#high-society paris

[resplendentoutfit]

A Night at the Opera, Part II

What to wear?

From The Art of Dressing Well: “The hair should be dressed as for a large evening party, and artificial flowers, jewels, feathers, ribbons, or any style of head-dress peculiar to the fashion may be worn.” “Jewelry must be worn according to the dress, but more is allowable than on most occasions, and the glittering gems are very effective in the brilliant light of a superb opera house.”

James Tissot (French, 1836-1902) • La Mondain (The Lady of Fashion) • 1883-85 • Private collection

There are myths about Victorian women's dress requirements that must be debunked. Firstly, only the ultra-rich could afford to have enough outfits to accommodate the many activities of a busy day. The reality was that women added and shed certain accessories for different activities, without changing their dress five times a day. If she was wearing an afternoon dress but going for a walk, she wouldn't necessarily run to change into a specific walking dress but instead find a hat and parasol and perhaps take off her shawl and replace it with a cape.

Likewise if she were to be invited to the opera. The dress she would choose wouldn't be one that could only be worn to the opera. Instead, the Victorian women would choose her most formal dress, add her best jewelry, and if she had them, wear an opera cape and bonnet. If she did not possess the latter, she could borrow them or make do with her best coat. That woman may not have been among the fashionistas in the audience, as described below, but maybe she enjoyed the opera and didn't care. I get a bit of pleasure imaging that at least a few women didn't give a toss about what others thought! This in spite of my interest in fashion history!

One source stated that it was typical for women (and perhaps men?) to dress according to where they sat but it was not elaborated upon. I assume the more expensive the seating, the fancier the dress.

“Well-dressed as well as handsome ladies are looked for in the audience of an opera, and it is out of harmony with the scene and surroundings to see sombre draperies, heavy bonnets, and dull faces. Ladies are supposed to be seen, as well as to see, and are often the most beautiful part of the display. They should not spoil the beauty of the auditorium by wrapping themselves in cloaks or shawls.” -The Art of Dressing Well

* Sorry, not all sources are cited, as I lost track by not keeping notes.

Part I is here.

[artdecoandmodernist]

George Barbier, L'Eau (Water) for Falbalas & Fanfreluches Almanach des Modes Prsentes Passes et Futures. 1924.

Hand-coloured, plate-signed pochoir from Falbalas & Fanfreluches: "Water", part of the "Four Elements" quatrain from Barbier's 1924 Almanac. "How far we have come" could be an apt subtitle with the revealing new bathing suits (or lack thereof), not to mention the streamlined turban, shown here midway in its evolution from Poiret's elaborate 1910-12 confection to the iconic flapper headband. The background reflection, so very stylized Art Nouveau in line, is a subtle reminder of the vast societal changes which transformed into the new permissive era over the span of a mere 20 years or so (reaching back to when the turn-of-the-century bathing costume was of serviceable and stout wool jersey, right down to the full-stockinged knees). This famous illustrated almanac series was produced from 1922 to 1926 only and depicted high-society life in Paris - the fashion, social and artistic capital of the early inter-war years. Each issue contained a small diary and notation section, an introduction by one of the leading social/cultural doyens of the day, a decorative cover and twelve fashion plates (one for each month of the year). (x)

[dbguidebook]

*Note: this post contains an affiliate link

Darling Bonnie's Forever Fav Film List: Mrs. Harris Goes To Paris. #Societythings

[phonte]

200 TRUNKS 200 VISIONARIES

PHONTE

[variousvicarious]

this is a fascinating story and a tragedy. down w/the prudes and the snobs and vain vapid status seeking masses.. wherever they are.

[chaos-has-theories]

Fun fact about me is that I'm obsessed with this song

One day I WILL write the time-travel spy shenanigans songfic that it beams into my mind

[good--merits-accumulated]

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT A THREE MUSKETEERS AU

[tim84]

17

Takes from the National Library of France -BNF- at the exhibition on Marcel Proust, famous writer from the early twentieth century, Paris !

I liked this show very much !

Très intéressant l’exposition sur Proust et sa Recherche du Temps Perdu !

Ce sont les derniers jours, courez-y ! Sinon vous pouvez aussi faire des chorégraphies pour Tik-Tok, sur le parvis de la bibliothèque, comme les petites jeunes… Faites ce que vous voulez, il y a le Batofar pas loin, il y a le MK2, le Burger King… Arrangez-vous !

Bisous 😘

TIM❤️THÉE

À Paris 13…

📸15 Janvier 2023

[luckykiwiii101]

What I Will Be Manifesting This Week :

What I will be manifesting this week:

- Desired Body (Revised)

- Always Waking Up In The Void State Aware

- That my 3D always conforms in under 48 hours

What Will I Be Doing?

- Embodying the state of having my desires.

- Fulfilling myself in imagination whenever I think of my desires.

- Fulfill through visualisation and inner conversations because that is what feels most natural to me.

What Will I Manifest In The Void State?

- Desired Face & Body but with some finishing touches. (doll - like, kind of like Karen smith from mean girls)

- Desired Height (5’7)

- Desired hair (doll - like)

- Desired Name (so elegant and pretty!)

- Desired Personality

- Desired voice (singing & speaking)

- Desired Vibe (90s Supermodel)

- Desired house (so luxurious)

- Desired room (Barbie x Gossip Girl themed)

- Desired Wardrobe (Blair Waldorf type outfits)

- iPhone 15 Pro + Desired Phone Case

- New Desired Biological Dad + New cousins & aunties etc to match

- Revising that my parents got married in Paris

- Rich Family

- All my family members are happy and have everything they want

- Privacy

- Pretty School Interior & Exterior

- Desired School Uniform

- My best friends to live on the same road as me and to have everything they want.

