France - Tumblr Posts
Parisian hipster wall art
The UK + France will no longer be countries that are divided by wealth and the class system, instead of rich and poor there will be Muslim + non-Muslim.
Muslims will be accepted into society and privileged, they will receive state funded education and private healthcare, funded by the white taxpayer. Whereas, non-Muslims will not be educated and will instead, scrounge of the leftovers of strong Muslim men. The women will learnt to bear the children of strong Arab seed and the men will learn to suck cock.
This future will soon becoming reality...
Mark my words, France will be the first western country to capitulate to Islamic rule.
1st: Mass Islamic immigration will cause culture wars in urban areas and cause white families to flee to the countryside.
2nd: Muslim majority cities will begin implementing ‘sharia councils’, not adhering to the law of the country.
3rd: These Sharia courts will push for Sharia law to be implemented under a caliphate
4th: Muslims will continue to claim to be an ‘oppressed minority’ despite a spike in islamic birth rates
Final stage: White couples will be ostracized from society. They can only be accepted if they convert, but even then they are still second class citizens
Please don't leave
D'Artagnan x fem!reader
⤞ My masterlist ⤝
A/N: Hiii, so yeah, this is basically my first post of a one-shot I wrote like a year ago but I am still proud of it to this day. At first it was written based on D'Artagnan from the movie The Three Musketeers but later on I realised that it works perfectly with the one from the series as well so you got both of them here haha. I also decided to leave this in a 3rd pov despite reader's involvement in this story. Anyway, please enjoy and let me know how you like it ;D
Warning: none it's just fluff
Summary: D'Artagnan and his wife wake up to another morning in their bed until they realise the daunting truth of what is to come.
♦️ ♦️ ♦️ ♦️
Another cold morning had hit the residents of Paris. The early busy streets were haunted by a mysterious fog and the warm breaths of people talking with each other in hopes of buying something for what little they had. Amongst the civilians, a bunch of feathered hats moved around. The musketeers, the pride and joy of the King's army, were up early and ready to protect their country and their King. All of them but one.
She pulled her bedsheets up, trying to hide from the merciless cold that had crept into her usually warm bedroom. She could use the feeling of his body to fight the cold but found no strength to search for his touch as her place in the bed was partially warmed up by her. As if her thoughts called him, his arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer to his chest. It felt just like the usual morning they were to spend together. Except it wasn't.
The reality hit her like a wild horse and broke all of her dreams of a lovely morning into pieces. "Charles," she croaked. There was no response but she knew he was up, he was a light sleeper, his profession made him to be one. "Charles," she tried again. A sound returned to her voice and finally hit his ears as he snuggled closer to the crook of her neck.
"Oui, mon ange?" he mumbled against her skin, placing a small kiss. It was prickling like a needle as she slowly realized it might have been one of the last kisses she was to receive from him.
"You have to go," her voice shook and she gulped, to swallow the lump in her throat caused by the urge to cry.
He groaned, realizing the truth as well, but choosing to ignore it in favor of more cuddles. "No, we still have time."
She sighed as she glanced at the clock, "No, we don't, the musketeers will be here any minute." She started wiggling, trying to break free from his grip that only tightened, making her break a smile whilst she kept on trying. "I have to prepare you a bath. And get your clothes,"
"No, you don't, I can do it later," he muttered sleepily, pulling her as close as physically possible.
"I do, or you'll have to go through the embarrassment of being dragged out of the bed naked by one of your brothers in arms," she giggled, hitting his hand which had proven to be the right method to make him let go.
"Please don't leave," he begged, setting off a tear down her cheek. However, it quickly dried as she gasped when the freezing air hit her skin, biting into every inch of her naked body.
She quickly dressed herself, and he, unbeknownst to her, was watching her with adoration. All of her motions, the way she tied her hair into a ponytail with a black tie, creating a small bowtie at the top. How she quickly put on her underwear to fight of the spreading goosebumps on her skin, small almost inaudible gasps escaping her lips with each movement. The way she perfectly slipped into the black dress he gave her last winter, the one she wore every time he had to leave her. And after all those times, he learned to despise the dress, wishing he never had given it to her. Wishing she never had to put it on, on another of those mornings.
