#the promus

[klaineficroulettechallenge-us]

Chapter 16: EpilogueBy GleefulPoppet

Prom Day Saturday, May 15th, 2038 (25 Years Later)

“Oh, babe, those were the days, were they not?” Blaine brushed his fingertips over the Prom photo from almost exactly 25 years ago. “Look how little we were.”

“We were so little. Can you believe how delusional all that was with Sebastian bursting into the Prom and thinking he could somehow reconcile with you? I haven’t thought about it for a long time.” Kurt laughed and kissed the top of Blaine’s head where he was snuggled between Kurt’s legs with his back to Kurt’s chest, holding up the scrapbook he had made so many years ago. 

“Delusional is the word! Sometimes, I wonder what his life turned out to be like.”

“I hope he got his act together. He was such a pompous ass,” Kurt said.

“He really was. It’s nice to think about Landon and Dave, though. We received that announcement in the mail a few weeks ago about the two foster kids they adopted; it was adorable. Who would have thought it? They ran off and got married before we did! And Dave’s the football coach for a community college in…”

“Nebraska. They’ve won a couple of state championships, and Landon is a teacher there. Astonishing when you think about it, how what happened to me with Dave drove me to Dalton, where I met you and Alex. Then, I returned to McKinley, and you transferred. Then Dave came back. Alex came to visit and told us about Landon, and then he fell in love with Dave and helped him find his potential. And Dave helped him in return. And somewhere in there, you and I finally said, ‘I love you,’ in the more-than-friends way.” Kurt chuckled. 

“We sure did. Best day of my life,” Blaine hummed as he turned to another random page. They were having fun looking at the book out of order. “Oh, my heavens! My 18th birthday!” He started laughing and shaking his head. “We were still in the thick of our fake-dating ruse.” 

“I was pining for you so hard I think I had drool stains on my shirt. Look at you, so hot in that gray-and-white-striped shirt, bow tie with yellow polka dots, and your mustard yellow pants.” This time, Kurt touches the photograph. “And I just wanted to turn off that damn karaoke machine and give you the world’s most passionate kiss.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, why didn’t you?”

“Because that was impossible. You’d already given me what I thought was the world’s most passionate kiss at Rachel’s party.”

“Little did we know…” 

“How amazing kissing can be? And how sex gets better the older you are?”

“Exactly. I think it’s hysterical we thought our sex life would be over after our 20s.” 

Kurt whispers in Blaine’s ear, “Mmm... It’s not, is it? How many times did I have you begging for more last night? How many times did I swallow your screams in my mouth to help keep you quiet? And we just turned 43 this year, so really, I think we should plan on enjoying ourselves into our 90s, don’t you?” Kurt said as he nipped behind his husband’s ear, causing him to shiver. 

“At least.” Blaine pushed back into Kurt; he could feel him getting interested. They went in waves, like this week, where they had the hottest sex ever for hours on end or even multiple times a day, which sometimes turned into maybe once a week and everywhere in between. “Don’t start, love. Please? Later. We’re going to get in trouble again.”

Kurt buried his head in Blaine’s shoulder to stifle his laughter. “We so would. I’ll be good. Next random page.” 

Blaine quickly closed the book and unfurled it again. “Our college acceptance letters! Remember? My parents came over, we had Carole’s three-layer chocolate cake, and we opened all our letters together.” 

“Yes! We nearly broke our parents’ eardrums when we got accepted to NYADA! We could have damaged our voices! After that, I don’t think we even cared about the other letters.” 

“I loved going to college with you and living in that tiny little apartment with avocado-colored appliances and that sunshine yellow tile, constantly trying to make ends meet. You worked at the diner all those years, and I taught piano lessons, doing all we could to make our dreams come true one day at a time. And now look at us. We did okay, didn’t we?”

“We did. Living in a brownstone and working on Broadway or off-Broadway productions for the last 20 years in one capacity or another. You, my exceptional husband, have two Tony awards, a slew of other awards, and a new show opening soon with your original music. It’s been extraordinary.”

“And how many do you have, Kurt?”

“Stop. I want to gush about you, not me.” 

“You have three, Kurt Hummel. Three Tony awards and you deserve every one of them. Not to mention, you were the first of the New Directions to get one.” 

Kurt chuckled. “Rachel has never forgiven me, not really. Hers wasn’t far behind, though.”

“Another page?” Blaine asked.

“Yeah. I think we have time for one more before we have to get ready.” Kurt glanced over at the clock. 

He flipped the pages again. “Oh, graduation day! That was marvelous.” 

“Yes, it was, Mr. Valedictorian! We thought that day would never come, and then it came and went in seconds, and now we’ve been together longer than we were alive in these pictures.”

“Wow. There’s some perspective for you.” 

“Do you remember what happened on graduation night? On our way to the final party at Rachel’s, you were so desperate for it, telling me all the fantasies you’d had, that we pulled over in a darkened parking lot and climbed into the back seat, and you—”

Blaine cut Kurt’s story off with his lips, tilting his head to get a more suitable angle with the way they were sitting, and opened his mouth to deepen it. He wanted to get lost in his husband’s arms for just a minute. It still made Blaine’s stomach flutter when he was fully present in the moment and felt so much gratitude that they’d made it this far, still so in love. 

They heard a loud thump upstairs and then a chorus of girls laughing. “Dads! We’re coming down. You’d better not be making out again!” A teen voice carried down the stairs.

“How do they know? How do they always know?” Blaine groaned as he reluctantly pulled away from Kurt’s decadent mouth. 

Kurt tipped his head back and laughed. “Would you like some more perspective? Our daughter is as old as we are in these photos, and we’ll be adding her Prom and graduation pictures to her scrapbook this month.”

“It’s gone so fast.”

When the four girls arrived at the bottom of the stairs, Blaine and Kurt gasped and jumped up from the couch. “You all look so beautiful!” they said in unison. 

“You did a spectacular job with hair and makeup on each other,” Kurt said, reaching out and twirling his daughter, Audrey, to inspect her. “So perfect. All of you,” he said as he looked over their hair.

“Thank you, Dad,” they chimed. Of course, only two of them were his. All their children’s friends called them ”Dad,” and they had an incredible relationship with them. Their home was a haven for all the kids. When things in the outside world were scary and school was hard, everyone knew they were welcome at the Hummel-Anderson’s for hugs, fun, advice when asked for, singing, a quiet zone study room, food from a kitchen that was never closed, and somewhere that was always safe. 

At that moment, the front door flew open. “I’m home!” Spencer yelled.

One of the girls, Sophia, squealed, “Hide me! He can’t see me yet!” 

“Spencer, don’t come in here unless you want the wrath of your girlfriend. Take your tux upstairs. I’ll call you when it’s safe,” Blaine half-shouted as he headed towards the foyer to greet him. 

“Thanks, Dad. That would’ve been scary.”

“I agree,” he said as he patted him on the shoulder and then headed back to Kurt. 

“Hi, Papa! You going to help me?” he shouted as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. 

“Yup! Tell me when you’re ready,” Kurt called back. 

Sophia said, “Oh, thank heavens. You’re going to do his hair?” which made their other friend, Lana, laugh because Spencer was notorious for laying down the hair gel despite everyone’s grumbling. 

“I am indeed,” Kurt replied and then chuckled. “Whatever you threatened him with convinced him.”

She nodded. “Thank you!” 

“Anything for you girls. Now, do you have everything you need? Your gowns are still intact? Shoes are still in pairs? Nothing is slipping off and needs altering?”

“Yes. Thank you, Papa. You’ve checked a dozen times. We just have to put our dresses on when it gets closer. We thought we’d help with the food for Greer’s party tonight since she helped us get ready for Prom.” She poked her little sister, a freshman in high school. 

“Well, that is sweet of you ladies,” Blaine said. “Papa and I already finished it all, though, so why don’t you go relax before the chaos starts and you have to get dressed in an hour?”

“You’re sure?” Audrey and Greer asked simultaneously. 

Kurt smiled, a warmth spreading through his chest. It had been such a privilege to see these kids get older and how they lived—each in their own way—what he and Blaine had tried to teach them. Their family motto, which hung in several places in their home, was C.O.U.R.A.G.E. (Communication, Open-minded, Understanding, Respectful, Adventurous, Grateful, Educated). His kids were always willing to help, so he didn’t mind the insanity that was about to start. 

“We’re sure. Audrey, yours and Lana’s dates and their parents and Sophia’s parents should all be here in 90 minutes. We’ll do pictures and send you off to Senior Prom. Well, Junior Prom for Spencer and Sophia. In two hours, all of Greer’s friends should arrive, and once we make sure they are all here safely for their outdoor movie night—complete with a popcorn and candy bar, a cooler full of sodas, and six extra-large pizzas being delivered, including a gluten-free and vegan option—then we’ll head out with all the Prom date parents for dinner.”

“Oh, is that all?” Audrey teased. 

“Well, Dad and I can still add volunteering as chaperones at your Prom!” 

“Oh, Dads! No! We talked about this. You would sing every other song or dance in a dark corner. Ewww. Public displays of affection. I love you, Papa, but no. Thank you.”

All the girls laughed and dashed upstairs. 

Kurt pulled Blaine into his arms and kissed him playfully, parting with a mwwwah. 

“You ready to get all dressed up for our hot date?” Blaine asked.

“I am indeed! Shall we?” Kurt offered his elbow as they headed toward their room. 

Blaine beamed as he glanced at his husband. “What a wonderful, wonderful life.”

#The Prom-us #Now Complete #Klaine Roulette Challenge- the Prom-us #the prom-us #klaine fic roulette- the prom-us #klaine fanfiction #klaine fanfic #the prom us #signal boost #the promus

[housewifebuck]

hi cam <3

I have a request, but there's absolutely no pressure, it's ok if you don't want to do it!!

season 1 episode 6, abby dressed up for her date in her pretty black dress

Hiiii bestie<3 Ok u know I’m not an Abby fan but FOR U…I’ll do it

#I’ll work on it at some point I promu #asks #gr

[egyptian-ice]

( Send ❄️ to encounter my muse, freezing cold and lost. )

❄️❄️❄️❄️

Jack was doing his usual rounds of bringing snow and ice to the world when he had a hankering for German chocolate, which brought him to the Bavarian region of the country. He was floating through one of the Christmas markets, saying hi to some of the kids that could see him, when all of a sudden he felt that something was off. He couldn't quite shake the feeling as he was making his way through the streets. Something felt... Familiar? But so far away. Eventually, he stopped at one of the alleyways and stared it down. Something was telling him to go down there... but what? His curiosity got the better of him though, so he floated back down to the ground and landed on his feet, then made his way through. He didn't feel like something was going to pop out at him, but he still raised his staff defensively just in case. As he was walking, he saw a big pile of snow on the side and someone hunkered down next to it covered in some of the white fluff. He noticed that they barely had anything on which made him panic. As nice as it was out during this time of year, nobody should be wearing only a few layers like this person was. He decided to approach the figure calmly as he rested his staff on his shoulder, even if it ran the risk of them not being able to see him. He walked over and kneeled down to meet their eyes, speaking with a smile on his face. "Evening. It's a bit chilly tonight, isn't it? Where's your ja-" He stopped suddenly and his eyes widened to the size of saucers. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He knew this person, his friend for almost a year now, or at least he deemed him as such, he figured they were friends at this point by the lovely banter they kept up all these months after their initial meeting. He dropped his staff as he put a hand on the other's shoulder. "Sebastian?! Is that you?"

