#comtes de champagne

[mrs-trophy-wife]

#comtes #rosé #comtes de champagne #champagne #drinks #pop champagne

[roehenstart]

Jeanne I of Navarre (1273-1305).

Princess of the House of Champagne, she was Queen of Navarre and Countess of Champagne from 1274 to 1305, and Queen of France from 1285 to 1305.

#royaume de france #jeanne de navarre #jeanne de champagne #reine de france #vive la reine #Jeanne Ire de Navarre #reine de navarre #royaume de navarre #comté de champagne #champagne #maison de champagne #maison de blois champagne #maison de blois #comtes de champagne #capétiens #dynastie capétienne

[chateau-aemkei]

One night!

1998 Gosset Celebris Vintage Extra Brut

2002 Louis Roederer Cristal Brut

2002 Piper Heidsieck Rare Brut

2002 Billecart Salmon Cuvee Nicolas Francois Billecart Brut

2006 Gosset Grand Millesime Brut

2006 Pol Roger Sir Winston Churchill Brut

2006 Taittinger Comtes de Champagne Blanc de Blancs

2008 Don Perignon Limited Edition by Lenny Kravitz

#wine #lover #champagne #gosset #celebris #vintage #extra brut #louis roederer #cristal #brut #piper heidsieck #rare #billecart salmon #cuvee nicolas francois billecart #pol roger #sir winston churchill #taittinger #comtes de champagne #blanc de blancs #dom perignon #limited edition #lenny kravitz #grand millesime

[aquagirl1978]

Auld Lang Syne - Comte de Saint-Germain x Reader (Ikemen Vampire)

A/N: Ny last fic of 2023 - Happy New Year's Eve! Day 6 of my 12 Days of Christmas. Also part of my New Year, New Celebration follower celebration.

Pairing: Comte de Saint-Germain x Reader

Prompt: kiss on the hand

Word Count: 353

Tags: fluff with the tiniest hint of spice at the end

“You look absolutely ravishing tonight.”

Comte was standing next to the carriage, his hand extended to you as he waited for you to make your way down the mansion steps.

You were alight with excitement as you held the hem of your new ball gown, careful not to trip in your new shoes. You paused as you slipped your gloved hand into his; his dazzling smile hid the hedonist lurking underneath the elegant black tuxedo.

“After you, ma chérie,” he said. Lifting your hand to his lips, he brushed a chaste kiss across your knuckles. Your cheeks flushed with warmth as he flicked his eyes up, his golden gaze burning with unbridled desire. 

It was cozy in the carriage when Comte slid into the seat next to you. With your bodies pressed together, the heat from his body quickly radiated to yours. When he placed his hand on your knee, flames of passion ignited in your core.

“I thought we'd start the celebrations early.” Comte reached for the bottle of champagne that was chilling in a bucket of ice on the seats across you. He opened the bottle with a loud pop, causing you to giggle as the champagne bubbled from the top of the bottle. Comte quickly filled two glasses, and handed one to you.

“Bonne année, ma chérie,” he whispered. 

“Happy New Year,” you whispered back as you clicked glasses. The champagne was light and sweet on your tongue. However, the cool liquid trickling down your throat did nothing to cool off your body.

By the time your glasses were drained, you had arrived at your destination.

“We're a bit early,” Comte commented as he took a peek outside. After shutting the curtains closed, he leaned his face dangerously close to yours, his large hand slowly sliding up your thigh.

He dipped his face a little closer, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing kiss. He pulled away, only a millimeter or two away – just enough to tempt you to lean in and kiss him. 

“I think we have a few minutes to kill before we have to go in.”

Tagging: @redheadkittys @kissmetwicekissmedeadly @chaosangel767 @ikehoe @kpop-and-otome @lucyw260 @queengiuliettafirstlady @kisara-16 @lordsisterxotome @umi-adxhira @crypticbibliophile @yarnnerdally @tele86 @nightfoxqueen @wendolrea @randonauticrap @judejazza @maries-gallery @xbalayage @xenokiryu @nightghoul381

#12 days of christmas #new year new celebration #ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #comte de saint germain #ikevamp comte #ikemen comte #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic

[cherryxblossxms]

Y, O, I for the NSFW ABC prompts for ikevamp Comte and Sebastian, please

Sure thing, nonnie! I'm always happy to give these two some love ❤️

Comte de Saint Germain

I for Imagination (What do they fantasize about?)

I answered that one here!

O for Oral (Giving or receiving? Why?)

This man is all about giving. Not that he doesn't go crazy when you decide to pleasure him, but he is a pleasure dom first and foremost. Your satisfaction is like a drug to him, nothing makes him happier than to have you writhing on his tongue, crying out his name as your thighs squeeze his head. He's addicted to the taste and feel of you, getting your sweet nectar on his tongue and feeling the way you twitch and pulse as he swirls his tongue around in torturous patterns. He's relentless, his vampire stamina almost dangerous, because it means he's ready to spend all night pleasing you with his tongue and not having to worry about catching his breath. And his vampire strength helps him hold down any flailing limbs, keeping you captive until he's totally satisfied.

Y for Yummy (How would they involve food/drinks?)

Comte would love to incorporate alcohol, likely champagne. He wouldn't mind just having it poured over your (or his, or both) body as is, uncaring of the wetness or sticky mess that it will leave, as he traces every rivulet with his tongue up and down your body. He knows his tongue is skilled and it let's him tease you and taste you all at once, getting the buzzy heat from the alcohol as he gets drunk in more ways than one. If he learns about jello body shots, good luck.

He's also very into the idea of aphrodisiacs, both foods that are supposedly natural aphrodisiacs such as oysters, figs, and chili peppers, as well as aphrodisiacs put into foods, such as some special chocolates or elixirs that can be mixed. He'll create a truly special plate of varying items to see what works best, what you enjoy the most or gets the most response from your body.

Sebastian

I for Imagination (What do they fantasize about?)

Sebastian admittedly fantasizes about fucking you in public areas. He can be very jealous, so truthfully, he'd never want to actually be caught, both due to the shame he'd feel as the butler but also because he doesn't want anyone else to see you in the throes of pleasure. But it doesn't stop him from picturing you bent over the dining table or the kitchen counter as he pounds into you from behind. Or maybe he'd be trailing his fingers along your sex as you try to wash the dishes, make it a game and see if you break any dishes, or how many dishes you manage to wash before you're begging for relief.

On rare occasion, he's imagined fucking you over Comte's desk, too, making a mess of the papers and making the room steamy. He wondered if the good Count would catch on to what happened later, his desk in disarray. And on even rarer occasion, he's admittedly imagined having a threesome with you and Comte. Moreso Napoleon pops into his thoughts, but he won't get into that.

O for Oral (Giving or receiving? Why?)

Sebastian is honestly for both. He loves giving and receiving in pretty equal measure.

As the butler of the mansion, he's no stranger to waiting on hand and foot for others, taking care of their needs as he saw fit and being the ideal comedic butler of his dreams. He has no difficulty including in sexual needs when it comes to you, especially after a hard day of running around completing errands when he finally has you all to himself. While he's still in uniform, he loves going down on his knees to service you, gloved hands wringing out all your tension and making you putty for him. Nothing gives him better satisfaction than seeing your wobbly smile and knees after he's had you cum at least a couple times.