- Perfect mental and physical health for all my loved ones.

- Desired Career to start early (Supermodel for when i’m 17)

- Perfect Posture

- Perfect Eyesight

- Perfect Culinary & Baking Skills

- Fluency in French & Dutch

- Piano Prodigy + being able to play desired songs on it

- Good at playing electric guitar

- Changing Appearance of my family members

- Revising my family’s names

- Always knowing what to say

- Family celebrates holidays like Christmas & Halloween

- Revising my memories to align with my dream life

- Photographic & audiographic memory

- Perfect grades

- Whenever I listen to a song, it feels like listening to it for the first time again.

- Desired Items

- Immune from embarrassment + Revising that any past embarrassing moments never happened

- Life feels like the early 2010’s again

- Life feels like a Gossip Girl Episode (You know I had to XoXo 💋)

- Life feels like a barbie movie (like princess charm school or smthg idk)

- Looking like desired songs

- Can Choose To feel hot or cold

- airport and plane processes to be always extremely fun and quick for my family, friends and I

- Teen Wolf & The Originals to be put back on Netflix

- Season 3 of One Of Us Is Lying to come out

- Some cute things for my pets

- Always know what my pets want

- My whole family to have good taste in fashion

- Go on nice holidays every year

- Materialise something instantly by affirming for it x3

- Kind, Respectful & Secular Family

- Disgusting Roadman fashion in London to be stopped (ew if u saw that shizz)

- Fashion to go back to the 90s and early 2000s

- People At School Don’t annoy me

- High Spice Tolerance

- Always Wake Up Feeling Fresh & Energised

- Never late to school

- Desired ear piercings

- Scary Insects never come near me (especially spiders AAAAH!!!)

- I appreciate all aspects of life

- Never abuse my manifesting abilities

- Everything i manifest manifests 10x better than how i imagined

- Basically revising my whole entire life top to bottom

+ much more personal things

Things I Will Be Manifesting For The World:

- World Peace in all realities

- No wars in all realities

- Palestine being free in all realities

- World healing

- Healed society

- Righteous justice system

- No corrupt leaders

- No corrupt governments etc

- Healthcare everywhere is free

- People are good people

- People treat eachother with respect and kindness

Guys, I will definitely go into more depth when i actually materialise all these and post my success story. + Will probably post some picture proof of materialistic things in my home and outfits etc but not my face or anything personal like that.

I wrote everything i’m going to manifest on here because I know i’m not going to be bothered to type it all out when i’m actually living my dream life in the 3D 💀

Share what you guys will be manifesting and stick to your new story so we can all post our successes together!!!

[phenakistoskope]

There is a difference between Bollywood and Bombay cinema?

listen, subcontinental cinema began in bombay; the very first exhibition of the lumieres' cinematographe was held there in 1896, a few months after its debut in paris, 1895. this event predates the discursive existence of bollywood and hollywood. shree pundalik and raja harishchandra, the films that are generally considered the very first subcontinental features were also exhibited there first.

subcontinental cinema under british colonialism was produced in certain metropolitan centers such as lahore, hyderabad, and calcutta; bombay was just one of them. in 1947, when the indian nation state was formally inaugurated, the idea of a "national cinema" began forming, but given the cultural and linguistic heterogeneity of the indian union, this was quite untenable. regional popular cinemas flourished well into the 1950, 60s, 70s, and 80s and various art cinemas began taking shape alongside.

under the economy that i'm going to completely elide as "nehruvian "socialism"" bombay cinema focused on broadly "socialist" themes, think of awara (1951), do beegha zameen (1953), pyaasa (1957), all of which focus on inequality in indian economy and society from different perspectives. these films were peppered in with historical dramas, and adaptations from literature, but the original stories tended towards socialist realism. reformist films centering the family generally waxed poetic on the need to reform the family, but i haven't seen enough of these to really comment on them.

the biggest hit of the 70s, sholay (1975) was about two criminals, posited as heroes fighting gabbar singh who was attacking village folk. deewar (1975) also had two heroes, and the stakes were the two brothers' father's reputation; the father in question was a trade union leader accused of corruption.

"alternative cinema" included mani kaul's uski roti (1969) and Duvidha (1973) both of which were situated away from the city. then there's sayeed mirza and his city films, most of them set in bombay; arvind desai ki ajeeb dastan (1978), albert pinto ko gussa kyun aata hain (1980), saleem langre pe mat ro (1989) which are all extremely socialist films, albert pinto was set in the times of the bombay textiles strike of 1982 and literally quotes marx at one point. my point is that bombay cinema prior to liberalization was varied in its themes and representations, and it wasn't interested in being a "national cinema" very much, it was either interested in maximizing its domestic profits or being high art. note that these are all hindi language films, produced in bombay, or at least using capital from bombay. pyaasa, interestingly enough is set in calcutta, but it was filmed in bombay!

then we come to the 1990s, and i think the ur example of the bollywood film is dilwale dulhania le jayenge (1995) which, in stark contrast to the cinema that preceded it, centered two NRIs, simran and raj, who meet abroad, but epitomize their love in india, and go back to england (america?) as indians with indian culture. this begins a long saga of films originating largely in bombay that target a global audience of both indians and foreigners, in order to export an idea of india to the world. this is crucial for a rapidly neoliberalizing economy, and it coincides with the rise of the hindu right. gradually, urdu recedes from dialogue, the hindi is sankritized and cut with english, the indian family is at the center in a way that's very different for the social reform films of the 50s and 60s. dil chahta hai (2001) happens, where good little indian boys go to indian college, but their careers take them abroad. swadesh (2004) is about shah rukh khan learning that he's needed in india to solve its problems and leaves a job at NASA.

