#lareme

[deylord]

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macroniste pas encore prêt pour les jo

[pedroam-bang]

Homeworld 3 (2024)

[osereonada]

[triskhellion]

Second Chance Strays

Rated: Explicit (8.4K)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Larem the red deer, unnamed Julia Baccari

Tags: Magical Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Graphic Violence, Getting Together, First Kiss, Virgin Stiles Stilinski, Fuck or Die, Claiming, Various Explicit Sex Acts, Knotting, Mating Bites, Mating Bonds, Wilderness Survival, Happy Ending, POV Stiles Stilinski

Mead Moons prompts: 21, Becomes, Buck, Claiming, Hay, Herbs, & Mead. @sterek-and-stuff-events

Sterek Weekly prompt: Explore (also Healthy & Family.)

When Stiles found the wolf injured and unconscious in the snow he sighed heavily, but dragged the unusually large animal onto his sled over the snorted objections of his hoof-stamping hart. 

“Don’t worry, Larem, I won’t let it eat you,” he said, scratching around a soon to be shed antler and trying to soothe his sole companion of the past 3 years. 

Cutting his foraging short, he secured the unfortunate creature and returned to his solitary hut hidden deep in the forest to take a closer look. Male, with thick, black fur and seeming a healthy weight for his size. That was a good sign. The fact that the wolf had been doing okay before whatever befell him recently gave him a better chance of survival. Stiles had magic yes, but his healing abilities were fairly modest and generally more helping things along than performing outright miracles.

After some minor debate he moved the wolf inside. There wasn’t much for the animal to destroy should he wake and it’d get him out of the elements for now. That way his body could focus on healing and not expending as much energy for warmth, especially with the increase in breath rate he now noticed. 

Lighting a fire was an easy task for Stiles’ magic and he went out to boil some water in his smallest pot to cleanse the wounds —  the wolf’s right front leg had obviously been caught in a trap, but he’d somehow managed to get out of it — and gathered comfrey, yarrow, chamomile, and calendula from his supply of healing herbs in the meantime. 

As he was taught by his mother years before, Stiles used a mortar and pestle to grind them roughly, adding garlic and honey to form a paste. He brought in the hot water and soaked clean cloths to wipe away any debris before applying the poultice and covering it with a strip of fabric. The wolf twitched and whimpered, but remained unconscious. 

Stiles put his hands on the now heaving sides of his patient and concentrated, finding something that felt dark and gave the impression of bitterness — a poison? —  and began to draw it out. It was hard, but several minutes later he seemed to have gotten it all and the labored breathing eased. He used his power to press the noxious matter into a tiny ball and sealed it pine resin before tossing into the fire. 

That done, he filled most of his mid-sized pot with water, salting it, and set it over the flame to make a warming broth with bones from some of his meals over the last few days, which he’d wrapped and buried under the snow. (One didn’t waste anything out here.) He could spare a couple handfuls of grouse as well from his larder out back and still had an ample supply of dock seed flour to make a heartier soup. Stiles took out a large bowl’s worth for the canine and then added onion, garlic, sage, and thyme to the rest.

When he returned he was quite surprised, but not utterly shocked to find a naked man on the floor where the wolf had been. He hadn’t seen such beings in person before, but had heard of them. Stiles put the bowl down on the table and peered at him curiously, noting how his wounds seemed to be gone now and how he looked just like any other man. Well, perhaps not any other man, he was very attractive indeed.

Said man awoke soon after, easing back into consciousness at first and then sitting up quickly, no doubt alarmed by the strange surroundings and possible danger. He whipped around toward Stiles, eyes turning from some pale color to a brilliant red, and growled warily.

Stiles huffed and crossed his arms. He knew he should probably be more understanding of whatever his guest had been through, but he’d been alone a long time (aside from dear Larem, pun absolutely intended) and now here he was being threatened in his own home after rescuing the sorry shifter. His own eyes flashed silver and the warning noise cut off immediately. The man awkwardly tried to both curl in on himself and bare his neck at the same time, releasing a short whine before trying to speak. 

He croaked and cleared his throat a few times as if from long disuse and then hoarsely said, “I’m sorry, Magus, please forgive me. Please don’t kill me.” 

Stiles sighed. So the wolf had heard of his kind too. Magical beings who too often strayed to the dark side and could cause untold harm in their greed and entitlement or simple desire for cruelty. 

It wasn’t the majority of them, but any occurrence was too often when as powerful as they could be. In the past couple decades it seemed to be as high as 1 in 8, at least to some degree of malfeasance, and many a decent mage had been hurt or killed in the process of defending against them. A pang of grief ran through Stiles as he thought of his parents; his mother died when he was 9 protecting him and other children from a mad wizard and his father when he was 17, just 3 and a half years ago, ambushed while doing his lawman’s rounds in the city of Beacon. Both had taken their assailants down with them, but it was little consolation. 

“I didn’t go through the trouble of saving your wolfy ass to kill you now,” he quipped, walking back toward the table. “It’s nothing exciting, but there’s food if you’d like and water to drink and wash up.”

“Thank you, Magus.”

“Stiles.”

“Pardon, but what’s a “stiles?”

“Me,” he responded, looking through the pile of clean clothes in the corner.

“Sorry, Master Stil—“

“Just call me Stiles and stop apologizing. Now, what’s your name?”

“Derek.”

“Here you go, Derek.” 

Stiles threw his loosest shirt and pair of trousers at him and went back out to the fire with the bowl. A minute later the shifter peeked around the corner and then cautiously approached him as he added the soup back to the pot and added more herbs and aromatics.

“I didn’t realize you were a shifter so I took your portion out before the onions and garlic and such,” he explained. Once he figured the flavors had melded nicely he filled the large bowl again and handed it to the stranger, serving his own meal from the cookpot and then gesturing to sit down beside him on the bench. Once he began eating Derek did as well, drinking from the bowl.

“I’d give you a spoon, but I’ve somehow managed to misplace or ruin the others and I haven’t bothered to make more yet since it’s just me that uses them.”

“It’s no trouble. I’m used to eating with my hands or in wolf shape anyway. Thank you for the food. And for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome.”

They continued to eat in silence until the sound of snorting and hooves drew their attention. Stiles looked at the wolf-man and pointed at the 5.5 year old red deer.

“That’s Larem. He’s my friend and helper so don’t eat him.”

Derek started rolling his eyes and then froze after remembering who he was sitting next to. Stiles looked up to the heavens and sighed. The shifter swallowed.

“I-I won’t. I wouldn’t have either. He clearly belongs to someone.”

