#PI ensembles

[lilias42]

16 : assister au bal

Guillaume et Aliénor dansent la volte ensemble au bal avant de profiter de leur soirée ensemble...

S'ils sont tous les deux allés à Garreg Mach, ce n'est sûrement pas leur bal de fin d'année. Ils sont allés à l'académie à quand ils étaient très jeunes, ils avaient quatorze ans (quinze à l'époque du bal), Guillaume parce qu'il était plus en sécurité là-bas en attendant qu'il soit assez âgé pour bouter son tuteur imposé par le roi Clovis le Sanglant et échapper aux assassins rêvant de ramener sa tête au tyran pour gagner ses faveurs (pour ceux qui ne le connaissent pas, tout est dans son nom, c'est le pire souverain qu'on pourrait imaginer qui aura bien mérité de se faire renverser par son fils et coupé la tête après un procès pour tout ses crimes, qui compte entre autre les tentatives d'élimination des Fraldarius afin de se débarrasser d'une famille rivale et de récupérer leurs terres fertiles, une ouverture sur la mer du côté de l'Alliance, et le lac miraculeux qui borde leur capitale [c'est pas le premier souverain à le faire mais, c'est le premier à autant l'assumer et il aurait réussi si les habitants d'Egua n'avait pas protégé Guillaume à la mort de ses parents]), puis accessoirement apprendre à connaitre sa nouvelle fiancée, et Aliénor devait déjà y aller assez tôt vu qu'elle est très douée mais, du côté de ses parents, c'était surtout pour qu'elle apprenne à connaitre son nouveau fiancé, ce qu'ils prennent tous les deux extrêmement mal.

En effet, leur mariage a été arrangé par ses parents pour Aliénor alors qu'elle avait bien d'autres ambitions, elle voulait devenir mage et érudite, et par Clovis pour Guillaume, qui pense tout de suite à un nouveau piège de sa part pour tenter de le tuer, et se méfie évidemment de tout ce qui vient de la part de l'assassin de ses parents et de toute sa famille. Sa première pensée quand il tente de s'imaginer sa fiancée, c'est une femme mûre qui le tuera à la première occasion. Autant vous dire que quand ils se rencontrent pour la première fois à Garreg Mach, ça se passe très mal et c'est peu de le dire, surtout qu'au départ, quand ils ne se connaissent pas, ils ont l'impression que leurs personnalités ne vont pas ensemble.

Guillaume est grognon, têtu comme une mule, ne fait confiance à personne, jure comme un charretier et envoie chier toute personne qu'il considère comme indigne de respect. Bref, il a tout pour plaire et n'a rien d'un noble à première vue (les lions du sud du Royaume adorent persiffler en disant que Nicola, son meilleur ami qu'il considère comme son frère vu qu'ils ont été élevés ensemble, fait plus noble que lui alors qu'il est roturier), même s'il est également quelqu'un de fiable, déterminé, ayant à coeur de suivre le devoir familiale et seigneurial sans être prétentieux à ce sujet comme un Lorenz, ça coule juste de source pour lui de servir son peuple, pas la peine de fanfaronner à ce sujet pour juste faire son boulot, qui protègera toujours les siens et les plus faibles, gentil quand il peut se le permettre, profite bien du fait de sa position pour appeler un pourri un pourri sans trop risquer de conséquence (ils veulent déjà tous sa peau de toute façon) et qui a généralement raison quand il traite quelqu'un de chien errant, il se trompe rarement en la matière.

De son côté, Aliénor a un caractère moins mauvais, même s'il est tout aussi entier : elle est très studieuse, assidue à ses études, rigoureuse, tout en étant très attaché à son honneur et sa réputation, et elle ne pardonne pas ceux qui ont bafoué le leur pour de mauvaises raisons (elle n'a par exemple aucune considération pour les Galatéa qui n'ont gagné leur noblesse dans le Royaume après avoir fui l'Alliance après que leur fondatrice ait assassiné sa propre soeur car elle était devenue comtesse à sa place, qu'en devenant les chiens des rois en faisant toutes les basses besognes pour eux alors, tout le monde dans le Royaume les méprise et il est déshonorant d'avoir quelques affaires que ce soit avec eux), même si contrairement à Guillaume, elle manifestera plus son mépris en refusant de parler à quelqu'un ainsi plutôt que de l'envoyer sur les roses à la première occasion en lui rappelant bien pourquoi tout le monde le méprise. Elle est cependant tout aussi attaché que lui à son devoir en tant que seigneuresse, très intelligente et perspicace, déterminée et protectrice envers les plus faibles tout en ayant un solide sens de la justice.

Le seul qu'elle envoie vraiment sur les roses, c'est Guillaume. Et idem pour lui, une des seuls personnes qu'il juge mal, c'est Aliénor.

Elle trouve qu'il n'a pas le comportement approprié pour un noble et trouve que ce n'est qu'un loup enragé mordant tout ce qui l'entoure et comme ils sont forcés de se fréquenter à cause de leurs fiançailles arrangées, il l'énerve encore plus et la seule liberté qu'elle a dans le fond, c'est de le rejeter en bloc. Elle aurait préféré que son fiancé ait un comportement plus respectable et honorable comme le héros d'un roman de chevalerie, elle ne veut pas épouser un loup enragé qui marche sur deux pattes (rappel, elle a quatorze ans, c'est normal qu'elle s'imagine le prince idéal). Elle le rejette tellement qu'au début, après qu'elle l'ait entendu chanter sans le voir, elle refuse de croire Nicola quand il lui dit que c'est Guillaume alors que ce serait la réponse la plus logique (elle l'a entendu alors qu'ils étaient tous les deux dans leur dortoir respectifs et ils sont voisins), et préfère croire que la voix d'or qu'elle a entendu appartient à un beau barde tout droit sorti d'une chanson de geste car, elle ne peut juste pas imaginer son fiancé qu'elle voie comme un loup enragé chanter aussi bien avec un texte aussi sensible.

Et Guillaume n'est pas mieux sur ce point, il la trouve ennuyeuse, trop enfoncé dans ses livres, manquant de jugement au sujet de leurs camarades du sud (même si Nicola, qui est entre les deux et arrive à avoir plus de recul sur la situation [car c'est pas lui qui va devoir se marier avec quelqu'un qu'il ne connait pas, et il est plus calme que Guillaume de manière général], lui rappelle bien qu'elle ne peut pas connaitre les jeux de pouvoir entre grands nobles et ne connait surement pas les vrais actes des seigneurs comme Rowe et consort en-dehors de leur réputation), et grinçante, tout en cherchant toujours le piège de sa présence, et de toute façon, il n'a pas envie de s'attacher à elle vu que c'est surement la créature de Clovis alors, hors de question de s'attacher ou pire, de tomber amoureux de son piège ! En plus, toutes les personnes proches de lui risquent de finir en dommage collatéral quand les chiens errants de Clovis viennent tenter de le tuer alors, moins les gens l'approchent, mieux ce sera pour eux. Limite, il la plaint plus qu'autre chose d'être sa fiancée, elle a maintenant une énorme cible peinte en gros et en rouge sur son front, encore plus quand ils seront mariés officiellement pour couper toute possibilité de survie à sa lignée.

Ils sont assez immatures l'un envers l'autre au départ et c'est normal, ils ont quatorze ans, c'est des ados qui devraient entrer en 3e et préparer le brevet des collèges qui se retrouvent dans une situation qu'ils n'ont pas choisi, qui ne sont clairement pas au moment de leur vie où ils voulaient penser au mariage (encore plus quand on leur dit qu'il faudra vite faire des gosses vu que bon, Guillaume est le dernier Fraldarius encore en vie et c'est rare qu'ils atteignent leur trente ans vu qu'ils se font tout le temps tuer en service, car les rois les utilisent comme bouclier en viande dès qu'ils peuvent alors, faut pas trainer hein. Avec un peu de chance, les gosses auront moins la vie chevillée au corps que leur père), avec un bagage très lourd de son côté pour Guillaume qui ne sait juste pas faire confiance aux gens, et Aliénor vient de voir son rêve de devenir une grande magicienne et une érudite partir en fumée pour juste devenir une épouse pour un grand noble, évidemment qu'ils vont se rejeter l'un l'autre en bloc, surtout que c'est un peu les seuls choses qu'ils peuvent faire pour garder un minimum la main sur leurs choix : on les oblige à se fiancer et donc à s'aimer, mais ils auront toujours le choix de se détester.

C'est vraiment pendant l'année qu'ils vont apprendre petit à petit à se connaitre qu'ils vont finir par s'apprécier mutuellement, en découvrant notamment les qualités de l'autre là où ils ne voyait que les défauts au début. Oui, Guillaume est un grognon qui mord tout le monde mais, il ne vise que des gens qui ont mérité ses critiques et dit surtout tout haut tout ce que ces personnes tentent de planquer sous le tapis pour se donner un air respectable, et il ne laissera jamais tomber personne et aidera toujours les gens en cas de besoin. D'accord, Aliénor a un peu trainer avec les seigneurs du sud en début d'année mais, une fois qu'elle sait ce qu'ils ont fait, qu'elle en est sûre et que tout est confirmé, elle est tout aussi intransigeante envers eux qu'elle ne l'était envers Guillaume au début, voir même plus vu qu'ils ne font pas leurs devoirs seigneuriaux, et sa grande intelligence lui permet de résoudre des problèmes complexes afin d'aider les autres aussi. De plus, leurs capacités et connaissances se complètes très bien, ils font vraiment une bonne équipe ensemble et développe un vrai respect mutuel l'un pour l'autre. Pas au point de danser au bal ensemble, encore moins une volte qui est quand même assez intime comme danse mais, ils arrivent à s'entendre.

A la fin de l'année, ils sont vraiment devenus amis et au moins alliés, avec les deux qui veulent s'entraider à atteindre leur objectif : récupérer son fief et le remettre à neuf en le tirant des griffes de Clovis au passage pour Guillaume, devenir une érudite afin de pouvoir aider le plus grand nombre pour Aliénor. ça tombe bien, les deux se peuvent se rejoindre. Il leur faudra beaucoup de temps pour leur amitié finisse par se transformer petit à petit en véritable amour et qu'ils deviennent un couple une fois adulte. Honnêtement, je ne pense pas qu'ils développent de sentiments l'un envers l'autre avant leur vingtaine. C'est un mariage blanc pendant des années (ils ne dorment même pas dans la même chambre pendant longtemps) et c'est petit à petit qu'ils finissent par tomber amoureux, ça prend du temps, petit pas par petit pas, surtout vu comment leur histoire a commencé mais, ils finiront par être un des couples les plus unis de Fodlan et qui feront de grandes choses ensemble (entre autre : sauver le petit prince Ludovic des griffes de son père, prendre soin de lui, puis l'aider à faire tomber Clovis de son trône pour chasser le tyran, puis ils seront toujours à ses côtés tout le long de son règne), tout en étant d'excellents parents pour leurs jumeaux Rodrigue et Alix, même si Guillaume mourra en protégeant Ludovic quand ils auront six ans et Aliénor devra se battre de toutes ses forces pour protéger ses fils et son fief des ambitieux pendant une régence qui confirmera et signera qu'elle est une grande femme d'Etat.

Mais pour l'instant, les deux sont bien vivants et ils profitent d'un bal ensemble maintenant que la paix est revenue dans le Royaume.

Petits points de conception habituel :

pour la danse de Guillaume et Aliénor, il s'agit de la volte. Comme lors de la cinématique du bal, les élèves dansent surtout la valse qui s'est surtout répandu à la fin du XVIIIe siècle après la Révolution (en France tout du moins), j'ai voulu leur faire faire une danse plus ancienne pour marquer la différence de génération, soit la volte qui était une danse très populaire au XVIe siècle (mon tableau de référence pour le placement des deux date d'ailleurs de la fin de ce siècle). Comme son nom l'indique, le cavalier fait virevolter sa cavalière dans les airs avec un porté où il la tient par la taille. J'avais vu des vidéos où les gens dansaient la valse en prenant la partenaire par la taille et où madame saute en prenant appui sur son épaule, mais avec les tableaux, on dirait qu'ils les soulèvent en les prenant par l'entrejambe en attrapant le corset de la femme pour la soulever sans trop qu'on voie ce que fait sa main gauche, ce qui ne collerait pas trop avec Aliénor qui ne porte pas de corset (car ces trucs sont l'enfer incarné qui vous empêche de bouger et de respirer [d'où le fait que ces dames gardaient des sels sur elles, c'était pas si rare qu'elles s'évanouissent pour cause de corset trop serré] alors, laisse tomber, elle n'en mettra jamais de sa vie, c'est une femme très active qui a besoin de bouger) et ça doit faire quand même assez mal d'être porté par là alors, j'ai fait à ma sauce avec Guillaume qui la porte en la prenant sous les jambes pendant qu'elle saute, et où ils se tiennent tous les deux la main sur sa hanche. Je voulais surtout qu'ils soient proches et amoureux ensemble, tout en montrant par leur manière de danser qu'ils sont à très à l'aise l'un avec l'autre (jamais au début de leur relation ou même à la fin de Garreg Mach ils n'auraient pu danser comme ça ensemble). Si ce n'est pas de la volte, il la fait au moins virevolter et ils s'amusent bien ensemble, c'est le principal !

Pour les costumes, je me suis basés sur cette photo du compte instagram du docteur_danic (il fait du super boulot et j'adore ses photos alors, foncer tout de suite voir ce qu'il fait !), toujours pour bien marqué la différence d'époque, et vu qu'Aliénor vient d'une famille très pratiquante, elle est elle-même très religieuse (même si pas question de gober ce que raconte la secte occidentale, elle a lu les Saintes Ecritures dans la traduction officielle de Garreg Mach et la version originale, et on débat souvent de différents points en les remettant en question dans sa famille, ils ont beaucoup de recul critique et refusent de brandir la religion qui dit en gros "tu ne tuera point et ne sera pas un monstre avec les autres" pour démolir la vie des autres avec un prétexte tout trouvé en bois) avec quand même des habitudes parfois un peu ancienne, elle a toujours couvert ses cheveux. Un des seuls qui pouvaient les voir détachés, c'était Guillaume (et l'inverse est vrai aussi étant donné qu'à leur époque, c'était encore assez mal vue d'apparaitre en public les cheveux détachés quand on les avait longs, autant pour les hommes que pour les femmes alors, Guillaume ne défaisait jamais sa tresse à part quand il était seul ou avec Aliénor). En plus, cette robe bleue est juste magnifique et avec les couches sur les manches, je trouvais que ça faisait vraiment robe de bal avec des motifs (voir leurs références sur ce billet).

Pour Guillaume, il porte une grande cape pour faire référence à Rodrigue. Il porte une cape car son père en avait toujours une bien chaude où il pouvait se réfugier avec son frère, Guillaume les prenant souvent à l'intérieur et quand ils étaient petits, quand ses fils étaient devant lui, il les couvrait avec les pans de sa cape pour les protéger du froid et qu'ils restent près de lui. La boucle de la référence est donc bouclé on va dire ^^ Pour ses motifs à lui, ils sont plus fantaisistes mais, c'est de l'eau avec son emblème vu que sa famille est extrêmement important, mais aussi l'emblème de Dominic pour rappeler la famille d'Aliénor. Elle n'a pas d'emblème elle-même mais, sa famille, les Dominic-Villeneuve, est une branche très mineure des Dominic, c'est une toute petite famille qui a sa ville et qui a dû trouver autre chose pour s'enrichir mais, leur blason représente toujours l'emblème de leur ancêtre. Aliénor a complètement épousé les intérêts des Fraldarius à ce moment-là mais, porter son emblème est une manière à lui pour dire qu'ils sont unis ensemble. La fleur entre chaque emblème sur l'ourlet du bas est inspiré du même pyxide que pour les fleurs d'Aliénor.

