#tricheuse

[adoresia]

NON!!!!!! reviens à moi 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 mon coe cour coeuy ceur..? COEUR ♥️ mon coeur ne bat que pour toi 😔😔😔😔😔😔

this is a liv subpost everybody get her

[lilie-stuffs]

Plagiat.

Certain-es ont certainement vu passer le message posté concernant le plagiat donc j'ai été accusé sous ce compte pour les avatars de jeffrey dean morgan faits sur mon tumblr @boite-a-idees. Les avatars seront supprimés sous peu. Comme je n'ai rien à cacher, je vais c/c ma réponse à reyes. Et parce que je ne suis pas du genre à prendre les gens pour des cons et à être irrespectueuse. ----- Salut. Je rentre de chez moi après une bonne journée de merde et je vois que tu m'affiches sur tumblr. Alors en tout franchement, je suis navrée. Tout ce que je pourrais dire ne sera clairement pas suffisant pour apaiser ta colère et ton impression de plagiat et je n'ai vraiment pas la force psychologique pour ça. Tu vois ça comme du plagiat ? Ma foi, je vais supprimer mes avatars si ça peut te soulager. Mais, en toute franchise, je ne me crois même pas être abonnée à ton tumblr ou avoir vu tes avatars concernés par le passé. C'est possible, j'en sais rien. Donc ben écoute, navrée. Vraiment, j'ai pas la force psychologique pour me battre. J'vais aller gérer la crise d'angoisse que ça vient de me procurer et supprimer les avatars, poster un méa culpa si tu veux. Saches que je suis tout sauf une mauvaise personne ou une tricheuse ou quoi que ce soit. Je n'aime absolument pas tirer la couverture sur moi. Je n'ai absolument pas confiance en ce que je fais. Et le plagiat, c'est vraiment pas un truc que j'aime et que je tolère de base. Donc tout mes excuses pour ce que ça a pu engendrer chez toi. -----

Alors navrée, pour ce que ça a provoqué chez disaste(r)eyes @badandbreakfast-designs ... je ne sais pas, ou plus, si j'ai un jour vu les avatars concernés. C'est possible. En toute franchise je n'en sais rien. Je pense être cependant une personne suffisamment honnête et cool pour qu'on vienne me voir en mp m'afficher comme ça. La colère est certainement légitime, car toutes les émotions le sont. Mais il y a l'art et la manière de faire et dire les choses. Donc encore une fois, toutes mes excuses si c'est passé pour du plagiat. Ce n'était ni le cas, ni ma volonté. Mais croiront ce qui le veulent, ou pas. Sincèrement ... chacun est juge. Je pense cependant avoir assez d'imagination pour ne pas avoir à pomper sur les autres et ceux qui me connaissent savent que je n'aurais JAMAIS pu pomper et l'afficher fièrement en me disant "dans l'doute ça peut passer". C'est vraiment pas mon genre. Donc, encore une fois, je réitère mes excuses. Lilie.

[bouquinteim]

m: tricheuse -- traitor... trickster... oh! cheater.

[entomoblog]

Quand tricher rapporte - Des chercheur·euses découvrent une stratégie de survie unique pour un insecte néo-zélandais

See on Scoop.it - EntomoNews

Les scientifiques ont révélé la stratégie unique de « tricherie » utilisée par une espèce d'insecte originaire de Nouvelle-Zélande pour échapper à la prédation – en imitant une espèce connue pour sa haute toxicité.

  il y a un an

  "Dans le monde naturel, les espèces toxiques annoncent généralement leur nature nocive, souvent en affichant des couleurs vives et contrastées comme le noir, le blanc et le jaune, une caractéristique couramment observée chez les guêpes et les abeilles.

  Dans le même ordre d’idées, le plécoptère producteur de cyanure de Nouvelle-Zélande, Austroperla cyrene produit de fortes couleurs « d’avertissement » de noir, blanc et jaune, pour mettre en évidence sa menace pour les prédateurs potentiels.

  Dans une nouvelle étude publiée dans Molecular Ecology, des chercheur·euses du département de zoologie de l’Université d’Otago révèlent qu’une espèce non apparentée et non toxique triche en imitant l’apparence de cet insecte.

  L’auteur principal, le Dr Brodie Foster, dit qu’en ressemblant étroitement à une espèce vénéneuse, Zelandoperla fenestrata stonefly espère éviter d’être victime de prédateurs.

« Dans la nature, les oiseaux auront du mal à remarquer la différence entre les espèces vénéneuses et non vénéneuses, et éviteront donc probablement les deux. Pour un œil non averti, l’espèce vénéneuse et ses imitateurs sont presque impossibles à distinguer », dit-il.