“Good. ”

And so began their companionship. Derek didn’t seem in a rush to go anywhere and Stiles told him that he could stick around if he wanted. He soon built his own little hut a couple hundred feet away on the opposite side of the greenhouse. It was nice having someone to talk to who could answer back and while the wolf certainly had an appetite the amount of game in Stiles' stores increased significantly and he more than came out ahead. 

Grouse and wild turkey, rabbit and boar. He told Derek that he wouldn’t begrudge him hunting deer too as long as he did it, and the initial butchering, well away. Stiles taught Derek about dock seed, mallow, the roots and greens of daisies, lambsquarters, and tree sap for sweetening and the wolf brought back crabapples, elderberries, and teaberries that he’d found during his ranging, fashioning a bag to wear in wolf form.  

As winter turned to spring they shared more and more of their stories in bits and pieces, Stiles speaking of his parents and his old life in Beacon and Derek telling of his lost pack. Apparently, he had a sister somewhere, but both had assumed the other was dead after they were attacked years ago by Hunters. He eventually learned that she survived and left the area, but could no longer feel her. His uncle came out of a long lasting unresponsive state, but was mad and killed his other sister, leading to Derek having to put him down and becoming an alpha.

This only happened a handful of months ago and he’d spent his time as a wolf ever since until Stiles found him. He’d been hiding from regular hunters when he stumbled into the trap, which had been set by the other kind and soaked in a wolfsbane solution that prevented his usual healing abilities. Derek shifted back to human form just long enough to remove it and then ran far away despite the pain until he passed out from exhaustion and the effects of the poison.

He borrowed from Stiles' haphazard stack of books one at a time — he’d limited himself to 3 dozen when he left Beacon, a mix of fiction and survival/wilderness guides — and built him an actual book shelf. Stiles played minor pranks on him from time to time and played the mandola for him regularly after dinner. One evening when it rained and he’d done his music inside he could’ve sworn that Derek was going to kiss him when he walked the departing werewolf to the door. There was a charged pause, eyes roaming over faces to lips and then back to meet again, but the moment passed with only an awkward smile and a quiet farewell.

Stiles hadn’t much considered the prospect of romance and/or sex with the shifter until then both being completely out of the habit of such things and worried about the possible fallout. He had been texting with Heather about their upcoming first date — his first date, period — flirting and making plans for weekend when he got the news that his father had been killed. Needless to say, it was cancelled along with every other plan he had as he first withdrew into himself and then from society altogether. That had been the entirety of his romantic endeavors and while he masturbated like a typical young man he tried not to dwell on things he didn't, couldn't have.

Then Derek showed up and it also became a matter of not wanting to risk scaring off his only human (-ish) friend or, in the beginning, concerns about taking advantage when the werewolf was still a bit afraid of him. So he just hadn't really let himself go there. But that night Stiles desperately stroked himself while imagining green eyes staring into his as large hands explored him all over. A swarthy, muscular body on top of him and the short beard — which he loaned his scissors to keep trimmed — rubbing against his skin. 

He hadn’t actually gotten a proper look at Derek’s cock, but he did his best to imagine it thrusting into him as well, adding two and then three fingers (as much as he could at that angle) to bring himself to completion. After that night Stiles noticed occasional glances and there were little touches here and there, but nothing more came of it, both likely afraid to make the first move. And then one day everything changed. 

It was a beautiful afternoon in May and Stiles had decided to leave Larem to rest and enjoy some hay with apples and acorns, setting off to take a nice long walk and go foraging alone instead while Derek was out hunting. He was exploring in a direction where he’d seldom gone, happily picking wild garlic in a small clearing he’d come across, when all of a sudden something made all the hairs on his arm stand up. Danger. Eyes wide he threw himself on the ground and rolled just as a burst of magic hit the spot where he’d been standing. 

Fucking darachs. He’d thought he left all of this behind, but apparently even the middle of fucking nowhere wasn’t far enough. Stiles returned fire with his own power, feinting and then hitting the long-haired brunette square in the chest with a what he called a "pain loop," causing her to scream in agony and fury.   

He lashed out again with a stunning spell, but she managed to dodge it and all too soon interrupted the paroxysms from his previous strike, eyes glowing milky white as she threw something in sickly shades of green and brown at him. A perversion of earth magic. 

Stiles was able to twist away in time and then he was running, weaving between the trees as soon as he reached the edge of the clearing. Not for the first time he bemoaned the fact that he was too young to learn killing spells from his mother, who was loath to know such things, but understood their necessity. He tried to put some distance between them so he could face the dark druid on his own terms, perhaps ambush her on ground of his choosing if he was lucky. 

Unfortunately, he was still a ways off from his usual stomping grounds and unbeknownst to him a large tree had fallen and blocked the other end of the fairly short, but narrow path he vaguely remembered from a previous time that he’d come this way. Cursing, he went back and hoped to emerge in time to try another route, but the darach met him on the way out. 

He was at the ready so he got off another pain loop even as he was finally hit with whatever foul magic she was dealing out. Stiles gasped as a chill took hold of him and he felt noticeably weaker than he had just moments before. He hit her with the stunning spell as well this time, but he could tell it wasn’t nearly as strong as it should be as he staggered too slowly towards her. 

Stiles was planning to kill her the old-fashioned way, with his sufficient enough all-purpose knife, but another wave of weakness went through him and he fell to his knees perhaps 5 or so yards away. Wearing a smirk on her objectively pretty, but...twisted, oblong face the darach rose to her feet, stretching languidly like she just woke refreshed from a nice nap. With horror he realized that that was more or less the case and that it was his power and life-force being siphoned to her benefit.

She didn’t speak, but stood there watching him like a cat not quite ready to pounce again on the mouse she’d been toying with, drawing out her amusement. A flash of darkness fast approaching caught his eye beyond her and he pretended to have a fit in order to keep her attention. I really hope I’m not just seeing things, he thought. Hurry. 

“Why are you doing this?” he shouted. The woman rolled her now normal looking light colored eyes and huffed. 

“Power, what else?” she replied in a tone that said he was very stupid indeed. 

No, what was stupid was wasting time gloating and not paying attention to your surroundings or checking for reinforcements when dealing with an enemy. Stiles ranted about less than mediocre practitioners trying to make themselves feel special with stolen power, but always being the same pathetic losers at heart, punctuating his words by slapping his hands on the ground and rustling the leaves and twigs there. The darach’s face grew dark and she clenched her fists, clearly over his continued existence. Just as she was about to step forward he bared his teeth in a bloodthirsty grin.

