#isolation maison

[papaya-architecture]

🌿 Un isolant recyclable, performant, et vraiment confortable : la ouate de cellulose Dans le cadre de ma série sur les isolants écologiques, je vous propose un focus complet sur la ouate de cellulose, un matériau isolant que j’apprécie particulièrement pour : ✔️ son excellent confort d’été, ✔️ son origine recyclée (papier journal !), ✔️ sa polyvalence en rénovation comme en construction neuve, ✔️ et surtout sa mise en œuvre rapide sans tout casser 🛠️ J’y aborde : ses diff��rentes formes (soufflée, insufflée, panneaux) ses avantages et inconvénients techniques des conseils de mise en œuvre pour éviter les erreurs et même des retours concrets issus de mes chantiers. ➡️ Découvrez l’article complet ici :

[chezswitch]

Isolation de la maison : L'allié sous-estimé de vos économies d'énergie

L'isolation de la maison est souvent négligée dans les discussions sur l'efficacité énergétique. De nombreux propriétaires sous-estiment son impact sur les économies d'énergie et le confort. Une bonne isolation minimise le transfert de chaleur, stabilisant les températures intérieures et réduisant la dépendance aux systèmes de chauffage et de climatisation. Cela peut entraîner des économies de…

[gizmobibi1972]

Home Sweet Home: Rebirth

[hcdahlem]

Thomas Helder

L'écrivain néerlandais Thomas Helder a fait le vœu de venir mourir sur l'Aubrac. Ses proches et sa famille l'y rejoignent, l'occasion de conversations à son sujet et au-delà. Muriel Barbery brosse ainsi un portrait posthume et révélateur.

En deux mots L’écrivain néerlandais Thomas Helder a choisi de mourir à Châteauvieux, sur le plateau de l’Aubrac. C’est là que se retrouvent pour les obsèques les amis et membres de sa famille. Le lieu isolé est propice aux conversations. Des souvenirs partagés qui esquissent un portrait du défunt. Ma note ★★★ (bien aimé) Ma chronique Après la mort de l’écrivain L’écrivain néerlandais Thomas…

[elleaitch22]

Terms of Endearment

Chapter 3: Maison Noire

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

A/N: I'm not too sure about this chapter lol. I hope you love it though! Also, our girl isn't gonna stay in the dark place, I promise! xx Elle

Warnings: Flashbacks featuring emotional abuse, verbal abuse, domestic violence, gaslighting, manipulation, low self-worth, abandonment

Word Count: 2.3k

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Azzi was so exhausted she could feel it in her bones.

After her meeting with Mr. Smith, he decided to keep her there like a scolded child.

“You embarrassed me, Ms. Fudd. We don’t reward insubordination at St. Paul’s.”

Azzi held back the replies she wanted to give. He didn’t want teachers who thought; he wanted obedient little soldiers. Azzi was everything he hated: young, female, and unafraid to speak her mind when needed.

"You asked for my opinion, Mr. Smith." Azzi said tightly. "It doesn’t make sense to punish a child for standing up to bullies. It’s literally what we teach them to do."

Azzi was dismissed with a warning to not let anything happen again and the recommendation to “keep a better eye” on her students. She knew the real reason for his anger. Paige Bueckers – a lesbian and single parent – had embarrassed him by refusing the back down and enroll Soleil in a different school.

Azzi stepped onto the L train, head pounding. She buried her face in her hands, letting herself sink into the cold metal. Teaching didn’t pay enough for this shit.

When she stepped into the lobby of her building, Azzi jabbed the button for the elevator. The distinct lack of electrical humming that made her huff. Of course, the elevator doesn’t work — today of all days. She needed to move. As she climbed five flights of stairs, she ran through her budget in her head.

You can’t afford a better apartment, idiot.

She slammed the front door to her studio apartment and rested her forehead on the wood. Three hours until her shift at Maison Noire.

The upscale club was a survival tactic. On good nights, she could make her rent in a single shift. If she didn’t love teaching so much, she would have quit and been a server full time.

Azzi sighed, thinking about how she ended up here. Grant had seemed like a good guy. She met him at her first college party at eighteen. A few too many shots had her waking up somewhere unfamiliar with no memory of the night before. Grant had brought her bagels and coffee to help with her hangover, and she’d been charmed. She had no idea what the next few years would bring.

It started small — complaining that she spent too much time with her best friends, Caroline and Colleen, neglecting him and their relationship. She distanced herself from them, believing he was right. Next, she missed holidays with her family; it started small with the Memorial Day cookout before escalating to Christmas.

Once she was isolated, the real abuse began.

He wasn’t stupid; he never raised a hand to her. But the things he said hurt worse than a punch ever could.

He gave her everything — everything — and still, spat in his face like an ungrateful bitch. It was laughable, really, how she thought she was smarter than him, asking about bills like she understood the burden he carried. She was entitled, paranoid, and sick in the head, making up problems just to feel important. Her friends didn’t care about her; they tolerated her, the same way you put up with a sad little stray. She was a liar by nature, lying even to herself, twisting every kindness into cruelty so she could play the victim.

