#gabriel berthelot

[liodain]

Gab and Hugo indulging in some Xeheia's fold culture for @ockissweek

#the forsaken and the forsworn #gabriel berthelot #hugo melançon #hubriel #shotgunning the smokeleaf again #something im very normal about #my art #pirates #ockiss24 #deep queue sea

[aliatori]

Thread the Needle

The Forsaken and the Forsworn | Post-Fate | Gabriel Berthelot/Jihane N'Ait | 10.5k words | Explicit

Tevnit alerts Jihane to a new presence in the pavilion. She tenses, her claws digging into the white leather padding of the perch she’s made of Jihane’s shoulder. Her narrow reptilian head darts toward the western entrance; the sunset unfolding above the tiled arch sets her fire opal scales ablaze. To mollify her while she sorts out her unexpected visitor, Jihane lifts another bloody rodent morsel to her jaws as an offering.

“Scion-Captain Berthelot, Mistress N’Ait.” Sidqi vanishes as soon as the announcement is made.

Not so unexpected, then. Jihane knew it was only a matter of time before Gabriel sought her out again. It’s why she left standing orders with her household to allow him entry.

Between her and Sea-Trader Melançon, they’ve impressed upon Gabriel the necessity of covering the Watcher’s mark in certain spaces; nudity full or partial is no cause for remark in the Enclave, but bearing another deity’s favor so openly in Rhohnas’ lands, even that of a potential Exiled ally, creates more problems than Jihane cares to solve. More a surprise than the Scion-Captain’s presence is that he appears to have heeded their concerns, particularly after the nonsense with the flagrant cup sharing between him and the Sea-Trader at the recent banquet.

He cuts a striking figure in the sunrobe Jihane gifted him. Instead of selecting a bright Trinoran hue, she made her one concession to the Watcher and her chosen with the colour palette: a dark blue-grey like a brewing storm, with elaborate white embroidery at the edges of the short sleeves and decorating the hem. Circular swirls reminiscent of waves decorate both sides of the low, open vee neckline; the swell of bare, hair-dusted chest confirms Gabriel hasn’t deigned to wear anything beneath it. Continuing her downward sweep, Jihane smiles to see the midnight blue leather sandals she sent with the sunrobe on his feet, straps crossed across the tops of them and continuing halfway up his sturdy calves. A shame he’ll have to remove them for ablutions if she chooses to take this reunion indoors.

A heady thrill quakes through her at the sight. The Scion-Captain’s obedience bodes well for Jihane’s plans both personal and political. Were she a less patient woman, she’d be tempted to take him here and now.

When she lifts her gaze from Gabriel’s feet to his eyes, his arrogant grin reminds her of the challenges ahead.

“Don’t get any wild notions about all this politicking just ‘cause of an outfit.” He sweeps ringed fingers down his body in an invitation Jihane graciously accepts. “I reckon it’s only smart not to make waves… at least when I ain’t in control of them.”

Jihane decides this doesn’t merit a response. It would only be giving him the attention he craves. Instead, she turns to Tevnit, irritation writ plain in her glittering topaz eyes. Jihane retrieves another sliver of raw flesh from the lined pouch at her waist and tosses it to Tevnit, who snaps her maw shut around it with a loud clack.

Now just outside of arm’s reach, Gabriel stops, expression shrewd as he takes in Tevnit’s presence. At least he has a sense of danger.

“What is that? Some kind of pet?”

“To call Tevnit ‘pet’ is an insult. She’s a companion, of sorts. That’s the closest Achaizarian word that translates.” The companion in question stares down Gabriel, stone-still, the prelude to deciding he’s a threat. She holds up her free hand and splays the blood-stained fingers wide in a silent command to stop. “Don’t come any closer.”

The twist of Gabriel’s lips and scrunch of his bold nose signal his displeasure. She half expects him to take a step closer to spite her, and as far as Jihane’s concerned, he’d deserve the flame or claw he’d get for his trouble. But stop he does, which sets different gears turning in Jihane’s thoughts, ones wondering what other commands Xeheia’s envoy would obey.

“She gonna take my eye out if I do?”

“If I don’t beat her to it.” More tease than threat, even if Jihane’s capable when pressed.

Still, Gabriel laughs, rich and deep. “Been told I’m altogether too whole to have been a pirate this long. It would figure a—whatever she is—would take my eye out before some navy dog or piss-drunk merchant.”

“The Empire calls them dragons, like the creatures from their myths. They’re ignorant, but they’re not entirely wrong in this case. They’re flying, scaled, sun-blooded creatures, some of whom can command flame when mature, as befitting children of Rhohnas.” Jihane strokes the pale orange webbing of Tevnit’s folded wing with a gentle finger and earns a pleased trill in response, though her attention remains on Gabriel. That makes both of them, unfortunately.

“So like shadowkraken are to Xeheia. Just.” Gabriel pauses, eyeing Tevnit with curiosity and respect that seems genuine. “Smaller.”

“Exactly, Scion-Captain.” In her pleasure, Jihane rewards Gabriel with a toothy smile. The twist of hunger in his features as he beholds her fangs rewards her in turn. “Though of course, I’ve only heard of shadowkraken second-hand, and little at that. The waters of the Umbra are far from Enclave shores.”

“Most people who see ‘em don’t live to talk about it, and those that do, well…” Gabriel tosses his head, the end of his sleek braid brushing an exposed sliver of collarbone, then laughs. “Let’s just say we’re still tight-lipped about some things. Can’t go giving all our secrets away, no matter how keen the old girl is on cozying up to the rest of the Exiled.”

“Confirmation that shadowkraken are sacred to Xeheia is more than I knew one turn ago,” Jihane says. “How would you feel about a trade?”

Gabriel shifts his weight to one leg, arms folded across his broad, generous chest. She tries not to focus on his dayrobe riding up to mid-thigh with the motion. The smug grin returns with a heated slant, one that evokes a flutter between her legs and a roar to rival Tevnit’s in her pulse.

“You and trades. This gonna be like the last trade? ‘Cause that one worked out for both of us.”

“So you presume.”

“Didn’t hear any complaints, though that could’ve been because your thighs were clamped ‘round my ears.”

So presumptive. But Jihane enjoys taming dangerous creatures, bringing them to heel. Tevnit’s solid weight on her shoulder attests to that.

She unties the pouch at her waist and tosses it across the tiled ground of the pavilion to him. He catches it, clenching it tight in his fist, that intriguing curiosity back on his face. Without waiting for permission—to Jihane’s irritation—he opens the bag, his studded eyebrows lifting.

“Not that it’s the first time I’ve been in this position, but any particulars as to why you threw a sack of offal at me?” Jihane draws back to look at Tevnit, who trains her gaze on the bag the Scion-Captain holds. Her vertical pupils have widened with interest, though her scales are lifted from her skin, a literal bristle of agitation. With a looping snatch of song, Jihane commands her to stay put, just in case she harbours any idea of flying to snatch the bag from Gabriel’s unsuspecting grasp. Ever the opportunistic girl.

“A gift. The first step in establishing trust with sunwyrms is to hand-feed them. It’s what all of Tevnit’s stewards have done to mind her in my absence when she chooses to visit. Often, devotees of Rhohnas seek out a sunwyrm to perform this with as a ritual in the wild. It’s seen as courting Rhohnas’ favour.”

“And what makes you think I need to court Rhohnas’ favour?” Gabriel touches his fingertips to the bird skull dangling from his relic. No surprise he refuses to conceal that; Sea-Trader Melançon made a wine-induced admission that it once belonged to him. “I got more than enough favour to last this lifetime, through all seven hells, and right to the next realm.” “Is that not the entire point of your diplomatic visit? To gain Rhohnas’ favour and bring that promise back to the Watcher?” Jihane holds up a single finger and forestalls the reply Gabriel opens his mouth to give. “If nothing else, I know you’re courting my favour, your creative subversions of my advice aside. I’m curious to see what judgment Tevnit—and thereby, Rhohnas—makes of you.”

A pretty flush spreads up the tanned skin of Gabriel’s chest, making it all the way to his cheeks. Good. Jihane enjoys it when a well-placed shot strikes true, even more so when it has the Scion of a deity shuffling his feet.

The moment passes quickly, and the bluster she’s quickly beginning to associate with Xeheia’s chosen devotee rises like a storm wind. “Fine. What do I have to do?”

“Take one of the slices from the feed bag and place it upon your fingers, then slowly approach Tevnit with your palm extended. Emphasis on slowly. My beloved girl, like me, doesn’t enjoy surprises.”

“And then?”

“She’ll either eat it from your palm, which means she’s accepted you as worthy, or she’ll bite off a finger or two. But not to worry—Enclave chirurgeons are without peer. You’d likely not lose them permanently.”

She watches the emotions spin on Gabriel’s face like bits of stained glass in the toy tubes they make for children, rapid and plain to see. He studies Tevnit for a long moment then gives a decisive nod.

“Alright. I’ll do it.” No hesitation.

Jihane steadies her breathing. The anticipation sets her limbs shaking. In the interest of a fair judgment, she stills her body. The way Gabriel throws himself headlong into danger to prove himself to her, to her deity? It stokes the embers of her desire into a roaring flame.

But there’s a test to be passed, first.

Gabriel, raw meat in his palm, approaches with slow, confident steps, the leather of his gifted sandals whispering against the coloured spray of tile beneath them. Wind rustles through the fronds lining the square, cutting through the stifling heat like a cool knife. He walks like a man used to peril – not flinging himself headlong, but not holding back.

Tevnit stirs as he gets closer, scales lifting further from her skin and making her seem twice again her size. Her long neck stretches to look down at Gabriel from her perch. A gurgle emanates from Tevnit’s throat along with the smell of sulfur. Not the worst reaction, but still in precarious territory.

“Careful,” Jihane says sternly, only realizing after that she’s spoken in Trinoran.

The lightning-glow of Gabriel’s gaze meets hers without a shred of fear. He returns his attention to Tevnit, palm held out, emperor and supplicant in the same moment. Wisely, he pauses until Tevnit stops her warning rumble, then carves out the last steps to get within arm’s reach with measured deliberation, bearded chin tilted in an approximation of deference.

The tension could snap bones. Jihane registers each shift of Tevnit’s weight on her shoulder, reminding herself to keep breathing. She watches Gabriel with a threefold hunger – for the man, the sacred, and the thrill. His palm doesn’t so much as quiver as he waits for Tevnit’s choice, and in that moment, she feels righteousness about her decision to seek his aid.

She only hopes Tevnit—who speaks for Rhohnas—feels the same.

All at once, Tevnit’s sleek head swoops down, dropping Jihane’s stomach to her feet along with it, a shimmering red-orange blur. But Jihane has never looked away from difficult moments and she does not look away now. Because she doesn’t, she’s treated to a marvellous sight: Gabriel’s hand remains unmaimed. Tevnit tosses the meat back in her gullet, scales smooth and flat, then lifts her head and trumpets her pleasure. There’s a sensation like someone pressing Jihane towards the ground, then airy lightness as Tevnit takes off into the fading blue of the sunset sky, flying true as an arrow to the opening of the courtyard, where she will roam the islands to her heart’s content until she comes back to Jihane.

“So did I pass,” he says, voice thick and hot, not bothering to make it a question.

Jihane closes the gap between them and takes the bag of feed from his grasp, dropping it on the ground. She replaces it with her hands, gripping his forearms and trailing her fingers up them, avoiding the lines of sacred ink. To be the first to reach for him in greeting breaks protocol. Then again, so is the slow squeeze she gives his forearms and the soft stroke of her fingertips along his skin. It borders on scandalous.

A perilous combination of rapture, lust, and yearning fills her, scorching like a desert sun. She struggles to subdue it; the casual stroke of Gabriel’s calloused thumbs along the Maw scars covering her arms doesn’t help.

He’s proving dangerous in more ways than one.Time to start balancing the scales.

“Join me for an evening meal.”

It’s not a question.

-----

Gotta hand it to the Enclave, and to Jihane in particular—Gabriel’s eaten better these past two spans than he’s eaten in a Rising. At least when he’s at the Eye, what with supplies still coming in at a trickle compared to the old days of a full fleet. Feels like no sooner than she snapped her fingers and doled out orders to her staff than a pile of vittles appeared before them.

Not that he’s of much of a mind to eye the contents.

Contrary to Luc’s ribbing back dockside at the Squall, Gabriel knows he’s thinking with his dick instead of diplomacy. At least somewhat. Thing is? He doesn’t care.

On the opposite side of the square table, Jihane dips her clawed fingers into a fancy white bowl with six-sided red figures on the outside, matching red petals floating on the surface of what Gabriel assumes to be water. A floral fragrance wafts towards him as she shakes off the perfumed excess, then neatly wipes her hands on a vibrant green cloth beside the tray. He likes the meticulousness of her. He likes it more when he gets the chance to muss it up, which he can admit he’s angling for tonight.

When she glances up at him through her long, dark eyelashes, there’s no mistaking the look in her rose-coloured eyes for anything but flirtation, and—yeah. It’s enough to get his dick twitching between his legs. Can’t decide yet what kind of omen that is. There’s some kind of game ahead. How much he can sway it remains to be seen.

“Not hungry, Scion-Captain?” Jihane asks.

Gabriel doesn’t answer, giving her a slow once-over instead. She’s dressed in all white today, a white so brilliant as to be dazzling, like the way high sun on a clear day can turn the seas beneath his ship into a gleaming expanse of fire. Unlike the short sleeves of his robe, her pleated, dressier affair is missing the sleeves… and most of the chest. He doesn’t bother to hide his leer as he admires the pillowy swell of her breasts spilling over the tops of the cups meant to hold them, twitches again thinking of burying his face in the expanse of smooth brown skin. The clear beads Gabriel’s learned denote her status sparkle where they’re woven into her long box braids, which she has pulled into a half-crown atop her head. One bare foot peeks out from where Jihane has her legs tucked beneath her. The gold lacquer on her toes matches the shade of her claws.

“Not for anything on the table right now,” he answers.

“How unfortunate for you.” Her dazzling smile does fuck all to hide the new huskiness of her voice. “My suggestion? Find a different appetite to whet. Surely you wouldn’t be so rude as to let all this go to waste.”

“Sure don’t sound like a suggestion.”

“It isn’t.”

Gabriel’s stomach, traitor that it is, betrays him with a rumble. It’s almost, almost worth it for Jihane’s laugh afterward, full lips curved in a gorgeous smile.

“I won’t have it said that I mistreat my guests. Even guests who show up with such an… interesting interpretation of how to wear a dayrobe.”

Sparrow’d made that much apparent in a catty snipe upon Gabriel’s departure, that Jihane’s gift was meant to be worn on top of different clothes, but so far, he hasn’t seen any downsides. He spots a stack of lightly charred flatbread and sets to digging in, spreading a paste made of salty Trinoran fruit with the miniature blunt knife on the tray beside it. It’s warm, delicious, and has his mouth watering even more than it already was.

Jihane doesn’t touch any of the stuff yet, which. Weird. But Gabriel likes the weight of her attention, the satisfaction in the square set of her shoulders as he starts in on a second flatbread.

“What sorts of delicacies do you enjoy at the Storm’s Eye?” Jihane asks, clawed fingers curled in a fist beneath her chin.

He swallows his current bite and then snorts. “Hmmm. Nothin’ you’d call a delicacy by your lofty standards.”

“I’ll weigh the scales on that. Answer the question.”

Her tone brooks no argument, so Gabriel begins to reply… then stops, a realization heating the back of his neck. She’s bossing him around. All but dressing him, her ‘companion’, the food, now this. And here he is, going along with it like he’s not the mortal voice of Xeheia on this plane.

“I did, didn’t I? Ain’t my fault if you don’t like the answer.”

The air between them frosts despite a fierce humidity clinging to the dusk, one which beads sweat under Gabriel’s arms and along his back. Jihane diverts her attention to the jewelry on her fingertips as though it’s the most interesting bauble in her opulent pavilion, turning them this way and that. It’s like he doesn’t even exist.

Fine. Two can play that game.

Being pissed doesn’t change the fact he’s hungry, so he keeps on eating: crispy fried balls of dough laced with seasonings, crunchy purple vegetables cut into thin strips, a savoury beige paste spread on more flatbread. Jihane finally picks out a few items for herself – the fried dough, and a few of the black and green salty fruits but whole. Between each bite she dips her hands in the cleaning water and wipes them on the cloth after. There’s a matching bowl beside Gabriel too, but he chooses to ignore it as thoroughly as Jihane ignores him.

A familiar struggle burns and tugs its way through Gabriel’s chest. Anger, yeah, and embarrassment. But it’s the kind of embarrassment that quickens his pulse as much as it heats his skin, the prelude to a fight he gets hard thinking about throwing. When he and Jihane fucked before, it was the usual sort, give or take the burns and bloodshed. Now? He’s not so sure.

