#marie ney

[letterboxd-loggd]

Yield to the Night (1956) J. Lee Thompson

January 1st 2024

[gogmstuff]

Afternoon dresses of 1909 -

Left 1909 (1 January issue) Les Modes robe d'aprés midi by Ney Soeurs. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop .1024X144.

Right 1909 (1 January issue) Les Modes robe d'aprés midi by Zimmerman. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1446.

Left 1909 (1 Febuary issue) Les Modes Mlle. Fonteney in toilette d'apr´s midi by Redfern; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop. From gallica.bnf.fr 1024X1427.

Right 1909 (1 Febuary issue) Les Modes Mme Andrée Mégard in costume tailleur by Redfern. From gallica.bnf.fr 1024X1422.

Left 1909 (1 March issue) Les Modes Mlle Nelly Martyl in robe d'aprés midi by Green & Co photo-Reutlinger. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1412,

Right 1909 (1 March issue) Les Modes Mlle Sylvie in robe d'aprés midi by Paquin. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1413.

Left 1909 (1 March issue) Les Modes Robe d'après-midi by Leony Tafaré photo-Stebbing. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1407.

Right 1909 (1 March issue) Les Modes robe d'aprés-midi by Zimmerman. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1404.

Left 1909 (1 April issue) Les Modes Robe d'après-midi by Perdoux photo-Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1404.

Right 1909 (1 May issue) Les Modes Mlle Delza in robe d'aprés-midi by Dukes & Joire photo-Reutlinger. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots and flaws w Pshop 1024X1408.

Left 1909 (1 May issue) Les Modes Mlle Dermoz in costume pour l'aprés-midi by Linker & Co. photo-Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots and flaws w Pshop 1024X1405.

Right 1909 (1 May issue) Les Modes Mlle Andrée Marly in robe d'aprés-midi by Green & Co. photo-Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots and flaws w Pshop 1024X1411.

Left 1909 (1 May issue) Les Modes Mme Marie Faurens in robe d'aprés-midi photo-Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots and flaws w Pshop 1024X1406.

Right 1909 (1 May issue) Les Modes Robe d'aprés-midi by Bechoff-David photo-Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots and flaws w Pshop 1024X1407.

Left 1909 (1 May issue) Les Modes Robe d'aprés-midi by Beer photo-Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1409.

Right 1909 (1 May issue) Les Modes Robe d'aprés-midi by Morin-Blossier photo-Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1412.

Left 1909 (1 June issue) Les Modes Afternoon dress by Bernard - photo by Reutlinger. From les-modes.tumblr.com/page/26 806X1920.

Right 1909 (1 June issue) Les Modes robe d'après-midi by Chary. photo-Henri Manuel. From gallica.bnf.fr 1024X1403.

Left 1909 (1 August issue) Les Modes robe d'après-midi photo-Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots in margins w Pshop 1024X1408.

Right 1909 (1 September issue) Les Modes Mlle Dherblay in robe d'après-midi by Paquin photo - Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1408.

Left 1909 (Sept. issue) La Mode illustrée Costume élégant pour la ville. Modèle de Mlle Louise Piret. From tumblr.com/chic-a-gigot/728904471068000256/la-mode-illustr%C3%A9e-no-38-19-septembre-1909?; fixed spots & crease w Pshop 1870X3072.

Right 1909 Journal des Demoiselles, Supplément au Toilettes de Mmes Forcillon by anonymous (Rijksmuseum). From their Web site3218X4644

Left 1909 (1 October issue) Les Modes Robe d'après-midi by Jeanne Lanvin photo - Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots and flaws w Pshop 1024X1404.

Right 1909 1909 (1 October issue) Les Modes Mlle Madeleine Dolley in robe d'après-midi by Beer photo - Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots and flaws w Pshop 1024X1407.

Left 1909 (1 November issue) Les Modes Long vetement brodé et robe d'après-midi by Rondeau photo-Chéri-Rousseay & Glauth. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1409.

Right 1909 (1 November issue) Les Modes Mme Andrée Mégard in robe d'après-midi by Redfern photo-Félix. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1401.

1909 (1 November issue) Les Modes Robe d'après-midi by Margaine-Lacroix photo-Henri Manuel. From gallica.bnf.fr; fixed spots & flaws w Pshop 1024X1411.

There was no December issue.

[illustratus]

The Sons of Marshal Ney by Marie-Éléonore Godefroid

[movie-titlecards]

Voyage to the Planet of Prehistoric Women (1968)

My rating: 5/10

And shit like this is why we have the Prime Directive.

[randimason]

Yes, a Books of Magic adaption would be interesting but Discover Warner Bros is not going to let another DC character go without asking for container ships full of money and more importantly TIM HUNTER’S WORLD IS NOT THE HARRY POTTER ONE.

Curious if Mary GrandPré had read any issues of Books of Magic before she started on the Harry Potter covers for Scholastic - that’s where the connection would be - but imagine her staying shtum about inspirations would be the smart choice.

And now I get to go to a Zoom memorial for an old friend. At least the cat is keeping me company.

[nei-ning]

A while ago I had a dream where Mother / Virgin Mary appeared to my sister. Of course I forgot to tell about this dream to my sister.

Last night I had a dream where A4 sized paper floated in front of me, staying in my eye level. The paper itself was light beige with light colden decoration print on it. In the middle was Mother / Virgin Mary holding baby Jesus. My sister was in this dream too so I instantly felt like I should inform her about this dream because I had forgot to tell her about the first one.