Her degree was a joke, a hobby, something little girls picked when they didn’t have the guts to do anything real. She didn’t have the brains or the discipline to survive without someone holding her hand. She would never amount to anything but a preschool teacher. She wasn’t special. She wasn’t strong. She wasn’t even good.

Deep down, she knew it too; she knew she was broken, unlovable, a burden that smart men like him were stupid enough to believe they could fix.

He would leave her, and the world would finally see her for what she was: a failure in cheap makeup, begging for scraps of attention from people who would never really love her.

She hadn’t decided to leave until he finally hit her. Six years into their relationship, when his fist ended up in her stomach, something inside Azzi broke.

She packed a backpack with essentials: passport, driver’s license, social security card, phone, charger, a few outfits, and one picture with her family. She left Los Angeles and started over in a different city.

It wasn’t until a couple months later she realized the full extent of the damage. Collections letters started popping up in her mailbox. The car, the apartment, and all the credit cards were tied to her name. She remembered signing papers, thinking she was just cosigning. She was in thousands of dollars of debt by the time she figured it out.

That was when she applied at Maison Noire.

While grateful for the money, she was sick of having to be ogled by disgusting men. On a Tuesday night, no less!

She used to dream about a tiny classroom, a partner who loved her, maybe a dog. Instead, she was smiling through aching feet, hoping drunk strangers would hand her enough cash to keep the lights on.

She decided to read for an hour and a half before getting ready for work.

Caiden Thomas, the love interest, reminded Azzi of a beautiful, strong blonde who had recently entered her life.

Paige Bueckers was probably the most beautiful woman Azzi had seen. Every time she opened her mouth, Azzi wanted to drool. And the way she had shut down Principal Smith’s bullshit? Hot.

 She was glad Soleil had someone like Paige looking out for her and taking care of her because Azzi had missed that.

She was all alone in a big city. Her parents didn’t even know where she was. She missed her mom, dad, brothers, and grandparents. But Azzi couldn’t face them now. She was worthless. She put a man before everyone. They wouldn’t love her now. They couldn’t.

Not anymore.

Azzi’s alarm buzzed, signaling it was time to get ready. She let out a quiet whine of protest.

One of her favorite things about Maison Noire was the uniforms for bottle girls. They looked like something you could wear out, unlike many of the other clubs in Chicago.

She started with her hair, slicking the front of her hair back and securing it with a claw clip, leaving the rest of her coils loose. A few face-framing pieces softened the look. Disgustingly, she always got more tips if she wore her hair like — or in braids or ponytails.

Men are disgusting.

She applied a light layer of foundation, thanking God that her skin had been behaving lately. She layered on a heavy smoky eye with long lashes. A pinky-purple blush warmed her face nicely, and pink lip gloss tied the look together.

She zipped up the tight black skirt and secured the sweetheart corset. After slathering on shimmering lotion, she spritzed on Kayali’s Sweet Bakery Bliss, her new favorite perfume. She added a silver necklace, bracelet, and a few rings.

She stuffed her feet into a pair of combat boots and pulled on a black hoodie for her train ride. Azzi packed her floor shoes, pouting at the uncomfortable arch. She shoved sweatpants, a t-shirt, and old tennis shoes into her backpack, so she could be comfortable on her journey home.

Setting spray! How could she forget.

Azzi dashed into the bathroom, drenched her face, and used a handheld fan to make it dry faster.

Tonight is going to be great, Az.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Manifestation always worked. By 10 p.m., Azzi had already made $400 in tips.

She took a fifteen-minute break and, when she returned, Kayla handed her an order for a VIP booth in her section.

Three Dirty Shirleys? Someone must be turning 21 or something. Azzi giggled and passed the order to her favorite bartender, Ayanna.

While waiting for the drinks, Azzi made her rounds, groaning internally as she spotted a few of her regulars. Focus on rent, Azzi.

Looping back to the bar, she grabbed the drink tray and plastered on a bright smile.

Azzi approached the VIP section with velvet couches. Three women laughed together. So not a 21st birthday. Two of the women were decked out in silky dresses and jewelry, hair perfectly curled. Maybe sister wives? The third woman wore a beautiful black suit with a blonde bun that looked oddly familiar.

Before Azzi can speak, she felt the blonde woman’s eyes raking over her. She locked eyes with her instinctively.

Her tray almost hit the floor, and a soft gasp escaped her lips.

“Good evening, Ms. Fudd.”

Paige Bueckers was here.

Paige Bueckers, the mother of the child that will probably be Azzi’s favorite this year, was here.

Paige Bueckers, the finest woman Azzi has even seen, was here.

She was here, in Azzi’s section at a club that she would lose her job for being at if her boss ever found out.

Paige Bueckers was at Maison Noire looking at Azzi like — Jesus.

Azzi was very aware of her buffering when one of Paige Bueckers’ companions teased, “Wow Paige. You and Soleil weren’t lying. Ms. Fudd really is as pretty as a princess.”

“Shut up, Nika.” Is gritted out as the same time as, “You can call me Azzi.”

God, her cheeks heated up again. She wished that the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“Well, you have to call me Paige, Azzi. No more Ms. Bueckers.” Paige’s cool façade was back up, smirk firmly in place.

Azzi nodded stiffly. “Good evening, Paige.”