these are incidental, anecdotal illustrations of the differences in narrative for these separate eras of cinema, but let me ground it economically and say that bollywood cinema seeks investments and profits from abroad as well as acclaim and viewership from domestic audiences, in a way that the bombay cinema before it did not, despite the success of shree 420 (1955) in the soviet union; there were outliers, there always have been.

there's also a lot to say about narrative and style in bombay cinema (incredibly diverse) and bollywood cinema (very specific use of hollywood continuity, intercut with musical sequences, also drawn from hollywood). essentially, the histories, political economies, and aesthetics of these cinemas are too differentiated to consider them the same. bombay cinema is further internally differentiated, and that's a different story altogether. look, i could write a monograph on this, but that would take time, so let me add some reading material that will elucidate this without sounding quite as fragmented.

bollywood and globalization: indian popular cinema, nation, and diaspora, rini bhattacharya mehta and rajeshwari v. pandharipande (eds)

ideology of the hindi film: a historical construction, madhav prasad

the 'bollywoodization' of the indian cinema: cultural nationalism in a global arena, ashish rajadhyaksha

the globalization of bollywood: an ethnography of non-elite audiences in india, shakuntala rao

indian film, erik barnouw and s. krishnaswamy (this one's a straight history of subcontinental cinema up to the 60s, nothing to do with bollywood, it's just important because the word bollywood never comes up in it despite the heavy focus on hindi films from bombay, illustrating my point)

[gothhabiba]

[The Israeli burning of olive-tree groves] is familiar to thousands of Palestinian families. In the name of security, Israel systematically removes them from the land and erases their historic rootedness to this geographic place. For Palestinians, food and agriculture are not merely a pastime; they are a way of life. Without it, they’re rendered powerless economically, voiceless politically and devoid of their own cultural legacy. Yet that’s exactly why a sovereign and self-supporting food system is an early target of the Israel.

The Israeli occupation has transformed the Palestinian food system, converting it from a producer society to a consumer society, according to multiple West Bank residents. A tangled web of laws makes it difficult to sell crops or products like tahini for prices high enough to function as a sustainable income, and settlements continue to encroach upon Palestinian villages, seizing arable land and restricting access to crucial natural resources like water. Food is the first frontier of this conflict, and the Palestinian right to produce, sell and eat local food is a barometer for the future viability of the resistance movement.

[...] [In 1994, Israel and Palestine] signed the Paris Protocol to regulate economic interaction. The agreement hamstrung any hopes at Palestinian economic development, all but guaranteeing it would become dependent on Israel. It gave Israel full control of borders and put the sole customs clearinghouse under its jurisdiction. Goods entering and exiting Palestine remain subjected to Israeli taxes. Palestinian exports are heavily taxed while Israeli goods enter Palestine freely. Israeli goods, especially produce and food-related products like tahini and olive oil, flood the market with alternatives cheaper than local options.

What’s transpired as a result is the dramatic transformation of Palestine, says Raya Ziada, who founded an acroecology nonprofit based in Ramallah. “We depend on other people, whether that’s Israel or international aid, and we have to follow other people’s direction on producing food.”

Raya and others argue this is a deliberate act by the Israelis to handicap opposition to the occupation.

—Carly Graf, "Food Is the First Frontier of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict," 2019.

[artdecoandmodernist]

1924 George Barbier, Le Soir (Evening), Falbalas et fanfreluches: almanach des modes présentes, passées et futures.

"Art Deco Costumes By George Barbier" (Introduction by Madeleine Ginsburg, Curator, V&A Museum, London)

[dbguidebook]

High Street Culture. #Societythings

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Transferring schools after moving places for the 6th time, a new opportunity is given; a school for both boys and girls. With a new experience to be dealt with, will you survive a blooming rivalry with one of your classmates, a socialising society, and freshman year? Welcome to Voltaire High.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: Teen boys being teen boys (ykwim), swearing, violence

===

===

Chapter one: Mary Jane's

===

I polish my newly bought Mary Jane's, the last on my to-do list before heading to my new school. After I put them on, I get up to go in front of the mirror and fix my hair. I sigh deeply.

A new school, I think to myself. Again.

I grab my satchel and coat, put both on, and make my way outside.

I recently moved here, coming from Paris. I felt disappointed when we moved, feeling a part of me still in that city, but I knew I shouldn't feel that way. I should've expected it. It's now the sixth time we've moved places.

I live in a flat now with my parents and my cat, George, named after the member of The Beatles. My parents are both always at work, leaving me, most of the time, home alone.

I trip on a crack on the sidewalk, making me fall forward and almost hit a girl. She looks my age, has braided blonde hair and fluffy bangs. She just came out of the butcher's with a man. The man is very handsome, tall, neat, wearing a nicely tailored suit. He has a serious expression on his face.

He only glances at me before turning and ushering the blonde girl to follow him. She looks at me for a while more before turning and following the man.

I compose myself, feeling flustered, and I quickly brush it off. I continue to walk. In front of me, I noticed the two people I saw only a few seconds ago. The man walks off, and the girl stands still in her place. I purse my lips, wondering if I should come up to her. I did.

"Is that your father? He seems strict, but I'm only basing off my experience." I say as I stand next to her. She looks at me, a bit surprised. I wouldn't blame her.

"No. He's my brother. He's strict, yes. And it's very annoying." She furrows her brows a bit and groans. I chuckle.

"I'm Y/N. Where are you headed?" I put my hand out for her to shake.

"I'm Michèle. I'm headed to school, actually." She shakes my hand and smiles.

"Oh? Which school? I might be going to the same one."

"Voltaire. I hope you are. Otherwise, I'd be walking in, not knowing anyone but my brother." She cringes at the thought. I chuckle again. She's funny.