So, I woke up at 4am and send her a message of this dream. She was happy that I informed her.

Now, you need to know sis and I are not religious. We don't worship Mary, Jesus, God etc. To us they are guides, messengers, who appear to us when we need a hint, direction, message and / or guidance.

Apparently we both are going in right direction in our spiritual (not religious) paths because we got this message. I still need to check what is Mary's message.

[ellery-six]

I finished all the Mary-Blair-style Stardust Crusader - here's the Dl$ney poster :) (all but Iggy - sorry! I'm not too good at animals yet, I might try to fit him into this later :))

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

The updated list of nominees so far:

France:

Jean Lannes

Josephine de Beauharnais

Thérésa Tallien

Jean-Andoche Junot

Joseph Fouché

Charles Maurice de Talleyrand

Joachim Murat

Michel Ney

Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte (Charles XIV of Sweden)

Louis-Francois Lejeune

Pierre Jacques Étienne Cambrinne

Napoleon I

Marshal Louis-Gabriel Suchet

Jacques de Trobriand

Jean de dieu soult.

François-Étienne-Christophe Kellermann

Louis Davout

Pauline Bonaparte, Duchess of Guastalla

Eugène de Beauharnais

Jean-Baptiste Bessières

Antoine-Jean Gros

Jérôme Bonaparte

Andre Masséna

England:

Richard Sharpe (The Sharpe Series)

Tom Pullings (Master and Commander)

Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington

Jonathan Strange (Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell)

Captain Jack Aubrey (Aubrey/Maturin books)

Horatio Hornblower (the Hornblower Books)

William Laurence (The Temeraire Series)

Austria:

Klemens von Metternich

Friedrich Bianchi, Duke of Casalanza

Franz I/II

Archduke Karl

Marie Louise

Poland:

Wincenty Krasiński

Józef Antoni Poniatowski

Józef Zajączek

Maria Walewska

Russia:

Alexander I Pavlovich

Alexander Andreevich Durov

Prince Andrei (War and Peace)

Pyotr Bagration

Mikhail Miloradovich

Levin August von Bennigsen

Prussia:

Louise von Mecklenburg-Strelitz

Gebard von Blücher

Carl von Clausewitz

Frederick William III

Gerhard von Scharnhorst

Louis Ferdinand of Prussia

Friederike of Mecklenburg-Strelitz

The Netherlands:

Ida St Elme

Wiliam, Prince of Orange

The Papal States:

Pius VII

[applejuicefruit]

Kylian and reader where she has a car crash? I love your fluff but I need something that can make me cry 😫😫😫😫

This is pure ANGST i’m sorry😫

I don’t know if i’ll make part 2

One more chance

Kylian’s P.O.V.

Last 5 minutes before the match ended and I just scored my second goal of the night. Unfortunately my girlfriend couldn’t be here tonight to celebrate with me. She was at his aunt birthday party and we both know that family is more important than everything. Plus she hasn’t seen her aunt since she moved here in Paris with me so when she asked me if she could miss my game to see her family I couldn’t tell her no, she was so excited to see them again.

I was celebrating our PSG victory with my teammates in the changing room when I received the call I wish I never received.

“Hello, this is Kylian” I answered the moment my phone rang. It was an unknown number but something told me I should answer.

“Good evening, this is nurse Marie from Saint-Louis hospital” when she said that she was calling from the hospital my heart missed a beat “you are the first emergency contact on miss y/n l/n phone, we are contacting you to let you know that y/n had a car accident and she is currently in our care”.

My phone dropped from my hand.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Kylian?” Neymar called me and everyone in the changing room looked at me.

I couldn’t speak.

I heard the nurse from the hospital keep calling my name but I felt going numb. I couldn’t do anything.

“Ky? What’s going on?” I heard Hakimi asking me.

“Y/n…she…y/n” I kept saying but I couldn’t form a sentence.

Neymar took my phone and spoke with the nurse but I couldn’t heard anything.

“She had an accident” Ney said while speaking with the nurse “she is in a critical state” he said kneeling in front of me.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Kylian look at me” Neymar said grabbing my shoulders “try to copy me” and I started coping is breathing.

“I need to go…to…she needs me” I say trying to be calmer.

“It’s okay we’re coming with you” Hakimi said and Neymar agreed with him.

They took me to the hospital, Hakimi driving at inhuman speed.

When we got there I ran to the front desk asking for information. They told me she was still being taken care of and that I couldn’t see her now so I had to wait.

But I couldn’t wait.

I needed to hold her.

The nurse took us into the ward she was hospitalised and made us wait in the waiting area.

Ten minutes later I saw one of the doctors that was in y/n room coming out from the door.

He saw us and came towards us.

“What happened?” I asked with a shaky voice.

“A drunk man didn’t stop at the sign and went full speed into y/n’s car” he said calmly “we’re still medicating her, she’s in a serious state right now. She has a broken leg, a few broken ribs, a concussion…” he paused and I knew there was more “…she has lost a lot of blood from her head and her right lung is injured…at the moment she can’t breathe on her own…I’ll let you know if something changes” he said but I stopped before he could go.

“Can I see her?” I say almost crying.

I didn’t want to cry. Not in front of my friends. I’ve always strong in front of everyone, I didn’t want to show my emotions but this time I couldn’t hold it.

