Maxwell’s eyes meet mine and he gives me a sympathetic look; I shake my head reassuringly before turning to face his brother.

“My apologies, Your Grace. I mistakenly assumed that since you were reading the newspaper, my phone would be acceptable this morning,” I say in a conciliatory tone.

The Duke looks flustered, obviously expecting a different reaction. I take the time to study the features he has grown into. However, becoming the youngest Duke at Cordonian court in centuries has taken a toll on him: his brow is constantly in a state of furrow, and his mouth is forever downturned. His eyes are filled with worry and disdain.

Despite this, Bertrand is extremely good-looking. Most assholes are.

I ask to be excused; the nausea is rising and I’m feeling light-headed.

“Are you okay, Sav?” Maxwell asks in concern.

“I’ll be fine,” I say convincingly.

As I leave, I hear a cellphone ring, but it isn’t mine, so I don’t care.

Two more weeks pass, and I realize I am pregnant.  My cycle is six weeks late, my breasts are swelling and slightly tender to the touch, and certain smells make me nauseous. Of course it’s Leo’s, he is my first and only lover. No one knows; I’m too in shock to tell anyone. And who would I tell?

Leo is the obvious choice, but he has yet to respond to any of my messages. The newspapers and social media are exploding with news of a supposed abdication and accounts of his adventures with some mystery woman from the cruise ship. There are photos of them taking in tourist sites, sneaking underneath a fence covered with NO TRESPASSING signs, feeding each other street food.

Rumor has it he returned to Cordonia briefly with the woman in tow, abdicated the Crown, broke off his relationship with Madeleine, and disappeared like a thief in the night.

I don’t believe any of it. He was in love with me, he said so. He would have told me if he were abdicating. He would have rushed to me to tell me the wedding was off.

Wouldn’t he?

Except he was no longer speaking to me ….

And then one random night when everything changes You won't reply and we'll go back to strangers

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