Enfin, la broche qu'ils portent est un bouclier coupé en deux et frappé de l'emblème des Fraldarius, afin de représenter qu'ils se complètent et protègent leur famille ensemble, surtout maintenant qu'ils ont leurs petits louveteaux pour qui ils feraient tout pour les protéger.

[locksnek]

BRO.

I mean, this does track.

[camisoledadparis]

saga: Soumission & Domination 396

Les " petits frères "-1

Jalil :

J'ai truqué l'enchère afin que DGSE soit le gagnant. Je veux quelqu'un en qui j'ai une totale confiance pour lui. Quelqu'un capable de gérer si le petit a un bad trip qui lui revient en pleine face. D'autant plus qu'inconsciemment, il pourrait chercher la domination qu'il a connu ces trois dernières années et que j'ai senti qu'il recherchait alors que nous faisions l'amour tous les deux. DGSE en est conscient lui aussi et accepte le deal. Comme quand je lui avais amené la première fois Ric, il me demande de rester avec eux. Ça faisait longtemps qu'on n'avait pas baisé un petit mec ensemble et il aimait bien le faire avec moi.

On débarque donc chez le recruteur de Jona et François. Cette fois pas de scénario interrogatoire ou même interpellation. On descend quand même dans son donjon personnel. DGSE à fait disparaitre les menottes et autres moyens de contention dans les caisses, ne laissant que le sling, le cheval d'arçon et bancs de muscu. Jalil tremble un peu malgré le chauffage à fond qui nous invite à nous déshabiller. Je suis derrière lui. Je l'entoure de mes bras alors que DGSE s'approche et l'embrasse. Il se calme, je sens ses muscles se détendre.

DGSE y va très progressivement. Il commence à le dénuder. Le sweet puis le t-shirt quittent mon petit libanais et là, blocage complet. Jalil s'effondre à nos pieds et pas pour nous faire une pipe mais en pleurs. DGSE s'écarte et moi, je m'accroupi pour lui montrer que je suis là avec lui. Il m'attrape aux épaules et s'accroche à moi. Ses pleurs me secouent. Sa tête sur mon épaule, il mouille mon polo. Entre deux hoquets il s'excuse de ne pouvoir assurer. Tout bas je le traite d'imbécile, qu'il ne me fait pas honte et que c'est d'abord lui qui est important, plus encore que le client. Il tourne alors la tête dans tous les sens mais DGSE nous a laissé seuls. Je mets une bonne demi-heure pour le calmer et le persuader de se rhabiller. Malgré son stress il voulait continuer. On remonte et nous retrouvons DGSE qui nous avait préparé un thé bien chaud. Jalil s'approche de lui la tête basse et s'excuse de n'avoir pu assurer. DGSE d'un doigt sous le menton relève sa tête et en le regardant dans les yeux lui dit que ce n'est pas grave. Il se penche et lui calque juste un petit bisou sur les lèvres. Quand nous rentrons, il s'estime lâche et peureux, il panique à l'idée que ses nouveaux amis apprennent son forfait. Je l'assure que ce ne sera pas le cas mais ce n'est que quand Enguerrand et Max l'entourent de leur amour qu'il en est enfin persuadé. Je les laisse ensemble.

Enguerrand me dira plus tard qu'ils avaient quand même du ramer ferme pour lui remonter le moral et son estime de lui. Le soir il veut me voir en particulier. Il s'en veut de m'avoir fait perdre de l'argent, il veut savoir si j'acceptais que tous les mois sur ce que lui donne son père, il m'en rembourse une partie. Je lui explique alors pourquoi j'avais choisi DGSE pour son essai d'escort. Qu'avec lui cet incident d'avait pas eu de conséquence et qu'il n'était donc pas question d'un " arrangement " de la sorte. Il me tombe dans les bras et me dit tout bas que pour moi c'est quand je veux qu'il m'offre son corps. Il me rappelle que c'avait été très bon quand nous avions fait l'amour tous les deux. C'était totalement différent d'avec Enguerrand, Max et Nathan, même si avec eux c'était géant aussi. Il commençait à les aimer plus que beaucoup. Avec moi c'était plus " mature " sans être coercitif. En fait je réunissais la domination dont il avait besoin avec l'attention et la douceur que lui apportent les 3 jeunes. Affectueusement je le traite de petit con et le renvoie à ses amis.

Max : Lui aussi a décroché un contrat top. C'est celui dont j'avais eu le plaisir de baiser le majordome. La veille de la prestation, le client m'appelle et me demande si je pouvais accompagner Max, il voulait remercier son valet et à combien j'émargerais le cas échéant. Je me fais un peu désirer et la proposition augmente. J'ai beau lui dire que je ne fais plus ce genre de prestation, il me rappelle qu'il est bon client et depuis longtemps. Il trouve les arguments suffisants pour me convaincre de me remettre personnellement au travail. Nous arrivons donc dans sa grande propriété et Max est impressionné par le service. Le majordome nous conduit à l'arrière de la grande maison et nous retrouvons notre hôte au bord de sa piscine. Je laisse Max avec lui dès que son valet s'est assuré qu'ils avaient tout ce qu'il fallait : boissons fraiches, kpotes, gel et poppers.

Je suis mon homme. Son appart est au-dessus des garages. Il n'est pas malheureux avec un logement d'une centaine de m². Un grand séjour avec cuisine américaine où il ne prépare que du café et une chambre de 30m² aussi bien équipé que celle de son maître. Lit à baldaquin en acier " équipé " : sling... une étagère à roulettes supporte les accessoires nécessaires quand on est souvent seul : godes, plugs, boules, gel et pot de graisse à fist... Je sens que je vais pouvoir m'amuser un peu.

Le mec n'a pas changé. Nu il est toujours aussi et autant épilé même si son employeur ne se sert plus de lui comme avant. Je le trouve un peu plus musclé et il me dit que c'est les passages répétés de mes escorts qui l'ont incité à travailler un peu sa musculature. Car en général, il est présent dans la chambre pour veiller à ce que son maitre et mon escort aient tout ce qu'il faut sous la main sans qu'ils n'aient besoin de demander. A sa demande, son patron a équipé une petite salle de muscu et lui aussi s'en sert un peu. Il s'arrête de discuter et s'approche. Il prend ma bite presque totalement bandée et s'agenouille pour me faire une fellation en mode gorge profonde. Il n'a rien oublié de la technique et s'enfile mes 20cm direct en fond de gorge au premier essai. Je le laisse gérer. Il me pompe grave, n'hésitant pas à rester les lèvres collées à mon pubis plus d'une minute à masser mon gland par de lentes déglutitions. Je le repousse plusieurs fois de peur de jouir trop vite tellement c'est bon. Une telle prestation ne m'est faite que par Jimmy.

Comme il s'est mis à 4 pattes devant moi et qu'il cambre ses reins façon " salope en manque ", je me penche et mes doigts suivent naturellement sa colonne vertébrale, son sacrum pour plonger entre ses fesses et y trouver une rosette palpitante. Deux doigts s'enfoncent sans résistance jusqu'à ce qu'il me les emprisonne d'une contraction destinée à me montrer que ce n'est pas un vagin que j'investi. Je le repousse et lui dis que je vais l'enculer avant de lui travailler sérieusement la rondelle. Il est OK avec le programme. Je le balance sur le sling et kpoté l'encule direct utilisant juste le gel de ma protection pour glisser tout au fond. Sous la poussée, le sling part en avant et le balancement me fait déculer juste ce qu'il faut pour bien sentir le retour. Je joue à ce petit jeu un moment avant de le faire descendre et de le sodomiser en levrette. Il couine sous mes assauts mais surtout me demande d'y aller plus fort. Ce que je ne manque pas de faire. Ma mains tombe sur un gode dans mes dimension. Sans cesser de lui labourer la rondelle, je graisse l'engin et sans le prévenir l'enfonce à côté de ma bite. Bien entrainé, il ne laisse échapper qu'un " arg " de surprise quand je rentre les deux queues, la mienne et celle en plastique. Mais ça passe, je m'en doutais vu les plus gros godes sur l'étagère qui ne doivent pas faire que de la figuration. Je cale le gode bien profond et coulisse entre lui et la moitié du boyau qui me reste.

Quand je me suis bien amusé, je décule et lui dis qu'on passe au travaille de sa rondelle. Retour sur le sling où je lui attache les chevilles et les mains aux suspentes. Sa rondelle s'est ourlée de ma sodomie élargie. J'enfile une paire de gant et les recouvre de graisse pour travailler son anneau. Alors que je poisse mes doigts dans son trou en tournant pour bien graisser la surface, je vois qu'il bande ferme, il prend vraiment du plaisir à ça. J'avise un gode gonflable. Je lui enfile et pompe. Ne connaissant pas ses capacités, je lui dis de me guider. Il m'arête après une bonne minute de pompage, me dit d'attendre et quand il se sent prêt, me dit de tirer dessus pour le retirer. J'y vais doucement car le diamètre a quand même doublé par rapport à son entrée. De son côté il pousse et quand il n'en reste plus que la moitié, il l'expulse tout seul. Sa rondelle est maintenant grande ouverte prête au fist. Je recouvre mes gants d'une nouvelle couche de graisse et j'y vais. Main gauche (la plus fine de mes deux mains) doigts réunis en fuseau, je l'enfile sans problème. Main droite pareil mais je sens une compression. Une fois le sphincter passé, je ferme le poing et pousse. Je tape sa prostate, sa bite tressaute de plaisir. Il me souffle d'y aller franchement. Je pousse et j'entre mon avant-bras au 4/5, jusqu'à la partie la plus gonflée qui bloque. Je dois lui écarter la rondelle à pas loin de 11cm de diamètre, belle perf !! Je ressors et je vais jouer de mes deux mains et avant- bras. Il va se mettre à juter des litres sur son ventre quand je lui aurai mis ma main droite et ma bite au centre et que je me serais mis à me branler.

Je tourne autour du sling et lui présente ma bite à sucer. Quelques minutes et je me retire vite pour ajouter mon jus.au sien.

Repos, je le détache et l'aide à se lever. Il me remercie d'avoir été aussi efficace, cela faisait longtemps qu'il n'avait pris un tel pied. Douches, on se rhabille et vu le temps que nous avons passé, nous retournons vers la maison. Nous retrouvons le client en maillot et Max qui, nu, nage lentement dans la piscine. Comme son valet, il me remercie, lui pour Max qui était un vrai bonheur à baiser. Max sort de l'eau et s'approche. Je le sèche pendant que le client rentre dans la maison. Alors qu'il se rhabille à son tour, je lui pose quelques questions. Il me dit que cela s'était très bien passé, l'homme avait pris beaucoup de précaution pour le pénétrer et du coup il se l'était pris d'une seule, lente, mais puissante poussée. Puis il l'avait baisé dans plusieurs positions, passant de l'une à l'autre sans sortir de son cul. Il avait trouvé que le mec était endurant pour son âge. Je lui dis de se taire, c'est pas un sujet sur lequel il peut discuter !!

Il convient que ç'avait été bon mais sans l'intensité qu'il trouve quand il fait l'amour avec ses trois amis et même avec Adam. Je lui confirme que c'est effectivement différent même si on trouve son plaisir quand même, il n'a pas le même goût qu'entre amours. Il est d'accord et ajoute que même avec Jalil qui est le dernier venu dans leur petit groupe d'intimes, c'est meilleur. Quand nous sommes sur le point de partir, le client remet une enveloppe à Max. Il l'ouvre quand nous sommes dans la voiture sur le chemin du retour. Il m'annonce le montant, à quelques billets près c'est le même montant que pour Enguerrand.

Quand il retrouve ses complices impatients, il la joue un peu blasé, comme quoi, oui c'est bon mais il s'excite plus avec eux. Ça ne dure pas car il se fait chahuter et mi- chatouilles / mi- bagarre, il se retrouve enseveli sous les corps de ses 3 amours.

Jardinier

~~

~~

[pompadourpink]

Literal French expressions

À deux - at two

À la + n. - in the style of

À la carte - at the menu

À la mode - in fashion

Amateur - lover

Après-ski - after skying

À propos - about

Armoire - wardrobe

Art nouveau - new art

Au naturel - plain

Au pair - at the peer

Auteur - author

Avant-garde - before guard

Bête noire - black beast

Blasé - jaded

Bon appétit - good appetite

Bon voyage - good journey

Boutique - shop

Buffet - credenza

Bureau - office

Canapé - couch

Carte blanche - white card

C'est la vie - that's life

Chauffeur - warmer (n.)

Chef - leader

Cliché - picture

Clique - gang

Connaisseur - "knower"

Coup d'état - blow of state

Coup de grâce - blow of mercy

Coup de foudre - blow of lightning

Couture - sewing (n.)

Cul-de-sac - ass of the bag

Début - beginning

Débutante - beginner

Déjà-vu - already seen

Dénouement - untying

Dossier - file

Double entendre - double hear

... du jour - of the day

Eau de toilette - washing water

Eau de vie - life water

Encore - again

Ennui - boredom

En route - in road

Ensemble - together

Entourage - people surrounding you

Entrepreneur - starter (n.)

Essai - attempt

Esprit de l'escalier - spirit of the stairs

Étiquette - label

Exposé - exposed

Façade - frontage

Faux pas - fake step

Femme fatale - deadly woman

Film noir - black movie

Fin de siècle - end of century

Flâneur - "stroller"

Femme - woman

Folie à deux - madness at two

Foyer - fireplace, home

Gamine - female kid (casual)

Gauche - left

Gendarme - person of weapons

Je ne sais quoi - I don't know what

Laissez-faire - let (someone) do (imperative)

Laissez-passer - let (someone) pass

L'appel du vide - the call of the void

Lingerie - underwear

Maître d' - master o'

Mardi gras - fat Tuesday

Matinée - morning

Ménage à trois - household at three

Mon/ma chéri-e - my cherished

Montage - mounting

Motif - pattern

Mural - on the wall (adj.)

Né-e - born

Négligé - neglected

Nom de plume - feather name

Parole - word

Petite - small (adj.)

Pied-à-terre - foot on land

Poilu - hairy

Pot pourri - rotten pot

Pourboire - for drink

Première - first

Prêt-à-manger - ready to eat

Protégé - protected

Renaissance - rebirth

Rendez-vous - appointment

Répertoire - directory

Résumé - summary

Risqué - risked

Robe - dress

Rouge - red

RSVP - answer please

Sans-culottes - without pantaloons

Savant - "knower" (n.)

Savoir-faire - know how to do (v.)

Savoir-vivre - know how to live

Séance - session

Soirée - evening

Souvenir - memory

Suite - sequel, development

Surveillance - careful watching

Tête-à-tête - head to head

Touché - touched

Tour - circuit

Trompe-l'oeil - cheats the eye

Venue - came

Vignette - sticker, label

Vis-à-vis - face to face

Voyeur - "seer"

Ballet vocabulary:

Allongé - laid down

Balancé - swinged

Balançoire - swing (n.)