Most of his experience in these games has been with Hugo, who’s always more interested in having an excuse to wreck Gabriel with his godsdamned sadistic tortures than being obeyed to the letter. Jihane, though? Disobedience is like dunking a torch in the ocean for all the good it does.

He blows air through his nose, scratches at the fresh growth of beard along his neck, then finally says, “Fish.”

Jihane turns from her throne of pillows and cushions to look at him. It’s just a look, but it’s a look. She tilts her head and raises her eyebrows ever so slightly.

“Lots and lots of fish. Fresh, fire-roasted, pickled, raw, you name it—it’s probably at the Eye. Seaweed, too. Grew it ourselves back in the Umbra and it transferred easy enough. And goats, sometimes. The tough little bastards used to be all over. We took as many of them with us as we could when we had to move.” When he sank the island at Xeheia’s behest, half mad with grief and to be sure nothing was left of the Carnage, but he ain’t getting into that story right now. "And they’re doing fine, but not enough to start slaughterin’ the seven hells out of them yet.”

The more Gabriel speaks, the more Jihane shows interest, until she’s leaning toward him across the table, a delighted smile making apples of her cheeks.

She places her hand over Gabriel’s on the table. The points of her claws kiss the pronounced veins along the back of it. “Thank you. Since I’m hopeful we’ll be allies for the foreseeable future, I want to understand you and your people, even the mundane details. As much as you’re able to divulge, of course. I understand needing to keep the mysteries sacred.” Jihane winks before releasing Gabriel’s hand, and fuck if he’s not dripping—literally—with the satisfaction of giving her what she wants.

Godsdamned inconvenient, his dick.

“What about you? There’s gotta be something you can only find here. Something special to the Enclave. Only fair for me to know.”

Jihane’s smile takes on a new brilliance, sun-bright. “I’m so glad you asked. A fresh harvest from the orchards on the far isles just arrived and brought my favourite Enclave fruit with it.” She plucks a pale blue sphere as big as Gabriel’s fist from the table, then changes her mind and rolls it to him instead.

He stops it with his palm and picks it up. It’s surprisingly heavy in his grip, and if he had smaller hands, it wouldn’t even fit in one. Gabriel gives it an experimental squeeze and finds the husk on the outside firm yet not without give. Dipping his head, he sniffs at it, but whether it’s the savoury smoke coming from the kitchens of Jihane’s estate or a lack in the fruit itself, he can’t smell anything in particular.

“Go ahead. Open it,” Jihane says. She sits up straighter on her side of the table.

Gabriel casts about for some tool or utensil and, finding nothing obvious, opts for the direct route. He tenses his biceps and bears down with his fingers, a claw-like grip on either side, pushing in and pulling apart at the same time. It resists…

Until it doesn’t.

The tension vanishes and the fruit pops apart with a wet, papery crack… and a puff of what sure as all hells looks like steam. Dark orange juice sprays across the lacquered, pale wood of the table and Gabriel’s robe, though it misses Jihane’s pristine ensemble. Glistening flesh the colour of lava fills the inside, a paler yellow membrane clinging to what looks like clusters of tiny pearls on the inside. And he wasn’t imagining things with the steam. Wisps of it drift up from the fruit, which has an intense, sweet, spiced smell now that it’s open. A brush of Gabriel’s fingers confirms the insides are warm as blood. He presses down with the pads of his thumbs and draws out more juice, thin rivulets snaking down his forearms, the liquid hot enough to raise the hair on his arms.

When he finally looks at Jihane, she’s examining her dress-like getup with irritation, though it fades as she finishes her examination. She lifts her face to lock eyes with Gabriel. Black swallows the rose gold of her irises, leaving only a thin pink ring behind.

“What is it that I’m holdin’, exactly?”

“Kliaquat. It’s a fruit that only grows here in the Enclave’s archipelago. In addition to being delicious and expensive, it’s considered sacred to Rhohnas. A testament to his duality.” After a pause, Jihane sweeps a clawed hand at him, twirling it at the wrist in a gesture even Gabriel can interpret as ‘get on with it’. “Go ahead. Enjoy.”

He studies the kliaquat in his hand. It occurs to him it could be poisonous to eat, like spinefish or bubblefish. But his gut says Jihane ain’t looking to do him in just yet. Not without her contract being signed and fulfilled, at least; Gabriel’s got a keen sense for the murderous, and while he’s sure as the Depths are dark Jihane’s gotten her hands dirty, he doesn’t think he’s a target yet.

May as well enjoy himself in the meantime.

Experimental prods confirm the juice comes from the pearls inside bursting. This is clearly a two-hand job, so Gabriel abandons half of the fruit on the table to use both. He plucks out one or two pearls afterward, squishing them between his fingers. There’s a strange satisfaction in each tepid pop. He’s sure he’s not meant to eat the outside, and having torn it in half means there’s no easy way to take a whole bite of it. That leaves scooping out the insides with his fingers.

It’s harder than it looks; most pearls dislodge easily from the faded yellow netting that holds them, but they’re crushed in the process. There’s a hard bit in the middle of each pearl. Seeds, most like. Probably edible. Only one sure way to find out. Gabriel aligns three fingers along the torn edge of the kliaquat, presses down, and digs in, aiming to shovel out a handful of the seeds without damaging too many. Iridescent orange-red juice flows down his forearms, mingling with the black gyre of tentacle exposed by his Enclave-approved robe. The spiced scent is cloying in its sweetness yet still mouth-watering; he’s never met a sweet he’s said no to. Or a spice, for that matter. And the steaming flesh of the fruit…

“Kinda like being three knuckles deep in guts. Either kind,” he observes aloud.

Jihane makes a noise Gabriel would bet his considerable purse was borne of shock, but she covers it with a pretty cough. There’s a predator’s sharpness in her demeanor when Gabriel glances her way, not unlike her little sunwyrm companion from earlier. He starts to regret—but only just, and only a part—opening the door for her budding depraved urges.

“An interesting description.” There’s a solid pause, and then Jihane asks, “Something you have a lot of experience in, I understand.”

Gabriel grins. “Don’t tell me you’re squeamish, now, or that your Sea-Trader has convinced you we all make nice and polite robbing each other on the Fourfold. The fold’s more, huh… discerning about the kinds of violence we visit these days, but some things can only end in blood.”

“Oh, don’t mistake me, Gabriel.” Huskiness returns to Jihane’s voice. “I’m… intrigued. But right now, what I want is for you to eat. So eat.”

Gabriel wrestles down his initial spiteful urge to refuse. Might have been a time he told himself he does it because he’s still hungry, because the fruit looks delicious, but he’s older and wiser—or at least less inclined to indulge his own bullshit. But the plain fact is he likes Jihane’s attention, likes basking in her pleasure when he does as she says. Besides which, he ought to save the fighting and backtalk for the fights that matter, and he’s sure there’ll be plenty as they work out this so-called political and divine alliance.

He raises his cupped palm and parts his lips, drawing the modest handful of pearls into his mouth. Gabriel rolls them around his tongue, though there are only the vaguest hints of tart sweetness so far. Pressing them against the roof of his mouth and cheeks isn’t enough to burst them, so he opts to start chewing.

Flavour erupts along his tongue, the juice as tart and spiced as mulled wine, but with a cascade of new tastes he has no words to describe. They’re sweet, too, and as suspected yield a fibrous crunch when Gabriel gets to the center of the pearls. It should be off-putting, the fruit being a shade away from hot, but when he swallows it kindles a pleasant warmth all the way to his stomach. Almost as good as belting back a slug of fine liquor.

As soon as he finishes the first handful, he digs for more. Faster this time, more careless, to the point where juice trickles over his lips and through his beard, his hands sticky and stained the colour of rust where some of it has dried. Gabriel doesn’t even mind the bitter bits of membrane stuck in the seeds from his haste. By his third and last handful, he lets out a loud, throaty groan before he even chews the pearls. It has an addictive quality; the intensity of the flavour should leave him sated, but with only the hollowed husk and the tattered remains of the webbing left in this half of kliaquat, Gabriel only thinks about the second half.

At least until he lifts his eyes and catches sight of Jihane.

There’s hunger written plain as the stars on her face, though Gabriel knows without a doubt it’s him she’s hungry for, not the fruit, no matter how good it is. Her breasts heave up and down with each deep breath she takes. Haze fogs her eyes when she manages to lock gazes with Gabriel, though it clears in a few deliberate blinks.

“I take it you enjoy the kliaquat.”

Instead of answering right away, Gabriel takes the time to lick each of the fingers on his right hand clean, drawing them into his mouth one by one, releasing them each time with an audible pop.

“Yeah,” he finally answers, “I reckon I did.”

Jihane shifts, an elbow digging into a brilliant turquoise cushion to prop her up. “Then you won’t mind sharing with me.”

“’Course not,” Gabriel says, picking up the other half from the table and extending it to her. He frowns at the smoky plumes of Jihane’s laughter.

“Not like that. You’ll feed it to me. And properly, without mess.”

Gabriel’s frown deepens. A familiar heat prickles along the back of his neck, the equally addictive combination of anger and imminent humiliation. “I ain’t one of your servants to be ordered about, set to wash your feet and fan you with leaves and hand feed you.”

Jihane shrugs a silken, coppery shoulder, the picture of indifference. “If you consider it beneath you, then you can also consider yourself dismissed. I’m a busy woman and won’t waste time arguing with you.”

There’s a moment where it feels like Gabriel’s head has been dunked in a raging river, the roar of his blood like the rush of water filling his ears. It floods his chest, neck, and cheeks. A part of him is pissed as all seven hells.

The other part knows he’s fucked six ways to the Watcher.

“Least tell me what you mean by proper,” Gabriel mutters.

Jihane thaws again, all satisfaction. “Come over here and I will.” She then crooks a clawed finger to beckon Gabriel to her side of the table.

Is this what it’s like to deal with his mercurial moods? The winds of her temper shift nearly as quick as his own. Godsdamn.

He stands, cursing under his breath as his thighs slip against one another, making him realize just how wet he is. Whatever. He knew what he was getting into when he decided to come calling at Jihane’s palatial doorstep. Mostly.

“Kneel here beside me, then I’ll show you how to eat it correctly.”

He bares his teeth in a grimace. The way she orders him about, it’s like she’s forgetting who, what he is. He bites his tongue—literally—against telling her where to shove her imperious commands. Then, a tide of lustful shame rising in him like the dark waters of Xeheia’s holy sea, he lowers himself to one knee, then the other, taking a seat on the backs of his heels. The leather of the sandals digs into his ass, his thin robe not doing much to help blunt the pressure.

“Good.” Jihane all but purrs the word, and Gabriel loves and hates how he can feel himself swell at the praise. Worse still is the traitorous twitch of his cock when she pats his bearded cheek, the tips of her claws clicking against the rings in his ears. “Very good.”

“Just…” Gabriel huffs out an impatient breath, trying hard not to lean into her touch and debase himself more than he has already. “Just get on with it.”

“This is a task that requires patience. Best if you start summoning it now,” she says, a mix of derision and delight in her tone.

Turning from him, Jihane reaches her wide, plush arms across the table to place the remaining kliaquat half on a tray Gabriel didn’t see before. It’s ostentatiously decorated like everything in the Enclave, the base polished ivory and the handles a metallic rose gold. The utensils on it are ivory accented in yellow gold and most make sense: a bowl with high sides studded with pink gems that holds the other half of the fruit, a tiny spoon with scalloped edges, and a steel knife with a carved handle that matches the tray.

The purpose of a rectangular dish lined with several golden needles eludes Gabriel. They’re more delicate pieces than he’s used to, whether from his years of sewing or the fold’s flesh-piercers or Aurele and xyr unflinching sutures.

“The most traditional way to properly eat a kliaquat is threading the seeds on a needle and eating them one or two at a time,” Jihane explains, tapping the needles with her claws. “It’s a delicate process. Use the wrong amount of pressure or pierce it in the wrong spot and the seed bursts. If you don’t use enough force, the seed slips away from the needle and escapes you entirely.”

Gabriel’s frustration mounts just listening to the explanation, let alone trying it. “Lemme guess. That’s the way you want me to feed it to you.”

“It is. And unlike you,”—her eyes sweep down, taking in the erratic pattern of dark stains on Gabriel’s robe—“I expect my clothing to remain spotless.”

There’s a definite ‘or else’ she doesn’t say aloud, so Gabriel asks, “Or else what?”

“If you’re lucky, you won’t find out. I can assure you, the consequences will be nothing you enjoy, so if you were thinking I’d inflict you with pain as punishment, think again.”

A low laugh escapes Gabriel. “Figured me out that quick, huh?” “Watching you writhe as I sank my foreteeth into your chest, as I touched you with Rhohnas’ flame… It would have given away to the most oblivious person, and I’m far from oblivious, Scion-Captain.” She studies him, an excited light shimmering in her eyes. “Are you up to the task?”

He scoffs, then swivels at the hips to pick up the bowl holding the fruit and a needle to match. “I ain’t about to let some fruit and a needle best me after all the shit I’ve done.”

“Let’s hope your skill matches your confidence.” Jihane glances at the tray Gabriel left on the table. “Most beginners—children, usually—make use of the tray at first. It saves some face when a seed inevitably gets away from them.”

“It’s like I said. I don’t need help. You’ll get your fruit without the mess you hate so much.”

Jihane smiles like a trap being sprung. “Then get to it, Gabriel.”

The bowl fits neatly in his hand, its weight solid with the kliaquat resting in it. The needle’s not a dainty piece of shit, but it still feels irritatingly thin and small in his grip for the task at hand. He hasn’t spent most of his life making his clothes and carving scrimshaw and wood for his dexterity to be bested by one godsdamned piece of fruit.

The first pearl he tries to thread on the needle bursts, leaving nothing but wilted topaz flesh clinging to the seed inside. There’s so much juice inside such a tiny pearl; dots of it fleck Gabriel’s freckled forearm and the back of his opposite hand, but thankfully, he’s far enough away from Jihane that it misses her clothing.

“You could still use the tray,” Jihane says.

“Yeah, well, in case you ain’t already noticed, I’m a stubborn asshole. I don’t need it.”

Gabriel slows down, nudging a pearl with the sharp tip of the needle. He doesn’t want it flying every which way and landing on Jihane. Embarrassing, to end the game so soon. He angles the needle downward, about where he judges the midpoint between the edge of the pearl and the seed itself, then thrusts it inward with what he thinks to be sufficient pressure and a steady hand.

The devious son of a bitch still shoots out of the bowl. Thankfully, it lands on a nearby section of tiles, bursting upon impact. His cheeks heat again, pulse quickening with his frustration and the expectant gaze of Jihane on him.

“This is the most hull-licking, bilge-pissing, barnacle-fucking, foolish bleedin’—” Gabriel says, the rest of his words swallowed in a heavy sigh. The notion of tossing the whole bowl across Jihane’s fancy courtyard seems more appealing by the heartbeat.

“Such inventive language. Swears, I assume. Not ones I’m familiar with.”

“Don’t imagine you would be. They ain’t exactly commonplace, and much of a dirty conniving bastard as your Sea-Trader is, his language is cleaner than the rest of him.” Gabriel frowns at the cracked and split husk of fruit in the bowl in his hand, needle at the ready. He reckons he’s got it this next time. “Plus, it’s a particular gift of mine.”

“I’d recommend keeping a civil tongue when you address me. The way you speak of the Sea-Trader? I wouldn’t tolerate it.”

“He gives as good as he gets, believe you me. And anyway, he ain’t here.”

Gabriel places the tip of the needle against the seed and pushes it through in a single thrust. He whoops with delight, though he’s careful to keep his hand even. He lifts it from the bowl to examine his handiwork. In the fading light, the gold of the needle looks like treasure preserved in amber where it penetrates the seed. For a moment, he thinks about popping into his mouth, but Jihane’s expectant look quashes that impulse before it truly gets underway.

“Well done. Now feed it to me, and be careful not to injure me. It will end our game along with mess.”

“Just full of demands, aren’t you? Anything else, Mistress?” Gabriel asks, using the Trinoran word he’s heard Jihane’s staff tack on the end of every sentence and before each use of her name.

Jihane’s eyebrows raise to the elegant, oiled baby hairs at her hairline. Her surprise melts into the kind of expression that makes Gabriel’s heart twist and cock throb: delight with the promise of some inventive cruelty.

“I see you’ve a gift for other parts of language too.” Her searching gaze sends a hot prickle across his skin. “Since you’re so eager to please, I can certainly give you another task.” Jihane flutters her lashes, the bold sweep of gold eye paint glittering as she does. “You can thank me for the privilege of allowing you to feed me before we begin.”

Thank her? For assigning him some tedious, ass-backward work? He opens his mouth to tell her exactly what he’s going to thank her for… and stops when Jihane reaches up and rests her sharp claw against his lips in a shushing motion.