Before the blonde could say anything else, other women spoke. “I’m Jana, and this is Nika. Thank you for sticking up for Soleil today.”

A smile cracked Azzi’s face before she could control it, “It was nothing. She’s such a sweet girl and she didn’t deserve to get in any trouble.”

“Come sit with us,” Nika waved her over.

Azzi’s eyes bugged, stuttering. “Um, I — I’m still on the clock, I’m sorry.” She forced herself to finish her thought.

She placed the drinks and shots on their table and scurried off without another word.

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“So that’s Ms. Fudd?” Nika smirked, watching Azzi retreat.

Jana snorted. “You chose a class where Soleil’s teacher works here.” She gave a nudge to Nika, one that Paige couldn’t see.

“Don’t talk about her like that, J.” Paige frowned. “Everyone knows teachers don’t make shit. And this didn’t pop up on the background check. Remind me to ask Ash how she missed it.”

After a few more rounds of drinks, the girls had managed to pry some information out of Azzi. She was from Virginia, went to college at UCLA, and stayed in LA for a couple years after graduation before moving here, wanting a change of pace. She was 26 and in her third year of teaching at St. Paul’s. Her job at Maison Noire helped her make ends meet because private school teachers didn’t make much. She had two brothers and no pets, but maybe a dog soon.

Whenever Azzi was around, Paige went silent, content to watch her.

After her fifth Shirley, Paige pulled out her phone and texted the owner, Shyanne, knowing her from her college days.

I want a private room with Azzi. Just her. Five minutes.

Shy Sellers: Room 35

She left Jana and Nika to find someone else to flirt with and walked to Room 35.

The room was silent for ten seconds before the door swung open.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not for sale!” Azzi’s brows were furrowed, her big brown eyes flashing.

Paige was unbothered. She lounged back on the velvet couch, long legs spread casually, arms draped along the back. “Sit down.” She began lazily, “Please, Azzi. Five minutes.”

Azzi scoffed, hovering by the door.

Paige dragged her gaze over the brunette. Her black corset top, the tight skirt, the way she seemed to hide away, just a bit. It made Paige was to take her and keep her all to herself. She was perfect. If given the opportunity, she would protect her, cherish her, worship her.

“I just wanted to talk. Without the music. Without the girls.” Paige drawled lazily. “I heard what you said about working here. I want to help you, if you’ll let me.”

Azzi’s frown deepened and her arms tightened around her. “Why? You don’t even know me.”

“You helped my daughter. Because you care,” Paige shrugged. “I want to offer you something different than…this.” She gestured around, “You deserve better than this.” She gestured to the dark room. “You could leave the club. We would have an exclusive arrangement. No kissing. No sex.”

She sighed, leaning further back. “In my line of work, men don’t like dealing with single masc women. I missed out on a 2.3 million dollar deal because I’m single. They went with a company where the owner was married with two kids, even though they aren’t as efficient as me.  Having someone makes me look more stable, more dependable. You’ll be seen with me. Dinners, events, galas, those kinds of things. You’ll be with me, but not with me. No strings.”

Grant was wrong about something. At least I’m still good for my looks. Azzi thought to herself. Yeah, good enough to be a trophy, but not good enough to love.

“Just think about it.” Paige said, standing. “This could help us both. You work Friday, right? I’ll be back in this room at 11. Please have an answer by then.”

[mindblowingscience]

If you're the one in every ten adults who experiences incessant ringing in your ears, you already know how disruptive tinnitus can be. A new study led by researchers from Massachusetts Eye and Ear has uncovered evidence of this phantom noise being generated by hyperactive nerves the nervous system can no longer tune out. As widespread as it is, tinnitus has long remained a medical mystery, but now researchers have tracked down evidence that supports a leading theory of the origins of that pesky buzz. A quick explainer for those who haven't experienced it – around 10 to 15 percent of adults worldwide hear a ringing, roaring, or buzzing sound from within their ears known as tinnitus. For some, it comes and goes. For others, it is persistent, being considered chronic if it lasts for more than three months. Tinnitus is usually associated with some kind of ear disturbance, such as noise exposure, hearing loss, injury, blockage, or infection. It can also affect people who are deaf, hard of hearing, or hearing impaired. "Beyond the nuisance of having persistent ringing or other sounds in the ears, tinnitus symptoms are debilitating in many patients, causing sleep deprivation, social isolation, anxiety, and depression, adversely affecting work performance, and reducing significantly their quality of life," says auditory physiologist Stéphane Maison from Massachusetts Eye and Ear Infirmary, who was part of the research team.

Contlinue Reading.

[sobillyboy]

Le premier artisan travaille dans la maison depuis ce matin 🎉

Je prends les paris, dans combien de temps on est dedans ?

Moi je dis le 10 juillet !

Pour vous aider, on a un plaquiste qui refait l'ensemble des murs/cloisons/isolation, un électricien-chauffagiste qui refait toute l'elec et le chauffage (pompe à chaleur air eau), un menuisier pour les fenêtres (7 à changer + la porte d'entrée), un Charpentier pour la trémie (trou de l'escalier) et nous (accompagnés de nos parents) pour les sols, la plomberie, la salle de bains, la peinture, l'escalier !