#daemoniacus-promus #[omg the first rp on this blog in 4 years let's goooo] #verse: fire and ice

[sir-fluffbutts]

How do you come up with names for your characters 😭😿im struggling over here :(

there are 3 options of naming (for me)

----------

option 1 is naming them inspired by other things

for example, estrella was from the word stella, which means star in latin

phather was from the word feather and the word aether

and promue was from the name of a greek mythlogy character prometheus

--

option 2 is straight up naming them after things

such as

food names (muffin/chiffon/latte/mocha ect)

words (cloud nine/daydream/sugerhigh/kiss ect)

animals (shark/fish/bird ect)

and more

--

option 3 is just going with it

like....i sometimes see the guy and go "oh yeah, that is a kenny when i see one"

---------------

im equally bad at naming my ocs so 😭 same struggle

#ask

[thebusylilbee]

"Un café crème et une minute, voire deux, de réflexion. Nawel (1) est à la recherche des mots pour décrire ses sentiments. La trentenaire est «chargée de sécurité en ligne» pour un média social. Elle a «galéré» pour se faire embaucher. La faute à quoi ? Son nom, son prénom et sa religion, dit-elle dans une brasserie parisienne proche de la place de la République. «Je fais attention à ne pas tomber dans la colère parce qu’on nous refuse le droit à la colère. Elle est perçue comme une forme de violence alors que nous la subissons au quotidien.» Le «nous» englobe de nombreux Français musulmans diplômés. Ils dénoncent une atmosphère «pesante» dans le monde du travail, les médias et l’espace public. Ils ne supportent plus les regards de travers les jours qui suivent les attentats, la «suspicion» et les débats politiques. Une vie avec la «boule au ventre», disent-ils.

Aïcha (1) qui enseigne la littérature dans le Val-de-Marne garde encore en elle la souffrance lorsqu’un collègue lui a posé une question après l’attaque du Hamas en Israël le 7 octobre. Elle était installée en train de boire son café en pianotant sur son téléphone dans la salle des professeurs. Tout était calme. Puis : «Et toi Aïcha, tu es bien silencieuse, ça ne te fait rien ce qui vient de se passer ?» Elle a fondu en larmes dans sa voiture sur le chemin du retour. En arrivant à son domicile, Aïcha a demandé à son compagnon : «Pourquoi on reste encore ici alors qu’on pourrait être respectés ailleurs ?»

«On se bat pour se faire embaucher»

Le ressenti est documenté. Trois sociologues ont mené une enquête. Olivier Esteves, Alice Picard et Julien Talpin ont interrogé une partie de cette «élite minoritaire» – appuyée sur un échantillon quantitatif de plus de 1 000 personnes et sur 140 entretiens approfondis – qui a décidé de quitter la France pour s’installer à Londres, Dubaï, New York, Casablanca, Montréal. Ils ont en fait un livre, La France, tu l’aimes mais tu la quittes (Seuil). Les interrogés racontent les raisons de l’exil : discrimination, stigmatisation et difficultés à grimper dans le fameux ascenseur social. Libération a rencontré une dizaine de jeunes diplômés musulmans – pratiquants ou non – qui travaillent actuellement en France mais qui pensent chaque jour un peu plus à l’exil. Nous en avons également croisé qui ont passé le cap ; celui de vivre ailleurs.

Le recteur de la grande mosquée de Bordeaux, le médiatique Tareq Oubrou, perçoit le phénomène. «Le malaise est profond chez les musulmans et ne l’a jamais autant été. Il y a de grandes interrogations, une angoisse même face à l’avenir politique et social d’une France qui se crispe», explique cette figure de l’islam de France. Combien ont passé la frontière ? Les chiffres n’existent pas.

Salim est ingénieur dans la téléphonie. «J’en parle presque tous les jours avec des copains, dit-il en introduction. Nous sommes nombreux à ressentir la même chose. On se bat pour se faire embaucher et on galère pour être promu. Récemment, mon collègue qui a été nommé chef d’équipe a été gêné. Il n’arrive même plus à me regarder dans les yeux. Je suis arrivé avant lui et j’ai fait de meilleures écoles que lui. Je suis vu comme le mec sympa qui fait des blagues, qui devrait remercier chaque matin ses patrons d’être là.» Le trentenaire est en train de se laisser convaincre par son cousin à Londres. Il gagne le double de son salaire mais pas seulement. Salim regarde le plafond, s’évade et revient parmi nous : «Personne ne lui fait de réflexions pendant le ramadan ou après une attaque terroriste. Il n’est pas vu comme un arabe ou un musulman mais comme un ingénieur français.»

«Je me suis sentie entièrement française»

Dans la brasserie parisienne, Nawel commande un second café crème et déroule le câble de sa trajectoire. C’est la petite dernière des huit enfants de la famille. Ses parents ont quitté le Maroc à la fin des années 60 pour s’installer dans l’Yonne. Le daron à l’usine et la daronne avec la marmaille. La famille déménage un peu plus tard dans un petit village du Loir-et-Cher. «Mon père est devenu bûcheron. Les premiers temps étaient compliqués dans le village. Il y avait beaucoup de racisme, nous étions la seule famille arabe du coin. Mais notre famille nombreuse a sauvé l’équipe de foot, la fanfare et l’école du village.» Après un bac littéraire, la petite dernière se lance dans la sociologie. Elle se retrouve à Londres grâce au programme Erasmus. Tout change. «Je rencontre des gens du monde entier et plus personne ne me méprise, dit-elle. Je n’avais plus besoin de me justifier ou d’avoir honte de ce que je suis. Et, pour la première fois de ma vie, je me suis sentie entièrement française.» Cette dernière phrase reviendra souvent tout au long de nos rencontres avec les expatriés.

Nawel se cherche à son retour. Elle se lance dans le journalisme, un milieu où l’entre-soi est roi et la diversité (surtout dans les postes à responsabilité) un songe. Elle galère, enchaîne les petits jobs pour payer les factures. Elle décide de partir pour Dublin, en Irlande, où elle se retrouve – après avoir vendu des sandwichs – modératrice de contenus pour Facebook. Elle gravit les échelons en interne et change de boîte. Airbnb puis Twitter (devenu X). La vie est belle. Un bon salaire et des responsabilités. Nawel décide de rentrer en France après sept années en Irlande. «Je pensais que ça allait bien se passer. J’avais fait mes preuves dans de grosses boîtes, mais non. Je postule à un tas de trucs mais je n’ai aucune réponse. Je galère aussi pour trouver un appartement à Paris. J’avais des offres d’emploi toutes les semaines en Irlande et pas une depuis mon retour en France.» Elle ne lâche pas l’affaire. La «chargée de sécurité en ligne» décroche deux entretiens. Deux réponses positives. Elle ne croit pas au hasard : «J’ai eu un entretien avec un directeur des ressources humaines maghrébin et le second, c’était en visioconférence avec un Afro-Américain parce que c’est une entreprise américaine.»

Pour Amara, 24 ans, la religion en France reste un «tabou», surtout dans le cadre professionnel. (Dorian Prost/Libération )

La jeunesse diplômée qui pense à l’exil se ressemble dans le regard de ceux qui mettent dans le même sac les enfants d’immigrés nés en France. «Nous sommes différents. Tous les Arabes ne sont pas musulmans et tous les musulmans ne sont pas Arabes, explique Salim. Et chez les croyants, les degrés de pratique varient mais de nombreuses personnes ne cherchent pas à comprendre.» Les pratiquants, notamment les femmes voilées, sont nombreux à se projeter loin de la France ; pas forcément dans des pays musulmans.

«On est obligés de cacher un peu notre identité»

Cap au Nord. Ils ont tous les deux un parcours brillant : étudiante en M1 dans une grande école lilloise pour l’une ; en dernière année de Centrale-Lille, cursus ingénieur en développement applications mobiles et web, pour l’autre. Fatima (1), 22 ans, a grandi à Roubaix, immigration de troisième génération. Ses grands-parents, habitants de l’Algérie française, sont arrivés en métropole dans les années 50. Amara, 24 ans, originaire de banlieue parisienne, a des parents venant d’Afrique subsaharienne : Côte-d’Ivoire pour le père, Guinée pour la mère. Tous les deux, si différents dans leur histoire, partagent le même désir d’ailleurs. «Rester reviendrait à vivre dans un pays où on ne se sent pas à 100 % acceptés», résume Fatima, voile kaki accordé à sa chemise vintage, chinée en friperie, et jeans blanc. Amara approuve : «Je voudrais trouver un pays où je peux pratiquer ma religion dans des conditions plus propices.» Il dit qu’en France, la religion reste un «tabou», surtout dans le cadre professionnel. Un regret ? «On est dans le pays où on a grandi, on fait la culture de ce pays, mais on est obligés de cacher un peu notre identité.»

Fatima souffre, elle, de l’image des musulmans issus des quartiers populaires. «On les associe dans l’imaginaire collectif à délinquance et à communautarisme. Et on nous confond avec des terroristes», soupire-t-elle. Le retour de Berlin, après un séjour Erasmus, a été dur. «Deux jours après, c’était l’annonce de l’interdiction de l’abaya. Je ne me sens pas vraiment concernée, je n’aime pas porter des robes, mais après Berlin, où tout le monde se respecte…» Elle porte le voile depuis trois ans. Dans son école lilloise, elle n’a subi aucune discrimination, de la part des profs comme des élèves. Juste parfois des étonnements maladroits quand on constate qu’elle ne parle pas arabe ou que ses parents sont français. Elle flippe pour les entretiens d’embauche. Elle a une autre peur, que l’extrême droite arrive au pouvoir. Pour ces raisons, elle prévoit de chercher du travail au Canada ou en Grande-Bretagne. «Soit on reste et on aide au développement de sa ville, soupire-t-elle. Soit on part, avec un sentiment de culpabilité. La France a investi sur moi, mais cela ne lui profitera peut-être pas. Je n’ai pas l’impression qu’elle se rende compte de cette perte.»

Amel a une phobie : l’avion. Elle traverse les mers et les océans pour rejoindre les différents continents. Elle a vécu un temps au Brésil. Puis un long moment à Dubaï. Elle raconte toujours un tas d’histoires. Ses traversées en cargo ou en voiliers. «J’ai toujours su que je quitterais la France après mes études, explique l’ancienne étudiante en école de commerce. Je n’ai jamais été une victime directe de racisme mais je sentais que j’aurais moins de barrières ailleurs et qu’on ne me jugerait pas.» Amel a créé plusieurs entreprises à Dubaï dans la cosmétique. Elle travaille aussi dans la finance. Dans un café du IIe arrondissement de Paris, la trentenaire pose une question qui paraît banale : «Pourquoi les choses ne changent pas ?» Elle ne cherche pas la réponse. Elle refuse de parler de «regrets» ou de «gâchis». Elle préfère dire «tant pis» pour la France. Son retour à Dubaï est programmé pour les prochaines semaines. Elle cherche un voilier pour embarquer.

