Podcasts about Parisian

Law in a Culture of Theology: The Use of Canon Law by Parisian Theologians, ca. 1120-ca. 1220 (Routledge, 2025) considers the study of law within its intellectual environment. It demonstrates that theologians associated with the schools of Paris in the twelfth century, particularly Peter the Chanter and his circle, had a working knowledge of Romano-canonical tradition and thought about the human context of the law, which, in turn, reflected the environment in which each master worked. It begins by showing the extent to which law was woven into the fabric of the schools of Paris, and follows with individual case studies. These case studies--marriage in Hugh of St. Victor's De Sacramentis and Peter Lombard's Sententiae, excommunication in Peter the Chanter's Summa de sacramentis et animae consiliis, crusade activity and heresy in Robert of Couçon's Summa penitentiae, homicide in Robert of Flamborough's Liber poenitentialis, and the faces of greed in Thomas of Chobham's Summa confessorum--demonstrate how each theologian drew upon legal thought, for what end he was using it, and how his use of law fit into contemporary legal thinking. A competency in law proved valuable to, and was tailored for, different types of ecclesiastical roles: teachers showing students how to analytically navigate complex questions of pastoral care, papal judge-delegate on the cusp of full-time administration on behalf of the papacy, penitentiarius of St. Victor and the students at the University of Paris, or diocesan management. This book will be a useful resource for all students and researchers interested in medieval canon law, medieval theology and pre-modern law. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Law in a Culture of Theology: The Use of Canon Law by Parisian Theologians, ca. 1120-ca. 1220 (Routledge, 2025) considers the study of law within its intellectual environment. It demonstrates that theologians associated with the schools of Paris in the twelfth century, particularly Peter the Chanter and his circle, had a working knowledge of Romano-canonical tradition and thought about the human context of the law, which, in turn, reflected the environment in which each master worked. It begins by showing the extent to which law was woven into the fabric of the schools of Paris, and follows with individual case studies. These case studies--marriage in Hugh of St. Victor's De Sacramentis and Peter Lombard's Sententiae, excommunication in Peter the Chanter's Summa de sacramentis et animae consiliis, crusade activity and heresy in Robert of Couçon's Summa penitentiae, homicide in Robert of Flamborough's Liber poenitentialis, and the faces of greed in Thomas of Chobham's Summa confessorum--demonstrate how each theologian drew upon legal thought, for what end he was using it, and how his use of law fit into contemporary legal thinking. A competency in law proved valuable to, and was tailored for, different types of ecclesiastical roles: teachers showing students how to analytically navigate complex questions of pastoral care, papal judge-delegate on the cusp of full-time administration on behalf of the papacy, penitentiarius of St. Victor and the students at the University of Paris, or diocesan management. This book will be a useful resource for all students and researchers interested in medieval canon law, medieval theology and pre-modern law. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/religion

Law in a Culture of Theology: The Use of Canon Law by Parisian Theologians, ca. 1120-ca. 1220 (Routledge, 2025) considers the study of law within its intellectual environment. It demonstrates that theologians associated with the schools of Paris in the twelfth century, particularly Peter the Chanter and his circle, had a working knowledge of Romano-canonical tradition and thought about the human context of the law, which, in turn, reflected the environment in which each master worked. It begins by showing the extent to which law was woven into the fabric of the schools of Paris, and follows with individual case studies. These case studies--marriage in Hugh of St. Victor's De Sacramentis and Peter Lombard's Sententiae, excommunication in Peter the Chanter's Summa de sacramentis et animae consiliis, crusade activity and heresy in Robert of Couçon's Summa penitentiae, homicide in Robert of Flamborough's Liber poenitentialis, and the faces of greed in Thomas of Chobham's Summa confessorum--demonstrate how each theologian drew upon legal thought, for what end he was using it, and how his use of law fit into contemporary legal thinking. A competency in law proved valuable to, and was tailored for, different types of ecclesiastical roles: teachers showing students how to analytically navigate complex questions of pastoral care, papal judge-delegate on the cusp of full-time administration on behalf of the papacy, penitentiarius of St. Victor and the students at the University of Paris, or diocesan management. This book will be a useful resource for all students and researchers interested in medieval canon law, medieval theology and pre-modern law. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/french-studies

Law in a Culture of Theology: The Use of Canon Law by Parisian Theologians, ca. 1120-ca. 1220 (Routledge, 2025) considers the study of law within its intellectual environment. It demonstrates that theologians associated with the schools of Paris in the twelfth century, particularly Peter the Chanter and his circle, had a working knowledge of Romano-canonical tradition and thought about the human context of the law, which, in turn, reflected the environment in which each master worked. It begins by showing the extent to which law was woven into the fabric of the schools of Paris, and follows with individual case studies. These case studies--marriage in Hugh of St. Victor's De Sacramentis and Peter Lombard's Sententiae, excommunication in Peter the Chanter's Summa de sacramentis et animae consiliis, crusade activity and heresy in Robert of Couçon's Summa penitentiae, homicide in Robert of Flamborough's Liber poenitentialis, and the faces of greed in Thomas of Chobham's Summa confessorum--demonstrate how each theologian drew upon legal thought, for what end he was using it, and how his use of law fit into contemporary legal thinking. A competency in law proved valuable to, and was tailored for, different types of ecclesiastical roles: teachers showing students how to analytically navigate complex questions of pastoral care, papal judge-delegate on the cusp of full-time administration on behalf of the papacy, penitentiarius of St. Victor and the students at the University of Paris, or diocesan management. This book will be a useful resource for all students and researchers interested in medieval canon law, medieval theology and pre-modern law. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/christian-studies

Listener @somestarrynight messaged us from Paris about the @maisonfranciskurkdjian installation at @palaisdetokyo (on until 23 November - so hurry if you want to see it!)As it happens, Laurent from @ostens_official shared smelling strips from the expo at a recent dinner, a reminder of scent's communal, artful side. So although we can't get to see it, we *have* smelled the scents created for it)Perfume: Sculpture of the Invisible (celebrating 20 years of MFK & @franciskurkdjian_official's olfactive artistry - scenting galleries, theatrical performances, music, & places) “has opened up perfume to new forms and destinations, taking it out of the bottle.” - Jérôme Neutres, Exhibition Curator#perfumeprescriptions17-year old listener Sadbh asks for starting points in perfume shopping, balancing jasmine, fresh ginger, roses, amber, and not-too-sweet vanillaOur guidance:@marksandspencerstyle Spiced Amber EDT: powdery depths, amber heart, cedar and geranium@marksandspencerstyle Apothecary Warmth EDP: cardamom, cinnamon, cedarwood, sandalwood for warming comfortNicola notes that niche shop @bloomperfumery's site suggests related scents when you search a name, and well-trained staff at perfume departments can be invaluable - don't be afraid to ask them for help.@tocca Wonders Collection (stocked @theperfumeshop) – £55 for 6 x 5ml EDP:Florence Eau de Parfum: green garden bouquet of gardenia, tuberose, iris; Parisian romance.Cleopatra EDP: grapefruit, jasmine, patchouli—seductive and regal.Stella EDP: citrus and florals with Italian sunshine; breezy, radiant.Lucia EDP: sunlit lemon, vetiver, fig; slow living, luminous.Laila EDP: luxurious indulgence, confident sensuality.Colette EDP: citrus, floral, woods; Parisian literary spirit with daring edge.New fragrances @oliverbonasFig & Tonka, Pomelo & Basil EDPs (£12.50 each)Mandarin & Jasmine, Warm Oud & Saffron EDTs (£20 full size, £9.50 rollers)Also at Oliver Bonas:@floralstreet_: Wild Vanilla Orchid (£28/10ml); vanilla, jasmine, cassis with bamboo and sandalwood.@ghostfragrances Orb of Night (£24/30ml EDP): Dark fruit, jasmine, roasted tonka—sundown to sunrise.We're plotting a full episode on this topic of helping those who feel overwhelmed by choice / want affordable starting points, & will also crowd-source tips from friends of the pod!Nicola talks about the new scent from @granadobrazil AmazonicaThe wonderful Claire @paperbackperfumes asks for a green / woodland-like, non-powdery violet scent…Our picks:@murphyanddaughters Violet Perfume Oil (Melbourne): violet leaf heart, violet flower high note; green and sparkling@orizalegrand Violettes du Czar: violet-forward with green citrus undertones, smoky woods, iris in the background@molinardparfums Violette: violet with black currant, bergamot, lemon; layered floral notes@olfactivestudio Violet Shot: green grass, violet leaf, leather, patchouli; violet with edge

Petal Ashmole Winstanley was just a teenager when she left Perth on her own to sail to London. There, in the swinging 1960s, she began her wild adventure of dance, love and heartbreak.Petal got her first big dancing break in a Christmas pantomime, and then she had a spin as a Go-Go dancer in a Parisian nightclub, before eventually working her way into some of the most prestigious ballet companies in the world.Along the way, Petal fell in love with three great men, and she lost them all under brutal circumstances.Get Up, Dress Up, Show Up: Lessons in Love and Surmounting Grief is published by Grosvenor House.This episode of Conversations was produced by Meggie Morris, executive producer is Nicola Harrison.It explores ballet, dancing, United Kingdom, Dancing with the Stars, love, relationships, marriage, career women, death, grief, loss of a spouse, sexuality, lavender marriages, 1960s, hippies, free love, Western Australia, South Africa, apartheid, genocide, Canada, couples who work together, dating in later life, how to date in later life, online dating after 70, bravery, courage, HIV AIDS, STI, divorce, memoir, writing, books, origin story.To binge even more great episodes of the Conversations podcast with Richard Fidler and Sarah Kanowski go the ABC listen app (Australia) or wherever you get your podcasts. There you'll find hundreds of the best thought-provoking interviews with authors, writers, artists, politicians, psychologists, musicians, and celebrities.

Welcome back to The Sisterhood of S.W.E.A.T., where we help women step into strength, vitality, and purpose — body, mind, and spirit. Today, we're jet-setting across the globe with actress, filmmaker, and travel expert Marcia Kimpton, daughter of the late Bill Kimpton, founder of the iconic Kimpton Hotels. Marcia's passion for adventure and storytelling has taken her to more than 50 countries — and now she's bringing that wanderlust straight to your ears. She joins us to talk about her new dark comedy, An American in Amsterdam, streaming May 1 exclusively on her new app, Kimpton Travels and Films — a cinematic travel platform where you can watch her movies, explore her favorite destinations, and discover luxury travel hacks on a budget. In this twenty-minute conversation, Marcia shares her secrets for clean-eating abroad, how to stay fit while traveling, and the mindset that keeps her fearless and fabulous wherever she goes. Whether you're dreaming of Parisian cafés or biking through Amsterdam, this episode will inspire you to live boldly, travel beautifully, and create adventure wherever you are. ✈️

American rockers We Are Scientists are pioneers of the indie sleaze movement and are currently celebrating the 20th anniversary of their groundbreaking album "With Love and Squalor". It's a double celebration for the group, as they have also just released their latest album "Qualifying Miles". FRANCE 24's music editor Jennifer Ben Brahim chatted with them before their Parisian concert, as part of their European tour.