However, despite wanting to be the ideal butler, Sebastian is still a man with needs of his own. He does love to be on the receiving end of oral a lot, too. After he's been run ragged cleaning up the mansion, cooking and fetching Rouge and Blanc all day, he wouldn't mind being taken care of, for once. It's incredibly satisfying for him to finally get to remove his uniform and just sit back as you pleasure him, to show you how he likes it, the parts of his cock that are most sensitive and how he likes it when you kiss around it, or twist your wrist a certain way as you stroke him.

Y for Yummy (How would they involve food/drinks?)

Sebastian would be similar to Comte. He's less knowledgeable on aphrodisiac foods in comparison, but he knows the big ones such as strawberries and chocolate. He'd love to get melted chocolate on your skin, scoop it up with a fruit and eat it, doing this to each other until you're squirming with need. He can be a tease when he wants to be, he's mastered control very well over the years, and it'd be easy for him to drive you wild with licking and sucking all over you until the chocolate is gone. If you try to do it back to him, though, you will be in for a treat with a very barely-restrained butler beneath you, face bright red and hard as a rock. And since he also manages the baths at the mansion, it'd be easy to wash off the mess in Le Thermae afterwards.

#comte de saint germain #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp comte #ikemen vampire #ikevamp smut #akihiko satou #ikevamp hcs #spicy minx 🔥 #the minx can write ✍️ #˗ˏˋ꒰ minx replies ꒱

[minefield-of-a-ninja]

Summary: Gabriela Cruz invests in a Victorian mansion in the middle of America where the rule of Buyer Beware is absolute. When her twin sister goes missing, a couple of federal agents show up. Lucky for Gabi, Dean and Sam Winchester are on the case.

Characters: Gabriela Cruz, Camila Cruz, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Ed Zeddmore, Harry Spangler

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, language, mentions death of family members, cursed object, mentions of blood + gore, sarcasm, twin dynamics, explicit sex

Words: 4,600

Author's notes: thank you, @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker as always for the pre-reads and support!

CAVEAT EMPTOR

I consider myself a strong, independent woman. I pay my own bills, put a little money away in savings every month, and I just recently took out a loan all by myself to buy an old Victorian mansion cum bed and breakfast in my hometown.

Which brings me to my first point — that most of the time, I think I’m rad as fuck. Then, once in a blue moon (literally, in this case), some guy finds his way into my life, and I personally end up winding back the advancement of women by a century for good dick.

It’s humiliating.

How, you ask? Well, let me tell you...

“When you said Victorian bed and breakfast, I thought it’d be all lace doilies and ornately carved wood. This place is sick!” 

Camila, my little sister by 15 minutes, had driven down from Minneapolis to help me move into my new home. We hadn’t seen much of each other in the past year because she was living with a man who considered our twin bond to be “unhealthy” (read: he’s a pissbaby.)

What he couldn’t wrap his tiny brain around was that Cami and I were not only twins, but we’d spent the entirety of our adult lives with only each other to call home. Our older brother was killed by a drunk driver, our mom by breast cancer, and our dad by colon cancer, all before we were old enough to vote.

Anyway, Camila told him he could stay in his glass box of a top-floor condo in the city while she popped down “just for the weekend” to help me unpack. Little did he know, she’d brought with her an obscenely priced bottle of pink Taittinger Comtes de Champagne 1973 from his wine cellar. 

“Camila Beatriz!” I cackled as I popped the cork.

She was living with a guy so worried about our “connection” that he never bothered to ask about her predilection to permanently borrow (her phrase, not mine) things from the men she dated.

“He’ll never miss it. Just pour.”

We sipped, kind of unpacked, nibbled on a fruit and cheese platter, and generally basked in each other’s presence. As we squeezed the last drops of pink bubbly from the bottle and the sun dipped below the horizon, I felt a chill. I assumed it was exhaustion, nerves, stress — whatever. 

“I’m tired, sissy,” Cami confessed. “Show me to my room, would ya?”

I did, giving her a long squeeze. “Thanks for coming, sissy,” I whispered in her ear. “Sleep sweet.”

I gave her a kiss on the cheek, and she kissed mine before I headed to my room to take a warm shower. Even though the chill never quite left me throughout slathering myself in lotion and wrapping up in my warmest pajamas, it didn’t occur to me that anything was off off.

Then, at midnight, when the third full moon of the season was at its fullest, I was awakened by a blood-curdling sound that seemed to hang in the air for hours after it was released.

“Camila!”

I bolted from the warmth of my bed, flung my heavy door open, and sprinted down the hall to where my sister was supposed to be sleeping. What I found inside that room can never be erased from the darkest corners of my mind.

There was blood everywhere — on the floor, the walls, the ceiling. The room was frigid and vibrating. I felt a presence that turned me inside out, and I started to sweat and heave, regardless of the temperature of the room.

“Cami!” I called out to her, receiving no reply. “Sister!”

I rushed further into the space as whatever it was that I felt began to recede.

“Camila! Where are you?”

I searched and cried, but my sister was nowhere to be found.

The police arrived within minutes, and neighbors hovered on the edge of the property, haphazardly bundled in robes and coats like vultures at the site of carnage. There were hushed whispers of a ghost, a ghoul, or dark spirits.

An ambulance came.

Once the police had questioned me, I was examined by the EMTs and given a sedative. I was told I was in shock. Someone asked if I had any relatives or friends in the area who could stay with me. 

I shook my head. “Cami’s my only family.”

The sedative dumbed me down more than anything. I wasn’t able to sleep or relax. Before dawn, two FBI agents appeared on the scene. The local police were reluctant to let them speak with me, but they somehow persevered.

“Ms. Cruz?”

I looked up to find a string bean of a dude with puppy-dog eyes and a tentative, soothing voice. He introduced himself as Agent Gass and his partner as Agent Black. He asked how much time I’d spent in the house.

“Not even a day.”

Both men nodded. 

I suppose it should have tipped me off that they were not run-of-the-mill federales since they didn’t seem at all surprised by my answer or the situation the way local law enforcement did.

“You just bought the place, right?” asked the other agent.

Until he spoke, I hadn’t realized how tightly wound I was with fear and grief. The quality of his voice had a visceral effect on my senses, like a deep tissue massage or an epic fucking orgasm. 

This man’s voice, you guys...

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision, then found that the face belonging to that voice was so beautiful I could no longer hold the tension in my body, and the tears began to flow.

(I know this sounds very dramatic, but I promise we won’t be spending much more time on the grim details. Also, don’t worry; Cami’s fine. I mean, she’s fucking traumatized, but it wasn’t her blood decorating the walls, is what I’m saying.)

The agents quickly bookended me. Agent Gass tugged a paper towel from the roll I’d left sitting on a side table the night before and handed it to me, muttering something about my nose and tears before Agent Black started talking again. 

“There’ve been reports of strange occurrences in this house for decades, but nothing violent.” He was so close that I could feel the rumble of each syllable like the hum of a lullaby or a stealth percussionist in the wild. “Have you witnessed anything out of the ordinary in the last 12 hours?”

I sniffled. “Besides all the fucking terrifying shit I’ve already told the cops?”

Agent Gass cleared his throat beside me. “We’re sorry, but we need to record our own findings. Do you mind telling us what happened?”