[satoshi-mochida]

Bushiroad Games and Frontwing announce visual novel Perennial Dusk: Kinsenka for PC - Gematsu

Publisher Bushiroad Games and developer Frontwing have announced visual novel Perennial Dusk: Kinsenka for PC. It will launch in 2025 with English, Japanese, and Simplified Chinese language support.

Here is an overview of the game, via its official website:

About

Industry veteran Yukito Urushibara and prolific illustrator Saine join forces for the first time to craft a stunning tale about a group of young people in an eerie world of endless twilight. Follow their story as they struggle against limitless cruelty and confront the inescapable traumas of life and death together. Perennial Dusk: Kinsenka is the latest visual novel written by Yukito Urushibara, whose work on Irotoridori no Sekai and Sakura Moyu captivated players with stories that inspire hope as readily as they induce despair. The cast of colorful-yet-broken characters is brought to life by Saine, whose experience as the illustrator of various Vocaloid music videos (“mikitoP “Kunoichi demo Koi ga shitai”) and as a VTuber designer (“Kamishiro Kurea,” “Watagashi Unou,” “Hoshikage Lapis,” and “Kozuya Nano” among others) lets the delicate twilight world bloom with a resplendent touch.

Story

The human heart is but a vessel for pain. That’s what someone once whispered-a voice laced with loneliness, whispering directly into the soul. It’s an indescribable sadness, a love just beginning to bloom. It becomes an invisible pain that pierces the heart. And that’s what makes up life: a cyclical series of highs and lows. Tachibana Sai was born without the ability to feel pain in his heart. He spends his days eliminating any seeds of malice that sneak up on his sister, the one person he treasures, without drawing attention to himself. Sick of the never ending monotony he lives through, he chances upon a meeting with Benio Matsuri, a young girl whose aloof demeanor resembles that of a beautifully crafted doll. For the first time in his life, he encounters a heart piercing sensation that of falling in love. On the edge between day and night, in a twilight world where the dead and living mingle, stands an apartment building called Maison sans Nom, which is home to a group of boys and girls. A ruthless boy who knows no pain in his heart. A lonely girl without any friends. A friendly girl who struggles to make connections. A prickly, ambitious girl who is keen to be of help. A boy who loves his own cute self above anything else. A mess of a woman who tries to solve everything through brute force. And a boy with a tender heart who knows no pain in his body. This ill-assorted group of residents, hands stained with blood from battling the supernatural Maledicts, shall encounter the hearts they never knew and begin nurturing their souls. The human heart is but a vessel for pain. To protect this pain akin to love… To gently break the world apart, piece by piece… Even if it means abandoning humanity. That’s why the heart is but a vessel for pain. For life blazes brilliantly, while the heart goes around in an endless cycle.

Characters

Benio Matsuri (voiced by Manaka Iwami) – A girl born into the Benio Family, a powerful family of Maledict Exorcists, who is tightly bound by her family’s curse. Due to an incident in the past, causing her to close off her heart, she doesn’t speak and barely shows any emotion. Her eyes remain closed at all times, as if she wishes to isolate herself from the cruel world she lives in. Since she only moves when someone pulls her along by the hand, her demeanor evokes the image of a beautifully crafted doll. She is a Curse Bearer with the ability to give Maledicts form and use their powers freely.

Nobody (voiced by Manaka Iwami) – Another personality that dwells inside Benio Matsuri’s heart that appears when Matsuri is asleep. Nobody sees herself as a shield that protects Matsuri from the cruel world. She can be incredibly selfish, and her words, actions, and strong attitude cause her to come across as a haughty, ill-mannered girl.

Tachibana Sai (voiced by Yumiri Hanamori) – The protagonist of the story: A ruthless boy who cannot feel pain in his heart. His younger sister, his only family, is the one person he treasures, and anyone who torments her is met with a brutal end by his hands… Yet, yearning to understand the human heart, he often interrogates his victims, even though they cannot respond. Just as he begins to seek respite from his bleak life, his unexpected encounter with Benio Matsuri causes him to experience a kind of pain akin to love in his heart.

Kanbara Tatsuki (voiced by Shuta Morishima) – An earnest and sincere boy who was born with a body that doesn’t feel any physical pain. Despite the unjust world around him, he wishes to keep on the straight and narrow, even if no one else does. He began training at a young age under a master who claimed to be invincible in order to become… well, a certain something. He has infiltrated the Benio Family and is biding his time for the chance to free Benio Matsuri, his first love, from their curse.

Tsukahara Ao (voiced by Hitomi Sasaki) – A seemingly cheerful and sociable resident of Maison sans Nom. She’s especially close with her friend Ando Mémé. Born as a Curse Bearer, she works as one of the Benio Family’s mercenaries and exorcists. On top of her mischievous tendencies, she wants more than anything to be a housewife. Her cooking might not be up to par now, but she’s working on it.

Ando Meme (voiced by Hika Tsukishiro) – A surly resident of Maison sans Nom and a Curse Bearer like Ao. Despite her ambitious and hard-working nature, she tends to scare people off due to her prickly attitude. However, she is keener than anyone when it comes to helping her friends, and Ao is especially reliant on her companionship. Her goal in life is to rake in the money as a top-grade exorcist.