Battu - battered

Brisé - broken

Chassé - chased

Chaînés - chained

Ciseaux - scissors

Coupé - cut

Dégagé - cleared

Développé - developed

Échappé - escaped

En cloche - in bell

En croix - in cross

Entrechat - between braid

En pointe - in tip

Failli - almost did

Fouetté - whipped

Glissade - sliding

Plié - bent

Jeté - thrown

Manège - carousel

Pas de bourrée - drunk step

Pas de chat - cat step

Pas de cheval - horse step

Pas de deux - step of two

Pas de valse - waltz step

Penché - leaned

Piqué - pricked

Port de bras - carry of arms

Relevé - lifted back up

Renversé - titled, bent backwards

Retiré - removed

Rond de jambe - leg circle

Temps de flèche - arrow time Tendu - stretched

Temps lié - linked time

Tombé - fallen

Tour en l'air - turn in the air

Kitchen vocabulary:

Amuse-bouche - mouth entertainer

Bain-Marie - Mary bath

Café au lait - milky coffee

Casserole - pot

Cordon bleu - blue ribbon

Crème brûlée - burnt cream

Crème de la crème - cream of the cream

Crème fraîche - fresh cream

Croissant - crescent

Éclair - lightning

Entrée - entrance

Filet mignon - cute net

Flambé - blazed

Foie gras - fat liver

Fondant - melting

Fondue - melted

Gourmet - foodie

Hors d'oeuvre - out of the work

Légume - vegetable

Liqueur - liquid

Mille-feuille - thousand leaf

Mousse - foam

Pâté - pasted

Roux - redhead(ed)

Sauté - jumped

Sautoir - "jumper"

Soufflé - blown

Velouté - velvety

Fanmail - masterlist (2016-) - archives - hire me - reviews (2020-) - Drive

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 22, 5 juin 1897, Paris. No. 19. — Toilette de visite. No. 20. — Toilette de jeune femme. Bibliothèque nationale de France

No. 19. — Toilette de visite en taffetas changeant indéplissable, chemisette de tulle noir indéplissable sur laquelle est posée une draperie de taffetas plissée sur les épaules; dans le bas corselet drapé arrêté par un chou sur le côté; manches avec petit ballon double dans le haut; col rabattu sous une ruche. Jupe toute plissée soleil. Chapeau rond en paille de riz blanche, orné devant par un groupe de roses, le mêmes fleurs retombent derrière en cache-peigne. Derrière hautes coques de ruban mélangées à une aigrette.

No. 19. — Visiting ensemble in non-wrinkle changing taffeta, shirt in non-wrinkle black tulle on which is placed a drapery of pleated taffeta on the shoulders; in the draped corselet bottom stopped by a cabbage on the side; sleeves with small double balloon at the top; collar turned down under a ruffle. Fully pleated sun skirt. Round hat in white rice straw, decorated on the front with a group of roses, the same flowers fall behind as a comb cover. Behind tall ribbon shells mixed with an egret.

Métrage: 20 mètres taffetas changeant.

—

No. 20. — Toilette de jeune femme en lainage bleu pervenche. Robe princesse à ouverture invisible. Corsage très collant, recouvert par un croisement de galon en laine et d'un ruban de satin bleu saphir noué sur un côté et retombent en un long pan; manches plate en satin bleu, recouvertes du haut par un jockey ondulé semblable au corsage, ruche autour du cou; jupe princesse, faisant suite au corsage, ouverte sur le côté sur un créneau de satin bleu saphir. Petite toque faite avec un froufroutage de tulle noir, avec chou de ruban bleu sur le côté, cachant le pied de deux plumes princesse de Galles, en aigrette.

No. 20. — Young woman's ensemble in periwinkle blue wool. Princess dress with invisible opening. Very tight bodice, covered by a crossing of wool braid and a sapphire blue satin ribbon tied on one side and falling in a long section; flat sleeves in blue satin, covered at the top by a wavy jockey similar to the bodice, ruffle around the neck; princess skirt, following the bodice, open on the side on a sapphire blue satin niche. Small hat made with a frill of black tulle, with a blue ribbon on the side, hiding the base of two Princess of Wales feathers, in an egret.

Métrage: 5 mètres 50 lainage très grande largeur.

[duckpetan]

A video of the two birds returning from playing in the river. Pi-tan and Lucy walk home together for about 200 meters.

Vidéo de deux oiseaux revenant de jouer dans la rivière Pi-tan et Lucy marchent ensemble jusqu'à chez eux sur environ 200 mètres.

Vídeo de dos pájaros que regresan de jugar en el río Pi-tan y Lucy caminan juntos a casa unos 200 metros.

Video hai chú chim trở về sau khi chơi đùa trên sông Pi-tan và Lucy cùng nhau đi bộ về nhà khoảng 200 mét.

[absolutebl]

Could you recommend me 1-2 good "standard" bl from each of the main bl producing countries (China, Japan, Taiwan, Thailand and South Korea)? I'm interested in the differences in tropes and execution between bl from different countries, especially Taiwan and Thailand. I'm looking for bl that's highly rated because it's well-executed but doesn't stray from the expected formula for its region.

Great BLs that ALSO rep for their country's style

I really took the "represent" part seriously. Here are my (end of 2024) quick pulls, explanations etc in the linked posts at the bottom.

Japan

Seven Days (or I Cannot Reach You)

Old Fashion Cupcake

For the darker stuff: Tokyo in April is

Korea

Semantic Error

To My Star

For their new style of darker stuff: The 8th Sense or Love for Love's Sake

Thailand

These were absolutely the hardest to pick, so I couldn't stick to 2. There's just so much Thai BL.

My School President - best high school rep (heritage = Love of Siam, Love Sick, the true Thai BL beginnings)

Bad Buddy - best uni BL rep (heritage = 2gether, SOTUS, the beginning of Thai BL global dominance) alternative = Oxygen which is possibly the most classic Thai uni BL we have ever gotten (but Bad Buddy is better acted)

We Are - best GMMTV ensemble piece, heritage is actually also Love Sick, but in 2024 everyone is gay.

Lovely Writer - best meta

My Ride - best pulp

The Sign - best wild what-the-actual-fuck? ride (KinnPorshe also an option)

For an example of the few times Thailand got elevated: I Feel You Linger in the Air or A Tale of Thousand Stars. But these are atypical, we only get a few of them a year from Thailand.

Taiwan

These were the easiest to pick.

We Best Love

Be Loved In House: I Do

But actually: History 4: Make Our Day's Count will tell you everything you ever needed to know about Taiwanese BL in one mess of a show. It's just... not that great.

China

Addicted

Word of Honor

The Philippines

Gameboys

My Day

Vietnam

Mr Cinderella

My Lascivious Boss

But by most standards neither of these are actually very good.

Here's a 2022 post where I talk about the differences between country's styles and approaches.

If you want representative samples from a historical perspective than I do that here:

In that post, you'll need to decide what kind of representation you want to consume though, because some are very old, and others newer, since this is set up to learn about the evolution of the genre.

I also wrote a whole series on the history of the genre along with my top 10 picks at the time (2022). It's old now but still holds up for what you want. I would say pick any two from the top ten of each list, but please understand my personal taste leans toward the lighter fluffier fare. (Which means my top ten from places like Japan is very skewed. Also several countries have added new top 10, for me personally, in 2023 & 2024).

Here's a fun one on the tropes people love in the different countries

And a personal favorite, very silly and not helpful at all.

(source)

[fratttymatty]

Bro, It's Haunted

(All characters are 18+)

It was the perfect night for a paranormal investigation. The kind of night when a full moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows on dilapidated buildings, and the air was thick with the smell of old dust and mystery. A group of nine friends—paranormal investigators and self-proclaimed nerds—had been itching for their latest adventure. They weren’t just any nerdy crew; they were a tight-knit group of gay, liberal, and openly eccentric thirty-year-olds. They had faced haunted dolls, cursed objects, and even poltergeists. But tonight’s location was a bit… different.

The Alpha Sigma Pi frat house, once the pride of their small college town, had been abandoned for years. No one had lived there in at least a decade, and rumors about the place circulated like wildfire. No one dared go near it anymore—except for the team, of course.

The nine of them gathered in the parking lot, adjusting their equipment and checking the cameras on their phones. There was Nate, the confident team leader with a deep love for horror movies and a perpetual dark hoodie; Jesse, the sarcastic and dry-witted one, constantly cracking jokes but deeply sentimental when it counted; Finn, the tech genius who could hack anything and had a fascination with all things supernatural; Liam, the sensitive one, who was always the first to believe in things like ghosts and spirits; Ollie, the curious but quiet skeptic who had a soft spot for astrology; and then there was the rest of the crew—Emory, Miles, Theo, and Xavier—each one an essential part of the quirky, nerdy ensemble.

They stood in front of the house, which loomed like a forgotten monument to a time long past. The windows were boarded up, the paint peeling, and a thick fog curled around the crumbling structure.

“Alright, so the legends say this place is haunted by the spirits of the worst kind of frat boys—those who never grew up and are stuck in the 'glory days' of their youth,” Finn said, adjusting the strap on his backpack, filled with ghost-hunting equipment.

“Yikes,” Liam muttered. “Not looking forward to meeting that kind of energy.”

"Eh, at least we won’t have to deal with them 'till we're dead and rotting," Ollie quipped, eyes scanning the dark silhouette of the house.

The team filed into the front door, which creaked open easily, as if welcoming them in. The inside of the house was just as abandoned as it looked on the outside—empty beer cans, broken furniture, and posters of former college athletes lined the walls. It smelled like stale alcohol and faded memories.

“This place is definitely haunted,” Jesse muttered under his breath, looking around. "Either that, or these are the vibes of my worst nightmare."

“Let’s get to work,” Nate said, trying to focus the team. “We’ll split up. Emory, you and I will check the basement. Theo, Jesse, check the upper floors. Finn, Liam, and Xavier, you’re with me on the ground level. Ollie, you’re on monitoring. Keep an eye on the cameras.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, and the investigation began. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They set up their cameras, EVP recorders, and motion sensors. Every now and then, a strange creak echoed through the house, but that was hardly enough to draw anyone’s attention—until it started happening.

The first person to notice was Theo. He stood frozen in the hallway, staring at an old photograph hanging crookedly on the wall.

“Uh, guys,” he said slowly, “this picture looks weird.”

The photograph was of a group of young men, all smiling proudly in front of the house. But as Theo looked closer, the faces seemed to shift, almost imperceptibly, until the men no longer looked like their college-aged selves.

"Did… did those guys just move?" Theo whispered, voice quivering slightly.

Finn rushed over, but by the time he reached the wall, the image was still and normal. Nothing had changed.

“Bro, you good?” Jesse asked, clearly trying to joke, but something in his tone felt off. “Just a picture. Maybe you’re seeing things.”

It wasn’t until the lights flickered that the first real sign something was wrong occurred. The house itself seemed to breathe, the walls exhaling in a slow, deliberate shudder.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit them all at once.

“I feel dizzy…” Liam said, his hand reaching to steady himself against a doorframe.

“I’m good,” Jesse muttered, “but I swear I’m too good.” He let out a low laugh, as though something was tickling his brain, but not quite reaching the punchline.

Then things got… stranger.

One by one, the group started to change. At first, it was subtle—nothing more than a shift in posture, or the way their voices sounded. But soon, their bodies began to morph, skin tightening, muscle mass increasing, faces becoming more angular and chiseled. Their clothes felt tighter, their jeans more fitted—though most of them couldn’t quite put their finger on why.

"Hey, bro, I feel kinda… strong all of a sudden," Miles said, flexing his bicep absentmindedly. “Like, I wanna, I dunno, lift something heavy. Bro things.”

“Bro?” Jesse blinked, his voice coming out in a deeper tone. His hand shot out to slap Miles on the back, but instead of the usual playful gesture, it was almost an aggressive, over-the-top bro hug. “Yeah, man! Let’s get that pump going.”

“I… I don’t know what’s going on…” Theo’s voice trailed off. He ran a hand through his hair—hair that was suddenly much thicker and styled differently. He felt the front of his shirt and blinked as if waking up from a strange dream. “What the hell? Why am I—?”

“It’s the house,” Nate said slowly, his own voice shifting into a more gravelly, assured tone. He glanced around at his friends, realizing, with growing panic, that they weren’t the same people they’d been an hour ago. “We’ve been taken.”

Finn turned around in disbelief, his fingers instinctively adjusting the collar of his polo. “Nah, man. I feel good. Like, really good. Like, I’m the king of this house or something.”

The transformations continued—tighter jeans, broader shoulders, more swagger in their steps. Their personalities were shifting too, as if something in the house was rewriting their identities. The sarcastic and clever remarks gave way to cruder jokes, and deep thoughts were replaced with loud cheers about football and frat parties.

By the time they had all fully transformed, they stood before one another—completely unrecognizable from who they’d once been. Their names had changed too, though they couldn't remember exactly how or when.

Nate was now "Chad," Jesse was “Brock,” Theo was “Kyle,” Finn became “Tyler,” Liam became “Brad,” Ollie was “Zach,” Miles was “Jake,” Emory was “Ryan,” and Xavier was “Max.” They looked at each other in confusion—before bursting into raucous laughter.

“Bro, this is sick!” Chad (formerly Nate) shouted. “I feel so… alive, you know? Like, we’re living in the moment, man!”

“I dunno about you guys, but I love being 21 again,” Brock (Jesse) chimed in, punching Kyle (Theo) on the shoulder with a laugh. “This is what life’s all about, man! Football, parties, and, like, grilling stuff, y’know?”

They all laughed again. They had no memory of their past selves—no interest in returning to who they once were. The house had changed them, and now they belonged here, in their new lives.

“Who needs ghosts?” Max (Xavier) added with a chuckle, slapping a high five with Zach (Ollie). “We’re the real menace now, bros.”

And so, the abandoned frat house stood—alive, buzzing with energy as its new inhabitants reveled in their transformation. The doors closed behind them with a final, definitive slam, and the house hummed as if content, its newest bro occupants already planning the next big party.

The Spellsisters were a tight-knit group of ten liberal, nerdy, 28-year-old paranormal investigators who prided themselves on their intellect, critical thinking, and love of all things supernatural. But when they stepped foot into the abandoned Delta Kappa Omega sorority house, they had no idea they were about to face something that would completely change them.

The team consisted of:

Cassidy – The level-headed leader, calm and collected, always keeping the group grounded.

Lana – The intuitive one, deeply attuned to spiritual energy and the vibes of any place.

Sierra – The techie, always with gadgets in hand, trying to find logical explanations for everything.

Ella – The free-spirited dreamer, often lost in mystical thoughts, fascinated by energy fields.

Bailey – The pragmatic skeptic, always on the lookout for rational explanations for the unexplained.

Tessa – The tarot card reader with a sharp wit and a skeptical edge, always questioning the unknown.

Zoey – The empathetic one, sensitive to emotional energies and trying to understand the deeper forces at play.

Emilia – The witch-in-training, passionate about crystals, herbs, and mystical rituals.

Riley – The scientist, logical to the core, though secretly intrigued by the supernatural.

Morgan – The dramatic one with an epic flair for storytelling and a surprisingly deep intuition.

They had come to investigate the Delta Kappa Omega house, a once-vibrant sorority that had long been abandoned and was rumored to be haunted by the spirits of its former sisters. Now, as the house lay in ruins, they were determined to uncover the truth.

"This place is... heavy," Cassidy said as the group stood before the house, the old, dilapidated structure looming before them. "It feels like it's holding onto something... dark."

"Yeah, dark energy," Sierra muttered, fiddling with a device meant to detect electromagnetic fields. "This place is off."

“I don’t like it,” Bailey added, scanning the area with a frown. “It’s like something’s watching us.”

“Well, we came here for answers, not to get freaked out,” Lana said, looking up at the house with determination. “Let’s do this.”

As they entered the house, the air felt charged with an unnatural energy. Dust swirled in the air like a ghostly mist, and remnants of the sorority’s past—old furniture, faded photographs, and posters of smiling young women—lined the walls, now decaying with age.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Zoey murmured as she stepped cautiously into the living room. “The vibes here are… weird.”