This week, the Shirley's are in Paris getting their groove on. The ladies discuss the short Shirley getting swept off her feet at a Parisian club, a pair of tasteless Disney-themed boots, crushing the auctioneering game (again) and the stresses of organising a flash mob. Link to aid Salam and Mohammed's family in Gaza:https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-salam-mohammeds-children-survive-and-evacuate-gazaEmail your questions to motherfunk@shirleyandshirley.com!Edited by Kez Sol Owens @kezsolmediaFollow us on Instagram @thetwoshirleys Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The Time Riders: Part 3 What happens when you mix clock-block with priapism? Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Ain't Nobody Got Time For That Shit! Mark and Becky sat in the small cottage, looking around in wonder. They were still in Seventeenth Century France, but found themselves surrounded by technologies that they hadn't even heard of. The walls were lined with clocks, some of which were mechanical, some seemed to be digital or binary, while others told time in ways they couldn't fathom. Sitting across from them at the stout, round oaken table, Chester Edgerton smoked a pipe and observed them casually. "How; how can you have this all out on display?" Mark asked, still gaping. "I mean, isn't it against the rules to have this sort of tech from the future lying around where the locals might bump into it?" "That's the beauty of it, my' boy," he said cheerfully, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "They can't see it." "Well, I get it if you try to restrict entry to your house," Mark pressed, wanting to understand. "But what if you're gone and bandits break in? Becks and I can account for banditry in this day and age, for sure." "Mayhap," the man replied. "But I brought you through the door that leads to my actual house. The front door, the one the local peasantry sees, leads into a simple cottage, typical of the period, and owned by a pudgy man of indeterminate nationality." "Your; house is in two places at once?" Mark asked, trying to understand. "No, it's the same place," Chester answered simply. "Two different times, however. We're sitting in my actual abode, Twenty-First Century." Mark shook his head. "That's some weird Tardis shit right there." "Only at first." Chester allowed. "I notice you have all your windows shut," Becky remarked. "You said we're in the Twenty-First Century, but I take from further ahead than Mark and I are from, so you're not showing us?" "Clever girl," mused the man, smiling. "While I won't absolutely stop you from looking or even going outside, I would warn you that if you do and see something you don't like, you're committing yourself to that future, no matter how hard you try to undo it." "We'll stay put then," she said readily. "You were kind enough to bring us here and sort of explain how we might acquire goods in the time stream?" He nodded. "I know it might seem counter-intuitive, but the simple fact of the matter is that if people are going to insist on time travelling, the least they can do is be well-prepared for it so they don't hurt themselves or others." He leaned forward. "The first question you need to ask yourself is, why are you so intent on time-travelling to begin with? Is it simple curiosity? Are you planning to make a living somehow? Are you just trying to get laid?" He looked at Mark during this last question and the young man blushed, while Becky giggled and patted his hand. "Mark was a dud in Physics in his last year of high school," she explained. "Come to think of it, he was in little or no danger of getting into any post-secondary education facility." "Thanks." Mark muttered. "But, then he found his time machine, something called a Holmes Field Device, and he resolved to go back in time a few months and convince me to give him an A in Physics with the promise of earth-shaking sex." "This story sounds worse every time I hear it." Mark complained. "Fortunately, I acquiesced, rather than disemboweling him for breaking into my home, and not only did we become lovers, but now we're adventuring the time stream together." "Hmm, a teacher and a student, eh?" mused the man, smiling at them as he smoked. "Teachers and students are plentiful, of course, but they're usually from the far, far future and on very strictly-controlled excursions into the past. Hands-on history classes, if you will." "That makes history sound kinda fun." Mark said. "Oh, I daresay it is," agreed Chester. "Nothing quite as exciting as going back to the Cretaceous Period and taking a ride on the back of a trained Styracosaurus. Or watching Dromer races." "Isn't that screwing with the timeline?" Becky inquired. "I mean, humans weren't around for another sixty-three million years following the demise of the dinosaurs." "It's all very carefully regulated on remote islands," Chester explained. "It does nothing to mess with the ecosystem and the specimens are trained to interact with humans, for the most part." "Riding one of those big horned dinosaurs would be a kick." Mark mused, grinning. "You've already got a perfectly good horn I like to ride," Becky giggled, squeezing his hand again. "Besides, this is where our host tells us that it won't be possible for us any time soon." "You're a very perceptive young lady," he allowed. "We can't have just anyone mucking up the time stream, you know. It's especially difficult when people who lived before time travel was commonly accepted try to get involved. They inevitably get exposed to technologies they shouldn't be aware of, or events that weren't known during their own time;” "I'll give you a tiny example," he said, leaning forward now, as if he was confiding a secret. "Have you heard of the Tunguska Incident?" "Sure, the Tunguska region in Siberia, 1908," Becky answered, nodding. "A large meteor slammed into the ground, creating a blast equal to sixty megatons and flattening everything for nearly a hundred miles around." "No, that's what you need to think," he corrected, pointing the stem of his pipe toward them. "It was, in fact, an advanced weapon that was stolen from a future date, and before temporal agents could recover it, the thieves blew it up to cover their escape. Granted, there are people in your time who have conspiracy theories about nuclear blast, nearly forty years before the first atomic tests, but they're wrong as well. It wasn't a nuclear device, simply a weapon with an incredibly high conventional yield by your age's standards." "So; why can you tell us this now?" Becky asked. He grinned and spread out his arms in a gesture of farce. "Who would believe you?" "So how did you know that we were time travelers?" Mark asked as they followed their host and guide through the woods. "Well, I heard snippets of your conversation," Chester said as he led the way. "But to be honest, even though your outfits might pass with locals for 'reasonably authentic', you couldn't possibly hide your origins from a fellow time-traveler. Mark claimed to be Spanish, he doesn't look at all Spanish, certainly not from this era. Miss Rebecca is remarkably tall for a woman." "Well there's something I don't hear very often back home!" she giggled. "And you're both in strangely good health, with unblemished skin and full heads of hair," Chester added. "I was relatively certain, and then I heard you discussing your relative inexperience, so I sought to introduce myself." "I'd' have thought that you wouldn't introduce yourself to newbies," Mark stated, helping Becky over a log. "Isn't it safer to keep your chatter to people who know what they're doing?" "It's actually the exact opposite," replied Chester. "The best thing you can do around veteran time travelers you don't need to talk to is to not talk to them. Their timelines are probably very intricate and you don't want yours getting snarled up with them. Newbies, as you call them, probably still have linear experiences that are simple to understand and educating them about what awaits is the simplest way to keep things from getting weird." Getting up to leave the cottage, Mark asked; "So this device the time cops gave me," Mark stated, holding up his chronometer. "It's actually pretty useful then, because it warns me when I'm getting too close to myself or something I've affected." "That was very generous of them," Chester said in a serious tone. "They don't do that for just everyone who shows up suddenly in the time stream. Sometimes they let matters work themselves out, if you know what I mean." Chester's Forest Farewell.  The meadow they stepped into, had a mature lush forest further back. They reached a small clearing in the forest they'd been tromping through and stopped for a bit, sitting on a fallen tree trunk. Chester looked at them both and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Now then, I've brought you here so that you can witness a casual event that is due to happen just outside the woods. Nothing major, but it will give you a taste of what can await you. I have something to attend to and should be back in a few hours. Just stay out of sight and don't leave the tree line." "You're leaving?" Mark protested. Chester turned to look at him. "It might be that the events you will see unfold work better for me if I am nowhere near them," the man replied. "Fear not, I shall return. Enjoy yourselves." And then he walked into the woods and was gone. Mark looked around and finally sighed. "Helluva way to mentor someone," he muttered as he stood to take in a panoramic context. "Take 'em somewhere and then just fuck off? Nice." "He's not your mentor, Mark," Becky chided, sitting on a log and smiling at him. "He's a fellow time traveler who is doing you a favor. He's given you plenty of valuable information free of charge already, something I doubt he does frequently." "Well, okay," Mark allowed. "So, we just wait until we see something happen?" "No idea when that'll be, he didn't really tell us, did he?" Becky pointed out. "Yup," Mark sighed. "So, now what?" Becky tilted her head slightly as she looked at him, like there was something wrong with his brain. "Here's an idea. How about you come over here and fuck me?" Mark was so determined to be bent out of shape for having no instructions that he'd overlooked the completely obvious. He laughed and stepped forward, pulling Becky to her feet. They were holding their hands between them and staring into one another's eyes, smiling. "Now this is what time travel is all about," she purred, her eyes shining with delight. "You're going to fuck me in the woods in Louis the Sun King's France, Mark. For all we know, this is some sort of royal ground and we're trespassing. How many people can say they've done that?" "Just the lucky ones;” he replied, beginning to unfasten the clasps on her dress, freeing her chest from its confines. As the dress fell away, she was left standing on in a low-cut, blouse-like shirt and some panties, having chosen to forego the usual layers of buntlings and knickers. She bit her lip as he pulled her blouse over her head, exposing her glorious tits. Kneeling now, he slowly slid her panties down, feeling a thrill as her hairless, smooth cunt came into view. She stepped out of the tiny thong panties, letting him drink in the sight of her. Yes, he'd been with her for over a week now in France, but he never tired of seeing her beautiful body. "Your turn now, my lord." Becky whispered as she began removing his clothing, peeling away the layers until he was as naked as herself. She stood up again and moved close, her nipples gently kissing against his chest. Unable to hold back any more, Mark pulled his teacher to him and kissed her deeply, making Becky moan into his mouth. Their hands wandered over one another's now-familiar forms, seeking to stimulate, tease and pleasure. His hands found her pert ass cheeks and he squeezed them, causing her to moan again. "Hmm, can't wait to get some grass stains on this dress," she murmured, looking up into his eyes. "And maybe a few on my knees." She slowly knelt in front of Mark, kissing and nipping at his skin on the way down. His swelling phallus was in front of her face now and she licked her lips hungrily before taking gentle hold and kissing it. Mark closed his eyes and shivered, loving the feel of her lips on him. Everything about his teacher was incredible. He was just sorry it had taken so long to realize it. Becky now had the head of his cock inside her warm, wet mouth, swirling her tongue around flicking the tip of her tongue against him. She giggled as his rod throbbed and grew longer and harder. She loved how turned on he could get by her, it made her feel so primal and sexual. She then slid her mouth a little further down his shaft before pulling back, shivering in delight at the sight of his glistening skin. Mark's fingers were in her hair and flexing gently as she began to bob back and forth, taking more and more of him into her mouth. She hummed lightly, vibrating her lips around him and making him groan. Her hand rested on the shaft, pumping as it followed her lips, making a gentle twisting motion on the sensitive skin. Becky loved sucking cock, and Mark's was ridiculously perfect for her, in just about every possible way. She hoped that wouldn't be a problem down the road. She took gentle hold of his hips with both hands and moved back and forth along his shaft, breathing through her nose as she deep-throated him. Mark groaned in pleasure, his fingers flexing into her scalp and tugging her hair. She looked up at him, maintaining eye contact, which she knew he found so erotic. She could feel his skin growing warm and knew now was the time to stop and change things up if she intended to have his cock inside her. There was indeed one good thing about them being out of sync, with her current self three months behind him; they already knew she wasn't pregnant in his current timeline, so he could cum deep inside her as much as they liked. She pulled her mouth off his with a wet 'pop!' and smiling seductively. "I'm thinking maybe my girl wants to say hello too;” she purred. Mark nodded and spread out her dress before lying down on it, his rock-hard cock standing straight up and throbbing. Becky crawled over him, straddling his face, her creamy, wet cunt mere inches from his mouth. She faced down his body, giggling and he snaked his tongue out to taste her, but she kept her prize just out of reach. "So that's how it is, eh?" he said from below her before suddenly wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling down on them and causing her to lurch unexpectedly (for her) onto his eager mouth. Becky shuddered and moaned loudly as his tongue snaked along and massaged her nether lips, before flickering against her throbbing clit to make her gasp and almost double over. "No fair;” she panted, trying to regain control of herself, but Mark seemed inclined to cheat. He kept her pinned to him, leaving her to squirm helplessly above him while he lashed her with his tongue. "Uh, you bastard; yes, right there; Oh, God, Mark;” Her pleas exhorted him to even greater measures. He was determined to make her cum on his mouth at least once before they fucked. And he seemed to be pretty damned good at making her cum with oral sex, he had to say. Becky squirmed on top of him, playing wither tits, pinching and pulling on her pink nipples, her eyes squeezed shut, because it almost felt too good if she was looking at him. His eager tongue snaked deep inside her hungry cunt, making her wetter still. He had this maddening technique where he formed shapes or letters inside her with his tongue, reaching almost every nook and cranny of her. She whimpered, knowing he intended to make her cum and she was more than happy to oblige. She leaned forward while sitting on his face, reaching out to his twitching cock, caressing and massaging it gently; she didn't want him to cum, she just wanted to keep him stimulated. She felt the thrill of anticipation, knowing it would soon be inside her, pumping in and out, throbbing and finally releasing his creamy essence into her, something she accepted gladly because of the temporal mechanics between them. Mark sucked her clit into his mouth, rolling it around and making her shudder, groaning deeply as something started to build within her. She pushed down onto his face with her hips, grinding eagerly, while her clit throbbed. Then her released it and pushed his tongue deep inside her again, probing and lashing her until she was writhing and panting heavily. "Oh, God, Mark;” she gasped, sweat streaming from her sensual form. "Oh, fuck, yes, please; Uh, so close, baby;” He pushed into her as hard as he could and she jerked and squeaked arching her back. Her whole frame was wracked with pleasure as she cried out loudly, the orgasm crashing through her until she almost couldn't breathe. She shook violently, her eyes rolling into her head before she collapsed on top of him, her body limp and her chest heaving. Her limbs felt like tingling lead, but she managed to lift one to find his cock, determined to keep him hard until she had recovered. She stroked him gently while he kissed at her gooey nether lips, his face glistening with her cum. Fortunately, Becky was insatiable and recovered quickly, slowly rising and then sidling forward down his body so she could look back at him and smirk. "How about it, big boy?" she asked coyly. "You ready for the main event?" Mark grinned and nodded while she slithered down his body, finally hovering over his hips while facing his feet. She took hold of his throbbing cock and teased it against her slippery entrance before sinking down, making them both sigh in relief. "Hallelujah;” she moaned as he bottomed out inside her, filling her completely. "Oh, that's exactly what the doctor ordered." Mark nodded and took hold of her silken, pert ass cheeks and gripped them firmly, making his teacher purr. Becky loved having her ass played with, and while she began to sink up and down slowly on his cock, he massaged the peach-like orbs, eliciting moans from her when he spread them wide, giving her a delicious stretch. "Hmm, get me nice and ready back there," she cooed as she moved up and down on him. "Because once you're done in my cunt, I want you in my ass and I want to feel your cum in it." Mark nodded eagerly, because he loved fucking Becky's ass. Her cunt was incredibly tight, but even that couldn't match her exquisite back passage, which gripped him so strongly and always made him cum so hard he thought he might faint. His fingers teased against her little puckered, pink knot, sending the most divine tingles through her luscious body. Becky undulated on him, picking up the pace and counting on Mark to control himself until her was in her ass. She bit her lower lip, working herself on that thick, throbbing tool, pulling up until it was almost out of her and then sinking back down in one long stroke, filling her completely. Her heart was strumming in her chest as she thrilled to the notion of the oncoming climax. She was hissing now, struggling to hold on just a few seconds longer, to draw out this wonderful pleasure for them both. But then she felt the point of no return and willingly stepped over it, moaning loudly as her cunt fluttered and she began to cum, hard. She wailed and rocked on her lover, bathing his middle with her excitement. Her head lolled for several seconds as she came down from her orgasm, but she remembered that she still had Mark inside her and needed him, promised him, that he would be cumming in her ass. Slowly, lethargically, she raised herself until his cock fell out of her, still rock-hard and yearning for more. For such a young man, he had exceptional control. She inched forward, until she felt his pulsing head teasing against her notch. She reached underneath herself and took hold of the shaft, holding him steady while she pressed down, slowly but surely. She heard him groan as the head popped through her tight ring suddenly and then he was sliding inside her. It was Heaven. She sat still for several seconds, just reveling in the feel of him filling her ass. She felt the need to be sensual, and she leaned backward, until she was resting her back on his torso, her head next to his. But her knees were still bent and she groaned like she was going to burst, the angle of his penetration in this position more than she could bear. Whispering for him to wait patiently, she slowly, sinuously slid her legs out from beneath herself and straightened them, relaxing in pleasure as they rested on Mark's thighs. "Sorry, that would've downright killed me right now," she whispered to him, her glassy, heavily-lidded eyes looking into his. "And I wanted to be down her to kiss you and let you fondle me as you fucked me and came in me." "Sounds like a plan," he agreed readily, his strong, but gentle hands coming up to rest on her opulent tits. Her began caressing and massaging them in circles while Becky started moving her ass on top of his cock, squeezing him inside her tight confines. "God, I love your ass, Becky." "Umm, it loves your cock, Mark," she purred, undulating on him, the throb of his tool being felt through her whole body like another heartbeat. "You always make me cum so hard;” They squirmed and ground together, with Mark tilting his hips up to push inside her while Becky squeezed him, the lovers shuddering as they kissed feverishly. His hands were squeezing her tits now, pinching and pulling on the nipples again to make her groan with the delicious sting. But Mark felt his climax approach and he knew it wouldn't be long before he was pumping his cum inside her. Becky moaned into his mouth as she felt his cock swelling and twitching erratically, a sure sign he was about to cum. She squeezed him tighter, feeling the buildup inside herself, yearning to share that unreal ecstasy. The groaned into one another mouths at first, but then the kiss was broken as they panted, fighting for air, their voices carrying around the woods they were in. He pushed up hard inside her, pulling down on her tits while she squeezed with all her might, his cum almost searing hot inside her, filling her up. Mark went limp, breathing heavily and clearly spent, not that he minded. Becky could barely move, bound in ropes of silken bliss that kissed every nerve in her body. Her own heartbeat plus the relentless throb of Mark's rigid cock, still oozing inside her, almost meant she didn't know how to center herself. But they relaxed together finally, kissing gently, eyes closed while they clasped hand on top of her tits. Tongues softly tangled, tasting one another while they let their rapture slowly ebb. Minutes passed and they lay silently, waiting for Mark's cock to soften so Becky could sit up. Finally, she giggled, squeezing his hands. "Feels like somebody doesn't wanna go to sleep," she said cutely, wiggling her ass on him, feeling her ass refusing to relinquish its hard-earned prize. "What're we gonna do?" "Iono," he said drowsily. "We just wait, I guess. If I try to have another orgasm right now, I'm pretty sure he'd just spontaneously combust inside you." "Alas, poor cock," she cooed, stroking his cheek. "I guess we happily wait, then." They closed their eyes and relaxed, waiting for Mark's erection to subside so that they could get up without difficulty. Their hands remained at rest on her tits while they nuzzled their cheeks together. Then there was a 'click!' sound. Arrest in Flagrante delicto. Becky's eyes snapped open and she goggled up at a man dressed in rather colorful and opulent period clothing, staring down at them as he pointed a flintlock rifle at their face. Looking around, she now saw they were surrounded by men carrying pikes and muskets, all of whom stared at the naked couple with varying level of interest. The man directly over them moved his musket muzzle, indicating they should sit up. Mark's eyes were open by now and he glanced around in confusion as well, clearly not understanding what had happened. The man's eyes narrowed and he moved the musket muzzle again. Becky, sensing the danger they were suddenly in, tried to move, but shivered; she was still impaled on Mark's solid cock, which had shown no signs of softening and kept her pinned against him. She couldn't get up. "Great time to develop priapism, Mark;” she said sourly. "Maybe Louis the Sun King's France just isn't for us after all," Mark sighed as he hiked along behind Becky, who had been stuffed hurriedly back into her dress while he was allowed to put on his breeches again. Neither of them even had shoes on as they followed the soldiers. Their hands were tied behind their backs. "This is twice now that we've;“ "I know, Mark, I was there," Becky said somewhat tersely, wondering if Chester Edgeworth was now someone she had to add to her shit list. She hated adding names to the shit list. "I guess we were so busy fucking that the event our host meant for us to witness has found us." "Tais-tois!" one of the men guarding them said as he walked nearby with a musket. "Vou ne pouvez-pas parler!" Becky scowled at the man and continued trudging. She wasn't really embarrassed about being caught fucking, it wasn't the first time it had happened to them here in France. But at least this lot had the decency to let her have an orgasm first before taking them prisoner. She couldn't even enjoy the grass stains on her clothes! They had exited the woods and were now tromping through a field, heading toward a much larger cluster of soldiers. Mark couldn't help but notice that a lot of them were wearing red. "Shit;” Becky muttered as she saw them as well. "That's all we need." "Huh?" Mark asked, but he was silenced when a soldier shoved him roughly from behind with his musket, indicating he was to stay quiet. They approached the encampment and Mark soon realized there were several hundred soldiers. The tents were spread out around one rather illustrious red tent of grand size. He then saw a cluster of cavaliers milling about and they seemed to be headed in that direction. Soldiers stared at them as they entered the perimeter of the camp, usually at Becky. Mark and Becky found themselves hauled in front of the cavaliers, who parted, making way for a single man on horseback. He was at least middle-aged, with a somewhat grey pallor to his skin and thin, hawk-like features. His expression was a rather lemony one, as if he felt inconvenienced by this entire incident. For all that, though, his dark eyes glinted with intelligence. He was wearing the flowing red habits of a high-ranking member of the Catholic church, although he had a burnished breastplate on his chest as well. "You stand in the presence of his Eminence, the Cardinal