Kirishima Tsuyu (voiced by Yukina Shuto) – The landlord of Maison sans Nom. Tsuyu is obsessed with his own cuteness and habitually declares himself the cutest person in the world. He enjoys teasing the other residents, and while they get annoyed with Tsuyu’s antics sometimes, they still adore him. He often earns himself a spanking from Yozora. He is also a content creator who makes full use of his looks while livestreaming as “Chuyu.” He has a preference for strong-willed people and takes a particular liking to Tatsuki in this regard. A Curse Bearer like Ao and Mémé, he possesses a mysterious power.

Kandori Yozora (voiced by Hana Kuga) – As the only grown-up resident of Maison sans Nom, Yozora acts as the guardian of the younger residents. She appears to be a beautiful, classy lady… until she opens her mouth. With her frank and outspoken attitude, as well as her tendency to drink cheap booze, gamble on horses, and “borrow” money from the kids without ever returning it, she’s not exactly what one would consider a responsible adult. Yozora does not possess any Maledict powers, but she prides herself on being the strongest martial artist in the world.

Benio Tsui (voiced by Takako Tanaka) – The current head of the Benio Family and Matsuri’s younger sister. Contrary to her appearance as a young girl, she considers herself the matriarch of the family, referring to all its members as her “children,” regardless of blood relations. Inside her heart dwells three different personalities, each with their own quirks and caprices. All are cold, cruel, and ruthless by nature, although she sometimes displays a child-like innocence befitting her age.

Penguin (voiced by Reika Fujisawa) – A mysterious, smartly dressed penguin with the ability to understand and speak human language. However, it is painfully shy, so normally it pretends to be just a regular penguin. It works as a receptionist and bellhop at a hotel where the souls of the dead end up, so the younger residents of Maison sans Nom refer to it as “God.” It has a huge attitude for a cute little penguin and is extremely hard to please. The best way to buy its favor is with sweets and snacks.

…and others!

Main Staff

Planning / Story: Yukito Urushibara

Character Design / Art: Saine

Developer: Frontwing

Background Music: Fuminori Matsumoto, Hitoshi Fujima (Elements Garden)

Theme Song

Title: “Anata no Kioku no Naka de” (“In Your Memories”)

Vocals: Mao Uesugi

Lyrics: Yoshikazu Kuwashima

Composition and Arrangement: Hitoshi Fujima (Elements Garden)

Watch the announcement trailer below.

Announce Trailer

[sidlottedream]

฿ɆɎØ₦Đ ₮ⱧɆ VɆłⱠ Ø₣ ₮ł₥Ɇ

_𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓐𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓰𝓲𝓼𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓜𝓾𝓼𝓴𝓮𝓽𝓮���𝓻_

_fanfiction part 1

꧁ 𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓼 𝔁 𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓷 ꧂

Ninon woke up and looked around the room. It was not her Parisian apartment in Marais, that was sure.

"She's awake," Aramis said, his voice breaking the unsettling silence. Ninon sat up, her eyes landing on the man dressed in an unusual uniform bearing fleur-de-lis on his shoulder. "Who are you - oh - no- really?" she looked at the man with astonishment. She recognized the Musketeer, but remained silent, her heart quickening as she rose up from the bed.

"Who are you?" Aramis countered, gesturing to the sleek, rectangular object in Ninon's hand, "And what is this glass plate?" Ninon instinctively reached for her phone, attempting to swipe it open, only to discover the battery was dead. "Oh, no," she whispered, a wave of despair washing over her.

Athos, remaining silent until now, took in the scene, his gaze settling on Ninon’s red gown before speaking. "We are the King's Musketeers. You were found in Maison du Faucheur, unconscious, by a maid."

"Maison du Faucheur?" Ninon echoed, the name triggering a flood of memories. She recalled her clandestine trip through an attic door to the neighboring house, her desperate attempt to hide. The horrifying truth crashed over her- the door, a seemingly ordinary passageway, had been a portal. She had travelled through time. "OMG – this can't be happening," she gasped, panic etched on her face. "Could it really be true?"

Athos looked at her seriously. "What?" he pressed.

"The door is a portal. I… I travelled through time," Ninon stammered, her voice trembling.

Porthos shook his head dismissively. "Travel through time? Are you mad, Madam?"

"I wish I was," Ninon replied, her gaze finding Athos'. "Can you get me back to Maison du Faucheur?"

"Yes," Athos conceded, his expression serious. "But first, we need to know exactly who you are."

Ninon, steeling herself, answered, "My name is Dr. Ninon de Larroque. I'm a curator of archeology at the National Archaeological Museum… in Saint-Germain-en-Laye."

The absurdity of her explanation suddenly hit her. It likely sounded even more outlandish in this context. "What year is this?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"1633," Athos replied. Ninon's gaze fell to the Templar ring on her finger - a family heirloom.

That ring has magic properties. Words of her late grandfather Pierre echoed in her mind. He had warned her of the ring's unpredictable abilities-  a fact that felt brutally ironic now.

Ninon hid a gulp. The weight of her displacement pressed down, a heavy cloak of isolation, yet the practicality inherent to her profession surfaced.