“I’m afraid not…she still being medicated. I’ll let you know when you can see her” he said going back to her room.

I sat down on one of the bench that was in the waiting area and I started crying. I didn’t care if other people saw me. Neymar sat next to me while Hakimi knelt down in front of me. Both of them trying to calm me down.

“It’s going to be okay” Neymar said trying to be positive “she’s strong, you know her”

“I can’t lose her…I can’t…I needed to be there with her but I wasn’t!”

“Ky calm down please” Hakimi said putting his hands on my shoulders.

“I can’t…I just…what if she doesn’t make it? I just…I can’t lose her, I don’t want to lose her” I said fully on tears right now.

Neymar and Achraf didn’t care if I was crying. They stayed next to me.

The team asked Neymar for news but truth was we didn’t know anything.

After a couple of hours Neymar had to go home to his kid so I was waiting with Hakimi.

4 hours.

It took the doctors and the nurses 4 hours to exit y/n’s room.

The doctor came up to me telling me that I could visit her.

Just me.

In the meantime Hakimi called her family and my family telling them what happed.

The moment I got into her room everything stopped.

She was laying there with her face and arms covered in bruises with a machine helping her breathe.

I sat next to her and I took her fragile and small hand into mine.

“Come back to me” I said while kissing her hand “please…wake up” I continued kissing her hand “I want to see your beautiful eyes again, please open your eyes babe” I said knowing she couldn’t hear me.

I stayed there just holding her hand and whispering soft words for about three hours when Hakimi knocked on the door letting me know that our families were here but I couldn’t go out. I couldn’t see her family. I promised them I would have always protect her and now she’s here because I wasn’t with her. I was being a coward but I couldn’t face them. She’s their only child, I can’t imagine what they’re going through.

I stayed in her room.

For hours.

Hours became days and days became weeks and she still didn’t wake up.

Everyone knew that happened. The whole world knew what happened.

Fans became suspicious when I missed three games in a row. I knew I couldn’t miss more games and that the team needed me so I took all of my anger out in the field helping the team winning every single match.

Before and after practice I would visit her. Everytime after a match. Every night instead of sleeping in our bed I slept on the couch next to her bed hoping that someday she would wake up.

She was in a coma. As the doctors said.

They don’t know when she will wake up. Or if she will wake up.

It’s been a month now.

The police found the man who caused the accident and put him in jail but honestly I wish he was dead.

Everytime I open Insta I see people posting about us and it makes me cry even harder.

Y/n is a good soul. People love her. My fans love her. She didn’t deserve this.

Like every morning I go into her room and I stay with her for an hour before going to training.

Like every morning I sit next to her and I hold her hand.

“Mon amour…I know you can’t hear me…but I need you to wake up please…” I say kissing her forehead. My tears wetting her face.

“I need you sweetheart…I need you back home with me…it doesn’t even feel like home without you. I miss your laugh and your bad jokes” I say trying to light up the mood a little bit “I miss your terrible cooking, I miss everytime you sings your american songs, I miss waking up next to you and hugging you, I miss doing your hair in the morning when you’re too tired to do it by yourself…I-I miss your kisses and your hugs and the feel of your body under mine…I just can’t think of what I would do if you’ll never wake up…I miss you, come back to me please” I say now fully crying.

It was time for me to leave so, like every morning I left hoping to see her awake when I come back.

[letterboxd-loggd]

Naughty Arlette (The Romantic Age) (1949) Edmond T. Gréville

July 16th 2022

[yellowkitkieran]

To Have and To Heal (Part 1)

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

"Søta, you have to go to school."

"Nei! I don't want to papa- I wanna go with you!" 

Martin draws up his dad voice, pointing a finger at her. "Atla Marie Ødegaard, you're going to class and that's final."

Being a single dad is the most challenging role Martin Ødegaard has to play. Captaining Arsenal has its ups and downs, don't get him wrong- but nothing is more complicated than a five year old hell bent on eating a bowl of skittles for breakfast. And bath time? Forget it; he'd rather get red carded and ejected from a match in the first five minutes than have to wrangle her into the tub to wash off the day's dirt. 

Atla crosses her tiny arms over her chest, blonde curls bouncing as she shakes her head. "I'm going with you papa. I'm not going to school." 

Martin sighs, tipping his head back with his eyes closed. They have this argument, or one similar, nearly every morning. Today it’s bargaining to tag along to training and tomorrow it will probably be Atla bargaining for ten more minutes of sleep. Is it too much to ask for one easy day? If his daughter isn't begging to come with him to training, she's refusing to brush her teeth or wear what he's picked out for her. Every day there's some sort of battle… but that's parenthood.

“You have to go.” 

“I don’t want to! Please let me come with you papa.” The slightly pouted lip that accompanies her request nearly has Martin folding. He would jump through flaming hoops above a pit of hungry crocodiles to make his daughter happy, but he simply can’t always give her what she wants, when she wants it.

Knowing he has exactly one card he can play to prevent her impending tearful meltdown, Martin sighs. 

"You've already missed too many days this month, Attie. I'll get in trouble if you don't go, and I won't be able to play if I'm in trouble. You wanna watch papa play this weekend, don't you?"

Atla tugs on her pigtail, frowning at her half finished plate of pancakes. She's a spitting image of her mother- right down to her nose and her fine, light lashes that brush her cheeks. The only bit of him that she's inherited is her fair hair and bright eyes- everything else is wholly her mum. Martin doesn’t mind that- he misses her, and mornings like this only make the ache in his chest worse. 