Du racisme ordinaire devenu «monnaie courante»

Omar est ingénieur en informatique. Il a tout quitté du jour au lendemain pour la Californie. Une décision «difficile mais réfléchie», «contrainte aussi». Le trentenaire, fils de Marocains, est musulman pratiquant. Il y a six mois, il était encore «bien installé». Omar a traversé le monde pour s’établir à Los Angeles avec sa femme Nadia, 30 ans, chercheuse en biologie, et leurs deux enfants de 3 et 8 ans. La réponse à «une atmosphère islamophobe» devenue trop pesante. «Nos proches nous manquent, mais on ne veut plus se cacher par peur d’être jugés», dit-il. La réalité ? Un «incident» leur a fait franchir le pas l’an dernier. «Nadia a été dénoncée par des collègues car elle portait le voile dans son laboratoire.» Des questions de sécurité ont été mises en avant. Une «fausse excuse», selon Omar, qui insiste pour dire que sa femme travaille désormais dans l’un des plus grands hôpitaux de Californie «sans que cela ne leur pose de problème». Dans son entourage, leur cas n’est pas isolé, ses deux sœurs, dont il préfère taire la profession, sont parties en Angleterre pour les mêmes raisons.

La trentenaire Amel a préféré dire «tant pis» à la France et partir vivre à Dubaï. (Marie Rouge/Libération)

Facky, lui, raconte un tas d’anecdotes. Diplômé d’école d’ingénieur l’an dernier, il a sauté le pas il y a quatre mois pour rejoindre le Japon. Une parenthèse pour le moment. Il compte y apprendre la langue, pendant un an, et, s’il s’y plaît, s’y installer définitivement. Ici ou ailleurs mais pas en France. «J’aime mon pays mais malheureusement je n’ai plus vraiment l’espoir de vivre sereinement quand on te répète tous les jours que tu n’es pas chez toi en France.» Il raconte des expériences. Du racisme ordinaire devenu «monnaie courante». Cette fois, lors d’un contrôle d’identité alors qu’il attend sa mère, où quatre policiers le mettent en joue par crainte de ce qu’il peut avoir dans son sac. Un flingue pointé sur sa tête. Ou alors, «moins grave», mais tout aussi «fatiguant», lorsqu’un caissier de supermarché refuse de passer ses articles. Dernier épisode en date, il y a un mois, dans l’avion le ramenant en France pendant le ramadan. Il explique au personnel de bord qu’il jeûne. Une femme, assise à portée de la conversation, juge bon de donner son avis : «On est au Japon ou à Kaboul là ?»

Dans la brasserie parisienne, Nawel regarde l’heure. Elle doit retourner travailler. La pause est terminée. Une ultime question : partir ou rester en France ? «Je parle cinq langues et j’ai fait mes preuves mais mon pays a du mal à reconnaître mes compétences. C’est triste. Nos parents sont venus ici pour travailler sans faire de vagues. Ils ont accepté beaucoup de choses que je ne pourrais jamais accepter.» Nouvelle hésitation. Nouveau silence. Puis : «Je n’ai pas envie de faire semblant ou de jouer à la meuf sympa pour me faire une place. C’est terminé cette époque. Peut-être que demain j’aurai des enfants et je ne veux pas qu’ils grandissent dans une ambiance ou il faut toujours montrer patte blanche ou se justifier.» "

(1) Les prénoms ont été modifiés.

#article copié en entier car réservé aux abonnés #rien ne me surprend dans cet article mais ça m'attriste... #racism #upthebaguette #whatthefrance #french side of tumblr #french #en français #maghreb #mena #arabe #islam #muslims

[clhook]

Sinon hier j'ai eu la confirmation que j'allais être promue suite à mon concours donc aujourd'hui j'ai decidé de me vêtir en accord avec mon futur poste, j'ai mis un blazer avec un chemisier MAIS j'ai quand même mis mes baskets pour rester proche du bas peuple vous comprenez

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Depuis sa mort en 1979, la femme qui a découvert de quoi est fait l'univers n'a pas gagné beaucoup de reconnaissance, seulement une plaque sur le mur de l'université et rien d'autre.

Ses nécrologies dans les journaux ne mentionnent pas sa plus grande découverte. Tous les lycéens savent qu'Isaac Newton a découvert la gravité, Charles Darwin a expliqué l'évolution et Albert Einstein a expliqué la théorie de la relativité. Mais quand il s'agit de la composition de notre univers, les manuels disent simplement que l'hydrogène est l'atome le plus commun de l'univers. Et personne ne sait qui l’a découvert. C’est Cécilia Payne. Elle est l'auteur de la plus importante thèse de doctorat en astronomie jamais écrite. Et dire que la mère de Cecilia Payne ne voulait pas dépenser d'argent pour son collège, affirmant qu'aller à l'université était stupide pour une femme. Donc Cecilia a donc gagné une bourse à Cambridge elle-même. Elle a réussi les examens mais Cambridge ne lui a pas donné de diplôme parce qu'elle était une femme, donc elle a déménagé aux États-Unis pour travailler à Harvard. Elle a été la première personne à recevoir un doctorat en astronomie du Radcliffe College, écrivant ce qu'Otto Strauve appelait « la thèse de doctorat la plus excellente » en astronomie. " Elle a aussi découvert de quoi est fait le soleil. Littéralement toute étude des étoiles variables est basée sur son travail. Elle a été la première femme promue professeur de Harvard. Et même avec tout son engagement, elle n'est pas mentionnée avec tout le respect que l’on doit à une scientifique de si haut grade.

#cécilia payne #astronomie #women

[alalaya2]

Tim Drakes sleeping habits save the Earth

Part 9 Death is a punk Goth

Morrigan like her older brother always knew things Things she was suppose to know and things she was defiantly not suppose to know. It did help with her rambunctious Friends/ siblings that she was the one who always knew how a journey would end. Lazarus would start there journeys Clockwork could see where they would go, she would see the end of the journey and their friends/siblings of chose made the journey worth taking. I had save them all a lot of grief in the long run knowing which pitfalls to avoid especially if both she and her Brother told them not to do it. Vortex nine time out of ten did it any way the Crazy loon that he was took it as a challenge. It would not surprises Morrigan if the Yahoo became a deliquesce in her absents.

It was not until she had married Lazarus and became pregnant with her twins that she saw two different ending she was Death and death was an end and a new beginning. she could watch her babies grow up and have children of their own only for most of the Realms being destroyed or she could miss so much of their life and the would suffer but they would survive and some day maybe even be happy and the realms would flourish. She was the Phantom Queen in the end their really wasn't a choice.

Morrigan allowed herself to Fade into the realms of the Endless and with the realms of the Endless was her younger siblings Destiny, Dream (formerly Morpheus, succeeded by Daniel), Destruction ("The Prodigal"), Desire, Despair ,Delirium (formerly "Delight"). She knew that she needed to keep them safe and that one day she would take them into the infinite Realms to save the balance they all protected. It was hard watching her Children Grow up without her and watching the hardship all of her family went through. the only comfort she had was a small locket watch that Clockwork had given to her with its steady ticking she knew the day it died was the day that she could go home and it was a day she was Dreading.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Danny hurt all over his head hurt his body hurt and even his hair hurt he could see some ghost that had gone missing a few days ago secured to a slab the Scientist. He was luck or unlucky that as a Ghost his voice and hands were not intermetal to communicating. They had Klemper his Blond hair was matted with his own ectoplasm he was missing one of his red eyes. Klemper Reached out to his aura to his king ‘Friend, King. no not you’

‘How? Missing, who else’

“Ambushed, Trap, Promus of Friend, Archer gone.’

Archer was one of Doras subjects he was just starting to be trusted to go out of the Dragon Kingdom Aragon had not treated his subjects well and his soldiers even worse. Jazz had given Dora resources to help, and they were finally started to heal and move forward. Danny allowed himself one moment to mourn his passing and focused back onto Klemper and any others that may be there.

‘Others?’

‘Yes Plaything, Rebreather others don’t Know 15 more’

Over 20 of his Subjects he knew some were missing in the living Realms and no one knew it was that many and there was no telling how many others had faded like Archur. It was as if his core was a glacier, and it was starting to melt and Crumble at the thought of some many of his subjects he couldn’t save couldn’t PROTECT. His Fight had discovered that he had a Dule obsession Space and the protections of all that was in it the fact that his people were suffering, and he couldn’t protect them was painful. ‘Stay strong, will get you all out, help will come.’ Klemper just projected a string of emotions that Danny didn’t catch.

Klemper was a little over 100 years old he had Died during WWI Due to Mustard gas he knew that the young king was just Trying to protect him in any way he can. He had been with the GIW too long and he would not last the rest of the day. Already he could feel his core starting to dissolve but, the thought was nice almost like a Friend trying to comfort you. At least this time he would not die alone with out a friend or as near a Friend as a ghost enemy can get. ‘Sorry king, to late, to late, much to late thank you not alone friend.’

Danny watched in horror as Klemper seemed to shimmer a bit then he started to dissolve leaving bits of snow as he became less and less. Danny screamed as much as he could with his muzzle and restraints. He’s chest Rumbled shaking the table he had been strapped to and that Rumble started to shake the building as well. There was shouting in the halls outside the room, but Danny didn’t hear, nor did he care one of his had faded right in front of him and he could do nothing. Klemper was a little annoying, but he didn’t deserve this, none of them did.

Finally, Agent O burst in the room while he was trying to cover his ears as much as possible. Agent O glared at Danny shouting at him to shut up, but Danny could not hear him over the sounds of his own muffled screams. He had had enough and kicked the Button on the side of Danny’s table, shocking Danny into oblivion. Agent O, pleased with how he was able to take out the Ghost Scum was happy that despite that little hiccup everything was going smoothly.

This, all the GIW later find out, would be proven false because The Batfam and the JL were on the case Clark had heard the scream and told batman which Direction it was coming from. The Bats were able to find the tremors from the scream and pinpoint where Danny was they alerted everyone and everyone was ready for a throwdown.

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#danny phantom #dp x dc #batman #ghost king danny #dpxdc #tim drake #red hood #alfred pennyworth #danny fenton #dc x dp #clockwork #Frostbite #fright knight #justice league #green lantern #GIW suck

[homomenhommes]

Apollo et le Centaure Quiron,

est un tableau à l'huile sur la planche du peintre italien Domenico Buti, réalisé autour de 1571-1573 conservé au Studio de Francisco I au Palazzo Vecchio à Florence, Italie.

Sur la table, au premier plan, Apollon est représenté en confiant son fils Esculape, né de son union avec Coronis, transformé en corbeau par Athéna et tué par Apollon lui-même, au centaure Chiron, maître dans l'art de la médecine. Au fond, centaures et hommes se consacrent à distiller des potions médicinales. Le porche représenté rappelle beaucoup celui des Offizi et, en fait, la peinture contient probablement une référence aux distillations de médicaments promues par Francesco lui-même et pratiquées dans les ateliers situés juste en dessous des Offizi. Selon la reconstruction effectuée par Rinehart à la lumière d'un document, le panneau de Buti devait être sous le bronze représentant Apollon et sous l'élément Feu. Le placard derrière lui contenait peut-être des pierres thaumaturgiques et des potions que le prince croyait avoir le pouvoir de le préserver du mal.

[yespat49]

Pourquoi l’immigration est-elle encouragée par nos gouvernements ?

Il est une question lancinante qui rend perplexe plus d’un observateur avisé du chaos généralisé dans lequel la France et le monde occidental sont plongés : pourquoi ? Pourquoi ceux qui nous gouvernent ont-ils à ce point promu et facilité l’immigration extra-européenne de masse ? Pourquoi cette politique folle, alors même que les effets néfastes de cette décision étaient prévisibles ? Dans le…

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[klaineficroulettechallenge-us]

Chapter 14 By justgleekout

“Wow,” Blaine breathed out and cleared his throat. “Just— Wow .” A smile broke out on his face, and he chuckled as he ducked his head, shaking it in disbelief. “Does that mean that-that you…” He swallowed. “Feel the same?” he asked, his voice apprehensive and a little shaky. Nerves suddenly washed over him. What if he got it wrong? What if he had misread Kurt kissing back? He closed his eyes, waiting for an answer. 