“Well, whatever it is, we need to figure it out,” Cassidy said firmly, taking charge. “Let’s split up, cover more ground. Stay in contact. If you sense anything… strange, let me know.”

The group split into smaller teams: Cassidy and Riley headed for the kitchen to investigate, while Zoey, Tessa, and Morgan set up their base in the living room. Lana, Sierra, and Emilia went to the attic, where the coldest, most oppressive energy seemed to gather.

It didn’t take long before something went terribly wrong.

The house began to hum, an eerie vibration that rattled the walls. A heavy, oppressive feeling filled the air, and a sudden dizziness struck all of them, as if the house itself were rearranging their minds.

“Something’s not right,” Cassidy said, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter to steady herself.

"I—I feel weird..." Bailey said, her voice trailing off. She glanced down at herself and froze, blinking rapidly. Her loose, comfortable jeans and hoodie had been replaced with a form-fitting, trendy crop top and high-waisted shorts. She was now, suddenly, perfectly toned—her stomach flat and abs defined. She ran her hands through her hair. "Wait, what the hell just happened?"

Cassidy looked at herself in the same reflection—her shirt was now tight, and her body had shifted in ways she couldn’t explain. Her once wild hair was now perfectly styled, and her makeup—subtle yet flawless—somehow appeared. “Is this… real?”

“What’s happening?” Riley asked, tugging at her jacket. It now clung to her body in a way that was completely foreign to her. Her voice, once confident and logical, now had a higher pitch, more energy, and a certain tone to it. She caught sight of her reflection in a broken mirror. Her jeans were now tight and trendy, her hair styled in soft waves. "I look… good."

Lana, standing near the window, twirled a lock of hair and glanced at herself in disbelief. Her long hair had become voluminous waves, framing her face in a way that made her appear effortlessly glamorous. Her baggy clothes were gone, replaced by tight pants and heels that somehow made sense. "Oh my god, I look amazing," she said, flashing a grin at the others.

"Okay, I’m freaking out," Sierra said, now feeling herself. Her hoodie was gone, replaced with a fitted jacket that hugged her body, accentuating her curves. Her hair was styled with perfect volume, and her usual intellectual focus had been replaced by something a little... lighter. “I look, like, totally different. And I kind of love it."

“I don’t know about you guys,” Zoey added, glancing down at her now-bodycon dress, “but, like, I’m feeling myself right now. Like, I could totally get used to this."

“What is going on with us?” Tessa asked, her voice oddly high-pitched and bubbly now. She fidgeted with her hair, which had grown shinier, thicker. "Like, I’m literally glowing right now. What happened to us?”

"I—I don’t even care," Bailey said with a shrug, her voice now more carefree than before. "I’m, like, so over the ghost stuff. I feel hot."

Cassidy, the former leader, stood still, her hands on her hips. Her old, rational thoughts slipped away, and a strange new energy surged inside her. “Honestly? I’m kind of digging this whole vibe. I feel like we should just go out and party. We can figure out the ghosts later.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Tessa laughed, flipping her hair dramatically. “Why deal with spooky stuff when we could be living our best life? I’m, like, ready for a night out.”

“I need, like, so many more outfits,” Zoey giggled, now twirling in the middle of the room. “I’m obsessed with how cute I look!”

Lana spun to face the group, her attitude completely transformed. “Let’s hit up a frat party. I need some attention, and I’m ready for it.”

“I’m like, so ready for this,” Sierra added with a wide, confident grin, brushing her hands through her hair. “We’re totally in charge now.”

Each of the Spellsisters had undergone a full transformation—not just physically, but mentally, as well. Gone were the curious, thoughtful, and empowered women who had walked into the house. In their place stood something else entirely: young, fashionable, superficial versions of themselves, obsessed with parties, boys, and their looks. They were no longer concerned with the supernatural or solving any paranormal mysteries.

Their names had changed along with everything else:

Cassidy became Carmen – the bubbly, fashion-obsessed, carefree girl who only cared about herself and looking perfect.

Bailey became Brianna – the ditzy, energetic girl who was all about fun, partying, and catching attention.

Zoey became Zara – a sparkling, happy-go-lucky girl obsessed with shopping, boys, and being the life of the party.

Tessa became Tiffany – the fun-loving, ditzy girl who lived for drama and self-love.

Lana became Kylie – the confident, flirtatious sorority girl who was always the center of attention.

Sierra became Sienna – the outgoing, trendy girl who always knew what was in style.

Ella became Ellie – the ditzy girl who cared only about getting Instagram selfies and looking cute.

Emilia became Mia – the fashionable, self-centered girl who only thought about herself and her future popularity.

Riley became Riley (yes, Riley kept her name, but now her personality was transformed into that of a carefree, boy-crazy party girl).

Morgan became Madison – the dramatic, always-the-center-of-attention girl who thrived on admiration.

The house had claimed them, and they no longer cared about ghosts, spirits, or mysteries. They were new people, and they were loving their new lives of shopping, partying, and social media fame.

“Ugh, I need a cocktail,” Kylie said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Let’s go hit up a party or something. Who even cares about ghosts anymore?”

And just like that, the Spellsisters were gone. In their place, new, ditzy, party-obsessed sorority girls had emerged. They were more than happy to leave the house’s haunted mysteries behind and step into their new lives.

After a strange, eerie night spent in the haunted Delta Kappa Omega house, the Spellsisters had transformed into something completely different. Gone were the intellectual, nerdy women who had entered the house. In their place were confident, party-obsessed, fashionable girls—completely unconcerned with the ghosts or the mysteries they came to uncover.

At the same time, across town, the former paranormal investigator guys—the Bro Hunters—had undergone a similar transformation in the Delta Kappa Omega’s brother house, Alpha Sigma Pi. Just as the Spellsisters had been turned into bubbly sorority girls, the guys had turned into frat boys—cocky, straight, and eager to hit the nearest party scene.

Cassidy, now Carmen, stood outside the Delta Kappa Omega house, looking up at the massive structure, her perfectly styled hair fluttering in the breeze. She twirled her keys in her hand, glancing down at her new, super-cute outfit—a tight crop top and high-waisted shorts that accentuated her toned body.

“God, I look so good right now,” she muttered to herself, checking her reflection in the window. “I’m literally going to make all the boys fall for me.”

“Carmen! You look like a snack,” Zoey—now Zara—called from across the street. She was leaning against a car, her eyes covered by oversized sunglasses despite the fact that it was nearing dusk. “Like, I swear, you’re hotter than anyone on Instagram.”

“Oh, stop,” Carmen giggled, flipping her hair. “But, like, you’re right.”

“You know what we need to do tonight?” Zara said, a mischievous grin crossing her face. “We need to party, girl. And I know just the place.”

Across the street, a group of frat boys were walking out of Alpha Sigma Pi’s mansion, all loud, cocky, and looking for their next big adventure. Among them were Jax, Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock—each of them now fully immersed in their frat boy personas, with names to match their new identities.

“Oh, hell yeah, tonight’s gonna be lit,” Jax—formerly Jake—said, his grin wide and confident as he checked out his reflection in the nearby window. His frat brothers—Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock—flanked him, all dressed in the tightest, most stylish clothes that fit the frat look perfectly.

“We’re gonna own this town,” Zane said, flexing his muscles and striking a pose. “The best party in town? It’s gonna be at our place.”

Brock slapped Zane on the back. “Dude, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get some attention tonight. Some real attention.”

“Well, we’re gonna get more than attention,” Max added, cracking his knuckles. “I’m thinking we’ll get ourselves some new girlfriends tonight.”

Just as the frat boys approached their cars, they saw a group of girls walking down the street toward them—Carmen, Zara, and the rest of the new “Spellsisters,” all of them laughing and chatting, their heels clicking against the pavement.

Brock’s eyes immediately locked onto Carmen. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “She’s fire.”

“Yo, check it out,” Zane said, pointing at Zara. “She looks like she’s ready for some fun.”

“Hell yeah,” Max said with a grin. “Looks like we’re not the only ones looking to have a good time tonight.”

“Yo, ladies!” Jax called out, flashing a confident smile. “You girls lookin’ to party or what?”

Carmen turned around at the sound of Jax’s voice, and her eyes immediately scanned the group of guys. She felt an overwhelming rush of energy, her pulse quickening. This was it—this was exactly the kind of attention she craved. “Uh, yeah, we’re looking for a good time,” she said, flipping her hair back with an exaggerated flourish. “What’s your deal?”

“Oh, we’re definitely looking for some fun,” Jax replied, stepping closer. His new, cocky swagger was undeniable, and Carmen could feel the electricity between them. “I’m Jax, and this is Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock. We were just about to hit up a party at the frat house. You down?”

“We’re totally down,” Zara chimed in, flashing a sweet smile that had a hint of mischief. “I’m Zara, and this is Carmen, Ella, Tessa, and Sienna.” She winked at Jax. “We know how to party, trust me.”

“Well, that’s what I like to hear,” Jax grinned, his eyes scanning her body. “You sure you can handle us?”

“I can handle anything,” Zara replied, crossing her arms confidently. “And you guys look like you could use some serious attention.”

Brock stepped forward, grinning. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to make this night unforgettable. Let’s make sure you get the full frat boy experience.”

The Spellsisters and the frat boys laughed together, the instant chemistry between them undeniable. With every word exchanged, the former nerds and introverts grew more confident, their carefree personalities fully taking over.

As the night went on, they moved into the frat house, music blasting and the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air. Carmen was inseparable from Jax, Zara kept flirting with Max, and Sienna couldn’t seem to get enough of Brock. Tessa and Derrick were in the corner, gossiping and laughing about their latest party experiences, while Ella and Zane were dancing together, their chemistry undeniable.

“I’ve never had more fun in my life,” Carmen whispered to Jax as they sipped drinks and stood near the dance floor. “Like, why would I ever go back to my old life?”

“You don’t need to,” Jax replied, his arm casually draped around her waist. “We’ve got everything we need right here. Who needs the paranormal when we can have real fun?”

“Exactly,” Carmen said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Who needs the ghosts?”

And in that moment, it became clear—both the Spellsisters and the frat boys had left behind their old, nerdy selves. They were no longer investigators or skeptics; they were now young, fun, and living for the moment. The ghosts that once haunted the Delta Kappa Omega house? Well, they were just part of the past. What mattered now was the party, the attention, and the fun of their new, carefree lives.

And, of course, there was a whole lot of dating going on—because in this new world, the only thing they cared about was each other, the fun they were having, and their new, exciting, drama-filled lives.

(From row 4, 2, 1 left to right, Brock, Zach, Ryan, Tyler, Max, Jake, Kyle, Chad, Brad.)

(From row 4, 3, 2, 1 left to right, Sienna, Zara, Tiffany, Brianna, Ellie, Kylie, Riley, Madison, Carmen, Mia.)

[chasedeys]

HI OKAY so like. in honor of these boyfriends sticking together by the grace of god and just sheer fucking stubbornness and taking matters into their own hands (sooooo sexy and also incredibly leaning to the power-of-friendship ass of them btw) and also because i feel sooo shitty for disappearing all of the sudden and ignoring a whole bunch of you </3 (thank you truly for all the sweet messages in my inbox asking me where and how ive been god yall are so sweet) and also it's such a fucking waste of 7k word vomit if i do end up not finishing this thing and i really do want to finish this but im lacking creative juices and honestly just shit time management but anyways. i present to you the mess of joeteemarr fic in its barely finished glory:

(DOOOO PRAYYY THAT I FINISH ITTTTT (i am on my knees) in spite of all the spoilers (?) you'll read through so it'd be like why the hell would you read this again kind of deal but well ahahahah just let me post this and look away okay 😭♥️)

all on his mouth like liquor —joeteemarr

intro — you came, you saw, you conquered // i couldn’t take my eyes off him, i think i heard a spirit call my name (banana yoshimoto, kitchen)

They’re both still in their leather ensemble—’so, did you coordinate the outfits, or?’ ‘ja’marr copied me.’ ‘excuse me? bitch, i’ll kill you.’—like they zoomed their way to Tee’s place immediately right after the game, after stopping by Judith’s for their usual order of burgers and fries.

Tee pokes at his own order of bacon burger, double helping of cheddar cheese and extra garlic, a wobbly little smile poking through when he spots the lovingly sharpied good game 5! the extra pies are for you!!!! don’t let uno eat them!!!!!!!!! on the crinkly wrapping paper. Judith, Cincinnati native, 57 years old and never takes money from Tee’s mother. Thinks Ja’Marr is the funniest man-child on earth and Joe the sweetest.

Ja’Marr has his jacket off now, tank top stretched tight over his shoulders as he slumps over his burgers snarling at Joe to stop stealing his fries. Tee carefully turns his gaze away from dark of his tattoos, the curve of his shoulders, the flex of his biceps when he tries to smack away Joe’s hand right over his burger.

But the thing is, if he looks away, he’s looking towards Joe—Joe, who’s leather jacket with nothing underneath is zipped down to his navel for some godforsaken reason, miles of pale skin and abs and golden hair and pink nipples flashing everytime he twists his torso to try and take Ja’Marr’s entire dinner or avoid his retaliations. Tee has to take away Ja’Marr’s plastic fork before he stabs Joe with it.

(They didn’t coordinate the outfits, by the way. They just ended up wearing something similar again with their weird otherworldly connection that Tee still tries to wrap his head around even now.)

—----------ja’marrs drops. sensitive,dfksdfkapoeskfo

Ja’Marr skirts his eyes away, mouth curling down, “I don’t wanna talk about it. I’ll deal with it Monday.”

Tee breathes out, extends his knee and presses his socked toes to the younger man’s calves. Ja’Marr twitches his leg against his feet, flicking his eyes at him and shooting him a small smile. He’ll be alright.

“No,” Ja’Marr says evenly, staring right at him even as he slams a hand at Joe’s over his plate, “but you were really fucking sexy.”

Tee startles, several clumps of mashed up potato slipping out of his mouth in surprise—real sexy, there. Ja’Marr really has no filter sometimes, calling any person he finds attractive to their faces with zero shame even in front of his boyfriend of however many years. Joe, ever so possessive, rarely even gets bricked up over it, from sheer assurance of his place in Ja’Marr’s heart. Hard not to be, really, with how steadfast and loud Ja’Marr is with his devotion to him. Tee has been called straight up ‘hot as hell’ by the other man for the past years that they’ve known each other and he still gets flustered over it, mostly because. Well. Whatever.

Joe turns his gaze to him as well, pausing his one-man crusade of pilfering his boyfriend’s fries. Tee slows his bites as he stares back, feeling weirdly caught like a prey in a predator’s gaze, a gazelle looking through the tan of the savanna landscape trying to find the glint of a lion’s eyes lurking in between the blades of grass. Joe’s piercing blues flick between his eyes, then slides down, slow, deliberate, purposeful, over the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the turn of his chin, the hinge of his jaw still clenched from chewing the meat they bought for him, his—neck exposed by the stretched cotton of his ratty t-shirt, the tangle of his beard, the slight of his Adam’s apple, the nearly healed scar on the left side of his jugular from last week’s razor incident, even the loose hang of his faded clemson t-shirt over his shoulders, the dip of it showing off the skin over his collarbones, not too much to show his pecs, but the sheer force of the older man’s leer makes him—makes him push his fucking tits out like he can’t fucking help himself; shoulders, drawing back; spine, straightening; nipples, pebbling, fucking tingling; goosebumps and hair rising over his arms; toes, curling in—he knows each and every part of his body Joe looks over because the man’s so fucking methodical with it, everything else below his chest hidden beneath the table thank fuck, he thinks, of sorts, maybe, a blessing, a curse, who knows, he’s still trying to chew on his fucking bite of bacon burger the fuck.