“You’re doing so well, Scion-Captain. Don’t ruin it in a rash moment,” Jihane says, eyes hooded. “Or do. It would please me as much to send you away and deny you as it would to keep going. What happens next depends entirely on you.” She removes her hand and rests it across the curve of her belly, bronzed claws splayed against the white of her clothing, recumbent in the pile of tasseled pillows as she waits.

He hates the way his heart pounds behind his ribs, the way his inner thighs slip against each other in his arousal. Gabriel’s still got the threaded seed and needle in hand as he weathers the hot rush of emotions—fury, lust, shame, desire. He sucks in a deep lungful of air, nose flaring.

“Thank you,” he grits out, face burning, “for lettin’ me feed you.”

“Almost. You’re forgetting the word you and your clever tongue picked up.”

Watcher take him to his watery fucking grave and spare him this humiliation. Gabriel vows to redouble his arguments when they get back to the political part of their negotiating.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

She beams at him, bright as the sun and warm as she claims the fire of her god is, and he’ll be buried inland if it doesn’t feel good to be the reason for it. “Perfect. Now, let’s begin.”

Jihane parts her full lips, the tip of her pink tongue and fangs visible as she waits. Gabriel’s lungs seize for a treacherous moment, cock pulsing at the image. Still, if he’s going to do a job, he’s going to do it well. He lifts the needle to her mouth and slips it inside, the topaz pearl resting on her tongue. Jihane closes her lips around the needle and gazes up at him, rose-gold eyes swallowed by her pupils. It takes him a second to realize she’s not going to draw back herself, so Gabriel keeps an even hand and slides the needle from her mouth, now freed of its juicy seed.

He watches in silence as she works the seed around her mouth, jaw moving as she bites down and hums in pleasure. Gabriel can relate. Just looking at the kliaquat’s flesh gets him hungry all over. Seeing her enjoy herself… Now he’s got two reasons for the spit flooding his mouth.

“There’s always the chance it was beginner’s luck. Again.”

“Luck’s for the Chance and the wildcards who follow them. But sure, I’ll do it again.”

This time, it’s much easier to get one of the seeds on the needle; the trick is going for the ones held in place by the membrane, that way they don’t fly off like hatches unbattened. Gabriel lifts it straight out then offers it to Jihane, threading it through her lips like an offering, clenching as she closes her eyes and waits for the needle to withdraw. Gabriel watches her throat work as she finally swallows the seed. A bead of orange-red juice lingers at the dip in her upper lip. “Well done, well done.” The praise burns like a quarterdeck covered in tar in Gabriel’s gut, quick and dangerous. She crooks her finger at him. “Lean down.”

The beginnings of a heady fog stir in Gabriel, clouding his normal urges to fight back. Not enough to dull his curiosity, though. He’s not sure if it’s pain or pleasure awaiting him at the end of her imaginary leash, but he’s keen to find out, so he leans down, belly clenched to brace himself. Jihane grips his shoulder and uses it as leverage to close the gap, and then her mouth is on his, warm and spiced and intoxicating. She parts his lips with her tongue in a mirror of his work with the needle, bestowing on him a deep kiss that redoubles the ache between his legs. What with his hands full, he can’t grab her by the ample hips and pull her closer as he’d like. But Gabriel’s still got his mouth. He groans and kisses back—tonguing at the tips of her fangs, licking the juice from her lip as the kiss breaks, then huffing out a frustrated breath when Jihane pulls back.

“Didn’t take you for the teasing kind.” “Teasing? If I were in the mood to, hmm. How does the expression go? Play with my food,” she lets a languorous pause fill the air as she looks him up and down, “You’d know it. That was a well-earned reward. I’m sure you’ll hear many rumors about me in your time here, most of which aren’t worth the breath spent to voice them. The one where I’m accused of being overgenerous to the point of bribery when people do as I bid?” She smiles, slow and decadent. “That has some degree of truth to it.”

“Reckon I’ll be the judge on whether the reward is generous enough for the task,” Gabriel retorts, smirking. “I’m used to my ship havin’ a belly full of treasure from all across the Fourfold. And folks can get… creative with their offerings when Xeheia’s crew boards their vessels.”

Jihane tosses her head back with a throaty laugh, generous breasts and belly shaking with each peal. She shoves at Gabriel’s thigh with her foot, a teasing push lacking the force to get him truly off balance. “See, I believe this is one reason we get along so well. Both of us are used to people signing their lives away to please us. I look forward to seeing such offerings for myself when you accept my contract.”

“Who said anything about accepting your contract? I still ain’t finished my talks with the Conflagration. And it’s more than a Rising before the weather will allow passage along the straits you wanna travel. A lot could happen between now and then.”

Jihane’s amusement writes itself on her features, her smugness a mirror to Gabriel’s own. She curves her foot inward and trails the ball along the outside of his thigh, venturing upward until it's tucked beneath his gifted robe. Her toes brush the crease where his leg meets his hip. Gabriel shudders at the delicate touch, then flushes and contemplates abandoning the whole kliaquat exercise, tugging her foot a handspan higher, and demonstrating his capability to turn the tables.

It must show on his face somehow because Jihane drops her foot and gives a sultry laugh. “You will. Of that I do not doubt, Scion-Captain. Now carry on before I lose my patience.”

Right. Gabriel had the bowl and needle in a white-knuckle grip if the tension in his joints is anything to go by. “Alright, alright. Time to see if you’re as generous as you claim.”

Gabriel pierces a third seed, albeit messily; tiny droplets of juice cling to the pinch of his thumb and forefinger. He feeds it to Jihane without incident, though she doesn’t seem inclined to offer one of the aforementioned rewards since it’s imperfect. By the fourth, he’s got the hang of it again. Jihane glows with satisfaction after she swallows the mouthful of fruit.

Turns out, she’s as good as her word. The more seeds he feeds her properly, the more she rewards him. It doesn’t make the task any less godsdamned tedious by nature, but it certainly makes it leagues more enjoyable. For the price of three unruptured pearls painstakingly placed on her tongue, he earns a second; Gabriel can taste the tartness of his own efforts as Jihane licks into his mouth, slow and deliberate. Several more seeds prove the price for more kisses—except Jihane leans in and places these on his taut nipples, tonguing at flesh and metal alike through the robe and leaving new stains in her wake.

“Not fair,” Gabriel grunts, tensing his thighs together in a bid to relieve the ache between them.

“Everything is fair when it’s my home, my game, and my rules.” Aside from her swollen lips, Jihane looks pristine and unaffected. “Keep going. I’m not finished, so neither are you.”

Impatient as all seven hells, Gabriel decides he can speed this up. He eases the needle through one seed then uses the edge of the bowl to push it further down the needle, carefully making room for a second. The second pearl joins the first, and when he lifts it to Jihane’s mouth, she smiles before closing her lips around the needle. She takes her time enjoying them, though by now they must be cool; her lashes flutter, and after she swallows, she lets out a pleased little sigh.

“Very good. You’re catching on so quickly.” With a cat-like smile, Jihane leans forward and places one hand in the valley of his chest, all five tips of her ornate claws nestled together on the skin the robe exposes. She beams up at him, radiating warmth like the galley stove during a winter storm, then drags her fingers down his chest and stomach, hard enough for him to feel the promise of pain but not hard enough to rip the cloth. The way he’s kneeling means she can’t get them where Gabriel really wants them, though even the brush of them across his lap has his cock throbbing and nerves tingling. “Do that again. Three, this time.”

Watcher help him, he doesn’t think twice about questioning it. In his haste, Gabriel misjudges the spot on the first seed; it bounces out of the bowl and off the top of Jihane’s foot, rolling down a groove in the pavilion tiles. A damning drop of orange juice quivers on the top of it. She arches a thick brow at him. “What did I say about patience? That was a close call.”

That does it. Gabriel sets the bowl and needle down, earning him a deeper glare from Jihane. He takes her delicate foot in both hands, one palm against her ankle with fingers wrapped around it to steady it, the other palm against her sole; her foot’s small enough that Gabriel could cover it completely and then some, if he wanted.

Instead, he bends down, back curved, and lifts it to his mouth. Clearly, Jihane doesn’t have much of a problem with this gesture, considering she could kick his teeth in if she took sincere issue. He locks eyes with her over the top of her foot. A delicate set of golden bangles in the interlocking shapes of leaves around her ankle tinkles like windchimes.

“Sorry, Mistress,” he says, overwrought for theatrics sake. Gabriel presses his lips to the top of her foot in a chaste kiss, inhaling deep to enjoy the perfume drifting from her soft skin. He deepens the kiss, teasing at the tracery of veins beneath his lips with the tip of his tongue. A faint hint of tartness confirms he’s gotten to the offending juice. “Won’t happen again,” he says before carefully placing her foot back on its ruby-red pillow.

Jihane’s breath comes deep, breasts straining against the nacreous white fabric of her dress. “And here I discover another one of your ‘talents’: making an apology sound like insolence.”

“Given that I ain’t in the habit of making apologies at all, I can’t see why you’re complaining.”

“My only complaint is you dallying with the task I set you.”

Gabriel smirks, then picks up the bowl and needle. Only a small pocket of seeds remains in the kliaquat. Almost done.

He intends to keep his wits about him, threading seeds three at a time to hurry along the task. But Jihane keeps her gaze on his, sure and steady, stoking the fire in his belly until the molten tension threatens to overflow. She can’t hide her own impatience. Gabriel notices how she draws back first from the needle, not bothering to wait for him to do it, and how she spends less time savouring the pearls.

By the time he finishes, Gabriel’s fingers are stained again, digits a rusty, shimmering orange from all the juices. A shallow pool of kliaquat juice covers the bottom of his fancy bowl, but true to his word, not a drop has gotten on Jihane’s outfit.

Jihane sits up, tucking both legs beneath her. “Here. Let me help clean you.”

Before Gabriel can do a godsdamn thing about it, Jihane takes his free hand in her burning one and brings it to her mouth. She runs her tongue along the curve of his thumb, licking it clean of juice with slow passes. When she gets to his fingers, she takes his pointer finger into her mouth entire, sucking on it in steady pulses; Gabriel’s heart pounds in tandem with Jihane’s attentions as he imagines those same attentions on his cock. She pulls away with syrupy slowness, her long lashes a false veil of demureness over her heated gaze.

He wants to say something, anything. He’s not the kind to get rendered speechless by more gentle diversions, no matter how gorgeous the person bestowing them. Gabriel squares up, taking a deep lungful of breath and intending to give his mouth free rein.

Except Jihane curls her tongue around his middle finger, paying special attention to the calluses on the underside; the silk of her tongue against the rough skin has him shivering where he keels. She kisses her way down to the juice-stained ring, then works her tongue around every golden crevice of the signet; her fangs dig in on either side of his knuckle as she commits to the task. Gabriel moans, the sharp prick of drawn blood and the warm softness of her mouth too much for him to hold back.

He barely registers her cleaning his remaining fingers. It’s hard to focus with the roar of desire washing out almost everything else. The roar becomes a bone-shattering clap of thunder when Gabriel sees Jihane’s just as affected. There’s the tell-tale holy glow to her eyes and scars, and a thin plume of smoke escapes her nose with every exhale.

Fuck it. Gabriel abandons the bowl and chucks it to the ground. Too hard, judging by the delicate crack and wet splash. Jihane hisses a word in Trinoran that must be a swear, but that’s all she gets out before Gabriel frames her heart-shaped face in his hands and pulls it closer. He noses at the divot above Jihane’s upper lip and inhales deep, groaning as he chases the holy smoke of her breath. Jihane wraps her clawed fingers around his wrists and squeezes, but if it’s meant to discourage him, it doesn’t, especially not with a moan—and more smoke—slipping between her painted lips.

It’s a cross between unfamiliar spices—cloves, cinnamon—and the familiar smells of a ship set to the flame, wood burning and crackling as it sinks to the Depths. Gabriel presses his lips to hers and kisses her like she’s a breath of air after diving in freshwater, desperate for the taste of her, grunting and squeezing his thighs together when Jihane gasps a mouthful of smoke into his. She releases one of his wrists to place her hand at the back of his head, pushing him down to her neck and redirecting his efforts. Gabriel’s all too happy to oblige, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, left drenched between the thighs twice over at the sultry groan it elicits from her.

All too soon, Jihane pulls back and keeps Gabriel at a distance with a hand on his chest, her own breath coming heavy.

“Fetch me another kliaquat.” Gabriel gropes for spoken language, words temporarily stolen. “Really? We’re still on that? Ain’t I done enough by now?”

Were it not the cause of some particular suffering on his part, he’d admire the way her expression changes in an instant, cool and imperious, eyes aglow with her god’s fire. “Do not make me ask again, Gabriel.”

He heaves an irritated sigh but does as she asks. His long reach means he only has to twist his torso and lean a bit to reach the table, rolling a pale blue fruit into his palm with his fingers and bringing it to Jihane.

She plucks it from his grasp, then lifts it to eye level, considering. It looks for all the world like a gem in its setting, perched in the cage of her golden claws. Jihane glances between Gabriel and the kliaquat, her icy expression melting into an amused grin.

“This was going to be another reward, but since you’ve decided to be difficult…”

With no warning, Jihane wields her claws like knives against the firm husk of the fruit and splits it in half—right above her spotless dress.

Instinct drives Gabriel forward, lunging from his kneel to cup his hands beneath Jihane’s. Mercifully, the iridescent juice seems to have missed the white, though flecks of it decorate the tops of her breasts and cheeks. Juice from the split pearls flows from the seam in the fruit, dripping into the cup Gabriel’s made of his hands.

There’s a problem, though. There’s also juice running down Jihane’s fingers in tiny rivulets from where she’s split the fruit. He can chart the course of it plain as day – it’ll drip from her forearms to her clothing before long. Except if he moves his hand, there’s going to be a stain whether he likes it or not.

He’s still got his mouth.

Gabriel hunches and starts lapping at Jihane’s wrists and fingers, chasing every drop of juice he can find. He outlines the sharp golden curve of her claws, the deep lines of her palms, the pulse point of her wrist with his tongue, his aim speed rather than seduction. Still, he’s not fast enough. By the time he finishes with her right hand, there’s juice streaming down her left forearm, following the runnels left by the scars of the Maw.

He switches hands and licks those too. He traces the webbing of scars with his tongue, warm kliaquat juice tinting every swallow. It occurs to him too late that he's lapping at her holy mark like a shipcat at a dish of cream, that maybe it might not be welcome. But as his tongue meets the point where her pulse and her scars intersect on the inside of her wrist, Jihane moans, low and urgent. Not unwelcome, then.

Gabriel’s sucking the juice from Jihane’s jeweled claws when she tosses half of the kliaquat aside in a careless flick. His lungs seize, worried all his work will have been for nothing, but the luxurious white fabric remains clean. Deciding he’s better safe than sorry, Gabriel places his mouth to the point where his wrists meet and tilts the makeshift bowl of his hands, slurping up the remnants of the juice before it can dribble through his fingers. When he looks up through his lashes at her, she moans softly, then lifts the remaining half of the fruit to his mouth.

“Eat.”

Watcher avert her all-seeing eye, Gabriel doesn’t hesitate.

Keeping his hands cupped beneath it, Gabriel descends on the fruit with lips and tongue and teeth, driven by multiple scorching heats: Jihane’s gaze, the ache of his cock, the pounding in his chest. He sucks seeds into his mouth, popping them with his tongue, one of his several thirsts quenched by the flood of spiced juice. Gabriel stays as careful as he can, taking seeds between his teeth, licking them out of their nestled pockets.

He stays careful all the way until Jihane slides her palm beneath his robe and up his inner thigh, only coming to a stop when the heel of her hand rests against his cock. With this angle, her claws rest dangerously close to his hole, and when she starts to rub her palm back and forth against him, each pass brings a delicious prick of pain against tender skin.

It wipes the conscious thought from his mind.

He devours the kliaquat like he needs it to live, rutting his hips against Jihane’s hand at the same time. Gabriel doesn’t bother separating seed and membrane; bitter pith and vibrant seeds mingle, barely chewed, swallowed whole. Juice covers his mouth and courses through his beard and down his neck, but he doesn’t care, his world narrowed to Jihane’s hand on his dick and her gaze on him as he eats from the palm of her hand.

It’s against her hand that he comes, moaning around a mouthful of seeds, cock pulsing as she rakes her claws through the soaked hair at the apex of his thighs. He barely manages to swallow before a moan escapes him, thighs clamped around Jihane’s hand as he rides out the aftershocks.

Dizzy, breathless, it takes him several long moments to look down.

He’s finished this half of the fruit… but dark orange splatters cover the white of Jihane’s dress. The pattern puts him in the mind of wounds, of bloodshed. Shame comes hot on the heels of his peak—at eating from her hand like an animal, at failing her task, at wanting to succeed in the first place, at feeling ready for a second climax no sooner than the first ended, at wanting to ply his tongue between her legs and satisfy a different hunger.