Richelieu," announced the captain of the troops that had taken them prisoner. Mark's eyes went wide. He didn't speak French, but he'd seen enough Three Musketeers movie reboots to know who Cardinal Richelieu was and exactly what sort of deep shit they were suddenly in. "Show respect!" Becky dropped to one knee and bowed her head, looking at the ground. Mark rapidly followed suit, since she probably had a better grasp of the situation than he did. He could feel everyone's eyes and on them and it was beginning to weigh heavily, like a yoke around his neck. His face flushed, but he said nothing. "Who are these persons?" the cardinal asked finally. "Your names, my children." "My name is Rebecca, your Eminence," Becky said humbly, still not looking up. "And you, good sir?" the Cardinal asked, looking over at Mark now. "M; me llamo Marco del strade, tu Eminencia." Mark stammered. "A Spaniard," mused the Cardinal, pursing his lips. "In the presence of a peasant girl. And you both have unusual accents, I admit." "Your Eminence," said one of the captains, looking at them suspiciously. "This man, why is he here traipsing about Champagne like this? With this peasant girl? We found them in the woods, doing unspeakable carnal acts to one another." The Cardinal's eyebrow arched and he looked on in seeming distaste. "You don't say." "Very likely he is a spy for King Phillip, your Eminence!" said the captain, almost sneering. "No, your Eminence," Becky said suddenly, her voice full of concern. "I assure you, he is no spy!" Mark hadn't heard or understood everything the Frenchmen were saying to one another, but he understood 'espion' and his teacher's reaction indicated that he was in some kind of trouble. Go figure. "And what grounds can you give me to believe you, child?" the Cardinal asked with feigned interest. "Please," she begged, her head still bowed. "You have my utmost assurances he is no spy, he's an idiot!" This made the men around them laugh and even Richelieu grunted in amusement. "Both of you rise." Mark saw Becky get to her feet and he did the same. All around them, men with pikes and muskets were watching them warily, some of them levelling weapons at the pair. Clearly they took the Cardinal's safety seriously. Richelieu observed them with interest. "The girl is very unusual," he mused. "Tall, very healthy and very beautiful. Very, very beautiful. I know only one other of such unmatched attractiveness." Mark wasn't sure where this was going, but he doubted it was good. The Cardinal's interest in him was waning. "And yet you say you found her acting in a most carnal and un-ladylike manner in the woods, hmm?" Richelieu continued. "Well, it certainly won't do for her to be out here alone in the countryside, rutting like a nymph, would it? Perhaps her majesty could make use of the girl, once we fix her atrocious accent." "My what?" Becky snapped, looking offended now. "Put her in the cart, we'll bring her to the capital, with regards to the Queen." Richelieu declared, turning his horse about and riding off. Men began to try and wrangle Becky into one of the carts, many of them laughing and leering as they took the opportunity to grope her. Gut shot. "Hey, stop that!" Mark said angrily, surging forward, but he suddenly found himself confronted by a captain, who stared at him impassively. There was a sudden and frightfully loud 'crack!' sound and Mark halted suddenly, his eyes wide. Becky's head snapped around at the noise and her eyes went wide. Blinking, Mark slowly looked down and saw there was a very red puncture hole in his abdomen. Sounds slowed down, taking on an almost syrupy quality and he started to feel confused. Becky screamed and tried to force her way to him, but she was being hustled away by many guards. The man who had shot him wandered off, sliding his flintlock pistol back into a holster, clearly no longer caring about Mark. Everyone seemed to be wandering off now. He felt cold, and vaguely nauseous. The ugly red wound in his stomach pulsed, blood welling from it slowly. He felt himself toppling over, white light bathing the field around him. He could still see things, but they seemed distant. He tried to focus on something, finally identifying Becky's voice as she screamed for him. He could just make out the soldiers wrestling her into a cart while she struggled and kicked savagely, her face contorted in rage. "I'll Get You For This, Richelieu!" she roared as Mark's world was absorbed by the soft white light. "You Just Made The Shit List Of High Doom!! See If I Ever Dance A Sarabande For You, Pal!" Mark bolted upright suddenly, gasping. His eyes were wide and he was covered in sweat. His heart thundered in his chest and he fought to control his panic. The white light was slowly replaced by close walls of grey stone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing. His hands bunched against sheets that were covering him. Finally, he could breathe normally and he tried to organize his thoughts. He still felt confused, everything a total jumble. "Calm yourself. Think!" He'd been fucking Becky in the woods. Apparently they were waiting for Cardinal Richelieu to go by, which he guessed passed for a historical event, seeing the man. But the Cardinal's soldiers heard the two of them and took them prisoner. Then they took Becky and Mark tried to stop them and got shot in the stomach; His eyes snapped open and he was frozen in place. He forced himself to look down at his middle, seeing that he was still covered in a sheet. His hand was trembling as he moved it slowly toward the heavy, dun-colored blanket, sweat trickling from his brow as he felt fear rise in his throat. He flung away the sheet suddenly, unable to bear not knowing. He wasn't bleeding. There was no puncture wound, only a strange, round scar about two inches in diameter. Eyes wide, he slowly lifted his head and looked around, now noticing his environs; he was indeed in a small bedroom, the curtains drawn to keep out the light and very little in the way of décor. Just a chair and a table in one corner, some other surfaces with candles spaced around the room. His bed was solid and comfortable. "Ah, there you are," Chester Edgerton said as he came through the door. "I was beginning to think you had no intentions of waking up." "Where;” Mark said somewhat feebly. "Back at my place," Chester answered, sitting down in the chair and settling in for what was no doubt going to be a long and perhaps trying conversation. "I found you lying in the middle of the field nearly a kilometer from where I'd left you and you were very close to dead." "How did I;” "You should have died," Chester continued. "But ultimately you wouldn't have, due to a time lock, I'm assuming. You weren't meant to die there in that field. Luckily for you, there are still plenty of ways to get yourself killed for doing absurd things." "Why did you leave us in the first place?" Mark asked. "I've been around Richelieu and several of his captains at various points in the time stream, and it's getting difficult to manage," Chest replied, shrugging. "Best way to deal with that issue is to simply not be present." "So why leave us there?" "To see Richelieu, of course," the man said simply. "One of history's truly great men, certainly more so than that twit of a king he serves. I was just trying to ease you into the idea of witnessing historical events. It never occurred to me that you'd be found because you made your teacher yodel like a Swiss Miss when you flagranting the delicto with her. I admit I hadn't planned for that nonsense." Mark blushed. "So, what, I wasn't meant to die here, so my body just healed itself?" Chester laughed. "Oh, no, dear boy, nothing of the sort. I came back to the woods, as promised, as when you weren't there, I began noticing the tracks of many solid shoes and boots in the vicinity. Not to mention the clothes you left behind." "Yeah, sorry, I was kinda tied up at the moment." Mark muttered. "In any event, I followed the tracks, noticed that Richelieu had broken camp and then found you. You'd been lying there for nearly three hours, you should have been dead from blood loss, but you weren't. I brought you back here, removed the ball from your stomach and then healed you." "You can do that?" Mark asked. "I thought you said you were a dealer in chroniques." "It helps to have a few irons in the fire and some hidden talents if you're going to mess around in the time stream," Chester replied. "But I was under no obligation to complicate my life and save you." "I guess I'm glad you did," Mark sighed. "Thanks. But wouldn't I have healed anyway?" "Yes, but maybe not fully," replied the enigmatic dealer. "You might've been found by some local peasants, brought back to their hovel and spent life as a weakened vegetable until you died of the Plague. People die in the past all the time, Mark, and everyone in their own era thinks they just disappeared and mourns them. It's frightfully common." "Can I; can I see the tools you used to heal me?" Mark asked hopefully. "Nope," Chester replied, shaking his head. "They're from your future by a few hundred years, the only reason I used them at all was because you were out cold." "Uh, how long was I out, anyway?" "Almost a month," Chester answered, smoothing a corner of his pencil moustache. "I had you fully healed and ready for action by the next day, to be honest, but you just refused to come to. So, I just left you to it, figuring you would wake up when you felt like it." "Oh, shit," Mark breathed, realizing something. "Where's Becky?" Chester raised his hands. "Why would I know? I wasn't there. What do you remember?" Mark tried to concentrate while Chester got up and poured a glass of water. Mark drank it thirstily and placed the glass on the table. He found himself wishing that he'd taken French instead of Spanish in school. He'd thought Spanish might be more useful, but all it did was get him shot. Fuck that. "I don't really speak French, so this is hard. Umm; they thought I was a spy because they thought I was Spanish." "Because you've been presenting yourself as Spanish while you're here," Chester mused. "In spite of your outrageous accent. France has been at war with Spain on and off for some time now." "Whatever," Mark grumbled. "They seemed really interested in Becky." "To be expected, she is quite lovely. I dare say I've only known one woman in this entire era to match her beauty." "Well, I think I heard them say 'capital', and then I think 'la reigne', which means queen, right?" "Indeed it does," Chester agreed. "My bet, then, is that your teacher has been taken by the Cardinal to be presented as a gift to her majesty, Queen Anne, to serve as one of her ladies-in-waiting." "Why would he do that?" Mark asked, frowning. "I've seen enough Three Musketeers movies to know that the Cardinal and the Queen hate each other." Chester smiled. "It's a game he plays with her. As the years go on, Anne is, sadly, getting 'a little long in the tooth', to borrow a phrase. She remains dignified and regal, but her best days are behind here, where attractiveness is concerned. Richelieu now takes great delight in surrounding her with women of magnificent beauty, seemingly a gesture of devotion, but really meant to hurt the queen's feelings." "What a dick." Mark muttered. "You have no idea," Chester said dryly. "If they got her back to the city roughly a week after she was taken, then she's been with the royal court for three." "Meaning that she's either loving life as a lady-in-waiting, or she's killed and eaten them all," Mark said heavily. "I guess I have to go get her." "I can't imagine this not being amusing," Chester said, smirking. "But out of morbid curiosity, how, exactly, will you affect this rescue?' "I dunno," Mark said, shrugging. "But I can't leave her. She'd kill me." "She probably thinks you're dead, I feel obliged to point out." Chester mentioned. "She saw you suffer a mortal wound at point-blank range. You should be dead and only an as-yet undetermined temporal snarl has kept you alive. I wouldn't count on that again if I were you." "Well I can't do nothing!" Mark insisted in frustration. Chester tilted his head, observing his guest for a moment. "Do you love this woman?" Mark blushed furiously. "I; no, I don't love her, or if I do, then I'm not in love with her. There's a difference, ya' know." "Well and truly said, Boccaccio," Chester chuckled. "Well, if there's no stopping you, then I'll see what I can do to discretely help you." "Why?" Mark queried. "I've got a friggin' time machine. All I need to do is get there, zip in and zip out." "Correct me if I am wrong," interjected his host. "But did you not tell me, early on in our association, that your current self is from three months in the future of the Miss Rebecca that I know." Mark nodded. "And you plan to add another layer of temporal travel on top of that wedding cake of disaster?" Chester mused. "Rebecca could be subtly altering the timelines in Paris now with her very presence, involuntary as it might be. Your oh-so-carefully laid plan could simply not work because of a slight temporal consideration." "So you're saying no time machine." Mark stated flatly, not impressed. "I'm saying the idea is bad. Atari Jaguar bad," Chester replied. "If you intend to do this hare-brained thing, allow me to assist you in what moderate ways I can." "What, you've got some funky tech or weapons you can loan me?" "We'll see about that, but more importantly, I guess I'll call in a favor. A certain person who moves in the circle of the royal court owes me a small boon, and I can use it to assist you. They happen to be an accomplished master of intrigue and getting out of sticky situations, with a blade if necessary." Mark's eyes lit up. "Is it D'Artagnan?" "Only if you want to get Clock-Hammered out of existence," Chester laughed, shaking his head. "Everybody wants to meet Charles de Batz, thinking they're going to see D'Artagnan of Three Musketeers fame, and then it just turns out he's a bad-tempered Gascon who loves to punch people who bother him. He's punched more time-travelers than Jesus, I'm pretty sure." Chester then went over to a drawer and rummaged around inside it, finally pulling out a yellowing envelope that was sealed with wax. "I assure you, the agent I am referring you to will be much more effective than D'Artagnan. I will send you with instructions about where in Paris to meet them and offer them this envelope. Warning, though, if they see it is opened, they will simply refuse to help and go away to where you cannot find them. Are you strong enough to keep from opening the letter?" Mark nodded. "Well, then," Chester announced, opening a bottle of wine and pouring two cups. "Shall we drink a toast to your success, o Macro del Strade of Seville?" Palace Mission. Mark was sitting on the back of a hay wagon, wondering if he could really pull this insane plan off. In addition to the letter, Chester Edgeworth had indeed furnished him with a few small devices and curious that they hopefully would help him, though it cost him almost all the rest of his money. Chester pointed out he was a businessman and didn't intend to take a loss just because some idiot created a time crisis for himself. Fair enough. Mark tried not to play with the little bud that sat deep in his ear; Chester had sold it to him, saying that it could translate languages, speaking into Mark's ear whatever he was focusing on. It could also possibly formulate phrases; if he spoke in English, it could tell him the closest translation to what he was saying. This model was old, though, and only spoke the French of this period. Chester didn't want him getting any clever ideas with a more powered-up version, since if something bad happened, it might come back on him. The reasoning initially annoyed Mark, but the more he thought about it, he reminded himself that he was here to rescue Becky. Nothing else. He thought about the conversation he'd had with their host while drinking wine and planning his initial move, heading to Paris. "So why did you begin time-travelling at all?" the man had asked. "Well, I;” Mark started saying, unsure of how to answer. "I found a time machine. Seems perfectly logical to use it." "Granted, but what's your personal motivation, Mark?" he asked. "Is it to see glorious historical events, are you a treasure hunter, a thrill-seeker who wants to run with the Dromaesaurs?" Mark blushed now. "Honest? I thought it'd be cool to have sex with women from history." To his amazement, Chester didn't laugh uproariously, he simply smiled and shrugged. "More common than you would think, especially amongst men your age, who are full of hormones. Let me ask, then; was getting laid in your own time-period difficult?" "Not really, no." "Well it's not any easier in the time stream, just so you know," Chester pointed out. "In some periods of history, it can be even harder, where religious fervor runs rampant and sexual repression is the law of the land. I assume you wouldn't go as far as to rape a girl." Mark shook his head. "Lots of men do when they find out that having sex in the past is harder than they anticipated," Chester said almost sadly, shaking his head. "You're one of the better ones. But for all that, the problem remains; getting into bed or a rug with Cleopatra is pretty much next to impossible. You might as well hope to seduce Scarlett Johansson when you're no one in particular." "Hey, I got Becky, didn't I?" Mark had protested. "Dumb luck, really, and she's a remarkable woman. Have you had sex with any women aside from Becky since you came to the Sun King's France?" He shrugged. "A few, I shared 'em with Becky." "Peasants, I assume?" "Mostly, yeah," Mark admitted. "There was one sophisto girl, but Becky did the talking and charmed the knickers off her for us." "If it weren't for Becky, you'd be completely out of your league here, boyo," Chester said simply. "And trust me, it won't get easier. Even history buffs who think they know everything get caught and pay the price. There's the history you know, the history you don't know, and the history that you don't know that you don't know." "What?" "What year did World War Two end?" Chester asked. "Simple. 1945." "So you know that. What year did the Crimean War start?" "I've heard of it, but I don't know anything about it." "Something you know that you don't know. Okay, tell me about the League of Ages Twelfth Nicean Temporal Council." "The what?" "Exactly," Chester had said emphatically, leaning forward and pointing with his wine glass to make a point. "An incredibly important historic event that you've never even heard of, but it happened all the same. Can you imagine trying to do something that conflicted with that? You wouldn't even know what clock-hammered you, or why; because only a practiced temporal traveler would be aware of the event at all. Time travel can be tedious." "It's certainly becoming less and less fun by the moment." Mark grumbled. "Probably the smartest thing you've said since you found that Holmes-Field Device," Chester agreed. "Life would be a lot easier if casual nitwits like yourself walked the other way when a time machine appeared in their path." "But don't you make a living selling to people like me?" Mark asked. "Hardly," Chester almost snorted. "Nitwits like you rarely have anything to even pay me with and usually require drastic amounts of assistance. No, my friend, the majority of my income is derived from customers who hail from the far future where time travel is an established industry and carefully regulated. Now those people are my bread and butter." "Did Becky and I really stand out?" Mark asked somewhat dully. "More and more with each passing moment," Chester answered. "You're too tall, too healthy, you have all your teeth, and your accents are absurd." Mark said nothing. "And by the way," added his host. "Those little packets of Airborne that you both carry in your pockets? The little Vitamin C boost things to ward off the sniffles? I can guarantee you that those will in no way, shape or form protect you from illnesses in this era. Only thing it'll do is turn your piss such a bright yellow that people will think you're possessed and the Inquisition will burn you." Mark ended up leaving the packets as a curio that Chester could sell to people from the future who wanted to snicker at how dumb people from the turn-of-the-millennium were. Carting to Paris. He had arranged transport to Paris with the wagon he was now on, making sure the farmer put some extra perk in his horse's step by offering him twice as many sou as was normal. The journey, which would normally take a week, with good weather, was promised to six days because of the extra money. Whatever the difference was between six-day speed and seven-day speed, Mark sure couldn't tell it. His communication with the farmer had been sluggish, certainly, mostly on his end, because he would try to say exactly what his little translator bud told him and he probably sounded like he'd had a stroke when he was speaking. The farmer laughed at his speech, but still did as he was asked. Mostly they slept at the side of the road in the piled hay, but one night they stayed in a roadside inn. Mark's funds were running out fast, even though the food he ate was paltry and rather unappetizing. He had to reach Paris. They then trundled through the town where Mark and Becky had first come to; and Mark hid himself in the straw, figuring it was best to not be seen by people whom he might be familiar with. Even if the innkeeper's two daughters would no doubt readily fuck him again. He fought the temptation to ignore Chester's instructions and simply go get his Holmes-Field Device and use it to rescue his teacher. But he disciplined himself and refrained, he was in enough trouble as it is.  Then he meditated; Known knowns. Known unknowns. Unknown unknowns. Fuck. The days and nights passed with Mark trying to keep himself from growing crazy by practicing his French and thinking of his plan. He had no idea whatsoever about what to do once he reached Paris. Get inside the royal palace? He couldn't exactly Google the plans for it, could he? "Regardez la!" the farmer said finally, calling back to Mark and pointing toward the west. As the sun was rising behind them, he could make out a sprawling sea of darkness in the distance, the silhouette of which prickled the sky. Endless plumes of smoke hung over the city as deep grey gave way to dawn behind them. He thought it might actually be pretty. And then the wind wafted over them from the west, bringing the unique scent of fabled Paris. "Jesus!" Mark croaked as he turned green, leaning over the side of the wagon and puking his guts out while the farmer roared with laughter. They entered the city. Mark wandered through the choking maze of streets, gaping at the chaos of architecture around him; houses seemed to almost be built on top of houses, to the place where some of them were leaning over almost drunkenly. The cobblestones of the road were wet and sticky with effluence, there was no way to avoid it. The stench was beyond belief. How had people ever lived like this? He had asked on repeated occasions where he could find La Rue de Grenuie, the place Chester had told him he would find the agent he'd referred to. Mark was reasonably certain most people were being helpful, even if they stared at him like he was an alien. He might as well have been, he was a head taller than just about everyone, clearly well-fed and had all his teeth. Mark had seen jack-o-lanterns with more teeth than most of the denizens of Paris' infamous streets. He took many wrong turns, because where he thought people had told him to go was often a dead end. Eventually, by divine providence, he found himself on the street he'd been asking for, evidenced by an ancient, worn rectangle of wood that said the name in faded green letters. Certain he was on the right track, he headed down the crowded street, stuffing his purse into the front of his breeches, since Chester had told him Paris was home to countless scoundrels who could remove his wealth without him even noticing. The crowds began to thin out somewhat, and the street got narrower, as if that was possible. The cobblestones were also surprisingly dry, not sticky or running with the sewage of the city behind him. Before long, it was barely wide enough to accommodate one person and he felt very uneasy about the rickety buildings that loomed over his head, almost blocking the sky. He then stopped in front of a black iron fence, pitted with age and with a chain wrapped around it. He tilted his head and unwrapped the chain, finding that the gate now swung open freely and with decidedly little noise. He stepped in, closed it behind himself and then fixed the chain back in place as best he could. He found himself walking through a tunnel, the buildings about him now made of stone. Dank and foreboding, he resisted the urge to run, not knowing what lay ahead. Eventually, he came to a small, bare courtyard. It might have been thirty feet by thirty feet and was devoid of almost all decoration. High brick and stone walls concealed it from the chaos of Paris. It was surprisingly quiet, as if the city dared not disturb the austere serenity. There was a single, grey stone bench in the middle of the courtyard. Facing away from him, clad in a great cloak, was a person, the hood thrown over their head to keep the merciless sun off them. Mark swallowed and took a deep breath before beginning to move forward. Was this Chester's agent? If he was, Mark had to be careful, because he'd been told the man was dangerous. He approached slowly, finally coming to a stop some five paces away, still facing the stranger's back. "Hello," he said faltering French. "My name is Mark. I have; sent; to you; today; for big help. I is need big help." "That you do, my friend," replied the person in a strangely lyrical voice. Then closed a small book of devotionals wwhich had clearly been studied and stood, still facing away. "That much is obvious, because your French is painful." Mark blushed in embarrassment as the translator bud told him what the person had said. Still concealed beneath their voluminous midnight-blue cloak, the mysterious person turned around and approached him. He resisted the urge to take a step back as the shrouded presence stood right in front of him. He couldn't help but notice the person was on the taller side, strange for a Parisian. Gloved hands pulled down the hood and Mark's eyes widened in amazement. Shining golden hair spilled in luxurious tresses down the person's back. The eyes were a dazzling blue, glinting with intelligence. The smile was serene, the teeth within white and perfect. Lady Alexandra. <