I rolled my eyes and blew my nose. “Fine,” I sighed, tossing the wadded-up snot rag into a nearby trash bag.

“It started when the sun set…” 

I recapped the evening’s events, groggily noticing once again that neither agent seemed nearly as taken aback as the local police.

“‘Blood-curdling sound’ — like a scream?” Agent Black’s question pinged in my brain while other parts of me continued to react to the sound of it. 

“I don’t know why I keep using that phrase... it wasn’t a scream, but... it woke me up, and I immediately knew something was wrong. I was chilled to the bone.”

Agent Black nodded. “You said you were cold before, so you took a shower. Was it the same kinda chill you felt when the sound woke you up?”

I shook my head, squinting to try and remember. “No... I- there’s cold chill and scared chill — I felt both at different times. I... I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Agent Black nodded, peeking over my head to his partner, and they exchanged a silent agreement.

I cannot stress enough how aggravated I am that I felt attraction at that moment. My twin sister was missing, and yet I couldn’t stop staring at his stupid mouth. At the time, I didn’t rationalize it at all, probably because of the drugs the EMTs gave me, but suffice it to say that Dean Winchester is a sorcerer. 

He pushed up from beside me, smoothing his tie and buttoning his suit jacket. “Thank you, Ms. Cruz. Try to get some sleep.” He made a subtle gesture to his partner, spurring him into action, then turned to survey the room with a narrowed gaze.

Agent Gass handed me a card. “Please give us a call if you think of anything else. We’ll be in touch.”

Well into the next day, my new home was under constant guard, filled by local law enforcement and various consultants. I didn’t see Agents Gass and Black again until two weird little guys with video equipment showed up. 

I walked out onto my side porch from the kitchen, wiping my hands on a dish towel, wondering what kind of new crew was on the case. By the time I made my way outside, Agent Black was there, hovering over the bearded guy with glasses.

“...I will shoot you, and you know I’m not fucking kidding,” he growled.

“Agent?” I asked, amused beyond reason at his violent threat and casually draping my dish towel over my shoulder. 

At this point, I’d been able to get some sleep and put a bit of time and space between my cognitive processes and the happenings surrounding Cami’s disappearance. So when that cocky little (there’s nothing little about Dean Winchester, OK, I’m being facetious) shit stretched those long, strong legs and climbed up onto my porch, I was fully aware and accepting of just how incredibly attracted to him I was.

He turned, his posture neutralizing and his eyes softening.

“Ms. Cruz. Yeah, hi...” He strode toward the porch. “Thought I’d stop by, see how you’re doin’.”

“Gabi, Agent.”

He grinned wide as he took the last step to stand in front of me, sliding his hands into his pockets and rocking to his heels and back. 

Such a little shit.

“Gabi… right.” He smirked, then glared over his shoulder at the newcomers. “These two botherin’ you?”

I peeked around him and shook my head before pulling back and looking him in the eye. “This’s the first I’ve seen of them. Coffee, Agent?”

He smirked. “Call me Dean.”

In hindsight, inviting him in for coffee was probably my first mistake. I could’ve offered coffee to him and those two boneheads from Wisconsin outside, but, as previously mentioned, I was busy derailing feminism. 

“How do you take it, Dean?” I asked, swiping one of the clean coffee mugs from an array of disorganized kitchenware yet to be shelved from the move. 

As I took the last two steps to my second-hand Nespresso machine, Dean remained silent, so I glanced over my shoulder before reaching for a coffee pod. He shook his head and blinked up from where he seemed to be mesmerized by something in the neighborhood of my hips.

“Black,” he answered with a lush, lopsided smile.

I nodded, then turned to focus on my task. “What brings you back this way? Is there something new with my case?”

“Uhh, yeah, actually — Agent Gass found some interesting things about the layout of this property on the county assessor’s website. D’you know this was a safe house in the Underground Railroad?”

“Yeah.” I turned and handed the agent his coffee. “That’s one of the reasons I bought it and one of the attractions of the bed and breakfast.” 

He thanked me for the cup, eyeing me closely. “So you’re aware of the secret passages in the home? In the room where your sister was sleeping the night she disappeared?”

I shook my head. “What? No. There’s no passageway in my sister’s room, only in the basement and the outbuildings.”

Dean shook his head, holding my gaze. “There’s a full network of passageways in the exterior walls of this house, Gabi,” he continued slowly and pointedly. “Your sister could be trapped. We’d like to take a look at the room again.”

(The next night, over a post-orgasmic cigarette, Dean told me all about another structure he and his brother had cleaned out and sealed off. Someone had erected an apartment building on the execution site of America’s first serial killer. Because Dean Winchester, in addition to being exasperatingly sexy and good with his hands, is a ghost and monster hunter with his brother not-Agent Gass, they come across this kind of thing all the time, I now understand.)

Five minutes after agreeing to let them explore the alleged secret passageways, Agents Black and Gass were sans jackets, rolling up their sleeves, and peering into the mouth of the Rosebud Suite’s small closet. 

“So...” I paused, absorbing the confirmation that all the things I feared went bump in the night and more are real. “What do you think you’re gonna find in there? A ghost? Vampires? My twin sister’s disembodied head?”

For the first time since meeting them, the agents looked at me in alarm. 

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Dean said, crossing the room to clasp a big, warm hand around my wrist and squeeze. “You’re twins?”

I nodded.

“Then if that twin stuff everybody talks about is real, you know she’s gonna be fine.” He smiled down at me with kindness. “All we know is that she’s missing, and we know the blood in the room is animal blood.”

Dean was right; I knew in my heart that Gabi would be fine, but as relieved as I should have been, I was suddenly much more disturbed on an entirely different level.

“Animal blood? No one told me this was animal blood. What the fuck is going on?!”

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Agent Gass appeared at Agent Black’s side, and they exchanged looks before Agent Black continued.

“I dunno why the police didn’t tell you about the animal blood. Maybe they didn’t want to alarm you-”

“Alarm me? I’ve been walking around here worried Camila’s guts were all over one of my guest room walls. I’ve taken sooo much Xanax since Friday night. Is there anything else alarming I should know about?”

They looked at each other again for a beat before Dean shrugged.

“Those two little weirdos outside?” 

“Yeah?”

“They picked up readings that indicate the presence of a cursed object as well as confirmation of human life other than those of us in plain sight.”

I sighed, dropping my eyes to where Dean helpfully caressed my wrist.

“I feel like I’m in catechism... what’s a cursed object?”

I didn’t pull away because, like I said, his caress was very helpful.

“Just like it sounds. Somethin’, usually old, that’s been loaded up with black magic. If we can find it, we can cancel out the magic-”

“Black magic?! Who the fuck- wait, old?” 

Dean nodded, and sadly, he released my wrist.

“Oh, my god, the wine!”

The agents perked up at that and exchanged more silent looks.

“Gabi... where’s the bottle?”

When I say that I am unreasonably attracted to Dean Winchester, this is what I mean: watching him and the clean-shaven Ghostfacer pepper and ash an empty champagne bottle in a graveyard after telling me said bottle was “cursed” should have made me worry about their and my eternal soul like any other good Catholic girl, but no — I still took him to bed. 

Once we found Cami, of course.

“Cayenne pepper. Interesting.”

Dean unwedged the shotgun from propping his trunk of many wonders open before dropping it shut. “Not just for cookin’.” 

