#ferme ta gueule

[male-spirit]

[locklaicy]

avec toute mon amabilité

[interludebloom]

les mecs juste ils supportent pas qu'une meuf les remette à leur place ou leur disent qu'ils ont tort??????

[girafeduvexin]

Vraiment, Plantu qui accuse Mélenchon d'être antisémite, ça me reste en travers de la gorge, vous avez déjà vu comment Plantu dessinait des personnalités juives ?

Des caricatures des années 30 !

Et sans parler de la façon dont ils dessinent les Japonais :

Et ses centaines de dessins ultra islamophobes, y en a trop pour les mettre ici, vraiment Plantu :

Pardon, j'ai déjà dit que j'aimais pas Mélenchon, mais ce dessin, il est vraiment honteux.

On a l'habitude avec Plantu hein mais wah, hardcore vraiment.

[evilfloralfoolery]

Love Bites - Part 2

Like the title says. ;)

**Also, make sure you realize that werewolves and vampires are creatures that feast on blood and flesh. If this type of thing bothers you, this fic is not for you. There's going to be blood. Curate your internet experience accordingly.

Please see the end of the fic for translations and such fuckery.

Enjoy!

____________________________

Like himself, Marrok is a creature of the night, so there is no surprise in Lucian when he awakens at dusk to find the werewolf still sleeping beside him.  Not that Lucian himself truly “slept.”  The slumber of a vampire was more of a deep, meditative void.  He had gone weeks without “sleeping.”  Now, it was a sort of indulgence to lie beside his lover, who did still require rest.  

At least it had been as such, until this vile misfortune had been foisted upon him. Now, resting was a necessity until the wretched foolishness of his body had healed itself.  Exactly when that might be, he did not know.

Marrok grumbles in his sleep and rolls onto his side, one arm flopping across Lucian’s body.  Whether it is the werewolf’s need for “pack behavior” or a true desire to be close does not matter.  Lucian takes the opportunity just the same.  

He curls against Marrok’s bare chest, lulled by the steady, pulsing rhythm of his heart.  That is, until his own body decides upon retribution.  Always at the most insufferable and inconvenient of times.

There is no time to grope for his handkerchief, no time to pull away. Instead, he must contend with the indecency of steepling his hands over his nose and mouth, muffling a poorly constrained “--nnkgSSCHuh!” into their confines. 

The slumbering cadence of Marrok’s breathing stops.

“Je suis désolée, mon cher,” Lucian says from behind the cover of his hands. “I am stihh–still—-hhhuuhIKGSSSCH-U! Ugh, mon dieu.”

Marrok chuckles. “Hmn, I’d ask if you’re dying, but–”

“Ferme ta gueule,” Lucian says, which only earns him a louder, much more pointed laugh.

“Make me.”  Marrok grabs Lucian’s wrists, tugging his hands away from his face.  “And quit it with the hands.” 

Lucian huffs. “Would you rather I show such indecency to your bare chest, then?”

“Yeah,” Marrok says.  “I would.” 

Rough, calloused palms cup his face and Marrok kisses him with such passionate vigor that Lucian moans against his mouth.  Purely involuntary, of course. 

“I’d like to fuck the starlight out of you right now.”  Marrok runs his tongue over Lucian’s bottom lip.  “But I’ve got wolf shit to do.”

“Do you?”  Lucian’s hand wanders between the werewolf’s legs, nails scraping his inner thigh.  “What sorrow for you.” 

“Goddamn it.” Chills march up Marrok’s arm and it is now Lucian’s turn to chuckle. 

“You began this.  The fault is yours.” 

In the distance, a chorus of howls too vocally eerie to be mere wolves escalates and Marrok grumbles.  “They’re doing stupid shit.  I gotta go.” 

Lucian withdraws his hand and sits up with a pointed sniffle. “I will try not to be too unwell in your absence.” 

Marrok rolls his eyes.  “Whatever. I’m going to go kill something.” 

One golden eyebrow arches. “Something or someone?”

“Does it matter?” Marrok crosses the distance back to the balcony and hops onto the ornate rail. 

“It does, if one has taste.” 

Marrok makes a show of extending both middle fingers. “Taste this.” 

He vaults over the side of the balcony and lands somewhere in the courtyard, disappearing into the underbrush before Lucian can track his movements.

_______________________________

By the time Marrok returns, darkness has fallen to the fullest extent, the air heavy with the scent of night blooming jasmine and fresh oleander.  

And the metallic sweetness of fresh blood. 

“I take it your hunt was successful.” Lucian files the edges of one nail into a fastidious point and sits back to admire the shape for a moment. 

“Yes.” 

One side of Marrok's face is coated in slick, glistening crimson, brutal to some, but alluring to the vampire.  How fortunate was he to have such a magnificent creature to indulge and woo. 