Now, it was Kurt's time to let out a chuckle. He grabbed Blaine's face in both his hands, lifting it to look at him, and gave him a fierce look. Kurt’s eyes glistened as they filled with emotion. “Blaine Anderson, I’ve been in love with you since the moment I met you.” He pressed another chaste kiss to Blaine’s lips and smiled at him. 

Blaine felt like he could breathe again for the first time in months. Those words, god! He had been waiting to hear those words for so long. And now, there they were. Everything would be so different now. Or would it? “So…does that mean we don’t have to break up after Prom?” 

“Not if it’s up to me, we don't,” Kurt said. They shared goofy grins for a moment before Kurt realised something. “Wait. I should properly ask you, shouldn’t I?” 

Blaine gave him a confused look. “Ask me what?”

“Blaine, would you be my official, not-fake boyfriend?” Kurt asked solemnly. 

Blaine threw his head back and laughed. “Yes. Yes, I would,” he said, nodding enthusiastically at the gesture. He pulled Kurt into a tight embrace. When they pulled apart, they stayed close, their noses touching. Blaine leaned in, and they kissed again. Now that he knew Kurt felt the same and had for so long, he felt as if he needed to make up for lost time. Now that he could, he never wanted to stop kissing Kurt. It felt so much better now. So much lighter. So much easier. He let the kiss linger. He wanted to remember what Kurt's lips tasted like, how soft they felt against his own, and the warmth of Kurt being so close to him before they parted again. “Shall I… Shall I drive you home?” Blaine proposed. 

“I’d like that,” Kurt said with a shy smile.

Blaine held out his hand and, as Kurt took it, escorted him to his car. 

After a few moments of driving in comfortable silence while exchanging excited glances and bashful looks, Kurt broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah. Of course. Anything.” Blaine laid his hand on Kurt’s leg and squeezed, his eyes still on the road. It sent a wave of warmth through Kurt's whole body. 

“Why did you wait so long to tell me how you felt?”

Blaine glanced at him. “I... I guess I just never found the right moment. I wasn't sure you felt the same. And then I was sure you didn’t when you started dating Alex.”

“Only because I thought I had no chance with you,” Kurt declared. “It was never going to last between him and me. At breakfast the other day, Alex told me he knew that, even when we started dating.” 

Blaine shot him a confused look as if to ask what Kurt meant by that, so Kurt elaborated. “He told me he noticed you and I looked ‘obviously in love’ and that we were ‘meant to be.’” Kurt then sighed and shook his head. “I feel like, somehow, everyone around us seemed to know how we felt for each other except for us .”

Blaine snorted at that. “We really are oblivious, aren’t we?” he retorted. They fell silent again. “Why didn't you tell me how you felt?” 

Kurt raised his eyebrows at that. “I did ! Remember Valentine's Day 2011? When I told you I wanted to be on the receiving end of your serenade? I think I just figured you’d remembered that. I really didn’t feel like embarrassing myself like that more than once.” 

Blaine opened his mouth to speak but couldn't really find the words, so Kurt continued.

“I feel like I gave you so many signs as well. Planning those dates, kissing you when nobody else was around. I thought you would’ve caught on sooner,” Kurt said half-jokingly. 

“I did notice,” Blaine said in a defensive tone. “But I think I was scared. Scared I was making it all up in my head. I didn’t wanna lose you, Kurt. I never want to lose you.”

A little later, they pulled up in Kurt's driveway.

“It’s not too late,” Kurt said as he checked the time on his phone. 9:36. “Would you like to come inside for a bit? I’m not really ready to say goodbye to you yet.” 

“I would love to.” Blaine smiled at Kurt. 

They both got out of the car. Blaine walked behind Kurt, following him to the house. As Kurt was walking in front of him, Blaine couldn’t help but stare at him. How perfectly he moved, the way his dress pants hugged his ass and tall legs so very well, how his shoulders filled out his shirt perfectly now that he had his jacket draped over his arm, and how soft his hair looked. Blaine felt his heart rate speeding up as he realised that he was now allowed to look. He wasn’t creeping on his friend; he was admiring his boyfriend . 

When they walked inside, Kurt noticed a note on the counter. “ Emergency call in at the shop. Won't be home until midnight. Hope you had a nice dinner. - Dad .” 

Oh, Kurt thought. They were home alone. Finn was sleeping over at Puck’s, and Carole always worked the night shift at the hospital on Fridays. And now his dad wouldn’t be home until late. 

“Ehm, it, eh…seems we have the place to ourselves.” Kurt’s voice sounded breathy as he stared at the note in his hand.

“It does.” Blaine felt the weight behind those words. He tried to figure out what that meant for them now they were officially a couple. He moved closer to Kurt until Kurt was standing with his back to the counter. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Kurt blurted out, not really sure about what to do either. 

“Eh… No, thank you.” Blaine smiled. “But I—Can we go up to your room?” 

Kurt swallowed hard and just nodded, heat creeping up his neck. Then, he moved away from Blaine, and they headed up the stairs into Kurt’s room. 

Once in Kurt’s room, both boys sat down next to each other on the edge of Kurt’s bed. Blaine was playing with the cuff of his shirt while Kurt just stared at his hands.

“This is weird,” Kurt remarked.

Blaine’s head shot in Kurt’s direction. There it was. Kurt was already regretting this. Now that he had Blaine, he’d realised it wasn’t what he wanted. “Wh-what?” Blaine stammered.

“I mean, I just—I don't know how to act now,” Kurt said, blushing. “I don’t know if things have changed between us. I didn’t really expect today to turn out this way.”

Relieved at Kurt's words, Blaine sighed. Thank god. That was better than he expected. And to be honest, he felt the same. It suddenly all felt very new. Exciting but strange. “Oh, well… I don't think things have to be any different if you don't want them to be. Just knowing that the things we are doing are real now is what matters. We’ve been acting mostly on instinct in the past. I say we just keep doing that.” 

Kurt looked up and smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“How about we just watch a movie, hm? No pressure.” He nudged Kurt's shoulder with his own, earning him a smile from Kurt. 

“That sounds perfect.” 

So, Kurt put on The Devil Wears Prada (one of their favourite movies), and they snuggled up together on the bed, linking their arms. Blaine rested his head on Kurt’s right shoulder. This was nice. He felt comfortable and close to Kurt. But as the movie progressed, he kept feeling Kurt's eyes on him more and more often. So, Blaine looked up, meeting Kurt’s gaze, and suddenly, the movie played forgotten in the background. Kurt moved his left hand to cup Blaine’s jaw and stroked his thumb across his skin so softly that Blaine shivered. 

“Just acting on instinct, right?” Kurt’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Uh-huh,” Blaine breathed in agreement.

Kurt leaned in to kiss Blaine, moving on top of him in the process.

This was new. Blaine felt Kurt's body flush against him. The shift in weight was overwhelming, but god, did it feel good. 

Their kisses were tentative but got more open-mouthed as they continued. Their breathing got heavier, and soft moans rose from deep in their throats. 

Kurt moved away from Blaine's mouth and started a trail of open mouth kisses down his jaw to his neck. 

“Oh, god,” Blaine moaned. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to take in what was happening. Never in a million years had he expected to be there in that moment. He felt so good it was like he was floating. He was happy Kurt was there to keep him grounded. 

As Kurt’s kisses turned into sucking, arousal was spreading through Blaine’s body, and he couldn’t stop himself from rocking up his hips. He was getting hard, and he realised he wasn't the only one. And suddenly, he felt a bit overwhelmed. 

“Kurt,” Blaine breathed. 

Taking hearing his name as encouragement, Kurt rolled his hips down.

“Kurt, wait.”

Kurt stopped his movements immediately and moved his mouth away from Blaine’s neck. “Fuck, Blaine, I’m sorry. Was that too much?” He looked at Blaine with a concerned look on his face. 

“No. Not necessarily. What you’re doing feels wonderful.” He gave Kurt an encouraging smile. “But before we continue, I just wanna make sure that we’re both okay. I don’t want anything to happen that one of us isn’t comfortable with.” Blaine thought back to some of his less enjoyable moments between the sheets and never wanted to regret anything else he did with another person in bed. Nor would he want to make anyone feel the way he felt about some of his experiences with Sebastian. 

“Oh.” Kurt’s face relaxed. “Yeah, of course. I mean, I don’t really have any experience beyond this point, but so far, everything's been great.” He smiled a sweet smile, which made Blaine's heart melt. “Are you okay?” 

Blaine sighed. Of course, things would be okay. He was with Kurt. Kurt would never do anything to make him feel uncomfortable. “Definitely. Let’s just agree that we keep checking in with each other, okay?” he said as he stroked some hairs from Kurt’s forehead with the tips of his fingers. 

“Sounds perfect.” They smiled at each other for a while before Kurt spoke again. “Can I…continue kissing you now?” 

Blaine laughed. “Yes, you can.” 

Kurt pressed a soft kiss to Blaine’s lips and then another, and then the kiss deepened. Soon, they were back where they’d left off. Blaine was grabbing at Kurt’s shirt, untucking it from his pants, and letting his hands roam over his back. It occurred to him that he’d never felt so much of Kurt’s skin before. It was warm and incredibly smooth. Kurt’s hands were moving up Blaine’s chest and started undoing the buttons of his collar, creating more room for his mouth to trail down Blaine’s chest until Blaine's shirt was laying open around his torso. They sat up slightly so Blaine could shrug it off completely. At the same time, Kurt opened only the first few buttons of his shirt and just pulled it over his head. Blaine stared at the way Kurt’s muscles moved and stretched with the movement that seemed to happen in slow motion.

“God, you’re sexy,” Blaine gushed. 

Kurt blushed. He had never been called sexy before. “You’re one to talk,” he said. Kurt’s eyes roamed over Blaine’s torso. His olive skin stretched over slight muscles, covered by a soft layer of stomach, and right below that stomach, a pair of very distinct “V” lines that guided Kurt’s eyes right to the bulge in Blaine's pants. Kurt swallowed at the sight. They had seen each other shirtless before, but they were never allowed to really look . 

“Can I touch you? Fuck, Blaine, I really wanna touch you.” 

“Please.” 

They both lurched forward again. Their kisses became wilder, and Kurt’s hand travelled lower until he was cupping Blaine through his pants. He stroked a few times along Blaine's length, and Blaine groaned. “Jezus, Kurt. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Blaine said between kisses before he bucked up his hips into Kurt's touch. He let his hands glide over Kurt's back until he had hold of his ass. He pulled him closer and felt Kurt’s erection press into his hip. This already felt so much better than anything he and Sebastian had ever done. Probably because it meant something. To both of them. 

“Kurt, can I take your pants off?” Blaine asked but regretted it immediately as he noticed Kurt freezing up a little. “We don’t have to!” he rushed to say after. 

“No! I mean, that's okay! I was just thinking. I think I would like to keep my underwear on tonight. Is that okay with you? It’s just a little difficult to think straight. It all feels so good, but I don’t want to move too fast in the moment.”

“Of course, that’s okay! That’s more than okay. I am just so grateful I get to do this with you,” he said and pressed a kiss to Kurt's collarbone.