In this edition of our arts24 music show, Jennifer Ben Brahim chats with French multi-instrumentalist and producer Max Baby. A career in music was always on the cards for him, having made a drumkit at age six out of old biscuit tins. He dropped his debut record in 2024, and a year on is back with his EP "Break". It's a blend of post-modern indie, alt-rock and electro, and deals with the aftermath of losing control and the quiet that follows. He is also embarking on a European tour, with his first Parisian headline show.

The Time Riders: Part 2 When you've got a time machine, practice makes perfect. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Always The Student. Mark was lying on his back, panting while Becky squirmed and writhed on top of him, moaning in pleasure. His hands were on her opulent tits, kneading them just how she loved it. The lovers were covered in sweat as she ground her cunt down onto his cock, taking him deep inside. He matched her sensual rhythm, pushing up while she pressed down, squeezing his shaft with each thrust he made. "Yes, Mark;” she gasped, her hands resting on his chest while she writhed on him shamelessly. It didn't matter that she was his former high school Physics teacher, or even that she still was, in a sense, she was committed to fucking him because she'd promised herself she'd enjoy this, and Becky did her damdest to always follow her own advice. "Yes, baby, right there;” Becky now began gyrating her hips in a circle on top of him, interrupting the rhythm that would certainly had led to both of them cumming and she wanted to prolong this session. She felt Mark regain control of himself, adapting to the new pace, although he continued to molest her tits, pinching and tugging on her nipples. Her flawless skin glistened with her exertions, the wonderful scent of a woman making love permeating the air. "Hmm, good boy," she purred, smiling down at him. "You're learning." "I've got the best teacher I could ask for." Mark replied, grinning back. "Forget all the time travel stuff you're helping me figure out, you're amazing in bed, Becky. I've never cum so hard before, not like when I'm with you." "You're so sweet, darling," she cooed, reveling in the feel of his throbbing cock deep inside her. Ever since that night he'd snuck into her home and failed so miserably at trying to seduce her so she would change his Physics grade, they'd become ardent lovers, with her being nearly as addicted to their sex as he was. "You make me cum really hard too, just so you know. And the gift you brought me back from London was so thoughtful. How would you like to fuck me next?" Mark nodded, pondering her question. He had indeed brought her back a gift, from London in the 1880's. He'd come back with a lovely dress from the period and a bottle of Italian wine. Even though she had never accompanied him on a temporal trip (except that very first one, to prove he had a time machine at all), she seemed to have an innate understanding of how to time travel without screwing things up, which was very easy. He took hold of her hips and slowly rolled her onto her stomach. She purred as she pushed her legs together and then knelt over her thighs. She put her chin on her arms and sighed as he pulled her ass cheeks apart and pushed his cock down into her cunt. Her clamped legs made her feel tighter than ever and he groaned in pleasure as he bottomed out. Keeping himself up on his hands, his back arched so that she was pinned beneath him, he began to piston his hips, fucking his teacher. "Oh, Mark;” she murmured. "It's so good this way. Your cock feels so wonderful inside me." "Uh, God;” he breathed, shuddering as she squeezed her cheeks together, clamping her cunt around him as he thrust. "I never wanna stop fucking you." "I don't want you to," she gasped as he hit her sweet spot. "And because you; oh; have your time machine; we can find a way; to fuck forever;” She squirmed and writhed beneath him while he pushed up and down on her, both of them getting slick with sweat. They groaned and panted together. He leaned down and bit her shoulder Becky keened in pleasure. Trembling, she arched her hips, pushing up against him. She could feel his cock twitching and swelling inside her. "Gonna cum;” he breathed, pushing down and straining. "Uh! Yes, cum in me, Mark!" she wailed. She pressed her face into a pillow as she screamed, feeling her student's cum spurting inside and filling her spasming cunt. Mark shook and groaned loudly, so glad they were in her house and could be as loud as they needed to be. Her slammed his hips down onto her, tingling pleasure blossoming through him. Mark collapsed on top of her, both of them limp and breathing heavily. He reached under Becky and put his hands on her tits, squeezing gently. She hummed and undulated her soft cheeks beneath him, milking his cock for all of his cum, her wet cunt wanting every last drop. They said nothing for several minutes, just lying there in bliss. Becky finally slowly turned over, Mark's cock slipping out of her and they wrapped their arms around each other, kissing deeply. He pushed his still-hard cock back in and moved back and forth gently inside her and she squeezed him in rhythm. Tongues tangled and they hummed contentedly into one another's mouths. "God, I want to find a way to have multiples of you fucking me all at once," she purred, smiling into his eyes and caressing his cheek. "One in my cunt, one in my ass, another in my mouth; hmm, that sounds heavenly." "Yeah, but won't I, like, blow up spontaneously, or collapse the universe if I encounter myself?" he asked somewhat warily. He liked the idea of fucking all Becky's holes, but not if it made everything go boom. She giggled and bopped his nose. "Silly. Why are you asking me? You're the one with access to this time-travel police force. What did you say they were called? TEA?" "Yeah, they said they're called the Temporal Enforcement Agency." Mark confirmed. "I called them Teabaggers and they didn't think that was funny." "Oh, be nice to them, darling," she chided gently. "After all, they're protecting the timeline for crazy kids like you." "Yeah, I guess," he admitted, knowing she was infinitely more sensible than him about these things. She was already so much smarter at this temporal stuff than he was. The only reason his little trip to 1800's London went well was because she'd prepped him and made him think it through. "Getting myself killed is apparently pretty easy." "Boo, and then we couldn't fuck anymore," she said, sounding sad. "And even if you stopped time-travelling tomorrow, I'd still want to fuck you. You've unleashed a demon in me." "I know it," he laughed. "I have to rest a few days after our marathon fuck sessions, only to come back in your next day to keep up with your libido. Not that I'm complaining, mind." She giggled. "Well I do love to fuck," she agreed. "Maybe one day, I'll go with you. I'd love to fuck in a harem bath house or a Parisian brothel." Mark rolled off her and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He could almost see the steam rising off them. As tricky as time travel was, he never would have ended up in bed with his Physics teacher if it hadn't been for his time machine. "That chronometer the agents gave me comes in really handy," he said, his thoughts drifting. "It actually gives me little warnings if I'm getting too close to another temporal event. It means I can't do some things I'd like to do, but things get complicated." She smiled. "You said they called it 'the Limelight Effect' or getting clock hammered, depending on what you were trying to do." He nodded. "They didn't like it when I called it 'clock-blocking'." "You said they had no sense of humor." Becky mused. "But maybe practicing with your Holmes Field Device in minor ways will help." He turned and looked at her. "How so?" "Well," she began, turning on her side to look at him, her hand propping up her head. Her nipples gently kissed the skin of his arm. "How about you take me out for dinner? We'll pick a low-traffic area, somewhere time travelers don't go. You said that your chronometer dials are difficult to physically turn and the Holmes Field device always skews numbers if you're trying to get anywhere that would prove troublesome." He considered what she was saying. "So, take you to some remote village in the past where no one else is ever interested in going. We can try finessing my control of the device." She nodded. "Precisely. I don't know about you, but I speak flawless French, we could visit a little village in France's past and we could get some dinner. You could learn how to deal with the locals, get a feel for what you'll have to do if you keep travelling the time stream." "It's weird how you can say words like 'time stream' so naturally, like it's normal," he sighed. "Still, you're right, careful practice is probably a good thing." "It'll be fun," she said, reaching over and taking hold of his hip to turn him into her. Her tits were now squashed to his chest, his soft cock against her gooey cunt. "How bad a teacher can I be for this? You made it through my physics class without tearing a hole in reality." "And yet I failed," he sighed. "I doubt I can fuck my way out of every bit of trouble I get myself into." She giggled and took his hand, pulling him off the bed and leading him to the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet to pee while she stroked his cock gently, She shivered as she peed, feeling his cum trickling of her, pulling him closer and taking him in her mouth. She hummed as she bobbed back and forth, enjoying their mingled taste. Mark had to admit that he was enjoying how relaxed she was around him now that they were lovers. "So," she said finally, pulling his cock out of her mouth with a quiet pop. "We'll shower and get cleaned up. Then we'll head to the public library to figure out where and what we're doing. Anybody asks, I'll say I'm helping you with your schoolwork." He smiled slyly, feeling a familiar tingle in his cock at the thought of showering with her. This was going to be a good night. "So here's a question," she remarked as she watched Mark get dressed in the outfit they'd bought for the occasion, hidden from prying eyes in her basement, where he kept the Holmes Field Device. They'd visited a costume shop and found clothing that was a good fit for the period they were visiting, that being France in the 1600's. "Did they ever tell you about any contacts you can make in the time stream? You know, like dealers?" He looked at her quizzically. "Dealers?" "Sure," she said, nodding. "There must be time-travelers who make their living by providing goods and services to other travelers. I mean, you need to be able to get money and supplies somewhere, so that you don't stick out like a sore thumb, right?" "Yeah, that'd make sense," he admitted. "I mean, I got lucky when I tried going to London and got that dress, I managed to pawn off some knick-knacks I'd brought with me, because I didn't know how else to pay for anything. And they thought I was just some ignorant American. I got out a lot quicker than I thought I would." "I think we should find out," she reasoned. "If you're going to do this, you should really learn how to find what you need." "Exactly how much time-travelling do you think I'm gonna be doing?" he asked, giving her a wry look before continuing to put on his new outfit. "Well, we know you have no future as a physicist, maybe you'll find something you're good at in the time stream," she giggled, making him sigh. She moved forward to help him get into his clothes, since he clearly had no idea what he was doing. "And even if you don't know how to find a dealer, I'm willing to bet that they'll know how to find a traveler." He couldn't argue with that logic and stood still while she corrected his attire, kissing his nose as she finished. He then watched as she got into her own period garb, doing so much more efficiently than he had done. She saw him looking at her and winked. "In spite of my physics major, I also did a lot of work in theater," she quipped, holding her top loosely in place over her opulent tits. "I've been in Les Mis a few times, so I know my way around period garb." "I feel bad about you bringing that jewelry to trade for money," he said, wishing he had more to offer. He didn't just yet, however. "Oh, they're nothing, it's just old gold I never wear," she said dismissively. "I'd probably just end up selling them in a pawn shop at some point. This way, at least it's getting some use. I sell these things I never wear, we get the proper currency, then we go and have some fun. I don't see how this can be a bad thing." "I guess I just feel like it should be me paying." Mark murmured, trying not to blush. "Silly," she giggled again. "You're an eighteen year-old boy. What one earth could you possibly have accumulated that the time stream would be interested in?" "Well, you got me there," he sighed, giving up and letting her continue. "Maybe I'll make it big in the time stream and then I can keep you buying you the presents you deserve." "Ooh, you honey-dripper," she cooed, smiling and kissing his nose before stepping back and examining him. "Well, you're starting to look the part. I'll use some gel in your hair to tousle it a little and then I think we're probably as close as we can get, since neither of us has syphilis or tuberculosis." He waited while she fixed his hair and then took care of her own, pulling her golden locks back in a bow. She was wearing a peasant dress, one that accentuated her small waist and large bust. His outfit, was more akin to a gentleman of northern Europe, with a blue vest and white breeches that he found rather tight, especially around the crotch. "So, milord," she lilted, threading her arm through his and smiling at him. "Shall we sally forth?" He nodded and walked over toward the time machine, his chronometer in hand. 17th Century, France. "Combien allez-vous me donner pour ce pendentif?" Becky asked the owner of the dingy little shop they were standing in. Candles flickered on the walls, dimly illuminating the musty room. The shop-owner, a wizened little man wearing crooked spectacles, looked up her with rheumy eyes. He held out a gnarled hand and she gently put the dull gold bangle into it. Her brought it close to his face, examining it intently. He weighed it in his palm and then scratched the inner surface, testing its contents. He licked his lip as he considered her offering. Finally he put it down. "Onze Louis," he declared, nodding. "Onze Louis, quatre livres, douze sous et vingt-et-trois deniers." Mark looked at Becky, who was considering what he had told them. After a few seconds, she seemed to think he was being reasonable. "Bien. Tout en livres et sous, s'il vous plait." The man counted out one hundred and sixty-six sous and pushed them across the counter. His eyes widened slightly as she pushed a gold necklace and two rings to him for appraisal. Half an hour later, they exited the shop with a small purse containing the equivalent of nearly fifty Louis, a small fortune by the standards of the period and their locale. "Here you go, milord," she said sweetly, pressing the purse into his palm. "It's only appropriate that you carry our funds, since you're the one cosplaying as the aristocracy." "Except my French sucks balls." Mark muttered as they walked down the dirt road. It was mid-morning and they'd arrived in a fallow field outside the town. Google maps indicated that it was empty in the modern day and online archive maps from France in 1652 indicated that it was much the same way back then. With careful calculations of time and distance, they'd arrived without incident. "Well, you speak Spanish, so we'll pretend you're from Madrid or something," she said simply, holding his arm again. "And I'll be the lusty French tart from Rouen who travels with you, keeping you enamored with our fair country." "You'd be stupidly good at Larp, you're really getting into this," he sighed. Larp?” Live action role playing. Any other hidden talents I should know about?" Mark inquired. "If I told you then they wouldn't be surprises," she pointed out. "We women love to be mysterious." "Well, at least you're a woman, most of the girls I know who do that stuff are just crazy." "That's because they're teenage girls, who are, by definition, 'bugfuck insane'." Becky added. "A lot of women are too, I suppose, but at least there's a chance our hormones have straightened out. Probably not much different here, except for the mortality rate." They walked down the cobblestone rode, attracting the occasional stare as they walked into the town. They stopped a stout, middle-aged man and asked where they might get some decent food and accommodations. "You are dressed rather unusually to be walking," he said, looking at Mark. "You seem to be a gentleman of quality, sir. I am the town's physician and apothecary, my name is Henri. And yours, monsieur?" Mark stuttered. "Mark, uh; mon nom; es;” "Marco," Becky interjected suddenly, relieving him of the burden of struggling to make his name known in French. "He is Senor Marco Del Strade, and he is a baron from Valencia." "I thought I was from Madrid." Mark whispered out of the side of his mouth. "Shut the fuck up, I'm thinking on the fly here!" she hissed back. "What did the Spaniard say?" asked the portly physician. "That didn't sound Spanish." "A curse of our association," she said sweetly, beaming a radiant smile at him. "The baron speaks no French, and I no Spanish, so we communicate en Anglais, with which we both have some facility." "A rather unusual arrangement," grunted the man. "Nonetheless, it would not do for our humble town to allow a gentleman of quality to not be looked after. I would recommend L'Auberge Des Loups." "The Wolves' Inn?" Mark muttered out loud, knowing enough French to get that translation. "That doesn't sound too safe." "Be at ease, my friends," Henri said, chuckling. "The wolf is on our town coat of arms, and the Inn is our most reputable establishment. If you have the money, they will give you what you need." He turned and pointed down the road. "There, you can see the inn from this spot. The two-story building with the gambrel roof and all the smoke coming out of the chimney. See it?" "Yes, good sir, and we thank you." Becky said, curtseying before smiling at the man and putting his rather fat, gout-ridden hand in hers. "For all of your help." "Ah, well, yes," he said, blushing and withdrawing his hand from hers. "When you go to the inn, tell the proprietor that Henri sent you. This will make things easier for you." And with that, the man waddled off. "He seemed nice, I guess," Mark mused as they resumed their trek into the town. "I mean, I missed a lot of what you two said, but it seemed to agree with you." "We just need to mention his name when we get to the inn and that'll apparently make our lives easier." Becky replied, thinking how quaint everything was. She couldn't believe she was actually in seventeenth century France! But then, she was fucking her former student who was a time-traveler, so clearly anything was possible. She had already promised herself she would enjoy every moment of this experience. She'd chosen the year as carefully as possible, noting that there were no major Plague outbreaks mentioned and she had insisted they bring very discretely concealed medications with them. Ignoring the stares of the townsfolk, they continued down the main street until they reached the inn. They tacitly avoided stepping in the various effluences that trickled between the cobblestones and stepped over the unconscious peasants who were sprawled in the middle of the street before opening the faded green doors and entering. Dark and musty, lit by wall sconces and an ancient wrought-iron chandelier overhead in which guttered many candles, the large common room was like something out of an HBO special, minus the lighting budget. Large, round table dominated the space, while a great hearth and a long counter encompassed most of the back wall. Lots of sun-browned peasant faces turned to look at them while some stringed instrument plunked away from a corner. The place smelled of smoke and what was probably body odor. Still ignoring the stares, Becky led Mark up to the counter, behind which stood a surly-looking man with a black moustache and beard. He observed them with interest as they approached. Mark stood silently while Becky addressed the man in French. "My lord the Baron is looking for clean and welcoming accommodations for the night," she began, indicating Mark. "Henri sent us to you, saying that you were the establishment in this town worthy of his business." "If you can pay, then yes, we will be able to room you comfortably," he answered, looking at Mark. "Our best room is one livre per night. I assume the baron can afford this?" She looked at Mark now. "A single night is one livre. Those'd be the silver coins. Get one out and just give it to him, without showing how much you actually have." Mark nodded and fished out one of the coins indicated, putting it on the counter for the proprietor to inspect. Satisfied, the man nodded. "This will cover the room. If his lordship has need of a bath or food, we can provide these things as well." "Fresh food?" she asked pointedly. "Only the freshest for the lord," laughed the man loudly, causing people nearby to chuckle. "Is he a mute?" "No, he is Spanish and speaks no French," she said flatly, fixing the man with a hard look. "You can speak to me, his servant, if you feel the need to communicate. You can bring him food now, and your finest wine, good sir." She then turned and took Mark's arm, leading him over to an empty table in the corner, once again ignoring the gazes that followed them. She sat down and sighed, nodding. "We'll eat and then see about the room and a bath," she declared, looking around and taking everything in. "If it's big enough, I'm sure we can get into all sorts of trouble in the tub." "I'd like that," he said, finally relaxing. "I'm glad you're taking to this so easily, because I'm way out of my element. London in the 1880's was hard enough, and all I was doing was pretending I was an American traveler. France in the time of the Louis the Sun King, that's a little out of my league." "Don't worry, once you hit your stride, you'll do fine," she said gently, patting his hand. "I've just had more weird experiences over the course of my life than you have and am adapting a little quicker is all." A jug of wine, two goblets, some hearty bread with butter and some onions and cheese was brought over by a wench who looked like John Rhys-Davies in drag. She belched and tottered off, having delivered her goods. "Although I'm not so sure about adapting to that." Becky said, shaking her head to clear it of the image. She unstopped the jug and poured the dark red wine into their goblets while Mark portioned out the bread, butter, cheese and onions. They both dug in, finally realizing how hungry they were. "Oh, wow, that's good," Becky remarked, looking into her goblet, having tried the wine. "Just remember to eat a lot of bread and butter, Mark, or you'll have the hangover from hell." He'd never had a wine quite like this before and they quickly polished off the jug before ordering another. They finished their bread and cheeses before being presented with a roasted suckling pig and two pheasants, stuffed with local herbs. They enjoyed eating, but the wine was strong enough to eventually get through all the food they'd lined their stomachs with. Becky was giggling and tipsy within the hour. "I can't beli; believe we're here in France," she said, her head tilted to one side. "An' we're gonna fuck; in the tub; an' then in our room, because; because; defiling the timeline; sounds like fun. It's fun, you know, to fuck across history;” "It is," Mark agreed, not as drunk as Becky but still feeling rather buzzed. His tongue felt thick from the wine, which she had explained was not treated with any modern pasteurization process and therefore would be full of tannins and sediments they would need to account for or suffer an assured hangover. "And you're the person I'd want to do it with, Becks;” Becky giggled and slid her hand along his leg, finally arriving at his crotch and giving the bulged contained in the tight breeches a squeeze. "You're not; not a time cop; you're a time cock; timeless cock;” Some musicians had come in a few minutes earlier and were sitting in another corner of the common room. They struck up a lively tune on their lutes, fiddles and a small drum. Becky's eyes lit up as the music reached them. "Oh, I love this song!" she said loudly in English before hopping up from the table and dancing her way with abandon into the middle of the room. People watched on and began to clap and cheer as she stood on a table and began capering. "How the hell does she know this song?" Mark wondered, frowning as he watched his Physics teacher begin to dance and sing. Ah! Si mon moine voulait danser! Ah! Si mon moine voulait danser! Un capuchon je lui donnerais Un capuchon je lui donnerais Danse, mon moine, danse! Tu n'entends pas la danse Tu n'entends pas mon moulin, lon la Tu n'entends pas mon moulin marcher. Mark watched in wonder as she tottered back over and flopped onto the bench next to him, breathing heavily and perspiring. She grinned at him lopsidedly and winked, still obviously rather inebriated. "Why did you know the lyrics to that song?" he asked, utterly baffled. She poured herself more wine and drained her goblet in one gulp, with a very loud Gluck! noise. Clearly, she was intent on partying. "Went to; a Catholic school; run by nunsh;” she slurred, trying to fill her cup again. "Lotsh of shingin' to; keep our little teen girl mindsh; off sheksh; Fuckin' love that shong, used to shing that shong; all the' time; fuckin'; great to dansh to;” "Yes, I noticed," he said, nodding and smiling. "You were almost flashing your tits and your cunt at the; the patrons;” "They can peek; but no touchy;” she said, taking another drink. "Thish pushy; only for you; I think; we'll shee;” She turned and looked at him, her eyes glazed and her skin flush from her exertions. "We're here; together, Mark, but; if you; ya' shee a girl ya' wanna fuck; I'm okay with; with that. "Jus' don' get the crabs!" She had broken into a snickering fit, pressing her forehead against the table as she tried to not fall over completely. Mark was chuckling and feeling really good watching how silly his teacher was being. She looked up suddenly, trying to wear a serious expression. "But one thing," she cautioned, holding up a finger and wagging it at one of the Marks she was looking at. There were three of them, so she chose the one in the middle. "No, moren one thing, but th' one thing'sh; important;” She leaned forward to whisper to him. "Keep your dicky in your pantsh unlesh; unlesh you know she'sh eighteen; 'cush the lawsh right now; 'she prolly legal to fuck 'em younger; but; you're from our time; our time;” She glowered at him drunkenly. "An' we don' fuck 'em if they're not eighteen; ya' got it?" He nodded. "Eighteen or older. Got it. And you can; miss, you can' "Not mish," she interrupted, waving away his comment. "Becky. Not fuckin' mish, remember?" "Sorry," he intoned, letting out a belch and patting his chest. The wine and cheese tasted great but were really fucking with him. "I'll be better; remember;” "Well, what wash it I can do?" she asked. "You were gonna; shay; I could do; what wash it?" Mark thought about that for a moment, unable to push through the wine-induced haze in his head. "I don' remember;” They both broke into laughter, much to the amusement of nearby patrons. Becky had her head on the table again, giggling until Mark slammed his palm on it in an expression of entertainment, shocking her and making her yelp. They looked at one another and burst into more fits of laughter. They'd drained another jug and polished off the pig and pheasants. Mark felt incredibly full, and drunk. Becky could barely stand up and she asked Mark to take her arm and lead them over to the proprietor behind the long counter once again. She shook her head a few times to clear it and he waited patiently for her to speak. "Shir, we'll be needing the bath now, and our room," she said slowly, making sure she could be understood. "Would you be so kind ash to show ush the way?" He tilted his head slightly. "Comment?" "You just spoke to him in English, Becks." Mark told her. Her glassy eyes widened and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to die of embarrassment. "For fuck's sakes;” she muttered. She took a deep breath and repeated herself in labored French. He nodded and led them up the back, away from the common room. It took Becky fifteen minutes to get up the single flight of stairs because it wouldn't stop spinning. Mark sighed as he sat in the large, round wooden tub, his arms resting on the side while his hands gripped the rim. The steaming water splashed over the side as he shuddered and groaned loudly, cumming. Spent, he sank back onto the small ledge and breathed heavily. The water stirred and Becky surfaced, exhaling. Her golden hair clung to her wetly and her glorious tits glistened. She grinned at her student. "See?" she declared, obviously pleased as she pulled her hair over her shoulders. "Told you I could make you cum before having to surface for air." "Jesus, you must've been down there over two minutes," he breathed, never ceasing to be stunned by her carnal skills. "How the hell do you hold your breath that long?" Becky cricked her neck and settled onto Mark's lap, her arms around his neck. She gave him a peck on the nose. "Lots of cardio and physical training." "Obviously." Mark agreed. "Not that I'm complaining, mind." "Hmm, didn't think you would," she purred. "But only half of this equation has been solved, big boy. I haven't cum yet. Since you're friend down there is taking a nap, how good are you at holding your breath?" "Not that good," he chuckled. "I'm happy to lick your cunt, but you'll need to keep it above water." She smiled and rolled her eyes before getting off his lap. He moved aside and allowed her to kneel on the little ledge he'd been sitting on, leaning over the rim of the tub and resting her forearms on it. She looked back at him and winked while wiggling her sexy, toned behind him. Her cuntlips were dripping and looked inviting. Mark knelt in the middle of the tub, behind Becky's ass and took hold of it, kissing the wet cheeks. Becky cooed and squirmed under the attention, one of her hands cupping a tit and squeezing it. She could feel Mark's lips and tongue moving slowly inward toward her core. She bit her lip and sighed. He touched her cunt, kissing it gently and sliding his tongue up and down the twat, which parted easily before him. Her heard her moan and tasted her tang as he pushed inside her while using his thumbs to pull her inner thighs apart so he could get further into his teacher's snatch. She shivered and pushed back against him, eager for more. "Hmm, Mark;” she cooed, her eyes shut as she felt his tongue inside her. "Yes, right there, lover. Oh, you really know how to use your tongue;” He smiled at her compliment and pulled his tongue out to massage her clit with it, rolling around the little bud and making her gasp sharply. He slid a finger inside her, followed by another and she groaned. He could feel her cunt tightening around his digits and began to push them back and forth slowly while he nibbled and sucked her clit. Becky shuddered again and leaned down, biting at her knuckle while squeezing her tit harder, massaging it vigorously. Mark lashed her clit while fingering her tight twat and then slid a single finger into her ass. Her breath caught in her throat and she gripped the ledge of the tub, her fingers raking along the iron-bound wood. "Fuck, Mark," she whimpered. "Yes, make me cum. I want to cum in your mouth!" Mark worked her cunt harder, sliding the fingers back and forth, pushing in deeper each time. His tongue massaged her clit relentlessly or he sucked on it. She was squirming and writhing back against him, groaning unashamedly. He was beyond caring if anyone heard them at this point. Becky was panting heavily now, her eyes glazing over as she ground her ass against Mark's face, feeling his fingers in her cunt and her ass, wiggling and pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. She would miss his cum inside her, but she would surely get it before long, Mark was developing good stamina under her guidance. She arched her back and moaned loudly as she began to cum, pleasure blossoming through her from her cunt and out to her fingers and toes. Her body shook while she climaxed, the wet, gooey ecstasy of colors in her mind letting her; Invasion. There was a smash, like wood splintering, the creak of worn metal. Her eyes snapped open in confusion, the unreal delight of her orgasm draining away as men in masks and dark clothes surged into the room, at least five of them and more shadows in the hallway. Most were holding knives or small clubs, but she saw the one in front carrying a heavy flintlock pistol. Even in the darkness of the room, lit only by candles around the wall, she could see the wicked scar on his cheek. "Arrêtez! Reste tranquille et je ne te tuerai pas!" he rasped, pointing his pistol at her while his comrades moved into the room and began searching for something. "Qui es-tu?" Becky demanded, getting angry not only about the intruders, but the fact that her orgasm was slipping away. She could feel Mark still kneeling behind her, looking on in shock at what was happening. "Tais-toi, salope!" the man barked, moving toward her and drawing a wicked knife from his belt, his men now ransacking the room. He placed the point of the knife at her throat and Mark felt a cold fear run up his spine. "Do not speak to me in that tone if you' He never finished the sentence as Becky grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife and twisted, hard. The man with the scar yelped as he lost his grip on the knife and the blonde woman leapt out of the tub, her knee smashing into his face. He staggered backward and then went flying as her foot slammed into his ribcage. He crashed through a table and this got the attention of the thugs he'd brought with him. They all looked in shock at the naked blonde tigress for a moment and then surged in on her, knives and cudgels ready. "A little help here, hero!" Becky shrilled as she scampered away from the incoming bandits. "This isn't sex, don't make me do all the work!" "Hey now!" Mark protested, half-rising out of the relative protection of the tub because of her taunt. "It's not like you do all' "Goddammit, Mark!" Becky shouted as she ducked the swing of a club and punched her attacker in the balls. "You'd better hope they kill us, because if I survive, I'm going to crack open your skull and suck your brain out with a straw! Help me!" Mark came to his senses and vaulted over the side of the tub, trying not to think about the fact that he was buck naked and rushing toward his teacher and her assailants. He crashed into the smallest man, bearing him to the ground and winding him. Not sure what else to do, he began punching the bandit, knocking his cloth mask askew so he could not see. The man struggled wildly to get out from underneath his naked foe. "Huh!" Mark choked out as another thug grabbed him by the throat from behind and started pulling him off the man he was on top of. He could feel his tongue beginning to bulge out of his mouth and was thinking he must look incredibly foolish, like Jabba the Hutt when Princess Leia strangled him with the chain. He couldn't die like that. He couldn't. With a limp dick and a swollen tongue? In front of Becky? He'd taken some karate, although he was no expert. His skin was still wet and he went limp, using sudden deadweight to break his attacker's hold on his throat, although he hissed in pain when he felt the man's ragged nails crease through his skin as he lost his grip. With a thud! Mark hit the floor and did the only thing he could think of doing; he grappled onto the man and took him down in a rough tumble. He desperately rolled until he was on top and rammed his knee into the man's stomach. He heard the man wheeze but then sparks exploded behind his eyes as something cracked across the back of his head. He didn't fall over but scrambled away in a panic, wishing he could see in the darkness or that the room would stop spinning. Becky landed in a heap on top of him, knocking him back to the floor. She was still naked and incredibly angry from the sounds of her. "That's it, buster!" she roared as she surged back to her feet and charged her attacker. Mark dazedly looked over and watched as his teacher sprinted across the room, her foe giving chase. She leapt in the air and to the wall, her foot making contact. Before anyone was ready, she sprang backward, smashing her foot across the man's jaw in a roundhouse kick that they must have heard on the edge of town. The man went down like a sack of flour. "Alright, who's next?" she shouted, standing in the middle of the room, naked and scratched up. She grabbed a pewter jug and slammed it backward into the head of a man coming up behind her. He went down. "I didn't know you did parkour!" Mark called out as he tackled another thug from behind, taking him to the floor. "I do a lot of things to take out my sexual frustrations!" she snapped back, picking up a bench and throwing it at two assailants to keep them off-balance. "Parkour, jiu-jutsu, archery, Krav-Maga. I was kind of hoping that fucking would allow me to vent a little steam!" "I can see why!" Mark said as he smashed the man's face into the floor repeatedly. Even in his weirdest dreams, he'd never imagined fighting French bandits while buck naked. He wondered if the Temporal Enforcement Agency would be up his ass about this incident. "Oh, shut up!" she shrilled, kicking a man between the legs from behind and then suplexing him after he doubled over in pain. The floor splintered with the impact, but Becky rolled to her feet and grabbed his cudgel. "You still owe me an orgasm, mister!" "Okay, okay!" Mark said hastily. A sallow man confronted him, wearing an eye-mask, who brandished a knobbed club. The bandit grinned at him, clearly intent on bashing his head in. Thinking quickly, Mark stood and looked somber, clasping his fist in his hand and bowing, like they did in his mom's tai chi class. The bandit looked confused for a moment before Mark bowed again and then made a motion urging the bandit to do the same. Still not sure what was happening but wanting to get on with things, the bandit bowed at the waist clumsily. Mark broke a chair over his head before grabbing the cudgel and rushing to Becky's side. "So very nice of you to join me," Becky panted as they faced off against the three remaining intruders, who were trying to surround them. Mark and Becky backed up toward the outer wall, the window behind them. The men closed in. There was a groan and a clatter as the man with the scar on his cheek slowly got to his feet from the pile of broken furniture he'd been laying in and approached them, his henchmen parting to make way for him. "Pour votre arrogance, je vous verrai mort." he growled, pointing his pistol at Mark. Trapped, Mark squeezed his eyes shut; click! Mark blinked and opened his eyes. The scar-faced man was scowling at his pistol, which was letting off a small tuft of smoke but had failed to go off. Was the powder wet? With a roar of fury, Becky was on him. "Get the other three!" she yelled as she rearranged his face. "I've got this one!" Too bewildered to be afraid and exhilarated to be alive, Mark charged the remaining three thugs, who were all backing away in confusion. None of this had gone according to plan, the majority of their fellow bandits were strewn around the room, beaten unconscious by a naked man and a crazy blonde hellion with big tits and a shaved cunt. "C'est des conneries!" she raged as she beat the man around the room, showing no mercy. "I came to the Sun King's France to drink wine, have a good time and get laid! And you fuckers just had to try and rob me, didn't you? All sorts of peasants to pick on, but no! You thought you'd get lucky with two strangers! Well va te faire enculer, pal!" Mark lost track of the whirlwind of violence his teacher had become while he ducked the swipe of a knife and then kicked the leg out from under a thug, dislocating his knee and dropping him. He whirled around and got lucky with the cudgel, cracking it across the jaw of another man, who spun like a top and fell to the ground. He was beginning to notice that he was taller than just about all these men, often by a significant margin. Some were barely taller than Becky. Had nutrition really been that bad in this era? The last one got desperate and lunged at him, but Mark twisted and used his foe's momentum to send him sailing past and smashing into the window. The unconscious man slumped halfway through the shutter and the sounds of commotion in the street below reached him. He shouldn't have been surprised that they were causing a stir. He looked around the room to see if any other foes were standing, but saw only sprawled bodies everywhere, some stirring slightly. The only other sound was that of a face being punched. He looked over to see Becky squatting on the scarred man's chest, grappling into his collar and socking him repeatedly in the mouth while swearing in French. "Nique ta mere!" thump! "Oh, you really pissed me off!" she growled as she huiled the man up by the shirt and dragged him stumbling over to the tub, where she pushed his head under the water. He thrashed about in a panic before she let him back up, gasping for air. "You like that?" she shouted, thumping his head off the side of the tub several times for emphasis. "Ya' think it's funny to barge into a girl's room when she's about to get her rocks off? Is that it?" She shoved his head back underwater again, waiting until he was thrashing around in terror again before pulling him back out and dragging him over to the bed. She threw him against it so that he was kneeling, supported by the straw-stuffed mattress as he swooned. "Hold him down, Mark;” she growled. Unsure of what to do aside from comply, Mark got on the bed and pinned the man's arms against the mattress, putting all his weight on them to keep him in place. He watched in growing confusion as Becky knelt behind the man and yanked his breeches down, exposing his pock-marked behind. She found his flintlock pistol and glared at it for a moment before fiddling with the mechanism, cocking it. The man's eye flared wide and he howled in pain and horror as she pushed the barrel inside his ass. "Alright, buttercup," she said with a sweetness that oozed cruelty. "You're going to explain who told you to come and rob us. And if you don't, I pull the trigger and put your brains on the ceiling." Mark warily shuffled aside on the bed, away from the top of the man's skull. "Do you understand me?" Becky asked quietly, giving the pistol a jiggle. "Probably not," Mark said, trying to sound conciliatory. "You're speaking English again." Becky realized he was right and swore under her breath. Rather than say it all again in French, she decided to just get to the point. She pressed the pistol in an inch further, ignoring the resistance she encountered. "Dites-mois qui vous a envoye," she growled. "Tell me or I blow an asshole in the top of your head." "Henri!" the scar-faced man gasped and whimpered. "He told us you would be here and you have much money!" "Oh, did he now?" Becky growled, forgetting to speak French as she glared at the bandit. "I am going to eat that man's children;” She roughly grabbed the man and spun him around to face her, without removing the pistol muzzle from his ass. His face was pale with fright and artfully rearranged by her fist. He was still leaning back against the bed, not daring to move, breathing heavily. "Maintenant," Becky began, still glowering at him. "You're going to tell me where to' She paused as she looked down at the man's crotch and saw that he was sporting a throbbing erection. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she shouted angrily, yanking the pistol out of his ass and then slamming the grip across his head with a loud crack! The bandit's eyes rolled into his head and he slumped to the ground, very unconscious. "Huh," Mark said as he glanced down at the prone villain. "I guess guys really can get erections from that sort of thing. I thought it was bullshit." "It ought to be, under these circumstances," Becky groused, folding her arms and looking pissed off. "You don't spring wood when a girl's got a gun shoved up your ass, especially after you try to rob her! I don't feel the least bit bad about not giving him a reach-around. Fucker;” "Would you really have pulled the trigger and blown his brains out?" he asked somewhat nervously. "Oh, of course, not," she snorted, giving him a wry look. "I'm not a monster." "You sure fight like one." Mark said, using his hand to indicate the carnage around the room. Bad guys were strewn everywhere, and he was pretty sure he couldn't claim most of them. "Well, they had it coming," she sniffed. "They interrupted my orgasm. It's just rude." She then turned and looked at him, her expression much softer. "Thank you, Mark, for all your help. You saved me, I couldn't have done it on my own." "Yeah, well, you wouldn't have been in danger if I hadn't brought you here in that damn time machine." Mark said, a feeling of guilt washing over him. She knelt next to him on the bed and hugged him close, their bodies pressing together. She smiled at him and kissed his nose. "Don't be sad," she cooed. "I haven't had this much adventure in ages." Mark smirked. "If you've got romps in your past that compare to this, I wanna hear about them." "Oh, you'll need to do a lot more fucking to coax those out of me, young man," she whispered, reaching down between them to take gentle hold of his cock and begin stroking. "But maybe I won't make it too difficult for; Mark, it's very rude to stare off into space while a girl is trying to seduce you. Mark?" "I'm not staring off into space, Becks." Mark said, staring past her shoulder. "Oh, really?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking annoyed, still kneeling in front of him. "Then what is so fascinating that even my tits can't distract you?" He indicated a direction behind her with a nod. "Voyeurs." Becky turned her head slowly and looked across the room at the door. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed several dark shapes in the hallway, gazing into the room in astonishment. With a sigh, she got off the bed, grabbed a candle that hadn't been destroyed and walked over to the door, clearly beyond caring that she was still naked. She could see men and women now, backing up uncertainly at her approach. She also spied one particular silhouette, large and with a big beard, lurking near the back and trying to not be seen. "Oh no you don't, pal," she called out, snapping her fingers and then pointing at the man before making a beckoning motion. "Get your sorry ass over here;” Henri, the peasant girls, and hospitality. Mark sighed in pleasure and took another drink from the jug of wine he was holding, trying to not spill any. He pulled his lips away and looked down his body. He was sitting in a large, plush bed, blissfully naked. Between his legs, a local girl with dark brown hair girl was bobbing her mouth up and down on his cock ardently, clearly interested in pleasing him. "This one's the innkeeper's daughter?" he mused, enjoying her mouth. She paused sucking on him for a moment to look up and smile eagerly before returning to her task. "She loves cock for sure." "She's one of his daughters," Becky agreed, propped up beside him, equally naked and holding the head of a girl who was lying between her legs, her face buried in the blonde's cunt, which she was licking hungrily. "This is the other one." "You frightened him so badly that he's letting us fuck his daughters?" Mark laughed. "He's given us his personal quarters, given us all the food and drink we want and we can fuck his daughters?" "What can I say, I'm persuasive." Becky grunted, shivering and grinding herself into the face of the daughter. "He'll let us stay for the week, he doesn't want word getting around that a noble had a fiasco in his inn. He'd probably give us his wife, too, if I demanded it. We're too close to Paris and word would get around and wreck his business." "If trashing that room and leaving bandits everywhere doesn't, nothing would." Mark breathed, holding the girl by the hair. "Seriously, it looks like Metallica stayed in that room now. What'll we do about that Henri asshole?" "I'll think of it later, I'm a little busy." Becky hissed, squirming and knotting her fingers in the peasant girl's hair. "Uh, it's been so long, since a girl ate me." "You had a sexy phase? I didn't know you liked girls." Mark said, smirking at her. "Back in high school, maybe," Becky admitted. "Haven't been with one since then." "But I do have a question," he said, focusing past the daughter's wicked mouth. "In all the hassle and afterward, I never asked the innkeeper how old his daughters were." "So?" Becky gasped, eyes squeezed shut and bucking her hips. "Well, what if they're not eighteen? You said yourself that we have to hold ourselves to the standards of the time we come from, right?" "You're thinking of that now?" she groaned through clenched teeth. "I; fuck; Mark, it's 1640 right now. That means these girls can't be any less than three hundred and ninety-two in our time. Good enough?" "Good enough!" he laughed. Rationalization seemed to be a handy skill when you were time travelling. He looked over and saw Becky pull the girl away from her crotch and rustle over to him. He stayed still while she straddled his lap, facing down his body. With one hand, she took hold of his cock and held it steady while she positioned herself above it. The two sisters, every bit as naked as them, nestled on the bed below his legs, pressing against one another's sides. They grinned at one another and kissed, their tongues tangling as they waited for Becky to continue. With a sigh, his teacher lowered herself onto his cock, the mushroom head splitting her wet lips before sliding inside her. She sunk down with a groan until he was in to the hilt. She then slowly laid herself back against him, allowing Mark fondle her tits while she squirmed and writhed on him. The sisters moved in and began licking at his cock or kissing her cunt lips and clit while the two guests fucked. "Oh, Heaven;” Becky purred as she caressed his cheek, turning her head to kiss him, their tongues slithering around while she undulated slowly on his lap. "This is what time travel's all about;” Mark held her with one hand, fondling her tits and pinching her nipples while his other hand found the wine jug and poised it just over her torso. She hummed in pleasure as he trickled the dark red liquid over her fair skin, letting it cascade down her exquisite form. One of the sisters noticed and knelt up, beginning to lick it off Becky's tits and stomach while the other noisily slurped it from the Mark's cock and Becky's cunt. "God, forget the Sun King's France, we belong in Caligula's Rome," Becky moaned, shivering in delight at how decadent they were being. "We'll need to; hmm; we'll need to find time to attend an orgy, Mark; how's your Latin?" "Not as good as yours, I imagine," he replied, his tongue still swirling around with hers while they fucked. "But I'd be happy to learn it if we can attend a real orgy." He put the jug of wine aside and used both hands to molest her again, squeezing her tits and gripping her skin. Becky writhed and him, pressing down with her hips, shuddering as the two sisters licked her and nipped at her skin. She begged the universe n