Jihane glances down, disappointment mingling with traces of lust on her features. She shakes her head softly, then pats Gabriel’s cheek with the same hand she had between his legs; he can smell his arousal on her fingers along with a metallic hint that might be his blood. “Now thank me, Scion-Captain, for the gift of pleasure I just gave you. By name, please.”

His pride puts up a valiant fight, but what with his defenses storm-battered and hole still clenching in the aftershocks, it loses. “Thank you, Jihane.” Jihane strokes his cheekbone with her thumb, anointing him with his own release. Then she holds her hand in front of his mouth expectantly, wrist loose and fingers draped low. By the time he finishes licking it clean of the most personal kind of salt price, his cheeks are burning and he’s hard all over again from the luxurious, shameful pleasure of it all.

For a foggy moment, Gabriel’s certain she won’t hold the stains against him. But even with his wits addled, there’s finality in the lingering kiss Jihane places on his twice-stained lips.

“For a first attempt, you did well. But I did warn you there’d be consequences for failure.” She stands, bearing regal, as though her dress and skin weren’t covered in kliaquat juice. “I need to change before my next engagement now, which means our time together is at an end. But I’ll have Sidqi come by to show you out, once you’ve had time to… collect yourself.” She gives his cheek a final, condescending pat, then winks. “I’ll see you at the Conflagration two days hence.”

All Gabriel can do is watch her, stunned, as she leaves, head high and hips swaying, her bare feet padding against the tiles of the pavilion. He watches until she vanishes into the west entrance to her estate, then surveys the damage around him: slick thighs, aching cock, stained clothes, discarded fruit, broken ceramic.

Fuck him six ways through all seven hells. Jihane may have won this round. But next time, next time…

He’ll demonstrate just what sort of command being the captain of the most notorious ship in the Fourfold Seas requires.

#the forsaken and the forsworn #gabriel berthelot #jihane n'ait #I haven't come up with a portmantaeu for these two even though they're canon since we've entered the poly part of this verse #my writing #happy birthday times two Gab #you deserve the whole world #and if you've made it through 11k of service submission and food kink #kudos to you #qliatori

[personal-reporter]

I grandi marchi: Chanel

La casa che segnò per sempre la moda del Novecento… Gabrielle Chanel nacque  il 19 agosto 1883 nella provincia francese e dopo che la madre, debole e malata, morì prematuramente, il padre, venditore ambulante, mandò i due maschi a lavorare e le tre bambine nell’orfanotrofio di Aubazine. Dopo sei anni nell’istituto delle suore del Sacro Cuore di Maria, Chanel, con la zia Adrienne, si trasferì a Moulins e lavorò presso un  negozio di biancheria e maglieria come commessa per poi, dopo un anno, aprire una piccola attività di riparazioni sartoriali. Li Gabrielle  conobbe Etienne Balsan che, intrigato e ammaliato dalla figura di Chanel, le chiese nel 1908 di trasferirsi nella sua tenuta nella campagna vicino a Parigi. Durante la permanenza a Royallieu, Chanel scopri  mondo  delle attività sportive, le scuderie, i cavalli da corsa, le feste, la vita oziosa e le abitudini della classe borghese. Coco cominciò così a modificare i sui cappelli, spogliandoli di tutte quelle inutili decorazioni, riducendone le forme e rendendoli più pratici da indossare e, con l’aiuto finanziario di Balsan, aprì nel 1909 un piccolo laboratorio a Parigi. L’anno successivo, nel 1910, Gabrielle affittò la prima sede di rue Cambon della maison Chanel, grazie all’aiuto economico di Arthur Capel, soprannominato Boy. Nel 1913, notando che durante l’estate le sue clienti si spostavano dalla capitale a Deauville, in Normandia, Chanel aprì una boutique nella cittadina di villeggiatura. Coco cominciò a pensare a un abbigliamento più adatto, che andava da capi di maglia dritti e comodi ai pullover sportivi, dai blazer in flanella dal taglio maschile alle cuffie di lana e fu la prima designer ad associare il suo nome ad un profumo nel 1923, con lo Chanel n°5.. Sempre in cerca di novità e cambiamenti, nel 1926 inventò la petite robe noir, l’abitino nero che poteva essere portato in qualsiasi occasione, oggi chiamato tubino. Tra il 1927 e il 1930 le collezioni di Coco si concentrarono  soprattutto sui completi, con taglio maschile e di tweed. Durante il periodo bellico Chanel si stabilì presso l’hotel Ritz e fino il conflitto decise per l’esilio volontario in Svizzera, dopo esser stata accusata di tradimento alla patria. A Saint Moritz Coco visse per nove anni e quando nel 1946 tornò a Parigi, quello che la aspetta è totalmente diverso così, nel 1953, organizzò una sfilata per tentare di rilanciare il marchio ma le aspettative non coincidono con i pareri della stampa che stroncò la collezione. Chanel non si arrese e creò il tailleur in tweed, composto da tre pezzi: giacca, gonna e una blusa, con le rifiniture a trama e ordito di colori contrastanti e, nel 1955, è la borsetta 2.55, imbottita e trapuntata, con la catena dorata. Lo stile Chanel recuperò la sua fama, proponendosi come alternativa al New look proposto da Dior. Coco Chanel, dopo una vita intensa, morì il 10 gennaio 1971 e la maison fu  diretta dagli assistenti che con Gabrielle avevano lavorato per anni, Gaston Berthelot e Ramon Esparza, e dalle loro collaboratrici, Yvonne Dudel e Jean Cazaubon. Nel 1983,  con la collezione haute couture, debuttò l’icona della nuova era della maison Chanel, Karl Lagerfeld, con una nuova immagine del brand, saldamente ancorata ai valori stilistici della casa di moda ma con dei tocchi innovativi e giovani, sempre al passo con i tempi. Nel febbraio 2019 Lagerfeld morì ad 85 anni, lasciando un profondo vuoto nel mondo della moda e Chanel nominò Virginie Viard nuovo direttore creativo. Read the full article

[moinchuk]

Jean Michel Blais - Passepied from Adrian Villagomez on Vimeo.

Director – Adrian Villagomez DOP – Juliette Lossky Assistant director – Charlotte Danais 1st AC – Olivier Aubé Steadicam operator – Kes Tagney Chief Gaffer – Pierre-Luc Jobin Chier Grip – Brice Bodson Grip – Ludovic Pilon Swing – Tom Berthelot Best-Boy – David Booth Choreographer – Lauri-Ann Lauzon Stylist – Marianne Blais Stylist – Cloé Fortier Styling Assistant -Sophie Vincelette HMU – Arianne Tremblay HMU – MaryJane Khalif HMU assistant – Amanda Doucet Production : Consulat Producer – Elyse Belmont-Stroh Production coordinator – Samuel Petitclerc Production assistant – Nicholas Gonos Production assistant – Tiffany St-Surin Site conservation technicians – Samuel Villagomez Site conservation technicians – Timour Site conservation technicians – Marie Pontais Site conservation technicians – Mathilde Thomas Offline editor – Vinoth Varatharajan Online editor – Adrian Villagomez Color grading – Simon Boissoneaux

CAST Protagonist – Sacha Barbants Antagonist – Vladimir Belova-Mourkes Artist – Jean-Michel Blais Danser – Jordan Faye Danser – Brittney Gering Danser – Misheel Ganbold Danser – Nicholas Bellefleur Figuration – Amanda Doucet Figuration – Charlie Kunce Figuration – Devon Bates Figuration – Emma Cocchrane Figuration – Gabriel Cordova Figuration – Laurent Bélanger Figuration – Malaika Raymond Figuration – Ludovic Balmir Figuration – Marilou Richer Figuration – Paolo Marmin Figuration – Dominic Harrisson Danis Figuration – Arnaud Barbants Figuration – Larissa

SUPPLIER Mtl Grande – camera equipment Cineground – Camera equipment Cinepool – Cinema equipment Multi service luna – protection equipment MainFilm - 16 mm camera MELS – 16 mm dev + scan

SPECIAL THANKS La Belle Tonki and the Keenan Residence L'École Supérieure de ballet du Québec

[1205241]

Jean Michel Blais - Passepied from Adrian Villagomez on Vimeo.

Director – Adrian Villagomez DOP – Juliette Lossky Assistant director – Charlotte Danais 1st AC – Olivier Aubé Steadicam operator – Kes Tagney Chief Gaffer – Pierre-Luc Jobin Chier Grip – Brice Bodson Grip – Ludovic Pilon Swing – Tom Berthelot Best-Boy – David Booth Choreographer – Lauri-Ann Lauzon Stylist – Marianne Blais Stylist – Cloé Fortier Styling Assistant -Sophie Vincelette HMU – Arianne Tremblay HMU – MaryJane Khalif HMU assistant – Amanda Doucet Production : Consulat Producer – Elyse Belmont-Stroh Production coordinator – Samuel Petitclerc Production assistant – Nicholas Gonos Production assistant – Tiffany St-Surin Site conservation technicians – Samuel Villagomez Site conservation technicians – Timour Site conservation technicians – Marie Pontais Site conservation technicians – Mathilde Thomas Offline editor – Vinoth Varatharajan Online editor – Adrian Villagomez Color grading – Simon Boissoneaux

CAST Protagonist – Sacha Barbants Antagonist – Vladimir Belova-Mourkes Artist – Jean-Michel Blais Danser – Jordan Faye Danser – Brittney Gering Danser – Misheel Ganbold Danser – Nicholas Bellefleur Figuration – Amanda Doucet Figuration – Charlie Kunce Figuration – Devon Bates Figuration – Emma Cocchrane Figuration – Gabriel Cordova Figuration – Laurent Bélanger Figuration – Malaika Raymond Figuration – Ludovic Balmir Figuration – Marilou Richer Figuration – Paolo Marmin Figuration – Dominic Harrisson Danis Figuration – Arnaud Barbants Figuration – Larissa

SUPPLIER Mtl Grande – camera equipment Cineground – Camera equipment Cinepool – Cinema equipment Multi service luna – protection equipment MainFilm - 16 mm camera MELS – 16 mm dev + scan

SPECIAL THANKS La Belle Tonki and the Keenan Residence L'École Supérieure de ballet du Québec

[remixinc]

Jean Michel Blais - Passepied from Adrian Villagomez on Vimeo.

Director – Adrian Villagomez DOP – Juliette Lossky Assistant director – Charlotte Danais 1st AC – Olivier Aubé Steadicam operator – Kes Tagney Chief Gaffer – Pierre-Luc Jobin Chier Grip – Brice Bodson Grip – Ludovic Pilon Swing – Tom Berthelot Best-Boy – David Booth Choreographer – Lauri-Ann Lauzon Stylist – Marianne Blais Stylist – Cloé Fortier Styling Assistant -Sophie Vincelette HMU – Arianne Tremblay HMU – MaryJane Khalif HMU assistant – Amanda Doucet Production : Consulat Producer – Elyse Belmont-Stroh Production coordinator – Samuel Petitclerc Production assistant – Nicholas Gonos Production assistant – Tiffany St-Surin Site conservation technicians – Samuel Villagomez Site conservation technicians – Timour Site conservation technicians – Marie Pontais Site conservation technicians – Mathilde Thomas Offline editor – Vinoth Varatharajan Online editor – Adrian Villagomez Color grading – Simon Boissoneaux

CAST Protagonist – Sacha Barbants Antagonist – Vladimir Belova-Mourkes Artist – Jean-Michel Blais Danser – Jordan Faye Danser – Brittney Gering Danser – Misheel Ganbold Danser – Nicholas Bellefleur Figuration – Amanda Doucet Figuration – Charlie Kunce Figuration – Devon Bates Figuration – Emma Cocchrane Figuration – Gabriel Cordova Figuration – Laurent Bélanger Figuration – Malaika Raymond Figuration – Ludovic Balmir Figuration – Marilou Richer Figuration – Paolo Marmin Figuration – Dominic Harrisson Danis Figuration – Arnaud Barbants Figuration – Larissa

SUPPLIER Mtl Grande – camera equipment Cineground – Camera equipment Cinepool – Cinema equipment Multi service luna – protection equipment MainFilm - 16 mm camera MELS – 16 mm dev + scan

SPECIAL THANKS La Belle Tonki and the Keenan Residence L'École Supérieure de ballet du Québec

[jgmail]

LOS ALQUIMISTAS Y EL FLUIDO UNIVERSAL

Plancha numero 4 del Mutus Liber, Bibliotheca Chimica Curiosa, Mangentus, 1702

Por Eugene Canseliet

Traducción de Juan Gabriel Caro Rivera

 Artículo publicado en el número 2 de la revista Initiation, Magie et Science, 1946 (esta revista cambió su nombre en 1947 y luego se convirtió en Initiation et Science)

 Volver a honrar el propósito de los alquimistas, rejuvenecidos por una terminología familiar para nuestros oídos educados en los últimos y sensacionales descubrimientos de la ciencia nos muestran que la realización de este sueño, no hace mucho condenado, se relaciona más particularmente con la física trascendente que con la química materializada. Ambas clasificaciones pueden hacernos sonreír, pero nos parece que subrayan el divorcio científico mejor que Marcelin Berthelot, - si lo hubiéramos buscado, - sacando a la luz entre los griegos de los mejores días de la Gnosis, y que el Edad Media sabia expresada en dos sustantivos, ahora confusos: Espagiria y Alquimia. El creador de la termoquímica no supo establecer esta profunda diferencia y, al no verlo también en la alquimia, en la madre desaparecida de la química, concluye imprudentemente: “Las operaciones reales realizadas por alquimistas, las cuales conocemos todas y las repetimos todos los días en nuestros laboratorios, porque en ese sentido, son nuestros antepasados ​​y nuestros precursores prácticos” (1). Por el contrario, estas manipulaciones no tienen nada en común con las de la Gran Obra Alquímica, y es conectándolos a los tanteos empíricos de los espagiristas y sopladores que nos cuenta el President d´Espagnet en el canon 6 de su Libro Secreto de la filosofía de Hermes:

 “Los químicos vulgares que aplican sus mentes sólo a continuas sublimaciones, a destilaciones, resoluciones, congelaciones, para extraer de diferentes formas los espíritus y tinturas, y en otras operaciones más sutiles de lo que son útiles, participando así en varios errores, llevan al infierno sus mentes para su propio placer, y nunca por su propio genio no reflexionarán sobre el simple camino que la naturaleza tiene allí, ni un rayo de verdad vendrá para iluminarlos y guiarlos”.

 Por lo tanto, un sucesor directo de la antigua espagiria, la química moderna, como ella, sigue estando separada de la alquimia, por su negativa a utilizar las fuerzas espirituales, que la segunda nunca deja de poner en juego el Vox populi, vox Dei; si hay que creer en el axioma de que el pueblo siempre tiene la razón. ¿Sería entonces esta infalible facultad la que traspasaría su terquedad al imaginar al alquimista con un sombrero largo y puntiagudo, un vestido holgado con tachuelas y la varita del mago en la mano?

Sin embargo, vemos en este retrato debido al imaginario popular nada más que una alegoría indignada por la persona misma del artista químico y la naturaleza secreta de sus trabajos. El alquimista, y con este término nos referimos al filósofo que sigue rigurosamente el camino de la Gran Obra, el alquimista, decimos, dirige todo hacia la captura del espíritu universal, del que hará, en su creación microcósmica, la fuente de la vida y el factor de la perfección. El adepto perseverante y desventurado, conocido con el seudónimo de Cyliani (Silenus), personifica el Spiritus mundi de los textos antiguos en la ninfa de gran belleza que es el artífice de su laborioso éxito y que le habla, en sueños, al pie de un gran roble:

 “Mi esencia es celestial, incluso puedes pensar en mí como un agotamiento de la estrella polar. Mi poder es tal que todo lo animo: soy el espíritu astral, doy vida a todo lo que respira y vegeta, lo sé todo. Habla: ¿qué puedo hacer por ti?” (3).

 Es fácil imaginar a qué errores, a qué exceso, se debió la búsqueda de este maravilloso agente para empujar a hombres codiciosos e ignorantes, mucho más inclinados a recurrir a indicaciones inmediatas en las colecciones de secretos, sólo para meditar cuidadosamente en las teorías de los clásicos famosos en Arte.

 Desde este punto de vista, el Nostoc, gelatinoso y verdoso, aparece de repente en los pasillos de los jardines para, no menos abruptamente, desaparecer sin dejar rastro, ya que tuvo un largo favor de los sopladores, como lo demuestran las numerosas y sugerentes paráfrasis, de las que utilizado para designarlo: Arche del cielo, esputo de la luna, mantequilla mágica, vitriolo vegetal, esputo de mayo, Purgatorio de las estrellas, rocío graso, espuma primaveral, etc. ... denominaciones, tomadas de los mejores autores, que designan el spiritus mundi, del cual los archimistas creían reconocer, dentro del nostoc, el vehículo vomitado, en la tierra, por los astros y las estrellas. En relación con este concepto erróneo, un singular empírico, peluquero de profesión y autor de famosos tratados de cartomancia, identifica el espíritu universal con la materia prima, y ve a éste llevándola en esta “ligera espuma que crece con el tiempo en los viejos techos de paja y las ruinas de los edificios” (4).