"Good thing I'm going there, too. Let's get going, yes? We don't want to draw any more attention." I tilt my head to the direction of the school. She nods.

I lead the way, her following only a few steps behind. The gates are wide open, and my stomach drops. First day of school jitters. The worst feeling ever. And there's boys everywhere. My stomach drops further.

I slow down my pace to be walking next to Michèle. My anxiety radiates off of me, and with my suddenly hightened senses, I feel Michèle's anxiety, too.

We walk past the gates, and all eyes are on us. My spine feels shivers. It's suddenly quiet. I keep my head held high to not give off an awkward stance. Michèle does the opposite.

Every step we take feels slower than usual. I hear whispers around the campus.

'There they are', 'She's pretty', 'Go talk to her!', 'They do have tits', 'Nice ass', 'They're not supposed to be here'.

My ear twitches, but I don't show a reaction on my face. I notice three boys on the bench, but one catches my eye.

He has sandy hair, wire framed glasses, and is sitting with both arms on the back of the backrest. Before I looked away, I saw a faint smirk on his lips.

We head to the board for our assigned rooms. Me and Michèle sigh in relief as we see our names listed to the same teacher.

I feel movement behind me, but before I could turn, a girl pops up next to us. She had short bobbed hair with a blue clip, bright eyes, and a wide smile.

"There aren't even twenty of us." She states. I smile softly. I hear Michèle sigh in joy.

"We thought we were the only girls." She points to the both of us, and I nod along.

"I waited for both of you to come in." A small laugh comes out from all of us. "I'm Simone."

"Michèle." She responds. They wait for me to respond.

"Y/N." I say, and Simone's face lights up. We pause for a while until Simone cuts the silence off.

"It feels like everyone's staring." She says worriedly but still with a smile on her face.

"They are." Me and Michèle say. The girls continue to talk as I look behind me again and see the sandy haired boy talking, or what looks like teasing, another boy. I think to myself, a bully. I grimace. I look away before he notices me staring.

"Are you wearing heels?" All of us look down to stare in awe at Michèle's foot wear.

"I didn't take you as a bold girl, Michèle." I joke, scoffing in amusement.

"My mom didn't say anything. Hopefully, the teachers don't say anything, too." We all laugh, nodding.

"Oh, Y/N. Look at yours. They look new." I look down at my Mary Jane's, smiling to myself.

"Yeah, they are. My parents got them as a moving gift." Simone nods, but Michèle looks confused.

"Moving gift?" She asks.

"They're gifts I receive when we move places. It's sort of a token of appreciation for being understanding from my parents." They both nod.

"Have you talked to the other girls?" Simone asks, glancing at them. As we all glanced behind, I noticed the boy that was being teased walk to our direction.

"Three were in my electives class, but we're not friends." I transfer my eyes to the group of girls. We look back at each other. Michèle looks to Simone. "Did you go to a Catholic school?"

"No, I was from Algiers. I got here a month ago. I don't know anyone." Simone smiles innocently. Their gazes shift to me. "What about you, Y/N? Are you old or new?"

"I'm new. I moved from Paris." I smile a bit sadly.

"Wow, Paris? I've always wanted to see the tower. Is it bigger than they say?" They start to ask me questions, and I answer happily. I cut them off once the boy I noticed walks closer.

"There's a boy coming. Stand still." They quickly shut up and look back at the board. I hold in a laugh.

"Oh no." The boy says, disappointed.

"Something wrong?" Michèle asks, curious by the boys' exclamation.

"My homeroom teacher is Bluebeard." He responds, now looking at us.

Me, Michèle, and Simone look at each other, confused.

Just then, a new girl walks in. She's wearing a blue dress and headband, her blonde hair swaying in the wind. She sticks out like a diamond in the rough. Boys exclaim, making the same comments they did when me and Michèle walked in, but more vulgar. Distaste has masked my face.

"Do you know her?" God bless Michèle's innocent soul. The boy shakes his head.

The bell rings, and I hear a series of groans. I sigh. The day has officially started.

××《☆》××

I make the lecture fade out of my ears, staring at the stage with no thought in my head. I feel a stare on my left

I turn my head and am met with eyes staring dead straight into mine. The glasses cover the way he'slooking at me, so i can't read how he's feeling, but his eyes are dark and hooded.

I look away slowly, a bit creeped out.

××《☆》××

I stare out the window, watching the trees sway in the breeze and the birds chirp, flapping their wings.

I snap back to reality when Ms. Giraud changes the seating arrangement of the boy we talked to earlier.

The boy with the sandy hair whispers something to him and makes him trip. The class laughs. I stare quietly and think, what an asshole.

"And you, girl with the Mary Jane's. What's your name?" Ms. Giraud says, but it feels like she's screaming. I stand up.

"Y/N Pardine." I respond. I feel the class's eyes on me. A certain pair of glasses covered ones make me shiver.

"Ms. Pardine, what's outside the window that's caught your attention?" I stare at her, a bit annoyed.

"Nothing, Ms. Giraud. I'm sorry I got distracted." There's a voice in my head saying fuck you.

She nods. Thank god. "Sit down. See class? That's how you should respond to your teacher." The lecture fades again as I stare off into space at my desk.

××《☆》××

I learned a few names after class. First, the blue dress girls' name is Annick, then the boy who always gets teased is Pichon, and last and very much the least, Joseph Descamps, the boy with the sandy hair.

××《☆》××

As we walk to our next class, someone bumps into my shoulder harshly. I look in front of me and see Descamps running with his friends. A teacher shouts something like 'no running in the halls'. I glare at his back, and he turns around, and he's smiling. Maybe it was because he was laughing, or maybe he was smiling at me. I stick to the first one and glare harder.