"Could I perhaps get some food, and… different clothing?" she asked, her voice betraying a slight tremor. Porthos, ever eager to please a lady, even one who appeared seemingly out of thin air, readily agreed. "I'll get Constance," he announced, gesturing for Aramis to accompany him in fetching Madame d'Artagnan.

Athos remained. Officially, for her safety. Unofficially -he found himself drawn to her. Her intelligence shining through her carefully constructed composure. It was impossible to deny the magnetism of the woman before him. Ninon, a blend of modern independence and bewildered vulnerability intrigued him. His clear blue eyes took in the way her fingers traced the intricate carvings on the Templar ring, a silent testament to her strange predicament. He found himself drawn to her quiet strength, a resilience that shone through the apprehension in her eyes.

His gaze lingered on her for a fraction of a second longer than politeness dictated. His silence spoke volumes. He had seen much in his lifetime, witnessed enough bloodshed and betrayal to render most extraordinary events… ordinary.

"Do not tell anyone who you really are," Athos said, his voice a low rumble.

Ninon nodded, her gaze dropping to the intricately woven tapestry on the wall. "Of course not. I'm very well aware of the Inquisition and their methods. And what the Cardinal is like - Richelieu, I mean. I know of Galileo- he'll be tried for heresy soon enough -I need to find my way back to my time."

"What year did you arrive from?" he asked, his curiosity finally overriding his caution.

"2025," she replied tugging at the sleeve of her gown, the elaborate embroidery catching the weak light. The words hung in the air, as improbable as her situation. "Sounds crazy - like Porthos said?" Ninon continued, a nervous laugh escaping her lips. She then launched into a breathless explanation, detailing her tumultuous evening at a gala, the argument with her ex-boyfriend over an ancient artifact, the discovery of a hidden door in the medival half-timbered house, and her desperate attempt to examine the artifact before her rival could claim the credit. Her words tumbled out in a rush, a torrent of modern jargon juxtaposed against the ancient backdrop of Captain Treville's simple lodgings.

Her knowledge of history was astounding, her descriptions of the future both terrifying and strangely alluring. She spoke of flying machines and devices that could communicate across vast distances- concepts utterly alien to him. Yet, the pull towards her, a desire to protect her went beyond simple chivalry. He saw the strength in her quiet determination, the spark of resilience burning brightly in her eyes.

She inhaled sharply. The weight of her temporal displacement settled upon her anew, heavy with the unanswered questions of how she'd return and what further dangers lurked in this unfamiliar time.

"I'll help you return," Athos said, his voice serious,"I do not know how we'll manage to do it, but I primise I'd give my best to do so." He knew nothing of time travel, of futuristic technology, or of the artifacts she spoke of. But he knew how to navigate the shadowy corners of Paris, to find allies in unexpected places.

She’d known him for an hour, yet a strange sense of trust bloomed within her, a feeling as anachronistic as her very presence in this time. "Thank you," Ninon said, her voice barely a whisper. Athos nodded lightly.

They stared at one another silently for a moment until the sound of approaching footsteps broke the spell. Constance entered, followed by Aramis.

Ninon was very grateful for the food and a simple, but beautifully embroided linen dress Constance had provided. She excused herself and went to another room to change.

The Musketeers, meanwhile, turned their attention to the critical matter of Ninon's disguise. Her appearance as well as her futuristic mannerisms and jargon presented a significant problem. A fabricated story was urgently needed to explain her presence. A lively discussion ensued, filled with the rapid-fire wit and strategic thinking that defined the Musketeers. Various options were debated- a distant relative, a traveler lost and confused, even a lady-in-waiting escaping a forced marriage, each possibility weighed against the potential for scrutiny.

Finally, Constance offered a solution that seemed plausible enough, "She could be my cousin -from Provence," she declared, her voice calm and assured. The suggestion, simple yet effective, would explain Ninon's unfamiliar accent, while still maintaining a level of ambiguity. With a plan in place, a sense of purpose filled the room.

Ninon was happy with the idea, as it held a certain plausibility. Provence was a distant province, and a poorly connected cousin from such a place would explain the absence of any prior knowledge of her existence. But, also, there was a fact that she spoke Provençal, as she had spent her childhood with her maternal grandmother in Aix-en-Provence.

This detail added an unexpected layer of authenticity to her carefully constructed persona.

Both Athos and Aramis were now happy to let her go with Constance. Their initial skepticism had melted away before the quiet determination in Ninon’s eyes and the almost desperate hope clinging to her carefully crafted narrative. Athos found himself feeling even more protective of her, perhaps drawn to the echoes of his own past in her determined gaze. The daunting task of finding a way to return Ninon to her own time loomed large, and yet not discouraging. For now they had a story, a believable one, that could safeguard her in this treacherous era.

Before leaving with Constance, Ninon turned to Athos. In the quiet intimacy of a dimly lit hallway, she squeezed his hand, her touch surprisingly firm. Her simple words, "Thank you again for your kindness," held a weight far beyond their simplicity. They were words of gratitude, of recognition, and perhaps even a silent acknowledgment of the shared understanding that fell between them, a bond forged in the unlikely crucible of time travel and a hastily constructed cover story. As she walked away, Athos watched her go, a flicker of something akin to admiration in his usually stoic eyes.