Upon noticing Lucian’s amorous stare, the werewolf tilts his head with a smirk. “You like what you see?” 

“Oui. J'adore votre folie.” Lucian sets the file down and rises to his feet. “Now, kiss me while the taste of life is still fresh upon your lips.”

“Mmn, that's hot,”  Marrok says. 

And he complies readily. Eagerly. While there are plenty of deer and other prey in the nearby woods, tonight's feast has been human. Lucian can taste it, can see the flicker of images within his lover's mind. 

A man with intent to do far more than follow a young woman home. Another with an abhorrent collection of photos from those who did not give consent. 

But of course. Beneath the simmering rage and bluster lurked a vigilante dressed in fur and fangs. Not that Marrok would ever admit to such a thing. 

Just as Lucian was loath to admit the stupidity that had caused his current condition.  While Marrok's accusations had been false for the most part, Lucian had placated him the falsehood of ignorance when questioned about how he had managed to become so suddenly ill.

Lucian was more than aware of how it had come to pass.  Despite popular folklore, sunlight would not destroy him. Too much exposure to it would, however, prove to be terrible for his well being. Hunting during the day was not his preference, but at times, nature proved to be stronger than common sense. 

And speaking of such things, his sinuses saw fit to remind him of his idiocy several times an hour. Obviously, he is now somehow overdue. 

He places a hand upon Marrok's bare chest to indicate his need for distance. “Ah, pardon. I am-hhhuuh!” He fights the urge for all of three seconds before managing to tug his handkerchief free of his sleeve, where he had tucked it away for easy access. “IHSSSCHu! Hhhhhiiiih-hhh-uuh. . . ! HhhISSSCCH–UUH!’  The hand switches to light upon his own chest, as if he must do so to catch his breath. “Mon dieu! My apologies.”

“Huh.” Marrok studies him with a furrowed brow. “You really are sick.” 

“Why such surprise? I told you as much myself.” Lucian muffles another wrenching sneeze into the folds of the cloth. “I have abused many handkerchiefs while you were away.”

“Oh yeah?” Darkness swallows the yellow of Marrok's eyes until only a slight ring remains. “How many?”

“More than you have fingers, mon cher.”

“Fuuuck,” Marrok says with such soft, vehement feeling that Lucian chuckles.  

He does not, however, return his lips to their previous plundering. Instead, he buries his face in Lucian's mess of golden waves and inhales the scent of him like he is somehow drawing sustenance from it. 

“You haven't fed.” Marrok’s voice is almost tender for a moment before it is replaced with his signature sass. “You want some of this?” He gestures to himself with a saucy grin. 

“You have spent much time hunting,” Lucian says. “No harm will come to me if I do not. . . “ His words trail into nothingness, for Marrok has dragged his nail over his wrist, slicing the sun-bronzed skin just enough for a thin rivulet of blood to drip from his fingers. 

“Come on.” Marrok runs his tongue up the side of his hand, his lips wet with a vermillion shine. “You know I taste good.” 

Lucian rakes a hand through hair with a huff. “Putain de merde.” 

That gets a raucous laugh from Marrok, who soon finds himself pinned to the wall, an arm across his throat and fingers twisted into that unruly mane that has the audacity to call itself “hair.” 

“You want my neck instead? Do you, Lucian?” He tilts his head to one side in invitation. “Do it.” 

Marrok's heartbeat calls to him, a slow and steady throb without fear or dread. 

All restraint is lost.

Lucian sinks his fangs into the flesh, the hot pulse of life rushing over his tongue, filling his senses and reviving him like no mortal blood can manage.  Marrok tastes of savage magic, of wildness and defiance, as rich as the finest indulgence and bolder than any wine could ever muster.

He takes only enough to bring warmth to his skin and quell the odd chill that seems to have settled deep within his bones somehow. 

But Marrok does not move away. 

“You didn't take much.”

“It was enough.” 

“It wasn’t enough.” 

Already, the small punctures on Marrok's throat have begun to heal, a true testament to his preternatural nature. 

Lucian doesn't bother to wipe the blood from his lips or address the fact that it has left a wet trail down his chest.  Instead, he slips the few remaining buttons away from their holes and allows the shirt to slide from his shoulders and onto the ground. The way Marrok’s gaze follows his every move is more than appreciative, it is predatory.  Hungry for a different manner of satiation. 

“Is there something that you desire to taste?” Lucian glances over his shoulder, strands of his flaxen hair adhered to his cheek by Marrok’s own essence.  “Something you wish to devour?”

Marrok snorts.  “Fuck you.”

But the words are a teasing retort and not the anger that had so fiercely gripped him earlier. 