“Then, yes. You can take my pants off. But only if you lose yours, too!” Kurt gave Blaine a flirtatious wink, which Blaine returned with a bright smile. He felt so lucky to be there with Kurt. With good communication and the love between them, nothing could go wrong tonight. So, Blaine then rolled them over so he was on top of Kurt and sat up on his knees. He unbuttoned his fly and wiggled out of his pants. He then moved to unbuckle Kurt’s belt and undid his fly. He pulled his pants down and off his legs and couldn’t help but leave a few kisses on his thigh as he moved. When Blaine sat back up, he positively gaped at Kurt. This was a whole new sight to get used to. Kurt was wearing tight, dark green, army-printed boxers that contrasted heavenly with the lightness of his skin. His long legs were lean, muscular, and dusted with soft hair. “Sorry. I don’t mean to stare,” Blaine said, trying and failing to tear his eyes away from Kurt’s body. “But wow .” 

“Stop it! You’re making me blush!” Kurt complained, but there was no real heat in his voice. “Now, come back here,” he said and made grabby hands at Blaine. 

When Blaine broke his gaze to look at Kurt's face again, he noticed that Kurt was staring at him, too. “And you’re criticising me…” he murmured but moved down to Kurt again. He straddled him this time, which made the connection between them all the more intense. “Still okay?” he asked.

“Wonderful,” Kurt said and pulled Blaine in by his neck to kiss him again. 

They were rocking their bodies together, taking their time, enjoying each other and the closeness they felt. Blaine moved to kiss Kurt behind his jaw right below his ear, and the response he got was immediate. Kurt let out a deep moan and dug his fingers into Blaine's skin. That moan must have been the most beautiful sound Blaine had ever heard. He loved making Kurt feel this good, so he did it again. But this time, he sucked on Kurt's skin there and bit down slightly, right when grinding his hips against Kurt’s. 

Kurt cried , “ Omg, Blaine. Whatever you do, don’t stop. ” 

So Blaine didn’t. One of his hands moved up to tangle into Kurt's hair. He tugged at it slightly to tilt Kurt's head and give himself more room. 

Kurt wrapped his arms tightly around Blaine. His back arched up, and he couldn’t seem to keep his legs still as he tried to get Blaine as close as he possibly could. 

Blaine was close alright. He couldn’t help letting out a moan himself. Kurt was so sexy like this, so unashamed in his pleasure. It turned Blaine on endlessly. It also didn’t help that Kurt felt so big against him. He couldn't help but let his mind wander. Maybe in the future, Kurt would let him ride him like this. Or press him against the mattress to just have him. Or the other way around. It didn’t matter. He realised at that moment he would accept anything Kurt Hummel would give him. 

“ Blaine, I need—I am—, ” Kurt panted. His movements became uncontrolled, and Blaine felt him twitching below him until Kurt’s movements staggered and stilled and, “Ah…” Kurt let out a last soft moan as his body tensed up before he relaxed. 

Realising what happened was what sent Blaine over the edge. He buried his face in the crook of Kurt’s neck, rolled his hips down one last time, and came. It felt like fireworks exploded in his head. He’d never felt this connected to another person. When he came down, he let his body fall next to Kurt’s. 

They laid next to each other, panting. That's when emotions got a hold of Blaine. He started laughing softly and bit his lip as tears sprung into his eyes, his giggles mixed with cries. His mind was racing. He felt so happy, so warm and satisfied. He thought of Kurt’s kind words and warm touches but also of quick jerkoff sessions with Sebastian. He was angry he hadn’t waited for Kurt, but at the same time, he felt so relieved he was there now with him, that those times didn’t matter anymore. 

Kurt looked over at the shorter boy and propped himself up on his elbow. He layed a comforting hand on his chest and stroked his thumb across his skin. “Blaine?” Kurt gave him a meaningful look. “Are you okay?”

He sniffled and looked at Kurt. “Yeah. Yeah it's just—I just realised that this is what it should always have felt like.” He gave Kurt a watery smile. “I’m just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.” 

Kurt smiled at him. “That's okay. Me, too,” he said kindly. “I am so happy to be here with you.” He kissed Blaine on his temple and snuggled in close. “That was amazing. You were amazing. Thank you.”

Blaine turned to take Kurt in his arms. “I love you,” he whispered into Kurt’s hair. 

“I love you, too.”

They stayed like that for a while. Holding each other close, basking in the afterglow. 

“What time is it?” Blaine asked after a while. 

Kurt looked at the clock on his wall. “11:24,” he answered. 

“I should probably get home. I don’t think we wanna wait until your dad gets back.” 

Kurt pouted at him but sighed. “You’re probably right.” 

“Do you have some, eh, underwear I could borrow?” Blaine asked, blushing.

“ Oh .” Kurt turned an equal shade of red. “Yes. Of course.”

—*—

Prom day

When Kurt woke up the next morning, he still felt butterflies in his stomach. Last night had been incredible. He could hardly believe it. Not only was Blaine Anderson his real, actual boyfriend, but they’d had sex . Kurt covered his face with his hands and kicked his feet as he laid on his bed, the same bed he and Blaine had had sex on mere hours ago. He grabbed his phone to text Blaine only to find Blaine had already texted him. “ Last night was perfect. I love you.” Kurt’s smile broadened, and he texted back, “ It really was. Love you, too. Can’t wait for tonight, Boyfriend. ;)”. Kurt had no idea how he was going to act normally today. Or ever again. Still, he got out of bed and went downstairs for breakfast. His father was already sitting at the kitchen table. 

“Morning, Dad!” Kurt said in what he hoped was a normal, inconspicuous voice, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face. He poured himself some coffee and sat down across from his dad.

“Morning, kid. Had fun last night?”

Kurt nearly choked on his coffee. “Wh-what?” How could his dad possibly know about last night?

“The dinner party?” Burt raised an eyebrow at his son. “Did you have a good time?” 

“Oh…” Kurt cleared his throat. “…That. What else could you be talking about?” He let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah. It was really fun. Rachel’s parents are great cooks.” He tried to recover with an innocent smile. Great job, Hummel. Nice way to throw yourself under the bus.  

Burt gave him a suspicious look. “Anything I should know about?” 

Kurt shrugged. “No,” he said as innocently as possible, though he failed to keep eye contact with his father.

“Kurt, are you and Blaine being safe?”

Kurt’s eyebrows shot up in horror. “Oh, my god, Dad! ” Kurt exclaimed. 

“I just want you to be careful. I don’t want you to do anything you might regret later.” 

“ This can’t be happening,” Kurt said to himself, letting his head fall back. “If you must know, Blaine and I are completely fine.” Better than ever, actually.

“Alright. That’s all I’m asking.” Burt raised his hands apologetically. “But next time, don’t take advantage of an empty house. Just ask me, alright? I trust you Kurt, but rules are rules.”

Kurt wanted to disappear into a hole in the ground. “Yes, Dad.” 

“Good.” Burt nodded firmly. “So, are you excited for Prom tonight?” he asked, moving on from the awkward topic. 

Kurt nodded. “Yes. I am.” He smiled at his dad. “Blaine and I are gonna wear matching shirts, and I only have to add some final touches to my lapels. But that’ll only take me about an hour or so.” 

“Sounds great, son,” Burt said. 

They continued to chat about Kurt’s plans for his outfit while they ate their breakfast. Burt might not really understand what Kurt was talking about, but he smiled along just the same. He was proud of his son and happy he had a passion. He knew Kurt would go on to do great things, especially with Blaine by his side. 

—*—

That night, Kurt was standing in front of his mirror. Using a lint roller, he tried to get the last bits of dust off of his jacket. He turned around and looked himself over. He looked great. His suit was tailored to perfection, hugging him in all the right places. He was really happy with all the little added details. The embroidered corners on his lapels matched the embroidered stripes along the outside of the legs of his pants and his bowtie, the beautiful golden vintage buttons he found at a flea market once and had saved for a special occasion, and of course, the pleated shirt that would match perfectly with Blaine’s. Blaine would pick him up at 7:50. It was 7:42. Kurt let out a shaky breath. Why was he suddenly so nervous? 

There was a knock on his door. 

“Yeah?” Kurt called. 

“Hey, little bro, you almost ready?” Finn walked into his room, wearing a simple black suit that, Kurt had to admit, looked good on him. Of course, he had helped Finn take it in at the back to fit him better, but still. Honestly, what would the men in his life do without him? “Oh, wow. You look awesome!” Finn said enthusiastically.

Kurt’s heart swelled. He did look awesome. He’d worked hard on his outfit, and he was proud of it. “Thank you, Finn.” He smiled at his brother. “You don’t look half bad yourself,” Kurt said, earning him one of Finn’s signature crooked smiles. “What’s up?”

“Blaine’s here,” Finn told him. “I was just about to head out to go get Rachel, and he was standing right outside our door. He’s downstairs.”

“He’s early!” Kurt said. “He’s usually so on time.” 

“Yeah. He apologised for that as well. Honestly, I think if I hadn’t opened the door, he would just have been waiting there until he was right on time,” Finn chuckled.

Kurt smiled at that. Yeah. That did sound like Blaine. “I’ll come down with you. I’m done here.” He grabbed a little box from his desk and followed Finn downstairs. 

Blaine stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking like a damn prince. Kurt hadn’t seen him fully styled in his finished outfit yet, and oh, my god, Kurt almost fell down the stairs as Blaine just completely swept him off his feet. 

“Easy there, beautiful.” Blaine steadied his boyfriend and helped him down the last few steps. 

Kurt hardly noticed Finn when he headed out with a, “ Well, I’m going to get Rachel. See you guys at Prom. ” 

“You look…” Kurt started but didn’t have the words to finish. Blaine’s suit fit him perfectly. The silk black jacket was made for him. Literally . But what Kurt noticed most was Blaine's hair. Instead of the thick layer of gel, his hair was styled beautifully. It still kind of resembled Blaine’s usual style, but it looked softer and more voluminous, and you could still actually see that his hair was curly. “Your hair,” Kurt said and reached out to touch it gently, careful not to ruin the shape.

“You like it? Jeff’s sister did it for me. The same one who helped me get my curls to cooperate at Rachel's party that time.” 

“Like it? Blaine, it looks perfect. You look perfect.” 

Blaine gave Kurt a bashful smile. “Well, I feel like I had to step up my game, knowing I was going to Prom with the most beautiful and fashionable person in school,” he flirted. ���Still not completely on your level, though. You look incredible, Kurt.” Blaine let his fingers trail over the patterns on Kurt’s lapels before letting his hand rest on his shoulder and started playing with his collar. 

Kurt blushed at the compliment and stepped closer to Blaine. “It’s still missing something, though,” he said softly and presented the little box to Blaine. 

Blaine raised an eyebrow and took the box from Kurt. He opened it, and inside were two small, white floral pieces with golden ribbons. 

“I made us matching corsages,” Kurt said and took one of them from the box and pinned it to Blaine's jacket. 

Blaine was taken aback by the sweet gesture. Kurt had already done so much for him for this Prom. “ Kurt, ” he breathed,“they are beautiful. Thank you so much.” He pulled Kurt into a hug and held him close. 

That hug was exactly what Kurt needed to calm the last remaining nerves he had. Tonight was going to be great. He was going to dance with Blaine all night. And heck, they might even win Prom Kings. When they pulled apart, Kurt pinned the second corsage to his own jacket. “Ready to go?” 

Blaine nodded, and they went out together. 

—*—

When they walked in around 8:15, the Prom was already in full swing. The gym was decorated with balloons, banners, garlands, and streamers; colourful lights danced around the room, loud pop music was playing over the speakers, and people were dancing happily. That year, the Glee Club had agreed to perform only a few live numbers, alternated by a DJ who would fill the rest of the evening with music. 