Tee chokes on his late swallow—and drinks the puply orange Ja’Marr offers him with an obvious smirk holy shit what the ever living fuck. 

Joe goes back to eating his burger like he didn’t just. Undress Tee with his fucking eyes. What the fuck. What the actual fuck was that. Holy shit did he just experience a junior high schooler’s fantastical imaginary eighth grade period axe body spray doped up version of sex daydream or is he just. Insane. Was the burger spiked. What the fuck was that. 

Tee feels his lips twitch. Wow. They’re really—unsubtle. But, are they, really?

“

—And Ja’Marr growls. Tee startles, laughing up at him, but it’s all cut off short because, wait, holy shit—-

He’s got a lapful of Ja’Marr Chase, situating his ass snugly all over Tee’s thighs with his own folded on either side of his hips, arms up so he can press his palms on his cheeks, wrapping all the way to the back of his skull because they’re so big, and kiss him.

“Jesus Christ, Ja’Marr,” he hears through muddied ears. Joe, he knows his voice, always, but—everything is—muffled, dark, consumed to a single person over him 

He flutters his eyes open and gasps out trying to push air into his lungs and Ja’Marr’s face is right there in front of him—eyes piercing into his own as he purposefully bumps his nose to Tee’s and breathes into Tee’s gaping open mouth.

Fucking hell.

“Ja’Marr,” he breathes out, panic mounting—and: dick hardening in his sweatpants because Ja’Marr fucking Chase is all over his lap grinding down, arms around his shoulders, pretty face right up to his with deep brown eyes staring him down intently—hands trembling, acutely aware that his boyfriend of six fucking years is staring right at them from across the room, still stealing said boyfriend’s fries. That fucking heifer, jesus, his diet always goes out the window in the 24-hour window of post-game leftover adrenaline rush.

Ja’Marr—his best friend, the prettiest motherfucker he’s ever had the pleasure of—doesn’t even do him the honor of replying, lips stretching wide into a pleased smile and keeps bumping his nose to Tee’s over and over like it’s a little game to him. It’s ridiculously cute—the minute touches, the way Tee has to go cross-eyed to see it, the weight of him all over, the heady scent of warm wood basking him, it calms him down, lowers his heart rate, settles his breathing, makes his eyelids flutter, trying to keep himself from closing the distance and kiss the man again, seems terribly unfair to just—only have a single chance in his life to kiss Ja’Marr Chase once when he’s still inches away with his body language so open and willing. Joe, to the side, still fucking eating, not even acting offended even the slightest past the minute exasperated jesus christ, ja’marr, shoots him a weird dorky thumbs-up. The hell.

“You’re—“ Tee chokes out finally, acutely aware of every point of his palm pressed against the cotton wrapped around his best friend’s waist. Acutely aware of how his fingers are twitching, wanting, aching—to grip tighter, to drag downwards and under the hemline and then roughly up the warmth of skin, scrub at the expanse of it available and feel it shiver against the skin of his own palm. The only reason he doesn’t is because every joint, every muscle, every tendon in his body is locked up in, what, fear? Sheer desperate want? A man collapsed inches away from an oasis appearing out of nowhere  in a once barren desert, heat pouring over his body and making everything wobbly and blurry—his vision actually going a bit blurry because—

Fuck it all to hell, if he cries in Ja’Marr Chase’s face  just because he kissed him he’s killing himself and taking everyone with him.

Ja’Marr coos, pretty face closing in again and Tee automatically flutters his eyes shut just for the other man to press his lips softly against the thin skin of his left eyelid, keep dragging them along his lashes, letting his liquid tears seep into the crevice of his lips and pool around the corner of his lips, over the bridge of his nose, again to his right eye, and down to the highest point of his cheek—just to press harder and leave a wet imprint from his own tears.

God, Ja’Marr fucking Chase.

“You really gotta say something,” Tee squeezes out harshly, eyes squeezed shut tight and trying to breathe through his nose.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” is what Ja’Marr says, thumb brushing away the wet spots on his cheeks. Which. Well. Maybe Tee should’ve just told him to shut the fuck up and get off of him before he does something he’d regret, like—like kiss him again. And again. And again. Again, again, again, again, over, and over, and over, and over until he drops dead because he’d never grow tired of it, he doesn’t think.

“I see,” Tee says, not really seeing. He knows he’s ’fucking gorgeous’ but come one now, really.

Ja’Marr grins bright right up against his face, of course knowing what Tee’s not saying.

Joe leans down, nudging his boyfriend to the side, hunching over the two, tucks a palm to the side of Tee’s neck, all nine inches of it spanning across his skin like a hot brand, and kisses him too.

Tee breathes into his mouth, doesn’t even know how to kiss back, flabbergasted as he is, weighted down by his best friend on his lap, a hand on his neck that might as well feel like a noose, buzzing in his ears, a match of want being struck in him and he doesn’t know if it’s by him or if it’s actually the people he wants.

Joe hums against his mouth, lips turning down, “you’re not kissing me back,”

He’s actually fucking pouting against Tee’s mouth, Tee realizes. He doesn’t even want to let go of the kiss to speak, doesn't want to pout away from Tee’s lips. Oh god. What is Tee doing. 

Tee surges up, arms clenching around Ja’Marr’s waist, teeth tugging at Joe’s bottom lip, and kisses his quarterback right this time, feels him stretch his lips to a smile even as he licks into Tee’s mouth and sighs into the kiss. He’s relaxing his shoulders, drooping down, evening out—he was tense, he was worried, neck veins slightly popping, Tee realizes. This was important to him. Tee kissing him back—was important. To him. 

Oh.

Tee sighs into the kiss, too, relaxes and licks into the space he’s being granted access into, for the first time ever.

Ja’Marr gets handsy, apparently pleased as a peach at the grip Tee has on his waist. He presses his knees harder to the sides of Tee’s hips and grinds his hips down on his lap, palms exploring his torso all over, nails dragging across his nipples over the cotton of his shirt, face all over the skin exposed by the stretched elastic of his t-shirt’s neckline, tonguing his neck, his collarbone, biting his pulsepoint and making him gasp into Joe’s mouth.

next steps — i swell like a late summer jackfruit; my skin roughens, the pulp of my body so thick; i wait to be speared and wanted; if squeezed, i’ll leave my color on your hands (hồ xuân hương, jackfruit)

Joe pushes his back firmly and he follows through blindly. It’s his house, but Joe knows exactly where eveything is and he trusts literally anywhere this man leads him to, and, also, he’s really fucking distracted by this:

Ja’Marr bites at his chin, right by his beard, and Tee gasps—he’s a freak, what is with him, why is that so fucking hot—and he keeps tugging on the strings of Tee’s sweatpants, fingers brushing deliberately over the tent in his pants, then straight up cupping and squeezing his dick through the cotton when Joe makes them stop to turn a corner. Tee has to just shove the little shit towards the wall, press his head hard against it, and sloppily kiss his mouth to teach him some sort of lesson of some success god what is Tee trying to accomplish here Ja’Marr is so fucking—

An arm—Joe—circles his waist, pushing forcefully between the miniscule space between his belly and Ja’Marr’s and wrenches him back from the other receiver. He whines, fingers scrabbling at his best friend—”Wait! No!”—while Ja’Marr is just laughing and tilting his head back into the wall as he grins teasingly at their quarterback, “what, jealous?”

Joe reaches out and twists his left nipple through his tank top. Ja’Marr yelps and starts yelling expletives at him. Tee, leaning back into Joe’s embrace, sighs exasperatedly. Of course they’re doing this, even now.

Ja’Marr steps closer, trying to smack at Joe through Tee, and Tee puts his hands on his biceps to stop him—gets distracted, starts sliding his hands up and down the length of them because, fuck, how can he not, and then just grabs them and tugs him closer to kiss him all over again with Joe’s arm between their bodies. Man, whatever.

Joe sighs exasperatedly, pressed up all against his back, but he really can’t be all that pissed, because he’s mouthing all up Tee’s neck—what is with him and necks, jesus, 

He’s shivering, caught in the middle, Joe in front, Ja’Marr behind, hands all over him, standing up but he’s falling, stumbling but he’s being held up. There’s a boy in front of him, and there’s a boy behind him, and who is he but another boy asking to be loved and held.

He’s leaning back to Ja’Marr’s chest now, tilted to the side so he can turn his face and kiss him still, the other man’s hand spanning across his face pinning him to place as he presses his tongue into his mouth and moans into it, as loud as he always is anywhere else. Another mouth is all over his chest, tonguing at his nipples, teeth scraping over the dark of his tattoos, panting all over him like a dog, god.

He doesn’t wear boxers at home, and the two know that precisely, Joe stroking his cock through the cotton of sweatpants like it isn’t even there, the grey fabric getting soaked through. He lowers his mouth over it, eyes looking straight up at Tee and asks if he could. Tee nods frantically, not even knowing what the fuck he wants but it’s Joe Burrow, he could do whatever he wants to Tee and Tee would lay in his arms like a supplicant and rip his chest open all pretty and bloody and let Joe Burrow dip his chin in and lap it all up.

He whimpers into Ja’Marr’s mouth, fluttering open his eyes, eyelashes clumpy with tears, sweat, he doesn’t know, and Ja’Marr coos, brushing kisses over his eyes as he drags his palms all over Tee’s belly, scraping nails over his pubes and pressing down in time with Joe going down on him like he knows the exact rhythm of Joe’s every move and plan, even here, even now, even over the sweat and smell of sex of Tee’s body—especially, Tee thinks, over his body.

that’s one — makes a cathedral, him pressing against me, his lips on my neck, and yes, i do believe his mouth is heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars (richard siken, crush)

Ja’Marr breathes into his ear, biting at the helix and scraping his teeth over it like a dog. Tee whimpers, turning his head to catch his mouth in his and clack their teeth together, a shock of pain grounding him to earth so he wouldn’t float up to the heavens too high. Ja’Marr huffs out a laugh against his lips, “Knock it off, dickhead, I know what you’re doing.”

Tee scowls at him, hands tightening on Joe’s hair instead of reaching out to twist and pinch on his skin, like punishing one of them is the same as punishing the other, really, an extension of a singular subject. Joe groans around his cock, extremely pleased, of fucking course he is, and Tee keeps tugging at his roots in exasperation. Fucking masochistic little shit.

Ja’Marr snickers, dragging his tongue all over his neck, “See, natural Joe Burrow knower. Made just for him—to be his receiver, just like me.”

Ja’Marr, honestly, why the fuck is he like this—

Joe and Tee both groan in unison, Tee coming off it in a whine because, fuck, Joe’s mouth is still all up around his dick, the vibrations traveling up straight to his brain and fucking him up beyond repair.

Joe pulls off with an actual wet pop! and twists a hand harshly around his cock—which feels really fucking good, the fuck—like an apology that he isn’t sucking Tee’s dick continuously since he got the chance to, and pushes his torso up to prop his face by Tee’s head, cheeks pressed up against his, chin digging into his shoulder, and he can feel him kiss Ja’Marr rough and wet, with tongue and spit and biting at his lips.

Fucking helllll, they’re trying to kill him.

The man still twisting his hand around his cock like he’s getting paid to presses his cheek harder against Tee’s, and he’s jawing at Ja’Marr, Tee realizes with a breathless laugh—”Would you quit saying shit like that so shamelessly midsex it ruins the fucking vibe.” “What fucking vibe? If anything I’m adding to it, bitch, get back to sucking his dick, the fuck.”—and Joe slinks back down right after like he didn’t just stop mid-blowjob to argue with Ja’Marr over the receiver’s uncensored prattling.

Tee whimpers, Joe’s mouth enveloping his cock again like it’s made for it, all heat and tightness and perfect 

how do you write people getting their dick sucked. exactly. no really.

ja'marr lets him breathe but he's instantly kissing down his neck and biting his collarbones and pushing him down and dragging a tongue over his chest tattoos he's /relentless/ and when he looks to where joe is its to him grinning down at him with a hand guiding ja'marr /down/ 'that's one. you got me three right?'

“That’s one,” Joe says, his little impish smile Tee has recorded into his brain countless of times before shining down at him, lips dark red, chin and mouth all wet with Tee’s spunk, “You gave me three.”

“Three what,” Tee asks, stupidly, ears still ringing from the force of his orgasm. He’s still so focused on the bright wet glint of liquid decorating Joe’s lower face, his come, staining his skin. Joe isn’t wiping it away, letting it dry on his skin, flaking and caking and clumping against the corner of his lips. Tee wants to lick it away, drag it into his mouth with his tongue, switch it up and leave bite marks all around his pretty lips. All the red in the cold, now red from his teeth. Would Joe let him. Would Ja’Marr let him. Would he let himself mark that pale skin up, leave parts of himself all over his quarterback in ways he’s never had the guts to even finish the thought of before tonight?

Joe leans closer, mouth over him, damn the fact that Tee’s own come is all over his mouth now. Three, Joe murmurs as he kisses him filthily, sliding his tongue through the gap of his teeth, over his papillae, staining his breath with something of his own. Tee wants a shot of Joe’s own come down his throat, drenching the lining of his esophagus. The thought makes his moan, makes him choke into Joe’s throat, and the older man swallows him whole. 

Fuck, three—do they—are they trying to get him to come three times, the same amount of times he caught Joe’s pass for a touchdown? Christ. He’s getting lightheaded.

He laughs incredulously, flicking his eyes down to Ja’Marr mouthing incessantly at his navel, teeth scraping along the black lines of his tattoos, exactly like he said he wanted too. Makes Tee woozy with want, how Ja’Marr gets needy and desperate for it, thirsting over Tee’s body. How many times has he stared at him naked? Tattoos bared and thought to put his mouth on him? Drag a finger down the lines of stars on his stomach? He has never once caught Ja’Marr’s eyes on them—how sneaky had the other man been?

Joe’s hand is right on the younger man’s head like a brand, like he can’t bear to let go. on his head guiding him

, then back to the blond still staring him down. His smile is just as mischievous as it always is. Are they going to take turns, now? That’s the hottest shit he’s ever thought of, probably.

“What,” he can’t help but say, scoffing and teasing Ja’Marr, reaching a hand to tug on his ear and scratch at his cheek because he’s so fucking fond of this man he can’t keep it in, really, “you looking to suck me off too?”

Ja’Marr tugs on his dick, his sensitive dick—bitch—and Tee hisses at him, stopping his loving scritches to outright pinch at his ear because never the fuck he minds, this man is such a fucking brat, he can’t put this guard down at all.

The younger man jerks his head away, laughing. He grins up at Tee, teeth bright and eyes even brighter. “Nah, I don’t like shit down my throat. Wanna fuck me instead?”

Tee chokes on his spit. He blacks out, he thinks, by the question alone. By the idea alone. By the thought alone. His brain tries conjuring images and then it just short circuits. Where is he. Who is he. Why is he.

His head gets cradled, pulled to the side by a hand and he’s being kissed by a smiling mouth, pulled back down to earth slowly and surely until he’s kissing back voluntarily instead of on autopilot. Joe, hand pressed to his cheek and eyes wide open even as he’s stealing Tee’s breath away by kissing him sweetly and thoroughly. What a freak. Who kisses with their eyes wide open. Joe Fucking Burrow, that’s who. His quarterback who threw him three touchdowns and tried biting his neck on national television. Posted on every NFL official social media accounts and sent to him by his high school friends with the words bruh u fucking ur qb??? Which he apparently is, now. 

“He asked you a question,” Joe murmurs against his lips. Right. Sure.