"Okay papa," Atla murmurs finally, much to Martin’s relief. "But when I get home can we play keepy ups?"

"Of course we can, søta. Papa will always play keepy ups with you. Now go get your bag, make sure you have your book to return to the library."

"Okay pa!" Atla hops off her chair, grinning as she comes around the island to wrap herself around Martin’s leg in a hug. “I love you pa! You’re my favorite pa ever.” 

Martin’s heart turns to mush, “I love you too, lille venn. Hurry up before you make us late again.” 

Raising her on his own is tough, but he wouldn't trade moments like this for all the wealth in the world. Martin loves her smile more than anything.

Martin’s focus shifts to packing his own lunch while Atla bounces up the steps to the second floor to grab her things. His lunch is far less glamorous than his daughters, lacking the sandwich cut in the shape of a star (the only way she’ll eat one these days) and the cherry tomatoes cut perfectly in half. Instead, he shoves a protein bar from the back of the cupboard into his bag, along with two pieces of toast leftover from breakfast. It’ll do, he supposes. 

"Pa- did you pack me a kake?" Martin smiles and hands her a bright pink lunch box of her own before he bends at the waist to pick her up.

"Yes Attie I did, I wouldn't forget the best part would I?" Martin shifts to prop her on his hip, smattering her cheeks with kisses until she giggles and shoves her little fists at his chest. 

"Pa, stop! Stop-" Atla cuts herself off with a squeal, tucking her head to Martin's shoulder. He laughs, smoothing a hand over her hair. His daughter is beautiful, just like her mum. If he concentrates hard enough, he can move past the hurt and remember how similar her laugh was to Atla’s, or how she always sang her to sleep at night. 

Martin wasn’t ever supposed to do this alone. He had a partner at his side, someone he loved with his whole heart and wanted to spend every waking moment with. He dreamed of a family with his wife at his side, with a bundle of children and animals to occupy their time with. 

But no one can escape fate. No one can live forever, and no one can have everything they dream of. These are fundamental truths, though Martin struggles to accept them. 

Martin's smile grows wistful, his demeanor softened by nostalgia. Atla frowns, in tune with his sudden mood swing. "What's wrong pa?" She reaches up to touch his lips like she's trying to make his smile reappear. "Why aren't you happy?"

"You look like your mum today," he says simply, pushing past the lump in his throat. Atla grins, wrapping her arms around Martin's neck for a hug. This is part of their morning routine too, as integral and unmissable as breakfast. 

"You say that every morning papa."

"I know I do, Attie. I don't want you to forget her." The last part is mumbled, more for himself than the toddler in his arms. She'll bounce back- she only knew her mum for three years, not ten like Martin had. It is proving much harder for him to get over their loss than for Atla. For quick flashes, sometimes he resents Atla’s mom for leaving him so soon. Then he realizes almost immediately how foolish he is for even thinking such a thing. 

"I won't forget mama, I promise. No more sad." Atla possesses far too much emotional empathy for such a young girl, though Martin is extremely grateful for it. He isn’t sure he would get through mornings like this without her. 

Martin pulls a false smile onto his face, one that becomes genuine when Atla smiles at him, too. She won't remember her mum in a few years and that's okay. It's Martin's job to teach her about her mum down the road, and that's a job he takes seriously. 

"Good. Now let's get you to school before they call me asking where you are again."

**********

Truthfully, you love your job. You don't mind that you're the designated early arrival teacher; you're an early riser anyway and this allows you to connect with and mentor students beyond your own classroom. You also don’t mind the extra money on your paycheck thanks to the few extra hours you work before and after classes each day. 

Becoming a teacher was in the cards for you since the moment you set foot in a school as a toddler. Out of all your friends, you were always the one offering to tutor them or set up study groups for exams. The idea of molding young minds and you strive to reach as many as possible. You teach a class of fifteen seven year olds, each of whom you love with your whole heart. It's nice to touch the lives of more students of every age, regardless of how small the impact may be.

Today you have a dozen kids in the gymnasium, aged from four to ten. They mostly pair off in their usual groups, as they do most mornings. This early, your job is easy. Most of the children are still half asleep or actually asleep on one of the cots in the corner, like six year old Rose. She loves her morning naps and you envy her on the ones after a late night of lesson planning. 

Other kids play with toys or kick about a football, laughing quietly while being conscious of their sleepy peers. Satisfied that no one is intent on causing trouble this morning, you return to your planner until your calm is interrupted by a shriek of your name. A grin instantly splits your face and you brace yourself for the small body that slams into your legs moments later. 

You bend down to return her hug, "Good morning Atla! Thank you for the hug, you're the best hugger I've ever met."

Martin Ødegaard comes strolling in a few paces after his daughter. Upon seeing her wrapped around your legs he smiles, tapping her shoulder and convincing her to let go with a single look. "Good morning Miss Sunshine," he drawls, his accent notably thicker than normal as he addresses you by the nickname your students have given you. "She's got loads of energy this morning, so good luck."