Alonso & Jacks are here to help us preview the Netflix (and Disney+) movies that we will be covering this year! Those movies are...A Merry Little Ex-MasPremiere Date: November 12Starring: Alicia Silverstone, Oliver Hudson, Jameela Jamil, Pierson Fode, Melissa Joan HartSynopsis: Recently divorced Kate hopes for one last perfect family Christmas before selling her home, but her plans go awry when her ex-husband arrives with his younger and very successful new girlfriend.A Very Jonas Christmas Movie (Disney+)Premiere Date: November 14Starring: Kevin Jonas, Joe Jonas, Nick JonasSynopsis: After the Jonas Brothers finish their London tour, all they want is to get home for Christmas. But missed connections and mounting setbacks test their bond. Each brother faces personal challenges — Kevin longs to branch out, Joe reconnects with someone from his past, and Nick feels the pressure of leadership. As they struggle to make it home, they rediscover the Christmas spirit and the importance of family. The film features new original songs and surprise celebrity cameos.Champagne ProblemsPremiere Date: November 19Starring: Minka Kelly, Tom Wozniczka, Thibault de MontalembertSynopsis: A business executive travels to France to acquire a prestigious champagne brand before Christmas, but her plans are derailed when she falls for a charming Parisian — only to learn he's the founder's son.Jingle Bell HeistPremiere Date: November 26Starring: Olivia Holt, Connor Swindells, Lucy Punch, Peter Serafinowicz, Poppy DraytonSynopsis: Small-time thieves Sophia and Nick set their sights on robbing a famous London department store on Christmas Eve. Forced to partner up, their growing feelings and hidden secrets threaten both the heist and their future.My Secret SantaPremiere Date: December 3Starring: Alexandra Breckenridge, Ryan Eggold, Tia MowrySynopsis: A single mom disguises herself as a man to land a job as the resort's seasonal Santa. Romance with the hotel manager complicates her double life and puts everything at risk. Watch the show on Youtube - www.deckthehallmark.com/youtubeInterested in advertising on the show? Email bran@deckthehallmark.com Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Fluent Fiction - French: Émile's Artistic Awakening: A Night in Montmartre Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-11-09-08-38-20-fr Story Transcript:Fr: Dans le quartier bohème de Montmartre, les rues étaient pleines de visiteurs.En: In the bohemian neighborhood of Montmartre, the streets were full of visitors.Fr: Les feuilles d'automne, rouges et dorées, formaient un tapis crissant sous les pieds.En: The autumn leaves, red and golden, formed a crunchy carpet underfoot.Fr: C'était l'ouverture d'une exposition d'art, et le petit monde de l'art parisien était réuni dans une galerie douillette, au dernier étage d'un bâtiment historique.En: It was the opening of an art exhibition, and the small Parisian art world was gathered in a cozy gallery, on the top floor of a historic building.Fr: De là, on apercevait la majestueuse basilique du Sacré-Cœur, perchée au sommet de la colline.En: From there, one could see the majestic basilica of Sacré-Cœur, perched atop the hill.Fr: Émile se tenait à l'écart, observant la foule avec un mélange de rêve et de nervosité.En: Émile stood apart, observing the crowd with a mixture of dreaming and nervousness.Fr: Il était un artiste, en quête de reconnaissance, mais souvent en proie au doute.En: He was an artist, seeking recognition, but often plagued by doubt.Fr: Ses œuvres, sa passion, restaient inconnues du grand public.En: His works, his passion, remained unknown to the general public.Fr: La propriétaire de la galerie, Chloé, était connue pour son œil pour l'authenticité.En: The owner of the gallery, Chloé, was known for her eye for authenticity.Fr: Elle avait transformé la galerie en un lieu vibrant d'art original et sincère.En: She had transformed the gallery into a vibrant place of original and sincere art.Fr: Émile savait que c'était peut-être sa chance.En: Émile knew this might be his chance.Fr: Il voulait que Chloé remarque son travail.En: He wanted Chloé to notice his work.Fr: Mais il doutait.En: But he doubted.Fr: Son art était-il assez bon ?En: Was his art good enough?Fr: Devait-il montrer son tableau le plus personnel, celui qui révélait son âme et ses peurs, ou choisir l'une de ses peintures plus conventionnelles ?En: Should he show his most personal painting, the one that revealed his soul and fears, or choose one of his more conventional paintings?Fr: Il prit une profonde inspiration.En: He took a deep breath.Fr: C'était maintenant ou jamais.En: It was now or never.Fr: Il approcha Chloé, le cœur battant.En: He approached Chloé, his heart pounding.Fr: Elle était entourée d'artistes et de collectionneurs, un sourire bienveillant éclairant son visage.En: She was surrounded by artists and collectors, a kindly smile lighting her face.Fr: « Bonjour, Chloé.En: "Hello, Chloé.Fr: Je suis Émile, » dit-il, sa voix légèrement tremblante.En: I am Émile," he said, his voice slightly trembling.Fr: Chloé le regarda avec curiosité et l'invita à parler de son travail.En: Chloé looked at him with curiosity and invited him to talk about his work.Fr: Émile hésita, mais finit par lui montrer sa peinture la plus intime.En: Émile hesitated, but eventually showed her his most intimate painting.Fr: C'était une scène de Montmartre, baignée de la lumière douce du crépuscule, révélant un monde rêveur et pourtant poignant.En: It was a scene of Montmartre, bathed in the soft light of twilight, revealing a dreamy yet poignant world.Fr: Chloé fixa la toile longuement.En: Chloé gazed at the canvas for a long time.Fr: Émile retint son souffle.En: Émile held his breath.Fr: « C'est magnifique, » dit-elle enfin, ses yeux brillants d'émotion.En: "It's magnificent," she finally said, her eyes shining with emotion.Fr: « C'est vrai.En: "It's true.Fr: Vous avez un vrai talent, Émile.En: You have real talent, Émile."Fr: » Le soulagement envahit Émile.En: Relief washed over Émile.Fr: Chloé avait vu au-delà de ses doutes et avait reconnu la sincérité de son art.En: Chloé had seen beyond his doubts and recognized the sincerity of his art.Fr: « Je veux présenter votre œuvre dans ma galerie, » annonça Chloé avec assurance.En: "I want to present your work in my gallery," Chloé announced confidently.Fr: Émile sentit son cœur s'alléger.En: Émile felt his heart lighten.Fr: Quelque chose avait changé.En: Something had changed.Fr: Ce soir-là, il avait gagné plus qu'une place dans une galerie.En: That night, he had gained more than a place in a gallery.Fr: Il avait découvert la confiance en son propre talent et la valeur de son expression personnelle.En: He had discovered confidence in his own talent and the value of his personal expression.Fr: Sous le ciel étoilé de Paris, Émile et Chloé continuèrent à discuter de leurs passions artistiques, tandis que la lumière chaleureuse de la galerie éclairait doucement la nuit automnale de Montmartre.En: Under the starry sky of Paris, Émile and Chloé continued discussing their artistic passions, while the warm glow of the gallery gently illuminated the autumn night of Montmartre. Vocabulary Words:the neighborhood: le quartierart exhibition: exposition d'artthe opening: l'ouverturecozy: douillettemajestic: majestueusebasilica: basiliquethe hill: la collineapart: à l'écarta mixture: un mélangeseeking recognition: en quête de reconnaissanceplagued: en proiethe owner: la propriétaireauthenticity: authenticitéto notice: remarquerdoubted: doutaitbreath: inspirationpainting: peinturetwilight: crépusculepoignant: poignantthe canvas: la toilerelief: le soulagementsincerity: sincéritéconfidence: la confiancetalent: talentthe sky: le cielpassions: passionsglow: lumièreautumn: automnalethe crowd: la fouleto approach: approcher

What would you do with a long lost Ernest Hemingway story? Print it? Sell it? Or resurrect the 99 year old magazine it originally came in with a host of contemporary authors and artists. Patrick Dooley chose option three, giving the world its first new edition of classic Parisian magazine “The Boulevardier” in almost a century. He sits down with the band to talk about bringing the magazine back to life, working with some of the drinks world's most famous authors, and the timeless allure of being an immigrant in Paris. And of course, boulevardiers (the drink) were both discussed and consumed.PLUS, New York descended into chaos on Tuesday following the lawful election of someone young and charismatic and we're all feeling… pretty good about it honestly. And, cult favorite brand Owney's Rum has a new owner. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss!Follow Patrick on Instagram at @mrpatrickdooleyLINKSThe Boulevardier: boulevardierparis.comBecome a Regular: patreon.com/SpeakeasyRegularsFor resources on dealing with ICE agents in your community visit nouswithoutyou.la/ and @thenycallianceThe Sauced Kickstarter: kickstarter.com/projects/timmckirdy/sauced-the-podcastThe Speakeasy is now on YouTube! Tune in to “see” what we're talking about at youtube.com/@Speakeasy.PodcastCheck out Quiote Imports at quioteimports.com and use promo code “Speakeasy” to get free shipping at checkout.Don't forget to click SUBSCRIBE and RATE the show if you can.

Welcome to BlinkOpera, the Atlanta Opera's bite-sized journey into the heart of great storytelling. In this episode, baritone Anthony Clark Evans guides us through the sweeping emotion and dramatic power of Giuseppe Verdi's La Traviata—one of the most beloved works in the operatic canon. Evans walks us into the glittering world of Parisian high society, where the radiant courtesan Violetta Valéry discovers a love that promises renewal yet demands impossible sacrifice. With warmth and insight, he unpacks the opera's unforgettable moments: the effervescent brilliance of “Sempre libera,” the tenderness of Violetta and Alfredo's countryside idyll, and the heartbreaking intensity of the final act. Whether you're discovering La Traviata for the first time or returning to a longtime favorite, this quick dive illuminates why Verdi's masterpiece continues to move audiences around the world. Let's begin.

Nowadays, the Parisian neighborhood of Châtelet is known among young people as a gathering place where they flirt, take part in consumerism at its fullest within a large shopping mall, and engage in street interviews with absurd or provocative questions. This episode explores the patterns that have led to the convergence of youth toward this specific area of Paris, often coming from distant suburbs. Once synonymous with life, identity expression, entertainment, and leisure, this place now faces increasing scrutiny from authorities, who try to limit gatherings through police presence—often stopping young men and women without real justification.Authorities seek peace and a neutralized space, whereas the youth longs for a place to express itself. This policy of neutralization reflects a broader pattern of silent domination imposed by bourgeois categories seeking to preserve their power and social monopoly. These recent attempts at regulation in the heart of Paris can be seen as part of a broader effort to advance gentrification—running counter to the very urban DNA of this area, which was meant to be occupied and shared by all.This episode was prepared with the following academic works: Charpy, M. (2020) ‘Silence intérieur et machineries de la communication au XIXe siècle', Socio-anthropologie, Nouvelle série 41, pp. 23-38. available at : https://journals.openedition.org/socio-anthropologie/6561Hass, C. and Hérard, M. (2008) ‘Les Halles, lieu d'une seule jeunesse. Un monde commun de styles différenciés', Les Annales de la Recherche Urbaine, 105, pp. 46–54. Available at: https://www.persee.fr/doc/aru_0180-930x_2008_num_105_1_2762 All the rights of the cover photo are owned by : PATRICK KOVARIK / AFPThanks for listening to us, take care

OTON's Alliance returns with 9-track album ‘Fiber Bundle' from Parisian artist Solma. We highlighted the Belgian imprint & party series a few weeks ago with OTON's own album & now OTON takes on the role of mastering engineer this time around. Solma has been bubbling within the vibrant French psychedelic scene for a couple of years. He launched his own label Virtual Forest Records with two friends in 2021 & kicked it off with an EP of his own. Since then he's released on a number of other labels including Crescent London, Melifera sub-label Polën who we'll be featuring in our Label Spotlight interview series soon, & Jan Swam's Organic Signs, where he released his debut album ‘The Consciousness Of Plants' at the start of this year. ‘Fiber Bundle' has this fierce, haunting atmosphere throughout the entirety of the release. The only beatless track on the album, ‘Skaub' sets the tone for what's to come & pulls you in right away, painting the picture of a cold & distant landscape. It evokes imagery of some kind of ice-covered otherworldly lifeform, part organic & part machine, taking deep breaths of a gassy alien atmosphere. Solma's ‘Fiber Bundle' will be available both digitally & on CD from November 7th on Alliance Records. @solmadj www.instagram.com/solma.als @allianceclub www.instagram.com/allianceclub_/ Write up by @aspetuck Follow us on social media: @itsdelayed linktr.ee/delayed www.delayed.nyc www.facebook.com/itsdelayed www.instagram.com/_____delayed www.youtube.com/@_____delayed Contact us: info@delayed.nyc

Jean Mane is the former president of V. MANE FILS SAS, one of the global leaders in the flavour and fragrance industry. Under his leadership, which began in 1995, the company underwent a period of innovation and international expansion, establishing itself as # 5 in the Industry.Recognised as a European flavour expert since 1984, Jean Mane has a strong academic background in chemical engineering from two Parisian universities and in synthetic organic chemistry from MIT. He has previously served as president of the International Organisation of the Flavour Industry (IOFI), the European Flavour Association (EFFA) and Syndicat National des Industries Aromatiques Alimentaires (SNIAA) in France.His achievements include receiving two of the highest French knighthoods: the Légion d'Honneur and the Ordre National du Mérite. He has also received a Lifetime Achievement Award at the International Spice Conference and was named Entrepreneur of the Year 2011 for France by EY. He currently serves as Chairman of the Board and Managing Director at MANE KANCOR.Host: Trevor Groome, Michel Aubanel, Music: Aidan Kirkwood, Editing: Mark Millward, Publishing: Ján Peťka