××《☆》××

We sit with the same arrangement as the last class. I tap my Mary Jane's on the hardwood floor and admire the way it shines with the sunlight hitting it.

"Excuse me, sir." I hear someone say. I turn my head and see both Descamps and Annick raising their hand.

"Yes?" The teacher asked. Descamps glances at me, and I furrow my brows. He smirks and looks away.

"I think she raised her hand." He states. I breathe out through my nose, a silent laugh. He's smiling again. Is he always this happy?

The teacher gives Annick a side look. Confusion covers my face. Does he think the girls aren't supposed to be here, too?

He lets her talk, and she does. She explains the meaning of the words written on the board. I look at her, impressed. She's pretty and smart. Good for her.

I see Michèle look to her left. I look, too. The boys pass notes and whisper incoherently. I keep a close eye on them. They pass the note to one boy, Laubrac, who looks like he doesn't know what to do with it.

"Give me that." The teacher states. "Give it to me."

Laubrac gets up, moving to the front of the classroom. The teacher opens up the note, then looks back at Laubrac.

"You think this is funny?" The teacher holds up the note.

"It wasn't me." Laubrac says in defence, but with a calm tone.

"Who is responsible for this masterpiece?" The teacher waves the paper in the air.

I turn my head back to the boys in the back. Descamps is chewing on the tip of his pen, acting like he doesn't know anything. His blinks under his glasses, and I squint. His hazel eyes connect with mine, and I look away swiftly.

"Your name?" The teacher asks as he folds the note.

"It wasn't me." Laubrac states again.

"'It wasn't me'. All culprits have the same name. They must be related. Okay, Mr. It wasn't me-"

"Laubrac. My name is Laubrac."

The teacher pauses. "Alright, Laubrac. Are you the boy from foster care? A nobody's son trying to graduate? How amusing." Gasps are heard.

"Didn't anyone teach you discipline in the care system?" He didn't wait for Laubrac to respond. "I won't let a bastard like you disrupt my class. Get out."

"But he didn't do anything." Michèle gets up from her seat to exclaim. I stare at her in shock.

"Nobody taught you how to raise your hand in your all girls' school, Ms. Magnan? Or maybe you think you have a free pass because your uncle is the dean." This teacher is getting on my nerves. I glance at him with squinted eyes.

"Escort your new friend to your uncle's office. He'll give you detention, too." He points to the door. Michèle and Laubrac start walking. I stare at her worriedly. I lean over the desk to talk to Simone.

"Is she gonna be okay?" I ask her. She turns to look at me with creased eyebrows.

"I think so. Her uncle's the dean, after all." I nod and sit back down.

I glance behind me and catch framed hazel eyes staring. He looks away quickly. I stare back to the front.

××《☆》××

Me and Michèle are walking outside when we hear a man call out her name. Before we could turn, he grabs her arm and leads her to the side of the building. I stood in my place, waiting for her instead of going with when I noticed it was just her brother. I walk to lean against the building, gathering my surroundings. I hear pebbles being stepped on and think nothing of it, assuming it was Simone. It wasn't.

"Good morning." I turn my head, smiling, then drop it when I'm met with a chest. I tilt my head upward, and the sunlight hits my eyes. There's a smile on his face still.

"Why are you alone? Where's your friend?" Descamps interrogates. I stare blankly.

"It doesn't matter to you." I turn my head again. I feel him adjust, putting an arm against the wall of the building.

"I know it shouldn't. But seeing a pretty girl like you all alone worries me. I can't let the other boys get to you before I could." He lowers his voice, dropping his head to reach my height.

I look back up at him. I raise my eyebrows. "How many girls have you used that on?"

He laughs. He's laughing. Why is he laughing?

"You're witty. I like that." I roll my eyes at his words. I notice Michèle in the middle of the grounds with Simone, and I sigh in relief. I walk away from Descamps and sprint to them, trying to keep myself composed.

As I get to them, Simone is running towards the bathroom. I catch my breath and shout.

"Simone, that's not-" Simone squeals as she runs back to us. She's laughing. I smile widely, amused.

"It was the boys' bathroom. I just saw-" We start walking but stop as a boy calls out 'What was that!?'.

"Sorry!" Simone repeats, and we all laugh.

××《☆》××

We all sit and talk in the lunch hall. I look out the window, barely touching my food.

Loud clattering catches my attention. I turn my head and see Pichon's hands in Annick's food. I grimace. There are boys laughing in the background. Pichon says a quick sorry to Annick and walks away, clearly embarrassed. Someone asks Annick if she wants a new plate.

"That idiot should give her his." Michèle says, partially mad. I glance to the boy, and it's Descamps. Of course it is. A series of ooh's are heard in the room. Descamps glances at me, then puts his eyes on Michèle again.

"Does the dean's niece have a problem?" He puts his arm on the backrest of his seat, and the other arm leaning on the table. "What did you tell your uncle? 'Laubrac is innocent. Descamps is the bad one'. The dean's niece and the bastard. A new love story." The hall laughs. I glare at him.

"Why don't you tell us what you wrote on that note?" Michèle bites back.

"It was a drawing. I'll show you." Descamps says calmly. He grabs a bottle and starts drawing on his scrambled eggs. I furrow my brows, already knowing what was gonna happen.

"It's a portrait." He holds up his plate, and his eggs now display a woman's bare chest. I scrunch my nose in digust. The hall laughs yet again. Words come piling out my mouth before I know it.

"It's too bad you'll only ever see them in pictures, not in real life. Women would never fawn over that small dick of yours." I say, and the hall erupts with impressed sounds. He raises his eyebrows. Simone holds up a sausage.