He shifted and swayed and sighed as he slid his hands into his pockets and fixed his crinkly, sparkling gaze on me with a lick of his smug smirk.

“Sam?” I asked about his gigantic younger brother, who was back at the house with the other Ghostfacer, rescuing my sister. “Does he have Camila?”

Dean’s face lit up, and his eyebrows popped. “Oh, yeah. She’s good. She’s talkin’ to the police.”

I sighed. “I’d like to go home now.”

I must’ve looked like a frightened and exhausted child at that moment because Dean’s entire demeanor softened as he reached out to pull me in for a hug. His clothes and skin felt and smelled warm, and I started to cry into his white button-up. 

“It’s a lot to take in, I know, but I gotcha, sweetheart,” he murmured, holding me close. “You’re fine, and so’s Camila.”

This. Man.

This gorgeous, brave, smells-like-you-expect/hope/pray- for-Axe-body-wash-to-smell (but it doesn’t) man, holding me like a fragile doll and calling me sweetheart is the only man I have allowed to witness a sliver of vulnerability since my dad died. So you can imagine the abject horror I felt at the increasing flip-flop from my guts and the heat pulsing even lower. 

I’ve experienced attraction, okay? I’ve had romantic and sexual partners, I self-lubricate at appropriate times. I orgasm.

But the way Dean Winchester made me feel was so alarming that I have since added that feeling to the stack of alarming things happening after Camila and I opened that bottle of wine.

He loosened his embrace but didn’t pull away completely, looking down at me with curiosity in his tender gaze. “Let’s go.”

Dean ushered me to the front passenger door, opened it, and helped me inside. We were quiet as Dean drove back to my bed and breakfast. The silence allowed my thoughts to dance until he pulled into the alley behind my house.

“They’re just wrapping up with the cops,” Harry said, sliding forward with his phone in hand.

The lights were on inside. Sam was standing in the middle of the kitchen, behind Cami, with one hand on the back of her chair. She was wrapped in a blanket, nodding her head at the men on the other side of the table, and Ed was in the corner, pocketing his phone.

It was all so clear, and I couldn’t wait to get out of the car and inside to hug my sister. 

“Whoa, gotta put the car in park, sweetheart,” Dean chuckled, doing just that.

I guess I really couldn’t wait.

And then I was sprinting to the back door.

Like I said before, Cami is fine. She’s shook, but alive and breathing and not bleeding. I’ve never felt so sick and relieved at the same time or cried so hard. That experience didn’t only bag me the sexiest, warmest, most loving man alive, but it also further strengthened Cami and my priorities for each other. 

Dean kicked the cops out, and Sam made coffee for everyone (which Dean spiked). At some point, the little Ghostfacer dudes squirreled away into guest rooms for the night, Sam and Dean lost their ties, and Cami fell asleep draped across my lap where we were huddled in the front parlor.

“Sammy’ll put her to bed,” Dean whispered, gently tugging me to my feet as Sam indeed lifted Camila in a bridal carry. “Which room you want her in?”

“The one adjoining mine, east wing at the end of the hall.”

Sam nodded, and Cami mumbled, burrowing into his massive chest. He turned and swept toward and up the stairs into the quiet darkness.

“Is it really over?” I asked the house itself as much as Dean. Thankfully, only Dean answered.

“Yeah, it’s over.”

I turned to face him, heaving a sigh. He watched me with that same inquisitive expression as the one from the graveyard, this time with his hands in pockets, sock-footed, sleeves neatly cuffed to his elbows, crisp white collar open at his throat — and he looked like he belonged there in the center of my parlor.

“Agent Black-”

“Yeah... about that...” He dropped his eyes for a beat before looking me in the eye with a renewed spark. “We’re not really federal agents.”

You might think that another surprise would send a person careening into catatonia, but not me. No. No, no, I laughed. I started laughing because it was fucking absurd — the whole thing was berserk, right? 

Cursed objects? Cayenne pepper as some kind of supernatural DEET? This remarkably handsome man existing? I was being Punk’d, right? Is that show still running? What is Ashton Kutcher doing these days anyway?

The answer to me being Punk’d is no. You might want to Google Ashton Kutcher because I still don’t know what he’s doing these days. 

Do I sometimes still stop feeding my chickens to look up at the clear blue sky and pinch myself in case this is all a dream?

The answer to that is yes.

“My name’s Dean Winchester. Sam’s my brother. We've been hunting ghosts and demons and-”

“Demons?!”

The good Catholic girl inside me stammered over that, and Dean nodded slowly, blinking even more slowly as he took a step and reached for me.

“I’ll tell ya everything,” he said with a tired smile and an easy clasp of my hand. “D’you mind if we get a few hours’ sleep first?”

I didn’t mind.

I led him upstairs. We peeked in on Cami, where Sam was watching over her, stretched out on the chaise in that room. They were both fast asleep. 

Dean followed me to my room, and I didn’t think twice about stripping myself bare as I made my way to my ensuite. Before I could conjure any pesky stranger-danger excuses, his hands were on me under the hot spray of water.

The next day, Cami dumped her boyfriend. I have a feeling she’d have done it even if the deadbeat had been assed to make the trip south during her 36-hour absence, but his ineptitude made it easy.

Turns out, the brothers Winchester are more than okay with Cami and my connection. Turns out, they’re more than familiar with that kind of connection too.

Dean molds himself to my back, pressing kisses to the side of my neck and the parts of my shoulder that are bared by my tank top. 

“Almost done? Sammy’s makin’ breakfast.”

I hum, letting him swallow me up. “Shower first?”

Ever since that very first night, Dean and I have showered together just in case the water’s cursed, and if it isn’t? Conservation. Right?

Plus, we really like giving each other orgasms.

Five minutes later...

“God damn, I love your mouth,” I sigh as water sluices over my shoulders and spirals my arms before filtering into his hair, where he’s burying his face between my thighs.

Dean’s let his hair grow lately, giving me a lot more to grab onto, not that he needs direction. (He has a beard, too, which wouldn’t normally be my thing at all, but because I know what’s under there, I’m good with it.)

He hums and licks and moans and sucks. The pressure’s always just right — never too much or not enough. I’ve never had anyone down there who knew as much about eating pussy as Dean Winchester. He’s good with his hands, his dick, and toys, too, but man, he loves giving head and is a mother fucking pro at it.

“Dean,” I gasp and flail, nearly busting through the shower curtain and toppling over the end of the claw-foot tub to my death.

Dean lunges up and hooks an arm around my hips, gathering me closer, and I explode.

“Mmm, such a good girl, Gabriela.” He licks his lips as he drags me into the tub with him. Water beats down on his back as he notches his hips in the place his face just vacated. 

I toss one calf over the back of the tub and watch Dean grip his hard dick to slip and slide along my slit. 

“Don’t tease me, Dean. Get inside.” I thrust my hips and reach for him. 

He cocks a brow, lifting my other knee to drape over the other side of the tub, punching the curtain, and slopping water onto the floor. “Honey, I ain’t teasin’; I’m goin’ easy on ya.”

“Pfft!” Now I’m panting like a dog with my ass suspended three inches above the base of the tub. “Who asked you to take it easy on me? I sure didn’t.”

Dean smirks, wrapping one big hand around one hip and steadily guiding himself inside. 