Kurt took Blaine by his hand and pulled him along in search of their friends on the dance floor. They quickly spotted Mercedes, Sam, Tina, and Mike. Mike was performing some sort of complex choreography to “Glad You Came.” The others tried to follow but had trouble keeping up, so they were mostly just laughing and jumping along. 

“Hey, guys!” Kurt called over the music.

“Kurt! Blaine!” The other’s greeted them with happy waves and hugs.

“Oh, Mercedes! Tina! You both look beautiful!” Kurt said, and the girls twirled to show off their dresses.

The six of them danced and laughed to a few songs until they were interrupted by a girl’s voice. “Well, well, well. If it isn't lady Hummel and his hobbit bride.” 

“Nice to see you, too, Santana,” Blaine said, rolling his eyes, but there wasn't any real heat in the gesture. 

Santana looked at them, scanning both boys from head to toe. They were standing close together with their shoulders touching and their hands brushing together. “Oh, my god , I don’t believe it,” she said. A devious smile broke out on her face. “So, Blaine finally popped your cherry, didn’t he, Hummel!” Santana taunted, her eyes sparkling with mischief. 

Blaine froze and instantly turned scarlet. Kurt just gaped at her. 

“I fucking knew it!” she said triumphantly. “Way to go, Twinkle Toes!” 

Kurt gave her an exasperated look. “How do you know that!?” he exclaimed in disbelief before turning to Blaine. “How could she possibly know that!?” 

Santana pointed to her forehead as if to say “ Mexican third eye ” and laughed. “No, but for real, guys, I’m happy for you. It was about time.” She winked at them. “Well, I gotta run. My duet with Brittany is about to start. See you later!”

“She is unbelievable,” Kurt muttered as Santana ran off towards the stage. 

Still looking completely shocked, Blaine turned to Kurt. “I will never be able to look her in the eye again.” 

When the song ended, they all turned their heads to the stage as Brittany and Santana walked on. 

“Hey, everyone!” Brittany shouted to the crowd. “Are you ready to dance?” 

The crowd cheered in response.

“The voting for Prom King and Queen isn’t closed yet! So remember to vote ‘Brittana’ as your Prom Queens!” Santana cheered.

“And ‘Klaine’ as your Kings!” Brittany finished. 

Santana signalled to the band. The drummer counted down, and Santana started singing the opening notes to “Where Have You Been” By Rihanna. The song suited her voice perfectly, and the whole gym erupted in cheers. Everyone started dancing and singing along to the girls’ happy and flirty duet.

Kurt, Blaine, and the others were dancing and jumping and just having an amazing time. This is what Prom should be like, Kurt thought. No drama, no stress, just having fun. But then, from the corner of his eye, he saw Karofsky entering the gym, followed by—Kurt’s heart stopped for a moment— Sebastian Smythe dressed in a maroon suit. What the hell was he doing there? 

“ Blaine! ” Kurt whispered to his boyfriend. “ Look! ” 

Blaine turned to follow Kurt’s eyes, and when he saw, he shot a worried look back at Kurt. “Sebastian?” He grabbed Kurt’s hand, needing the support of his boyfriend. The sight of Sebastian made Blaine feel instantly on edge. “Why would he want to come to our Prom? How did he even get in?”

“I don’t know, but I don't trust him. Not one bit.” Kurt’s eyes were shooting daggers at the Warbler. 

“I don’t want him to ruin things, Kurt. I don't want to have to worry about him. Not tonight,” Blaine said, his voice sounding sad and worried. 

“He’s got nothing on us, Blaine. Whatever he’s planning, it won't succeed, okay?” Kurt glanced around quickly but realised he didn’t care if people saw, so he leaned forward and gave Blaine a quick, reassuring kiss. 

—*—

“Alright. I got you in. I’m gonna go find my date now,” Dave said to Sebastian, looking around nervously. He didn’t want to be associated with Sebastian or whatever he was planning for tonight. 

“You’re leaving me already? Sebastian said and cocked an eyebrow. 

“That was the deal, remember? What you do with your time is your business. I don't want anything to do with it.” 

“Oh, please. Just last week, you were still all for capturing Hummel in those sausage fingers of yours. Don’t act all innocent on me now.” 

“You aren’t a very nice guy, Sebastian. No wonder Blaine doesn’t want anything to do with you,” Dave said as he turned around and walked off. 

“Fine. Enjoy your sad little party while you leave me with the dirty work,” Sebastian spat after him. He looked around until he spotted one of the band members. Time to set this plan in motion.

—*—

After Brittany and Santana were done with their duet, the DJ had picked up again, playing a mixture of pop songs and oldies until it was time for Kurt and Blaine to make their way to the stage. 

“You ready?” Kurt asked. 

Blaine shrugged. “I guess so. A little nervous about his whole Sebastian situation, though.”

Kurt sighed. “Try not to think about him. Don’t let him ruin your night before he’s even done anything at all. Heck, for all we know, he’s here to apologise.”

Blaine laughed. “ Hah! Good one. Sebastian and apologising. I can’t name a less likely duo.” He rolled his eyes but still gave Kurt a smile. “But you’re right. I was really looking forward to singing with you tonight. I’m not gonna let that rat ruin that for me.”

“That's more like it!!” Kurt gave Blaine a kiss on his cheek, and they walked on stage. 

Kurt looked at the sea of students and spotted his friends. They were all smiling up at them. He also spotted Karofsky standing next to Landon. So that’s who Landon has been smashing boards with. He chuckled to himself. The one person he didn’t see, however, was Sebastian, which worried him. He didn't have much time to think about it though, as Blaine took one of the microphones in his hand. “Vote Klaine for your Prom Kings!” he shouted into the gym as the band started playing the intro of “ The Promise ” by When In Rome. The crowd applauded, their friends cheering the loudest. 

Blaine started off by singing his verse. He walked towards Kurt in a ceremonious manner, swaying to the song, serenading him.

If you need a friend Don't look to a stranger You know in the end I'll always be there

They quickly spun around each other, as they had practised in their choreography, and then Kurt took over, pointing dramatically at Blaine as he started singing the next verse.

And when you're in doubt And when you're in danger Take a look all around And I'll be there

As the chorus started, they went on to harmonise with Blaine singing lead and Kurt the echos.

I'm sorry but I'm just thinking of the right words to say (I promise you) I know they don't sound the way I planned them to be (I promise you) But if you wait around a while I'll make you fall for me (I promise you) I promise, I promise you, I will

They were smiling at each other and sharing loving looks as they felt the truth behind the lyrics. Their performance was going great. Their voices sounded like honey and their movements timed perfectly to the music. Tiny beads of sweat were forming on their foreheads from the warm stage lights. Any thoughts of Sebastian had fallen to the background. Until —

“STOP THE MUSIC!” A loud voice tore Kurt and Blaine from their bubble. What in the world? The band faltered as Sebastian burst onto the stage. He grabbed the microphone from Kurt’s hand and shot him a false grin. 

“These people—” Sebastian pointed at Kurt and Blaine, who stared at him with stunned faces. “—have been selling you a lie! ” he shouted. 

The audience was dead quiet, waiting anxiously to hear what this stranger had to say. 

“They are not really dating! They are faking it!” He had an insane expression on his face. 

“Oh, please. What a bunch of bullcrap,” Santana shouted from the crowd below. “They literally had sex just last night.” Laughter broke out amongst the rest of the students. 

Sebastian, slightly taken aback, continued his speech. “I know what you might be thinking. They look all perfect and in love, but I’m telling you, it’s all an act!” The crowd started exchanging excited whispers amongst each other. They looked from Kurt and Blaine to Sebastian and back. 

“Dude, what are you talking about? They are literally in love,” Sam now piped up. 

Sebastian looked around. The people in the crowd stared back at him, all with disbelieving looks on their faces. “I-I have been tracking their phones and following them from the beginning!” 

“You what ?” a female voice bellowed from the side of the stage, and Sebastian’s head shot in her direction. Sue Sylvester was looking at him with a face that could murder.

#The Prom-us #the prom-us #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic roulette- the prom-us #the prom us #klaine fanfic #klaine #the promus #glee #signal boost

[ekman]

Si ces vieux ne sont plus visités par leurs enfants, c'est à l'évidence qu'ils les ont fort mal éduqués. Les pseudos valeurs d'indépendance, d'autonomie, d'émancipation tant promues après 68 ont généré des déserts affectifs nommés EHPAD, mieux connus sous le nom de mouroirs. On a volontairement brisé tout ce qui pouvait tenir la famille debout et couper les liens entre les générations : la consommation exige cela, c'est à dire la satisfaction immédiate de besoins fabriqués et l'autocentrage des individus. La fin de la culture condamne au néant émotionnel et à l'abandon physique. J.-M. M.

[claudehenrion]

Macron va stériliser (sic !) l'infertilité...( I )

Dans le tas de mauvaises nouvelles dont aucune ne donne envie de savoir quelle sera la suivante dans la liste, une lueur d'espoir, tout de même : il était temps ! A cause de (ou grâce à) un effondrement historique (et pas moins catastrophique pour autant) de notre natalité, le''plus jeune président de l'histoire de la république et son plus jeune premier ministre depuis la nuit des temps'' (il paraît que ce serait un compliment, pour eux... alors que tout le monde --sauf eux-- sait que la valeur des années –comme celle des damnés-- n'a pas de corrélation avec la longueur du la barbe du capitaine) vont résoudre le problème de la fertilité... dont la leur démontre qu'ils ne dominent pas vraiment le problème !

Mais comme rien n'est jamais simple dans la vie (et encore moins simple dans notre ''Etat dont le roi est un enfant''(pour rendre hommage à l'Ecclésiaste qui voyait dans ce seul manque de pot complet la source de tous les malheurs possibles), il a fallu que nos jeunes immatures s'amusent à faire une chose et son contraire, comme ils adorent le faire pour ''emmerder'' (c'est eux qui le disent) les adultes : au moment où notre président prend enfin conscience que notre démographie plonge sans espoir (au moins, tant qu'il s'entêtera à ne pas prendre les 3 mesures simples qui résoudraient le problème ''pour de bon'')... il faut qu'il aille, allez savoir pourquoi, relancer un combat mortel entre le Bien et le Mal et entre le Vrai et le Faux, qui ne peut que nous faire plonger encore plus profondément dans ce mal irrémédiable : une néfaste ''constitutionnalisation'' (un mot affreux pour une chose encore plus affreuse) : on panthéonise --c'est une idée fixe, chez Macron-- l'abandon de facto du serment d'Hippocrate (''Tu ne tueras pas'') et de la liberté de conscience –et de parole, tant qu'on y est : on est progressiste, ou on ne l'est pas !

(NDLR : il faut vite que j'écrive ces mots ''à ne jamais oublier et à soigneusement conserver dans nos mémoires'' : dès demain, il sera interdit d'émettre la moindre vérité non con-forme à l'assassinat ''dans les règles'' de bébés à la veille de naître. Notre société cannibale ignore ceux qui ne peuvent pas descendre dans la rue et tout casser (les très vieux et les trop jeunes). Rappel : pour avorter à 14 semaines, il faut écraser le crâne du bébé-à-naître (eux disent ''fœtus'' : ils croient ainsi n'assassiner personne, ce qui est le plus gros mensonge de l'histoire de la science).