Fluent Fiction - French: Parisian Rhythms: Sketching and Snapshots Amid Autumn Rain Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-11-04-08-38-20-fr Story Transcript:Fr: Le ciel de Paris s'assombrissait rapidement en ce bel après-midi d'automne.En: The sky over Paris was rapidly darkening on this beautiful autumn afternoon.Fr: Des nuages lourds de pluie formaient un tapis gris au-dessus du célèbre fleuve de la Seine, créant une atmosphère intime et mélancolique.En: Clouds heavy with rain formed a gray carpet above the famous Seine River, creating a cozy and melancholic atmosphere.Fr: Emilien, un jeune homme pensif avec un carnet et un crayon à la main, s'était réfugié dans un café au bord de la rivière.En: Emilien, a thoughtful young man with a notebook and pencil in hand, had taken refuge in a café by the river.Fr: Ses yeux étaient souvent attirés vers l'extérieur, où les arbres perdaient leurs feuilles d'or.En: His eyes were often drawn outside, where the trees were losing their golden leaves.Fr: Le café, chaleureux avec ses meubles en bois et ses effluves de café fraîchement moulu, était un abri parfait contre la pluie qui menaçait à chaque instant.En: The café, warm with its wooden furniture and the aroma of freshly ground coffee, was a perfect shelter against the rain that threatened at any moment.Fr: Les fenêtres embuées reflétaient une lumière douce et tamisée.En: The misted windows reflected a soft and subdued light.Fr: Emilien se perdait dans ses pensées, essayant de capter l'essence de l'automne à travers ses coups de crayon.En: Emilien lost himself in his thoughts, trying to capture the essence of autumn through his pencil strokes.Fr: Mais, la pluie incessante trouble sa concentration.En: But, the incessant rain troubled his concentration.Fr: Non loin, Fleur, une jeune femme dynamique avec un appareil photo autour du cou, poussait la porte du café.En: Not far away, Fleur, an energetic young woman with a camera around her neck, pushed open the door of the café.Fr: Elle était exaltée par cette journée, mais quelque peu frustrée.En: She was exhilarated by the day, but somewhat frustrated.Fr: La pluie imprévisible avait interrompu son projet photo.En: The unpredictable rain had interrupted her photo project.Fr: Elle cherchait une photo parfaite qui raconterait l'histoire de l'automne parisien.En: She was searching for the perfect photo that would tell the story of Parisian autumn.Fr: Assis à une table voisine, Emilien observait les allées et venues des autres clients.En: Sitting at a nearby table, Emilien observed the comings and goings of other customers.Fr: Son carnet ouvert, il croquait les détails d'une scène chaleureuse : un couple partageant un croissant, un étudiant absorbé par ses livres, un chien patient devant son maître.En: His open notebook captured the details of a warm scene: a couple sharing a croissant, a student absorbed in their books, a dog patiently waiting for its owner.Fr: Il s'arrêta en voyant Fleur, attiré par son énergie et sa passion évidente pour la photographie.En: He paused as he saw Fleur, drawn by her energy and evident passion for photography.Fr: Fleur remarqua les esquisses d'Emilien.En: Fleur noticed Emilien's sketches.Fr: Curieuse, elle s'approcha et engagea la conversation.En: Curious, she approached and started a conversation.Fr: "Tes dessins sont magnifiques," dit-elle en souriant.En: "Your drawings are beautiful," she said with a smile.Fr: Emile, surpris mais flatté, répondit timidement.En: Emilien, surprised but flattered, replied timidly.Fr: Ils échangèrent sur leurs passions respectives, découvrant un amour mutuel pour l'art et la ville qui les entourait.En: They exchanged words about their respective passions, discovering a mutual love for art and the city that surrounded them.Fr: La pluie cessa soudainement, et une vive lumière inonda le café.En: The rain suddenly stopped, and a bright light flooded the café.Fr: Fleur, inspirée par ce moment, leva son appareil et prit une photo d'Emilien en train de dessiner, capturant un instant où deux mondes se rencontraient.En: Fleur, inspired by this moment, lifted her camera and took a photo of Emilien while he was drawing, capturing a moment where two worlds met.Fr: Alors que le soleil se couchait, Emilien offrit à Fleur un de ses croquis, un geste qui scella une nouvelle amitié.En: As the sun set, Emilien offered Fleur one of his sketches, a gesture that sealed a new friendship.Fr: "Je t'enverrai la photo," promit-elle, joyeuse, en griffonnant son email sur un coin de papier.En: "I'll send you the photo," she promised joyfully, scribbling her email on a corner of paper.Fr: Ils sortirent ensemble du café, changeant.En: They left the café together, changed.Fr: Emilien, d'habitude si réservé, avait découvert le plaisir de la connexion humaine.En: Emilien, usually so reserved, had discovered the joy of human connection.Fr: Fleur trouva que les meilleures photos étaient souvent celles qui naissaient des rencontres inattendues.En: Fleur found that the best photos were often those born of unexpected encounters.Fr: Ainsi, dans la lumière dorée du jour déclinant, commençait une nouvelle histoire au bord de la Seine, une histoire où les talents se mêlaient et les destinées se croisaient au gré d'une pluie parisienne.En: Thus, in the golden light of the declining day, a new story began by the Seine, a story where talents intertwined and destinies crossed with the ebb and flow of a Parisian rain. Vocabulary Words:the sky: le cieldarkening: s'assombrissaitthe Seine River: le fleuve de la Seinecozy: intimemelancholic: mélancoliquea notebook: un carnetto lose: perdrethe furniture: les meublesthe aroma: les effluvesfreshly ground: fraîchement mouluto threaten: menacerthe misted windows: les fenêtres embuéessubdued light: lumière tamiséeincessant: incessanteto trouble: troublerenergetic: dynamiqueexhilarated: exaltéeunpredictable: imprévisibleto interrupt: interrompreperfect: parfaiteto tell: racontercomings and goings: allées et venuesto capture: capturera croissant: un croissantcurious: curieuseto engage: engagertimidly: timidementrespective: respectivesmutual: mutuelto lift: lever

The Birth of Revolutionary French Fashion: Teresia, Rose, and Juliet. Professor Anne Higonnet's book Liberty, Equality, Fashion: The Women Who Styled the French Revolution examines how three women drove a style revolution separate from the concurrent violence. Teresia, famed as the most beautiful woman in Europe, emerged from prison (La Force) in 1794 and was hailed as the liberation from the Terror. Her prison shift replaced restrictive clothing (like whalebone corsets) and became the greatest Parisian chic, pioneering the flowing dress. Teresia had prompted the end of the Terror by sending a message to her imprisoned lover, Tallien, threatening death by guillotine. The other featured women are Rose (born in Martinique, later Josephine), who teamed up with Teresia after losing their money, and Juliet, who became an international celebrity by adopting an all-white style representing virginity and revolutionary purity. 1791 Josephine

May 1871: Bloody Week and Morisot's Transformation Into a Professional Artist. Sebastian Smee discusses how the Commune began to fall when French government forces returned to retake the city, resulting in Bloody Week in May 1871. The civil conflict was atrociously violent, with the Communards retreating street by street and systematically burning important Parisian buildings. The atmosphere was toxic, resulting in summary executions on a massive scale. Berthe Morisot and her family witnessed the smoke and were stunned by the devastation upon returning. The traumatic events had a profound effect on Morisot, intensifying her resolve to carve out a career as a professional painter—a radical decision for a woman of her background. In subsequent years, Morisot emerged from Manet's shadow, becoming more radical and innovative in her subject matter. 1870

Meet Loïc Estimbre, a Parisian entrepreneur who is behind four different eateries on just one street in the 12th arrondissement.    That street: rue Emilio Castelar.    In this podcast episode, we talk food in Paris, the 12th district in general, and the challenges of funding four separate spots.    As for Loic, I met him when he was behind the counter at the Magic Carpet cafe and was surprised to see him literally building a new eatery down the road. Imagine my surprise to learn that he leading a team that was behind half the places on this little street.   His spots: The restaurant: Le Singe à Paris The café: Magic Carpet For beer and whisky: Chinaski The sandwich spot: Johnny Dwich The music in this episode is from Pres Maxson.  *********** The Earful Tower exists thanks to support from its members. For the past 92 months and counting it has cost just $10 a month to unlock almost endless extras including bonus podcast episodes, live video replays, special event invites, and our annually updated PDF guide to Paris.  Membership takes only a minute to set up on Patreon, or Substack. Thank you for keeping this channel independent.  For more from the Earful Tower, here are some handy links: Website  Weekly newsletter  Walking Tours

In this Fragrance Friday episode of Skin Anarchy, Dr. Ekta Yadav sits down with Hamed Arefian, co-founder of House of Dastan, the niche fragrance brand blending Persian heritage, Parisian craftsmanship, and New York sophistication. Rooted in the Persian word “Dastan,” meaning “stories,” the brand reimagines perfume as a medium for cultural storytelling—where every scent is a narrative, and every bottle, a work of art.Hamed shares how childhood memories of rosewater, cardamom, and tea inspired the sensory poetry behind Dastan's creations. Drawing from his family's deep connection to Persian culture and poetry, each fragrance captures emotion, memory, and identity—bridging generations through scent.Collaborating with renowned perfumer Richard Herpin (creator of Tom Ford's Oud Wood), House of Dastan brings to life a refined harmony of East and West. Their standout fragrance, You?, epitomizes this philosophy—crafted to adapt to each wearer's chemistry, creating a completely unique signature scent. “It's not just worn,” Hamed says. “It becomes you.”As luxury evolves, House of Dastan champions emotional craftsmanship over excess—where true artistry lies in care, integrity, and depth. With three new limited-edition fragrances on the horizon and a SoHo boutique opening this November, the brand continues to redefine what modern luxury means in 2025: intimate, personal, and timeless.Tune in to hear how House of Dastan is transforming fragrance into a living art form—one rooted in heritage, yet designed for the modern soul.CHAPTERS:0:02 – Introduction & Welcome1:00 – The Journey to Founding House of Dastan2:04 – Blending Persian, Parisian, and New York Influences3:42 – The Heritage of Persian Fragrance & Storytelling5:09 – Collaborating with Perfumer Richard Herpin7:09 – The Story Behind “You?”9:09 – The Rise of Middle Eastern Fragrance Culture12:07 – Crafting the First Collection & Fragrance Design Process15:03 – From Retail to Brand Building19:39 – Redefining Luxury & What's Next for House of DastanPlease fill out this survey to give us feedback on the show!Don't forget to subscribe to Skin Anarchy on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or your preferred platform.Reach out to us through email with any questions.Sign up for our newsletter!Shop all our episodes and products mentioned through our ShopMy Shelf! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Lies and deception imploded the Jacobin Republic. Needing to save themselves from accusations of corruption, multiple deputies invented foreign plots to mask their own conspiracies. Destroying trust while incriminating innocents, these fabrications are essential to understanding the fall of the Jacobins. This episode explores how Fabre d'Églantine and François Chabot created the “Foreign Plot” to conceal their own financial crimes. From the French East India Company to the murky world of Parisian finance, discover how greed and paranoia destroyed the Revolution from within. 2026 Tours Don't forget to have your say with the 2026 Tour survey! Early Access Become a True Revolutionary and listen now to Episode 102 "The French East India Company with Dr Elizabeth Cross " The Grey History Community Help keep Grey History on the air! Every revolution needs its supporters, and we need you! With an ad-free feed, a community discord, a reading club, and tonnes of exclusive bonus content, you're missing out! Do your part for as little as half a cup of coffee per episode! It's the best value on the internet, with the best people too! ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Join Now And Support the Show⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Make a one-off donation⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Contact Me Send your questions, praise, and scorn ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Newsletter ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Sign Up⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ for Free Bonus Episode Follow on Social Media: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Facebook⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠X⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Advertising Please contact ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠sales@advertisecast.com⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ if you would like to advertise on Grey History: The French Revolution and Napoleon. All members of the Grey History Community have an ad-free version of the show. Support the show ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠here⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. About Grey History: The French Revolution and Napoleon is a podcast dedicated to exploring the complexities of our history. By examining both the experiences of contemporaries and the conclusions of historians, Grey History seeks to unpack the ambiguities and nuances of the past. Understanding the French Revolution and the age of Napoleon Bonaparte is critical to understanding the history of the world, so join us on a journey through a series of events that would be almost unbelievable if it weren't for the fact that it's true! If you're looking for a binge-worthy history podcast on the Revolution and Napoleon, you're in the right place! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Truwant+Rodet+ is a Basel-based architecture firm founded in 2015 by Charlotte Truwant and Dries Rodet, which operates across the fields of architecture, landscape urbanism, exhibition making, installations, furniture design, research, and teaching.In 2017, they received the Swiss Art Award for their project A Pavilion. Since 2018, they have been developing the project, Fountain of Youth with Fabian Marti for the Campus Santé in Lausanne. In 2020, Truwant+Rodet+ won the renovation for the Centre Culturel Suisse in Paris with the Parisian firm ASBR. In 2022, they won the competition for the renovation of the Stadium of Bulle.This conversation was recorded remotely on 12 September in Basel and London. Special thanks this week to Bárbara Maçães Costa.The essay "Time as Material" referred to in the conversation can be accessed here. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

In this French Connections Plus, Genie Godula and Florence Villeminot continue their tour of Paris with a stop in the little-known 11th arrondissement. It's off the typical tourist track, but a favourite for locals. That's because the 11th is undoubtedly one of the coolest parts of town, full of trendy cafés, a dynamic food scene and wild nightlife. It's been a magnet for revellers for centuries, as well as a hotbed of popular revolt. Join us on this discovery tour of Paris's 11th arrondissement – an area that's edgy, vibrant and full of authentic Parisian energy you don't want to miss.

This episode features our live audience conversation with Chantal Gonet of Champagne Philippe Gonet recorded at The Vine Club in Atlanta, GA. Chantal and her brother, Pierre, were pressed into service after the untimely death of their father, Philippe. Chantal was in a Parisian engineering school and Pierre was studying winemaking in Burgundy, but their mother stepped in and managed the estate largely by herself. In France, however, a large inheritance meant an even larger tax, so Chantal's mother decided to undertake an enormous loan from the bank to pay the taxes to keep the domaine in the family. We talk about her family's history and the obstacles they've overcome to get to this point in her career. In 2024, Champagne Philippe Gonet was Guide Hachette's Vigneron de l'Année, and Chantal has taken nearly half their holdings into biodynamic farming—an impressive feat in Champagne. You can visit www.champagne-philippe-gonet.com/en to learn more about their wines represented by Uva Imports (@uvaimports). You can also follow @chantalgonet and @champagnephilippegonet on Instagram.-------------Recorded October 20, 2025 with a LIVE audience at The Vine Club in Atlanta, GA made possible with generous support from Uva Imports (www.uvaimports.com)

Hey, it's Cindy, send me a text, get in touch![TRAVEL] [PARIS] [TOURISM] In this inspiring episode of the Fearless Entrepreneurs Podcast, host Cindy Chang sits down with April Pett, founder of April and Paris Tours, to uncover how a small-town Canadian turned her love of travel and languages into a thriving tour business in the heart of Paris. April opens up about her bold leap across the Atlantic, the hurdles of navigating French bureaucracy, building a boutique brand from scratch, and staying resilient through the COVID-19 pandemic. She also shares her candid take on dating across cultures and her exciting plans to expand into Bordeaux with new, personalized travel experiences.Whether you're dreaming of starting a business abroad or just love a good underdog story, this episode is packed with real talk, fearless insights, and Parisian charm. 

Nicolas Flamel, the alchemist from Harry Potter, was a real 14th-century Parisian bookseller who became legendary for supposedly discovering the secret to immortality—and some believe he faked his death in 1418 and is still alive today.Support our Halloween “Overcoming the Darkness” campaign to help people with depression: https://weirddarkness.com/HOPEIN THIS EPISODE: It's what every non-muggle dreams of… to be able to turn any metal into gold and to create a magic potion to give one eternal life! So is the life of wizarding at Hogwarts in the Harry Potter books. But was there a real Philosopher's Stone? Was there a Real Nicolas Flamel who created it? (The Real Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone) *** In 1929 the Soviet Union decided seven days a week just too many to keep track of, and it's easier to count by five – so in the USSR they suddenly began to live life with only five days per week. No more weekends. How do you think the citizens took that news? (What is Life in a Five Day Week?) *** While not nearly as well-known as its larger Bermudan brother, the Bridgewater Triangle in southeastern Massachusetts in the United States is home to strange tales itself, with the paranormal, unexplained, and even home to its very own cryptid. (The Eerie Inhabitants of the Mysterious Bridgewater Triangle) *** Author Margaret Helen James wrote, “There is an uncomfortable sort of ghostly terror, in beast form, that haunts the villages on the borders of the two counties, which is commonly called the ‘Hateful Thing'. I allude to the churchyard or hell-beast.” Something was terrifying people in the marshlands of a small county in England and tales of it can still bring nightmares to those who live there today. (The Hateful Thing of Geldeston) CHAPTERS & TIME STAMPS (All Times Approximate)…00:00:00.000 = Show Open00:02:30.429 = The Real Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone00:09:15.670 = The Hateful Thing of Geldeston00:16:11.858 = ***Eerie Inhabitants of Bridgewater Triangle00:36:50.673 = ***What Is Life In a Five Day Week?00:47:00.746 = Show Close & Bloopers*** = Begins immediately after inserted ad breakSOURCES and RESOURCES – and/or --- PRINT VERSION to READ or SHARE:“The Real Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone” from Wizarding World: https://tinyurl.com/yycxmws5“The Eerie Inhabitants of the Mysterious Bridgewater Triangle” by Susannah Sudborough for South Coast Todayhttps://tinyurl.com/y5n3rjcb, and Wicked Local https://tinyurl.com/yxh7g6k2“The Hateful Thing of Geldeston” by Stacia Briggs and Siofra Connor for Eastern Daily Press: https://tinyurl.com/y4z2bdc8“What is Life in a Five Day Week?” by Genevieve Carlton for Weird History: https://tinyurl.com/y2u97jxy“Bogie Tales of East Anglia” by Margaret Helen James: https://amzn.to/3bWfAcP"Mysterious America: The Ultimate Guide To The Nation's Weirdest Wonders, Strangest Spots, and Creepiest Creatures" by Loren Coleman: https://amzn.to/3spR8X3=====(Over time links may become invalid, disappear, or have different content. I always make sure to give authors credit for the material I use whenever possible. If I somehow overlooked doing so for a story, or if a credit is incorrect, please let me know and I will rectify it in these show notes immediately. Some links included above may benefit me financially through qualifying purchases.)= = = = ="I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness." — John 12:46= = = = =WeirdDarkness® is a registered trademark. Copyright ©2025, Weird Darkness.=====Originally aired: January 16, 2021EPISODE PAGE (includes sources): https://weirddarkness.com/NicolasFlamelABOUT WEIRD DARKNESS: Weird Darkness is a true crime and paranormal podcast narrated by professional award-winning voice actor, Darren Marlar. Seven days per week, Weird Darkness focuses on all thing strange and macabre such as haunted locations, unsolved mysteries, true ghost stories, supernatural manifestations, urban legends, unsolved or cold case murders, conspiracy theories, and more. On Thursdays, this scary stories podcast features horror fiction along with the occasional creepypasta. Weird Darkness has been named one of the “Best 20 Storytellers in Podcasting” by Podcast Business Journal. Listeners have described the show as a cross between “Coast to Coast” with Art Bell, “The Twilight Zone” with Rod Serling, “Unsolved Mysteries” with Robert Stack, and “In Search Of” with Leonard Nimoy.DISCLAIMER: Ads heard during the podcast that are not in my voice are placed by third party agencies outside of my control and should not imply an endorsement by Weird Darkness or myself. *** Stories and content in Weird Darkness can be disturbing for some listeners and intended for mature audiences only. Parental discretion is strongly advised.#NicolasFlamel #HarryPotter #PhilosophersStone #Alchemy #Immortality #MedievalHistory #HistoricalMysteries #OccultHistory #DarkHistory #WeirdDarkness