“Fuck.” I drop my head to the porcelain under me and clamp my hands around the edges of the vintage bath to take what he gives.

Every time.

Every time, he feels so perfectly hardhotsmooth, so thick, so heavy. 

And I can’t not stare because he is perfectly beautiful.

“You’re so beautiful, Gabi,” he whispers as he slides his other hand around my other hip and grinds into me.

“Uhhh!”

We both groan, and my back arches all by itself.

He tells me I’m beautiful, and sometimes it feels like a lie — not because I think he’s dishonest but because Dean Winchester is the most beautiful man I’ve ever known.

He drags out slow, and thrusts back in hard and hot, swearing before biting his lip. 

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, tossing his head back into the fall of water before looking back down at me as he blinks water out of his eyes. Then he smiles wide and bright, almost like he’s laughing. “Hold on tight.”

I never take Dean’s warnings lightly.

He sets a hard rhythm, grunting with each thrust, and I echo.

“You look so good, baby — fuck me so good.” 

Dean’s a tough guy and everything, but he loves praise. I give him pet names and tell him how smart and strong he is. I am always sure to thank him for every little thing he does to help me. And he goes fucking crazy when I praise him for fucking me right.

“Give it to me,” I breathe, clenching around him. “I love your dick... so hard and thick — please, Dean.”

I can’t pretend with him, either. No praise I ever give him is lip service. I really do love his dick.

He pitches forward, bracing his hands on the edge above my head, stretched over me like a telephone wire, and that fucking shift-

“Hooofuck, I- ahh!” 

Dean arches and grinds up against my g-spot, pinning me in place until I burst.

“Yesyesyes!” Dean beats a hand against the side of the tub in time with my pulses and throbs around him. “Fuck, honey, yes.”

And then five minutes after that...

“All I’m saying is, if you want some alone time,” Sam actually uses air quotes. “Just say so, and we won’t wait. At the kitchen table. Directly beneath your bathroom.”

Dean rolls his eyes, and Cami and I stifle corresponding giggles.

“It’s not like I personally came down here and burned the toast,” Dean pretends to make sense as he folds a piece of bacon into his mouth. “Bacon’s good.”

He looks to me for agreement, and I nod. 

“It is good bacon!” Then I look at Sam. “We’ll be quieter next time.”

Cami guffaws. “No, you won’t!”

I playfully backhand her and shrug. “Probably not, but the bacon’s still good, and I love you guys.”

Sam snorts and shakes his head. “Yeah, OK, I love you, too, Gab.”

“Hey, don’t be gettin’ my girl mixed up with yours.” Dean mumbles around a mouth full of food as he stabs into his pile of fried potatoes.

I peek over at Camila and catch her looking at me. A memory flashes in my mind of pink bubbly and shivering myself to sleep and that awful fear that my sister was gone forever. Then, Camila blinks, and I’m filled with the warmth of knowing she would return to me and that we would both live happily ever after with the perfectly imperfect Winchester brothers from Lawrence, Kansas.

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#dean winchester smut

[ekman]

– Vous souvenez-vous des Fêtes de Noël au château, du temps de la douairière, ma chère grand-mère ? – Si je m’en souviens, Monsieur le Comte ! C’était, avec Pâques, le moment le plus important de l’année. Tout le domaine préparait l’évènement des semaines à l’avance. Les gens disaient “tiens, garde donc cela, mets-le de côté, nous en profiterons à la Noël”. Toutes les fermes sélectionnaient à partir de la mi-novembre ! Les viandes, les foies, les beaux légumes, les conserves... – Et les vins ! Nous visitions les caves avec mon père et mon oncle. Joseph suivait avec son chariot et disposait les cols choisis avec science. Jamais une de brisée ! – Oui, les vins... et les champagne, et les liqueurs pour ces dames ! Vous savez, Monsieur le Comte, le moment le plus émouvant c’était quand toute les familles du domaine, les fermiers, les métayers, les ouvriers des ateliers de Monsieur Charles et même certains journaliers, se rassemblaient dans la cour d’honneur, neige ou pas. – Combien pouvions-nous être alors ? Une cinquantaine ? – C’est monté à plus de quatre-vingt, Monsieur le Comte. – Le discours toujours bienveillant de mon père, ma grand-mère distribuant des babioles aux plus jeunes enfants, l’archevêque qui venait bénir tout le monde, même les communistes ! – Il y avait encore du respect de ce temps, Monsieur le Comte. Les gens avaient leurs idées mais les codes étaient respectés. De l’ordre, de la cohérence, aucune familiarité, juste de la bienveillance. Voilà ce qui tenait le domaine. – Vous avez raison. Il y avait cette équité par delà les opinions, les ambitions, les contrariétés... Le sentiment d’appartenir à une communauté, à une terre, à un monde qui gardait du sens, entre le calendrier chrétien et les saisons, le rythme de l’agriculture, les mariages aussi. Et les décès. Plus personnes ne vient se faire enterrer chez nous, vous avez remarqué ? – Je ne sais pas si l’on a encore le droit, Monsieur le Comte. En tout cas moi...  – Et moi aussi, soyez-en sûr. – Bien. Je vous attends vers 19h30 pour l’apéritif avec votre épouse ?  – Ce sera une joie et un honneur, Monsieur le Comte. – Puis nous dînerons avec mes autres invités et ce sera la messe de minuit avancée à 22h30 par commodité. Ce nouveau curé est déplorable. Il a une photo de François à la sacristie. Posée à côté de La Croix et Télérama. Ça ressemble de plus en plus à une kommandantur, son gourbi. – Oh, Monsieur le Comte... Paix aux hommes de... – De bonne volonté, oui, je sais.

J.-M.-M.

[ohtomatotome]

Watch

—----------

Title: “Watch”

Characters: Comte de Saint-Germain, Sebastian x Female Reader (Ikemen Vampire)

Word Count: 1,598

Rating: E

Tags: Jealousy, Unrequited love, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex

Trigger Warnings: Broken Trust?

Author’s Note: Part of #VisionsOfTemptation2022 for Kinktober (prompt credit to @xxsycamore ). This one is angsty. Why do I hurt Comte? I certainly don’t hate him. In fact, he’s my favorite character in the game.  It seems like everything I write for him has him either panicking, pining, pouting, or putting an end to a fight. Perhaps because in the game he appears serene and capable on the outside, so I enjoy seeing him struggle with something that really challenges his composure. 

Prompt Used: Voyeurism

—----------

It had started out so innocent, so seldom, so unattached.

When you arrived at the Parisian mansion in the 1890s, le Comte was the perfect host. He had assumed the father-figure role for most of the vampires there, and that same paternal regard was extended to you. You felt safe within his careful gaze. How could you know heat lurked beneath the gentle smile?

The truth was far more expansive than you ever realized. He was always watching.

When you were receiving idle flirtations from Arthur and Dazai, he had seen your flustered blush.

When Napoleon surprised you with his innocent morning kiss, he had been outside the door.

When you were relaxing in the thermae, he had hid himself in the corner obscured by steam and plants. Later that night would be the first in a countless string of nights he had jerked himself off while picturing you.

When you were trying so hard to impress Sebastian, he saw the determination on your face. 

When you had reached a boiling point of frustration with trying to understand your feelings for Sebastian, he watched you run to Leonardo for consolation. 