 Este fenómeno natural, podríamos admirarlo con nuestro autor, que se esconde con el seudónimo de Etteilla, al deletrear al revés, el apellido Alliette. Allí, en el número 48 de la calle de l'Oseille, en el Marais, el ingenioso peluquero mostraba a sus clientes un tipo diferente, con una retribución honesta, los avatares de la materia, dentro de la vasija del filósofo: “el verdadero curioso por el Gran Trabajo, ya que se me ocurre seguir las variaciones mías, en lugar de dar diariamente tres libros prefieren mantener el rango de mis internos, treinta libros al mes: lo que les facilita atraer a veces un científico, y veces un aficionado” (5).

 Ciertamente, la mente por sí sola es capaz de influir en la materia y los cuerpos no pueden actuar sobre los cuerpos, como los viejos adeptos repiten una y otra vez. Es por esto que estos, en el origen de su creación, copiada rigurosamente de la de Dios, insiste en la necesidad de que en ella se unan, para el trabajo común, materia y espíritu. ¿No deberíamos reconocerlos a ambos en la indispensable dualidad, en el libro de Proverbios, donde es obvio que Dios no podría manifestarse sin la Madre primitiva (Mater = materia)? En este lugar no es la sabiduría excelencia, la Santísima Virgen, que dice de sí misma: “El Señor me poseyó al principio de sus caminos y yo fui desde el principio (a principio), antes de que no se hiciera nada. Fui establecida desde la eternidad (ab eterno), y desde el principio, antes de que la tierra fuera creada” (6) …

 ¿Cuál es entonces este caos primordial, del cual Dios dejó algunos fragmentos en la tierra, a la disposición de los hombres de buena voluntad? ¿Qué es esta sustancia prodigiosa, llamada imán por el misterioso Eyrenée Philalèthe, que es de hecho el hombre más extraño Inglaterra produjo? ¿Qué profecía esconden estas líneas de su famoso tratado: “Porque Elie Artiste ya nació, y se dicen cosas admirables de la Ciudad de Dios? (7).

 ¿Podría ser este el largo período de prosperidad y felicidad prometido a la humanidad incruenta, por los recientes descubrimientos de los físicos en el mundo atómico? Esperamos mucho de Betatron, el sucesor perfecto del Cyclotron. Quizás este dispositivo titánico explique el milagro que el alquimista provoca sin comprenderlo, y que simplemente equivale a capturar, con el espejo apropiado, este fluido universal, llamado, en terminología científica moderna, radiación cósmica.

 Notas:

 (1) Marcelin Berthelot, Les Origines de l'alchimie, Paris, Georges Steinheil, 1885, pág. 285.

(2) Este pequeño tratado, publicado por primera vez, en latín, en 1623, adquirió de inmediato una gran reputación: también fue atribuido a un seguidor anónimo, solo conocido con el nombre de Caballero Imperial.

(3) Cyalini, Hermès dévoilé, Paris, Chacornac, 1915, pág. 15.

(4) Etteilla, Les sept nuances de l’œuvre, Paris, 1785, pág. 3.

(5) Ibíd., pág. 23.

(6) Livre des Proverbes, chapitre VIII, versos 22 y 23.

(7) Eyrenée Philalèthe, L’Entrée ouverte au palais fermé du Roi, chapitre XIII, paragraphe XXVIII.

#alquimia #esoterismo

[uneminuteparseconde]

Des concerts à Paris et alentour en gras : les derniers ajouts :-: in bold: the last news Novembre 06. Scattered Purgatory + Qian Geng + UVB76 + ruò tán – Le Cirque électrique 06. Minus Pilot + GNG + Thomas Stone + Kevin Buckland – Café de Paris 06. Mont Analogue + Les Halles + Bravo Tounky – Garage Mu 06. Guitar Wolf + School Disco – Gibus 06. Glacial – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 06. Fred Terror + BLNDR + Paulie Jan + Panzer – Rex Club 06. The Murder Capital – Nouveau Casino ||COMPLET|| 07. Camilla Sparksss + Hyperculte [+ Xiu Xiu : ANNULÉ] – Petit Bain 07. Kælan Mikla + Leroy se meurt – La Boule noire 07. The Flamenco Thief + Fauna y Flora – La Ville d'Épinal 07. Randomer + Parallx + Parfait – Glazart 08. 10LEC6 + Mad Rey + Promesses (Salon Offprint) – École des Beaux-Arts (gratuit) 08. Bedroom Community – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 08. Part Chimp + Gnod + Hey Colossus – Petit Bain 08. Sourdurent + Raymonde – Pan Piper 08. Jad Wio + Love in Prague – Gibus 08. Crystal Geometry + Monya + Size Pier + Kaya + Sina XX – La Station 08. Jennifer Cardini b2b Gerd Janson + Mouse on Mars + Fantastic Twins + Oko DJ + Miley Serious b2b Philipp Strobel (10 ans d’Arte concert) – La Machine (gratuit sur résa) ||COMPLET|| 08. Boy Harscher – Trabendo ||COMPLET|| 09. Trotski nautique (20 ans de l’Omadis) – Omadis (gratuit) 09. Molchat Doma + War Scenes – La Station 09. Fleuves Noirs + Thank + Drive with a Dead Girl + Panico Panico – Le Rigoletto 09. Leroy se meurt + Staatseinde – Le Zorba 09. Kwartz + ABSL + Toscan Haas – Glazart 10. Amiina : cinéconcert sur "Fantomas" de Louis Feuillade – Le Studio|Philharmonie 10. Ólafur Arnald + Hugar – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 10. Nosfell : “Süanij, dans la forêt du songe” (fest. Paris en toutes lettres) – Maison de la poésie 10. ToutEstBeau + Mort né + Sebum XS + Stator + Nouveau Système – Les Nautes 10. Anetha + Talisman + Claudio PRC – Dehors brut 10. Fontaine D.C. – Bataclan ||COMPLET|| 11. Friponnes de Porc + Flesh World + Sergej Vutuc – tbc 12. Deerhunter + Moon Diagrams – Trabendo 12. Up-Tight + Officine – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 13. Mick Harvey & JP Silo, Steve Shelley, Glenn Lewis – Les Trois Baudets 13. Melania + Kiddo – Badaboum 14. Dinah Bird & Jean-Philippe Renoult (Inaudible Matters) – La Gaîté lyrique 14. Girl Band + Silverbacks – La Maroquinerie 14. Automatisme + Lacustre (Sulfure fest.) – Le vent se lève 14. Le Crabe + LR 666 + W 666 D + Insin – Café de Paris 14. Stella Chiweshe + Is a Fish – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 14. Manni Dee + Remco Beekwilder + Mental Infection – Glazart 15. Von Pariahs + Nursery – Point FMR 15. Tendra Ael + City Dragon + Meryll Ampe + Divisas – La Pointe Lafayette 15. Scrtch + Feromil + Mistress Bomb H – Le Cirque électrique 15. Chemical Brothers – Seine musicale (Boulogne-Billancourt) 15. Karenn + 16H07 + Antigone... (Big Bang Festival) – Les Docks de Paris 15. Ron Morelli + Krikor + A.T. + Gabriel D.ko + Mad Pablo – La Bellevilloise 15. Kap Bambino – La Gaîté lyrique ||ANNULÉ|| 16. Princess Century + Grand 8 + The Disease – L'International 16. Magrava + ruò tán + Jesus Cry Stalin – Le Picolo (Saint-Ouen) 16. Kas:st + Agoria + Bambounou b2b François X + Charles Kenkler + Matrixxman + Remcord...(Big Bang Festival) – Les Docks de Paris 17. Nitzer Ebb + Liebknecht – La Machine 17. Tropical Fuck Storm + Unschooling – Badaboum 18. Omni + The Gotobeds + Pleasure Principle – La Boule noire 18. Surf Curse + edgar déception + Fiasco – Supersonic (gratuit) 19. Earth + Helen Money – Petit Bain 20. Lucy Railton + Sean Baxter + Jessica Ekomane – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 21. Cate Le Bon + Grimm Grimm – Petit Bain 21. Haco + Emiko Ota avec KiriSute Gomen – Studio Campus 21. Vincent Ségal, Clément Saunier, Odile Auboin, Jossalyn Jessen et Gilbert Nouno jouent des pièces de Peter Eötvös, Yan Maresz, Gilbert Nouno et Fausto Romitelli (fest. Innovasounds) – Le 104 21>23. Nosfell : “Le Corps des songes” (fest. New Settings) – Théâtre de la Cité internationale 22. eRikm + Franck Vigroux & Antoine Schmitt : “Chronostasis” (fest. Innovasounds) – Le 104 22. Rubin Steiner + Dombrance + Ambeyance + Meteo Mirage – La Maroquinerie 22. Kazu Makino (Blonde Redhead) – Les Étoiles 22. Vixen + Faast – Badaboum 22. Nursery + Casse Gueule + Tout de suite – Cirque électrique ||ANNULÉ|| 22. Drew McDowall – Protocol (Pantin) ||ANNULÉ|| 23. Franck Vigroux & Kurt d’Haeseleer : “The Island (part. 1)” + Cinna Peyghamy (fest. Bruits blancs) – La Muse en circuit (Alfortville) (gratuit sur résa) 23. Trio Sacher + Ensemble intercontemporain (fest. Innovasounds) – Le 104 23. Piloot + Spelterini + Rastrejo + Tachychardie – Espace B 23. Arrington de Dionyso – Le Zorba 23. Billy Childish + Le Villejuif Underground + Petausaure (fest. BBmix) – Carré Bellefeuille (Boulogne-Billancourt) 23. 999999999 + Jawbreakrs + Nico Moreno + Perc + Sentimental Rave + Softcoresoft + Trym + Parfait + UR trax – tba 23. Crystal Distortion + Jeff23 + 69db + Ixindamix – Dehors brut 24. TR/ST + Ela Minus – Le Trianon 24. Mdou Moctar – La Boule noire 24. Midori Takada + Carla dal Forno + Felicia Atkinson (fest. BBmix) – Carré Bellefeuille (Boulogne-Billancourt) 24. The Young Gods + Les Tétines noires – La Machine 25. Unité d’habitation + Geography of Hell + Skin Crime + Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement + Becka Diamond – Le Klub 26. Wardruna – Olympia 27. Poly-Math + Bruit ≤ + Maven – Supersonic (gratuit) 27. The Stranglers – Olympia 27. Silly Joy + Raskolnikov + Jupiter Jane – L’International 27. Le Singe blanc + Double Nelson + Putavelo – Le Cirque électrique 27. The Stranglers + Ruts DC – L’Olympia 27. Hélène Breschand, Tarek Atoui & Cécile Mont-Reynaud : “Pandore” + Ensemble Motus joue Tony Conrad et Elsa Biston (fest. Bruits blancs) – Anis Gras (Arcueil) 28. The Psychotic Monks – Trabendo 28. Artl + Powerdove – Petit Bain 28. OD Bongo + Richard Frances & Konpyuta + Domotic – 100ECS 28. Michel Maurer : “Collection de petites pièces” et “Fragments d’un journal intime” (fest. Mesure pour mesure) – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 28. ABSL + Blush Response + Kuss + Ferdinand Prairie – Rex Club 28. Derek Holzer : “Vector Synthesis” + Cate Hope & Lisa McKinney : “Super Liminum” + Antoine Schmitt & Hortense Gauthier : “CliMax” (fest. Bruits blancs) – Le Cube (gratuit sur résa) ||COMPLET|| 29. Le Syndicat + Entre Vifs – Les Voûtes 29. Balladur + Tôle froide + Poupard – Badaboum 29. Scanner & eRikm + Hélène Breschand + eRikm : “Le Piano englouti” de Brunhild Meyer-Ferrari (fest. Mesure pour mesure) – Nouveau Théâtre de Montreuil 29. Ulrich Krieger : “Raw” + Cellule d’intervention Metamkine (fest. Bruits blancs) – La Muse en circuit (Alfortville) 29. Maoupa Mazzocchetti + Filmmaker + Club Meth + Detective Unit + Jean Redonodo + Shlagga – La Station 30. Mondkopf – Médiathèque musicale de Paris (gratuit) 30. Aidan Baker & BOW Quintet + SEPL (Sulfure fest.) – Le vent se lève 30. Ulrich Krieger + Natacha Muslera + Julien Desprez + Eryck Abecassis + Sylvaine Hélary avec Clyde Chabot, Jean Cagnard, Ismaël Jude, Nathalie Papin et Michel Simonot (fest. Bruits blancs) – Anis Gras (Arcueil) 30. Donato Dozzy + Max Cooper + Terry & Cyan Riley + Ensemble intercontemporain : "Drumming" de Steve Reich + Ensemble Social Silence : "Music for Airport" de Brian Eno + Apollo noir + Récital pour marimbas (Marathon fest.) – La Gaîté lyrique ||COMPLET|| Décembre 01. Motorama – La Maroquinerie 01. Ghedalia Tazartes & Rhys Chatham (Semaine du bizarre) – Théâtre Berthelot (Montreuil) 02. Carambolage + Galère + The Bardogs – Supersonic (gratuit) 03. White Hills – Supersonic (gratuit) 03. Belgrado – Espace B 05. Cent Ans de solitude + Kazehito Seki + Joachim Montessuis – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 06. The Flying Luttenbachers – The University of Chicago Center (gratuit sur résa) 06. Phillip Glass Ensemble : cinéconcert sur "Koyaanisqatsi" de Godfrey Reggio – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 06. dDamage + Arnaud Rebotini (dj) + Mondkopf (dj) + Sister Iodine + Krikor (dj) + White Heat + Dr(dr)one + Grorille (dj) + Panzer (dj) + Paulie Jan + Le Dogue (dj) – La Station 06. Nina Garcia & Maria Bertel + France Sauvage + Somaticae (Semaine du bizarre) – Théâtre Berthelot (Montreuil) 06. Answer Code Request + Regis + Raslan b2b Yoannis – La Seine musicale (Boulogne-Billancourt) 07. Phillip Glass Ensemble : cinéconcert sur "Powaqqatsi" de Godfrey Reggio – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 07. Kokoko! – La Gaîté lyrique 07. I Hate Models – tba 08. Phillip Glass Ensemble : cinéconcert sur "Naqoyqatsi" de Godfrey Reggio – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 08. Mark Lanegan Band + The Membranes – Le Trianon 10. White Bouse + Drone à clochettes + Thomas Zielinski + Thharm + Ex_Pi – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 11. Boris – Le Gibus 11. Kaffe Matthews + Phil Minton, Audrey Chen & Onceim – La Dynamo (Pantin) 12. Mono + Jo Quail – Petit Bain 12. Heldon + Duncan – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 12. Maya Dunietz + Jacques Perconte & Onceim – La Dynamo (Pantin) 12. Bas Mooy + VTSS + Eklpx – Glazart 12. Kompromat (Vitalic & Rebeka Warrior) – La Cigale ||COMPLET|| 13. Contrefaçon – La Gaîté lyrique 13. Regards extrêmes + Lisieux + Ascending divers – Les Voûtes 14. Ludwig Von 88 – Le Trianon 15. The Ex + 75 Dollar Bill – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 17. Thomas Ankersmit + Gaël Segalen – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 18. Amenra – Bataclan 20. Varg + Christoph de Babalon + Les morts vont bien + Powerplant + Fever 103° (fest. Magnétique nord) – La Station 20. Hector Oaks + Nene H + Nur Jaber + Parfait + Pawlowski – tba 21. Youth Avoiders + Chain Cult + Short Days + Bleakness – Espace B 21. A.N.I + Maraudeur + Raymonde + Ece Özel + Accou (fest. Magnétique nord) – La Station 21. Anetha + Introversion + Jacidorex + Parfait + Schake – tba 2020 Janvier 04. Rokia Traoré + Ballaké Cissoko & Vincent Segal – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 11. Last Night + Euromilliard + Kumusta – Gibus 16. Black Midi – Le Carreau du Temple ||COMPLET|| 17. Edith Nylon – Petit Bain 17. Scratch Massive + Lokier + Cassie Raptor + Faast + Kiddo – Badaboum 17. Dafne Vicente-Sandoval + Ji Youn Kang + Thomas Lehn : « Occam VI » d’Eliane Radigue + Tiziana Bertoncini, Antonin Gerbal, David Grubbs, Ji Youn Kang, Thomas Lehn, eRikm & Dafne Vicente-Sandoval : « Et tournent les sons dans la garrigue » de Luc Ferrari – Le 104 18. Lee Ranaldo & Raül Refree – Le 104 18. Franck Vigroux : "Flesh" (Biennale Nemo) – Maison des arts et de la culture (Créteil) 24. Penguin Cafe + Lubomyr Melnyk + Peter Broderick + Anne Müller + Hatis Noit + Janus Rasmussen – La Gaîté lyrique 26. The Fat (cinéconcert pour enfants) – La Gaîté lyrique 29. Rendez-Vous – La Cigale 30. Editors – Salle Pleyel 31. Tindersticks – Salle Pleyel 31. It It Anita + Mss Frnce + Flowers + Angle mort et clignotant + Casse Gueule + La Jungle – Petit Bain Février 02. Sunn o))) – La Gaîté lyrique 09. Explosions in the Sky – La Cigale 10. The Murder Capital – Café de la danse 13. Ride – Le Trianon 16. Orchestral Manoeuvre in the Dark – La Cigale 18. Biliana Voutchkova + Judith Hamann – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 21. Ensemble Links joue "Drumming" de Steve Reich + Cabaret contemporain : "Détroit" + Molécule – Le 104 24. Sleater Kinney – Le Trianon Mars 02. DIIV – La Gaîté lyrique 03. Napalm Death + EYEHATEGOD + Misery Index + Rotten Sound – La Machine 03/04. The Mission – Petit Bain 05. Orange Blossom : “Sharing” avec les machines de François Delarozière – Élysée Montmartre 06. Frustration – Le Trianon 07. Ensemble intercontemporain joue Steve Reich : cinéconcert sur un film de Gerhard Richter – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 07. Alcest + Birds In Row + Kælan Mikla – La Machine 10. Arnaud Rebotini : live pour “Fix Me” d’Alban Richard – Centre des Arts (Enghien-les-Bains) 11. Nada Surf – La Cigale 13. Russian Circle + Torche – Bataclan 17. Chelsea Wolf – La Gaîté lyrique 20. Ensemble Dedalus : "Occam Ocean" d'Éliane Radigue – Le Studio|Philharmonie 21. Front 242 + She Past Away – Élysée Montmartre 21/22. Laurie Anderson : "The Art of Falling" – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 27. Lebanon Hanover – La Gaîté lyrique 27. Maggy Payne : « Crystal » (diff.) + 9T Antiope + John Wiese + Matthias Puech + Nihvak (fest. Présences électronique) – Studio 104|Maison de la Radio 28. Ensemble Links : "Drumming" de Steve Reich + Cabaret contemporain joue Kraftwerk – théâtre de la Cité internationale 28. Iannis Xenakis : « Mycenae Alpha » (diff.) + Marja Ahti + Rashad Becker + Nina Garcia + Kode9 (fest. Présences électronique) – Studio 104|Maison de la Radio 29. Ivo Malec : « Recitativio » + Eve Aboulkheir + Richard Chartier + Lee Gamble + Will Guthrie & Mark Fell (fest. Présences électronique) – Studio 104|Maison de la Radio Avril 03. CocoRosie – Le Trianon 14>17. Metronomy – La Cigale 18. Siglo XX – La Boule noire 27. Caribou – L’Olympia Mai 08. Max Richter : "Infra" + Jlin + Ian William Craig – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 09. Max Richter : "Voices" – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 09. Jonas Gruska + Leila Bordreuil + Jean-Philippe Gross + Kali Malone (fest. Focus) – Le 104 10. Iannis Xenakis : « La Légende d’Eer » + Folke Rabe : « Cyclone » et « What ??? » (fest. Focus) – Le 104 10. Max Richter : "Recomposed" & "Three Worlds" – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 19. Swans + Norman Westberg – Le Trabendo 22. François Bayle : « Le Projet Ouïr » + Marco Parini : « De Parmegiani Sonorum » + Yan Maresz (fest. Akousma) – Studio 104|Maison de la Radio 23. Julien Négrier + Hans Tutschku : « Provenance-émergence » + Félicia Atkinson : « For Georgia O’Keefe » + Warren Burt + Michèle Bokanowski (fest. Akousma) – Studio 104|Maison de la Radio 24. Philippe Mion + Pierre-Yves Macé : « Contre-flux II » + Daniel Teruggi : « Nova Puppis » + Adam Stanovitch + Gilles Racot : « Noir lumière » (fest. Akousma) – Studio 104|Maison de la Radio 23. Damon Albarn – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie 24. Damon Albarn – Salle Pierre Boulez|Philharmonie ||COMPLET|| 26. Minimal Compact – La Machine Juin 14. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Bercy Arena