  Les chercheur·euses ont utilisé des approches génomiques pour révéler une mutation génétique clé dans un gène de coloration qui distingue les tricheurs et les non-tricheurs. 

Cette variation génétique permet aux espèces tricheuses d’utiliser différentes stratégies dans différentes régions.

  Cependant, un co-auteur, le Dr Graham McCulloch, affirme que la stratégie, connue sous le nom de mimétisme batésien, ne réussit pas toujours. 

« Nos résultats indiquent qu’une stratégie de ‘tricherie’ ne paie pas dans les régions où l’espèce toxique est rare », dit-il.

  Un autre co-auteur, le professeur Jon Waters, ajoute que tricher peut être un jeu dangereux. 

« Si les tricheurs commencent à être plus nombreux que les espèces vénéneuses, les prédateurs s’en rendront compte très rapidement – c’est un peu un exercice d’équilibre », dit-il.

  L’équipe financée par Marsden évalue comment le changement environnemental entraîne des changements évolutifs rapides chez les espèces indigènes de Nouvelle-Zélande."

  Image : Coloration «d’avertissement» similaire de la perle (ou plécoptère) imitatrice non toxique Zelandoperla fenestrata (à gauche) et Austroperla cyrene productrice de cyanure (à droite). Crédit : Université d’Otago

  [Article édité, modifié et corrigé le 01/11/2024, ndé]

  ebony underpins Batesian mimicry in melanic stoneflies - Molecular Ecology https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/mec.17085

   Brodie J. Foster, Graham A. McCulloch, Yasmin Foster, Gracie C. Kroos, Tania M. King, Jonathan M. Waters

First published: 28 July 2023

[teumbeleur]

Lamiel danse lascivement, son jeans fendu de chaque côté de ses poches arrières, laissant transparaître la peau de ses fesses. Elle m'emportait partout avec elle et si ce n'était pas elle, c'était son frère.

J'ai 7 ans, je suis la fille de la prof préférée et tous les ados s'occupent de moi comme si je faisait partie de la bande.

Je bois des litres de Cécémel froid, que je vais chercher dans le frigo gigantesque dans lequel je manque à chaque fois de tomber, je décapsule et je lis des dizaines de BD, dont certaines ne sont clairement pas de mon âge.

Ça fait 2 ans que Kurt Cobain est mort, dans la salle commune, il s'epoumone avec Marilyn Manson. J'ai l'habitude de la musique à fond et des ados blonds qui dansent, moi, mon Cécémel et mes BDs.

Je fais la grimace lorsqu'une fille veut, par acquis de conscience, me faire écouter la bande son du Roi Lion.

Je suis le Mowgli des Ardennes, je vaque à toute les occupations possibles; je fais des dessins sur Paint, je monte sur le talus pour marcher le long des rails de train, je jette et tries des cailloux dans la rivière, je pique un bout de pain dans la cuisine, je fais des heures de la balançoire, je décapsule un Cécémel.

De temps en temps, Maman demande où je suis, sans trop se préoccuper, les ados me surveillent. Dans la camionnette qui nous amène les yeux bandés, dans un endroit inconnu dont il faut revenir avec une boussole avant la nuit, je suis leur petite tricheuse pour les guider sur le chemin du retour.

Ils m'emmènent partout, je suis leur mascotte, je suis leur doudou.

Lorsque Lamiel fini de danser elle se pose en gloussant sur les genoux du garçon qu'elle convoite. Elle sursaute inquiète; je suis dans la pièce, Cécémel et BD.

Puis elle glousse à nouveaux, moi je fais semblant de ne pas avoir remarqué les mains qui se glissent en dessous des poches de son jeans.

[vivid-vainity]

"LEARN THIS, EMBOUCHURE!!" He cackled loudly, and he charges at Astoria with the sword, but she's pushed out of the way. Instead, Marks sword lodges itself deep into Celines abdomen, if Mark was a normal person he'd be horrified. But he only grinned wider. "Oh even better, I've skewered the tricheuse! Do you remember our vows? Till death do us part~" He cooed mockingly, and went to shove the sword even deeper.

After resting for a bit, Astoria finds herself standing in front of her childhood home. It's clear that nobody has occupied the building for a while. The silver paint is peeling, revealing the boards beneath. The front porch has a hole in it, and weeds choke up the sides. The front door is already gone, so Astoria doesn't need to bother opening it. If she listened carefully, Astoria could have sworn that she heard phantom laughter bouncing off the halls, feet pounding against the floor, and prayers whispered from the dinner table. Astoria steps carefully inside, feeling the floorboards creak beneath her. The kitchen window is shattered, glass littering the floor near where the table stands. Of the three chairs that used to sit there, one lies broken and rotting on the floor and the other is missing, nowhere to be seen.