When a special spark of electricity passed between your gaze with Sebastian one evening at dinner, he didn’t miss it.

When you and Sebastian were working side by side in the kitchen and exchanging lingering glances and quick little kisses, he had been watching from the hallway.

He had been a silent witness to all your important moments in the mansion. He had held his tongue for too long and let the chance slip away. He could have easily made a romantic impression on you from the very beginning, sweeping you off your feet and making sure you looked at no one but him. 

But he hadn’t. 

That would have been selfish.

Besides, you would be leaving in one month, so what would have been the point to secure your affections?

How was he to know that the Door would malfunction for so long and trap you here in the past?

In the interim, you fell in love with Sebastian, and he with you. Everyone was happy for the both of you. It seemed only natural for the two humans to pair up. 

It would have been unnatural if you had chosen a vampire, to say nothing of a pureblood. 

Unnatural, indeed.

Never had jealousy felt so personal to le Comte.

When your relationship was becoming more intimate, you began fretting over the plain and matronly state of your underthings. They had been a bulk delivery of identical pieces that Comte bought as soon as you arrived. You hadn’t had a say in it. You were grateful at the time, but now you wish you had something a little more exciting to wear, since there was someone in your life who was going to see you naked. Eventually. 

Le Comte watched you grumbling as you pawed through her dresser. Of course he was there, out in the hall, watching. “Would you like something new? Any particular item in mind? Let me buy it for you. Come, ma cherie, let’s go shopping.” 

He watched you run your hand over the silk drawers and camisoles in the shop. His vivid imagination pictured your shapely form being hugged by that champagne fabric, visualized your hand gliding down his own bare stomach and reaching lower, the new light of dawn dappling your skin. 

“Monsieur?” Your perky voice brought him out of his reverie.

Of course he had to have you try them on to make sure they fit. He insisted on standing guard right outside the dressing room. He smirked as he heard the rustle of fabric and your delighted cooing. There was immense pleasure to be taken in the knowledge of you wearing the lingerie at his request first, before Sebastian ever got to see them. And even greater pleasure knowing that he was the one purchasing the items that would be closest to your nakedness.

—------

He also happened to watch as you boldly led a red-faced Sebastian into your room one night. 

Le Comte decided to indulge his own selfish fantasies for once. As soon as you closed your door, he silently locked himself in the room next to yours. This unused room held a secret known only to him: a peep hole through the back of the closet that was hidden behind the tapestry hung in your room, threads strategically thinned out in that exact spot. The surveillance was originally needed for a suspicious house guest Comte did not trust. He hadn’t used it in decades. 

His watchful eyes were on your every move as you began to loosen your layers of constrictive clothing, shimmying out of them until you were only clad in the very same lingerie he had bought you. Le Comte observed this fact with pride and satisfaction. And envy. Always envy, that ever-present thorn in his heart.

You encouraged Sebastian to undress next, kissing him as he undid his many buttons and snaps. Now the two of you are just in your underwear, the candlelight and moonlight cooperating to give your curves the most delectable shadows and highlights. You made a slow show of removing the silk slip until the only thing touching your skin was the pale light.

Le Comte longingly contemplated your bare beauty and silently cursed the butler for not grabbing your hips to see how the plump flesh gave under the pressure of a squeeze. He heard you say something in a low, sultry voice, but even with vampiric hearing could not make out all the words. The hungry tone, however, was unmistakable. It waltzed down his spine deep into his belly. That tone was the last inducement he needed before unbuttoning his pants and taking out his member, already stiffening and begging to be stroked.

Sebastian didn't need any further coaxing either. After you laid on the bed he began working between your legs with his mouth and fingers, making up for with enthusiasm what he lacked in experience. Le Comte watched your lips with rapt attention, how they opened and closed around silent gasps. Each inhale of yours was matched with a stroke of his hand down his cock. Sebastian continued until you were mewling and your thighs started to twitch involuntarily with pleasurable spams. 

You pleaded in a husky voice for your lover to fill you, clutching at his hair and tugging him up towards your body. Le Comte had to be careful now, his heavy breaths were difficult to keep silent. He strained to see your face as Sebastian entered you. Exquisite. Sublime. Perfect.  The low moan you let out was enough to shake Comte so badly he had to hold onto the wall for support before he erupted. He was close, but he wanted to hold out as long as possible and cum at the same time as you.

Sebastian staggered the pace of his thrusting, sometimes fast and hard, sometimes slow and deep. Comte tried to time his fist strokes along with your sounds, imagining it is him that was making her sound so wanton and needy. In his fantasy, you had always come to his room when you needed consoling. It was his shoulder that you had cried onto. It was his arms that you found solace. It was his eyes that you desperately wanted to capture. It was his heart that you fought to uncover. It was his soul that you had desired. It was him that you loved. Him. Not Leo, not Sebastian, not anyone else. He was the only one who gave you everything you needed.

Right at that moment, he closed his eyes as his mind was painting a picture of the two of you making love in the garden gazebo at midnight. He could almost smell the night-blooming phlox and hear the crickets. You’re lying beneath him, gazing up at him with eyes full of love and lust. Oh! If only you had ever looked at him like that, just once. Just once. Just…

Your sighs and gasps turned breathier and higher-pitched. Le Comte knew you must be close to a climax. He resumed a rapid motion on his shaft, eagerly awaiting that triumphant sound. He peered through the hole once more to see your back arching off the mattress, legs wrapped around Sebastian, mouth open in a silent pull of air, and then – your little shriek that almost made his dick jump out of his hand. Your following moan was all he needed to chase his own finish. He had a handkerchief ready and caught every drop as his chest shuddered with shaky breaths. 

The guilt was immediate. He felt dirty and despicable to his core. A sudden gloom overtook him as he splayed a palm out against the wall for support. The elegant mouth turned down in utter disgust at himself.

What was he doing?

You had trusted him. You looked up to him as a benefactor, as the respected master of the manor. As a friend. 

And this was how he repaid your trust?

Deplorable. Sickening. Unforgivable. Reprehensible. 

Self-hatred and self-pity overwhelmed him. He buttoned up his fly and stuffed the soiled handkerchief into a pocket.

He could hear the couple renewing their love-making as he silently moved out of the closet and into the dark room. Anguish pierced his chest. Shame soured his mind. He didn’t know how long he sat in that room, letting the sounds of bed springs and pleasurable grunts float over him, wishing for something that would never be.