“Go to hell,” he said, and then the massive, red eyed, black wolf was there, leaping to clamp his jaws around the back and right side of her neck. Stiles took great pleasure in the utter shock on her face, lastly only a second or two before Derek brought her to the ground and tore her throat out the moment he regained leverage. As her blood sprayed and splattered a rather impressive distance he felt the effects of her spell slow and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Unsteadily, he got up and stumbled toward where Derek was still savaging what was now a tattered corpse.

“I think you got her, dude,” he snickered, feeling not a shred of remorse for the death that just occurred. Who knows how many people she’d hurt or killed before attacking him? 

The wolf shook the body one final time and then dropped it, fangs gleaming red like his eyes, before shifting into a naked, blood smeared Derek. Stiles swallowed. That should not be as hot as it was. Apparently that post-battle feral lust thing in stories was real. Derek’s nostrils flared and he made a pleased growling noise, his cock twitching and starting to harden in interest. Oh my god. Stiles was torn between remaining there, frozen, and closing the last few paces between them when his legs suddenly buckled.

“Stiles,” Derek cried, rushing forward to keep him from slumping all the way over. 

It took a minute to clear his head and he then realized that while the darach’s draining spell had indeed slowed considerably, it hadn’t stopped even with her death. Like she’d also tied it off somewhere and didn’t only anchor it to herself. What the fuck?!

“Draining spell, need to go home now,” he rushed out. Moments later he was lifted into strong arms and cradled against Derek’s chest as the beta-shifted wolf ran much faster than Stiles’ own feet could ever take him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his  diminished well of magic, using it to counteract the spell. It bought him time, but as he was expending more power than he could replenish in his current state doing so only amounted to dying more slowly than he was before. Maybe distance from the casting and using his herbs to restore and amplify his power could make the difference.

He was too weary to stand when they got back so Derek put him down on his bed and tried to find the right jars of plant matter using his descriptions. Stiles had lived alone for so long and had never thought to label what he clearly knew on sight. After trying to figure out which of three nearly identical containers of dried leaves was a particular ingredient a frustrated Derek simply picked him up again and had him point at the right items. The wolf prepared them according to his instructions and he swallowed the resulting tea in between words of focus and intention. 

Stiles felt some vitality return, but even after seven mugs of the frankly disgusting stuff over the next hour or so he could tell that it wouldn’t be enough to give him the strength necessary to break the spell. Fuck. He was now at least able to brew the tea himself and continued drinking two to three mugs of it an hour for several hours, pissing like a racehorse in between trying to think of something, anything, else, but he was quickly running out of a couple of the rarer herbs. 

There was only so much of the infusion he could consume before it stopped being effective and before both the amount of liquid and the ingredients themselves became toxic anyway. Fuck. As the smallest containers emptied the tension evident in Derek’s body increased, the clenching of his jaw more pronounced and the muscles of his back tighter still. The pants-only shifter alternated between pacing inside the small dwelling, trying to sit quietly, and going outside to check the immediate perimeter for any additional danger. 

When Stiles was down to his last mug and half of tea he finally resigned himself to the inevitable. He was going to die by the hand of an evil caster just like his parents. And just like with them, it didn’t matter that the darach had been thoroughly neutralized, though that did at least bring him some satisfaction.

All that hiding and isolation and it had been for nothing in the end. Stiles laughed bitterly. It wasn’t fair. He was only 21, his birthday just the previous month though he hadn’t bothered to mention it. Stiles hadn’t even gotten the chance to see if the whatever between him and Derek eventually went anywhere. It was dark out now and he had seen his last sunrise. 

Around three-quarters of an hour later, maybe 10 minutes after taking that final sip, he turned to the silent, intently watching werewolf with a wry smile.

“Promise that you’ll look after Larem for me.” Derek made a wounded noise and he felt a sweet, sad warmth for his friend. Stiles was very sorry to leave him like this, but he was glad to have met him. To have cared for him and know that he had been cared for too. “And promise that you’ll do what you need to do to both survive and not go feral. Find yourself a pack,” he added sternly.

Derek exhaled forcefully and an expression of grim determination came over his face.

“There’s a way…I might be able to save you.” 

Stiles gave him the mother of all exasperated looks, throwing up his hands. 

“And you didn’t think to mention this earlier because…?”

“I’d have to claim you,” Derek replied, sounding somewhat uncomfortable, but moving closer to him.

“Claim me?” Stiles asked, puzzled. 

Like pledging fealty in a ritual or something? Or did the wolf mean giving him the turning Bite? Perhaps he wasn’t aware that it didn’t work on magic users, either doing nothing or killing them. 

“Mate you.” 

Ohhh.  

Oh.

Oh my god.

“Wha—Seriously?!” he blurted out, incredulously. Seriously?!, he echoed internally.

Derek looked like he’d swallowed something sour and was probably about to explain that he was certainly not just trying to have his way with a dying man and how very dare, but Stiles lifted an arm — already feeling heavier again, fuck, this spell was a bitch — and put two fingers to the shifter’s lips before letting it fall again.

“I believe you, Derek. That’s exactly the kind of thing required for binding magic, which I gather this shifter mating stuff is. Blood or bone or, um, essence, and all that kind of thing or some combination thereof. I swear the Universe is a huge perv. It’s just…wow, not at all what I was expecting to hear right now." The werewolf looked at him with fondness and concern. Stiles took a deep breath. “Yeah, you can…you can do that.”

It wasn’t only the increasing weakness that had him trembling when he made his way from the table over to the bed, Derek hovering behind him. He turned and dropped to sit on the mattress, looking up at the older man.

“Kiss me?” he pleaded, wanting to make sure he got to know what it was like and to do some part of this in order. 

Derek smiled and caressed his cheek with a knuckle before sliding it under his chin to tip his head up, bending down to press their lips together. Stiles made a soft sound and opened his mouth to allow Derek’s tongue inside after it swept across his lower lip. A minute or so of exploration and deepening kisses later he felt out of breath and drew back, panting but grinning shakily. 

He lifted his arms as well as he could and the shifter quickly helped him undress, pulling off his shirt and then gently pushing him back and drawing his pants and underwear down and then off along with his socks. And then there he was — flushed, hard, and lying bare — as hungry red eyes raked over his body.

“Beautiful,” the wolf murmured before removing his own pants and freeing the erection that had been straining against it. Stiles’ eyes widened at seeing Derek fully hard. That was going to go inside him? He might’ve whimpered or maybe his scent was tinged with nervousness or fear because Derek paused to run those large hands along his sides (it felt even better than he’d imagined) and told him that it would be okay before guiding him over onto his belly. 