He sighed. He’d promised her safe passage, a promise etched not only in his word but in the steely glint of his eyes, a promise that felt heavier than his usual oath to the King. Ninon, with her strange knowledge and futuristic tools, was a puzzle piece that might become a game far larger than the petty squabbles of court, a game that Richelieu, with his insatiable hunger for power was orchestrating.

The whirlwind of time had deposited her here, a temporal anomaly that somehow intertwined with his own treacherous path. He knew the Cardinal’s spies were everywhere, their eyes and ears penetrating the city's very fabric. He had to ensure her safety, not just for her sake, but for the fragile peace he was struggling to maintain in this chaotic time. This was no longer about court intrigue or swordplay- this was a battle against the very fabric of time itself.

□

[bitemevanitas]

🦋 Marceline d'Anjou

𝙾𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚜𝚒𝚜

"𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉. 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂𝒔𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆."

- 𝖬𝖺𝗋𝖼elin𝖾, 𝗃𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗀𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍, 1842

Trivia

• Full Name: Marceline Luetta d’Anjou

• Species: Vampire (formerly human)

• Physical Age: 19 y/o

• Chronological Age: ~around 192 years old

• Date of Birth: November 11, year unspecified (17th century, Germany)

• Place of Current Residence: Hôtel Lambert, Île-Saint-Louis, Paris

• Former Residence: La Maison des Marées ("The House of Tides"), de Panne (Belgium)

• Occupation: Dancer (ballet performer at the Opéra Garnier in Paris)

Origins & Transformation

Human Birth:

• Born as a human in the Rhine lands, sometime during the 17th century

Vampirism:

• Turned into a Vampire of the Crimson Moon during the Babel Incident, which is part of the canon history of VNC, associated with the creation of most vampires

Rebirth Cycle:

• Due to a myseterious affliction, Marceline has undergone at least one known death and rebirth ( which is to be explored in my fanfiction). Each return erodes her past memories further, leaving her with only fragments of her former lives. This places her chronological age at 192, though her current life began 19 years ago

Family & Upbringing

Her father:

• Albert, who also a vampire. He raised Marceline and three other siblings during her childhood in her current life, on an island between de Panne and the French border. He avoids the outside world, and little is known about him beyond that reclusiveness.

Upbringing Location

• Grew up in La Maison des Marées (als called "The House of Tides"), which is a remote mansion with strong associations to the sea

• Around age 11–12, Marceline fled La Maison des Marées and sought refuge under her older brother, the head of Hôtel Lambert in Paris

Symbolism & Aversion

• Despite being raised in a place symbolically tied to water, Marceline has a strong, visceral aversion to the sea, the reason for which remains unclear

• Ironically, Hôtel Lambert, where she now lives, is also filled with maritime imagery, like portraits, décor, artifacts, etc.

Combat & Weaponry

• Weapon of Choice: A pole-arm crafted originally for a Bourreau (executioner)

• When inactive, it appears as a silver ring with a green jewel

• When the jewel is pressed, the weapon elongates into a full pole-arm

Artistic Passions

Ballet Dancer:

• One of her most consistent passions is dance (mainly ballet)

• Performs regularly at the Opéra Garnier

• Her performances are highly regarded, though she doesn't really seek fame

• Dance represents a form of control, grace, and discipline in contrast to her otherwise chaotic past

• Dancing is one of the few things that has always fascinated her and seema to never loosen its grip on her

Integration Into Human Society

• Marceline actively avoids Altus and most other vampires, unless completely necessary

• She has chosen to live in human society rather than among her own kind

Psychological Profile

Self Isolator:

• Marceline is a deeply private and guarded individual

• The cyclical nature of her death and rebirth causes blurry memories of her past lives, contributing to an unstable sense of self

Her Ties to Canon

• I believe, that as a vampire created during the Babel Incident, Marceline fits (squarely enough) into the canon lore of The Case Study of Vanitas

• Her avoidance of Altus, in my opinion, positions her somewhat as an outlier, similar to other characters like Noé or Chloé

Fun Fact

Hôtel Lambert is actually a real historical location in Paris, which makes it quite the apt setting for my noble vampire and her secretive past ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

A/N: I finally found out how to use HTML for gradient and multi-colored text!!! I win!!!

[hcdahlem]

L’été en poche (34): Dix âmes, pas plus

L’été en poche se poursuit avec un thriller signé Ragnar Jónasson qui nous entraîne dans les pas d'une enseignante engagée dans un village isolé qui ne compte que dix habitants. L'occasion pour ce maître du suspense de construire un scénario haletant.

En deux mots Après avoir postulé pour un poste d’enseignante à Skálar, le plus petit village d’Islande, Una découvre cette communauté de dix personnes, dont ses deux élèves. Et va se rendre compte au fil des jours que bien des secrets sont enfouis là, dont un double meurtre non élucidé et une fillette qui hante la maison qu’elle occupe. Ma note ★★★★ (j’ai adoré) Si vous voulez en savoir plus… Ma…

[cosmicanger]

Maurice-Claude Vidili, Isolation Sphere, 1971,

70 ¾ × 70 ¾ × 70 ¾ in (179.7 × 179.7 × 179.7 cm)

Maison Gerard, New York

[seoul-bros]

JK's Maison Mihara Yasuhiro Shirt

Intrigued by the text on the back of JK's shirt. It translates as "The bride stripped bare by her bachelors, even" which in turn is the name of an artwork by Marcel Duchamp otherwise known as Le Grand Verre or The Large Glass (1923).