#ohtomatotome #my fanfic #ikevamp #kinktober 2022 #kinktober #visions of temptation 2022 #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp sebastian x mc #ikemen vampire comte #ikemen vampire le comte #le comte de saint-germain #ikevamp abel #ikevamp saint-germain #ikemen vampire saint-germain

[squeakowl]

David Austin Roses

Varietals; left to right, top shelf to bottom shelf -

Top row: Crocus Rose, Vanessa Bell, The Pilgrim, Windrush, Malvern Hills, Molineaux Center row (top): Carding Mill, Tea Clipper, Teasing Georgia, Crown Princess Margareta, Golden Celebration, Jude the Obscure, Evelyn, Allux Symphony Center row (bottom): Benjamin Britten, Boscobel, Princess Alexandra of Kent, Lady of Shallott, Grace, The Lark Ascending, Comtes de Champagne Bottom row: Wildeve, Abraham Darby, Janet, Queen of Sweden, Shropshire Lass, Belle Story, Heritage

(source)

#rose #roses #summer #cottagecore #flowers

[itsnothingbutluck]

Listen and learn how to say 70 of the most FAMOUS CHAMPAGNE names correctly with French winemaker Julien, "how do you pronounce" free pronunciation audio/video tutorials. The Champagne pronounced in this video include: French pronunciation including the following Champagnes houses: Abelé (Sourire de Reims, owned by Freixenet), Armand de Brignac (Ace of Spades) Ayala (Grande Cuvée),Bollinger, Billecart-Salmon (Clos St Hilaire), Boizel, Lanson, Bollinger (Vieilles Vignes Françaises,R.D. (Récemment Dégorgé), Bruno Paillard (Nec Plus Ultra), Canard-Duchêne, Cattier (Clos du Moulin, Charles Heidsieck (Blanc des Millénaires, Cheurlin, Comte de Dampierre, De Castellane, De Cazanove, De Telmont, De Venoge, Delamotte, Desmoulins, Deutz (Amour de Deutz), Louis Roederer, Duval-Leroy (Femme de Champagne), Henri Giraud, Gosset Alfred Gratien, Heidsieck & Co Monopole Irroy Jacquart (Cuvée Alpha), Jacquesson, Jacquinot & Fils, Jean Jacques Lamoureux, , Jeeper (Grande Réserve Chardonnay) Joseph Perrier, Krug (Vintage, Clos du Mesnil clos ambonnay owned by LVMH Louis Vuitton Moet Hennessy), Charles Lafitte, Lallier Lanson Laurent-Perrier Lombard & Cie Marie Stuart (Cuvée de la Sommelière), G.H. Martel & Co., Mercier ,, Moët & Chandon (Épernay), Dom Pérignon, Moutard-Diligent, GH Mumm (Mumm de Cramant, Pernod Ricard), Perrier-Jouët (Belle Époque), Philipponnat (Clos des Goisses), Piper-Heidsieck (rare), Pol Roger (Sir Winston Churchill), Pommery, Ruinart, Louis de Sacy, Salon (Le Mesnil-sur-Oger), Laurent-Perrier, Taittinger (Comtes de Champagne), Thiénot (Cuvée Alain Thiénot, Stanislas, Garance) , Veuve Clicquot Ponsardin (carte jaune, yellow label, rich reserve), vranken, De sousa, AR Lenoble, Louis Roederer Cristal, Soutiran, Gardet, Gremillet, Janisson et Fils, Mansart Baillet, N. Gueusquin, Cuperly, Chaudron, Nicolas Feuillate.

#Classy Pronunciation | Famous Champagne Brands #Youtube

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 22 November 1833

8 ½

3 50

much rain in the night – small rain then fair and very fine at 10am.  this morning F49° at 9 ¼ am breakfast at 9 40 – had my new cook etc. that not out till 10 40 walked leisurely to ½ way between the ½ and ¾ milestone on the Roskilde road and back at 12 50 – dressed – M. Fallesen came before 2 and staid about an hour – thinks Holsts’ carriage a 4 places will do very well – a little talk of politics – I see M. F- is of the liberal party, tho’ like everybody thinks the King an excellent man – he gives too much away – gets the kingdom into debt more and more every year – a constitution would be good if it enabled the people to see a little into the state of the national finances – began copy of letter to Washington Eugenie put my hair in papers – changed my stays M. Causse did my hair at 4 ¼ and put in white leathers in 25 minutes very well – dinner at 5 – afterwards finished [Launy]’s little history of Denmark till 6 ½ - dressed – off to the Bluchers’ at 7 50 to go with them to court – in honour of prince Ferdinands’ birthday – at 7 ¼ - Comtesse B- had not begun to dress – not off till very near 8 – few people there – about 50 ladies – twice as many gentlemen? pleasant evening – supper at 12 – very little with the B-s – much with Mrs. Hockschilde [Hochschild], Mademoiselle d’Oxholm, and Madame Pauli – went out to supper with comte Yalde and sat between him and the grand marshal M. Haucke – comte took out Mrs. Stuart Courtenay – sorry for himself – so would amuse himself and made her drink 6 glasses of champagne, 2 of Madeira, and one of Malaga! – Comtesse de Blucher and Madame de Billé Brahe etc. at the same table with her and said they should never forget it – Rainy evening and night – home at 2 ¼ tonight – F57° now at 3 ¼ tonight

[lepartidelamort]

Le château de Saint-Germain-en-Laye et le châtiment des juifs de Bray-sur-Seine

Pour le grand public, la ville de Saint-Germain-en-Laye est le centre d’entraînement du PSG ou le lieu de la fête millénaire des Loges, avec ses attractions populaires.

« La fête des Loges c’est depuis 1138, à l’époque c’est Saint Louis qui a lancé la première... »

Une fête très familiale à ne pas confondre avec la foire du Trône, cette rencontre annuelle de la racaille à la porte Dorée.

Pour le petit public, plus cultivé, Saint-Germain est la ville du fameux château où se reposaient des rois de France, aujourd’hui remplacé par le fort de Brégançon et la Lanterne (à Versailles), où le couple du prince et de la régente, Brigitte 1er, fuient les caméras.

C’est aussi là que le fils de François Hollande, l’avocat antiraciste Thomas, recevait ses copines et ses copains pour des parties pas très fines. Aujourd’hui, enfin, depuis 150 ans, le château est devenu un musée d’archéologie nationale, après avoir été désossé de ses dépendances – vendues au plus offrant – lors de la Révolution. Fin de la parenthèse culturelle républicaine.

C’est sur Wikipédia, qui recèle des trésors à la fois involontaires et intacts, que Jean-Michel Vernochet a déniché une sacrée perle...

Philippe Auguste construit en pierre une tour logis et entoure le palatio d’un mur de fortification. « À son retour de croisade, le roi était venu se reposer à Saint-Germain-en-Laye de ses fatigues, et, le 18 mars 1192, il en partit précipitamment, à l’insu de ses courtisans, pour aller à Bray-sur-Seine pour faire bonne justice de quelques juifs qui avaient mis à mort un chrétien. » En effet, en 1191, un Juif avait été tué par un chrétien qui, selon le chroniqueur Guillaume Le Breton dans sa Vie poétique de Philippe-Auguste, se trouvait incapable de rendre avec intérêts l’argent qu’il avait emprunté. Agnès de Baudement, connue sous le nom de Comtesse de Braine, mère de Robert de Dreux, faisait sa résidence à Bray au mois de mars 1191 peu avant Pâques. Des commerçants juifs avaient obtenu d’elle, au moyen de remises commerciales considérables, qu’elle leur livre le prisonnier. Ils s’emparèrent de lui et le conduisirent sur une place, où, après l’avoir publiquement dépouillé ils lui avaient attaché les mains derrière le dos et mis une couronne d’épine. Les Juifs l’avaient ensuite conduit par tout le bourg en l’accablant de coups de fouet, afin d’impressionner les autres habitants, puis ils l’avaient pendu. Arrivé à Bray, le roi Philippe-Auguste fit placer des gardes aux portes, se saisit de tous les Juifs, et en retint quatre-vingts qu’il condamna à être brûlés sur la même place.

Pour les juifs, il s’agissait d’une rumeur

À l’époque médiévale, se trouvait tous les 20 kms une communauté juive ou un groupement de Juifs. Ce qui permettait à un commerçant de se rendre d’une ville à une autre dans une seule journée et de pouvoir rentrer chez lui pour le Chabbat. Entre la Champagne, la Brie et le Gâtinais, il est facile de repérer les toponymes juif tels « Rue des Juifs », « Rue de la Juiverie », et notamment à Provins, Bray-sur-Seine, Coulommiers, Brie-Comte-Robert, Sens, Melun, Ivry-sur-Seine, etc. (...) Au XIIe siècle, Bray-sur-Seine avait une importante communauté juive, y compris les rabbins tels que Jacob le Tossafiste, et R. Isaac. Plusieurs commentateurs sont nés dans cette ville, tels R. Matathia et Phineas, et il y avait aussi quelques Juifs très riches. En 1191, après le meurtre d’un Chrétien qui avait lui-même tué un Juif, la rumeur courut qu’il aurait été crucifié par ces derniers. Aussi, sur ordre du roi Philippe Auguste, une centaine de Juifs furent brûlés dans cette ville en représailles. D’autres Juifs, pour refus de baptême, se laissent égorger. Après le bannissement de 1306, les Juifs reçurent l’autorisation de retourner s’installer à Bray-sur-Seine. (kkl.fr)

Cette histoire, incroyable aujourd’hui, nous rappelle le bûcher des 200 Talmud à Paris, (le livre était accusé d’être un substitut à la Bible), ordonné en 1242 par Saint Louis (Louis IX). Le Talmud avait été déclaré « infâme » par le tribunal. Les rabbins qui avaient défendu l’ouvrage lors du procès se barrèrent ensuite en Palestine.

Sept siècles, sept décennies et sept années plus tard (777 ans, d’après les calculs de Jovanovic), ce sera le grand incendie de Notre-Dame, soit le symbole de la chrétienté qui part en fumée.

Enfin, quatre ans après ce bûcher aux criminels fantômes, la Palestine est attaquée par les descendants de juifs d’Europe de l’est et du Maghreb, principalement, qui ont pris possession de ce pays arabe en 1948, suite à des tractations avec les autorités britanniques. Ces militaires qui assassinent des civils par milliers sont-ils influencés par le Talmud ? C’est toute la question.

E&R

#e&r #Youtube

[mustafaalgunblog]

A Walking Tour in the Legendary Neighborhood of Montmartre in Paris.

These words come to mind when Paris is mentioned.

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[latribune]

[sandratognarini]

Il Comtes de Champagne Grands Crus Rosé Maison Taittinger

Il Comtes de Champagne Grands Crus Rosé Maison Taittinger Scopri il millesimato che esprime l’eleganza e la personalità della Maison Taittinger in un Rosé di gran classe Comtes de Champagne Grands Crus Rosé: il millesimato che incarna il connubio tra Pinot Noir e Chardonnay C’è stata molta attesa per Se ami lo #Champagne, non puoi perderti il #ComtesDeChampagneGrandsCrusRosé, il millesimato che esprime l’eleganza e la personalità della #MaisonTaittinger in un Rosé di gran classe. 🥂 Scopri la sua composizione, le sue caratteristiche organolettiche, il suo affinamento e i suoi abbinamenti con l’alta cucina. 🍽 https://ramingare.com/?p=7882 #PinotNoir #GrandsCrus #Cuvée #Millesimato #Terroir #Vendemmia #Effervescenza #Aromi #Tannini #Affinamento 🍇😊 ... Read the full article

[likarotarublogger]

Le 1er juillet, le mariage "princier" de Diane et Kévin a eu lieu à Épernay, leurs invités étaient vêtus de couleur "champagne" où ils ont scintillé toute la nuit.

Le 30 juin, Diane et Kévin ont célébré leur cérémonie civile à la mairie de Reims, entre membres de la famille, parents et amis, ils se sont déclaré leur véritable amour en prononçant un oui décisif des deux âmes à la vie pour le meilleur ou pour le pire. La soirée avec les invités s'est poursuivie dans une belle cave à champagne, de la musique, de la nourriture et beaucoup de champagne jusqu'à minuit.

Le lendemain, les mariés se sont présentés devant l'ancien château Louis Vuitton. La cérémonie religieuse a eu lieu dans la chapelle du château. L'histoire du château.

Son portrait peint par Franz Xavier Winterhalter (1805-1873) qui fut également portraitiste de la reine Victoria, impératrice d'Autriche, ainsi que de nombreuses familles royales européennes, se trouve aujourd'hui dans les salles du château. .

Il a également été décidé que son nom figurerait sur des cuvées prestigieuses pour perpétuer le symbole de qualité et d'élégance à l'origine de notre Maison. La famille Comte Lafond, défenseurs des grandes traditions viticoles françaises, a insufflé une élégance unique aux Champagnes "Comtesse LAFOND" par le savoir-faire et la passion.

De l'extra brut au rosé, les Champagnes Comtesse Lafond se distinguent par leur caractère et leur finesse. Les chais du Château nous permettent d'exprimer au mieux les qualités aromatiques de nos cuvées.

Son portrait peint par Franz Xavier Winterhalter (1805-1873) qui fut également portraitiste de la reine Victoria, impératrice d'Autriche, ainsi que de nombreuses familles royales européennes, se trouve aujourd'hui dans les salles du château. .

Il a également été décidé que son nom figurerait sur des cuvées prestigieuses pour perpétuer le symbole de qualité et d'élégance à l'origine de notre Maison. La famille Comte Lafond, défenseurs des grandes traditions viticoles françaises, a insufflé une élégance unique aux Champagnes "Comtesse LAFOND" par le savoir-faire et la passion.

De l'extra brut au rosé, les Champagnes Comtesse Lafond se distinguent par leur caractère et leur finesse. Les chais du Château nous permettent d'exprimer au mieux les qualités aromatiques de nos cuvées.

La maman et le papa de Diane un message pour votre mariage.

Amor eterno “Diane et Kévin “

“Une belle vie, c’est celle qui commence par l’amour et qui finit par l’amour”

“Le couple heureux qui se reconnaît dans l’amour défie l’univers et le temps; il se suffit, il réalise l’absolu”

famille de Colombie Myriam, Claudio, Samuel envoient ce message aux nouveaux mariés

Os deseamos que vuestro matrimonio sea feliz y pleno de amor y alegría. ¡Muchas Felicidades!

Parentes d'Italie Salvatore Braca.

Un sì che segna il primo passo di un lungo cammino tutto da vivere. Siate sempre così innamorati e complici, sostenendovi quando le difficoltà della vita si presenteranno e sembreranno farvi vacillare. Il vostro amore sarà sempre più forte di tutto. Buon cammino.

Elena Rodica Rotaru de Roumanie

Dragi tiner însurăței, vă felicităm sincer cu ziua nunții! Fiți univers, energie nesfârșită, stele și galaxii, dragoste curcubeu, sprijin de încredere și orizont nesfârșit unul pentru celălalt. Rămâneți împreună indiferent de circumstanțele vieții, învățați să cedați unul altuia. Fiți înțelepți, blânzi și plini de bunătate. Fiți recunoscători și aveți grijă de iubirea voastră.

article de @likarotarublogger @elenarodicarotaru-blog

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