#agenda concerts #concerts à Paris #gigs in paris #Paris music #paris gigs

[hummingzone]

Dwyane Wade And Gabrielle Union's Mediterranean Vacation Is Giving Me Major FOMO

Dwyane Wade And Gabrielle Union’s Mediterranean Vacation Is Giving Me Major FOMO

I’d follow them on a world tour any day. Edward Berthelot / Getty Images The two are enjoying their 2021 summer by vacationing in the Mediterranean. Or as they like to call it: Wade World Tour 2021. Johnny Nunez / Getty Images for Stance Anyone who has been following the couple for a while knows that a “Wade World Tour” is what the two call their traveling adventures together. Michael Reaves…

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[youngandhungryent]

Dwyane Wade Floats Idea of Starting An OnlyFans Account With Gabrielle Union

Source: Edward Berthelot / Getty

Are we really that interested in what goes down in D-Wade and Gabrielle Union’s bedroom? The retired baller thinks so.

Throughout the pandemic, OnlyFans has been a saving grace for many giving those cooped up and uncontrollably horny some spank material while keeping some adult content creators financially stable during the pandemic. But like any wave, eventually, celebrities have to hop on it using it as a new tool to line up their already fat pockets while trying to connect with fans by sharing risque photos or, in the case of Cardi B share BTS footage of her and Megan Thee Stallion’s hit single “WAP.”

Just recently, for whatever reason, Fat Joe and his buddy DJ Khaled decided to start an OnlyFans account, and now Miami Heat legend shared with his 9.3 million followers on Sunday (Jan.24) that he was trying to convince his wife they should start an account. In the tweet, Wade shared the infamous gif of Senator Bernie Sanders and his mittens looking unbothered but warm and cozy, signifying his lovely wife is not down with that idea.

I’m trying to convince my wife that we should start a only fans account

and she’s looking at me like… pic.twitter.com/t1hPcaHSnW

— DWade (@DwyaneWade) January 24, 2021

D-Wade didn’t hint at what kind of content the couple would be sharing if, in fact, they did create an OnlyFans account but based on the tweet, he wasn’t talking about wholesome content.

Sir… https://t.co/3RLyrtjkgs pic.twitter.com/7ikcvVNRb0

— Gabrielle Union (@itsgabrielleu) January 24, 2021

Wade’s suggestion comes after his lewd birthday post where his privates were strategically blocked by a grinning Union that had his kids wishing they could wipe the moment from their minds and Instagram timelines. But, even though his wife isn’t down, there are definitely some willing to pay to get an uncensored look at the Wade’s love life.

While it looks like it’s not going to happen, crazier things have happened, and we’re not closing the door to the idea of D-Wade and Gabrielle Union OnlyFans account.

—

Photo: Edward Berthelot / Getty

source https://hiphopwired.com/940424/dwyane-wade-gabrielle-union-onlyfans/

#fucu #fucul #young and hungry ent #boss of bosses #instrumental type beat free

[aliatori]

Leap of Faith

The Forsaken and the Forsworn | Post-Fate | Gabriel Berthelot/Hugo Melançon | 3k words | Mature | T4T

Gabriel’s not entirely keen on the idea of leaving the Enclave.

Sure, it ain't the Umbra with the cool comfort of its misty shores, and Watcher knows there’s much and more to do back at The Storm’s Eye, but Gabriel's well and truly charmed by the unique delights of the Sungold. With so few days left before the Squall and Tide are set to get underway on their respective courses, he’s determined to enjoy them.

A waterfall twice as wide as Gabriel is tall roars behind him. Its waters whip to a frothy white as they descend over the crest. The noise fills his head with a pleasant blankness like the rush of blood in his ears in the heat of battle, or the pressure of Xeheia’s holy waters in his ears as he submerges to pray.

There's also more green than his eyes rightly know what to do with all around: moss and lichen draped over every inch of rock jutting up from the clear blue waters, vibrant hues of jungle decorating the sloping peaks of other Trinoran isles on the horizon, and bell-shaped petals the pale hue of fresh sweetmelon draped on flexible branches overhead.

One shade in particular snags his attention at present: the sea-glass green of Hugo’s eyes, sharpened to a fine pique.

“What?” Gabriel spreads his arms wide. Since he’s already divested himself of everything but his focus, the gesture affords Hugo an unimpeded view of his nakedness. “You act like a doddering old man preparing for your own burial at sea, I’m gonna call it like I see it. There was a time you’d’ve beaten me and been down in the water already. Now you’re sittin’ there like a sour headwind.”

A gratifying flush blooms from the vee of Hugo’s lavender vest to the underside of his jaw. Anger, lust, or general vexation—the source of his consternation hasn’t ever mattered to Gabriel, and sure as all seven hells it doesn’t matter now. He just likes that he’s ruffled Hugo’s feathers.

“Let’s say I’ve developed a certain distaste for sailing close to the wind.”

“Let’s say you’re full of shit.” Gabriel ticks points off on his fingers as he lists them. “Fisting a god, stealing ships out from under the noses of merchants, bringing me and the fold to the Enclave in the first place, hells, burning down a whole godsdamned Imperial port—yeah, I know that one was you, don’t look so surprised. Play at even keel all you like, but don’t pass it off as anything but an offering for your secret-eater.”

Hugo puts his hands behind his back. The new definition in his scarred biceps means he must be clenching his fists. Another point in Gabriel’s favour.

“That’s a creative way of calling me a liar. For you, anyway.”

“If I wanted to call you a liar, I’d say it plain. I’m saying it ain’t the whole truth, and you know it, and I’m sick of settling for subterfuge and signal flags from you. We’re past all that.” At Hugo’s flat expression of disbelief, Gabriel laughs without mirth and adds, “As past it as the two of us are ever gonna get.”

Hugo rocks back on his booted heel. A raw wound flashes across his face. There’s a stretch where Gabriel thinks Hugo will find some forthcomingness. But then he looks off into the distance, treating Gabriel to a familiar stoic profile, so whatever notion he’s grappling with only bloodies the waters of this particular argument.

He’s long past the days of chasing after his former captain, and lucky for him, there’s a quick and diverting exit from this conversation he no longer wants to have. He’s three strides from the edge of the waterfall when a coil of familiar metal captures his forearm.

Alright, so maybe he doesn’t chase after Hugo.

But there’s still the fucking riptide of his presence to contend with, drowning any urge to break free. There’s a fissure in Hugo’s expression, a crack in the hull in want of sealing.

“This…” Hugo begins, trailing off, gesturing with his other hand to encompass himself, Gabriel, the cliffs, the seas beyond. “Brings back memories that are difficult. Unpleasant to recall.”

The tempest of Gabriel’s temper builds and breaks on his indignant exhale. “Yeah, you don’t have to remind me of how bleedin’ unpleasant you find the fold. You’ve made it pretty godsdamned clear. So piss off and—”

The rest of his swears vanish in the warmth of Hugo’s lips on his, urgent, insistent, tongue all velvet heat as he delves into Gabriel’s mouth. He kisses like it’s the only apology he knows how to give, or like he’s gasping for air, or like a prayer in a language they still share, and by the time they break apart, Gabriel’s heart rivals the waterfall as it pounds in his ears.

“Not every part of those memories is unpleasant,” Hugo says in a low rasp, grazing his teeth along the stubbled skin fluttering in time with Gabriel’s pulse. He pulls back to fix him with a stare of breathtaking intensity, lips pursed in thought. “Everything worth remembering includes you.”

A mutiny erupts out behind Gabriel’s ribs. It’s as close as Hugo’s gotten to the words he, for whatever gods bedamned reason, talks circles around, the ones involving ‘I’ and ‘love’ and ‘you’ next to each other.

He’ll take it. For now.

Gabriel cradles the back of Hugo’s head in his palm and draws him close until their foreheads touch. “’Course it does. I’m unforgettable, by your own lengthy and colourful admissions. And spectacular. The best captain to sail the Fourfold and veritable holy terror.”

“Second best.”

“I’ll remember that when I’m heaving half the fucking ocean up to save you from getting pincered by a bunch of navy dogs.”

“Perhaps you’d do better to remember why you’re permitted on Enclave shores at all.”

“Well, Jihane and me have taken a shine to each other, so I reckon I’ll be invited back. Especially since it’s the Squall she asked to sail aboard and not the Tide.”

“And I wish you luck in accommodating Jihane and her… exacting standards.”

“Nothing the best captain in the Fourfold can’t handle.”

There—a rebellious twitch of Hugo’s lips, buried beneath the overwrought consternation he strangles it with.

With a snort, Gabriel shoves Hugo’s bare shoulder. “Even second-best captains aren’t afraid of such a tiny risk like some cliff jumping. Besides, I ain’t hearing any alternative propositions for the evening’s entertainment.”

“I have a few.” Hugo looks Gabriel over from head to toe with filthy intent, and while tempting, the beck and call of the sea below raises a different kind of tide in Gabriel.

“Would it kill you to relax for a godsdamned turn and follow my lead?”

One bold eyebrow wings up. “Kill me? Hardly. But it would certainly be a leap of faith.”

Gabriel turns away from Hugo to look over the cliffs and the basin below. It’s a glittering, dizzying drop, enough to make his head spin, but he’s no stranger to a plummet. His blood heats in anticipation.

“Everything’s a leap of faith these days, Captain Melançon, in case it’s escaped your fine weather eye. Comes with being at the beck and call of forces beyond our ken. So why not start here?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gabriel pivots, swallows the ground in two long strides, and launches himself off the cliff's edge, his joyful bellow echoing through the oasis. The freefall snatches his stomach and pins it to the base of his throat. He flips through the air, ass over end, clutching his knees to his chest in the last moments, and then—

He plunges into the sea like a shout, saltwater rushing over the ink of his bondmark and bringing him to a second kind of life. Gabriel exhales as momentum drives him further downward. Xeheia’s presence fills him as he inhales blessed water, a thunderous euphoria joining the mortal delight of a leap off the edge.

For a moment, he’s tempted to drift further down, to commune, to pray. To find where aquamarine becomes sapphire becomes deepest black.

But for now, there are other matters to tend to.

With the orange and pink sunset to guide him, Gabriel orients himself skyward. A series of powerful kicks gets him most of the way to the surface. He breathes out Xeheia’s sustenance, breaches, and inhales the soil-after-rain scent of Enclave air, grinning wide and laughing loudly. The power and majesty of the waterfall impress even more from this angle as he treads the waters disturbed by its arcing flow.

Squinting, Gabriel glances up and sees Hugo leaning over the edge before vanishing beyond it. Figures. It’ll be a decent climb back up the cliff, so he may as well enjoy a swim before he heads back to the uptight son of a bitch.

Instead, he finds himself in a meditative trance as he treads water, lulled into a prayer-like state of calm by the nearby waterfall. Gabriel’s never been this close to one or seen one this large. It’s not the Depths, or the enchanted veins of water laced through the Storm’s Eye, but there’s a holy might to it all the same.

Then a motion from above draws his eye.

There’s no mistaking Hugo’s form—not the ass-naked state of it, nor the elegant twist of his lean limbs as he dives off the cliff into the waters below. Gabriel holds his breath as he watches Hugo soar through the air in a graceful arc, then expels it in jubilation a moment later, whooping and hollering. A blink later, Hugo slips beneath the surface, cutting through the water clean as a knife, vanishing without a sound.

Each passing moment turns Gabriel’s excitement acrid. The bubbling sensation toes the line of fear. His own difficult memory flashes behind his eyelids unbidden: Hugo floating, lifeless and prone, bleeding and blackened.

Before true terror can take hold, Hugo takes hold instead, using the element of surprise to drag him beneath the churning surface of the lake.

The world vanishes in an expanse of crystal blue threaded with green. Gabriel aims a vicious kick in Hugo’s direction, aiming to dislodge his hands from his ankles. Maybe bloody his nose up a bit for the trouble, too. He manages the first goal if not the second. Hugo treads water beside him; orange-gold sunlight from above dapples across his skin, his silver-streaked hair floating in an aura around his head, grin no less fierce for being toothless. He rotates in the water and propels himself upward.

Bold of him to show his scarred back to Gabriel.

He does Hugo a kindness by letting him get a couple good gulps of air in. After all, Gabriel’s rarely interested in an unfair fight, no matter his reputation past and present. Then he glides over, grabs Hugo on either side of his waist, and drags him right back under.