Marrok stalks him like prey, his stare steady and penetrating, head lowered, breathing deep and controlled. Before he can pin Lucian to the bed, the vampire is suddenly behind him, an arm around his throat in a reverse strangle hold. 

“Since you have such concern for my well being, mon amour, I will satisfy your curiosities.”  He hefts the much larger, snarling werewolf into his arms, as if he is a mere wisp of a being and tosses him onto the bed where he lands with a most ungraceful thud. 

It is Lucian who does the holding now, pinning Marrok's shoulders to the bed sheets.

“Ah, je suis désolée.” Lucian chuckles with dark repose as he runs a finger down Marrok's nose, pausing to tap the tip. “Did you want to be on top?”

To his rather sadistic amusement, Marrok does not struggle, choosing instead to lace his fingers behind his head and stretch beneath Lucian's body. 

“Nah,” Marrok says with a smirk. “I'll just chill here and let you please me.”  

He does, however, fist a handful of Lucian's blood-and-flaxen waves, jerking his head to one side. “Don't bite my dick.” 

Lucian laughs with such improper lunacy that the birds perched on the balcony railing scatter into the night sky. 

_____________________

TBC . . . .

Mon dieu - My god Oui. J'adore votre folie - Yes. I adore your madness Mon cher - My dear/My darling Ferme ta gueule- Shut your mouth Putain de merde - Fucking hell (or what the fuck, in other contexts) Mon amour - My love Je suis désolée - I am sorry

[je-suis-ronflex]

Comme je sais que je ne reviens pas à la rentrée dans le lycée où je suis et que j'en ai clairement plein le cul de bosser là-bas, je suis complètement en roue libre : 1) l'autre jour j'ai hurlé "ferme ta gueule" à une prof en plein milieu du hall

2) ce matin le proviseur adjoint (qui est detestable à souhait) arrive en vie scolaire et nous dit qu'une épreuve de bac aura lieu dans une salle en face de la vie scolaire et je demande quelle épreuve et c'est pas le mec il me rep "ça change quoi pour vous ?" ?????? mais déjà on va se calmer et mieux parler genre pour orienter les élèves en cas de besoin c'est bien de savoir ce qu'il se passe au lycée d'autant plus que l'on accueille des élèves d'autres bahuts pour qu'ils passent leurs épreuves, et c'est pas mes collègues qui commencent à réagir en mode le proviseur adjoint il m'a trop clashé mdr le toupet des gens bref du coup ça me saoule je commence à partir et c'est pas le proviseur adjoint qui commence à m'expliquer SAUF QUE comme je suis saoulé je lui ai sorti "je vous coupe mais vous pouvez arrêter de me parler, vous ne m'intéressez plus" puis je suis parti comme une diva mdr il me reste 19 jours de travail si je ne me fais pas virer je comprends pas

[yurizzsblog]

French Insults:

Mild Insults

C'est nul - That's lame

Used to express that something is worthless or bad.

T'es chiant(e) - You're annoying

"Chiant" literally means "shitty," but is used to describe someone who is being a nuisance.

T'es con(ne) - You're stupid

"Con" is a common, though vulgar, way to call someone stupid or foolish.

Stronger Insults

Espèce d'idiot(e) - You idiot

Used to call someone an idiot or fool.

Casse-toi - Get lost

A blunt way to tell someone to go away.

Ferme ta gueule - Shut your mouth

Very rude way to tell someone to be quiet. "Gueule" is a vulgar term for mouth.

Tête de nœud - Knucklehead

Insult implying someone is dumb, literally "knot head."

Bouffon - Clown

Used to call someone a fool or idiot.

Connard/Connasse - Jerk/Bitch

Strong insults used to call someone a jerk (male/female).

Insult Phrases

Va te faire foutre - Go screw yourself

Very vulgar way to tell someone off.

Fils de pute - Son of a bitch

Extremely offensive insult.

Ta mère - Your mother

Similar to "Yo mama" jokes, often used to insult someone indirectly.

Insulting Someone's Intelligence

T'es vraiment un abruti - You're really a moron

"Abruti" is a strong term for someone very stupid.

C'est du grand n'importe quoi - That's complete nonsense

Used to describe something utterly senseless.

Espèce de crétin(e) - You moron

"Crétin" is another term for a very foolish person.

Insulting Someone's Behavior

T'es qu'un lâche - You're nothing but a coward

Used to call someone a coward.

T'es qu'une petite merde - You're just a little shit

Very derogatory term implying someone is worthless.

Quel trou du cul - What an asshole

Strong insult directed at someone being very unpleasant.