What happens when a former lawyer, pop musician, and science writer trades logic for imagination—and builds entire worlds from it? In episode 233 of Joy Found Here, author Lexy Shaw Delorme shares how a life of reinvention—from MTV studios to genetic startups to Parisian cafés—led her to discover writing as both calling and compass. With humor, grit, and rebellion, she reveals what it takes to trust creativity, defy convention, and turn every twist of fate into story.In This Episode, You Will Learn:From military brat to multi-hyphenate (04:28)MTV dreams and the lawyer detour (05:15)The moment writing took over (06:37)Life between Paris, Hong Kong, and London (08:23)Five years of world-building magic (10:51)Turning travel into story (13:19)Fighting the publishing patriarchy (35:24)Writing as a family affair (38:20)Finding readers in real life (44:59)Pain, purpose, and paying attention (51:51)Lexy Shaw Delorme is an award-winning American author, world traveler, and former lawyer based in Paris. A creative polymath, she's been a pop musician with an MTV feature, a science writer at 23andMe, and a sound engineer—all before turning to fiction. Writing under the pen name S. Delorme, she's known for her cross-genre urban-fantasy series—Caio, Bright Midnight, and Fanning Fireflies—where paranormal romance meets legal drama and metaphysical intrigue. Blending science, spirituality, and storytelling, she explores what lies beneath appearances and how consciousness connects us all, appearing regularly at Comic-Cons and literary festivals across Europe and the U.S.In this episode, Lexy reflects on a life shaped by curiosity, reinvention, and writing as her constant thread. From military-base childhood to law school, MTV band days, and early 23andMe startup life, she traces how each experience fuels her stories. She shares how years of world-building, travel, and spirituality became the foundation for her novels—and how turning writing into a family project keeps her inspired. Defying industry bias and following her instincts, Lexy reminds us that courage means answering the quiet knock of inspiration and living wide open to whatever story comes next.Connect with Lexy Shaw Delorme:WebsiteTikTokInstagramXSoundCloudGet Lexy's books!Let's Connect:WebsiteInstagram Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Fluent Fiction - French: Suitcases of Serendipity: A Parisian Encounter Amidst Chaos Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-10-28-22-34-02-fr Story Transcript:Fr: Dans l'agitation du matin à l'aéroport Charles de Gaulle, le ciel d'automne s'étendait au-delà des grandes fenêtres vitrées.En: In the bustle of the morning at l'aéroport Charles de Gaulle, the autumn sky stretched beyond the large glass windows.Fr: Luc, un homme soigné en costume impeccablement repassé, se tenait dans la file d'enregistrement, serrant fermement la poignée de sa valise noire.En: Luc, a well-groomed man in an impeccably pressed suit, stood in the check-in line, gripping the handle of his black suitcase tightly.Fr: Cet homme d'affaires fixait l'écran des départs, sentant encore une fois la routine l'envahir.En: This businessman stared at the departures screen, feeling the routine wash over him once more.Fr: À quelques mètres de là, Élodie, une artiste pétillante, venait d'atterrir après un séjour mémorable à l'étranger.En: A few meters away, Élodie, a vibrant artist, had just landed after a memorable stay abroad.Fr: Sa valise, identique à celle de Luc, était pleine de ses dernières œuvres et d'un secret précieux qu'elle devait absolument protéger.En: Her suitcase, identical to Luc's, was full of her latest works and a precious secret she absolutely had to protect.Fr: Dans le hall bondé, entre les effluves de café et les voix pressées des voyageurs, le destin joua un tour.En: In the crowded hall, amid the scents of coffee and the hurried voices of travelers, destiny played a trick.Fr: Les deux protagonistes, distraits par leurs pensées respectives, échangèrent accidentellement leurs valises.En: The two protagonists, distracted by their respective thoughts, accidentally exchanged their suitcases.Fr: Luc, sans s'en rendre compte, quitta la file, la tête toujours plongée dans ses habitudes, manquant le changement de paysage qu'il désirait secrètement.En: Luc, without realizing it, left the line, his head still immersed in his habits, missing the change of scenery he secretly desired.Fr: Pendant ce temps, Élodie réalisait l'erreur une fois arrivée à la salle des bagages.En: Meanwhile, Élodie realized the mistake once she arrived at the baggage area.Fr: Paniquée, elle scrutait la foule à la recherche de Luc.En: Panicked, she scanned the crowd searching for Luc.Fr: Quand elle le repéra, elle s'élança vers lui, son cœur battant fort.En: When she spotted him, she rushed toward him, her heart pounding.Fr: "Monsieur, je crois que nous avons échangé nos valises."En: "Monsieur, I believe we exchanged our suitcases."Fr: Luc, d'abord surpris, laissa entrevoir un sourire.En: Luc, initially surprised, let a smile appear.Fr: Pour la première fois depuis longtemps, l'inconnu s'installait dans sa journée.En: For the first time in a long while, the unknown entered his day.Fr: Ensemble, ils trouvèrent un coin tranquille du terminal.En: Together, they found a quiet corner of the terminal.Fr: Luc ouvrit la valise à côté d'Élodie.En: Luc opened the suitcase next to Élodie.Fr: Un compartiment secret révéla des objets précieux : des dessins inestimables et un petit objet brillant et énigmatique.En: A secret compartment revealed precious items: invaluable drawings and a small shiny and enigmatic object.Fr: "Ce secret m'appartient," avoua Élodie, ses yeux pleins de mystère.En: "This secret belongs to me," admitted Élodie, her eyes full of mystery.Fr: Luc était fasciné.En: Luc was fascinated.Fr: Il accepta de l'aider, oubliant ses inquiétudes habituelles, embrassant l'aventure avec une excitation nouvelle.En: He agreed to help her, forgetting his usual worries and embracing the adventure with new excitement.Fr: Après avoir récupéré l'objet important, Élodie remercia chaleureusement Luc.En: After retrieving the important object, Élodie warmly thanked Luc.Fr: Ils se séparèrent, mais non sans la promesse discrète de se retrouver un jour à Paris, peut-être dans une galerie d'art ou un café caché.En: They parted ways, but not without the discreet promise to meet again one day in Paris, perhaps in an art gallery or a hidden café.Fr: Luc quitta l'aéroport, une nouvelle lumière dans le regard.En: Luc left the airport, a new light in his eyes.Fr: Sa vie, autrefois rigide et prévisible, présentait enfin la promesse de l'imprévu.En: His life, once rigid and predictable, finally held the promise of the unexpected.Fr: L'automne, avec ses couleurs changeantes, symbolisait parfaitement le renouveau qu'il s'apprêtait à vivre.En: Autumn, with its changing colors, perfectly symbolized the renewal he was about to experience.Fr: Fin.En: The End. Vocabulary Words:the bustle: l'agitationthe handle: la poignéethe departures screen: l'écran des départsto grip: serrerroutine: la routinethe artist: l'artistememorable: mémorableprecious: précieuxthe crowd: la fouledestiny: le destinto exchange: échangerthe habit: l'habitudeto realize: réaliserpanicked: paniquéeto scan: scruterthe mistake: l'erreurenigma: l'énigmeto admit: avouerto embrace: embrasserthe excitement: l'excitationthe promise: la promessethe gallery: la galeriehidden: cachéthe adventure: l'aventureto part ways: se séparerthe renewal: le renouveauthe scenery: le paysageto fascinate: fascinerto forget: oublierthe change: le changement

This episode we welcome back Brain Crawford to share a trip report on his recent visit to Disneyland Paris. We also share a Disneyland Paris related top 10 list, and round of the episode with a report of attractions coming soon to the Parisian resort.   Download (right click / save as) Visit our on-line store for exclusive Jiminy Crickets and DisneyChris Website Merch!!! https://jcpodcast.threadless.com/If you would like to help support the Jiminy Crickets podcasts and DisneyChris.com - Please consider becoming a Patreon Subscriber and receive exclusive rewards every month. https://www.patreon.com/DisneyChris  THE OPTIMAL WAY TO EXPERIENCE THIS PODCAST EPISODE IS VIA YOUTUBEDateline Jiminy Crickets is first and foremost a video experience. We post an audio version for those who prefer it that way, but to get he most out of this episode, we highly recommend viewing it over on our YouTube channel, as it  contains many images and other visual elements. Click the link below to view the video version....https://youtu.be/UbwIqIxJqTA?si=RmPEqLMqIq5GSWKh   

Audiovisual ➡️ fanlink.tv/Y0UTUBE Tracklisting ➡️ soon.. Yank brings his signature Parisian flair to Schirmchendrink with Mezcalita Dreams, a mix as smooth, smoky, and vibrant as its namesake cocktail. Much like the mezcal-based twist on a margarita, this set balances warmth and brightness, blending deep percussive energy with hypnotic melodies that ignite the senses. A key figure in Paris's electronic music scene, Yank began his journey in 2017 with the Vryche House collective before joining the Chevry Agency as creative director. Over the years, he has played and curated events at iconic venues such as Elektric Park Festival, Badaboum, and La Mazette, sharing lineups with artists like Oxia, Agoria, and Robin Schulz. His sets bridge organic and melodic house with indie dance, creating soundscapes that feel both intimate and cinematic. In Mezcalita Dreams, Yank distills his years of artistry into a captivating journey, bright, deep, and full of rhythm. Like the perfect cocktail rimmed with a hint of spice, this mix leaves a lasting impression: bold, uplifting, and infused with a touch of the unexpected. Close your eyes, take a sip, and let the music carry you. Cheers! The bartenders Yank @yank00 www.instagram.com/yank_music Schirmchendrink @schirmchendrink www.facebook.com/schirmchendrink www.instagram.com/schirmchendrink

Fluent Fiction - French: Parisian Hearts Unite: An Artist's Awakening in Montmartre Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-10-26-07-38-20-fr Story Transcript:Fr: Le vent d'automne soufflait doucement sur les rues pavées de Montmartre.En: The autumn wind gently blew over the cobbled streets of Montmartre.Fr: Les feuilles orange et dorées tourbillonnaient sous les pieds de Julien, un jeune artiste souvent perdu dans ses pensées.En: The orange and golden leaves swirled under the feet of Julien, a young artist often lost in his thoughts.Fr: Il entra dans le petit café du coin, son refuge habituel pour échapper au brouhaha de Paris.En: He entered the small café on the corner, his usual refuge to escape the hustle and bustle of Paris.Fr: L'odeur du café fraîchement moulu emplit l'air, et les lumières tamisées créaient une ambiance chaleureuse, presque magique.En: The smell of freshly ground coffee filled the air, and the dim lights created a warm, almost magical ambiance.Fr: Aujourd'hui, quelque chose était différent.En: Today, something was different.Fr: Assise à une table près de la fenêtre, Elise, une photographe pleine de vie, regardait attentivement son appareil.En: Sitting at a table near the window, Elise, a lively photographer, was attentively looking at her camera.Fr: Elle capturait les éclats de rire, les gestes familiers, la vie qui s'écoulait.En: She captured bursts of laughter, familiar gestures, the flow of life.Fr: Elle était venue à Paris pour redécouvrir la beauté à travers son objectif.En: She had come to Paris to rediscover beauty through her lens.Fr: Julien s'installa à une table voisine, un carnet de croquis à la main.En: Julien sat at a nearby table, a sketchbook in hand.Fr: Il l'observa, intrigué par sa concentration.En: He observed her, intrigued by her focus.Fr: Elise leva les yeux, leurs regards se croisèrent, et elle lui sourit chaleureusement.En: Elise looked up, their eyes met, and she warmly smiled at him.Fr: Poussés par une curiosité mutuelle, ils commencèrent à discuter.En: Driven by mutual curiosity, they began to talk.Fr: Ils parlèrent de leurs rêves, de leurs doutes, de l'art qui les unissait.En: They spoke of their dreams, their doubts, of the art that united them.Fr: Elise raconta comment elle cherchait l'authenticité dans chaque photo.En: Elise recounted how she sought authenticity in every photo.Fr: Julien, lui, avoua son blocage créatif, sa peur de l'ordinaire.En: Julien admitted his creative block, his fear of the ordinary.Fr: Leurs échanges furent comme un vent frais soufflant sur une flamme vacillante.En: Their exchanges were like a fresh wind blowing on a flickering flame.Fr: Inspirée par la passion de Julien pour la peinture, Elise lui proposa un projet commun.En: Inspired by Julien's passion for painting, Elise suggested a joint project.Fr: Pourquoi ne pas combiner leurs talents pour créer quelque chose d'unique?En: Why not combine their talents to create something unique?Fr: Julien sentit un déclic en lui, une lumière qu'il n'avait pas ressentie depuis longtemps.En: Julien felt a spark within him, a light he hadn't felt in a long time.Fr: Ensemble, ils voyaient Montmartre sous un jour nouveau, vibrant de possibilités.En: Together, they saw Montmartre in a new light, vibrant with possibilities.Fr: Au fil des jours, leur rencontre fortuite devint une routine joyeuse.En: Over the days, their chance meeting became a joyful routine.Fr: Ils exploraient les ruelles, les parcs, les marchés, capturant des instants de vie.En: They explored the alleyways, the parks, the markets, capturing moments of life.Fr: Julien, le cœur léger, trouvait enfin son chemin à travers ses toiles.En: Julien, with a light heart, finally found his way through his canvases.Fr: Les coup de pinceaux pleins de couleur racontaient une histoire de redécouverte et de courage.En: The brush strokes full of color told a story of rediscovery and courage.Fr: Elise, de son côté, remplissait ses albums de moments partagés, précieux et sincères.En: Elise, on her side, filled her albums with shared, precious, and sincere moments.Fr: Puis vint la veille de Halloween, une fête peu célébrée en France, mais que le café avait décidé de marquer.En: Then came the eve of Halloween, a holiday seldom celebrated in France, but that the café had decided to mark.Fr: Les lanternes sculptées éclairaient la pièce de motifs dansants.En: Carved lanterns illuminated the room with dancing patterns.Fr: Julien et Elise, entourés d'amis, souriaient, épanouis dans cette aventure inattendue.En: Julien and Elise, surrounded by friends, smiled, fulfilled in this unexpected adventure.Fr: Ils avaient trouvé non seulement une source d'inspiration mais aussi une nouvelle amitié, peut-être plus.En: They had found not only a source of inspiration but also a new friendship, perhaps more.Fr: Le café à Montmartre serait toujours le lieu de leur connexion spéciale, un symbole d'un nouveau départ.En: The café in Montmartre would always be the place of their special connection, a symbol of a new beginning.Fr: Pour Julien, l'art n'était plus un fardeau, mais une expression joyeuse.En: For Julien, art was no longer a burden, but a joyful expression.Fr: Pour Elise, Paris avait donné naissance à des images inoubliables et à des liens précieux.En: For Elise, Paris had given birth to unforgettable images and precious bonds.Fr: Ensemble, ils réalisèrent qu'ils n'étaient plus perdus, mais sur un chemin lumineux, main dans la main.En: Together, they realized they were no longer lost, but on a bright path, hand in hand. Vocabulary Words:the autumn wind: le vent d'automnethe cobbled streets: les rues pavéesthe hustle and bustle: le brouhahathe dim lights: les lumières tamiséesthe magical ambiance: l'ambiance magiquethe young artist: le jeune artistethe familiar gestures: les gestes familiersto rediscover: redécouvrirthe sketchbook: le carnet de croquisthe creative block: le blocage créatifthe fresh wind: le vent fraisthe flickering flame: la flamme vacillanteto propose: proposerthe light heart: le cœur légerthe brush strokes: les coup de pinceauxthe rediscovery: la redécouvertethe courage: le couragethe shared moments: les moments partagésthe carved lanterns: les lanternes sculptéesthe dancing patterns: les motifs dansantsthe unexpected adventure: l'aventure inattenduethe new beginning: le nouveau départthe joyful expression: l'expression joyeusethe unforgettable images: les images inoubliablesthe precious bonds: les liens précieuxthe bright path: le chemin lumineuxthe chance meeting: la rencontre fortuitethe vibrant possibilities: les possibilités vibrantesthe sincere moments: les moments sincèresthe joint project: le projet commun

Fluent Fiction - French: Crossing Paths in Paris: How Art Revived Two Lost Souls Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-10-25-22-34-02-fr Story Transcript:Fr: Dans le cœur vibrant de Paris, l'automne danse dans l'air frais tandis que les feuilles tourbillonnent doucement sur le pavé.En: In the vibrant heart of Paris, autumn dances in the crisp air while leaves gently whirl on the pavement.Fr: Le musée d'art est un refuge, une immense bâtisse aux plafonds hauts, décorée de détails sculptés et illuminée par une lumière dorée filtrant à travers ses grandes fenêtres.En: The art museum is a refuge, an immense building with high ceilings, decorated with sculpted details and illuminated by golden light filtering through its large windows.Fr: Amélie, une étudiante en histoire de l'art, déambule dans les salles vastes du musée.En: Amélie, a student of art history, wanders through the vast halls of the museum.Fr: Elle cherche l'inspiration pour son mémoire.En: She is seeking inspiration for her thesis.Fr: Impressionnisme.En: Impressionism.Fr: Elle adore ce mouvement, mais elle doute de ses capacités.En: She loves this movement, but she doubts her abilities.Fr: Elle ressent la pression des attentes académiques et craint de ne pas être à la hauteur.En: She feels the pressure of academic expectations and fears she may not measure up.Fr: Non loin de là, Luc se tient devant une toile.En: Not far away, Luc stands in front of a canvas.Fr: Il est peintre, mais depuis quelque temps, il est en panne d'inspiration.En: He is a painter, but for some time now, he has been struggling with a lack of inspiration.Fr: Luc vient souvent ici, espérant qu'un éclat de couleur ou un détail dans une peinture ravive sa passion.En: Luc often comes here, hoping that a burst of color or a detail in a painting will reignite his passion.Fr: Mais aujourd'hui, comme les autres jours, il est perdu dans ses pensées, inquiet de ne plus jamais créer quelque chose de significatif.En: But today, like other days, he is lost in his thoughts, worried that he will never create something meaningful again.Fr: Leurs chemins se croisent devant un tableau de Monet.En: Their paths cross in front of a Monet painting.Fr: Les nénuphars flottent paisiblement sur la toile.En: Water lilies float peacefully on the canvas.Fr: Amélie est captivée par la fluidité des coups de pinceau.En: Amélie is captivated by the fluidity of the brushstrokes.Fr: Luc, lui, est attiré par la lumière douce qui émane de la scène.En: Luc, on the other hand, is drawn to the gentle light emanating from the scene.Fr: Le silence plane entre eux, mais il est plein de respect et de compréhension mutuelle.En: Silence hangs between them, but it is full of mutual respect and understanding.Fr: Amélie, d'un élan de courage, décide de briser ce silence.En: Amélie, with a burst of courage, decides to break the silence.Fr: "Ce tableau est magnifique, n'est-ce pas ?"En: "This painting is beautiful, isn't it?"Fr: demande-t-elle timidement.En: she asks timidly.Fr: Luc, surpris mais amusé, tourne la tête vers elle et sourit.En: Luc, surprised but amused, turns his head towards her and smiles.Fr: "Oui, il est apaisant.En: "Yes, it's soothing.Fr: Ces couleurs me font rêver."En: These colors make me dream."Fr: La conversation s'enclenche naturellement.En: The conversation flows naturally.Fr: Ils partagent leurs passions et leurs inquiétudes.En: They share their passions and their worries.Fr: Amélie parle de son mémoire, de ses peurs, et Luc lui raconte ses difficultés avec ses peintures.En: Amélie talks about her thesis, her fears, and Luc tells her about his difficulties with his paintings.Fr: Malgré leurs soucis respectifs, il semble qu'ils se comprennent parfaitement.En: Despite their respective concerns, it seems that they understand each other perfectly.Fr: Alors qu'ils échangent leurs idées, Amélie perçoit le monde de l'art sous un nouvel angle.En: As they exchange ideas, Amélie begins to see the art world from a new perspective.Fr: Elle sent émerger en elle une nouvelle approche pour son mémoire.En: She feels a new approach for her thesis emerging within her.Fr: Luc, quant à lui, se surprend à repenser à de nouvelles scènes à peindre, des paysages lumineux, inspirés par la sérénité des nénuphars.En: Luc, for his part, finds himself thinking about new scenes to paint, bright landscapes, inspired by the serenity of the water lilies.Fr: L'après-midi s'écoule et le musée se vide peu à peu.En: The afternoon passes and the museum gradually empties.Fr: Amélie et Luc se promettent de se revoir.En: Amélie and Luc promise to meet again.Fr: Ils se sentent revigorés, prêts à affronter leurs défis avec un regard neuf.En: They feel invigorated, ready to face their challenges with a fresh outlook.Fr: Amélie rentre chez elle, déterminée à écrire son mémoire avec une confiance retrouvée.En: Amélie returns home, determined to write her thesis with renewed confidence.Fr: Luc retourne à son atelier, impatient de reprendre ses pinceaux.En: Luc returns to his studio, eager to pick up his brushes again.Fr: Dans la lumière douce de l'automne, sous les ciels parisiens, deux âmes créatives ont trouvé l'étincelle qui manquait.En: In the gentle autumn light, under the Parisian skies, two creative souls have found the spark they were missing.Fr: Leur rencontre fortuite dans les salles silencieuses du musée les a transformées.En: Their chance encounter in the silent halls of the museum has transformed them.Fr: Amélie est prête à plonger dans ses études avec assurance, et Luc a renoué avec sa passion pour l'art.En: Amélie is ready to dive into her studies with assurance, and Luc has reconnected with his passion for art.Fr: C'est ainsi que, ce jour-là, au cœur d'un musée ancien, l'art a, encore une fois, changé des vies.En: And so, on that day, in the heart of an ancient museum, art, once again, changed lives. Vocabulary Words:the heart: le cœurvibrant: vibrantautumn: l'automnecrisp: fraisthe pavement: le pavéa refuge: un refugeimmense: immensethe ceiling: le plafondsculpted: sculptéto illuminate: illuminergolden: doréthe student: l'étudianteto wander: déambulerinspiration: l'inspirationthe thesis: le mémoireImpressionism: l'Impressionnismethe expectation: l'attenteto measure up: être à la hauteura canvas: une toileto struggle: être en panneto reignite: raviverthe brushstroke: le coup de pinceauto emanate: émanersoothing: apaisantto captivate: captiverthe mutual respect: le respect mutuelburst of courage: un élan de couragetimidly: timidementthe perspective: l'anglebrave: audacieux

China's fast fashion mega-seller Shein is opening its first permanent Paris boutique in the iconic Bazar de l'Hotel de Ville department store. Parisian purists say the move betrays the artistry and craftsmanship of France's tradition of couture. Some are boycotting the store and others have even started a petition in opposition of Shein's Paris arrival.Learn more about sponsor message choices: podcastchoices.com/adchoicesNPR Privacy Policy

In this show dedicated to the 10th edition of Also Known As Africa (AKAA), Dheepthika Laurent talks to Zimbabwean mixed-media artist Victor Nyakauru, known for being a “found-object” sculptor. He tells us why he is passionate about breathing new life into old objects and what messages he hopes to convey about environmental sustainability. Also on set: South African photographer and visual artist Gavin Goodman. He talks about his “Vela series” at AKAA, in which he blends African heritage with a minimalist perspective. Finally, we look ahead to Asia Now — the Parisian contemporary-art fair celebrating Asian art and artists at La Monnaie de Paris.