Were it not for the blood-warm waters of the Enclave flooding the spaces between their limbs as they wrestle, it could be a time ten Risings passed. He could be a first mate again, lust-sick, half ready to put a knife to his palm already, insubordinating his way to a dunk in the sea for the joy of Hugo’s attention in Xeheia’s waters.

The present makes itself known in other ways. Hugo, the slippery bastard that he is, lands a punch on Gabriel’s tit with his artifice hand as he shoves away. The pain forces a bubbly stream of Watcher-blessed air from his lips. But the throb of the impending bruise matches the interested one in his dick, which hasn’t changed much at all.

Gabriel gives chase. They collide in slow motion, the powerful currents from the waterfall making the lake harder to move through. He wraps one arm around Hugo’s thighs from below, blocking Hugo’s slow-motion swat with his other elbow. The angle gives him a great view even with all the thrashing: the dark curls between his legs, the scarred muscle of his chest, and the ferocious set of his jaw. He looks away from Gabriel, towards the surface, throat bobbing. His lungs must be burning by now.

Here, another marker of change. Once, there was a time Gabriel would have held him under and watched him drown. (Would have tried, anyway.) Instead, he releases Hugo, content to gloat about his victory when they’re both above water again.

Hugo swims towards him instead.

Strong hands, one metal and one flesh, grip Gabriel’s shoulders, Hugo using him like an anchor to situate himself. Fathoms-deep emotion lurks in the vivid green of his eyes, and there’s Gabriel’s heart again, twisting like a fish out of water. Heat builds low in his belly and coils outward as Hugo weaves himself into Gabriel’s bulk—chest to tits, thigh wedged between his legs against his stirring dick, and of godsdamned course, a hand in his hair, to get him right where he wants him.

Gabriel doesn’t mind. Much.

Not when Hugo places his mouth to Gabriel’s, demanding even as he yields, a moan vibrating through his chest as Gabriel breathes sacred air into his lungs. Hugo drinks him down. His calloused palm charts a course along Gabriel’s neck and collarbone, coming to rest in the valley of his chest, right next to his thundering heart.

It fills Gabriel with uncanny rapture.

His bondmark fills with magic, skin thrilling as his power seeks, quests—

And finds nothing.

It’s gotten easier, these spiritual stumbles, but not easy. Xeheia’s gift proves a storm wind howl, searching for a port, or maybe a shore to destroy.

Gabriel gives it both.

His limbs burst with power, merging and uncoiling into four, six, then eight tentacles. There’s a pain like a good, deep stretch, then a sickening lurch of his stomach, and then finally bliss, Xeheia’s magic coursing through him as rapidly as the nearby waterfall. Hugo pauses their breath sharing to draw back, eyes widening in surprise, then narrowing as Gabriel wraps slick, powerful limbs around each of Hugo’s. His pupils are wide as the dark moon, his teeth digging into his lower lip, and that’s when Gabriel kisses him.

It’s like this they breach the surface, a tangle of arms and legs and tentacles, Hugo held fast in his embrace whether he likes it or not. They’ve drifted to a distant curve of the cliffs around the brackish lake, the roaring waterfall behind them.

Gabriel won’t ever feel Hugo bond-to-bond again, but this—his Xeheia-blessed arms tracing the ghostly scars of his butchered bondmark, coiled against the wet heat of his folds, squeezing the taut muscles in his thighs and calves—is as good a substitute as he’s getting. If he focuses hard enough, Gabriel can almost sense the faint echo of magic, the last shred of Xeheia left in Hugo’s spirit.

He's got other things to focus on, though.

“Quit while you’re ahead and release me, Berthelot,” Hugo says, pitching his voice in that too-familiar way to be heard over the thunderous susurrus.

“Your mouth says one thing, but your cunt says another.” To illustrate his point, Gabriel slides the muscular tentacle between Hugo’s legs back and forth. The slickness there ain’t all him, that’s for godsdamned sure, and Hugo’s strangled gasp only proves his point further. “You know what a white flag looks like. So go on and wave it, then, if you wanna go so bad.”

Consideration weighs down Hugo’s expression. While he’s thinking about whatever vagaries are in the offing, he pinches Gabriel’s nipple hard, rolling it between his fingers afterward.

“You ain’t exactly helping your case, doing that.”

Hugo, being Hugo, does it again, just harder this time. A final limb, barbed and sensitive, begins to unfurl from the slit tucked between Gabriel’s tentacles, swelling along with the heat in his blood.

“And what,” Hugo begins, dipping his head and sinking his teeth into the corded muscle of Gabriel’s shoulder, eliciting a string of curses from him. “What case am I trying to make, exactly?”

“Oh, the usual.” Gabriel’s airy tone belies the strength he uses to grip Hugo’s jaw, heart pounding as he admires the black tips of his limbs curled against Hugo’s neck. “I best you, you refuse to admit I bested you and act the sore loser, we fire some shots across the bow and maybe punch a few earnest holes in the hull, then we both get what we want anyway.”

“Is that right?” Hugo tries to pry Gabriel’s arm away, fingers splayed across the sacred ink spilled there. He’s still got a tentacle or three free, so he lifts one from the water and wraps one coil of sucker-covered muscle around Hugo’s forearms, lacing them tight as his own precious boots. “Seems you’re getting ahead of yourself without a plan. As usual.”

Unbothered, buoyed by pleasantly warm currents, bitten by sharp teeth of lust, Gabriel admires the picture before him: Hugo, arms bound above his head, muscles tense against the restraint of Gabriel’s Xeheia-blessed body, glaring daggers even as his hips grind and roll against limb between his legs.

Gabriel trails his barbed cock along the outside of Hugo’s thigh and curls it around his backside, a quiet moan rumbling in his throat at the resulting shiver of pleasure. Fury darkens Hugo’s features, but the circles along the undersides of new limbs can sense—can taste—the fresh arousal pulsing from his cunt.

“You know me—I learn by doing. So I reckon we’re about to find out together.”

#the forsaken and the forsworn #hubriel #gabriel berthelot #hugo melançon #my writing #I've missed Gab's birthday two years in a row but NOT THIS YEAR #happy birthday to my favourite horrible baby bastard boy #enjoy this reprieve before your suffering begins anew #I'm just emotions about them all the time and especially as equals #it's a double Gab feature today #so I'm making up for lost time

[shop-in-var]

Fête des mères, ce dimanche 7 juin 2020. Retrouvez de quoi finir un bon repas, pour déguster en famille un de nos succulents gâteaux fait avec amour par nos chefs pâtissiers. N'hésitez pas à réserver dans l'un de nos points de vente ci-dessous : Installée dans le sud de la France depuis 1945. Boulanger - Patissier - Chocolatier - Glacier et Restaurant. Les boutiques Maison Sarroche #maisonsarroche Place Puget 11, Rue Berthelot - 83000 Toulon [phone] #maisonsarrochepuget Brasserie Félix 29, Rue d’Alger - 83000 Toulon [phone] #brasseriefelix Le Mourillon 101, Boulevard Bazeilles - 83000 Toulon [phone] #maisonsarrochelemourillon L’esquirole CC La Rotonde - 83220 Le Pradet [phone] #maisonsarrochelesquirole Avenue 83 CC l'Avenue 83 - 83160 La Valette [phone] #maisonsarrocheavenue83 La Garde 6, Av. Gabriel Péri - 83130 La Garde [phone] #maisonsarrochelagarde Le Pouverel 1091, Av. de Lattre de Tassigny - 83130 La Garde [phone] #maisonsarrochelepouverel Carqueiranne 44, Av. Jean-Jaurès - 83320 Carqueiranne [phone] #maisonsarrochecarqueiranne Hyères 1, Av. Aristid Briand - 83400 Hyères [phone] #maisonsarrochehyeres La Capte 2055, Route de Giens - 83400 Hyères [phone] #maisonsarrochelacapte Le Lavandou 13, Av. des Martyrs de la Résistance - 83980 Le Lavandou [phone] #maisonsarrochelelavandou #tvs #toulonvarsud #shopinvar #varmatin #welcomepaca #creditphotomarcelmuller (à Maison Sarroche le Mourillon) https://www.instagram.com/p/CBBnW5_qIu4/?igshid=18oqv8vnwxnc5

#maisonsarroche #maisonsarrochepuget #brasseriefelix #maisonsarrochelemourillon #maisonsarrochelesquirole #maisonsarrocheavenue83 #maisonsarrochelagarde #maisonsarrochelepouverel #maisonsarrochecarqueiranne #maisonsarrochehyeres #maisonsarrochelacapte #maisonsarrochelelavandou #tvs #toulonvarsud #shopinvar #varmatin #welcomepaca #creditphotomarcelmuller

[uneminuteparseconde]

Des concerts à Paris et autour

Septembre 19. Fumo Nero + Chafouin + Siren's Carcass – Cirque électrique 19. Bader Motor – La Station 19. F.L.U. + Uzhur + Extreme Precautions (fest. OFFF) – Mains d'oeuvre (Saint-Ouen) 20. The Brian Jonestown Massacre – La Cigale 20. Jean-Philippe Gross + Franz Hautzinger + Jealousy Party (fest. Crak) – église Saint-Merry 20. Lil Louis + Dopplereffekt + Kiddy Smile (dj) + Clara 3000 + Cerrone (Climax Party) – Wanderlust 20. Trash Knife + Cookies + Urine – La Comedia (Montreuil) 20. Butch Mckoy + Paulie Jan (fest. OFFF) – La Marbrerie (Montreuil) 21. Sheik Anorak + Anna Henriksson – Le Zorba (gratuit) 21. Chris Abrahams + Tarawangsawelas + Low Jack (fest. Crak) – église Saint-Merry 21. Crisis + Plomb – Petit Bain 21. Stratocastors + Thee Maximators + Joujou Jaguar + Princesse Gilbert + Th Da Freak (fest. OFFF) – L'Aérosol 22. Eve Aboulkheir + Prune Bécheau + Jean-Luc Guionnet + Muddersten + Ingar Zach – Cneai (Pantin) 22. On Ceim & Le UN ensemble : "Time Elleipsis" + Le UN ensemble : "Unkino" (fest. Crak) – église Saint-Merry 22. The Wedding Present – Point FMR 22. Atonalist avec Gavin Friday – Petit Bain 22. Gerostenkorp – Scandle 22. Zëro, Virigine Despentes & Béatrice Dalle – Auditorium du théâtre (Chelles) 22. Bajram Bili + Abschaum + Polycool + Grand 8 (fest. Pschit) – Mains d'oeuvre (Saint-Ouen) 22. Paula Temple + LSD + Tommy Four Seven + W.LV.S + Shlomo + Kolde... (Dream Nation fest.) – Docks de Paris (Aubervilliers) 23. Marc Hurtado & Olivier Brisson – Galerie Laurent Gaudin (gratuit) 23. Spiritualized – Cabaret sauvage 23. Sigha + Inigo Kennedy + D. Carbonne + Exal + LGML + Elomak + Greg Rivière + David Some (Dream Nation fest.) – Plage de Glazart 24. Holy Esque + Jaguwar – Supersonic (gratuit) 24. Oneohtrix Point Never (Red Bull Music fest.) – Le 104 26. Bisou de Saddam – Omadis (gratuit) 26. Sleaford Mods + Consumer Electronics – Le Trianon 26. Chassol + Thomas de Pourquery + Flavien Berger + Jacques + Ala.Ni + Quentin Rollet + Gaspar Claus + Jocelyn Mienniel + Low Jack + Lucie Antunes + Christine Ott + Serafina Steer + Ghedalia Tazartes + Mathieu Edward + Mélissa Laveaux (Red Bull Music fest.) – Cabaret sauvage 26. Common Eider, King Eider + Drekka + Inselberg – Olympic café 27. Part Chimp + Spectres + Sextile – La Station 27. Yuzo Koshiro & Motohiro Kawashima + Kode9 & Koji Morimoto + Oklou & Krampf + Teki Latex & DITC + Konx-Om-Pax (Red Bull Music fest.) – Gaîté lyrique 27. Scratch Massive – croisières électroniques 27. Bas Mooy + Ayarcana + Brulée b2b Apothicaire + Mercury 200 + LLY – Glazart 28. Rebeka Warrior + La Chatte + Sexy Sushi + Jardin – La Station 28. La Mverte + Markus Gibb – La Java 28. Terrine + Spoliatûre + Mamiedaragon + Blenno Die Wurstbrücke – Treize 28. Dj Scotch Egg + Takami Nakamoto & Sébastien Benoits + Kyoka Kondo + Aki-Ra Sunrise & Ben Vedren – Centre Pompidou 28. Chosen Few + Dano + Tellurian + Casual Gabberz – Rex Club 28. Zadig + The Driver + Nimä Skill – Le FDP 29. Gaël Segalen + Best Available Technology – Le Zorba (gratuit) 29. Terry Riley & Gyan Riley – La Maroquinerie 29. Aurora Halal + Roberto Succo + Elena Colombi + Jasss + Nihiloxica + Front de cadeaux + Julianna + Oko dj + Miley Serious + Jita Sensation (Red Bull Music fest.) – La Station 29. Bleib Modern – Olympic café 29. Alien Rain + AnD + AWB + Parfait + Speedy J – tba 30. King Dude + Kaelan Mikla + The Dark Red Seed – Petit Bain 30. Eryck Abecassis & Francisco Meirino (fest. Maad in 93) – Instants chavirés (Montreuil)

Octobre 02. The Melvins – L'Alhambra 03. Vanilla Poppers + Pierre & Bastien + Stratocastors – Olympic café 03. Maoupa Mazzocchetti + Opéra mort + Jean Carval – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 04. Jean-Louis Costes + Monte Verita : hommage à Daniel Johnston – Médiathèque musicale de Paris (gratuit) 04. Oiseaux-Tempête, Mondkopf & G. W. Sok + Princess Thailand – Centre Barbara-FGO 04. Ballaké Sissoko & Vincent Segal – La Seine musicale (Boulogne-Billancourt) 05. Sathönay + Bell Lungs – Le Zorba (gratuit) 05. Go!Zilla + Jessica 93 – Petit Bain 05. Clara De Asis + Simon Henocq & Jean-Sébastien Mariage + Farida Amadou, Olivier Benoît & Julien Desprez – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 05. Mokado + Franck Vigroux & Kurt D'Haeseleer : « Centaure » + Konpyuta & Méryll Ampe (Rouxteur fest.) – Mains d'oeuvre (Saint-Ouen) 06. Melik Ohanian : perf. musicale autour de l'expo. d'Abdelkader Benchamma (Nuit blanche) – Collège des Bernardins (gratuit) 06. Nicolas Horvath : nuit Eric Satie + Xavier Veilhan, Chloé & Vassilena Serafimova, Mikhail & Sacha Rudy, Ève Risser, Yannis Kyriakides et Andy Moor : Nuit Studio Venezia + Bryce Dessner : Ymusic (Œuvres d'Andrew Norman, Nico Muhly, Sufjan Stevens, Son Lux, Annie Clark, Gabriel Kahane, Shara Worden...) (Nuit blanche) – Philharmonie (gratuit) 06. Leif + Black Zone Myth Chant + Toma Kami + Marylou + Carlton + MMPP + De Grandi b2b Sunareht + Emma b2b Marcorosso – La Station 06. Infecticide + Christeene + Domina Pizzo + Calling Maria + Angel Karel – Le Dépôt 06. Walter Dean + Monolithe noir + Vernacular + O89 + Stienis & Eqko + Arnaud Laffond & Wael Alkak (Rouxteur fest.) – Mains d'oeuvre (Saint-Ouen) 09. Bérangère Maximin + Brutter + Gosheven (Biennale Nemo) – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 10. Richie Hawtin – Olympia 11. John Carpenter – Salle Pleyel 12/13. Les Négresses vertes – Cabaret sauvage 12. Thorofon + Control + Te/DIS – Les Voûtes 12. Les Ramoneurs de menhir vs SP32 – Gibus 12. The Mugwump + Mourn + Camera + Jessica93 (dj) + France sauvage + Lastrack (dj) + Teki Latex (dj)... – La Station 12. Villejuif Undergournd + Le Réveil des tropiques + Casse Gueule – Théâtre d'Ivry 12. Shifted + Shxcxchcxsh + Antenes + You Should Not Care + JPLD – Concrete 12. Détente + Dear Abra + Françoise Pagan + Peanuts – La Java 12. Hyphen Hyphen (dj) + Arnaud Rebotini + Jennifer Cardini + Rag + Sônge (dj) – L'Olympia 13. Françoiz Breut + David Fenech : hommage à Daniel Johnston – Médiathèque musicale de Paris (gratuit) 13. Low – La Gaîté lyrique 13. En attendant Ana + Duds + Yen Yen + Saint DX...– La Station 13. Aquaserge + Mohamed Lamouri + P.r2b – Théâtre d'Ivry 13. SNTS + Shdw & Obscur Shape + Boston 168 + Under Black Helmet + Airod + Illnurse + Silent-One – tba 15. Lloyd Cole – Théâtre des Bouffes du Nord 15. Nicolas Vérin : "L'Apocalypse de Jean" de Pierre Henry – Athénée 15. The Necks – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 15. Petra Pied de Biche + Thharm + Fiasco – La Comedia (Montreuil) 16. Feromil + In Bear Suits + Seine – tba 17. Blurt – Espace b 17. Mark Morgan + La Race – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 18. Max Cooper – La Gaîté lyrique 19. Tiny Tramp + Forme étrangère + Trottoir – La Pointe Lafayette 20. Les Hôpitaux + Danse avec les Shlags – Le Zorba (gratuit) 20. Tallinn Chamber Orchestra : Fratres, Cantus in memoriam Benjamin Britten, Adam's Lament, Salve Regina et Te Deum d'Arvo Pärt – Salle Pierre-Boulez|Philharmonie 20. Les Tétines noires + Dear Deer – Petit Bain 22. Dead Meadow – Petit Bain 24. Motorama – Petit Bain 25. Marissa Nadler – Point FMR 25. Fews – Olympic café 25. Cat Power – Trianon 25. Die Selektion + Structures – Petit Bain 26. Jon Hopkins – Trianon 27. Killing Joke – Cabaret sauvage 27. CAR + Sentimental Rave – Petit Bain 27. Silent Front + Le Mal des ardents + La Coupure – tba 27. CJ Bolland + 999999999 + 747 + Jibis + JKS b2b Mayeul + Jaquarius – La Machine 30. David Eugene Edwards & Alexander Hacke – La Maroquinerie 30. Mariachi & Maria Bertel + Rafael Toral – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 31. Acid Mothers Temple + Bambara (Le Beau fest. off) – Glazart 31. Thierry Balasse joue Pierre Henry – La Gaîté lyrique 31. Terrine + Regalec + Victime – La Pointe Lafayette 31. Marie Davidson + Oktober Lieber – Petit Bain 31. Phill Niblock & Thierry Madiot + Trio Grands Lacs – Instants chavirés (Montreuil)