[orangerosebush]

Butler and Minerva's friendship is so funny, in that Minerva went from having a teenaged crush on Artemis to being like, "<3 Raising awareness about the sick & TWISTED elder abuse being wrought by Ireland's most annoying INTJ*** on D. Butler's sweet and sensitive soul".

***(Minerva briefly becomes interested in MBTI as a substitute for social analysis before receiving an adulthood autism diagnosis. The interest is, indeed, grating.)

These lyrics from The Front Bottoms are effectively what Butler crankily receives in his phone after Minerva (rightfully) tells him he was fucking insane for opting in on the Mars Mission instead of simply telling Artemis to cool it with this recent quarter-life/new clone body crisis

[ouvrierhv]

tu ferme ta gueule et tu attend les ordres

[yyoshiaa]

Just behind you [part 1]

When I drew Spy I made the same facial expression Ridiculous anyway but I’m really proud of this drawing

Imagine Scout speaks with Sniper about his dad

Spy panic !!!

[ferme ta gueule = shut up]

but I’m really sure Sniper knows and keeps the secret. This create a real funny situation like this

[tosteur-gluteal]

"Myah ~"

"FERME TA GUEULE TOSTEUR!!!!!"

[letuce369]

ferme ta gueule

[tche-rien]

Comment te dire, Valérie ? Phonétiquement, BOUSEUX, en chinois, se traduit par FERME TA GUEULE !

Ton slogan c'était le courage de faire ! Vas-y aux chiottes, pose la ta crotte, ça t'évitera les diarrhées verbales !

En attendant, tu sais où tu peux te la carrer ta pleutrerie dégoulinante de petite chienne de garde du système en place de parti unique illégitime, depuis trop longtemps? Il se trouve, KOKONE, que voter la censure est au contraire le seul acte de courage politique à faire maintenant pour provoquer la NÉCESSAIRE AMPUTATION. La MALADIE NÉCROSANTE c’est Macron et ses complices. Maintenir ce P* de gouvernement Barnier c’est prolonger cette MALADIE NÉCROSANTE. Il n’y a aucune hésitation : Il faut amputer dans le vif, opérer la tumeur. Ce gouvernement n’est que GOUBERNEMENT, et TOUT GOUVERNEMENT SANS ÉLECTIONS doit être systématiquement CENSURÉ. Encore et encore Jusqu’à ce que la charogne, l’escroc démissionne ! Le cancer institutionnel et politique c’est MACROLÉON. Cet EMPOUVOIRÉ est une forfaiture, une perfidie permanente, un tripotage, la félonie métastasée qui a DISSIMULÉ l’état catastrophique des finances, en vue des élections européennes et législative, car sans ces traîtrises, une autre majorité bien nette serait là ! MACRON est l’organisateur de la dissimulation et du mensonge et donc responsable… IL DOIT DÉMISSIONNER ET ÊTRE TRADUIT EN JUSTICE.

[the-hunted]

i bit vil

Tête de noeud, ferme ta gueule !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Non, how dare you do such a thing to my beautiful Vil.... Check your windows tonight ♡♡♡

[repulsiveliquidation]

"You don't want to see a team win like this, red card and a penalty" STFU OMG ACTUALLY FERME TA GUEULE gosh I see a vein popping up on my forehead ffs

NOT THE FRENCH 😭😭😭

but yeah we know who she’s rooting for and someone needs to get her out of there cause they’re shite

[papillondusublime]

Ah! Te dirai-je, ma fille, Ce pourquoi mon cœur vacille. Quand de travail je déborde, Comme l'évier de vaisselle, Larmes me tire sans corde La tourbe sous tes semelles. Ce qui cause mon tourment, Tu l'ignores, douce enfant. Amère est ma vie; moi seule Ai une place en cuisine. L'on me dit: « Ferme ta gueule! » Mais mon ventre crie famine. Papa veut que tu raisonnes Mais moi, que ta voix résonne. Ma fille, dans un bureau, La mienne étouffe avec moi. Comment, entre des barreaux, Délivrer un air de joie? Comme une grande personne, Il me faut, pour être bonne, Rêver petit sous un ciel Qui arrache mon plumage, Voler de mes propres ailes Tout en restant dans ma cage. Moi, je dis que les bonbons Auront, plus tard, goût de plomb. Tu sauras qu'ils font grossir Et amincissent l'émail, Qu'une femme doit grandir En hauteur et non en taille. Valent mieux que la raison Les jouets dans la maison. Mais, dans le monde des grands, Sont punis ceux qui partagent; Qui vole un rêve d'enfant, Sa peluche, est nommé sage. Poésie: extrait de "Ah! Te dirai-je, ma fille", à lire dans "Genèse d'une femme" par Marine Mariposa, disponible gratuitement sur https://sites.google.com/view/papillondusublime/gen%C3%A8se-dune-femme