With no hesitation the wolf parted his cheeks and started licking over his hole, circling or pushing at the muscle every few passes. No one had ever touched him sexually much less there — hell, he hadn’t been touched at all in years by another person until the recent brief brushes from Derek — and Stiles was overwhelmed by both the physical sensation and his emotional reaction. The shifter reached up to rub his back and then took hold of ass with both hands once more, soon working his tongue inside. Stiles moaned in pleasure, but then another sudden chill reminded him of the situation.

“Uh, as amazing as this is, you kinda gotta hurry it up, dude,” he got out between breaths. The wolf gave him another long lick before lifting his head and growling in frustration.

“I wanted to take my time with you if this ever happened. You deserve so much better than…” Derek trailed off and Stiles could feel that he was shaking his head.

“I appreciate that big guy and I promise that if this works you can, um, do that as long as you want another time.” Derek snorted. 

“I’ll hold you to that. Do you have any—“

“In that cabinet. The tall, thin bottle,” Stiles cut in, jerking his head in its direction. He’d placed a simple preservation spell on it to keep the things inside lasting several times longer than they normally would. The wolf returned with the container of a clear gel, a curious look on his face. “Aloe vera,” he explained. “I brought some plants with me from…before. It grows in the greenhouse. Good for minor burns and injuries and, er, quite viscous and slippery.” 

Heeding the need for urgency, Derek immediately gathered some on his fingers and applied it to his entrance and Stiles tensed at its coolness. He made himself relax again, allowing a thick finger to slip inside. 

“More,” he gasped, rubbing himself against the bed. “I’ve…used fingers before.”

“I know,” Derek rumbled, pushing a second digit inside. “I’ve heard you.”

Stiles could feel himself turn bright red, which was really rather silly in his current position, but he couldn’t help being somewhat mortified. How many times over the past several weeks, since the kiss that wasn’t, had he brought himself off whispering the wolf’s name?

Derek chuckled and leaned down to kiss his left shoulder blade before going to nibble at his earlobe. 

“I almost came to you a few times, my wolf going wild at how you clearly wanted us,” he whispered into Stiles’ ear, making him shiver. “But I figured you had your reasons and fantasy doesn’t always equal what one would actually do.” 

“Didn’t want to scare you off…pressure you,” he said, panting. 

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Derek replied huskily. “And as for pressure…”

The shifter got a bit more of the lubricant and added a third finger, stretching him wider than his own slender ones ever had. Reaching deeper than he could from those awkward angles. 

“Derek!” Stiles cried out when he massaged that special spot within him. 

“One more,” the wolf crooned, pumping faster and spreading his fingers. “Go ahead and come. I want you nice and relaxed for my knot.” Stiles clenched involuntarily at the thought. Right, werewolf. An alpha werewolf. He felt Derek’s pinky enter him and it burned some. “You’re doing so well.” 

Propped up a bit on his elbows Stiles rocked his hips, fucking himself back onto Derek’s hand and then forward to rub his dick on the mattress beneath him, moaning. On some of the forward thrusts he ground down in a circular motion for maximum friction. He was so close. Stiles heard the shifter spit and then a hand was sneaking under him to grasp his shaft. He whined, moving faster between the two palms and then he was coming, spasming around the appendages continuing to piston into him. 

Mere moments into the afterglow yet another wave of cold and weakness wracked through him and he cried out again, this time in fear, as his upper chest, shoulders, and face hit the mattress. Stiles managed to turn his head to the side.

“Please hurry!” 

“Okay, okay,” the wolf soothed, withdrawing fingers from his still clenching hole and shoving a pillow beneath him before shaking more globs of gel out to coat himself. The slick sounds made him flush in anticipation. He felt Derek get into position and the press of his cock against his rim. “Deep breath.”

Stiles did as instructed, bearing down and gasping as the groaning wolf pushed into him steadily until he was all the way in, filling him.  

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Derek hissed, pausing only a few seconds before grabbing him by the waist and beginning to thrust. 

“First..time,” he said breathlessly, eyelids fluttering. It felt so good even lying there like a lump on a log, a doll for the werewolf to fuck. Derek growled again, a pleased sound, and Stiles grinned. “Oh, you like hearing that, big guy?”

“Yes,” the shifter answered before mouthing at the back of his neck and then down to his shoulder, fucking him harder. Faster. Stiles really hoped he survived so that he could actually participate next time, but if he was still going to die, well, what a way to go!

“Going to knot you, bite you,” Derek warned a few minutes later.

His cock made a valiant effort, but it was still too soon to harden again. Then the second part of that statement sunk in it and he tensed with worry. 

“Not that kind of Bite,” Derek added hastily. “Mating bite. It won’t hurt you.” Stiles sighed in relief. “Well, you know, it’ll probably hurt ‘cause teeth, but—“

“I know what you meant,” he replied with a soft chuckle before gasping again. Stiles could feel the shifter’s cock swelling, spreading him even wider than his palm had. Derek groaned, thrusting in sharp jerks, and draped over him. The pressure was continuing to grow and he whimpered, sensitive, as pleasure teetered on the edge of pain. Then the knot locked inside him and Derek began to howl. Stiles intentionally squeezed around him.

Sharp fangs clamped down between his neck and shoulder and he wailed, overwhelmed as new senses and amplified or mirrored sensations crashed into him. He was stuffed full and enveloped by a tight, hot passage milking him all at once. Power coursed through him, a renewed vigor flooding his veins and refilling his nearly empty well. 

When it got to the point of overflowing he looked within and severed the muddy, leeching connection. Stiles made sure to locate and tear out all of its remnants as well, his now red-tinged silver magic immediately rushing in to heal the resultant damage. When he returned to the outside world he was hard again, Derek grinding his still pulsing knot against his prostate, continuing to come with teeth embedded in his flesh. 

“It’s done,” he whispered just before a second mind-blowing, mind-melding, orgasm swept through him and he proceeded to pass the fuck out.

When Stiles came to he being was cradled in Derek’s arms and sitting sideways across his lap, the shifter upright on his bed with his back against the wall. As the last images of some truly strange and spectacular dreams slipped away, he yawned and stretched languidly. He was not only alive, but felt good. Stiles wiggled to look into the green eyes of the very awake werewolf.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, choking up. Derek nodded and swallowed thickly himself, taking one of Stiles’ hands in both of his and kissing it. 

He noted that he was wearing his light robe and had obviously been cleaned up as he wasn’t sticky or anything after their activities. Stiles blushed at the memory and received a light squeeze on the ass, causing him to make a squeaky sound and redden more.

“So I guess I belong to you now, huh?” he said a few minutes later, curious and a bit uncertain, but not displeased with the situation. The part of him that was stubborn and contrary and so very independent grumbled a bit, but the rest of him was okay with the idea. He didn’t think the wolf would abuse whatever power he now held over him.