"Does this remind you of anything?" She grabs the other end of the sausage and breaks it in half. I laugh. The hall ooh's again. They start banging on the tables, and it catches a teachers attention.

Descamps glances back at us and glares at Michèle. His eyes travel to mine, and a spark of mischief flashes in his framed eyes. My brows crease.

××《☆》××

The bell rings, and students walk into their classrooms. Me, Michèle, and Simone are walking to our class.

I stare out the windows, seeing the busy streets of the afternoon. The girls are talking about a man named 'Alain Delon' when Michèle opens the door and a tub of water drops on her. I gasp.

The boys are laughing. I look at Michèle in worry. I tried to look for something to cover her up, but our teacher came first. She looks at Michèle, then looks at the room full of boys. She gets rid of her coat and tells someone to keep an eye on the class.

I walk inside, standing in shock near my table at the back at what happened. When I came back to my senses, Descamps was drawing boobs on the board, saying some things I couldn't hear with my unfocused mind.

Before I could walk over to him and give him a beating, Michèle's brother, Jean Pierre, walks into the classroom and starts punching the boys.

The others try to stop him, but he keeps punching. I stare at the scene, unable to do anything.

Descamps's eyes move from the fight to me, and I see emotions flashing in them. Worry, stress, fear, and regret. His eyes continue to stay on me when he gets punched. I cover my mouth in shock. I run near.

I pick up his glasses, and there's a crack on one of the frames. My heart drops when I hear whimpering.

I turn around and see Descamps on the floor, hand cupping his eye. I hadn't noticed the dean until he was kneeling next to him.

"My eye! I can't see." Tears well up. I feel thundering emotions.

My ears ring, and I blur everything out. I can still hear him whimpering. My eyes travel around his shaking body, my heart is beating out of my chest, and I feel like falling.

"Pardine. Take him to the office and call an ambulance." The dean tells me, and I snap back into reality. I quickly go to Descamps and grab his shoulders, ushering him to stand. There's blood seeping out of his fingers. I try not to sob.

He probably thought I was the nurse because he leans into me and relaxes a bit. I sigh shakily. I rub his back with my palm and guide him to the office.

××《☆》××

The ambulance was called, and he was taken to the hospital. I sit on the stairs, watching the ambulance drive away. I sigh deeply and place my head on my hands. I breathe in and out slowly, trying to calm myself.

Why did I help? He's bullied my classmates, especially Pichon and Michèle. I furrow my eyebrows. Fuck.

××《☆》××

I knock on the door, and I'm granted to come in. I quickly grab my things, ignoring the teachers questions. Michèle and Simone lean over to me. Simone talks first.

"Are you okay?" She asks worriedly. I shake my head no.

"I don't feel well. I think I'm gonna take the rest of the day off." Simone nods, understanding. Michèle looks confused but brushes it off.

"Okay. Get home safe. We'll see you tomorrow?" Michèle asks. I nod.

"Sure. See you tomorrow." I leave the room and head to the dean's office, asking for an excuse slip.

××《☆》××

As I lie on my bed petting George, I recall the events. Meeting the girls, talking to Descamps, Descamps embarrassing Michèle, witnessing Descamps go blind, calling the hospital for him. I sigh again. That boy will be the death of me.

I glance at my Mary Jane's. There's a scratch on it. Only when I got home I realised that Descamps stepped on it when he pushed past me. Fuck him and his face.

I hate him, I say in my head. I hate him and will continue to hate him. Two eyes or not.

××《☆》××

End of- Chapter one: Mary Jane's

Next- Chapter two: My eye only

××《☆》××

End of Chapter one, i really hope you guys liked it. It's my first time writing in a long while. When I watched Mixte, i was obsessed with joseph and was disappointed with the lost opportunity of an enemies to lovers. So i made one with a reader insert because i also couldn't find a lot of reader insert for joseph in it. Joseph and reader will get together very soon. Please dm this acc for recommendations. Thank you for reading!!!

[avengersassemble-fics]

Linger

chapter 01 "such a fool for you" masterlist 2.4k words

The grandeur of Lady Danbury's ballroom shimmered with the radiance of candlelight and the elegant attire of London's high society. It was the much-anticipated event that marked the commencement of the social season, something the whole ton looked forward to.

It was where the Queen picked her diamond, where the tone was set for the new season, where ladies vied for the most eligible bachelor’s attention. It was places and events like these where you got glimpses of him.

You were no stranger to the Bridgerton family, you practically grew up side by side with Daphne. She was your dearest friend. But that meant also growing up close to her older brothers, one of which you had pined for for years. Since you came to even know what the word or feeling meant.

Benedict Bridgerton had been the man you dreamt of, longed for. He had an air about him that captivated anyone who paid attention to him. Dark hair, deep eyes, a generous smile, and a soft touch (when he did graze your skin during dances or careful passes). You were a fool for him.

Several summers back, when you were just 15, your parents had made haste for Paris. A true hub of sophistication that matched London, you were able to hone your language skills and etiquette, as well as see some fine art along the way. When you returned just before your debut last season, so you could go through the challenges alongside your friend Daphne as new debutantes.. You noticed a change in Benedict.

He was more watchful, more keen to seek you out, more than willing to have his name on your dance card. He had also made it known when he didn’t particularly like a potential suitor.

Last season, he had all but ran off any gentleman who had wanted to even formulate the idea of courting you. This season? You vowed you wouldn’t let him stand in the way, unless he had some kind of explanation for his behavior.

Tonight, you had sought out Daphne as soon as she arrived, eager for some companionship that did not warrant endless get to know you questions from a gentleman.

“Has your Grace sent you off to fend for yourself this evening?” You asked her from behind, which made Daphne immediately turn on her heel to face you.