"I'm sure I can handle her, don't worry too much. I've got coloring books-"

"Coloring books!" Atla shrieks, earning raised brows from the pair of you as she runs off to find them. Children can be simple creatures, requiring little to keep them entertained. Atla, you’ve learned, is one of those children, preferring creative, collaborative activities that involve as many of her peers as possible. You and Martin share a knowing smile when she offers a second box of crayons to a boy sitting near her, pointing to her own page before sliding it between them to share. 

"She does love being crafty," Martin laughs, hands in his pockets. "Anyway, I hope your day is less chaotic than mine is shaping up to be. I'll be back at four to pick her up, I'm assuming you'll be here?" 

"As always.” You tip your head to see around Martin’s broad frame, scanning the room to ensure the growing quiet isn’t anything you need to be concerned about. Once you determine you’re in the clear, your gaze returns to where Martin had been standing a minute before, only to notice him heading for the door. 

“Oh, Mr. Ødegaard- one moment please."  

Martin pauses at the threshold, eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

You smile at Martin, shaking your head. "Mr. Ødegaard-"

"Please, you can call me Martin, I've told you a thousand times." Normally, you have a strict rule about calling parents by their first names when children are within earshot. Parents generally don’t mind, understanding why you do it, but Martin insists on being on a first name basis… Which you can’t exactly say you are opposed to. 

"Martin." Your face heats when he grins, nodding in approval. "There's a permission slip that needs signing if you have a moment."

Martin smacks his forehead, "that's right! I completely forgot- you're touring the stadium this week, right?"

"Yes, we are thanks to you!" You beam at him, "my kids are all excited. None of them have stopped chattering about it since they learned about football in PE- and they're excited for a maths lesson while they're there, which is a feat in itself."

You have no idea how he managed to secure a backstage tour of the Emirates stadium for nearly a hundred students, but you aren’t about to complain. Field trips are rarely this exciting, so this is an opportunity you won’t miss. 

"Attie said everyone's looking forward to it, I'm just glad I could help make it happen for you lot." Martin runs a hand through his hair, looking like he wants to say more on the subject, though he shakes his head. "Right I need to get to work, if I could sign that?"

"Oh- of course!" You hand over the paper you're holding, watching as Martin grabs a purple pen off your desk and signs on the line. He hands it back with a charming smile, hiking his thumb over his shoulder. 

"Duty calls."

You mimic the gesture, "ditto. Have a good day Martin."

Martin's smile grows impossibly wider as he waves to Atla, who returns the gesture and screams her own goodbye. The energetic blonde is one of your more behaved pupils, despite only having Martin to raise her. 

Perhaps it's because of her absent mum that you've grown so attached to her so quickly; whatever the case, she's easily one of your favorites. That isn't to say you don't love each student in your class. You treat each like you would your own child, though some you naturally bond with more than others. Such is human nature, and as long as you don't blatantly show said favoritism, it isn't an issue. 

"Miss Sunshine? Is it snack time yet?"

You crouch down to be level with the student tugging at your pant leg and ruffle his short brown locks. "I don't know, is it? What time do you have snacks Billy?"

"Umm…" the young man taps his chin thoughtfully, foot moving in sync. "Oh! Ten thirty."

"And right now it's what time?" You nod to the clock on the wall, waiting for him to try. Telling time is one lesson you're aware he's currently working on in class, and you'll use every available opportunity to tutor students. Teaching moments can be found anywhere if one knows where to look and how to interpret situations creatively so kids don't get bored. 

"Uhh… it's seven… six?" 

You nod along with him, remaining encouraging, "You're half right, it's seven something. Try again- remember the big numbers aren't the minutes, they're the hours. You have to count by fives, remember?"

Billy nods, face scrunched in concentration. "It's… seven thirty!" 

"There you go! Great job- that's exactly right! So that means it isn’t quite snack time just yet. Why don’t you go color with Attie and see if that makes you less hungry?" 

“Oh- okay! Thank you Miss Sunshine!” You gratefully accept the hug he offers you, then shoo him off to play while the rest of the kids arrive. 

Eventually the clock marks eight thirty (which Billy happily informs you of mere seconds before the bell), and you usher the students to their respective classrooms before making your way to your own room.

You've done your best to create a comfortable, fun environment that fosters learning in all types of kids. There's beanbags they can choose to use instead of traditional chairs. Rows of books in all sizes and subjects line a shelf in the cozy corner, piled high with blankets for students to curl up in. Growing up you hated the harsh white lighting in most schools, which is why you have a few floor lamps scattered through the room to provide a level of warmth. Your prize bin is overflowing with bouncy balls and other little trinkets for kids to earn through academic means or through acts of kindness. 

You sigh, taking a seat at your desk and mentally preparing for the day ahead. It's been a long week and you're definitely glad it's Friday; going out with the girls tonight will be a blessing. 

**********

"Friday night is date night lads, you know that! I can't skip it again or my girl will have my head."

"Martin, you've said no to us for the last month! Just a few hours mate, come on!" It’s true, Martin hasn’t gone out with the team in ages. Being the captain means he knows that he should or he risks unrest within his team, but he’s been consistently putting family first which most of the lads respect. 

Martin shakes his head at Kieran, "Atla loves film nights right now. She won't be little forever Kieran, I need to spend as much time with her as I can before she gets to that stage where she wants nothing to do with me. Besides, I'm not even sure my sitter-"

Martin frowns when his phone chimes inside his locker. He pulls it out to see a message from his usual babysitter, Beth, stating that she is indeed available tonight. Kieran must have stolen Martin’s phone while he was in the shower and fired off a message to her in an attempt to convince him which is, regrettably, working in Kieran’s favor. 