Tee looks down to his lap and, damn, what a fucking image. Ja’Marr Chase, laying belly down on his bed with his torso half over Tee’s thighs, a hand curled loosely around his sensitive dick, the other holding his hand—when did that happen, Tee is squeezing it tight unconsciously and now he can’t let go even if he tried—cheek pressed to his left thigh looking up at him with his pupils blown wide open waiting patiently for Tee to look at him.

Right.

“You get to choose,” Ja’Marr says when he notices he’s got Tee’s attention. He tugs at Tee’s soft cock again—

“It’s not a toy,” Tee yelps, his unoccupied hand automatically curling around the other receiver’s hand around his dick.

Ja’Marr just grins wider up at him, unsticking his cheek from his thigh to press a kiss on the hand wrapped around his wrist.

“You get to choose,” he says again, “Fuck my ass or my thighs?”

Tee lets out a sound only audible to dogs and dolphins and aliens 900 billion light years away, probably. Ja’Marr smiles up at him, looking so shily pleased that he can reduce Tee to such a state by just asking a simple question. He has no fucking business looking so sweetly enamored up at Tee after asking if he would rather fuck him in the ass or his thighs.

He’s jostled around again, Joe tugging at his hips to the side so Ja’Marr can haul his ass up to sit by them. This seems to be a theme, with these two, pushy on the field and off the field and in the bedroom—he can’t even say he’s never even thought of it,  Burrow-Chase dynamic duo, in whatever form, whatever shape, whatever way he can have them. In his dreams only, he thought, but. But.

Ja’Marr is spreading open the hand he’s kept on holding since god knows when—like an emotional support hand holding he’s got to keep a hold on to get through sex and that thought genuinely fucks Tee up in ways he’s never even thought of—and he drops a whole packet of lube he procured out of fucking nowhere.

Tee stares blankly down at it. Holy shit.

“Bro, you’re taking too long,” Ja’Marr says. Tee flicks his eyes up to look blankly at him. “I want you in me, like, yesterday.”

He’s trying to fucking kill him, Tee realizes. Calling him bro, asking to fuck him in the ass, the fuck is wrong with him.

“You gonna finger me open or I gotta do it myself?”

NggGgRrrHff.

Tee doesn’t even know what came out of his mouth, surging his torso forward and bringing his hand up to tug at Ja’Marr’s skull, palm all over the back of his head so he can tug him closer to his face and lick his mouth open and just shut him the fuck up. 

Ja’Marr whimpers, the cocky slope of his shoulders slumping down like a puppet with its strings cut, hauling closer near desperately to settle over Tee’s lap and press his palms over his shoulders for support—kissing Tee right back, breathing hot haaas over Tee’s mouth as he tries gasping for breath.

Tee tugs on his lips with his teeth, presses wet kisses to the side of his cheeks, drags his own lips over his skin back to the tender spot of his jaw, bites over it, pecks a little kiss in apology, then presses his cheek over Ja’Marr’s hard so he can tug roughly on his earlobe with his teeth—thinks he can devour the other man whole, really, from the sheer hunger in his gut built up from day one of over-familiarly dapping him up and hauling him in for a hug under the then-flickering lights of Paul Brown Stadium in 2021.

The lube’s gone from his fingers. He realizes this because someone is tugging Ja’Marr’s hips up so he’s kneeling over him, then pressing a finger in without so much as an ’excuse me’. 

Christ, Joe is so fucking.

Tee can't even find the words, really, to describe his quarterback. 

Ja’Marr yelps, gasps, clutches tighter at Tee’s shoulder, eyelashes fluttering close as he tries to keep kneeling but Joe is apparently ruthless when he's opening someone up because the younger man just collapses all over Tee, Tee letting his weight down him as drags both hands over the other man’s back to soothe him.

“Want—” Ja’Marr chokes out against the skin of Tee’s neck, “—want you.”

Joe huffs out a laugh as he mercilessly twists two fingers inside his receiver’s ass. Tee feels dizzy looking at the 

“Oh I see,” Joe says, dangerously amused, “I see how it is, can't even settle for me no more, huh, when you got Tee Higgins at your beck and call?”

His fingers slip out, shining under the dim lighting of Tee’s night settings, and then he slaps a hand over Ja’Marr’s ass like every part of him is for him to toy over. Tee is still so fucking woozy from the image of it all, his hand rubbing at Ja’Marr’s back sliding lower to smooth over the sting from Joe’s palm.

(god, what an ass. tee can't help himself, grabs a handful of it and tugs it to the side to show his hole, shining wetly from joe’s fingers, a whole invitation for him. tee wants to put his whole mouth on it. lick him open nice and easy. press a finger in and watch as his entire body tremble and shake.)

Joe grins at him, wide and a bit mean, cocky and soooo full of himself, precisely like every other time he makes an insane throw, a run further than his usual short stops, a little overtime nail-biter win like just hours ago: his ice-in-my-veins shot that Tee paused and contemplated jerking off to hours before this.

He reaches over Ja’Marr's body between them, kisses Tee like he’s giving him his approval, then turns and presses the sweetest kiss to Ja’Marr’s nose, damn the fact that the other man is glaring and outright pouting at him.

“Bro,” he croaks out, talking to Tee but trying to shoot daggers at Joe with his eyes, “let me up, let me take this bitch down for one second then we can go right back.”

Joe giggles bright like an actual child, keeps pressing kisses over whatever parts of Ja’Marr’s face he could reach until the younger man’s lips stretch out wobbly for a smile that he can't help, still whining at Joe to shut the fuck up, would he, just for one day. 

Tee grins wide in spite of himself too, hands still all over his best friend’s ass and lips still tingling from a kiss from his quarterback.

He drags his arm up so he can cradle Ja’Marr, fingers reaching over to grip at his jaw and twist it until he's looking right at him and putting all that focus on Tee, murmurs low and raspy: “you said you want me?”, and shamelessly delights in the way the other man’s pupils dilate wide and gorgeous.

“Fuck you,” Ja’Marr says, jaw working against Tee’s grip, “Get your fucking fingers in me before i force myself on your dick, damn it.”

that’s two — from the base of her neck, to the arch of her eyelids, her beauty made a slave of me (adonis, transformations of the lover)

Ja’Marr nestles himself on his mound of pillows—Tee’s pillows. The pillows Tee sleeps with. His favorite pillows. The dark maroon sheets caressing his bare skin as he lounges on his self made throne, as he spreads open his legs, slipping one more pillow under his hips so he can present his ass to Joe and Tee and look expectantly at them. Tee is still so fucking lightheaded. How did he go from scoring three touchdowns to scoring a whole other touchdown? Ja’Marr—his best friend—who ducked his head to grin slilly up at him not four hours ago, telling him the next round of WR room steak dinner was on him. 

Joe pours lube all over Tee’s fingers, 

Joe’s plastering himself all over his back, but he isn’t pushing him at all. He’s just—there. Pressed up all over him, moving with him, breathing over the skin of his neck, nosing behind his ear. He’s letting Tee control how he wants to fuck his man, Tee realizes with a jolt, trusting him with Ja’Marr. 

joe plastered all over tee's back, cock nestled against his ass but he's not pushing tee around he's just following his movements, letting tee control how he wants to enter ja'marr and that also fucks tee up because joes trusting him with ja'marr!! with how he treats ja'marr at his most vulnerable!!!! telling him he can go harder, ja'marr likes whatever, can take whatever, joe leaing a hand in his belly and pushing to add in extra sensation of pleasure when tee pushes /in/ for the first time and he just collapses all over ja'marr and they're all groaning hoarsely in unison because fuck tees in ja'marr and he just pushed his ass back all over joes dick

Joe snickers at the other receiver. Tee feels him lift up an arm, nails scratching at his scalp. He’s murmuring softly at him, but Tee doesn’t think Ja’Marr is really computing any of it. 

“Aren’t you being so agreeable tonight? Some Tee Higgins magic keeping you all pliant and malleable?”

Ja’Marr whimpers, lifting his chin and biting at Joe’s fingers. Joe huffs, chest vibrating against Tee’s back, and every square inch of Tee’s body is filled with warmth.

calls him baby

ja’marr gets fucked up when tee calls him baby because joe calls him baby btw so

that’s three — to love someone is firstly to confess: i'm prepared to be devastated by you (billy-ray belcourt, a history of my brief body)

He’s leaning all over Ja’Marr now, gazing down the man who’s grinning woozily up at him 

Joe, nosing the back of his neck and palming his ass cheeks asking him if he likes to be fucked. Ja’Marr, hands still shaky coming up to drag over his sides and settle over his ribs like a key settling into a lock and clicking into place. Tee himself, chest expanding with breath and skin bristling with want from so deep within him it feels like it’s bursting out and changing the hue of his skin to red, to blue, to orange and black, purple and green, magenta and cyan, a kaleidoscope of colors like the big bang theory—he’s a new universe stretching and expanding and these two are his first and only planets, never to be let go.

He feels stripped bare in front of these two—is his every thought and want obvious in his face and every motion now? Do they see, now, how much he wants them? How much he—loves them? Is it obvious, now, that when he speaks to them he’s speaking like there’s a lodge of do you think of me when you’re alone without me wanting to burst out from his throat? That he aches alone in the center of a crowd when he doesn’t have them beside him? When he has them beside him, even, because they’re not really his to have? Does it show? Do they know? Do they care to know? Does he care to show them?

Tee breathes out loudly, ragged and deep. Joe shushes him, blows air against the curve of his C7. Ja’Marr surges up, presses kisses against his wet cheeks and babbles unknown words to him like he’s speaking through his shitty mic on stream. Tee would miss it, if their randomly scheduled streams were ever to peter off. Tee would miss them, if they were ever to fade away from him.

“Baby,” Ja’Marr coos, “sweetheart, my sweet, my love, my heart, my gorgeous,”

Tee shudders away against his lips and feels the man behind him curve a smile against the skin stretched over his cervical spine.

“My baby,” Joe joins in, voice jokingly grave, “my gorgeous, my sweet—”

“—quit copying me,” Ja’Marr whines, cutting him off, but he’s grinning against Tee’s lips, so he knows he’s just doing so to be annoying—just to put a smile on Tee’s face and it’s working, Tee huffing wetly against the stretch of his grin.

“—my number five,” Joe continues on without pausing, barely a fletch in his voice, “my silly rabbit, best hands in the league, insane body control, prettiest smile in the whole fucking world, favorite receiver to throw to—”

“Hey now,” Ja’Marr whines in earnest now, hands reaching around Tee’s body to stab around blindly at their quarterback. Tee breaks down in laughter for real this time, collapsing fully on the man in the bottom of the pile, letting Ja’Marr find a whole other thing to whine about—’teeeeee you’re crushing me you ass, joe don’t you fucking try it!’—and there was ice creeping from every distal edge of his limbs to the core of him, but there’s nothing but warmth now, chasing it away, clouding his head, keeping him sane. 

“But really now,” Joe interrupts, tugging his hips up impatiently, “I really wanna fuck you, do you wanna?”

Right. Jesus. Joe fucking Burrow, everyone.

Ja’Marr hums, peppering his cheek with kisses again, ever so free with his sweet affections. “Ten out of ten,” he says, “would recommend.”

Tee stares sideways at him, still settled with his weight fully on him. “That a full Yelp review for a Joe Burrow fuck?”

Ja’Marr sighs dreamily, scratching at Tee’s sides, “Do you really want one?”

Jesus.

Tee wiggles around, dragging his body against Ja’Marr’s and the man beneath him giggles when he brushes his fingers deliberately against his sides. He twists until he’s peering at Joe, squinting at him and pretending that the man didn’t just suck his dick so good Tee cried and stared at him like a second coming of Christ. Blasphemous, sacrilegious, irreverent, and yet, he has yet to be struck down and smitten—or perhaps he already has, and this is all a byproduct of his imaginary ruin.

“Think you can make it good?” He asks imperiously, already knowing in his bones this man would be as good at fucking as he is at literally anything else, as well evidenced by his previous attempt at giving Tee what was possibly the best blowjob of his life just, what, 40 minutes prior?

Joe scoffs, ducking his head down and pecking at his lips. “I just sucked your dick to incoherency, the fuck do you mean ‘can i make it good’? I got a pretty mouth and a pretty dick, think for yourself.”

Tee chokes in sheer disbelief—heart stuttering a bit at the brief press of lips but what-the-fuck-ever—the ego on this man, jesus. He flicks his eyes to the pink of his lips—shining, distracting, real fucking pretty—then, well, down past the puffy nipples and golden dusting of chest hair and layer of fat over abs to the nice curve of a cock—thick and long, veiny, a blushy pink head, a weirdly sexy little jolt like it’s show-ponying, like it knows he’s watching it and wants to show it likes it—that Joe likes Tee watching him. Yeah, real fucking pretty dick, too, damn it, fuck Joe Burrow.

Tee whines, turning back around to bury his face—knowing damn well it’s burning red even through the dark of his skin—in the curve of Ja’Marr’s neck and tries not to let the dual laughter of the boys who’ve quite literally captured his heart stutter it too much. Failed, but whatever, he’s got way too much practice over the years regulating his heartbeat to normalcy around these two.

Joe goes to scrape his teeth along the top his spine again and Tee shivers, feeling like prey caught in the maw of a tiger, which really won’t do—he’s a fucking bengal too, damn it. He bucks his hips back firmly, makes sure to rub the curve of his ass against the hard of his quarterback’s dick and hides his satisfied smile against his fellow receiver’s jaw when Joe gasps loud and startled, hand coming to grip at his hip hard, probably leaving bruises for him to brush his fingers wonderingly over later on.

Ja’Marr snickers approvingly, pressing his jaw back firmly against Tee’s mouth, “Yeah, tell him who’s boss, make him work for it.”

Tee presses a kiss right to the tender skin below his jawbone, leaves it there for a beat, two, three, feels like maybe he can make out the faint fluttering of his heartbeat against his lips, then lets up to say drily, “Pretty sure all your raving reviews does wonders for his ego. Don’t act like you’re not to blame here, Mr. Joe Burrow’s Numero Uno.”

Ja’Marr just shrugs unapologetically the best he could, pressed down as he is with Tee’s full weight all over him to the bed, never really one to be shy about his near piety to one Joe Burrow when it’s just them three. He’s been circling indistinct little patterns on the skin of Tee’s hips the whole time, but he stops for a minute to reach a hand up and tap a little rhythm teasingly over Joe’s thigh, now kneeling to the side, the only one still hard and with zero orgasms to his name that night, pouting but not admitting it.

Tee very obviously wouldn’t say no to having Joe’s dick inside him but playing hard-to-get just so Joe Burrow would pout and whine about not getting to fuck him is really—really fucking cute, actually, wow. Wow, god, Tee is so gone for him, he should really take a step back and regulate his entire life and emotional capacity, wow. Wow.

and in the end — over a distance of four hundred miles, her yearning and his yearning are intertwined, as though there were no spatial or temporal interval between them (jenny erpenbeck, kairos)

After it’s all done and not said, then, Tee’s left naked in the middle of the hallway leading to his bathroom, unable to take the steps back to his own room where his best friends are, clutching at his towel after having just pissed, and having orgasmed three fucking times by the combined willpower of his two closest teammates, all because he scored three touchdowns for a game—that might possibly be his last home game with them—that had playoff stakes. Fuck.

Heavy footsteps come up to him and he flicks his eyes up to see Joe staring him down—naked, gorgeous, sweat-slicked, his quarterback, his friend. Who had just fucked the bejeesus out of him.

Tee drags a hand down his face harshly. Stupid. So fucking stupid.

The lilt of Ja’Marr’s voice when he says my sweet, when he’s referring to Tee as my heart, when he’s saying Tee as my gorgeous. When Joe says gravely, jokingly, possessively, my number five, he’s saying that about Tee. 