[restonscalmes]

Bientôt la fin des rois ! ouf....

[mapagesecrete]

"La nuit lui parut ne jamais devoir se terminer. Grillant cigarette sur cigarette, buvant scotch sur scotch, tentant vainement d’oublier dans la lecture d’un roman policier aussi bien Edith qu’Ida, il ne parvenait pas à s’évader de l’empire, à la fois tyrannique et éblouissant, qu’exerçaient sur lui les femmes de la famille Keeling… Il en arriva même à se demander si à elles deux, Ida et Edith, n’incarnaient pas « le type » exact de la compagne qui devait lui être destinée depuis toujours ? C’était cette créature – débordante de vitalité et de santé, éclatante de sensualité, instinctive, sûre de son triomphe perpétuel – qu’il lui fallait… En comparaison d’« elles », toutes les autres femmes paraissaient fades. La seule gêne venait de ce qu’Ida et Edith fussent mère et fille. C’était presque l’une de ces situations qui font de bons vaudevilles ou de mauvais drames. Mais se seraient-elles ressemblé à ce point s’il n’en avait pas été ainsi ? Et c’était peut-être cette prodigieuse ressemblance qui l’attirait le plus, qui le fascinait… Il devait être écrit quelque part, dans le livre, des grands secrets, que les Keeling ne viendraient sur terre que pour marquer à jamais la vie sentimentale d’un certain Geoffroy Duquesne." - La tricheuse, Guy Des Cars  https://booknode.com/la_tricheuse_079679

[onlydreamofmysoul]

Gingerbread (Ficmas #1)

Here we go!!! Ficmas day one! Super excited about this - I’ve never done ficmas before! As promised... a little sweet competition!

Characters and their world by @lumosinlove “Is everyone ready?” Celeste asked, standing around her kitchen, looking at the room nearly overflowing with hockey players and their loved ones. “Leo and I are the judges. The rules are simple, you all have to build a gingerbread house, everything you need is right in front of you. The best looking one wins, okay?” 

Remus grinned and nodded, nudging Sirius excitedly. They had everything - including the gingerbread premade by Celeste herself, so even if it looked like a disaster it was sure to taste amazing. Not that theirs would look anything less than fantastic.

On second thought, maybe a group of highly competitive athletes working against each other instead of with each other was a bad idea.

“Okay guys!” Leo called as he hopped up to sit on the counter and oversee the proceedings. “You have one hour. Your time starts.... Now!”

Remus grinned at Sirius, and then they set to work.

Logan knew watching Leo be all authoritative as a judge while he just had to watch would be hard. He didn’t know it would be torture. He was teamed with Adele and Katie, but Adele had to keep hitting his arm to get his attention.

“Logan,” She warned. “I want to win. Now are you gonna focus or not?”

Logan shook his head. Leo could wait. He had a competition to win. “Oui, sorry yes I’m good now.”

Adele nodded, apparently satisfied and Katie drew their attention back to her when she started bouncing in her seat. 

“Allez!” She said, her eyes wide, “Tremzy come on I wanna get to the part where I can eat it.”

Logan chuckled but obliged her, obediently holding pieces of gingerbread in place at the girls’ command as the icing dried.

“Okay, no pressure or anything, but your name’s Noelle so I’m expecting you to dominate this Christmas thing.” Thomas said, only partially jokingly as Noelle carefully piped the outline of their ‘windows’. 

“Um, excuse you Thomas Walker,” She replied, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Okay, but hear me out,” Thomas started as he picked up a piece of gingerbread, and started piping green spikes on it. “We should have pine trees in front of it.”

Noelle looked at him like he was losing his mind. “Babe, it’s a gingerbread house.” She said slowly as if it were a foreign concept.

“I know!” Thomas said, excitedly waving his hands and as he did, his pine tree went flying through the air and landed in Kasey’s hair. 

Kasey turned around very slowly and looked around menacingly, reaching up and pulling the biscuit out of his hair, leaving green splotches and crumbs in its wake.

“Who?” He ground out, and Thomas looked around with a shocked expression. “I have no idea! Noelle? Did you see anything?”

Noelle bit down her laugh and shook her head. “Non. Maybe it was one of the kids?” She said, looking over at Logan’s table to where Katie had more icing on her than the house. Kasey followed her and his vision softened. He nodded once and turned back around, Thomas made another tree and held it up to Noelle.

“They’ll never see it coming.” He said, finally finishing his statement. Noelle rolled her eyes, but in the end, there were a ton of palm trees in their ‘garden’. 

Finn was with Pascal and Marc, all of them particularly competitive and set on winning except there was one little problem… None of them had ever actually made a gingerbread house before.

“I think it goes like this?” Marc said, tilting his head as he stuck two pieces together, the icing going everywhere. He let go and they all held their breath while the biscuits stood for about ten seconds before collapsing so slowly it was actually a little sad. 

“I say we give up and just eat everything.” Finn proposed. Marc nodded, Dumo looked like he was going to put up a fight, but one glance at their gingerbread wreckage had his shoulders slumping. He reached out and broke off a bit of biscuit, popping it into his mouth with a grin.

“At least it tastes good?”

“But we didn’t make-” Marc began.

“Shh.” Finn cut him off with a playful wink. “At least it tastes good.”

Kasey’s hair was green and that had been a problem but then Alex promised he’d wash it out himself later that night and well, those words along with the little wink Natalie sent him had Kasey pretty okay with the whole situation. He sat there, smiling softly as he listened to Alex and Natalie chat away while Kasey did all the actual work, creating quite a nice gingerbread house, thank you very much.

Kasey grew up with his dad baking every Sunday and he’d always help. He wasn’t ashamed to say he was quite handy with a piping bag, and Alex was watching with wide eyes as Kasey piped ‘snow’ on the roof.

“How-” Alex stuttered, his eyes focused on Kasey’s hand.

Natalie bit down her smile. “He likes to keep people guessing.”

“I… I’m not complaining.”

“Like what you see O’Hara?” Kasey asked, unable to stop himself from teasing the other man. Alex was as prone to flushing a deep red as his brother, but Kasey found Alex looked a lot boyish when it happened to him.

“I definitely like what I’m seeing.” Alex replied, before cheekily dipping his finger in the icing and smirking at Kasey as he ate it. 

Natalie laughed at them both as she leaned in and kissed the sugar dusting Alex’s lips. Kasey raised an eyebrow, but kept looking at what he was doing, until Alex was standing next to him.

“Open up.” Alex prompted, holding his icing coated finger up to Kasey’s lips. Kasey made eye contact with Natalie for a split second, before doing as instructed, smiling into the kiss Alex gave him after.

“Chocolate was always my favourite.” Alex said with a sigh as he sat back down, Natalie placing her feet in his lap as she shamelessly ate the sweets they needed to decorate. Kasey glanced up to see Leo already looking at him.

“Redheads.” Leo mouthed with a shrug, “Gotta love em.”

Leo had to admit, sitting back and watching the world devolve into chaos was quite entertaining. He could still taste the gingerbread Finn had given him, their house looking more like it had been hit by a hurricane instead of like someone had actually tried to, you know, build it. Logan’s little team was doing a whole lot better, it was looking a little messy but Katie was doing a lot of the icing and well, there’s only so neat kids can be, try as they might. 

Leo’s heart melted as it always did when he would watch Logan with Dumo’s kids. He was just so good with them and they adored him in turn. One of the spare bedrooms in their apartment had been the designated spot for where they would keep presents until they were able to give them out, and Leo was fairly sure half of the room’s contents were just Logan’s presents for the little Dumais’.

“Are rookies even allowed to be judges?” Thomas queried as Leo passed and Leo had fun getting to act all haughty. Thomas looked particularly suspicious and Leo didn’t miss the correlation between the green icing he sported and the little patch of colour in Kasey’s hair. Leo filed that little bit of information away for a day he could really use it.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to get on a judge's bad side, Talkie?”

“Hey, you love me!” Thomas protested and Noelle shook her head. 

“No, but he loves me.” She said looking at Leo and winking. “You’ve got to stay on the good side of your future in-laws.”

Leo felt himself flush even as Logan twisted in his seat to look at them. “Tricheuse!” Logan cried. “Leo baby don’t listen to her, she just wants to win.” He stuck out his tongue at Noelle.

Leo abandoned Noelle and Thomas to crouch next to Logan, smirking. “Am I not marriage material Tremblay?”

Another time, earlier in their relationship maybe, Logan would have scrambled to reassure Leo, probably tripping over his own words so many times nothing actually coherent came out. Now though, Logan just smiled at him lazily.

“The most. I just mean she loves you either way, I think there’s literally nothing you could do that would make her not like you.”

Leo kissed him on the cheek before laughing as Katie wrapped her arms around him. 

“Salut Katie!” He said, standing up to throw her in the air, Katie shrieking with laughter before Leo set her back down on her chair. Leo stood up and began to move away, but not before he missed Katie unintentionally chirping Logan, “Leo throws me high.” She said in a serious tone as Leo snorted his laughter, shaking his head as he moved away.

Regulus hadn’t been sure about building a gingerbread house with Nado and Kuny - he didn't really know them and as a general rule, he didn’t like to spend too much time with people he didn’t know. But Dima got on with them really well and Dima was his friend so here Regulus was, building a gingerbread house in Pascal Dumais’ house. Two snakes in a lion's den.

“Are you sure that will hold?” Regulus found himself asking sceptically as Kuny attempted to build a several story building. Gingerbread house - more like gingerbread mansion if Kuny had his way.

Nado answered instead just nodding his head. “Of course.”

“Fair enough.” Regulus conceded, happy to sit back and watch the proceedings. He glanced around the room, still not quite sure where he fit into this chaotic little familial like team, but happy to be here all the same. More than happy to see nothing but pure joy on his brother’s face. Hope because maybe Regulus could find that kind of happiness here too.

“D’accord!” Celeste called, clapping her hands. “Okay everyone step away from your tables, your time is up!”

The team piled into the sitting room as Celeste and Leo judged all the gingerbread houses. Sirius and James sat on the floor, with Harry playing happily with them. Remus and Lily sat snugly on the couch above them, both nursing mugs of tea and heads bent together as they caught each other up on the events of the last couple of weeks. 

Finn and Logan were having an arm wrestling competition in the corner and most of the others piled around to watch them, all yelling for someone. Logan won, Finn hanging his head in shame and then they were both immediately challenged by the rest of the team, Logan battling (and losing quite dramatically) to Katie. 

Leo and Celeste came back into the room, looking quite smug as they held up a cardboard trophy.

“We have the winner,” Leo said to get everyone’s attention and the sudden hush that fell upon the room was quite comical. 

“Drumroll!” Thomas cried and the room was filled with the rapid thuds of everyone slapping their hands against the nearest object.

“And the winner is…” Celeste drew out, “Katie, Adele and Logan!”

The trio jumped up, hugging and high fiving. 

Logan stood up on a chair and pressed his hands against his chest in gratitude. 

“Thank you, thank you,” He joked, wiping away a fake tear. “We’ve been dreaming about this for, mon dieu, I don’t know how long.”

“You weren’t this dramatic when you won MVP!” Sirius called from the back of the room and Logan winked at him before continuing. “I think Adele had the idea that secured our win though, Adele?”

The girl dashed to the kitchen and came back with their little gingerbread house, the outside entirely lined by little gingerbread people. 

“We made the team!” Katie said, bouncing on her toes. There was a rush as everyone came over to have a look and before long, everyone was grabbing their figurine and eating them.

“Goodbye little Thomas.” Talkie said mournfully before biting its head off.

“Hey, maybe now I can give myself head.” Leo muttered to Finn, who promptly choked, spitting crumbs everywhere as he flushed a deep red.  

Remus leaned back into Sirius as they munched on their biscuits. 

“This is fun. We should do it again next year.”

Sirius wiped the crumbs from his lip and tightened his hold on Remus’ waist. “And the year after that, and they year after that, and the ye-”

Remus giggled, twisting in Sirius’ arms to shut him up by kissing him. “Yeah, baby. I’d like that.”

[problematicfavesareproblematic]

Never Be Sorry, Not For This (part 2)

NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW NSFW 

Ya boi is back and feeling extra spicy- SMUT AHOY  

You woke up thinking someone had broken into your room, hands blindly swinging at the dark shape that loomed over you

“It’s me!” Gene hissed, cool hands grabbing your wrists and gently dodging your flying fists. “Kicked your canteen over on accident, I didn’t mean to wake you mon cher….”

Heart still in your throat, you have to blink up at him a few more times before his words seem to make sense to your sleep addled brain.

“What time is it?” you ask, but before you can take your arm back to check your watch Gene’s slid in between the salvaged bLankets you’d piled for the both of you and taking your watch off of your wrist and tossing it by the foot of the mattress.

“Late. Early. try to go back to sleep, I’m sorry I woke you—”

“Don’t be….missed you.” Turning to face him you press a quick , chaste kiss to his lips. “Glad you’re here.”

You’d known and loved each other for nearly three years now, and he still got flustered whenever you told him simple and straightforward things like that- I’m glad you’re here, you make me so happy. I love you more than I can say, you now that don’t you Eugene….?

“guess what?” he asks softly in the darkness, and you grin.

“Hm?” you grumble as you refocus, nuzzling your cold nose into the warmth of his neck and kissing the soft skin apologetically when he hisses at the temperature.

“It’s your birthday.” 

Well, I wasn’t ….it was?

You roll onto your back, Gene’s warm body following yours as he gives you a small smile. 

The mattress you were sharing was old and smelled musty but after weeks of sleeping sitting up in the backs of cars it was practically heaven.

Anytime you got to be alone with Eugene Roe was practically heaven.

The only time that seemed to happen lately was during the coveted designated rest time, but you were far from complaining.

 Because, as amazing as sleeping with Gene is, nothing compares to sleeping beside Gene.

You’d never met someone so affectionate, and that affection did not lessen just because he had fallen asleep. He's always touching some part of you- an ankle hooked around yours, his sleep-slackened hand heavy on your thigh, steady breath raising chills across your chest as he burrows for you.

in Georgia, you’d lamented the overwhelming heat of his body on yours. Youd bitched and moaned that you were melting and he was just making it worse.

I’ve made you melt before, mon cher. I think you’re just too warm...

 But here in Europe- with it’s frigid days and even colder nights, you’d become the touchy one. He didn’t seem to mind the change.

 He brushes his nose against your temple as he kisses along your hairline, inhaling the smell of the shampoo Easy had been gifted upon their return from the frontlines the day before.

“Do you think I can get Luz to sing me ‘happy birthday’?” you tease, arching your back to stretch your sore muscles.

He seems to consider that for a moment. “Knowing George Luz, I'd say the bigger challenge will be getting him to stop singing to you.”

You nod in the pale light of the room, your warm chuckle turning into a sigh when he placed a sweet kiss on your lips. “You raise an excellent point, Doc. Knew you were more than just a pretty face…”

You feel him smile against your cheek, and when he pulls back enough to look at you he just looks so content that it takes your breath away. 

 You hold his face in your hands, unable to stop the amused smirk that crosses your face when he leans into your touch.

You both stay like that for a moment, enjoying e/o’s presence in comfortable silence until you see a thought form in his mind that suddenly has him eyeing you somewhat knowingly.

“Remember your last birthday?”

 Your grin is gone, mouth popping open surprise at the sharp turn his mood had taken.

 like you could forget anything about your last birthday.

 Well, more accurately- anything about your birthday celebration with Gene. 

Unwilling to let him see how instantaneously the mention of your night at the club had gotten you flustered, you pretend to think for a moment, bringing a hand up to tap at his chin.

“Hm, not sure? Remind me what we did?”

He kisses you with a roll of his eyes, mouth tasting of toothpaste and cigarettes.

I remember when I first kissed him. He tasted like whiskey-smoked sugar and i thought i was going to burst into flame.

“Red silk,” he murmurs. “Pecans? You, forgetting how to breathe and dance at the same time—?”

You scoff a laugh at that, bringing his mouth back to yours and shutting him up with another kiss.

He breaks the kiss with a soft curse, taking a deep, ragged breath when your hands find the hem of his shirt and push it up enough that you can touch his bare back. You gently scratch at him with your short nails, a greedy feeling of lust blossoming in your chest at the prospect of Gene being at your mercy.

Almost as if he could read your mind, he starts shaking his head as if he is trying to clear it.

With a bite at your bottom  lip Gene rolls atop you sto he can rest between your splayed thighs, kissing you twice more before purposefully rutting against you and letting you feel the firm press of his cock.

“Yeah,” you pant, nodding against his cheek as you desperately try to catch your breath. “I think it’s starting to ring a bell….”

“Well, if you’ll allow me to remind you….”

You’re nodding before he’s finished his teasing offer, thighs coming up to rest against his waist. “Si-to-ple (please).”

like a gunshot signalling the beginning of a race, your plea opens the floodgates and Gene is everywhere.

His french has become too fast and interspersed with (what you assumed were) regional words and phrases too specific for her to understand, but just from the tone you know he’s telling you about the dance you’d shared. 

It hadn’t been until the singer finished her set that the two of you had finally seemed to surface from whatever libidinous spell the night had put upon you, embarrassingly aroused and looking absolutely wrecked.

His hand had refused to part from the dip of your waist, wordlessly guiding the both of you towards the door and across the street to the motel you’d both individually gotten a room at.

the only time he’d stopped to speak was to ask you which way your room was, and you had decided to show rather than tell…

 His fingers were stoking the slick fire between your legs, having long ago made it his mission to learn your body’s secrets until he knew it nearly as well as his own.

Of course he’d blushed when you’d made it clear that you wanted to know him just as completely, but after you’d made it obvious just how badly you wanted to please him.

“More,” you whimper, cutting off another hushed devotion he had started mouthing against her collarbone. “Please, m'amour?”

You knew how distracted it made him when you would pepper in a french phrase here and there, but but when you did it in bed? He’d forget himself, something in the way your lips curled around the foreign sounds adding a more desperate fuel to whatever fire he has burning in him for you at the moment.

This time was no different.

“tricheuse (cheater),” he adminishes lightly, heel of his hand grinding against your clit. “What do you want, mon cher,  what can I give you?” 

Fuck, why did he have to talk like that? Simple questions should not sound so much like dirty talk but dear god it really does.

 “Tell me what you need,” he’d whispered that night, having helped free you from your dress and your slip gathered uselessly around your waist. “I’ll give you anything, i just need you to tell me…”

 “I want to feel you,” your words have him rutting against you like he’s nervous, and you hear him swear that you’re trying to kill him. “I want you to be inside me, God I want your cock so badly—”

His tongue in your mouth quiets you enough for him to process your request, and when you look up at him he shakes his head in  awestruck disbelief.

“Okay,” he eventually says, once he’s had a moment to stare down at your heaving chest and regain control. “Okay, sweetheart.”

 the first brush of him against your bare lips had you begging like a sex-deprived pervert, and you couldn’t stop babbling about how he already felt so good and made you feel so good you didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

he’d whined when you finally welcomed his soft intrusion, lips trembling with want as he licked the sheen of sweat from your skin.

“Don’t stop,” he’d gasped when you’d made purposeful eye contact with him and bore down on him, and the squeeze of your hands on his ass told him that you really meant what you were begging for. “I don’t know….you’re perfect. Just keep...YESSsssss…”

 You feel how close you are, Gene’s rhythmic rocking somehow finding stride in your embarrassingly wanton writhing, the air between you nearly as hot as it had been all those months ago.

“I’m close, i’m so close, my love….” your words are more air than voice, but you know he understands because he’s nodding as he bites at your nipple softly. “I want you to come, too. That’s what I want, Eugene- please let me feel you when you—”

“Don’t —” he groans, one of his hands flying up to cover your mouth. His stomach trembles against yours as he changes the tilt of your hips just so before starting a punishing pace that robs you of any ability to think coherently. “Don’t you dare say something like that- FUCK, especially when you’re looking a t me like that—and expect me not to fucking burst—” 

I love you I love you I need you too much. you’re so perfect, you ruin me.

Please don’t let me go. Please stay here with me.

 The building wave in your belly finally crests and you’re gone, a breathy wince twisting your face as the hand that had been on your mouth jumps down to your clit as your orgasm crashes you to and fro.

In a tremble of his own he quickly pulls out of your sex and spills himself onto your stomach. As he comes, his grip on you is almost painful, but some part of your blissed-out mind relishes the idea of finding bruises on your hips and thighs later.

“Yes,” you sigh, even though part of you wishes he’d forget about being responsible for one minute and come inside of you. “Oh, God yes, Gene…”

 You know why he doesn’t, you know why he really shouldn’t.

Last time, he had. 

He also almost had a panic attack at the idea of getting me pregnant the last time, so i guess this is a fair trade.

He’s still fighting to control his breathing when you take his face i your hands and iss him sweetly, speckling kisses across his face as you pull him to your chest and hold him there.

 “So good,” you’re cooing, drunk on endorphins and your lover. “Fuck, you’re too good at that…”

He barks a laugh, the sound warm and sleepy against your neck. 

You reach for one of your wet washcloths from your shower earlier and wipe his cum from your skin, rolling your eyes when he grumbles an apology.

“Maybe next time you can come in my mouth, if this embarrasses you so much.”

his entire body stiffens at that, and when you start to laugh he prods you gently in the rib.

“That’s it. I’m dead….I’ve died. You’ve killed me.”

You recover the quickest between the two of you, and you wrap your arms around him and trace patterns across his back until his breathing slows, the sweat on your skin cooling and leaving you feeling sated and dirty.

“Whoops.” you say, not even trying to sound sorry. “But….my point still stands.”

you feel him shake his head, and you let your eyes slide shut when he presses a wet hiss to your shoulder.

“Je suis amoureux de vous.” 

you nod,even though you know he can’t see it.

“I know, and I’m in love with you, too.”

“Happy birthday.” he grumbles, or at least that's what you think he’s said. 

You’d shared a bed with him enough by now to know that Eugene was going to be asleep within the next forty seconds, so you shifted slightly so you were more comfortable beneath him.

“Just wait til next month,” you say half to yourself, calculating the days between your birthday and his. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

But he’s already snoring softly, and he doesn’t hear your threat.

You duck a kiss to his temple. “I really do love you.”

 In his sleep, Gene mumbles your name, and you decide that maybe being soft for someone isn’t so bad after all.