“No,” Derek replied, eyes crinkling at the corners. ”We belong to each other.”

“Oh, like family?”

“Yes, family. Mates. Pack.”

Stiles more than liked the sound of that just as he more than liked the werewolf. He was content to remain resting where he was for a while longer despite his not only returned, but increased strength — he’d have to give his new capabilities a whirl later — but felt a bit self-conscious as Derek continued to watch him intently with a serious, vulnerable expression. Gratitude. Reverence. Wonder, the new connection in his mind supplied. How cool was that?

“What?” he finally asked, kissing the wolf’s nose as a strong hand caressed his back. “You look like you’re the one who almost died.” 

He said it teasingly, but Derek froze momentarily and then remained suspiciously silent. Stiles’ stomach dropped as his mind sharpened, rising from its nice, floaty haze.

“Derek?” The shifter eventually met his searching eyes. “What would’ve happened to you if I’d died?”

“That close to the formation of the bond? I would’ve followed you,” he answered quietly

Several emotions rushed through him, one after the other, before combining to make him a teary mess. Shock and gratitude for his choice. Anger and sorrow and guilt at the thought of Derek dying with him. For him. Elation that he mattered that much. Stiles swatted the wolf’s shoulder and then pulled him in for a kiss. He was bursting with the desire to express the depth of his feelings, but what came out was something else.

“As soon as I get up I’m sucking your dick, you idiot!” he exclaimed, scowling. 

“Uh…is that supposed to be a threat or…?” 

Stiles tried to smack him again, but Derek grabbed his hand, laughing. 

“I just hate the idea of you risking your life like that. Knowing you could’ve died for me.”

Derek shrugged. 

“You saved me. And more than that, you gave me a reason to live. An existence that's about more than mere survival. Kept me from starting to go feral and having to make a choice about that with only three shitty options.” The older man blushed and looked away. “You mean a lot to me. Make me happy, which I no longer thought possible.”

Stiles felt stunned. He also recalled a conversation from a while back about the basics of being a werewolf.

“Am I your anchor?" he asked tentatively. Derek gave him an unimpressed look. 

“Obviously.” 

"You know, I liked it better when you were all 'Magus this' and 'Master that,'” he glared, crossing his arms. 

"No you don't," the shifter replied matter-of-factly. 

Stiles groaned in annoyance and Derek smirked. He flopped out of the werewolf’s lap and onto his stomach on the bed, resting his head on his stacked forearms and hiding his face. Moments later he felt a hand petting him on the back of the head before lightly squeezing his neck. Arousal flashed through him and he wiggled a bit, making an embarrassing little noise. 

The hand then ran up and down his back and the wolf rumbled possessively, which made Stiles giggle a bit. It wasn't like there was anyone around to witness much less warrant such displays. Their only other companion was a deer and an apparently very straight one at that based on his antics during the last few rutting seasons.

Fingers went back to his neck again, stroking over his bite mark, and Stiles moaned even louder this time. 

"Is that an invitation, mate?” Derek asked with a growl in his voice. 

“Yes, mate,” he replied, feeling a thrill at saying the word for the first time. He repeated his intention of sucking Derek off, but the stubborn werewolf said he’d made a prior promise. Before long Stiles was a writhing, begging mess and the werewolf was only satisfied once he came untouched from being eaten out alone. 

He finally got his mouth on Derek’s cock once he recovered, having him sit up against the wall again, and did his best to get back at him. Stiles experimented with varying maneuvers of his tongue, lips, and hands and after learning some of what the responsive wolf liked most he gleefully teased him until the alpha’s hand shot out to hold his head in place, claws scraping lightly against his scalp. Stiles moaned at the action, his own cock leaking against his belly. Pausing to scent the air and receiving a jerky, eager nod, Derek began to thrust upward into his willing mouth until hot cum was coating his tongue and sliding down his throat. 

Interesting, he thought, licking his lips afterward. It was no honey or tree sap, but definitely better than the godforsaken tea he’d been chugging yesterday. He fully intended to acquire a taste for it.

The mated pair spent their days much as they did before, but with the addition of regularly sparring and practicing finding or sneaking up on each other under a wide range of conditions. Not wanting to be at a disadvantage again, Stiles also worked on creating his own offensive spells and was able to make some actually effective defensive charms with his new abilities. 

And then there was the sex, of course. The quick and dirty fucking and marathon lovemaking sessions and everything in between. Yeah, okay, so there were some major changes, but the plants in the greenhouse still needed tending and the seeds and nuts still needed grinding for flour and the clothes still needed washing, you know?

They built a larger home for the both of them, referred to as the Den, while maintaining their individual huts for those times when they needed space or simply wanted to work on something without disturbing the other. They also built a cob oven outside so they could bake crackers and dense, crumbly breads and granola from the dock seed, acorns, etc, instead of mostly using them to bulk up soups and stews, as breading, or to make a kind of gruel. 

Larem finally got used to Derek even in his wolf form, the two of them actually cuddling together on occasion. 

“I’m a disgrace to wolves,” the shifter muttered after the first time it happened. 

“A very adorable disgrace,” Stiles said, attempting to console him before bursting into giggles.

“Just don’t befriend any boars or game birds,” Derek growled, glaring and wagging a finger.

Summer slid into autumn and when Stiles came across a huge beehive nestled inside a tree trunk he was over the moon. Sap was just fine, but the converted nectar was on a whole other level and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with most of his bounty. After returning with the necessary supplies he smoked the bees out and used his power to keep any stragglers from reaching him, taking care to make sure the hive remained habitable and the queen unharmed. Stiles collected nearly 25 pounds of honey, leaving more than enough for the bees to get through the winter.  

Over the years he’d tried fermenting various things, sometimes doing so unintentionally as well, with a wide range of results. He kept about a third of the honey for sweetening and the rest he used to make a handful of different one gallon batches of mead. The glass containers were left to gather wild yeast, stoppered with airlocks, and then placed in a warm, dark place to do their thing with periodic tending.

Derek told him that he had no idea what day it was or even what month it was for sure, but that fall always reminded him of his family who’d made a big deal of the harvest celebrations between the equinox and the following full moon. Stiles had stopped paying attention to dates too for the most part, but was in the habit of marking a daily tally and so had the means of figuring it out if he so cared to. He later informed his wolf that it was September 27th. 

Derek mentioned some other meaningful days from his past, including his birthday, which was on Christmas Day. Curious, his mate then asked when his birthday was and Stiles told him that it was April 8th, a couple months after they first met and a month or so before they got together. Derek frowned and said that he wish he’d known. 