Joe catches his hands—both of them—towel slipping away, and holds them and tugs at them until Tee is stumbling into him, lifting his chin up awkwardly so he won’t slam it into Joe’s nose but Joe doesn’t even do him the honor of avoiding it. He just tucks it into the curve of his Adam’s apple and breathes in deep like a weirdo. How many times has Tee just caught him with his nose buried in Ja’Marr’s neck as he hugs the receiver—how many times has he caught the man nudge his nose to the curve of Tee’s shoulder, right at the base of his neck, after a game when he comes to him for a hug. Oh.

“Joe,” Tee breathes out, trembles, wonders how he’s supposed to word this out, how he’s supposed to say how he feels, how he’s supposed to say t

Ja’Marr, breathing in his air and telling him he doesn’t want him to leave. 

Tee sees Joe grin down his phone at ass o’clock in the morning and knows he’s reading i love you in between the letters of Ja’Marr’s why the fuck is all of cincy awake at 7 in the morning.

Ja’Marr says hey, all sleepy with the vowel dragging and it sounds like come here, you two. Tee goes, Joe right behind him a half step away.

a little more down the line — the only heaven i’ll be sent to, is when i’m alone with you (hozier, take me to church)

you do like all those pet names

he calls me all that all the time joe says nosing behind tees ear

i like calling you that too tee says, amused. letting his neck bend even more, what even are the words uncomfortable stretch when joe burrow has his nose buried in the curve of it. 

you called me baby, ja’marr says then, shy and a little quiet, like he’s saying something he keeps close to him and isn’t sure how he should breach it out of him. 

i call him that, joe says next, grin audible even if its not visible from where he’s pressed up behind tee

oh. tee called him baby, told him to come for him, and ja’marr gasped into his mouth and bursted all over tee’s belly, drenching him in white, whimpering as he stared into tee’s eyes with his own watering but still kept it open, didn't even close it because he didn’t want to. couldn't, maybe, tee thinks again.

oh, tee says out loud for real then, bumping his nose forward to ja’marr like he's learning that ja’marr likes to do, okay then, baby, come here, baby, let me see you, baby.

ja’marr laughs, bumps his nose right back. don't wear it thin. 

never, tee swears.

my baby, my baby, joe murmurs finally into the back of tee’s neck, pressing his fingers into the insides of ja’marr’s elbows.

.

.

.

i want more thumps. i want more time. i want to waste my love on everything. give me a heart for ohio. —(joy sullivan, instructions for traveling west, an octopus has three whole hearts)

more time together for these three, please.

WHICH APPARENTLY HEY THEY DID IT 😭😭👍👍👍👍 GOOD FOR THEM!!! trey next so help me!! when treys news comes out (🙏) maybe ill post that treymarr unfinished oblivious courting fic idk we'll see that ones more of a mess than this and also wayyy shorter lmao but anyways:::: thank u for reading through this all if u made it to this end note 😇🫶 goodbye see u again whenever i have it in me to show up again akdhsjdjdj love yall bengals super bowl 2k26 Believe! or whatever it is they all say in that 2021 run 💖

thank you for every one of you who've come into my inbox to ask how i am by the way!!!! adore and miss you all very much <33

[raconteur-wanpi]

One Piece 1142

Review time!

Starting with the cover story again, Yamato seems to OHKO Who's Who. Lol. Lmao, even. Well, he might get back up later, but I hope he stays down. It's funnier if, after all that set-up, One Hit is all it took.

Anyway, after a "big snake" is seen attacking the school, we get a better look at the teachers! I really like all of their designs, I'll always welcome another ensemble group of wacky characters. Seems the school is named after its principal. Funnily enough his name can be translated as "Fangs" or "Tusks"!

Also I think I saw a translation where Ange is specifically labeled as a teacher of the "official language", a.k.a "Koyogo", the language Oda said the World Government forced everyone in the world to learn as a Lingua Franca. Interesting!

The kids claim the giant snake is "Jörmungandr", so interestingly we have a lot of Norse Mythology references again. Kiba and Saul take good care of it easily, it's fun to see some powerhouses do their silly big shounen action finishing moves.

For some reason my instincts tell me a giant serpent getting hit by a big hammer is some sort of foreshadowing. No idea why, just a gut feeling. Hammers seem to be important this arc.

While these mysterious monsters attack, the children also seem to be falling asleep and start sleepwalking Pied Piper style. They seem to be following Gunko's arrow!

It is however still a mystery whether the power that put them to sleep, and the power the summoned the monsters (we'll talk about that later, don't you worry) are the same or not.

It is soon revealed that these monsters are a manifestation of the children's greatest fears and/or nightmares! That's an incredible power. This is one of those powers that can be utilized very well for character studies, and as I've already said, I can't wait to see the Strawhats nightmares/fears manifested hehehehe. Also I love how Nika is one of these Nightmares, that's very fun. Also yes, you can see that kid's mom in the bottom left.

Not to get my hopes up again, but I am hoping that having a "fear" based power for one of our antagonists, is gonna be a good chance for Usopp Thematic Relevance. He's the guy that grapples with fear every day. Is he going to be the one who will struggle with this power the most? Or the exact opposite, precisely because he's the only Strawhat used to dealing with fear on a daily basis? Who knows, trying not to jinx it with my optimism..... C'mon Oda... Usopp arc... please.....

Anyway, I guess the Nightmare Theming is why I wonder if the kids falling asleep and the Monsters showing up is the result of the same power of not: it could be a situation where they're separate: one power puts the kids to sleep/hypnotizes them, and another power manifests their fears.

But if this is the doing of one Gods Knight only, then this could be a power of Nightmares; making it one and the same. The children are put to sleep, and their nightmares manifest in reality while they do that, like fuel.

Thing is, after we see that, Killingham is given a "good job" and he himself immediately falls asleep, which seems to be his ongoing gag so far. Which begs the question, if this is all his doing (outside of the arrow), then.... is that his devil fruit? Does he really have the Kirin fruit? Can Kirin on One Piece do that? Or does he have like, the Nightmare Fruit or something, and the Kirin thing is like.... something else? Does Imu's powers come into this? No clue whatsoever. We're gonna have to wait.

Also do note Summers sitting in his armchair. Very funny. It came with him so he might as well use it.

And interestingly enough, when asked what she fears the most, Gunko answers: Nika.

Cannot wait to see how this whole deal unfolds.

Now moving to Loki! God he is huge, Hajrudin barely reaches his knees.

I am very very interested in his "if you care about keeping Elbaph safe" line. He is most likely making a threat; if you want to keep it same from me.

But could it be a double entendre. Perhaps he means that he has information that could save Elbaph from the World Government, a sort of "we don't have time, free me so we can stop them".

Maybe it's the former, maybe it's the latter, maybe it's both. It's probably the former, though.

Aaaand here it is. He strikes his Ragnir hammer on the bark of the tree, lightning comes down, and it lights on fire. This panel goes hard. The lighting and the line of action... mwah.

I've already seen debate on what this means for Loki's powers. I've seen people say this confirms the hammer has the devil fruit and not him. Others claim it's a testament to his power, and that it is HIS devil fruit, and that's he's strong enough to use a weakened version of it, even with one Sea Stone shackle. And I've seen people say there's no devil fruit displayed here yet, simply the power and friction of the hammer is able to light the fire like a flint.

Honestly, I have no clue which one is the correct answer! But I am oh so excited to find out.

Very interesting chapter, the arc is finally kicking in and chaos is unfolding!

[linkspooky]

Hey friend, beautiful metas, you are great at this. I would like to hear your opinion on the one who is the second best antagonist in Bleach for me, Yhwach. It's my favorite manga and I would like to hear the opinion of someone who could understand the message of his character and the final arc of TYBW which for me is also the best of the manga.

Yhwach's philosophy about a world without the fear of death has great value in the work for me and one of the things that makes it so interesting is how he somehow contrasts with Aizen in the arc of the arrancars. Both of them were wrong in their ideologies, and only realized it when they achieved exactly what they wanted. Aizen becoming an infinite existence, and Yhwach becoming a stagnant existence.

So, fun fact Ywach is my second favorite Bleach Antagonist now (not counting Ulquiorra because he's just a precious misunderstood little baby) but when I first read TYBW I didn't like him at all. It really took the anime for me to understand how plot important Ywach is to the story. I usually don't like saying this, but if you think Ywach is a badly written antagonist then you really just don't get him.

The thing is everyone says they want to have nuanced villains but it's okay to have antagonists who are just symbolic forces of nature. The true antagonists in Bleach aren't the bad guys, it's the inability of the ensemble casts to overcome their personal issues, or work together as a team. Bleach has really strong character conflict, it really feels like every character who gets screentime is on a journey that's symbolized by the progression of their powers, whether they be quincy, fullbringer, or Shinigami.l

Therefore it is okay for Ywach not to be a character with a backstory as deep and human as Shigaraki, because he's symbolic of the force of FATE that the main characters are fighting against. Which is why the best way to understand Ywach is by comparing him to Aizen, Bleach's best antagonist. More on that under the cut.

The Fraud vs. The Real Deal

So ironically just like the best way to understand Aizen is also by comparing him to Ywach. Everything Aizen tries to be, a force of fate, the controlling force in the narrative, the one who has everyone dancing on the palms of his hands Ywach just naturally is. Aizen tries to become divine through schemes and plots, Ywach was literally born divine. He doesn't need to call himself a god, everyone already calls him a god. The quincy gave him the name "Ywach."

Before we get deeper into their comparisons, I'm going to give an example of just how Aizen is a fraud. The reveal of Misaki's backstory in thousand year blood war really did salvage Aizen's character for me after I started to dislike him towards the end of Arrancar Arc.

There's a fine line to walk with mastermind characters. You have to ask yourself is the character genuinely smart, or is the author just moving things around in the plot and letting the villain have plot armor and plot convenience in order to make them appear smarter than they already are.

Aizen claimed that he'd had everything in the palm of his hand since Ichigo was born, and that was what made me officially call bullshit. Then, the Misaki backstory reveals that Aizen was in fact just bullshitting the entire time.

Aizen didn't actually engineer Ichigo's birth as he claimed. One of his experiments just happened to attack Ichigo's mom, and Aizen decided to stay back and observe the situation. Then he kept monitoring Ichigo to see if he would be useful later. Which is what Aizen does in general, he puts his fingers in a lot of people's pies and then is clever enough to push situations into his favor.

He claims to be an omniscient planner, but he's really just clever and good at improvising when random things like White attacking Ichigo's mother happen so he can turn those situations into his advantage. When Aizen claims "I had everything planned from the beginning" it's just another illusion he's using to try to control you, and characters who buy that are easy to manipulate.

Because Aizen is a fraud. That is literally his zanpakuto, making illusions that control the senses. Everything down to his zanpakuto the literal reflection of his soul is fraudulent. Aizen makes claims at godhood but he doesn't even believe what he's saying.

Aizen yells at Ulquiorra that people shouldn't accept the way the world is, that they should try to be gods if they have the ability to while at the same time Ichigo called him out that his true desire was to be just another soul reaper.

However, in the world of Bleach godhood isn't all it's cracked up to be. The closest thing to a god, the Reio, the lynchpin of the unvierse is a limbless being, sealed in a crystal, that was not only betrayed and backstabbed and brutally massacred by the shinigami who supposedly worshipped them he's also like completely helpless.

He's eternal and all powerful and the very being that holds the world together, and also all he can do is passively observe reality. Destroying the soul king is a mercy because it releases him from his eternal suffering.

This is where we finally reach Ywach, who is what everything Aizen pretended to be. Aizen had to rely on the Hogyoku entirely to give other people power, whereas Ywach naturally can gift the quincy with his power. Aizen wanted to become the soul king he was a mortal who tried to ascend to divinity.

Ywach is heavily implied to be the soul king's literal son. Unlike Aizen he can actually claim to be a divine being, and he's worshipped as one taking the name of the christian god.

Aizen claims to be behind Ichigo's every fight in the manga, while Ywach actually is behind Ichigo's every fight because he's been there all along, pretending to be Ichigo's zanpakuto spirit. Ywach as Zangetsu even admits this, he was limiting Ichigo from his true power while also convincing Ichigo he was an ally because he never wanted Ichigo to become a full fledged sorcerer since he's not only a fragment of Ywach but the embodiment of his quincy powers.

Ywach is responsible for ichigo's desire to protect others, because his decision to terminate all impure quincy killed Ichigo's mother. Ywach has been with Ichigo since birth, since all quincies carry a fragment of Ywach's power in them. When Ywach calls Ichigo his son, he's not bullshitting either, because Old Man Zangetsu the fragment of Ywach inside Ichigo was in a sense a mentor and a father figure to him.

Ywach is a force of nature, in this case he's fate. The same fate that Ichigo wanted to shatter with his sword. Unlike Aizen's claims to be in control he can actually back this up. He controls Ichigo to slay the soul king, and his literal ability "The Almighty" is to rewrite the future to bring whatever future he wants into being. He can peer into every possible future and see millions of possible variations fo the future like grains of sand and then just make the one he wants happen. He literally, creates fate.

However, as I said it's not actually a good thing to be god in Bleach. Ywach because he is divine, can't live in the world with everyone else because of his fear of death. He's terrified of death probably for two reasons, one because he existed in a world without death, he watched his own father get butchered in the worst way possible, and he was basically stillborn. He fears returning to the state he was at birth unable to itneract with the world. A state ironically that was much like his father when he was sealed in the soul palace.

He's also experienced the deaths of every quincy he gave his power to over and over again. So Ywach is the force of fate itself, but just like fate which cannot be controlled, Ywach is an entirely stagnant entity.

The exact opposite of Aizen who was someone who wanted to be just like every other soul reaper. It's why even though Aizen's a fraud, between the two of them Aizen is the ideological victor in the end.

Since Aizen was saved by Ichigo in a way. By giving him the worthy opponent that he always craved, Aizen was knocked back down by the pedestal he always stood on. He became just another soul reaper as he always wanted to be. That's why he was able to believe in humans in the end and give up his notions of becoming a god.

[moncoeurestatoimonamour]

Dans le cadre pittoresque de Saint-Alban-Auriolles, entre les pierres anciennes du dolmen du Calvaire et la douceur des paysages environnants, la promenade se transforme en un moment suspendu. Les sentiers sinueux vous mènent, main dans la main, à travers les champs parfumés de thym et de lavande, là où la nature semble murmurer des secrets d’autrefois. Au pied du dolmen, tout semble figé dans le temps. Le silence est profond, presque sacré, et c’est comme si les siècles passés nous offraient une pause pour savourer l’instant présent. Dans ce lieu mystique, chaque pas que vous faites ensemble devient une promesse d’éternité, où les pierres anciennes semblent témoigner de la beauté de l’amour. Sous les cieux azurés, le doux vent effleure vos visages, et les oiseaux chantent une mélodie douce, comme une déclaration d’amour à la vie. Ici, chaque souffle est partagé, chaque regard un serment silencieux. Le dolmen, tout comme votre amour, est un symbole de solidité et de mystère, et tout autour, la nature danse, nous offrant l’instant parfait pour se perdre l’un dans l’autre. Chaque moment passé dans ce décor enchâssé entre histoire et beauté, devient un souvenir gravé dans le cœur, une promesse silencieuse que, comme ces pierres, votre amour restera indestructible.

Saint Alban Auriolles / France 🇫🇷

PhoTo ©️ LM

[camisoledadparis]

Saga: Soumission & Domination 395

Mes nouveaux Escorts-4

Je convoque mes 4 recrues pour un premier bilan. Je vois surtout avec eux qu'après leurs " entrées " dans ma société, ils allaient devoir attendre l'été pour retravailler. Les examens de fin d'année doivent être impérativement réussis.