Fluent Fiction - French: From Gray Skies to Imagination: A Parisian Collaboration Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-10-24-22-34-02-fr Story Transcript:Fr: La tour Montparnasse se dresse majestueusement au-dessus de Paris.En: The Montparnasse Tower rises majestically above Paris.Fr: Ses vitres scintillent même sous le ciel gris d'automne.En: Its windows sparkle even under the gray autumn sky.Fr: Luc, un écrivain pensif, contemple l'horizon.En: Luc, a thoughtful writer, gazes at the horizon.Fr: Il est à la recherche d'un nouveau souffle pour son roman.En: He is searching for a new inspiration for his novel.Fr: À ses côtés se tient Émilie, une photographe pleine de vie.En: Next to him stands Émilie, a lively photographer.Fr: Elle espère saisir le cliché parfait pour son exposition d'automne.En: She hopes to capture the perfect shot for her autumn exhibition.Fr: Ensemble, ils montent à l'observatoire.En: Together, they ascend to the observatory.Fr: Mais la foule est dense.En: But the crowd is dense.Fr: Des familles, des couples, tous admirent la vue, bien que le ciel soit couvert.En: Families, couples, all admire the view, even though the sky is overcast.Fr: Les nuages sombres cachent souvent la ville, mais ici et là, des éclats de lumière révèlent Paris en-dessous.En: The dark clouds often obscure the city, but here and there, bursts of light reveal Paris below.Fr: Luc prend une profonde inspiration.En: Luc takes a deep breath.Fr: La ville s'étend à perte de vue.En: The city stretches as far as the eye can see.Fr: Il espérait un panorama éclatant, mais il est face à un décor monotone.En: He hoped for a brilliant panorama, but is faced with a monotone scene.Fr: Émilie, quant à elle, ajuste son appareil photo.En: Émilie, on her part, adjusts her camera.Fr: Elle cherche désespérément un angle différent, quelque chose de singulier.En: She desperately searches for a different angle, something unique.Fr: Désemparé, Luc se tourne vers Émilie.En: Disheartened, Luc turns to Émilie.Fr: "Et si on trouvait un autre coin ?"En: "What if we find another spot?"Fr: propose-t-il.En: he suggests.Fr: Émilie acquiesce avec enthousiasme.En: Émilie eagerly agrees.Fr: Ils se faufilent à travers la foule, découvrant un recoin moins fréquenté de la terrasse.En: They weave through the crowd, discovering a less crowded corner of the terrace.Fr: Ici, un panorama différent s'offre à eux.En: Here, a different panorama unfolds before them.Fr: Leurs yeux balayent l'horizon.En: Their eyes sweep across the horizon.Fr: Luc voit soudain-là une poésie dans la tristesse du ciel.En: Luc suddenly sees a poetry in the sadness of the sky.Fr: Il sort son carnet et commence à écrire.En: He pulls out his notebook and begins to write.Fr: Les mots viennent facilement, inspirés par la mélancolie paisible de l'automne.En: The words come easily, inspired by the peaceful melancholy of autumn.Fr: À côté, Émilie prend des photos, capturant la danse des nuages au-dessus de la ville.En: Beside him, Émilie takes photos, capturing the dance of the clouds above the city.Fr: Leur collaboration naît doucement.En: Their collaboration is gently born.Fr: Luc partage ses notes avec Émilie.En: Luc shares his notes with Émilie.Fr: En retour, elle montre ses photographies.En: In return, she shows her photographs.Fr: Chaque image présente une nouvelle perspective, un nouvel angle.En: Each image presents a new perspective, a new angle.Fr: Leurs œuvres se répondent, s'enrichissent mutuellement.En: Their works converse with and enrich each other.Fr: Au fil des heures, le ciel s'ouvre légèrement, offrant un aperçu timide du soleil.En: As the hours pass, the sky opens slightly, offering a timid glimpse of the sun.Fr: Luc et Émilie, ravis, aperçoivent la beauté insoupçonnée dans cette grisaille.En: Luc and Émilie, delighted, perceive the unsuspected beauty in the grayness.Fr: Leur regard a changé.En: Their perspective has changed.Fr: Ensemble, ils ont fait des nuages leur allié et ont découvert une nouvelle facette de Paris.En: Together, they have made the clouds their ally and discovered a new facet of Paris.Fr: À la fin de la journée, ils se disent au revoir avec un projet commun : un livre mêlant les mots de Luc aux photos d'Émilie.En: At the end of the day, they say goodbye with a common project: a book combining Luc's words with Émilie's photos.Fr: Une création unique, née de l'imprévu d'une journée automnale, où chacun a appris à voir au-delà des apparences et à apprécier la richesse de la collaboration.En: A unique creation, born from the unexpected of an autumn day, where each has learned to see beyond appearances and appreciate the richness of collaboration. Vocabulary Words:the tower: la tourthe horizon: l'horizonsparkle: scintillerthoughtful: pensifthe inspiration: le soufflelively: pleine de vieto capture: saisirthe exhibition: l'expositionto ascend: monterthe crowd: la foulethe family: la familleto admire: admirerovercast: couvertthe cloud: le nuageto obscure: cacherthe light: la lumièrethe breath: la respirationthe brilliance: l'éclatmonotone: monotoneto adjust: ajusterdesperately: désespérémentthe angle: l'anglethe sadness: la tristessepeaceful: paisiblethe melancholy: la mélancolieto weave: se faufilerunique: singulierto perceive: apercevoirthe beauty: la beautéthe collaboration: la collaboration

If you've been following the Kooky Spooky Countdown, it has all been leading up to this: Elise Parisian, the host of Unspookable, sits down with Adam Gidwitz, the creator and host of Grimm, Grimmer, Grimmest and New York Times best-selling author, to talk about scary stories themselves. Why do we tell them? What purpose do they serve? And what has Adam learned in all his years of studying and retelling Grimms' Fairy Tales? All with a little help from our SCARE-rator, Jonathan Cormur, the host of Dorktales Storytime. It's a conversation you don't want to miss. The Kooky Spooky Countdown Three award-winning, family-favorite children's podcasts - Grimm, Grimmer, Grimmest (Pinna), Unspookable (Soundsington Media), and Dorktales Storytime - have teamed up this October for the Kooky Spooky Countdown, a seasonal, screen-free listening event for families and classrooms everywhere. Participants are challenged to listen to 13 “spooky-ish” podcast episodes to earn rewards, including exclusive congratulatory videos from all three podcast hosts. The challenge celebrates October's festivities with safe thrills, playful storytelling, and engaging experiences. It launches on October 2nd and runs until October 31, 2025. Families and classrooms can download the challenge materials at https://jonincharacter.com/kooky-spooky-countdown/. How It Works The countdown challenges participants to listen to 13 curated playfully spooky episodes across all three podcasts, mark their progress on a printable tracker, and celebrate their accomplishments with an official certificate, award cards, exclusive host video messages, and a special crossover finale episode featuring Unspookable's Elise Parisian interview with New York Times bestselling author Adam Gidwitz. Why It Matters The Kooky Spooky Countdown Challenge brings the best in family-friendly podcasts together for a seasonal, audio-only experience. It also highlights the educational benefits of podcasts: improving listening skills, strengthening social-emotional growth, and inspiring curiosity about cultural heritage and folklore. About the Podcasts Grimm, Grimmer, Grimmest (Pinna) It's Grimm fairy tales like you've never heard before! On every episode of Pinna Original Grimm, Grimmer, Grimmest, bestselling author Adam Gidwitz retells a classic fairy tale to a group of inquisitive kids, who anticipate plot twists, crack jokes, and share their own perspectives on these very Grimm stories. Unspookable (Soundsington Media) Unspookable is a family-friendly podcast that explores the history, brain science, and real-world influences behind spooky stories, myths, and urban legends. Host Elise Parisian takes the scare out of spooky stories by digging into the real history behind them, the cool facts, and why people keep telling them. Dorktales Storytime Be the hero of your own story with Dorktales Storytime, a podcast for kids and their pop culture loving grownups. Hosts Jonathan Cormur and Mr. Reginald T. Hedgehog share reimagined fairytales and fables with SEL themes, stories of hidden heroes, and wildly imaginative folklore. Looking for merch from Unspookable and your favorite Soundsington Media shows? Head on over to our ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Dashery store ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠for t-shirts, hoodies, mugs, stickers, hats and more. ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠https://soundsington-media.dashery.com Advertise on Unspookable: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠advertising@airwavemedia.com

This episode of Across The Margin : The Podcast features an interview with singer-songwriter Jenna Nicholls. Hailing from the small town of Irwin, PA near Pittsburgh, after college Jenna set her sights east to test her wings as a songwriter and performer. Initially trying Boston, she ultimately gravitated to the creative hotbed of Manhattan's Lower East Side forging lasting friendships with other like-minded artists and musicians. Jenna made three albums on her own dime: Curled Up Toes in Red Mary Janes, The Blooming Hour, and Radio Parade. The albums revealed a restless muse and a theme that would be a constant for Nicholls: a love of vintage music – anything from classic music films like “Singin' in the Rain” to Bessie Smith. Her latest album — The Commuter — is the focus of this episode. The title of Jenna Nicholls' new album The Commuter is fitting in every sense — the story of a journey both musical and personal. The recording signals a departure and new beginnings: a new producer (multiple Grammy winner Larry Campbell), a new record label (Hudson Valley based Royal Potato Family), a lusher sound with inventive, fleshed-out arrangements, and an astoundingly wide-ranging collection of original songs. The constant: Jenna's unique ability to transport the listener to a different place and time with her writing and inspired singing. The Commuter displays Jenna's melodic and lyrical gifts in full flower. It's a cinematic trip that takes the listener to 1930's Parisian cafés, New Orleans juke joints, and beyond. It is an album that communicates the excitement of venturing forth and the reassurance of returning home to an abiding love. Learn all about it and more in this episode. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

Fluent Fiction - French: Autumn Surprises at Café Douceur: A Parisian Tale of Valor Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-10-21-22-34-02-fr Story Transcript:Fr: Le café "Douceur Matinale" était un petit coin de paradis niché au cœur de Paris, près du quartier animé du Marais.En: The café "Douceur Matinale" was a little corner of paradise nestled in the heart of Paris, near the lively district of the Marais.Fr: Par une fraîche matinée d'automne, le café était rempli de l'arôme enivrant du café fraîchement moulu.En: On a crisp autumn morning, the café was filled with the intoxicating aroma of freshly ground coffee.Fr: Les feuilles dorées tourbillonnaient doucement à l'extérieur alors que les Parisiens bavardaient sur le trottoir.En: Golden leaves swirled gently outside as the Parisians chatted on the sidewalk.Fr: Lucille, une barista au grand cœur, était derrière le comptoir, servant des expressos aux clients pressés.En: Lucille, a barista with a big heart, was behind the counter, serving espressos to hurried customers.Fr: Bien qu'un peu nerveuse par nature, elle adorait son travail.En: Although a bit nervous by nature, she loved her job.Fr: Ce matin, elle espérait une journée sans incident.En: This morning, she hoped for an uneventful day.Fr: Ses mains glissaient sur la machine à espresso avec grâce.En: Her hands moved over the espresso machine with grace.Fr: Mathieu, un étudiant en médecine, s'installa à sa table habituelle près de la fenêtre.En: Mathieu, a medical student, settled at his usual table near the window.Fr: Concentré sur ses notes pour un examen important, il était un visage familier pour Lucille.En: Focused on his notes for an important exam, he was a familiar face to Lucille.Fr: Tout semblait paisible jusqu'à ce qu'un frisson d'inquiétude parcoure le café.En: Everything seemed peaceful until a wave of concern swept through the café.Fr: Un client à l'arrière s'effondra brusquement, provoquant des éclats de cris et un léger chaos.En: A customer at the back suddenly collapsed, causing cries and a slight chaos.Fr: Lucille sentit la panique monter en elle, mais elle savait qu'elle devait agir rapidement.En: Lucille felt panic rising within her, but she knew she had to act quickly.Fr: Devait-elle appeler les secours ou essayer d'aider ce client elle-même?En: Should she call for help or try to assist this customer herself?Fr: Sans hésitation, Mathieu se leva.En: Without hesitation, Mathieu got up.Fr: Son intuition de futur médecin l'incitait à intervenir.En: His intuition as a future doctor urged him to intervene.Fr: "Je suis étudiant en médecine," déclara-t-il d'une voix calme mais ferme, rassurant les autres clients.En: "I am a medical student," he declared with a calm but firm voice, reassuring the other customers.Fr: Lucille, reconnaissante, saisit son téléphone pour appeler une ambulance, pendant que Mathieu s'agenouillait près du client évanoui, vérifiant sa respiration et son pouls.En: Lucille, grateful, grabbed her phone to call an ambulance while Mathieu knelt down next to the fainted customer, checking his breathing and pulse.Fr: Ensemble, Lucille et Mathieu stabilisèrent la situation.En: Together, Lucille and Mathieu stabilized the situation.Fr: Mathieu guidait sereinement les actions nécessaires, utilisant ses connaissances pour assurer la sécurité du client.En: Mathieu calmly guided the necessary actions, using his knowledge to ensure the customer's safety.Fr: Quelques longues minutes passèrent avant que les ambulanciers arrivent, mais grâce au duo, le client était hors de danger.En: A few long minutes passed before the paramedics arrived, but thanks to the duo, the customer was out of danger.Fr: Lorsque les secours prirent la relève, Lucille senti un soulagement inattendu.En: When the emergency services took over, Lucille felt an unexpected relief.Fr: Elle respira profondément, conscient d'avoir traversé une épreuve qui l'avait transformée.En: She breathed deeply, aware of having gone through an ordeal that had transformed her.Fr: Mathieu, observant l'évolution sous ses yeux, sentit un profond respect pour la tâche qui l'attendait dans sa carrière future.En: Mathieu, observing the development before his eyes, felt a deep respect for the task that awaited him in his future career.Fr: Lucille remercia Mathieu avec chaleur, consciente que sans lui, elle n'aurait pas su par où commencer.En: Lucille warmly thanked Mathieu, aware that without him, she wouldn't have known where to begin.Fr: Ils échangèrent leurs coordonnées, avec la promesse de se revoir bientôt pour un café en dehors du cadre stressant.En: They exchanged contact information, with the promise to meet again soon for a coffee outside the stressful setting.Fr: La situation avait changé le quotidien de Lucille.En: The situation had changed Lucille's daily life.Fr: Elle se découvrit plus forte, plus courageuse face à l'inattendu.En: She discovered herself to be stronger, more courageous in the face of the unexpected.Fr: Mathieu, lui, repartit de ce matin avec la conviction que sa profession serait riche en moments précieux de véritable aide.En: Mathieu, on the other hand, left that morning with the conviction that his profession would be rich with precious moments of true help.Fr: Ainsi, sous la douce lumière automnale de Paris, un nouveau chapitre de leur vie débuta, mêlant amitié et admiration dans la douce mélodie du Marais.En: Thus, under the soft autumn light of Paris, a new chapter in their lives began, blending friendship and admiration in the gentle melody of the Marais. Vocabulary Words:corner: le coinparadise: le paradisautumn: l'automnearoma: l'arômeleaves: les feuillesbarista: la baristacounter: le comptoiruneventful: sans incidentgrace: la grâceconcern: l'inquiétudechaos: le chaospanick: la paniqueintuition: l'intuitionbreathing: la respirationpulse: le poulsordeal: l'épreuverelief: le soulagementawareness: la consciencecourageous: courageuseunexpected: l'inattenduconviction: la convictionfuture: l'avenirchapter: le chapitrefriendship: l'amitiéadmiration: l'admirationsituation: la situationparamedic: les ambulanciersrescue services: les secoursstudent: l'étudiantmelody: la mélodie

IN this episode Dr's J and Santhosh explore some of the surprising influence and contributions France has made to the medical field. Along the way they cover the French revolution, the beginning of hospital medicine as a specialty, eliminating class barriers in medical practice, the shift away from humoral theory, the creation of health restaurants, the macabre catalyst that drove the new fields of study, empirical medicine and the stethoscope, origins of pathology and research departments, differential diagnosisFurther Readinghttps://www.sciencemuseum.org.uk/objects-and-stories/medicine/revolutionary-hospital-medicinehttps://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/12964569/https://www.jstor.org/stable/3655283https://pdxscholar.library.pdx.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1168&context=younghistorianshttps://www.mdpi.com/2409-9252/4/3/18https://hekint.org/2017/01/24/architecture-and-the-french-hospital/#:~:text=Parisian%20hospitals%2C%20like%20those%20in,mattresses%20placed%20in%20the%20corridors.Support Us spiritually, emotionally or financially here! or on ACAST+travelmedicinepodcast.comBlueSky/Mastodon/X: @doctorjcomedy @toshyfroTikotok: DrjtoksmedicineGmail: travelmedicinepodcast@gmail.comSpotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/28uQe3cYGrTLhP6X0zyEhTPatreon: https://www.patreon.com/travelmedicinepodcast Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

The second instalment of our mini-series with the world's biggest flute content creators rocks on with a Finnish superstar today. As he enters the final third of 1000 (!) Days of Practice, I chatted with Arttu Jauhiainen about his new chapter studying in Paris, the French Flute School, Social Media, Heavy Metal and Irish Coffee's. I hope yous enjoy it as much as I did,Grma xInline G Merch ⭐️www.Inlineg.myshopify.com Inline G Patreon⭐️www.patreon.com/TheInlineGFlutePodcastInline G will ALWAYS be free of charge, but signing up to the Patreon helps let this podcast reach new heights, if you can afford it. You'll also get to ask questions to upcoming guests as well as get early access to some episodes. Or if you'd rather not spend money, subscribing to my YouTube channel and following me on Facebook, Instagram and TikTok is a HUGE way to support the podcast. It'll cost you nothing, and it really makes a difference to the algorithm gods. So please interact however you can; like, comment, or subscribe, and help keep this podcast lit xAnd finally; use the code “INLINEG” online or in person at Flute Center for; 5% off accessories, 10% off all sheet music, free shipping on new instruments and free shipping to trial instruments (USA only.)Chapters: 00:00 - An Intro 04:27 - Arttu in Paris 14:58 - Social Media for The Modern Musician31:50 - Accepting Imperfections46:00 - Rampal's Bakery

Whiskeys: Sazerac Rye • Sazerac Rye 18 Year • Thomas H. Handy Sazerac Rye Tangents: Join us as we taste our way through all three of Buffalo Trace's Sazerac branded expressions and make one VERY expensive cocktail! • Sazerac QuickStory • Sazerac is also a coffee house and a company • Remember when Baby Saz won The Ocho? • The clove Necco wafer returns! • You can't predict what water will do • Apparently “cherry bubblegum” is a tasting note now • Baby Saz doot doot doot doot doot • We got a bunch of 5 year olds! • Scott gets a little weird • Stick that whiskey up your a$$! • Ed's spittin' facts • Scott threatens Ed with Malört • Best. Sazerac. Ever. • Some people be bougie • #cheapbastards • Scott's like Van Gogh • Ed used to be invited to the shore (sad trombone) • Which Sazerac is best? Support us: https://buymeacoffee.com/whiskeytangent Music Credits: Whiskey on the Mississippi, Parisian, French Cafe, Feelin' Good, Five Card Shuffle, and Onion Capers by Kevin MacLeod from https://incompetech.com/music/royalty-free/music.html

In this week's eerie episode of The Box of Oddities, Kat dives into the scandalous life of 17th-century Parisian fortune teller to the elite, La Voisin—witch, poisoner, and all-around dark delight. From secret rituals to deadly intrigues, La Voisin's tale is as twisted as the streets of old Paris themselves. Then, brace yourself as the story takes a chilling turn to Cheeseman Park, where secrets lurk beneath the earth… and corpses aren't just a metaphor. Jethro and Kat navigate the macabre mysteries, bizarre coincidences, and shocking revelations that make history stranger than fiction. Tune in if you dare—and maybe don't wander alone through the park tonight. LIVE SHOW TICKETS AND INFORMATION HERE! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This week on the show it's Cléophée Poli - aka Cléo - a Parisienne interior designer. She talks about typical Paris apartments and what she likes about them, how you can make your home more Parisian, and the small touches to improve the feeling of any home.   And of course, we talk about a lot more.    Follow her on Instagram here: https://www.instagram.com/cleointeriordesign/ Explore her website here: https://www.cleointeriordesign.com The music in this episode is from Pres Maxson.  *********** The Earful Tower exists thanks to support from its members. From $10 a month you can unlock almost endless extras including bonus podcast episodes, live video replays, special event invites, and our annually updated PDF guide to Paris.  Membership takes only a minute to set up on Patreon, or Substack. Thank you for keeping this channel independent.  For more from the Earful Tower, here are some handy links: Website  Weekly newsletter  Walking Tours

Burlesque icon Dita Von Teese joins Alan Carr to talk vintage holidays, Parisian life, a Caribbean romance and seduction secrets. Plus, nipple-clamps vs tassels, a swingers' cruise, and getting Alan a bit flustered… See Dita perform: https://dita.net/shows/ 00:00 Intro 00:45 Does Dita relax on holiday? 01:27 Ideas during dental work 02:00 Alan getting flustered over Dita 03:00 Goodwood revival and vintage clothes  04:00 Foxes and Alan's dogs 05:04 Dita's first holiday memory in Michigan Mackinac Island  06:40 Dita's holiday romance in the Caribbean  08:00 Dita's luggage - nipple clamps? Desire Cruise and swingers  11:08 Can Alan come? 12:00 DIta's Nocturnalle show and dates  15:00 Living in Paris and performing at Crazy Horse 15:45 Speaking French  17:01 Dita's Parisian hidden gem and having her phone stolen  18:45 Dita's favourite drink a simple martini or Mezcal 19:30 No to street food and the horse sashimi  21:00 Does Dita complain?  22:04 Iron fist, velvet glove. 23:00 The man who tried to lick Dita's shoes and Alan's old landlady 25:16 Holidaying with Christian Louboutin. 26:52 Robbie Williams date 28:45 Alan asks Dita for seduction tips  30:50 Dita's amazing skin and her habits 31:54 Nocturnalle at Edinburgh Playhouse and Alan's ghost story  34:10 Starting our descent - the quick fire round  36:00 BONUS CLIP - Beyonce and the Partition video #DitaVonTeese #AlanCarr #LifesABeach #Burlesque #ChristianLouboutin #TravelPodcast #ComedyPodcast #Paris #VintageStyle #Nocturnalle #Beyonce #SeductionTips #AlanCarrPodcast #Caribbean #TravelStories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Most of what we know about Helena Blavatsky's life seems improbable. In her 59 years on Earth, she was a young Russian aristocrat. A Parisian circus performer. A concert pianist in England. A clairvoyant. A medium. A telepath. An author. A missionary. A descendant of a Rosicrucian Freemason. And some would say: a chain-smoking degenerate liar…possibly even a serial killer. What's the truth? That's a great question. Keep up with Conspiracy Theories! YouTube: ⁠⁠@ConspiracyTheoriesPodcast⁠⁠ Instagram: ⁠⁠@theconspiracypod⁠⁠ TikTok: ⁠⁠@conspiracy.pod Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices