#enlevée

[letssiweulnetus]

Kaolack : Fatou Samb, âgée de 17 ans enlevée, sauvagement violée puis tuée à Ndiockel

Kaolack : Fatou Samb, âgée de 17 ans enlevée, sauvagement violée puis tuée à Ndiockel

Le corps sans vie de Fatou Samb a été retrouvé jeté dans la brousse à Ndiockel, situé à la sortie de Kaolack. Selon ‘’Libération’’ qui donne la nouvelle dans sa parution de ce mercredi, la dame, âgée de 17 ans et demeurant à Kaolack a été enlevée, sauvagement violée puis tuée. D’après le journal, plusieurs traces de blessures ont été constatés sur le corps sans vie acheminé à Dakar pour une…

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#enlevée #Fatou Samb #Kaolack #Ndiockel #tuée #violée

[mudwerks]

Fernando Botero - Woman Abducted by the Demon (1979)

#Woman Abducted by the Demon #Fernando Botero #1979 #art #FEMME ENLEVÉE PAR LE DÉMON

[chifourmi]

Sur Tiktok y a une trend qui dit "tes 10 dernières photos sans visages dessus décrivent ta vibe" et j'ai envie de ramener ça ici donc je le fais et si ça vous amuse faites le aussiii

(11/08/2023)

#bon j'ai juste enlevé les doublons sinon c'est chiant #je suis ultra fan du cookie #p

[soeurdelune]

chaque nouvelle mise à jour de google images me donne envie de jeter mon ordi dans un volcan

#ils ont enlevé l'outil dont je me servais le plus #reverse search #en tout cas sur firefox je ne sais pas pour les autres navigateurs #obligée d'installer 2974 extensions maintenant #blabla

[maviedeneuneu]

Ptits souvenirs et anecdotes de mon expérience chez Ryanair

Quand j'y suis retournée pour rendre mon uniforme j'ai eu l'honneur d'avoir un mini entretien (à l'arrache dans les vestiaires) avec Silvia la cheffe que je détestais au cours duquel elle m'a donné une note pour mon travail accompli durant ces 5 mois. Après m'avoir dit que j'allais leur manquait elle m'a sorti "en tout cas tu sais que tu reviens quand tu veux, la porte sera toujours ouverte" et elle m'a fait un câlin pour me dire au revoir

#encore une fois la grosse blague #non mais lol #la meuf a tout fait pour m'emmerder et me rabaisser pendant 5 mois #et là elle fait genre jte kiffe #j'avais jamais vu ça auparavant le fait d'être noté pour ton taf #à la mairie certes on fait des entretiens annuels #mais on nous note pas genre sur 20 ou quoi #là je crois que j'avais eu genre 97/100 il me semble #ils m'avaient enlevé 2 points parce que j'avais été absente 2 jours quand j'avais été malade #alors que je leur avais ramené un certificat et tout #et ils avaient dû m'enlever 1 point pour le retard de 5 minutes #lol

[culmaer]

I've had the loveliest weekend. truly restorative and grounding and happy. I cut my left thumb quite badly, definitely won't be able to play recorder until it's healed, but I'm at peace. I can practice trombone instead ^_^

and then. literally as I'm on my way home, work calls for the most stupid reason and I'm trying desperately for this not to ruin my mood. I'll be in the office tomorrow. leave me alone.

#en outre #mon ami.e va bien #ou mieux en tout cas #quel soulagement ! #lui rendre visite a enlevé le grand poids inquiet de mes épaules

[thesquidkid]

après cnews qui dit que l'avortement est la première cause de mortalité, la constitutionnalisation de l'IVG est une très très bonne nouvelle

#je sais cest pas la fin des galères et y a bcp d'endroits ou avorter cest pas évident #mais juste le fait de savoir que ca va rentrer dans la constitution et que ca pourra pas nous être enlevé #ca rassure pas mal deja #(par contre cnews me terrifie je deconne a peine) #upthebaguette #ivg

[iweb-rdc001]

Décrispation de l'espace politique en RDC : Nestor Kipalomoto, un des communicateurs du PPRD enlevé par des hommes armés, le parti de Kabila pointe d'un doigt-accusateur le régime

La parti politique de Joseph Kabila indique que Nestor Kipalomoto a été enlevé par des hommes armés dans la soirée du lundi 11 septembre à Kinshasa. Le PPRD rapporte que ces personnes à l’origine de la disparition de leur camarade étaient en civil mais lourdement armés avec les allures des agents des services spécialisés. Et, l’ancienne formation au pouvoir soutient que Nestor Kipalomoto serait…

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#Décrispation de l&039;espace politique en RDC : Nestor Kipalomoto #le parti de Kabila pointe d&039;un doigt-accusateur le régime #un des communicateurs du PPRD enlevé par des hommes armés

[maraboutbadou]

COMMENT ATTIRER LA CHANCE ET SE DÉBARRASSER DE LA MALCHANCE ?

COMMENT ATTIRER LA CHANCE ET SE DÉBARRASSER DE LA MALCHANCE ?

COMMENT ATTIRER LA CHANCE ET SE DÉBARRASSER DE LA MALCHANCE L’Être humain conçu comme un tout, fabrique, par le libre emploi que fait sa volonté, des éléments qui lui sont confiés, de la chance ou de la malchance pour son évolution future. C’est le libre arbitre qui règle lui-même la destinée.La malchance persistante est à même de gâcher totalement une vie, d’en faire un chaos informe et…

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#12 Techniques Pour se Débarrasser de la Malchance #Comment attirer la chance #COMMENT ATTIRER LA CHANCE ET SE DÉBARRASSER DE LA MALCHANCE #Comment avoir plus de chance au quotidien #Comment Retirer le Mauvais Oeil #comment se d debarsser de la malchance #comment se debarasser de la malchance #comment se purifier #Comment vous débarrasser de la malchance #Le rituel pour stopper la malchance #marabout voyant badou #rituel pour enlevé la malchance #talisman de chance #talisman de protection

[velvetsainz]

summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] corsica continues to inspire, even when away from the heat of the sun. part of the hot monaco nights series.

word count: 2.8k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), a lil hint of plot, use of explicit language, unprotected sex (plan appropriately, folks), p in v, creampie, oral (f!receiving), google-translated french (i cannot and will not be stopped), em dashes strike back, once again time is a social construct

a/n: more horny fuckers in corsica (crowd cheers)! longest one yet!! struggled getting this written but ultimately happy with how it turned out, so hopefully y'all are, too. my biggest thanks as always to @lecrep @leclerc-hs @multiseb21 for their support & encouragement 🤍 enjoy, bbys! xx

As always, this was Charles's fault.

Well, kinda.

Okay, not at all, but, like, that’s beside the point.

What the point actually was that this was your favorite way to have him.

His hands gripped tightly into the plush of your hips, thumbs guiding the way your pelvis lazily drew patterns.  His cock was hard and hot and buried deep inside you, and the Monégasque was fighting all of his instincts not to roll the two of you over so he could find a way to sate the burning heat in his own core.

“Chérie,” he whined, hazel eyes still heavy-lidded as he’d only awoken a short while before.  Other parts of him had been awake for much longer, though, given the way he’d been grinding his cock against your ass before you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Relax, baby,” you chided with a heavy sigh, one hand on his toned chest while the other toyed with your pearl.  “You’re on holiday—enjoy it.  We don’t have anywhere to be.”

“But this is torture, mon cœur,” the man groaned, hands trying to urge you faster.  Still, you resisted and shot him a devilish look.

“This,” you rolled your hips tightly and flexed your walls around his throbbing member, “is nothing.  I can make it torture if you’d prefer that, though, hm?”

He let out a frustrated sound through his nose, a groan stifled in his throat.  His hands traced over the tanned expanse of your thighs before trailing to the small of your back under the faded oversized shirt of his you’d donned after he’d fucked you within an inch of your life the night before.

“At least let me kiss you, hm? Donne-moi quelque chose, s'il te plaît,” Charles nearly begged, the French tumbling from his lips as you ground yourself in slow, lazy circles.  He needed more—more friction, more skin, more touch, anything.  He wasn’t one to beg, usually, but he was more than willing in this instance.

“So needy,” you teased, but the way his hands tangled in your hair and his tongue slid against your own had your hips bucking in such a way that gave away your hand; you had a straight flush but his was royal.  A choked sound left the back of your throat as you moved your hips quicker, one of the hands in your hair moving to grab the flesh of your ass to urge you on.

As you pulled away for a moment, Charles didn’t waste his chance and used his other hand to pull back the hem of the t-shirt you wore and latch his plump lips to one of your pert nipples in a way that made your toes curl and your eyes close tight as stars sparked.

“Fuck,” you swore, “I–”

“So needy,” he teased like an absolute little shit before you swatted at his head and he took his golden opportunity.

Banding an arm around your back, the driver pulled you tight to his chest and planted his feet into the bed before driving his hips up into your own in a way that made your insides feel like molten lava. With a filthy cry, you grabbed tight to the sheets on either side of your boyfriend as he set the new pace.

“Je pensais que je te l'avais enlevé hier soir,” he grunted in your ear as he speared against something blindingly delicious within you, and his hand palmed at your ass with your tits pressed tight against his chest.  You knew it was good for him, too, when he started slipping into Italian, blurring the lines between the languages he knew so well until they were practically an unintelligible mess.

“Charles–I’m gonna—ah!,” you started to warn as the edges of your vision blurred and the heat in the pit of your core started seeping through the cracks in your bones.

“Je sais, minette,” he grit as he felt your cunt spasm tightly around him, his own orgasm careening towards him at a blinding speed like an avalanche in the Dolomites.  “Putain–,” he swore as his hips bucked spasmodically into you, pressing into the wet velvet heat as far as your core would allow as every part of him chased whatever would bring him closer to his completion.

You felt him shudder beneath you as his hands held you tight against him; he wanted to feel all of you, and you certainly were in no place to complain as your own orgasm started to recede.  You basked in the warmth of one another, the way your hips slotted so perfectly against his, how your hearts pounded against each other’s chests.

Part of you didn’t want to break the blissful quiet of the post-orgasm glow, but your pride had other qualms.  “You’re a sore loser, you know that?,” you teased as you rolled partway off your partner, hissing as you lost the comfortable stretch of his cock inside of you.

Chuckling softly, he shrugged as he turned his head to the side to see your heavy eyes.  “I have no idea what you are talking about—I was simply exercising a-a new strategy!”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.  “You are unbelievable, Leclerc.”

“Unbelieve...ably good?,” he asked with a stupid grin that made you roll your eyes once more before you leaned in to kiss him once again.

“Unfortunately yes–”

“Say no more!,” he beamed before shooting out of bed, reinvigorated.  He disappeared for a few moments, your eyes closing as sleep tempted you once more.

You heard him pad back in and around to the side of the bed you’d rolled to, something warm and wet touching the inside of your thigh.  Gently, he cleaned you with a warm washcloth before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Sleepyhead,” he teased gently as you popped your eyes open for just a moment to peek at him as he went about the room, tidying up from the night before.  You two had gotten a bit…wild, to put it mildly.

“I resemble that remark,” you quipped, eyes closed once more as you raised a finger in the air.  Soon enough, though, you were drifting back off to sleep, only to wake several hours later in the late afternoon.

There was a note on top of your phone on the bedside table, scribbled in his surprisingly neat half-print, half-cursive handwriting.  “Out for a run,” it read, a little heart and smiley face with its tongue sticking out accompanying it.  Unsure when he’d be back, you finally convinced yourself to slip out of bed and into a much-needed shower.  You smelled like a mix of salt and chlorine and citrus—heaven, to Charles, but the grit of it was a bit much to take.  Besides, you needed to wash your hair as the two of you had plans for the evening, and your hair had become a mess over the past few days.

Stripping out of the shirt you’d haphazardly thrown on the night before, you ducked under the warm spray of the shower once you’d managed to settle on a half-decent playlist.  Humming to yourself, you didn’t hear Charles come back as you neared the end of your shower.

Sitting on the bench at the end of the unmade bed, he watched you through the half-fogged glass of the shower as the scent of your soap drifted through the air and the warmth of the steam lingered at the threshold between the two rooms.  He shouldn’t want you as badly as he does, but there’s something about your connection that was more intoxicating than any alcohol or drug could ever try to rival.  Everything about you drew him in, pulled him closer and closer like he was caught in a whirlpool; you’d bewitched him—mind, body, and soul—and under no circumstance did he want the spell to be broken.

You caught sight of him as you stepped out and began toweling off, asking, “Good run?”

He nodded as he stood, finally kicking off his shoes and shucking himself out of his shorts and briefs.  “Not as good as this morning,” he wrinkled his nose at the qualifier, pecking your lips before restarting the shower so he, too, could join you in your newfound cleanliness.  “Good shower?”

“Not as good as this morning,” you conceded in teasing as you watched him slip under the water with a laugh.

As he showered, you went to work at the vanity, going through your neglected skincare routine and brushing the tangles from your freshly washed hair.  By the time it was wrapped in a towel and on its way to drying, Charles had finished his own shower and was drying off with the lone clean towel you’d left him (you desperately needed to do some laundry tomorrow).

Towel wrapped around his waist, he took up his seat on the bench once more, scrolling aimlessly on his phone to distract himself from how you leaned over the vanity as you carefully applied your makeup.  You’d abandoned the towel that had been around your body, tired of having to fight the damn thing to stay secured every two minutes.  Besides, it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you naked before.

Charles, of course, did not mind this, but it certainly made it difficult to keep his focus on anywhere except the peek of your slit between your thighs and the curve of your tits every time you lent closer to the mirror in inspection.  It was dizzying, the way the blood rushed from his head to his…other head just at the mere sight of you.

Twitter half-held his attention for another five minutes, but that was all he could muster before he was stalking back to you and on his knees no less.  With a start and a gasp, you felt the heat of his tongue where you loved it most, eyes rolling back before you could catch yourself.  He hummed in response to the pitiful keening that left your lips.

“You are—fuck,” you started, caught off guard by the earnest press of Charles's thumb against your clit, “insatiable.  How do…how?” You had no idea where he pulled the stamina from, but you certainly weren’t complaining nor upset.

Stubbled open-mouth kisses pressed their way up your spine until he was standing behind you, caging you in with a hand on the vanity counter on either side of your hips.  “Quelque chose sur vous,” he breathed into the nape of your neck before planting a searing kiss there.  “I don’t know,” he shrugged with a groan as he rested his brow against your shoulder.

“Like I said earlier,” you teased softly as you turned in his arms, in the small cage he made with his arms against the countertop, “so needy.” The smell of his soap was still strong, but there was also something uniquely Charles, something you yourself could never get enough of.

He laughed at that, and you could feel the rumble of it where your abdomens met.  “Maybe,” he relented with a devilish twinkle in his eye, “but something tells me you are just as–”

You tutted, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t you dare finish that thought. At this rate we’ll never make it out tonight if you keep trying to fuck me,” you warned with a tilt of your head.

“But–”

“No buts.”

“Not even this one?,” he smirked, thinking himself something of a genius as the little shit fully palmed each cheek and pulled you in closer to press tightly against his toned body.

“Especially not that one!,” you swatted at his hands before he started running away from you and your faux-outrage, leaving you alone in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

An hour later he peeked his head in once more, dressed in a linen outfit perfect for a hot, humid, night on the Mediterranean. (Of course, this was something you’d helped him pick because Lord knows this man couldn’t be left to his own devices when it came to style; he had the style sense of a 14-year-old boy, and yet you loved him despite it—you were truly a saint.)  “Almost ready?,” he asked, eyes raking over the mid-length sleeveless silk dress you’d chosen, hair pulled into a messy French twist with simple gold accessories.  It wasn’t until he saw the slit clear up the middle of your thigh that he let out an exasperated sigh.  He was in for a long night.

Turns out, it wasn’t the worst thing ever.  Because by the time you’d made it back to the villa, you were both half-drunk on sangria and unable to keep your hands off one another…or, at least, more so than usual.

You’d gone to dinner and afterward, a small club where, in the darkened corner away from the flash of colored lights and drunken laughter of other revelers, you two made out like you were teenagers again.  He whispered naughty things in your ear, hot insistent hands slipping under your dress to grasp at the skin he so badly wanted to be pressed against—especially with how you’d toyed with him all night.  If you thought you were going to get away with grinding your ass against him, trailing the toe of your sandal up his legs during dinner, and whining in his ear with no shame…you had another thing coming.

With you bent over the back of the sofa, Charles shoved your dress over your hips where he chuckled in disbelief.  You smiled a Cheshire grin, knowing what he’d finally discovered for himself: you weren’t wearing any panties.

“You dirty girl,” he tsked in your ear as he pulled your back flush with his front, a strong arm around your middle in a way that was reminiscent of your midday fuck.  His hand smoothed over the plane of your belly and dipped into the sacred heat of your cunt to draw a whimper from your lips that he’d been desperate to hear all evening.  “So needy,” he teased as he ground his hard length against the curve of your ass and into the small of your back.

“Please–,” you pleaded with him, your sangria-addled mind having one desire and one desire, alone.

“Ne t'inquiète pas, chérie,” he hushed you as you bent back over and started arching your back for him: you were going to make this an offer he couldn’t refuse.  Groaning at the sight, he pressed the tip of his cock against your soaked entrance before slotting his pelvis against your own in one fell press of his hips.

He cursed, dropping his head down to rest against the space between your shoulder blades.  You wiggled your hips in desperation, needing friction—needing anything—to ease the ache between your legs. Hissing at the sensation, Charles nipped at the skin over your spine before soothing it with his tongue.  “Je sais, minette,” he groaned before starting a truly punishing rhythm with each stroke.  His hands gripped tight at your hips, only stopping for a moment to help you hitch one of your legs onto the back of the couch you were bent over which allowed his cock to grind against something deep within you.

You were hurtling fast and hard to your climax, and you could tell your partner wasn’t far behind with how his praises and curses tumbled from his lips in equal measure. The Monégasque was a talker in bed, you’d come to learn, but even more so now that his mind’s filter had been soaked in shitty sangria.

“So close–Charles, pl-please,” you whined pitifully before a hand entwined in your now-ruined bun and tugged, wrenching a choked gasp from your throat. You babbled half-incoherently as he held you against him once more and his other hand snaked around the front of your hip to rub tight circles over your pearl with that perfect rasp of much-needed friction.

“Jouis pour moi, chérie,” he gritted in your ear, and you didn’t need to be told twice as waves of pleasure crashed over your body.  Warmth spread from your core to the tips of your toes, breath caught in your throat as you rode the earliest waves.  Your hips bucked insistently against him, his own losing their rhythm at the feeling of you clenching so tightly around him and pulling him headfirst into a blinding high of his own.

With a choked gasp and your name on his lips, you felt as he came inside you just moments after your own orgasm. Panting and positively fucked out, you dropped down over the couch once more, slowly but surely floating back down into your body. Charles draped over you in exhaustion, catching his own breath as one of his hands found yours and traced over it mindlessly with gentle fingers.

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to figure out I wasn’t wearing any underwear,” you pondered aloud like the thought of your bare cunt under that dress hadn’t just resulted in the fuck of your life.  You were a tease—and an unabashed one, at that.

“Mon Dieu, chérie.”

final note: one more part for our stay in corsica before we depart the island! hoping you guys will enjoy it! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes where i reblog inspo & recs!

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x fem!reader #cl16 x reader #cl16 x y/n #cl16 smut #cl16 x you #cl16 x fem!reader #f1 smut #formula one smut #formula 1 smut #f1 driver smut #hmn series #velvetsainz.works #f1 one shot #formula one fic #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x fem!reader #formula one x female reader #formula one x fem!reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x you

[brother-emperors]

It’s a little bit ‘I was the match and you were the rock, maybe we started this fire/We sat apart and watched all we had burn on the pyre,’ and ‘Do you understand that we will never be the same again?’ from Bastille’s The Things We Lost In The Fire

and a little bit:

‘A l’instar de son aîné, Caius Antonius sait se montrer délicieux. Il est cultivé, intelligent, plein d’esprit, gracieux, amiable. Surtout, il appartient à la même génération que Brutus, au même milieu. Depuis le départ de Cassius pour l’Orient, il y à quatre mois, Marcus a vécu avec des hommes dont il pourrait être le père, ou avec les soldats, des bas officiers plus âgés mais qui ne sont pas de son monde.’

and also

‘En juin, Cassius a enlevé Laodicée et définitivement défait les forces de Dolabella. Jugeant les autres à sq propre mesur, le beau Publius Cornelius s'est souvenu de ce qu'il avait fait subir à Trebonius…Cassius passant pour un homme violent et rancunier, pour un ami fidèle aussi, Dolabella s'est dit qu'il allait payer la mort horrible de l'ancien gouverneur.’

Brutus: Assassin par idéal, Anne Berner

actually it’s mostly about how my entire playlist for the road leading up to Philippi (after both Brutus and Cassius leave Rome after the assassination of Caesar) is Bastille’s Bad Blood album on repeat. I want their relationship to get messy. There’s another version of this scene that gets a lot more teeth to the subtext of the conversation, but I wanted to play around with it first before committing to like. room layouts. there was originally a couple of transitional panels before the last 2 because I wanted Brutus to really chew on this thought he has, but augh. stairs. didn’t feel like drawing those.

ko-fi⭐ bsky ⭐ pixiv ⭐ pillowfort ⭐ cohost ⭐ cara.app

#that Brutus bio is not good but it IS very fun if he’s like. your favorite blorbo. if HBO Rome’s wet cat of a Brutus is your man #then this is the book for you #roman republic tag #komiks tag #drawing tag #marcus junius brutus #gaius cassius longinus #The real reason I did this is bc I wanted to scribble some architecture. I need. To treat the setting like a character #but my god do I hate drawing columns #also I think half breakups can be the height of romance. where are my fellow fans of the heirs. you know the break up scene #I’m thinking about. It’s been over ten years and I’m still thinking about them. Love teams want the hold that those two #had on me fr #they do kiss and make up about it later but it’s kind of tragic for Cassius

[hedgehog-moss]

Today was the last sunny day before several days of rain so I decided it would be a productive day and I would get lots of work done in the pasture. I wanted to start my autumn cleaning, gather all the manure and then spread it over my now-dismantled vegetable garden, and also work on the fence and prepare a few more crossbars if I had time.

It’s always when you’re ready to work and full of projects and motivation that one of your children comes up to you like “I have something to show you but first, promise you won’t get mad”

... Pirlouit somehow managed to get a PVC pipe stuck around his pastern (I discovered this English word just now! In French it’s pâturon.) The people who came to install a septic tank two years ago used these pipes and I later found some pieces they’d cut in the grass near my house, and used them to collect spring water into my new barrel. So I guess an even smaller piece of pipe they’d left behind rolled down all the way into the pasture :/ But the mystery is how Pirlouit got it stuck on his foot—because it was completely impossible to slip it past his hoof when I tried to pull on it. How was it large enough to fit in one direction but too narrow in the other...??

At least Pirou let me halter him without a fuss. He looked sheepish but also fairly confident that I could remove that thing. He was all but placing his foot in my lap like “Here.”

I went to fetch the large bolt-cutter that I use to cut barbed wire, and also my phone to take pictures of my donkey and shame him on the internet (but mostly because I knew this process would now involve some waiting. Every time I introduce him to a new object Pirlouit needs a good long period of sniffing and gingerly observing before you can touch him with it.)

Baby Poldine came to show solidarity by also running a security check on the New Thing.

Pampérigouste came to show solidarity by eating the treat I had prepared to comfort Pirlouit after his ordeal.

“I’m running a security check on this muesli.”

If anyone needs an ankle monitor it’s you, Pampe. Don’t push your luck.

(But her ankles are too slender for her to take the threat seriously.)

I put what was left of the muesli on the other side of the fence where it would be safe, then started attacking the pipe with the bolt-cutter. Every time I cut a centimetre of pipe it would make a clack sound that scared Pirlouit and I would have to put the cutter down and wait for him to stop dancing about nervously. He always appreciates singing in scary situations so I sang him a song about a donkey and a pipe to the tune of La Marseillaise (le tuyau sanglant est enlevé) to make him feel like a brave little soldier and it seemed to help.

Then I heard a different clickety-click sound behind me and I turned around and realised muesli can never really be safe anywhere around here.

When the chickens were done, Morille (who is scared of them) came to lick the bottom of the bowl to make sure every last atom of muesli had been stolen through admirable teamwork. Poor Pirlouit.

Anyway, little clack by little clack I managed to cut all the way down.

We took another break before removing the bracelet because my first attempt failed (the thing was harder to ‘open’ than I thought it’d be and it sort of snapped shut) which made Pirlouit skittish again. I took the opportunity to go and pick a small apple from the nearby tree to replace the stolen muesli.

Pirou accepted the apple looking gently melancholy, like “nothing can replace this stolen muesli in my heart but okay <3”

Victory!

It’s always heartwarming when I have to do something to Pirlouit that clearly stresses him out and after I free him from his halter, he doesn’t run away to sulk (as he used to when I first bought him!) but continues hanging out with me like “I still like you”

He even bravely examined the slain enemy.

I had to keep Pandolf in the barn the whole time because he’s too exuberant to be a soothing presence for stressed animals, but afterwards he & I went on an inspection tour in the pasture to see if there were any other bits of pipe. We didn’t find any (and there’s hardly any grass left so they should be easy to spot), so I hope that was the only one. I’m not sure how Pirlouit managed to step on the one small piece of pipe that had made its way into the pasture and then slip it around his ankle! Either very poor luck or a deliberate attempt at stylishness or maybe some secret third donkey thing.

#crawling along #the conclusion to all this is that i did not do a single one of the things i had planned to do in the pasture today #and there was still time to do 1 or 2 things before dark but #if you plan to start work at like 2pm and you get derailed it's just not possible to start at 3:17pm #brain is like ''it was 2pm or nothing i'm afraid''

[jessicaslittlelovesickmess]

Your mama’s crying

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x daughter reader

Warning: death, angst, Ian Doyle, depression, Ian calling reader by her “name”

It had been seven months…

Seven months since your mother had passed, your best friend had died at the hands of your father Ian Doyle. Seven months of losing yourself and recreating a new version of who you once were, everything had changed once she left, even me.

I couldn't bare looking into the mirror to stare at the dark eyes, raven hair that I mourned the loss of so I dyed it. Pink. Purple. Blue. Green. Red. Before settling on a beautiful Blonde that she would've loved. I swapped my glasses for coloured contacts, it hurt to see the ghost of my mother in myself.

Seven months and yet it felt like seven years..

The first day had begun a month after mum had passed, I was curled in her bed my face smothered in her blankets that were slowly loosing her scent. Morgan had burst into the room throwing my gym clothes at me telling me to get ready, we ran ten kilometres that day only stopping at the lookout on the hill to yell out our frustrations at the world.

It became a routine of sorts and sometimes Penelope would join us although she couldn’t keep up with us as often. It was okay. We would be okay, Sergio clung to me more as the months grew almost as if he just knew.

I sat with Derek on the roof, his arm wrapped securely around my shoulders as we spoke "I miss her" I whispered curling myself into him more. "Me too, miniP' he kissed my head before resting his cheek on it"me too he repeated sadly "she'd be proud of you, you know that right?" | nodded biting my lip.

I hope she would be

Although I wanted revenge

I had graduated university top of my class with the team cheering me on in the crowd, how was I to see those two guilty faces. It hurt my mother not being in the front row like she was meant to but I imagined she had been.

My father loved me in a strange way

The team thought it best to use me as the bait to catch him, I called him to a cafe just a quiet one that I had visited him before at. Staring at him I felt nothing, his face was blank “whats the softest way to say you took away my friend, my buddy?. Whats the kindest way to say you took away my friend?”.

“You wouldn’t understand Alora” he whispered “so help me understand father” hopefully the team should walk in any moment. “It was simply fate my dear, we have a past” fate? Fate took my mother? My heart had shattering once more.

I wanted to scream and cry, throw anything available at him but I was just so numb and maybe he knew that as he leaned over. Placing a gentle kiss on my forehead before the team burst in “Je t'aime Y/n” he whispered I love you Y/n “Adieu père” I whispered. Goodbye father

How dare he simply call it fate

“Elle m'a enlevé ma fille”

She took my daughter away

I was bound to him, mum was bound to him

I was his daughter

It was all a blur as he was arrested, I had become numb but I knew I hated France it would never be the same I’m not sure Virginia could be the same anymore.

I never went home that day, finding myself at Penelope’s front doorstep tears streaming down my face. Her arms had become home I wondered if my mother would be disappointed in me- of who I had become.

“Oh my sweetheart”

I wished I could’ve told her sooner about my adoration for women of my harboured feelings for an older blonde that I had no chance with. I had an internship with the bau while I found a job that I actually wanted, I had plans just as my mother once had.

We had been called into the conference room, I stood near the back “everyone take a seat” Hotch sighed as JJ stood beside him. "7 months ago I made a decision that affected this Team." he said, and I knew immediatly that this was about mum.

"As you know, Emily had lost a lot of blood after her fight with Doyle. The doctors were able to stabilize her and she was airlifted from Boston to Bethesda under a covert exfilitration. Her identity was strictly need-to-know." he said and I felt sick to my stomach.

"She stayed there until she was well enough to travel, she was reassigned to Paris where she was given several different identities which we had no access to for her security." He goes on.

"She's alive?" Penelope asked.

"But we buried her..." Reid says hurt.

I had buried my mother

I had buried my mother

Yet she had walked into the room with a smile on her face as if these seven months had never existed, I had buried my mother for nothing. These seven months had been a lie, all the words JJ and Aaron said had been lies all those tender hugs and kisses were full of guilt.

I couldn’t help but leave quickly as mum made her way around the team giving out hugs unaware she had watched me go. I couldn’t be there, I couldn’t be in that room not with everyone so happy to have her back, I grieved my mother.

I mourned someone who wasn’t dead

Maybe it was selfish of me but I left the team that day, finally moved my things out of my mothers apartment now that she was back. I ignored her calls so angry she could do such a thing the same went with Aaron and JJ, how could they? my mother?.

The team had called me often saying how my mother had been crying, her sobs begging for me and maybe in some sick way she knew just how I had felt.

I laid with my head in Penelopes lap as I sobbed, her soothing hands running through my hair “I know it’s hard right now Y/n but maybe it would be a good thing if you started talking to her again”.

“I’m just so scared Pen”

“And thats okay baby cakes”

It wouldn’t be another two weeks before I worked up the courage to talk to her, Rossi was hosting a part while I had arrived with the blonde. Mum made her way beside me “I’m proud of you Y/n” she slowly placed a hand on my shoulder.

She took a deep breath in tears already staining her waterline “and I’m sorry, if I could’ve taken you with me I would’ve but Aaron had said no. I asked them everyday about you and I’m sorry I couldn’t be here I’m sorry, I put my little girl through all this pain”

She moved her hands to cup my face “my baby girl, and when you graduated Uni. I made sure Aaron got me a clip of you. I never once stopped thinking about you, Mon cher I love you”

“And I am so so proud of you” the warmth of her lips pressed against my forehead cemented she was real “I’m sorry mama” I cried. “I was just so angry, I didn’t mean to make you cry” she pulled me into her chest rocking us gently side by side.

After a while she chuckle causing me to look up confused “you and Garcia?” She smirked with a raised brow

#imagine #wlw #angst #penelope garcia x reader #penelope garcia #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x daughter #emily prentiss x you #criminal minds

[eirene]

La chemise enlevée, baigneuses, 1913 Gaston La Touche

#Gaston La Touche #french art #art #painting #art history #early 20th century #summer #nature #idyllic #1910s #the girls

[chic-a-gigot]

Le Petit écho de la mode, no. 9, vol. 19, 28 février 1897, Paris. 18. Toilettes de cérémonie. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

(1.) Toilette de mariée en satin. Jupe à traîne ronde, garnie devant d’un volant de mousseline de soie, surmonté d’un cordon de fleurs d’oranger, remontant en quille sur les côtés, corsage froncé devant, croise à partir de la taille garni d’un cordon de fleurs d'oranger terminé par un bouquet. Ceinture drapée. Manches froncées dans toute la longueur, recouvertes du haut par deux volants mousseline de soie, col droit et ruche. Voile de tulle de soie et diadème de fleurs d’oranger, gants suede blanc.

(1.) Satin bridal ensemble. Skirt with round train, trimmed in front with a silk chiffon ruffle, topped with a cord of orange flowers, going up in a keel on the sides, gathered bodice in front, crosses from the waist trimmed with a cord of orange blossoms finished with a bouquet. Draped belt. Full-length gathered sleeves, covered at the top by two silk chiffon ruffles, straight collar and ruffle. Silk tulle veil and orange flower tiara, white suede gloves.

Matér.: 20 m. satin, 2 m. mousseline de soie.

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(2.) Toilette en bengaline gris nickel et entre-deux dentelle. Jupe ronde, garnie d’entre-deux, disposés en seconde jupe. Corsage blouse froncé à la taille, garni d’entre-deux. Ceinture suissesse en pointe, col droit en velours rubis, collerette de dentelle. Manches garnies d’entre-deux avec petits ballons bien enlevés. Chapeau feutre gris orné dentelle blanche, velours gris, plumes et aigrette blanches.

(2.) Ensemble in nickel gray bengaline and lace insert. Round skirt, garnished with in-betweens, arranged as a second skirt. Blouse bodice gathered at the waist, trimmed with inserts. Swiss point belt, straight collar in ruby velvet, lace collar. Sleeves trimmed with small balloons well removed. Gray felt hat decorated with white lace, gray velvet, white feathers and egret.

Matér. : 15 m. de bengaline, 0m50 velours.

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(3.) Toilette en moire brodée noire. Jupe ronde unie, montée à fronces derrière. Corsage blouse en bengaline jaune orange en serré daus une haute ceinture-corselet en satin noir, petit figaro très court garni de deux rangs de dentelle. Manches unies avec petit drapé dans le haut, volant au bas. Capote de jais ornée de dentelle et chrysanthèmes.

(3.) Black embroidered moire ensemble. Plain round skirt, gathered with gathers at the back. Blouse bodice in orange-yellow bengaline tightly fitted with a high corselet belt in black satin, very short little figaro trimmed with two rows of lace. Plain sleeves with small drape at the top, ruffle at the bottom. Jet hood decorated with lace and chrysanthemums.

Matér.: 15 m. de moire, 0m50 satin. 5 m. dentelle.

#Le Petit écho de la mode #19th century #1890s #1897 #on this day #February 28 #periodical #fashion #fashion plate #description #Forney #dress #bridal #veil #gigot #collar

[clhook]

Post très perso je sais pas si je vais le poster ou s'il va rester longtemps parce que je suis gênée de parler de ça mdr mais j'ai besoin de vider mon sac

j'avais un stérilet au cuivre pendant plusieurs années ça a été graduellement de plus en plus affreux au moment des règles pertes super abondantes douleurs insupportables etc mais je voulais pas l'enlever parce que je veux pas prendre d'hormones donc je serrais juste les dents une semaine et demie par mois mais à un moment j'ai commencé aussi à avoir mal en dehors des règles et surtout mal pendant les rapports je suis allée voir le médecin qui a dit que c'était parce qu'il y avait une mycose donc ok je soigne ça mais j'avais toujours mal je suis allée voir un autre médecin pour avoir un deuxième avis j'ai demandé si ça pouvait pas être de l'endométriose je me suis fait remballer ptdr j'ai fini par retourner voir mon médecin traitant qui a vu que mon stérilet était tombé et que c'était ça qui me provoquait les mycoses donc elle l'a enlevé carrément, elle m'en a prescrit un autre mais j'y suis jamais retournée parce que ça m'a un peu traumatisée et je voulais laisser mon corps trkl pendant un moment mais le fait est plusieurs mois plus tard que rien n'a changé, je suis toujours en pls pendant mes règles et je laisse plus mon mec me toucher parce qu'invariablement à chaque fois qu'on essaye je finis en larmes, pas seulement parce que j'ai mal mais parce que je suis déçue et triste et je culpabilise, impossible de mettre un tampon parce que ça me fait souffrir le martyr, et cerise sur le gâteau j'ai hyper envie d'être enceinte et d'avoir un bébé en ce moment et les gens m'en parlent systématiquement quand je parle du mariage c'est hyper dur de dire "haha on verra plus tard" alors que oui je rêve d'un bb mais je suis en combat constant avec mon corps et je suis fatiguée je pleure tout le temps l'autre jour ma collègue était hyper heureuse de me raconter que son fils va avoir un bébé j'ai tenu la conversation mais après je suis allée pleurer dans les toilettes comme une fragile j'ai pris rdv chez le médecin mais j'ai hyper peur d'y aller parce que j'ai peur d'avoir mal pendant l'examen et j'ai peur qu'elle me dise que j'ai rien et que c'est dans ma tête et que je passe le reste de ma vie comme ça ouin ouin ouin