(WOW HERE’S PART TWO. It’s pure filth. It’s gross. I need to go drink some water and think about what i’ve done)

tagging @georgeparisole , @itswormtrain , and  @a-big-ball-of-idk bc y’all commented and gave me the incentive to crank this out

[trashthemouth]

MUNDAY MUSIC MEME.

spell out your URL with song titles, and then tag ten(ish) people! TAGGED BY:  @lovehurried! TAGGING:  @personsuits​, @beastingtm​, @shiningbled, @ashenbled, @spiderfiles​, @glimoon​, @tricheuse​, @mtrock​, and you!

t  --  take on me  /  a-ha! r  --  richie tozier  /  ok otter! a  --  africa  /  toto! s  --  sweet child o’ mine  /  guns n’ roses! h  --  hungry like the wolf  /  duran duran! t  --  twin size mattress  /  the front bottoms! h  --  highway to hell  /  ac/dc! e  --  eddie my love  /  the chordettes! m  --  melancholy kaleidoscope  /  all time low! o  --  old me  /  5 seconds of summer! u  --  u can’t touch this  /  mc hammer! t  --  the boys of summer  /  the ataris! h  --  how you remind me  /  nickelback!

[destinymastered]

AT THE MOMENT, YOU WANT... ?

                                                                                   … TO UNDERSTAND .

you feel as if you cannot understand. your heart desires to do so, but everything seems useless, or maybe like you've exhausted every possible option. you've probably tried hard, looking low and high. opening every cabinet in the house, searching every drawer, looking under every bed. you might've ripped apart whole rooms looking, searching for exactly what you need. maybe you feel you've run out of places to look, things to find, people to ask. the windshield is frosted over, and you're sitting in the car, waiting for it to melt on a cold, winter morning. it feels as if it’ll never defrost, impossible to see through, no matter how much heat there is. be patient. keep searching. you'll understand eventually, i promise.

tagged by:   @glimoon  💜 tagging: @lovehurried ( for Cara and/or Helga and/or our favourite nanny ! ); @seizingdays ( for Stine and/or Conway and/or Benoit Blanc ) ; @mysteryprone ( for Sabrina or Carm ! )  ; @tricheuse​ & anyone else who might think this fun :D

[lovehurried]

EIGHT PEOPLE I’D LIKE TO GET TO KNOW BETTER!

TAGGED BY  •  @mysteryprone​  ♥ TAGGING  •  @tricheuse​, @breathingliife​, @wmnking​, @forgenotes​, @llwyndvs​, @bettersongs​, @stupiidgood​, @hllscorned​, and anyone else who hasn’t done this yet!

ONE  -  ( ALIAS / NAME )  •  Ellie is the nickname for my actual name that gets used more often than not, so I guess it kind of counts as both. TWO  -  ( BIRTHDAY )  •  December 6th! THREE  -  ( ZODIAC SIGN )  •  Sagittarius. FOUR  -  ( HEIGHT )  •  5′7.75″, because I’m just that awkward. FIVE  -  ( HOBBIES )  •  Writing.  Reading.  Mindlessly watching YouTube videos.  Going to the theatre (RIP).  Baking.  Playing guitar.  Listening to the same podcasts over and over again. SIX  -  ( FAVOURITE COLOUR )  •  Green! SEVEN  -  ( FAVOURITE BOOKS )  •  Christopher Isherwood’s Berlin Novels.  Roald Dahl’s Matilda.  Evelyn Waugh’s Brideshead Revisited.  Susanna Clarke’s Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. EIGHT -  ( LAST SONG LISTENED TO )  •  One Less Angel by Darius de Haas Shy Baldwin, because they released the album of original songs from Maisel S3 last month, and I’ve been listening to it... A lot. NINE  -  ( LAST FILM OR SHOW WATCHED )  •  Both rewatches: last film was Return of the Jedi, last TV show was Mindhunter S2. TEN  -  ( INSPIRATION FOR MUSE )  •  For canon muses, either just straight up loving them, or that + a sense of dissatisfaction with their canon storyline(s). For OCs, they’re either inspired by a specific canon I’d like to add a character to (see: Cabaret), or an original story of mine. Ongoing inspiration for every muse tends to come from being able to talk about them with my partners, though! ELEVEN  -  ( STORY BEHIND URL )  •  lovehurried is a reference to a line in the song Maybe This Time, from Cabaret (which a fair portion of the muses here come from, or are inspired by): ‘Maybe this time, for the first time, love won’t hurry away’.

[multaes-arc]

imma  have  to  update  my  muse  list  specifically  because  of  @tricheuse  . . . 

[alainlesourd-14]

FRANCINE VAN HOVE- LA TRICHEUSE

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