If Martin is being honest, he could use a break. He's felt worn out lately and the idea of letting loose for a few hours seems like the perfect remedy to months worth of pent up stress. Doesn't mean he has to tell Kieran that though. 

"Cheeky bastard," Martin mumbles, glaring as Kieran beams. 

"Now you have no excuse. Two pints! You cannae say no!"

"You buying my pints?" 

Kieran waves a hand, "Yeah sure mate, if that's what it takes to get you out with us!"

"Fine, two pints! But that's all you get, then I'm going home to Atla." Kieran's fist pumps the empty air, clearly excited to have convinced Martin. He jogs off to tell the other boys the good news, and Martin texts Beth to confirm what time she'll need to be over. He still intends to pick Atla up from school, so Beth shouldn't need to be over for more than a few hours later that night. 

Martin checks his watch. If he leaves now instead of waiting to be the last out like he usually is, he could pick Atla up a touch early and maybe still squeeze in a movie. 

After a quick word with Kieran, Martin grabs his things and jogs to his car. Atla's school isn't more than fifteen minutes from the training grounds, which is partly the reason why he enrolled her there in the first place. Of course, the excellent ratings and reviews he read pages of didn't hurt either. 

If there is one thing Martin is certain of, it is that he will do whatever it takes to provide his daughter with the best possible life she can have. Whether that be driving her to a private school across town or dipping out early from training to bring her lunch, he'll always make sure she knows she's loved and has the world at her feet. 

Feigning a doctor's appointment that he apologetically forgot he'd made, Martin convinces the front office staff that he needs to take Atla home early. He waits in the lobby, scrolling on his phone until he hears her melodic voice.

"Hi papa! Why are we going home so early?”

Martin tucks his phone away and crouches to sweep her into a hug. No matter what sort of day he's had, an Attie hug can make all his troubles dissolve in seconds. "Because you have an appointment, little one."

"Oh." Martin has to bite his lip to keep the smile off his face when her disappointment shows. Her brows draw together in the most adorable pout he’s ever seen, until her eyes begin to sparkle when he winks at her. Martin thanks the teacher that walked Atla out, picks his daughter up and shifts her onto his hip so he can sign the paper pushed at him. Once they're safely out of earshot, Atla murmurs, "why are we really going early pa?"

"Papa's gonna treat you to an early film night, how's that sound?" 

"Yay!" Martin shushes her when she shouts, her little body unable to contain her adult-sized excitement. "Sorry pa… can I have chocolates?"

"You always get chocolates on film nights don't you? Of course you can." Martin sets her in her car seat, helping her pull her arms through the straps. 

"I can do it." She lightly slaps Martin's hands away from the buckles and he watches as she studiously straps herself into her car seat. Attie is one of the most independent toddlers Martin has ever met; if there is a task she thinks she can do on her own, she won't stop until she is given the opportunity to try.

She beams triumphantly when she slots the three buckles in correctly, patting Martin's chest with unmatched tenderness. "I told you pa, I can do it!"

Martin shakes his head, leaning forward to kiss her nose. "When did you get so big, hmm? I swear, just yesterday your feet couldn't even touch the seat in front of you, now look." He points to where her pink sneakers have scuffed the back of the passenger seat, leaving little black marks he doesn't have the heart to erase. They're a semi permanent reminder of Atla being this little.

"I'm big and strong like you! And I'm gonna be bigger than you one day!" Atla puffs out her chest in the most adorable way, reminding him instantly of some of the lads. 

"You've been around your uncle Kieran way too much if you've learned that from him. Now tell me what you learned today søta, like you always do."

Martin listens and sneaks glances in his rearview as Atla explains her playground exploits and her foamy-volcano science experiment in colorful detail. Her pigtails bounce when she shakes her head and waves her hands to try and replicate the way the volcanoes erupted when they combined the ingredients as instructed, and Martin's heart aches. 

His daughter won't be so young and innocent forever.

[falcemartello]

La CO2 provoca l’acidificazione dei mari!! E giù a imbrattare statue e quadri per salvare gli oceani! Ma questi giovincelli hanno una vaga idea di ciò di cui parlano? Di cos’è l’acidificazione e cosa fa la CO2?

C’è circa 50 volte più CO2 in mare che nell’atmosfera, anche di più nei primi 100 metri di profondità. Noi dobbiamo essere grati per tutta quella CO2 perché è tutta quella CO2 che evita che il mare sia sostanzialmente un detergente per scarichi.

L’oceano è essenzialmente una soluzione di idrossido di sodio ed è estremamente alcalino, quasi soda caustica con un PH che, senza CO2, sarebbe circa 11,3 (invece dell'attuale PH 8)

Senza la CO2 gli oceani non conterrebbero alcuna forma di vita. Ma se questi imbrattatori studiassero un po’ di più di scienze non sarebbe meglio per tutti? Risparmierebbero anche sulla vernice.

Del resto...

forse molti hanno dimenticato che la nostra vita è fondata sulla chimica del carbonio. Quando qualcuno demonizza le cose più naturali c’è proprio da preoccuparsi.

La cosa più naturale che facciamo è respirare, producendo CO2! Trascurabile?

Un po' di matematica spicciola.