“Well my half birthday is coming up soon,” he replied, grinning. 

Derek rolled his eyes, but prepared Stiles’ favorite meal for the event — roasted garlic and rosemary wild boar with honeyed parsnips — and worshipped his body all night, knotting him twice.

By the time Derek Day came around (Christmas was hard for both of them, especially Stiles, but Derek’s birthday they could do) most of the mead had been racked and was either aging or in secondary fermentation based on the alcohol content he was going for or the resiliency of the yeast. The rest they had already drank young. 

All of it served its basic purpose of getting him tipsy (or more) and was drinkable at the least, but the blackberry melomel and the meadowsweet and dandelion petal metheglin were truly delicious. He gave a couple bottles of each to Derek as the first part of his 26th birthday gift. The wolf might not be able to get drunk, which Stiles vowed to remedy that one day, but he could enjoy the complex beverages all the same, sweet and semi-sweet respectively.

The second part of his gift was a rich cake-like dessert made with acorn flour, water, honey, boar grease, the last of the duck eggs from his new and improved preservation cooler, vanilla leaf, lavender, and salt, and baked in the cob oven. The third part was simply his mouth and ass, Stiles wearing a bow and everything. (Two bows actually, one around his neck and the other around his waist, made from berry-dyed woven foliage and scraps of fabric.)

On New Years Day he hitched the sled up to Larem once more to go exploring, but this time a massive black wolf trotted along side or ranged ahead to circle back around protectively. Another 5 weeks would mark a year since that fateful afternoon when his tiny world of two began to become a fuller, happier three. Brought him a companion who became a true friend and then even more. A mate.

They stopped to eat lunch near an unfamiliar river — he marked its location on his map and made a note to return and try fishing when it was warmer — and Derek shifted back, pulling on the thick, winter clothing Stiles had packed for him. He unfolded a small metal tripod with a hook and set his small cookpot on it, filling it with the leftovers of last night’s 3 meat and mushroom stew before placing kindling and dry chunks of wood underneath it to start a fire. 

They sat on the sled and when their meal was bubbling nicely Stiles took some hay from a side bag, tossing it and a handful of acorns to the buck, and then ladled the stew into bowls. Two cups for him and three for the always hungrier wolf. They now had 10 fine spoons thanks to Derek’s superior wood-carving skills: the ladle,  3 other cooking/serving spoons, and 3 pairs for eating in different sizes. Afterwards he brought out an apple for each of them as well.

Derek watched as Larem happily munched on his and then turned to Stiles with a raised eyebrow.

“You know, you never did tell me exactly how you ended up with him.”

“Huh, I guess not,” Stiles muttered, thinking back as the shifter took a bite of fruit. “I found him a few months after I came out here, around the end of fall four years ago. He would’ve been around 2 1/2 then and one of his back legs had gotten broken somehow. I don’t know whether he was still with his mother’s herd or with a young bachelor’s group until then and got left behind or if he’d been already going solo, but at any rate, he was alone and leaning against a tree. Larem was able to move around, but it was doubtful that he could cover enough ground to feed himself properly, especially with winter coming, and he definitely couldn’t flee from any predators.”

Derek grunted in acknowledgment, tearing a huge chunk out of his apple. 

“I considered eating him of course, but he was just so defenseless and looked at me with his big, curious eyes — he’d probably never seen a human before — and I just couldn’t do it. Besides I was lonely and rather bored and figured he might be a good project whether just in the short term or something ongoing. 

“I had a ton of apples from some trees I harvested a few weeks before and had brought several with me, so I threw him a couple before approaching. He seemed fairly trusting or at least hungry enough to override his fear and while he focused on a third one in my hand I got close and used my magic to make him unconscious so I could work on his leg. I set the bone as best I could and was able to speed the healing along just enough for it to hold if he bore weight on it. When he woke up he seemed pretty confused, but snapped out of it once I gave him the apple.” 

Stiles looked over to see Larem eyeing the red and green fruit he was currently holding and chuckled. He took out his knife and cut half of it into slices, tossing one to the buck.

“I got him to follow me home like this, giving him pieces of another three apples and eating one myself. Thankfully it wasn’t too far away. I had some hay and other dried plant stuff meant for mulch and more apples of course, so he hung around. 

“I brought rope with me when I moved out here as well; it took two long, slow and heavy trips before I had everything I wanted and where we live is a good ways further than my original shelter at the time. I can make bark cordage now, but frankly the synthetic stuff is stronger so it’s good that I had it. Anyway, I fashioned a harness and lead from some of it and decided I would keep him unless he truly seemed unhappy. I thought I might be able to train him to carry bags or drag stuff for me and, well, the rest” — he finished with a dramatic flourish — “is history!” 

Derek appeared suitably impressed with him and he smiled, throwing the rest of the slices to Larem. 

“I’m pretty sure he kept me from going crazy too,” he added, biting into the remaining half apple. Derek gave him a look that said he wasn’t too sure about that and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“And then you found me,” his mate said, eyes still sparkling with amusement.

“Mmhmm,” Stiles hummed, nodding before swallowing his mouthful. “Three second chance strays: human, werewolf, and hart. Well, Larem was too young be a proper hart then, but he’s one now.” He gestured to the 6.5 year old buck. “It’s a much cooler term for you, right?”  

Larem looked at him blankly and then snorted, turning and lying down on the patch of snow free ground under a tree now that food time was over. Derek laughed, leaning over to kiss him, and they fell back onto the sled. It was too cold to want to get naked out here, but he let his his knees fall open so that the alpha could lie between them and he could wrap his legs around him. They made out for a while, kissing and rubbing against each other through their layers.

Stiles didn’t know what the future held; whether they would just stay out here until death did them part or if they would venture back to civilization at some point either to stay or just occasionally to procure the stuff they really couldn’t get in the wild. Things made from metal and books and certain spices and medicines. Other company perhaps, strange as it now seemed. 

Soft fabrics, at least for undergarments, when their clothes eventually wore down completely and couldn’t be patched or sewn together into more shirts or pants or briefs with other usable scraps. He could make thread from nettles and other plant fibers, but it was very labor intensive to do garments from scratch, not to mention, well, scratchy. All leather all the time would be a bit much as well, especially in the warmer months, but Derek could certainly rock the look and took to making it from his larger kills.  

What Stiles did know is that they’d all saved each other and that he’d follow his mate anywhere. Based on the glint in the werewolf’s now red-ringed eyes and the love and arousal coursing down his bond that meant straight back to the Den to roll around naked. They hastily repacked their things and hitched the sled up to the annoyed deer, promising him additional, rarer goodies upon their return for interrupting his nap. 