Vous me direz que, après les immenses conneries qui ont escorté le covid, toutes sirènes hurlantes, vers une cata XXL dont on commence à peine à apercevoir les limites illimitées... on aurait dû savoir que la seule chose à laquelle il faut s'attendre, c'est ''le pire'', avec les gangs de clowns tristes qui ne nous mènent que ''nulle part''. Mais l'âme humaine, que quelques uns croient ''faite à l'image de Dieu'' –NB : ce qui ne veut pas dire que Dieu, lui, soit ''à l'image de l'homme'' et ressemble à Macron : à la rigueur, certains l'ont comparé à Jupiter, les pauvres. Mais à Dieu... Ah ! ça... non, Dieu merci, si j'ose !-- est pleine de ressources, et refuse ce qui serait trop lourd pour elle à supporter... Un faible espoir pour une catastrophe irrémédiable... dont personne n'avait besoin.

Mais revenons à l'infertilité, promue ''grande cause nationale'', ce qui veut dire qu'on va nommer, à grands frais pour changer, un ''comité d'experts'' (comme les médicastres qui ont menti et/ou se sont trompés sur tout, à propos du covid –-- ou, à propos de l'Ukraine, ces généraux dont pas un seul n'a imaginé ce qui s'est passé, et qui continuent à refuser de voir ce qui crève les yeux : ils ont eu tout faux depuis le début !) qui vont aligner poncifs, fausses évidences et lieux communs sur un sujet sur lequel ils sont… puceaux ! Ce comité ne sera certainement pas ''Théodule'' --ce qui veut dire, étymologiquement : ''qui est au service de Dieu !''--, mais plutôt ''théoclaste'' (= qui brise Dieu) ou théophage (= qui bouffe du dieu)... mais son inefficacité coûteuse, foncière, incontournable n'est déjà plus à démontrer (elle est ''de système').

Grâce aux crétineries XXL de hollande, et par la faute des faux-prophètes d'un réchauffement général (qui rendent les avions, les SUV et les bagnoles au diesel responsables de la sécheresse au Sahara !), la France, cette ex-bonne élève de la démographie, rentre dans le rang et n'assure plus le fameux ''remplacement des générations'', ce qui justifie le vent de panique chez nos pseudo-élites –qui tremblent à l'idée qu'il y ait moins de con-tribuables pour leurs fins de mois-- et les poncifs idiots de nos puceaux ès-gauloiseries (alors qu'il suffirait, là comme ailleurs, de simplement annuler toutes les mesures stupides prises par hollande, responsable et coupable).

Mais manque de pot, c'est sur la terre entière que ce phénomène est perceptible. Les géographes de l'Université de Bruxelles viennent de terminer une étude qui démontre que –tenez-vous bien !- 64,4 % de la population mondiale se situe sous le seuil du simple renouvellement des générations. Pour l'Institut démographique de Vienne (en Autriche, pas dans le Dauphiné !), 1/3 des femmes d'Asie (Japon, Sud Corée, Singapour, Taïwan...) n'auront pas d'enfant... Et les chiffres officiels de l'ONU (pour ce que vaut cette source empoisonnée !) s'inquiètent (se réjouissent, plus souvent !) d'une ''Baisse massive de la fécondité de 2000 à 2020''. Nos auto-préposés à la gaudriole ont du pain sur la planche ! Et s'ils n'étaient pas aussi infatués, prétentieux et incultes, ils connaîtraient la suite de la triste vérité :

Le ''taux de fécondité'' était , mondialement, de 4,8 enfants par femme en 1970, tombait à 3,7 en 1980, puis à 3,3 en 1990, à 2,8 en 2000 avant de se ramasser à 2,3 en 2021 –dernier chiffre disponible. ''Ça, Madame, c'est de la chute... ou je m'y connais pas'', dirait mon amie Madame Michu ! Et comme pour compliquer la tache tâche de notre Comité théophobe en gestation, on apprend que les zones où la fécondité est ''très faible'' (c'est-à-dire inférieure à 1,7 enfant par femme) repr��sentent 40,8 % de la Terre, dont toute l'Europe. C'est dans ce club de 3ème division que la France vient de faire son entrée : première en con-FISC-ation, mais dernière pour la bagatelle (présenté comme ça... on commence à comprendre : le lemme n°2 est une conséquence du lemme n°1, CQFD !). Mais même les régions ''à forte natalité'' (> 3,5 enfants par femme), concentrées en Afrique sub-saharienne et en Asie du Sud-est, ont commencé une forte décrue (elles viennent de 5, voire 7, en moyenne !) grâce à ou à cause des études des filles et (donc) de l'âge au premier enfant... et de la contraception, même pas con-stitutionnelle, là-bas. Ils vont avoir du bouleau, nos puceaux !

Le monde actuel, dans le fond, est beaucoup plus rigolo que nous, ses utilisateurs / usagers, ne le vivons : il se complaît à nous faire des niches perpétuelles, et à peine les plus prétentieux d'entre nous ont-ils la vague impression qu'ils commencent à piger un truc (ce qu'ils transforment aussitôt en ''programmes absurdes'' s'ils sont députés européens ou –et c'est pire !-- membres de la grosse Commission qui assassine l'Europe sous ses mauvaises idées... C'est simple : entre eux et nos ministres, on ne peut dire qui est le plus pervers, le plus vicelard, le plus nocif, le plus mortifère...

Au moment où ils racontent qu'il voudraient lutter contre le refroidissement démographique ambiant (= la fin, à terme, de toute humanité), ils n'ont rien trouvé de plus contre-performant que de ''sanctifier'' un faux principe démoniaque... Toutes les données vont être bouleversées et mises cul par dessus tête, nos Nuls n'ayant, évidemment, rien vu venir des catastrophes immenses que ce vote (que je me dépêche de dire criminel avant le ''saut vers la mort''--et non pas ''de la mort''-- qui entrera en vigueur demain), va –et ne peut que-- entraîner... Encore eût-il fallu qu'ils sachent (NDLR-2 : je préfère cette forme à ''sussent'', grammaticalement plus correct mais qui peut prêter à sourire, le monde et nos politiciens étant... ce que nous savons !) ''de quoi ils blatèrent''...

H-Cl.

[randomnameless]

@lilias42 replied to your post “@dimiclaudeblaigan replied to your post “About...”:

1 Même AG se tire une balle dans le pied avec Miklan vu que bon, Dimitri préfère faire devenir général Miklan qui est un ancien noble malgré le fait qu'il soit un brigand sadique qui pille et tue pour le fun, ravisseur de femme et fratricide et persécuteur d'enfant avéré tout ça parce qu'il n'a pas hérité de Matthias (alors que Matthias le préfère à Sylvain parce que femme dans le frigo et ne fait rien pour protéger son cadet)

​2 plutôt qu'un roturier x s'étant illustré au combat dans son armée (il aurait aussi pu choisir un ancien brigand mais en disant qu'il l'était pour manger, pas pour tout brûler par caprice) Pour quelqu’un qui veut donner une meilleure place aux roturiers, ça la fiche assez mal

Mais non, l'histoire du roturier qui transcende sa condition tellement il est badass c'est la route de Dedel ça! Et apparemment, c'est la backstory de Ladislava, mais elle meurt avant qu'on puisse dire ouf!

Plus sérieusement, je ne sais pas si l'axe voulu c'était le "même sans emblème un quidam (oui il est noble et donc à eu au minimum une bonne éducation dans ces domaines alors ce n'est pas vraiment in quidam) peut devenir général" ou le "seconde chance pour tous : même si vous avez poutré des randoms, essayé de tuer des bébés et fait des bisous non consentis à des femmes, vous pouvez vous racheter!".

Parce que bon, le coup du "mais Sylvain a dit qu'il était ok avec ça" c'est certes gentil pour lui, mais perso, ça renvoie un image plutôt moche du Royaume, si on offre des portes de sortie à des criminels comme ça parce qu'on est en temps de guerre et qu'on a besoin de bras/têtes. Dimitri a aussi demandé aux paysans abusés et aux femmes séduites si elles étaient d'accord avec son plan? C'est quoi ce message, la peine de Miklan est commuée en "il devient général" même s'il est censé être surveillé et peut être exécuté à la moindre incartade (comme n'importe quel autre général qui voudrait faire des "incartades" similaires à ce qu'il avait fait en tant que bandit)?

Encore à la limite si on nous disait qu'il n'y avait pas que Miklan qui a bénéficié de cette "opportunité" mais tout son gang de losers, pourquoi pas - il n'y aurait pas que lui qui bénéficierait de cette "seconde chance" mais aussi les bandits quelconques qui l'accompagnaient pour effacer ce doute et dire à tout le monde, ancien noble ou bandit quelconque, qu'ils peuvent se racheter en défendant le pays, et pas seulement offrir cette opportunité à Miklan parce qu'il est le frère de Sylvain et le fils de Matthias...

Au final, il meurt en héros (pauvre Ladislava, tout le monde s'en fout de sa mort!) donc Dimitri avait fait le bon choix et Miklan a bien saisi l'opportunité pour essayer de se racheter, même si j'aurais quand même préféré voir Dimiri organiser une escouade de gens quelconques, dont aurait fait partie Miklan en tant que soldat (et pas en tant que général) comme "punition" au lieu d'être exécuté, avec, je ne sais pas, entre plusieurs chapitres l'escouade des gens quelconques qui félicite Miklan pour ses actions/rôles et d'autres personnes qui se lamentent sur ses choix passés, préférant mettre ses talents à l'usage de vendetta personnelle contre, euh, le monde? au lieu de faire quelque chose d'utile et de devenir chevalier ou seigneur de son frère - à la limite qu'il soit promu au rang de chef d'escouade si le premier meurt à cause d'une bête démoniaque - pour qu'il finisse comme il le fait dans le jeu, à tenter de défendre Arianrhod.

Peut-être avec une oraison de la part de Gilbert (certes c'est son grand frère qui a un emblème!) - rappelant que si la possession d'emblème est accordée par la Déesse, c'est à chacun que revient de faire le choix d'être une personne qui fait quelque chose de bien de sa vie, ou pas.

En gros, de faire en sorte que l'accent soit moins mis sur Miklan frère de Sylvain et ancien membre de la maison Gautier, mais plus sur Miklan, un quidam qui veut se racheter.

#lilias42 #je trouvais ce passage un peu moche #le 'sylvain a dit qu'il était ok' m'a complètement retournée #c'était moche comme pirouette #je me disais peut être faire l'escouade de quidams sur le modèle de la légion étrangère ou un truc du genre #on ne regarde pas votre passé mais vous faites ce qu'on vous dit et l'entraînement est draconien #avec le twist que tous les membre sont en réalité des personnes devant être exécutées #on ne mentionne pas le fait que les autres les ai pardonné parce que ce n'est pas le sujet #certes c'est un peu cruel allez à la guerre ou mourrez #mais s'ils devaient déjà être exécutés pour leurs crime de base je pense que ça passerait mieux dans cet univers #allez peut être que lors du tout dernier chapitre un quidam qui a survécu dit qu'il veut allez dans un village qu'il avait pillé auparavant #pour s'excuser #et on fini là dessus #ah je suis en train d'imaginer un truc con #soutien entre Jeritza et Miklan les deux criminels en recherche de rédemption #Jeritza qui se retient de le trucider sur place parce qu'on ne touche pas à la famille enfin ça dépend de laquelle #et miklan qui lui dit qu'il n'est pas meilleur qu'eux parce qu'il a fait des choses pires que lui en tant que bandit pendant qu'il était #général sous l'armée de dedel #3 nopes #french post

[aurevoirmonty]

"L'effondrement du leadership de l'Occident collectif s'accompagne et s'intensifie avec le rapide déclin moral de la culture occidentale. Les valeurs promues de force et avec obstination par l'Occident - LGBT, migration incontrôlée, légalisation de toutes sortes de perversions, culture de l'abolition (= cancel culture), purges brutales et répression de tous les dissidents, perte des principes humanistes et volonté d'évoluer vers la domination par l'intelligence artificielle et par le transhumanisme - ont encore réduit le prestige de l'Occident aux yeux de l'humanité mondiale. L'Occident n'est plus le modèle universel, l'autorité suprême ou le modèle à suivre."