“I’m afraid he has,” she played along. “Though with my most trusted friend by my side, I believe, together, we can handle this evening.”

Arm in arm, Daphne and you made your way through the crowded room, towards her family. Always nestled together, deep in their own conversations within one another, it was sometimes like the rest of the ton didn’t matter.

For Benedict, that was true, until he could make out your form coming closer with his sister.. And looking as enchanting as ever.

“Remarkable,” he muttered to his brothers, Anthony and Colin. “Utterly remarkable.”

They followed his gaze over to where you were on the far edge of the group, reacquainting with their mother. Anthony hummed a sort of acknowledgement and Colin rolled his eyes.

“I swear, if I had a shilling for every time you mumbled under your breath for her, I'd be a rich man,” Colin said, earning a glare from Benedict.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he tried to play off. Anthony laughed lightly, clapping his hand down on his younger brother's shoulder.

“Are you just going to run off more possible suitors for her this season?” Anthony asked in a hushed tone. Benedict shook his head.

“I did no such thing,” Benedict protested. It was Colin’s turn to sigh.

“Good God, get a hold of yourself,” Colin said lowly. “You could just tell her your intentions.”

Benedict stewed over his brothers words for the majority of the evening. He weighed the cons, but the pros vastly outnumbered anything that could prevent him from you. But he needed some time to get his head straight, his spirits up, before he approached you before the end of the night.

“Sorry to intrude,” he said as he interrupted whatever conversation you were in with his sister. If Benedict had to watch you dance with another man one more time this evening he might need a lobotomy. “Daphne, may I steal her for a moment?”

“If she wishes to be stolen away,” Daphne said and you nodded your head. Daphne gave an all too knowing smile, not at all oblivious to what was transpiring between her brother and you, before leaving your sides.

“Ben,” you spoke to him quietly, and he immediately felt his skin aflame. “You wish to steal me away?”

“Just for a moment of your time,” he managed to get out. “You have been rather occupied with dances and conversations this evening.”

“Well if one hopes to marry, you must divulge a little,” you replied and your slight smile made his stomach twist. “Though if you wanted my attention earlier, you could’ve stolen me away sooner.”

Benedict smiled, though it teetered on the line of a grin. He was so enamored of your wit, and to be on the receiving end of it, unlike the other men in this room, was dear to him. Was this a flicker of admission on your part?

“Do you wish me to steal you away?” He asked softly. He could see your eyes flicker over his face, trying to read him, read what his intentions were. But you knew.

“If only you knew what all I wished of you,” you admitted, a bit breathless. If anyone was watching or listening, you knew the whispers that would be spoken. How improper it might be, even if you two were beating around the bush.

Before Benedict could respond, you two were interrupted by another gentleman who wanted your attention. Much to his dismay, you returned his attention and even accepted a dance. He had to watch you be whisked away for a dance and Benedict seethed. 

Retreating back to his brother's side, Anthony grinned after taking a sip of his brandy. “Go well?”

“Say another word and I may end you,” Benedict grumbled and Anthony laughed. 

You did your best to steer clear of the tall and handsome Bridgerton for the remainder of the evening. You were close to accomplishing that when you had slipped away from the prying eyes of the ton and into the night. 

The air was warm, slightly cooler than earlier in the day. The moon was hidden behind clouds but it did not hinder its illumination. Lady Danbury’s gardens spanned as far as you could make out as you rested against the railing of the stoop. 

You just needed a moment to catch yourself. To try and calm your mind-

“Do you often sneak away from the countless gentlemen vying for your attention?”

So much for slipping away unnoticed, but did it surprise you that Benedict followed?.. partly. You turned to face him as he stepped closer to your side, hands tucked behind him. 

Little did you know it was to conceal the tremble in them. 

“Only when I need a moment,” you admitted. 

Benedict sounded a soft understanding as he came closer. His gaze seemed darker, even without the consideration of the night. He was searching your face for something, though you didn’t know what. 

“What did you mean?” He asked softly. “When you said I didn’t know all you wished of me?”

You tensed up slightly, cursing yourself for your brazen but true words earlier in the evening. You could feel your hand tighten against the railings. 

“Ben.. maybe this isn’t-“

“Please,” he said, his hands finally becoming visible as he reached out to touch your arm with one, the other on his chest. “Forgive the urgency in my words, for my heart and soul can no longer bear the weight of this unspoken truth. There's an ache within me, a relentless torment, fearing that time may slip through my fingers.. That you may slip through my fingers.”

“I cannot go on not telling you how ingrained you are in my mind. How even the mention of your name by my family makes me weak in the knees, how you have bled into my canvases, into my essence. 

“I am tethered to you, my dearest (Y/N). The thought of you accepting a courtship from another man casts a shadow over me I don’t want to see to fruition. Perhaps that is selfish of me.. but if that means having even a chance to have you then I will be selfish.”

You weren’t sure if you had taken a single breath as he spoke, as he laid himself bare to you of his intentions. Everything made more sense now. How Benedict had looked at you for the last year, how he had cut in when men approached, how he practically chased away your potential suitors. If you were a fool for him, he was equally a fool for you.

“What do you ask of me?” you asked, your tone quieter than you intended, but the notions of everything occurring was making your mind and confidence dizzy.

Benedict hesitated, his gaze unwavering but completely captivated by the way your eyes seemed to shine. Was there any way he could be more captivated?

“What do I ask of you?” he echoed, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. “I.. Ask for a chance to court you, to explore the possibility that there is something more between us then familiar friends. I do not wish to rush or pressure you but my feelings for you run deep.”

Benedict sucked in a breath before continuing. “Will you allow me the privilege of courting you?”

You could see the sincerity and pure intention behind his eyes. It was what you had wanted to hear from him since before you debuted last season, something you had only been able to think about in your daydreams. Was he your future?