“Let’s go home!” he cried, getting into position and signaling for Larem to move. A loud, sustained howl was let loose just ahead and Stiles grinned into the cold air rushing by with a heart full of warmth. 

Larem. About to lose his antlers, sick of your shit.

[xxyarsiaxx]

A little sneak peak into my new story The Return

Yasmine was in her bed watching tv when she received a call from her cousin who she hasn't heard from in forever. "Olivia, what?" Yasmine's voice carries curiosity as she picks up the call, recognizing the urgency in Olivia's tone. "Yasmine, I know it's been a minute, but I need your help," Olivia's voice came through the line, firm and focused. "It's about Karen Grant."

Yasmine's posture shifts immediately, her attention fully captured. She sits up straighter, her mind racing with thoughts about the President's daughter. "Karen? What's happened?" Yasmine's voice tightens with worry.

"She's gone missing," Olivia explains quickly. "She slipped away from her Secret Service detail at a college party. I'm here now trying to track her down, but I could really use your help."

There was a brief silence on the line as Yasmine processed the information. Her mind raced through memories of Karen, of the President's family, and the gravity of the situation began to sink in.

"Where are you?" Yasmine finally asked, her voice steady with determination.

"A warehouse party... 6400 West 7th ," Olivia replies swiftly. "Just meet me here We need to find her before anything else happens." Yasmine nods decisively, even though Olivia couldn't see her. "I'm on my way." Yasmine answers and  Without another word, Yasmine hung up and quickly gathered her things, her thoughts focused on Karen and the urgency of the situation.

...

As Yasmine arrived at the party, the scene was lively and chaotic. People danced and laughed, the air thick with music and the scent of alcohol. "Jello shots!" someone yells nearby, but Yasmine remains focused, scanning the room for Olivia.

"Olivia! Where are you?" Yasmine shouts over the loud music and chatter. Her phone rings, and she quickly answers, holding it to her ear while continuing to look around. "I'm here, where are you?" Yasmine asks urgently. "Go all the way to the back, I'm there," Olivia's voice directs her through the phone before hanging up.

Following Olivia's instructions, Yasmine weaves through the lively party, finally finding a door at the rear of the house. She opens it cautiously, stepping into a dimly lit room. There, she sees Quinn and Olivia huddled over Karen, who is lying on half of a bed, looking pale and worn out.

"Oh my gosh," Yasmine murmurs softly, her heart sinking at the sight of Karen in such a vulnerable state. She quickly moves to Karen's side, kneeling beside her and gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Karen hunches over, her shoulders heaving, and vomits onto the ground. "Karen, honey" Yasmine says as Karen turns to her. "Yasmine?"karen questions as Yasmine nods reassuringly, her concern evident in her eyes. "Yes, honey, it's me." Yasmine says assuring her.  Karen looks up at Yasmine with a mixture of relief and embarrassment. "Yaz, please don't tell my parents." Larem pleads, Yasmine's expression softens with empathy.

"I won't, I promise. Okay?" Yasmine says as  Karen nods slightly, tears welling up in her eyes. Yasmine wraps her arms around Karen in a comforting hug, holding her close. "It's okay, Karen. I'm here." Yasmine says as Karen curls up to her.

"We came for some spoiled rich kid?" Quinn asks confused as Yasmine takes her jacket off and gives it to Karen to put on.  "Look at my contacts. Find Cyrus Beene. Call his cell... Not the one marked private, the one marked black. It's an encrypted number, so it will take a minute to go through." Olivia says as she gives quinn her phone.  "Olivia, why am I calling Cyrus Beene?" Quinn asks confused.

"To tell him we've got the president's daughter." Olivia says answering the question.

...

Cyrus Beene stirs in his bed as his phone abruptly rang, prompting him to answer with a terse, "Cyrus Beene." On the other end, Quinn urgently briefed him on the situation. "Where the hell was the Secret Service?" he demands, sitting up as Quinn explained the security breach.

"She slipped her detail. We need an extraction plan. We can't risk the front door with all these kids and their smartphones," Yasmine interjects, taking the phone from Quinn.

"The room's spinning," groans Karen, clutching her head. "15 minutes," Cyrus says firmly.

"We'll be ready," Yasmine confirmed before ending the call and passing the phone back to Olivia as Quinn then goes outside to scope the place out.  Olivia dials a number and Huck picked up on the other end. "Liv?"

"I need you to shut down cell service at 6400 West 7th," Olivia instructs  urgency evident in her voice. "How many phones?" Huck's fingers hovered over his keyboard. "Probably over a hundred. Can you do it?" Olivia pressed, while Quinn stood guard at the door. "I can try to exploit the kill switch," Huck explained, but Olivia cut him off.

"Easy, Huck. Is that a yes?"

"On it," Huck affirmed before hanging up and diving into his task. "Fire escape, other side of the building. About a hundred feet through the loft," Quinn strategizes, closing the door behind her "Karen, we're leaving. When we go out, act sober as possible," Yasmine instructs gently, addressing Karen's condition. "Okay," Karen nods weakly. "Except I can't really walk," Karen adds, voicing her difficulty. Yasmine took one arm, and Olivia took the other, guiding Karen through the crowded room where curious teenagers glanced their way.

"Hey, isn't that the Grant kid?" murmurs one of the teens, recognizing Karen. "Google her," suggested another, reaching for his dead phone "Damn, phone's dead. Check yours," he urges his friend,  As they reached the fire escape, they spot two teenagers kissing. "Ugh, go, mingle, make new friends," Yasmine urges, gently pushing them forward before returning to Karen's side.

"Quinn, window!" Olivia commanded, and Quinn swiftly unlatched it. "Watch your step. I'll be right behind you," Olivia reassures Karen, who looks bewildered. "Okay... Wait. What are we doing?" Karen asks in confusion "Getting you into college!" Olivia replies with a wry smile.

They climb out the window and found a waiting helicopter. Karen hesitates  but follows Quintin onto the aircraft, with Olivia bringing up the rear. "When we land, the Secret Service will take you inside," Yasmine shouts over the helicopter's noise. "What? You're not coming in with me?" Karen's voice quivers with fear. "You'll have to talk to your parents, honey," Yasmine replies firmly, with Olivia nodding in agreement.