Novembre 01. Elysian Fields – La Maroquinerie 01. Casual Hex + Hyäne – La Pointe Lafayette 01. John Maus + Mac DeMarco + The Voidz + Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever + Étienne Daho... (Pitchfork Music fest.) – Grande Halle de La Villette 02. [Fever Ray : ANNULÉ] + Blood Orange + Chvrches + Chromeo + Bagarre + Car Seat Headrest + Dream Wife + Lewis OfMan + Boy Pablo + Kaytranada... (Pitchfork Music fest.) – Grande Halle de La Villette 03. Bon Iver + dj Koze + Jeremy Underground + Stephan Malkmus & The Jicks + Unknow Mortal Orchestra + Avalon Emerson + Snail Mail + Daniel Avery + Muddy Monk... (Pitchfork Music fest.) – Grande Halle de La Villette 02. Emma Ruth Rundle – Petit Bain 04. Peaches Christ Superstar – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 04. Deena Abdelwahed – Concrete 05. Colin Stetson – Café de la danse 05. Echo & The Bunnymen – Bataclan 05. David Byrne – Zénith 06. Soft Kill – Olympic café 06. Agnostic Front + Fishing With Guns + Blackened – Gibus 08. Cold Cave – Petit Bain 09. Le Syndicat – Centre d'animation Vercingétorix 09. Rendez-Vous + Prurient + Silent Servant + Poison Point + Crave + Low Jack b2b Moyo + Clara 3000 & Coni – La Machine 09>11. Baba Commandant & The Mandigo Band + Senyawa + Brothers Unconnected (Alan & Richard Bishop) + Porest Group + King Gong + Robert Millis & Jesse Paul Miller – théâtre Berthelot (Montreuil) 13. Hot Snakes – Point FMR 13. MellaNoisEscape + Puts Mary – Petit Bain 13. Sophie Agnel, Joke Lanz & Michael Vatcher – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 14. Peter Murphy & David J jouent "In the Flat Fields" – Bataclan 15. Méryll Ampe + Emmanuelle Bouyer + Anne Flore Cabanis + Matthieu Crimersmois + Frédéric Mathevet + Colin Roche + Anton Mobin... (Extended Score #2) – Le Cube (Issy-lès-Moulineaux) 16. Parquet Courts – Elysées Montmartre 16. Noir Boy George + Officine – Instants chavirés (Montreuil) 17. The Damned – Elysées Montmartre 18. Ensemble Links : « Drumming » de Steve Reich – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 21. The Breeders – Le Trianon 21. Lydia Lunch & Ian White – Espace B 22. Scout Niblett – Petit Bain 22. Serge Teyssot-Gay, Christian Vialard & Éric Arlix : Hypogé – Le Cube (Issy-lès-Moulineaux) 23. Michael Nyman : "War Work: 8 Songs with Film" – Salle Pleyel 23. Ennio Morricone – Bercy Arena 23. Kollaps + Trepaneringsritualen + Verset Zero – Gibus 23. Saravah revisité (Areski, The Recyclers, Arlt, Bojan Flames...) + Hyperculte + Waltraud Blischke (dj) (BBmix fest.) – Carré Bellefeuille (Boulogne-Billancourt) 24. Endless Boogie + Pan American + Facs + Von Limb + Waltraud Blischke (dj) (BBmix fest.) – Carré Bellefeuille (Boulogne-Billancourt) 24. Frustration + Twin Arrows – Rack'am (Brétigny/Orge) 25. Satan + Kill + Necrodancer – Espace B 25. Evan Crankshaw & The Dead Mauriacs + The Mauskovic Dance Band + Waltraud Blischke (dj) (BBmix fest.) – Carré Bellefeuille (Boulogne-Billancourt) 27. Mudhoney – Trabendo 27. Etienne Jaumet – New Morning 28. Andy Moor & Anne-James Chaton – Cité de l'architecture (gratuit) 28. Adult. – Petit Bain 29. Interpol – Salle Pleyel 29. Esben & The Witch – Point FMR 29. CHDH + Mariachi + Lårs Akerlund + Sten Backman (fest. Bruits blancs) – Le Cube (Issy-lès-Moulineaux)

Décembre 01. Deux boules vanille (fest. Marathon!) – La Gaîté lyrique 02. Beak> – Café de la danse 03. Idles + John – Bataclan 05. Julia Holter – Petit Bain 05. Sudden Infant + Massicot – Centre culturel suisse 06. La Tène avec Jacques Puech, Louis Jacques, Guilhem Lacroux & Jérémie Sauvage – Centre culturel suisse 06. The KVB + M!R!M – Badaboum 07. Antoine Chessex + Nina Garcia + Francisco Meirino – Centre culturel suisse 08. Père Ubu – Théâtre Berthelot (Montreuil) 08. The Horrorist + Federico Amoroso – L'Officine 09/10. Moriarty – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 12. Nova Materia – La Maroquinerie 14. New Model Army – Trabendo 14. Hangman's Chair + Jessica93 + Revok – Les Cuizines (Chelles) 15. Gaspar Claus – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 18. Drab Majesty – Point FMR

2019

Janvier 22. Emmanuelle Parrenin & Dominique Regref – La Ferme du Buisson (Noisiel) 26. Chloé – Elysée-Montmartre

Février 02. The Residents – Gaîté lyrique 06. Brendan Perry – Petit Bain 07. VNV Nation – Le Trabendo 22. Nils Frahm – Le Trianon

Mars 20. Oomph! – La Machine 29. Perturbator – Le Trianon

Avril 14. Arnaud Rebotini joue la BO de "120 Battements par minute" – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie 27. She Past Away – La Machine 27. Chloé : Lumières noires – Le 104

Mai 10/11. Dead Can Dance – Grand Rex 17. Philip Glass : Études pour piano – Salle Pierre-Boulez|Philharmonie 18. Bruce Brubaker & Max Cooper : Glasstronica – Cité de la musique|Philharmonie

Juin 26. Magma – Salle Pierre-Boulez|Philharmonie

Septembre 13. Rammstein – La Défense Arena (Nanterre)

en gras : les derniers ajouts / in bold: the last news

#agenda concerts #concerts à Paris #Paris music #gigs in paris #paris gigs

[bblsc]

La lutte pour un logement abordable toujours actuelle

SOCIAL. Dans son livre Lutter pour un toit, l’auteur engagé François Saillant fait le récit de douze luttes sur le logement qui se sont déroulées au Québec de l’après-guerre jusqu’à aujourd’hui.  Le logement abordable est un combat qui n’a pas cessé, à Québec comme ailleurs. Deux de ces batailles ont eu lieu dans le quartier Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Québec, le premier à la fin des années 1970 et le second dans la décennie 2000.

Porte-parole du FRAPRU (Front d’action populaire en réaménagement urbain), François Saillant est à la retraite depuis 2016, ce qui lui a permis de prendre du recul sur les événements. Il a alors pu concrétiser le projet d’écriture des luttes qui lui tiennent à cœur.

«J’ai voulu illustrer une variété de problématiques. Soit ce sont des luttes qui ont marqué leur époque, soit elles revêtent un aspect exemplaire, ou encore elles témoignent d’un projet d’envergure», indique l’auteur.

L’ex porte-parole du FRAPRU croit que les défis sont multiples, encore aujourd’hui. La gentrification des quartiers populaires est un danger réel pour les personnes qui vivent dans des logements abordables. Les hausses de loyer, la diminution de la qualité de vie y sont des conséquences directes. La croissance de la location d’appartements aux touristes (Airbnb) est aussi un enjeu qui risque de dénaturer les quartiers et diminuer l’offre locative.

Pour le militant, la question du logement social ou abordable, que ce soit par les coopératives d’habitation ou par des logements à loyer modéré, doivent échapper à la logique du profit. «Si les autorités se constituent une réserve suffisante de bâtiments réservés au logement social, c’est un filet de sécurité.  Transformer des logements existants en coopérative d’habitation pourrait être une solution. L’ancienne boucherie Bégin [une bâtisse à l’abandon qui aurait dû être démolie en mars dernier pour faire place à des condos], sur la rue Saint-Jean, est un endroit où on pourrait faire du logement social, par exemple», suggère M. Saillant.

À cause de la gentrification des quartiers centraux populaires, les résidents peuvent subir une hausse des loyers.

Personne à l’abri

«La classe moyenne, souvent propriétaire, a tendance à croire que les problèmes de logements sont ceux des autres, donc, pourquoi payer? Je crois qu’ils ont tort. Personne n’est à l’abri de problèmes financiers, d’un divorce, d’une séparation, d’un problème de santé majeur. Le logement abordable est une protection dont tout le monde pourra éventuellement jouir, conclut M. Saillant.

Un pan historique important

Dans son chapitre Saint-Gabriel de force, François Saillant raconte qu’en 1978, le quartier Saint-Jean-Baptiste, à Québec, est le théâtre de plusieurs luttes dont celles contre la démolition de la rue Saint-Gabriel, une opération d’envergure qui visait la démolition de nombreux logements par l’administration municipale.

C’est finalement grâce à l’intervention du ministre fédéral des Travaux public, André Ouellet, qu’une coopérative d’habitation a pu voir le jour.

De la même façon, l’auteur raconte  comment la population du quartier Saint-Jean Baptiste s’est battue contre la démolition de l’îlot Berthelot et va même jusqu’à l’occuper dans le contexte contestataire de l’Après Sommet des Amériques en 2002. Après des mois de lutte, un projet de coopérative d’habitation y est finalement né.

Ces deux événements ont été abondamment relayés par les médias de l’époque et ont fortement marqué l’histoire du Centre-ville et sa population.

Encore aujourd’hui, les problèmes de logement font souvent les manchettes. Citons il y a quelques semaines un combat entre la Ville et un propriétaire qui négligeait l’entretien et la salubrité de son bloc du quartier Vanier, laissant ses occupants dans de mauvaises conditions d’hygiène. La Ville a finalement pu forcer le propriétaire à faire des travaux de réfection.

En 1978, la population du quartier s’était fortement mobilisée pour conserver son droit à un toit.

[Read More ...]

#La lutte pour un logement abordable toujours actuelle

[derekglieber]

La lutte pour un logement abordable toujours actuelle

SOCIAL. Dans son livre Lutter pour un toit, l’auteur engagé François Saillant fait le récit de douze luttes sur le logement qui se sont déroulées au Québec de l’après-guerre jusqu’à aujourd’hui.  Le logement abordable est un combat qui n’a pas cessé, à Québec comme ailleurs. Deux de ces batailles ont eu lieu dans le quartier Saint-Jean-Baptiste de Québec, le premier à la fin des années 1970 et le second dans la décennie 2000.

Porte-parole du FRAPRU (Front d’action populaire en réaménagement urbain), François Saillant est à la retraite depuis 2016, ce qui lui a permis de prendre du recul sur les événements. Il a alors pu concrétiser le projet d’écriture des luttes qui lui tiennent à cœur.

«J’ai voulu illustrer une variété de problématiques. Soit ce sont des luttes qui ont marqué leur époque, soit elles revêtent un aspect exemplaire, ou encore elles témoignent d’un projet d’envergure», indique l’auteur.

L’ex porte-parole du FRAPRU croit que les défis sont multiples, encore aujourd’hui. La gentrification des quartiers populaires est un danger réel pour les personnes qui vivent dans des logements abordables. Les hausses de loyer, la diminution de la qualité de vie y sont des conséquences directes. La croissance de la location d’appartements aux touristes (Airbnb) est aussi un enjeu qui risque de dénaturer les quartiers et diminuer l’offre locative.

Pour le militant, la question du logement social ou abordable, que ce soit par les coopératives d’habitation ou par des logements à loyer modéré, doivent échapper à la logique du profit. «Si les autorités se constituent une réserve suffisante de bâtiments réservés au logement social, c’est un filet de sécurité.  Transformer des logements existants en coopérative d’habitation pourrait être une solution. L’ancienne boucherie Bégin [une bâtisse à l’abandon qui aurait dû être démolie en mars dernier pour faire place à des condos], sur la rue Saint-Jean, est un endroit où on pourrait faire du logement social, par exemple», suggère M. Saillant.

À cause de la gentrification des quartiers centraux populaires, les résidents peuvent subir une hausse des loyers.

Personne à l’abri

«La classe moyenne, souvent propriétaire, a tendance à croire que les problèmes de logements sont ceux des autres, donc, pourquoi payer? Je crois qu’ils ont tort. Personne n’est à l’abri de problèmes financiers, d’un divorce, d’une séparation, d’un problème de santé majeur. Le logement abordable est une protection dont tout le monde pourra éventuellement jouir, conclut M. Saillant.

Un pan historique important

Dans son chapitre Saint-Gabriel de force, François Saillant raconte qu’en 1978, le quartier Saint-Jean-Baptiste, à Québec, est le théâtre de plusieurs luttes dont celles contre la démolition de la rue Saint-Gabriel, une opération d’envergure qui visait la démolition de nombreux logements par l’administration municipale.

C’est finalement grâce à l’intervention du ministre fédéral des Travaux public, André Ouellet, qu’une coopérative d’habitation a pu voir le jour.

De la même façon, l’auteur raconte  comment la population du quartier Saint-Jean Baptiste s’est battue contre la démolition de l’îlot Berthelot et va même jusqu’à l’occuper dans le contexte contestataire de l’Après Sommet des Amériques en 2002. Après des mois de lutte, un projet de coopérative d’habitation y est finalement né.

Ces deux événements ont été abondamment relayés par les médias de l’époque et ont fortement marqué l’histoire du Centre-ville et sa population.

Encore aujourd’hui, les problèmes de logement font souvent les manchettes. Citons il y a quelques semaines un combat entre la Ville et un propriétaire qui négligeait l’entretien et la salubrité de son bloc du quartier Vanier, laissant ses occupants dans de mauvaises conditions d’hygiène. La Ville a finalement pu forcer le propriétaire à faire des travaux de réfection.

En 1978, la population du quartier s’était fortement mobilisée pour conserver son droit à un toit.

[Read More ...]

#La lutte pour un logement abordable toujours actuelle

[liodain]

Hello, I hope you're having a good day! For the WIP game, could I see the 'holywater' art please? I am very intrigued! 👀✨ (also, I don't mean to be greedy, but are multiple asks allowed?) (PS. Love all your work!!) 😊💖

Hi!! Thank you for tagging me and for the ask!! ofc go ham, it might be the only way some of this sees the light of day 😂

holywater is a trans Hubriel sketch I did for the eternally patient @aliatori for their birthday, and hope to have finished before his next one lol. I'm putting it below the jump because there's frontal nudity, but I don't feel like censoring it with tumblrs current.... everything

#the forsaken and the forsworn #gabriel berthelot #hugo melançon #hubriel #my art #pirates