As she left the room, it was as if a symphony he didn't even realise was enveloping his entire world came to a halt. But then her voice rang across the house and he found himself fighting the cold outside their bed just to get to her. As he washed, she made sure everything was ready for him. She always did. She didn't even forget the small package of food for the way, no matter how many times he had told her that Porthos would bring something. And every time, he made sure to eat everything she packed for him instead of what Porthos had brought.
He was drying himself up when he noticed the unusual silence coming from his significant other. "Why so silent, amour?"
"Just a lot of thoughts," she shrugged, forcing a smile onto her lips, even though her eyes glistened with tears.
His posture softened under her teary gaze, but it didn't stop him from his usual habits. "You don't have to mourn, you know I will be back," he grinned arrogantly, letting out his boyish attitude to reduce her worries. But it was very like him to laugh in the face of Death and then escape, no matter how carelessly he threads the line between life and death. She smiled honestly this time, a small giggle escaping her lips and he wished he could trap it in a jar and take it with him. She opened her mouth to retort back but was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door.
"D'Artagnan, you better not be sleeping or I will break this door down and drag your ass out whether it's naked or not! Athos is already waiting for us on the academy grounds." Aramis' voice roared from the outside. Her eyebrow lifted, glancing at D'Artagnan who was half naked with a towel in his hands. "I suppose you are at the risk of a major embarrassment."
"I'm not if my love makes sure to hold them up for me," he smirked devilishly as she rolled her eyes, already heading for the door. "Sometimes I wish to not do as you say and witness the actual threat getting fulfilled, I think I'd find it more than hilarious," she yelled at him in the middle of her tracks, a mischievous smile, he could see in his mind, painting her lips. "You wouldn't do me that dirty, you love me too much for something like that," he managed to answer while frantically trying to put on his pants.
"Do I really?" she teased, grabbing the door knob and twisting it.
"Hello, gentlemen," she smiled brightly at the two musketeers in front of her. They bowed their heads while holding their hats in an elegant matter, both smiling at her, Aramis appearing to be more joyful than any other time. "My lady."
"Definitely not yours!" D'Artagnan's voice thundered from the other room.
"She will be if you don't come out ready this instant!" Aramis snapped back, throwing a bold wink at the lady of the house. She could only roll her eyes at the cheesy gesture as she leaned on the door frame, preventing the two men from entering any further. She smiled politely. "You will have to forgive me, but I oppose to that idea, unfortunately,"
Aramis grabbed her hand and placed his lips on top of it. "Oh, what a shame, my gorgeous lady," he sighed after holding it for longer than appropriate, only making her chuckle.
"Fortunately!" Charles yelled out again.
"Mon amour, I cannot hold them much longer. Aramis is gonna be all over me if you don't get here soon," a smirk on her face met Aramis' similair one in front of her as Charles D'Artagnan appeared from behind her, accompanied by a loud crash.
He puffed out his chest after his 'graceful' entrance. "Weren't you the one who taught me not to profane the lady?" he send daggers Aramis' way, towering over the two of his friends, "And here you are, dragging my wife into whatever is going on in that head of yours. I think this matter cannot be resolved any other way than a proper fight upon our return," her eyes widened upon the words of her husband as she noticed the challenging sparks in the musketeers' eyes.
"In no way are you fighting after your return. I will be more than thankful to have you come in one piece after those few weeks so don't you even think about getting yourself killed the very next day," she turned around to fix his shirt and coat that was visibly put on in a hurry. However, she did not fail to handle his clothes with rough tugs, a heat rising in his chest from the warning fire in her eyes. "And you better not let him do anything stupid, I know he will try anyways," she turned around again, eyeing the other musketeers who bowed again under the urging flames.
"At your service, my lady," they smirked in Charles' face and set off running when he gave chase and chased them all the way to the front yard and to where the horses were already prepared to set off. She followed them, walking to the front yard slowly with a soft laugh but quieted the second she saw them by the horses. D'Artagnan was still with his feet on the ground and waiting for her with a glint in his eyes. Oh, how she was going to miss his dark loving eyes only ever laid on her and the warmth of his body on all of those winter mornings. Oh, how he was going to miss the sweet, sweet smile of hers and the way her voice sounded between the walls of their house. How he was never looking forward to the deafening silence around him without her presence, despite Porthos' mouth never shutting up during the missions. It was a list of unspoken vows they never told to each other out loud but they could always feel it, the way the world stopped at that very moment.