He intended it to depict the erotic encounter between the "Bride", in the upper panel, and her nine "Bachelors" in the lower panel.

The Large Glass consists of two glass panels, suspended vertically and measuring 277.5 cm × 175.9 cm. The top rectangle of glass is known as the Bride's Domain; the bottom piece is the Bachelors' Apparatus. It consists of many geometric shapes melding together to create large mechanical objects, which seem to almost pop out from the glass and ever-changing background.

One critic said this about it, "The Large Glass has been called a love machine, but it is actually a machine of suffering. Its upper and lower realms are separated from each other forever by a horizon designated as the 'bride's clothes'. The bride is hanging, perhaps from a rope, in an isolated cage, or crucified. The bachelors remain below, left only with the possibility of churning, agonized masturbation."

Well okay then!

Post Date: 27/10/2023

[latlasmnemosyne]

Clés, verrous, serrures et curiosité (I/II)

Remy Cogghe, Madame reçoit, 1908, Roubaix, La Piscine.

Le XIXe siècle voit les serrures se multiplier, isolant l'espace bourgeois de la domesticité trop curieuse. Madame reçoit, Monsieur a laissé sur une chaise son haut de forme, le foulard qui enserrait son col de chemise et sa canne. Sans doute Monsieur est-il bien reçu, sans doute le spectacle plaît-il aux deux employés de maison qui ont délaissé leur besogne pour y assister à travers le trou de la serrure qui les sépare de la chambre.

Wilhelm Amberg, La Curieuse Servante, s.d., h/t, Trieste, musée Revoltella.

Même idée, composition très similaire mais réduite à une domestique. Cette fois-ci c'est une cape de soie dorée qui semble avoir été jetée dans la précipitation, aussi peut-être est-ce Monsieur qui reçoit. Si le titre est moins explicite, les peintures qui ornent le mur à l'arrière-plan sont d'une lisibilité sans équivoque. Nulle besoin de regarder à travers le verrou, le peintre nous montre par cet artifice archaïque ce que l'œil curieux de la servante entraperçoit. Le drapé froissé évoque-t-il peut-être déjà l'agitation des draps, suivant la même interprétation que celle du Verrou de Fragonard.

Jean-Honoré Fragonard, Le Verrou, 1777, h/t, Paris, Louvre.

J'avais découvert l'œuvre par l'affaire judiciaire étudiée pendant mon droit, pour laquelle tout bon étudiant retenait l'adage "l’aléa chasse l’erreur". On était bien loin des considérations esthétiques : le tableau "attribué à" Fragonard avait été acheté à un propriétaire qui découvrit après l'avoir vendu qu'il s'agissait bien d'un tableau "de" Fragonard — dont la côte était de fait plus élevée — et voulu obtenir réparation en s'estimant lésé. Mais il n'y pas d'erreur et donc pas de nullité du contrat en présence d'un événement dont la survenance et les résultats sont incertains. Aussi incertaine est la scène, dans laquelle on lit parfois une agression, la femme semblant s'extraire de l'étreinte. Mais surtout, le spectateur a ici pris la place du voyeur.

Wilhelm Amberg, La petite gourmande et La curiosité.

Wilhelm Amberg a décliné le sujet de genre dans au moins quatre autres compositions, où la curiosité se mêle parfois à la gourmandise, aux secrets et aux commérages. Même drapé jeté sur un tabouret dans l'une d'elle, scène plus charmante dans une autre où un morceau de sucre est gentiment subtilisé pour l'offrir à un chien.

Wilhelm Amberg, Le secret et Une friandise

Samuel van Hoogstraten, Les Pantoufles [Intérieur hollandais], 1655-1662, h/t, Paris, Louvre.

Enfilade hollandaise (doorkijkje) de trois pièces à trois portes. La première sert de cadre dont elle forme le bord droit, la seconde est ouverte, la troisième munie d'une serrure. La clé qui s'y trouve, rattachée à son trousseau, évoque presque à elle seule la présence humaine dont la toile s'est dépouillée — tout comme la bougie consumée, le balais inutilisé et les pantoufles oubliées, autant d'éléments qu'on rattache à une maisonnée mal tenue.

Nicolaes Maes, L'oreille indiscrète, 1657, h/t, Musée de Dordrecht.

La curiosité, moins visuelle qu'auditive, avait été déployée dans une série de petites scènes de genre de cet autre élève de Rembrandt. La jeune femme, quittant la salle à manger où elle devait se trouver il y a peu, est descendue écouter une discussion plus distrayante, son verre encore en main. Et puisque nous en sommes témoins visuels, elle nous met dans la confidence et sollicite de son doigt notre discrétion ou notre attention.

Nicolaes Maes, L'oreille indiscrète, ca. 1655-1659, h/t, Londres, Victoria and Albert Museum.

[vdcouverture91]

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