La densità della CO2 è 1,98 Kg/m3 Un corpo a riposo ne emette 0,3 m3 ogni giono Ora moltiplichiamo 1,98*0,3*365(giorni anno)*8 miliardi (persone) = 1.734.480.000 Ton. di CO2 l’anno.

Cioè il 63% della CO2 prodotta dalla UE nel 2021 dai combustibili fossili.

Detto questo sarebbe obbligo che Greta e i suoi compagni, d'ora in poi, si tappassero la bocca... ...per evitare di contribuire non poco, al cambiamento climatico, naturalmente!

Critica Climatica

-----

Infatti uno dei fini è diminuire le unità carbonio, cioè le persone.

[donaruz]

Passata alla storia come “regina del soul”

"Canto per i realisti, le persone che si accettano come sono."

– Aretha Franklin (born March 25, 1942 Memphis ( Stati Uniti) )

ARETHA FRANKLIN 🖤

Soprannominata The Queen Of Soul ( la Regina del soul) o Lady Soul..Forza spirituale e vocale, punto di riferimento della cultura popolare americana, portavoce dei temi più incandescenti degli anni 60 e 70 . Un prodigio del gospel, una delle icone della musica soul e R&B...una battagliera sostenitrice dei diritti civili, considerata la più grande cantante degli ultimi cinquant'anni a livello mondiale, ruolo riconosciuto anche da innumerevoli premi...Senza saper leggere la musica, imparo' da sola a suonare il pianoforte e a 12 anni inizio 'a registrare canzoni cantando nei tour gospel con suo padre...fino a firmare , nel 1956 , il suo primo contratto discografico.. Da allora, la sua vasta produzione di musica soul, gospel e R&B ma anche blues, jazz e Rock & Roll, si è aggiudicata ben ventuno premi Grammy (otto dei quali vinti consecutivamente nella stessa categoria dal 1968 al 1975.

È riconosciuta come una delle più influenti interpreti della storia della musica: numerosi artisti, tra cui Anastacia, Alicia Keys, Beyoncé, Mary J. Blige, Fantasia, Joss Stone, Jennifer Hudson, Usher, Giuni Russo, Giorgia, Chadia Rodriguez ed Elisa hanno citato Aretha nelle loro principali ispirazioni e hanno eseguito cover dei suoi brani più famosi.

Atlantide

[gogmstuff]

Dinner and Evening Dresses of 1910 -

Left 1910 (December) Dinner dress by Beer, Les Modes - photo by Félix. From les-modes.tumblr.com/page/14; fixed spots w Pshop 725X1920.

Right 1910 (December) Dinner dress by Maison Agnès, Les Modes - photo by Félix. From les-modes.tumblr.com/page/23 fixed spots w Pshop 752X1920.

Left 1910 (August issue) Evening gown by Drecoll, photo Reutlinger. From les-modes.tumblr.com/image/519495531581280X1815.

Right 1910 (June) Eevening gown by Rivain & Cie, Les Modes - photo by Félix. From les-modes.tumblr.com/page/27; fixed vertical flaws & spots w Pshop 682X1635

Left 1910 (May) Les Modes Evening gown by Bernard, photo by Félix. From les-modes.tumblr.com/search/1910s; abated streaks & fixed spots w Pshop 1280X1811.

Right 1910 (May) Les Modes Evening gown by Laferriére. .From les-modes.tumblr.com/search/1910s/page/13 1000X1393.

Left. 1910 Baroness Gerda von Chappuis (Mrs F. A. Konig) by Sir John Lavery (auctioned by Christie's) From the discontinued Athenaeum Web site; cropped 679X980.

Right. 1910 Evening dress by ? (location ?). From sartorialadventure.tumblr.com 360X1200.

Left 1910 Evening dress by ? (location ?). From sartorialadventure.tumblr.com 709X1400.

Right 1910 Evening dress by House of Worth (location ?). From costumehistory.tumblr.com/post/180312871593/shewhoworshipscarlin-evening-dress-by-house-of 1280X1679.

Left 1910 Lady by Arthur von Ferraris (auctioned by Michael Zeller). From Wikimedia 714X1003.

Right 1910 Marie Cécile Ney d'Elchingen (1867-1960), wife of Joachim, 5th prince Murat by Giovanni Boldini (auctioned by Christie's). From their Web site 1718X3212.

Left 1910 Mrs. E. L. Doyen by Giovanni Boldini (private collection). From arthive.com/sl/artists/8960~Giovanni_Boldini/works/270437~Portrait_of_Madame_Doyen 1765X3600.

Right 1910 Mrs. Mabel Brooks of Kinmount by Sir Hubert von Herkomer (auctioned). From pinterest.com/ustava51/живописьженский-образ/ 1187X1920.

Left 1910 Peacock dress by ? (Metropolitan Museum of Art - New York City, New York, USA). From buzzfeed.com/deesims/10-stunning-gowns-to-reaffirm-the-belief-you-were-n5qq 638X1681.

Right 1910 Queen Mary photo signed May Posted to Foro Dinastias by Maravilha on 7 August 2010 1160X1600.

ca. 1910 Madame Duchesse Vendome and Prince Charles-Philippe d'Orléans by Boissonnas & Taponier. From eBay; fixed spots and removed mono-color tint 669X1067.

[ellery-six]

The Stone Ocean girls in Mary Blair style :) lol, this sh!t ain't Di$ney, but it could be.