Cette année, je vais pouvoir proposer plus de 15 escorts à mes clients et je sais que certains sont prêts à acquérir 2 périodes.

Fabrice :

Il est Ok avec ça. Il me donne ses disponibilités de Juillet et Août pour que je prospecte et propose sa candidature.

Il me dit que depuis qu'il s'est avoué que ce sont les mecs qui l'intéressent, il se fait régulièrement draguer. Un mec de son année lui a fait clairement comprendre qu'il aimerait le connaitre mieux. Mais ce qui l'étonne le plus, c'est de s'être fait aborder par des mecs dans la 30aines. Quand je lui demande où, il me dit que c'était au rayon sous-vêtements et shorts d'un grand magasin d'article de sport.

Il me pense me rassurer en me disant qu'il n'avait rien accepté ni des uns, ni des autres.

Je lui explique alors qu'il n'est pas condamné au célibat. Il sait que certains de mes escorts sont en couple. Mais je lui conseil d'être très prudent. Qu'il ne dise à personne en quoi consiste son nouveau travail et que s'il " batifole " en dehors de notre groupe, qu'il se protège toujours.

Rires de sa part. Il m'assure qu''avec ce que j'ai en magasin (faisant allusion à ses collègues), les 3ème mi-temps de nos séances de sport, comblent sans problème ses besoins.

J'ai déjà eu des demandes pour lui. Notamment d'un ancien footballeur qui m'a avoué, en posant une option sur lui, qu'il avait souvent été excité par les culs des attaquants de ses équipes. Encore jeune, je sais qu'il va kiffer le cul de Romain.

Quand il confirme sa réservation, il me précise que Romain devra emporter sa tenue de foot et ses crampons. Il comptait bien échanger quelques passes avec lui. Des passes ? Je n'en doute pas ! Ça et les 3ème mi-temps dont il avait rêvé. Il me demande si j'ai d'autre footeux parmi mes escorts et du coup me retient pour la même période Morgan mon collègue de l'école de commerce.

Comme ils seront quasiment cloitrés Le client n'étant pas Outé comme Ronaldo, j'accepte, ce sera plus agréable pour Romain d'être avec un collègue pour son premier été.

Morgan est Ok et je les vois discuter pas mal ensemble depuis que c'est organisé.  

Mick :

Pareillement, il est d'accord avec ce programme. Il me dit avoir sauté une meuf dernièrement. Quand je lui demande pourquoi puisque dans la façon qu'il a eu de me présenter les choses, j'avais décelé qu'il n'y avait pas d'affect entre eux, il me dit " juste pour savoir si j'en étais encore capable ".

Conclusion : c'est pas aussi intense que le plaisir qu'il avait pris avec mon client. Mais il avait assuré et la meuf avait pris son pied et lui aussi. Il avait essayé de lui faire sucer la totalité de ses 19cm en pure perte, dès le 15ème cm elle avait des renvois. Il l'avait enculée par surprise (fausse " fausse manoeuvre ") mais elle n'avait pas apprécié et il avait dû s'excuser avant de se finir dans son vagin. Du coup, il trouve plus " kiffant " de baiser entre mecs. Au moins il n'y a pas tous ces freins avec ses collègues. Il apprécie d'être Actif et Passif avec eux, comme les 4/5ème de mon équipe.  

Il est OK pour l'Amérique du sud et il a même commencé à travailler le sujet. Le client désire juste le rencontrer avant. Pas tant qu'il ne craigne que je lui mette un incapable, je n'ai pas ça en stock, mais pour un mois, il tient à ce que ça colle vraiment bien entre eux deux. Ça se comprend !

La rencontre est comprise dans le contrat de l'été sauf s'il ne convient pas, auquel cas ce sera un contrat standard.

Retour de leur entrevue :

Mick : C'est Ok. Les 25x5.5 du client ont eu les mêmes effets que ceux qu'ils s'étaient pris lors de son dépucelage. Le mec est en plus très intéressant et déjà bien calé sur les civilisations disparues. Il pense que ça devrait le faire pour 1 mois.

Client : C'est OK aussi. Il a apprécié l'engagement de mon escort autant sur la partie historique que sur la partie " détente ". Il l'a trouvé expressif pendant l'enculage et aussi très avide de sexe. En fait, Mick avait commencé par cette partie du test. Il avait bien deviné que c'était le plus important pour un séjour d'un mois ensemble. Ça lui avait bien plu, tout comme le fait qu'il soit quasiment " neuf " et d'avoir à lui faire découvrir les nombreuses facettes du sexe entre hommes.

Il demande que je lui envoie les mensurations du jeune homme pour pouvoir se charger de son trousseau. Pendant le voyage, ils se rendront à certaines manifestations officielles qui nécessitent autre chose qu'un short et un t-shirt. En plus il compte inclure 2 semaines de croisière sur la côte Pacifique. Mick n'aura qu'à arriver avec juste sa tenue du jour. Pour les sous-vêtements et maillots de bain, il a déjà en tête les marques qu'il va acquérir et de me citer : Aussiebum, ES et ADDICTED.

Je connais le client, il va assurer et Mick va se retrouver équipé pour un bon moment.

Gabin :

Il a fait l'affaire chez André qui aurait souhaité l'avoir avec lui pour son séjour dans les iles Grecques. Comme ce sont les 15 jours qu'il prend chaque année avec son fils, Gabin est plus que partant. Il avait apprécié de pouvoir enculer Ric aussi. Je lui dis que là-bas il pourra aussi draguer et ramener du " travail " à la maison. Il ne savait pas ça possible et ça l'enthousiasme.

Il me dit que 15 jours c'est court et qu'il peut assurer un autre client si c'était possible vu qu'à la FAC, il n'as pas de stage imposé.

La semaine suivante je peux lui proposer un séjour de 15 jours en Espagne au-dessus de Marbella. Un de mes vieux clients va bénéficier de l'augmentation de mon équipe et il succédera à Com2 dans la villa. Ils auront même deux jours ensemble.

Je lui dis d'en profiter pour être originaux.

Il profite des séances de sport pour faire une vraie connaissance avec Com2. S'il a un an de moins, brun tous les deux, ils ont des gabarits voisins. Com2 est juste un peu mieux monté. Ce qui fait saliver Gabin qui s'est finalement très bien fait à la sodo et qui n'est pas contre une visite régulière de cette partie de son anatomie.

Je les ai vus se tester l'un l'autre et les 21cm de Com2 avaient effectivement tout l'air de plaire à Gabin. Le client va disposer pendant deux jours d'un couple d'escort bien chaud. La terrasse de sa piscine va s'embellir de deux beaux mecs. Il va faire des jaloux parmi ses amis qui ne sont pas clients chez moi. C'avait été le cas l'été dernier avec l'escort qu'il m'avait pris. D'après le client, c'était le plus beau et le plus musclé de la 10aine d'escorts, la plupart locaux, présents à leurs petites fêtes.

Quand il me dit ça, je lui conseille d'indiquer à ses amis les coordonnées de ma filiale espagnole. Il refuse, il tient à être encore le mieux accompagné cet été. Pour en être certain, il tient à me dédommager de la potentielle perte d'exploitation que son comportement pourrait provoquer. Je ne contrarie jamais un client, mais je suis tranquille mes Espagnols seront tous occupés aussi cet été.

La triplette +1 :

Je commence à penser aussi à mes 4 loustiques qui m'ont extorqué l'autorisation de faire des contrats cet été.

Comme je leur annonçais que j'allais moi-même choisir avec qui ils allaient partir en " vacances ", je reçois un concert de protestations. Ils veulent absolument participer aux mises en enchères.

Comme je ne changerais pas d'avis, je leur propose un plan unique avant les " vacances " pour ça.

Avec Jona on monte leurs dossiers et leurs fiches signalétiques. Rien que devant les photos en maillots je bande déjà !

Celui qui décroche mon petit beau-frère est un des rares à s'être fait Ludovic. C'est pour cette raison qu'il a tenu absolument à gagner l'enchère. Il avait gardé un souvenir très agréable du passage de ce canon de beauté chez lui et il voulait recommencer avec le petit frère.

C'est d'ailleurs lui qui décroche le top à égalité avec Jalil suivi de très près par Max et Nathan.

Les BACs en poches et les Examens réussis pour Nathan et Jalil, ils ont tout l'été pour se détendre.

Au pied du mur, ils ne sont plus aussi fier et les 4 ont le trac avant de partir pour leur premier contrat. Ils n'ont pas peur des dimensions exceptionnelles de leurs clients mais de ne pas bander et de ne pas faire ce qu'il faut avec eux.

Avec Jona et Ludovic, je les rassure. Ils ont entendu suffisamment de commentaire sur la façon de baiser avec un client quand mes Escorts discutaient entre eux, qu'ils en savent autant en théorie. La pratique, ils l'ont aussi à participer à nos nombreuses touzes.

Retour d'Enguerrand :

Il déboule dans notre chambre à 5h du matin en provenance directe de chez le client. Il nous réveille mais ça ne le dérange pas. Heureusement que Marc n'était pas avec nous, il aurait moyennement apprécié.

Il enlève juste ses chaussures et se coule entre son frère et moi. Il tient à tout me raconter en détail !

On se fait chasser par PH et Ludovic qui veulent finir leur nuit et que les " détails " indiffèrent. J'enfile un shorty et nous montons d'un étage.

Dans la cuisine alors que je prépare un café et sors de quoi grignoter du frigo, Enguerrand me serre fort dans ses bras et me remercie de l'avoir laissé faire ça. Il me dit avoir trop kiffé avec le client. Que cela n'avait rien à voir avec les baises au blockhaus ni même celles de la campagne.    

Son trac a disparu dès l'ouverture de la porte et qu'il a vu que le client était physiquement bien (50ans en paraissant 40, musclé normal, sans ventre). Ce dernier l'avait fait tourner sur lui dès la porte refermée, réellement surpris de sa ressemblance avec Ludovic. Ils avaient baisé dans le séjour et utilisé tous les meubles pour supporter leurs ébats.

Ce qui lui a fait le plus plaisir c'est d'entendre le client dire que s'il ressemblait physiquement à son frère, question baise c'était pas le même tonneau. Il n'avait pas ménagé sa peine et surtout il ne voulait pas décevoir le client et ternir la réputation de ma boite.

Je l'attrape par le cou et lui frotte la tête de mon poing. Il se dégage et en profite pour me claquer un bisou sur les lèvres.

Le café est prêt et je nous sers. Il reprend ses commentaires.

Il avait " kiffé grave " de se faire démonter la rondelle. Il était tout fier de me dire que le client avait jouit trois fois avant que lui ne se laisse aller. Il avait été dirigé mais avait su faire preuve d'initiative qui avait bien plut et de me donner l'enveloppe bonus pour que je vois à quel point il avait satisfait le client. Vu l'épaisseur ç'avait été le cas.

Alors qu'il s'attendait à être seulement utilisé, sa bouche pour les gorges profondes et sa rondelle, il avait été surpris qu'il s'occupe aussi de son plaisir. Caresses, branlage, bouffage de rondelle et même fellation, le client en avait fait une consommation complète. La seule chose qu'il n'avait pas fait c'est d'enculer le client. Mais ça n'avait pas été nécessaire pour qu'il prenne son pied.

Il revenait ravi de cette première expérience et était impatient de savoir qui j'avais réservé pour lui, mon petit beau-frère préféré, pour les vacances. Comme j'hésite entre deux clients qui m'ont demandé comme une faveur de l'avoir avec eux, je lui dis qu'il choisirait.

Jardinier

~~

~~

[chic-a-gigot]

Le Petit écho de la mode, no. 27, vol. 52, 6 juillet 1930, Paris. Au pied du beffroi. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

Robe en reps de laine. Corsage à empiècement avec petite cape. Manches plates. Jupe ajustée du haut, montée sur un volant plissé. Chapeau paille anglaise. Sac et ruban du chapeau formant ensemble.

Wool rep dress. Paneled bodice with small cape. Flat sleeves. Fitted top skirt, mounted on a pleated flounce. English straw hat. Matching bag and hat ribbon.

Métrage: 3 m. 50 en 140.

—

Robe en crêpe de Chine ou foulard imprimé. Corsage drapé avec col plissé noué à la taille. Jupe croisée et en forme sur un empiècement. Chapeau crin et feutre.

Crepe de chine dress or printed scarf. Draped bodice with pleated collar tied at the waist. Crossed and shaped skirt on a yoke. Horsehair and felt hat.

Métrage: 4 m. 50 en 100.

[chicinsilk]

Jardin des modes Mars 1957

Karl Lagerfeld for Jean Patou Spring/Summer 1957 Haute Couture Collection "Ensemble," a fine black and white houndstooth suit, buttoned in black and white, storm blue, coral, and beige.

Karl Lagerfeld pour Jean Patou Collection Haute Couture Printemps/Été 1957 "Ensemble", tailleur en fin pied-de-poule noir et blanc, boutonné de Noir Noir et blanc, bleu tempête, corail et beige.

Photo Georges Dambier

[lisaalmeida]

Belle Lettre d'amour... à lire......

Lettre de Consuelo de Saint-Exupéry à son mari Antoine St Exupery

Fin décembre 1944

Que j’aille très loin, en train, en avion, sous la mer, par la terre, j’ai l’impression que jamais je ne pourrai arriver jusqu’à toi.

Tonio, Tonito, mon homme, mon fils, mon clocher, fais sonner les grandes cloches parce que je ne peux pas respirer. J’ai grossi en attendant la houle qui va te ramener.

Je tombe avec les feuilles, avec la pluie, avec ma jupe de fête.

Je ne peux pas marcher à force d’attendre le moment où

je reverrai tes yeux, ronds comme des fleurs.

Tu ne vois pas que je ne peux pas arroser l’arbre de Noël pour le faire grandir. Mon mari des étoiles, j’ai de tout petits pieds et de toutes petites mains, il faut que tu reviennes m’aider.

Je ne sais pas comment j’ai marché depuis mon enfance jusqu’à aujourd’hui. Ma vie fut un immense vertige.

A présent, j’ai des cheveux gris, j’ai tellement de larmes dans ma bouche que cela me suffirait pour boire toute ma vie.

Pourquoi Tonio, mon Tonio, mon mari,

mon mal et mon bien, mon ciel et mon enfer,

es-tu parti pour ne jamais revenir ?

Je ne peux pas le croire, je ne veux pas le savoir, tu es parti dans ton avion, le 31 juillet, en mission de guerre et tu n’es pas revenu. Pas de nouvelles de toi et l’année va finir. Il faut que je l’accepte, et si je l’accepte, c’est pour t’aimer davantage.

Comme je t’aurais aimé si tu étais revenu ! Comme toi aussi tu aurais fait la même chose pour moi !

Seigneur à la couronne d’épines, arrache-moi le cœur pour qu’il ne me fasse plus mal.

Tu sais, toi, que Tonio est tout pour moi. Sans lui, je ne suis rien. Sur la table de ma chambre d’hôtel, j’ai un livre de lui, son portrait avec son manteau de soldat en cuir et ses fines mains d’homme comme des ailes et sa barbe pousse avec mes larmes.

Seigneur grand et miséricordieux, je te donne ma peine et ma douleur.

Mon Père, aide-moi. Je n’ai personne pour aimer, pour attendre, pour embrasser.

Ma maison est devenue petite, seule ma fenêtre reste ouverte pour faire entrer le ciel où il est parti en s’envolant pour ne pas revenir.

Rendez-le-moi mon Père, je vous en prie, faites un miracle.

Si vous me le rendez dans sa tendresse, je le coifferai, je le laverai, je l’embrasserai et ensemble nous irons jusqu’à vous