“Yes,” you breathed and could immediately see the tension he had in his shoulders deflate. “Your honesty is refreshing and.. In fact, it has left me a bit dazed. I believed you to be an artist not also a wordsmith.”

Benedict chuckled, the sound was warm and made you smile along with him. The hand he had on your arm skimmed upwards to cup your cheek. His gaze felt heavy on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

“If you have appreciated my honesty up until this point then maybe I can push my luck further,” he said to you. The playful glint in his eyes shifted to a more mischievous expression. “I must confess, I have been tempted for quite some time to do something I probably shouldn’t.”

His thumb traced over your skin to your lips, gently gliding over your lower lip which fell open slightly to catch a breath.

“I have thought about kissing these lips many times,” Benedict admitted, his voice suddenly sounded low and intimate, and it shook you to your core. “I’ve imagined the taste of sweetness that must linger on them. It’s like the mere thought is an irresistible temptation, and I find myself longing to explore a flavor I don’t even know, yet drives me wild with desire.”

“Do you ever wonder how you must taste to a man who cannot seem to get enough of the mere thought of your lips?” He asked you. 

God.. He would be your undoing, any ounce of restraint you had was quickly evaporating. You had yet to respond, but Benedict watched as your cheeks flushed, your chest seemed to rise and fall more prominently.

“You seem to like being praised,” Benedict remarked. He knew what he was doing, you were sure of it. The way his eyes darted over you all but solidified it. “Are words all I needed to get you in my grasp this whole time?”

“You’ve never been this brazen before, Mr. Bridgerton,” you finally managed to get out. The way his thumb hesitated under your lip made you wonder if he liked hearing that, or maybe hearing it from your lips. You hadn’t ever wondered if any man had thought about the taste of your lips like he had shared with you, but now knowing he had thought of it immensely would linger with you for who knows how long.

“Careful,” Benedict warned you. Was it possibly for his tone to shift even lower than it already was? It sounded like it. “I have not given into my desires but that can quickly change.”

“And cause a scandal?” You asked him and all he did was chuckle.

“You know I don’t mind the whispers,” Benedict reminded you. “But.. I promise to preserve your reputation. So long as you don’t call me that again.”

“I believe we may be at an impasse,” you whispered. “Because I quite like calling you that, if it elicits even a similar response you have given me this evening.”

Benedict realized that there was definitely a flourishing connection here, because he knew you would never be so open with him if you hadn’t already had some sort of affection for him. He decided he wouldn’t waste this chance, to have or claim you.

“We should get you back inside,” Benedict said after clearing his throat of nerves. “Before anyone notices we are gone. You, more so than me.”

“You may be right,” you agreed. Benedict reluctantly removed his hand from your chin, and watched as you moved around him back towards the door. You stole a final glance from him before disappearing around the corner to return to the winding down festivities.

Benedict took a moment to collect himself, for this was the change to everything. He knew this would be a tumultuous journey, one he had craved and wanted but never believed would come true. After a few minutes, he took the same path back inside to remeet with his family. He couldn’t wait to return home and tell his brothers he had actually done it - he had asked to court you and you accepted.

You were aflame with a new purpose. Everything was shaping up just as you desired, with the man you had dreamt of for years. You knew that this courtship would prove to bring you both closer and eventually.. You would be wed. You would have him.

…Right?

[qirarey123]

Villains in Spider Ballerina's Universe

La Folia Vert (The Green Madness)

In the Spider Ballerina universe, Le Farceur Vert takes on the role of the Green Goblin, infusing the chaotic and mischievous spirit of a jester with the iconic menace of the Green Goblin.

Josephine's encounters with Le Folia Vert are marked by a dance of unpredictability. The jester's penchant for turning crime into a dark performance challenges Josephine's commitment to restoring order and beauty. Their dynamic is one of unpredictable twists and turns, as Le Folia Vert takes pleasure in turning the city into their chaotic stage.

••••

L'Ébéne Cygne(The Ebony Swan)

In the Spider Ballerina universe, L'Ébéne Cygne is a symbiotic entity inspired by Odile, the Black Swan from Swan Lake, combined with the malevolent nature of Venom.

Josephine faces a formidable adversary in The Ebony Swan, whose darkness is a twisted reflection of her own grace. L'Ébéne Cygne aims to corrupt the beauty of ballet, turning it into a nightmarish dance of shadows.

••••

The Pirouette Puppeteer(Doc Ock)

In the grand theaters of Paris, the Pirouette Puppeteer weaves a tale of mechanical marvels in form of ribbons and puppetry, bringing a unique blend of technology and dance to the Spider Ballerina universe.

Josephine's encounters with the Pirouette Puppeteer are a clash of artistic expression and technological innovation. The Pirouette Puppeteer sees Josephine as an obstacle in her quest for revenge, while Josephine struggles to understand the motivations behind the mechanical ballet of her former colleague. Their conflict is a dance of tragedy and technology, a battle between the elegance of ballet and the cold precision of machinery.

••••

The Charming Marquis(Chameleon)

In the aristocratic circles of Paris, the Charming Marquis is a master of disguise and manipulation, using his balletic finesse to infiltrate high society and weave a web of intrigue in the Spider Ballerina universe.

Josephine, unknowingly entangled in the Charming Marquis's schemes, finds herself facing a foe who uses elegance and charm as weapons. The Charming Marquis sees Josephine as a symbol of everything he believes was stolen from him, and their conflicts are a dance between grace and deception. Josephine, in turn, must navigate the intricacies of the social web to uncover the Charming Marquis's true identity and put an end to his manipulative ballet.

I actually have more ideas on Villains but this will do for now.