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

Friends, enemies, comrades, Jacobins, Monarchist, Bonapartists, gather round. We have an important announcement:

The continent is beset with war. A tenacious general from Corsica has ignited conflict from Madrid to Moscow and made ancient dynasties tremble. Depending on your particular political leanings, this is either the triumph of a great man out of the chaos of The Terror, a betrayal of the values of the French Revolution, or the rule of the greatest upstart tyrant since Caesar.

But, our grand tournament is here to ask the most important question: Now that the flower of European nobility is arrayed on the battlefield in the sexiest uniforms that European history has yet produced (or indeed, may ever produce), who is the most fuckable?

The bracket is here: full bracket and just quadrant I

Want to nominate someone from the Western Hemisphere who was involved in the ever so sexy dismantling of the Spanish empire? (or the Portuguese or French American colonies as well) You can do it here

The People have created this list of nominees:

France:

Jean Lannes

Josephine de Beauharnais

Thérésa Tallien

Jean-Andoche Junot

Joseph Fouché

Charles Maurice de Talleyrand

Joachim Murat

Michel Ney

Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte (Charles XIV of Sweden)

Louis-Francois Lejeune

Pierre Jacques Étienne Cambrinne

Napoleon I

Marshal Louis-Gabriel Suchet

Jacques de Trobriand

Jean de dieu soult.

François-Étienne-Christophe Kellermann

17.Louis Davout

Pauline Bonaparte, Duchess of Guastalla

Eugène de Beauharnais

Jean-Baptiste Bessières

Antoine-Jean Gros

Jérôme Bonaparte

Andrea Masséna

Antoine Charles Louis de Lasalle

Germaine de Staël

Thomas-Alexandre Dumas

René de Traviere (The Purple Mask)

Claude Victor Perrin

Laurent de Gouvion Saint-Cyr

François Joseph Lefebvre

Major Andre Cotard (Hornblower Series)

Edouard Mortier

Hippolyte Charles

Nicolas Charles Oudinot

Emmanuel de Grouchy

Pierre-Charles Villeneuve

Géraud Duroc

Georges Pontmercy (Les Mis)

Auguste Frédéric Louis Viesse de Marmont

Juliette Récamier

Bon-Adrien Jeannot de Moncey

Louis-Alexandre Berthier

Étienne Jacques-Joseph-Alexandre Macdonald

Jean-Mathieu-Philibert Sérurier

Catherine Dominique de Pérignon

Guillaume Marie-Anne Brune

Jean-Baptiste Jourdan

Charles-Pierre Augereau

Auguste François-Marie de Colbert-Chabanais

England:

Richard Sharpe (The Sharpe Series)

Tom Pullings (Master and Commander)

Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington

Jonathan Strange (Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell)

Captain Jack Aubrey (Aubrey/Maturin books)

Horatio Hornblower (the Hornblower Books)

William Laurence (The Temeraire Series)

Henry Paget, 1st Marquess of Anglesey

Beau Brummell

Emma, Lady Hamilton

Benjamin Bathurst

Horatio Nelson

Admiral Edward Pellew

Sir Philip Bowes Vere Broke

Sidney Smith

Percy Smythe, 6th Viscount Strangford

George IV

Capt. Anthony Trumbull (The Pride and the Passion)

Barbara Childe (An Infamous Army)

Doctor Maturin (Aubrey/Maturin books)

William Pitt the Younger

Robert Stewart, 2nd Marquess of Londonderry (Lord Castlereagh)

George Canning

Scotland:

Thomas Cochrane

Colquhoun Grant

Ireland:

Arthur O'Connor

Thomas Russell

Robert Emmet

Austria:

Klemens von Metternich

Friedrich Bianchi, Duke of Casalanza

Franz I/II

Archduke Karl

Marie Louise

Franz Grillparzer

Wilhelmine von Biron

Poland:

Wincenty Krasiński

Józef Antoni Poniatowski

Józef Zajączek

Maria Walewska

Władysław Franciszek Jabłonowski

Adam Jerzy Czartoryski

Antoni Amilkar Kosiński

Zofia Czartoryska-Zamoyska

Stanislaw Kurcyusz

Russia:

Alexander I Pavlovich

Alexander Andreevich Durov

Prince Andrei (War and Peace)

Pyotr Bagration

Mikhail Miloradovich

Levin August von Bennigsen

Pavel Stroganov

Empress Elizabeth Alexeievna

Karl Wilhelm von Toll

Dmitri Kuruta

Alexander Alexeevich Tuchkov

Barclay de Tolly

Fyodor Grigorevich Gogel

Ekaterina Pavlovna Bagration

Ippolit Kuragin (War and Peace)

Prussia:

Louise von Mecklenburg-Strelitz

Gebard von Blücher

Carl von Clausewitz

Frederick William III

Gerhard von Scharnhorst

Louis Ferdinand of Prussia

Friederike of Mecklenburg-Strelitz

Alexander von Humboldt

Dorothea von Biron

The Netherlands:

Ida St Elme

Wiliam, Prince of Orange

The Papal States:

Pius VII

Portugal:

João Severiano Maciel da Costa

Spain:

Juan Martín Díez

José de Palafox

Inês Bilbatua (Goya's Ghosts)

Haiti:

Alexandre Pétion

Sardinia:

Vittorio Emanuele I

Lombardy:

Alessandro Manzoni

Denmark:

Frederik VI

Sweden:

Gustav IV Adolph