And without any wait, when she was within his reach, he pulled her into a bittersweet kiss, sending thousands of painful but sweet needles down their lips as both of them knew this may be their last. It was long, full of longing and pain, but mesmerising enough to deafen Aramis' scoff in the back. "Please don't leave," she begged after their lips finally parted, her forehead resting on his. She begged again after he hopped on his horse and again right before they departed. "You know I will come back," he reassured her. And yet, she kept on begging in silence, hoping that he would keep true to his word again just as he did up until now.
♦️ ♦️ ♦️ ♦️
Me when I pronounce one french word right “BONJOUR ITS ME HONHONHOON BAGUETTE”
day 4
30 days writing challenge
day 4: places you want to visit
Everybody knows what I’m going to scream when asked this question; Japan! My number 1 favourite country. I’ve always dreamt of living there since I was very young. As you may or may not know, I'm an otaku and crazy about everything in Japan. 🇯🇵 My dream country.
Next is Korea; I’ve recently started staning the best boy band; BTS and became an ARMY. So the desire to go there is rising with time and needless to say, Korea is a beautiful place.
After that, I want to go to Paris; city of love, I've always wanted to go there too. Whether it be just me, myself or with my friends or with my special someone. It doesn’t really matter, the place is already romantic in its own ways. And then, the big apple, and many more. As I stated in my previous posts, my dream is to travel around the world but these are the places I want to go the most and first.
I hope whoever’s reading a great day! Spreading love around.
~Melody~
Desayuno parisino y con mucho amor para empezar el lunes... 🌹
¡Buenos días! ☕🧇
Vídeo: Zeynep
Las pinturas eróticas del Rococó francés ⚜️
Obra de Francois Boucher, siglo XVIII
En pintura, los principales temas son las fiestas, historias pastoriles, aventuras amorosas y cortesanas. Las composiciones son sensuales, alegres y frescas, predominan los colores suaves y claros. La mujer se convierte en el centro de inspiración. Se abandonan los grandes formatos, se prefiere lo pequeño e intimo. Uno de los artistas mas representativos fue:
François Boucher (París, 29 de septiembre de 1703 - París. 30 de mayo de 1770) fue un pintor francés, que gustó del estilo galante, propio de la época rococó.
Retrato de Boucher por Gustav Lundberg, 1741.
Francois Boucher se formó en un ambiente de decoradores que lo introdujeron en los temas mitológicos y del desnudo. En sus lienzos son comunes las mujeres bellas y sensuales y los ambientes exquisitos. Fue nombrado pintor del rey y a partir de este momento fue bastante criticado por los ilustrados, pues pensaban que el arte debía ser didáctico y no recrearse en frivolidades.
Dos de sus Obras mas representativas:
El baño de Diana: Oleo sobre lienzo. Museo del Louvre, Paris.
El nacimiento de Venus: Oleo sobre lienzo.1.30 x 1.62. Museo Nacional, Estocolmo.
©L'Hotel, Paris
The Toilet of Venus, 1751 François Boucher
༄Sala de estar, en "Le Château du Champ de la Bataille"
༄El Castillo de "Champ de Bataille" fue construido en el siglo XVII por el Conde Alexandre de Créqui-Bernieulles. Este castillo está situado en la localidad de Sainte-Opportune-du-Bosc, a escasos kilómetros de Neubourg, en la Alta Normandía, en Francia. Desde 1992 pertenece al diseñador Jacques García, que lo ha restaurado y remodelado, para lograr que el aspecto del castillo se asemejara al que tenía en el siglo XVII.
Ver "Louis Marie de Schryver (1862 - 1942) French Romantic artist ✽ André Rieu / Sous le ciel de Paris" en YouTube
"Louis Marie de Schryver (1862 - 1942) Artista romántica francesa ✽ Música de André Rieu / Bajo el cielo de París"
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Venus restringiendo a Cupido, 1762 François Boucher