Alexandre Douguine, Geopolitika.ru (2024)

[topaazu]

❀ Fleurs d'Hyrule ❀

fandom : BOTW 🌿

ship : ZeLink 💚💙

rating 👓 : G

tags 🏷️ : first love, first kiss, fluff without plot

summary 📖

Link, épéiste talentueux de dix-sept ans, n’a que trop conscience des responsabilités qui lui incombent. En tant que Héros, futur adversaire du Fléau Ganon, il se voue entièrement à ses missions martiales. Cependant, en compagnie de la Princesse Zelda, ce chevalier servant comprend que son cœur désespérément humain n’a que faire de ses objectifs. Et qu’il suffit parfois de quelques fleurs pour venir à bout des résolutions les plus sévères.

oneshot (1.5k words) ✏️

« Les fleurs d’Hyrule ne se contentent pas d’être belles. »

La voix mélodieuse de la Princesse renforçait la douceur de ses mots : s’y dévoilait l’amour sincère qu’elle portait à ces terres, ainsi qu’aux trésors qu’elles abritaient depuis leur création.

Hyrule était l’une de ces merveilles auxquelles on s’habituait malheureusement à force de les voir. Pourtant, parée de vastes étendues aux mille couleurs, elle rayonnait littéralement d’une magie bienveillante que les divinités lui accordaient sans réserve.

Link, récemment promu chevalier servant de l’héritière, avait bien vite oublié l’admiration qu’il vouait à son lieu de naissance – ce, dès l’enfance. À ses yeux, seul l’entraînement alors dispensé par son père comptait.

Son destin de Héros. Ses innombrables responsabilités et les attentes démesurées que l’on avait posées sur ses épaules sitôt ses compétences hors norme avérées.

Il en avait renoncé à la parole, gorge nouée par l’appréhension. Il craignait tant de nuire à sa réputation en exprimant sa maladresse intérieure, qu’il avait accepté comme une évidence de cadenasser ce qui s’agitait en lui. Car, après tout, le blondinet n’en restait pas moins un adolescent perdu de dix-sept ans…

Bien sûr, il était conscient que seule sa mission importait réellement. Rien n’aurait dû surpasser l’image victorieuse qu’on avait peinte à sa place, exposée au centre de ses pensées, de chacun de ses songes. Il le savait, on le lui avait assez répété.

Dès lors, que faire des sentiments malvenus qui écrouaient petit à petit son cœur? Il ne l’aurait admis pour rien au monde, mais il se doutait que la future couronnée auprès de laquelle il évoluait n’y était pas étrangère.

Ces dernières semaines n’avaient pas été faciles, certes. Elle lui avait maintes fois fait comprendre à quel point sa présence la gênait, lui jetant à chacune de leurs rencontres des regards incendiaires, assortis à des paroles blessantes. Leur communication avait mis du temps à trouver son équilibre, et Link ne pouvait que se réjouir de la relation apaisée dont ils profitaient désormais.

D’une part, le changement d’attitude de sa protégée à son égard allégeait considérablement ses tâches quotidiennes. Il n’était plus question de lui courir après à travers le royaume, d'ainsi pousser sa fidèle monture à en parcourir la moindre parcelle afin de la retrouver…

Rongée par la déception profonde qu’elle éprouvait envers elle-même, sans surprise.

Néanmoins, une autre facette de sa personnalité que le chevalier ignorait détenir lui soufflait que la commodité avec laquelle il exerçait à présent était loin d’être la seule raison de son bonheur.

Non, il refusait de se l’avouer – même dans le secret de ses réflexions muettes.

Devant lui, Zelda babillait sans interruption tout en usant abondamment de l’appareil photo que renfermait sa tablette sheikah. Les clics à peine audibles résonnaient pourtant en Link avec force, tentant vainement de l’ancrer dans le moment présent. C’était à croire que la Déesse Hylia le forçait à ouvrir les yeux, à profiter de ces instants précieux, si rares, où la belle chercheuse s’autorisait à sourire.

Brusquement, le flot de son bavardage se tarit, suspendu par une découverte que l’épéiste s’empressa de contempler à son tour.

« Celle-ci… C’est une Princesse de la Sérénité. »

Plus bas, se balançant tranquillement sous la brise printanière, une fleur magnifique teintée d’un blanc pur et d’un bleu aussi vif que celui du ciel, tendait ses gracieux pétales vers les nuages légers. Ses feuilles, d’une égale délicatesse, préservaient sa beauté d’éventuels importuns venus du sol.

Afin de mieux la voir, les deux Hyliens se mirent à genoux dans les herbes hautes.

« Son espèce est menacée, malheureusement. Depuis quelque temps, nous les cultivons intensivement pour tenter de les sauver, mais… Leur nombre ne semble pas augmenter. »

Link osa se rapprocher un peu plus, quittant sa position de garde pour adopter celle de… camarade d’observation? Il n’avait aucune intention particulière, il souhaitait simplement écouter…

Était-ce la seule vision de ce végétal qui suscitait une nouvelle forme d’audace? Malgré ses réticences, qui s’éveillaient presque par automatisme, il se sentait comme… guidé. Vers elle.

Vers Zelda.

« Après tout, la Princesse est peut-être vouée à disparaître… »

La mélancolie reprenait sa place sur ses traits. Ses iris vert malachite se voilèrent tandis qu’elle les levait vers ceux, céruléens, de son compagnon. Ses lèvres pleines tremblèrent confusément, retenant la détresse qu’elle avait tant besoin d’exprimer.

Aussi, soucieux de préserver sa bonne humeur jusqu’alors solaire, Link esquissa un sourire. Si discret, si rapide, qu’il crut une seconde que la destinataire n’ait eu le temps de l’apercevoir. Heureusement, elle le lui rendit sans attendre, flattée par l’effort fourni – juste pour elle.

Aucun autre mot ne s’échappa. Au contraire, Zelda autorisa un silence agréable à les border, à peine troublé par les bruits de la faune et de la flore alentour. Les paumes sagement posées sur ses cuisses, elle se contenta de détailler le visage d’habitude impassible du blondinet.

Celui-ci entendit son palpitant s’emballer. Il déglutit avec difficulté, cruellement conscient de la couleur rosée qui s’épanouissait sur ses pommettes. L’Épée de Légende dans son dos parut soudain peser des tonnes. Son corps protestait contre la tornade qui tordait ses côtes et compressait ses poumons…

Était-il autorisé à ressentir de telles choses? À espérer qu’elles persistent un peu plus, juste pour profiter encore des traits de sa protégée?

Il ne voulait pas qu’elle disparaisse. Elle aurait beau prétendre qu’elle ne parlait que de l’espèce florale bicolore, elle ne pouvait tromper l’esprit de déduction de Link. Ses soi-disant échecs quant à l’éveil du Pouvoir du Sceau ne valaient rien face aux avancées titanesques qu’elle avait rendues possibles. Elle était autant précieuse pour son peuple qu’elle l’était pour…

Lui.

Il n’avait pas le droit de formuler un tel constat, surtout pas dans le refuge sacré de ses pensées! Il était le Héros, le maître de la Lame Purificatrice – celui qui combattrait le Fléau Ganon une fois le travail des autres Prodiges accompli…

Mais là, sous l’astre du jour qui les baignait de ses rayons, au sein d’une nature à la fois splendide et sauvage, une étincelle les traversa tous deux. Link, du haut de ses dix-sept ans, n’avait jamais eu d’amoureuse… ou d’amoureux. Il ignorait tout de ces émotions-là, des fameux papillons qu’on décrivait sans cesse.

Ce qui faisait battre son cœur était-il comparable à la passion que vouait Daruk à la nourriture du Village Goron? Son ami aurait peut-être été en mesure de l’aiguiller à ce sujet…

Il était seul face à elle, cependant. Il ne pouvait compter que sur lui-même et ses maigres connaissances en matière de sentiments.

« Tu sembles ailleurs. » constata alors Zelda en penchant la tête, intriguée.

Il retint sa respiration.

« Peut-être puis-je t’aider? »

Il expira, épuisé par la torture mentale qu’il s’infligeait. Ses responsabilités devenaient de plus en plus complexes à maintenir au premier plan de ses préoccupations…

« C’est laborieux de deviner ce à quoi tu penses, parfois. » reprit la jeune femme en passant une main incertaine dans sa longue crinière dorée. « J’aimerais tellement… »

Elle s’arrêta, ses propres joues habillées de rose.

« Tu sais, Link… Je… »

Dès que son prénom franchit la barrière de sa bouche, le concerné frissonna.

« Je t’apprécie beaucoup. Et je te suis sincèrement reconnaissante de ne pas m’avoir tenu rigueur de mon comportement déplorable. »

Il ne lui en avait pas voulu. Pas vraiment.

« J’aime passer du temps en ta compagnie. Ce n’est pas sérieux, je le sais, mais les après-midis que nous nous octroyons, tels que celui-ci, me font très plaisir. »

Elle avança timidement sa main droite. C’était un appel, un essai. Un aveu muet de son désir de se rapprocher de lui – peut-être plus que ce qui leur était permis.

« Merci d’être là. »

Link se jeta à l’eau, ignorant volontairement l’alarme qui lui vrillait le crâne : il s’empara des doigts offerts, son sang pulsant bien trop fort dans ses tempes. Il y entremêla les siens en tremblant.

Le pouls de l’héritière s’accorda au sien – il le sentit en caressant son poignet. Il regarda le sol, honteux.

C’était plus puissant que lui, que sa raison et son vécu.

Il tombait amoureux. Un peu plus à chaque seconde qu’il passait en sa compagnie.

« Link… » murmura-t-elle.

Il l’observa à nouveau.

« Ne meurs pas. Je t’en supplie. »

Il réfuta d’emblée en secouant la tête.

« J’ai besoin de toi. Ne me quitte pas, surtout pas. »

Leurs visages se rapprochèrent, lentement d’abord. Leurs cœurs faillirent s’échapper quand leurs lèvres s’entrouvrirent, prêtes à enfin se trouver au-delà de banals échanges verbaux. Leur mission disparut de leurs esprits à l’instant où elles se réunirent, concrétisant ainsi, et sans le savoir, la volonté tacite d’Hylia.

Leur premier baiser fut doux, chaleureux… hésitant. Mais il était tellement, tellement sincère, que les végétaux veillant sur eux parurent devenir plus ravissants encore. C’était le décor d’un conte de fées, de ceux que la mère de Zelda racontait à sa petite dame de son vivant.

La respiration de Link était si irrégulière que seule sa Princesse l’entendit lorsqu’il prononça les trois mots qu’elle espérait tant.

Ce jour-là, les fleurs d’Hyrule ne s’étaient assurément pas contentées d’être belles.

Elles étaient devenues les chevalières préservant un amour naissant, aussi curieux qu’évident.

#breath of the wild #botw #zelink #fanfiction #french fanfiction