"But I don't understand. I thought that was your job... to cover for people?" Karen turns to Olivia. "It's kind of hard to cover up a chopper on the White House lawn," Quinn chimes in, causing Karen to look at her in surprise. "Karen, this isn't a job. This is a favor. I got you out of that party and back home without a thousand YouTube videos of the President's drunk daughter all over the news. Favor complete," Olivia explains calmly. "Olivia's right. You got yourself into this; you'll need to get yourself out of it. I'm going back to my warm bed. Your job now is to explain to your parents why you thought slipping your Secret Service detail to get wasted at a party 500 miles from your school was a good idea," Yasmine states firmly.

"I don't need a pair of suits with wires in their ears watching over me 24/7," Karen insists, crossing her arms defensively."Those agents protect you," Yasmine counters.

"They were standing right next to my brother when he died! What did they protect him from?" Karen's voice cracked with emotion, silencing the helicopter's din. "Karen..." Yasmine starts, but Karen rolls her eyes. "Whatever," Karen mutters under her breath. "Young lady," Yasmine's tone turns stern, causing Karen to sigh . "Sorry, ma'am," Karen responds quietly. "I just needed a night out.

[luttesmuricoles]

Paris, 2023.

"LaREM"

[minim]

Shull 58: larem

[bachassclub]

A CHABEUIL, MARIE POCHON ( Les Écologistes, pour le NFP) INVERSE LA TENDANCE DU PREMIER TOUR ET DEVANCE ADHÉMAR AUTRAND (LR-Ciottiste, soutenu par le Rassemblement National) QUI FAIT TOUT DE MÊME UN SCORE SOLIDE. POCHON : 52 % (2029 voix), CONTRE AUTRAND 48 % (1866 voix). CONSTITUTION D'UN PARTI 'NI-NISTE' LOCAL A L'AVENIR INCERTAIN, QUI RECUEILLE 9,4 % DES VOIX. MARIE POCHON EST RÉÉLUE DÉPUTÉE DE LA TROISIÈME CIRCONSCRIPTION DE LA DRÔME AVEC 56,6 % DES VOIX,CONTRE 43,4 % À ADHÉMAR AUTRAND. Analyse bureau par bureau du scrutin chabeuillois.

Toujours une très bonne participation à Chabeuil pour ce deuxième tour des élections législatives, à 72,3 %, dans la moyenne de la 3e circonscription (75%). On rappelle qu'au deuxième tour de 2022, cette participation tournait autour des 50 %. L'écart est donc considérable, sans qu'on puisse dire à coup sûr quel camp politique a tiré parti de cette mobilisation.

Avant la très puérile dissolution de l'Assemblée Nationale par le président de la République, Marie Pochon était députée de la troisième circonscription de la Drôme, dont dépend Chabeuil. Elle avait été élue en 2022, mais avec un score chabeuillois qui la plaçait en deuxième position derrière la sortante macroniste de l'époque, Célia de Lavergne ( 43 % ). En 2024, elle fait sensiblement mieux et rassemble 2029 voix (52 %) contre Adhémar Autrand (1866 voix, soit 48 %), un inconnu localement (et partout ailleurs) qui représente la tendance ciottiste des Républicains, soutenue par le Rassemblement National en la personne de Philippe Dos Réis, son suppléant. Marie Pochon gagne 800 voix par rapport au premier tour (on verra plus bas d'où viennent ces voix supplémentaires), ce qui manifeste une belle progression. Dans le même temps, Adhémar Autrand quant à lui ne progresse que de 490 voix.

Hormis aux dernières européennes, jamais le Rassemblement National n'avait obtenu un aussi bon résultat à Chabeuil, jamais présent en tous cas au deuxième tour d'une législative ou de tout autre scrutin local (départementales, etc...) Le score solide d'Adhémar Autran est à mesurer à cette aune : le Rassemblement National progresse dans une ville qui oscille d'ordinaire entre centre gauche (Pertusa maire PS puis LaREM pendant de longs mandats) et droite républicaine (Mariton-LR député jadis bien implanté à Chabeuil). Si Marie Pochon arrive en tête à Chabeuil, il n'empêche qu'elle ne gagne que dans trois bureaux sur six, laissant les trois autres glisser vers le RN. En tête donc aux bureaux 1 et 2 (centre ancien et faubourg proche), très nettement et plus légèrement au bureau 4 (lotissements récents), Marie Pochon finit derrière dans les trois autres bureaux chabeuillois : bureau 2 (ville-campagne, direction Nord Est), bureau 3 (lotissements vieillissant et néanmoins centraux) et surtout hameau de Parlanges, au tropisme d'extrême-droite qui finit par se remarquer.

Incontestablement, Marie Pochon doit sa progression en voix à un très fort travail de campagne, tractages sur le marché à de nombreuses reprises, rencontres aux sorties d'école, porte-à-porte soutenus, etc... Les autres équipes en présence, celle notamment de son adversaire du deuxième tour ayant été tout à fait absente à ces rendez-vous d'explication, mais celle aussi d'Alban Pano, maire de Chabeuil, présent au premier tour (suppléant sur un ticket LR-stricto censu) mais arrivé quatrième en ville et donc sacqué au second tour, dont la campagne a été au bout du compte très faible, ont fait pâle figure devant la mobilisation des équipes de Marie Pochon. Ces dernières ont vu arriver en soutien de très nombreux volontaires. Ceux-là, et plus souvent encore celles-là, particulièrement soucieuses et soucieux de ne pas laisser le Rassemblement National venir à l'Assemblée nationale : ils et elles ont retourné Chabeuil et ses environs. Mêmes causes et mêmes effets dans les petites communes environnantes : Marie Pochon fait de bons résultats à Combovin (57%), Peyrus (57%), Châteaudouble (61,5 %), Barcelonne (59,5%), Ourches (58%), en somme tout le pays de La Raye, le long de la montagne, en descendant vers Crest. La prime bien sûr à La Baume Cornillane (65 %), haut lieu parpaillot et qui, à ce titre, ne vote ja-mais à droite.

Au total, Marie Pochon doit son élection au sud de sa circonscription, c'est très net, où elle semble maintenant intouchable tant ses soutiens (élus, associations, société civile) sont nombreux et où elle fait des scores spectaculaires (Die, Nyons, les Baronnies, Crest etc...) et où son travail parlementaire a eu un impact notable. Et un peu à Chabeuil...sans plus...où il a fallu aller chercher les voix, pour contenir le Rassemblement National.

Mais Marie Pochon, non moins incontestablement, en tous cas à Chabeuil, a bénéficié de bons reports de voix en provenance du centre macroniste. Lander Marchionni (Ensemble : majorité présidentielle, cornaqué par Bernard Buis, influent sénateur de la Drôme ) avait obtenu près de 800 voix au premier tour du 30 juin, bon score à Chabeuil, dans la stricte moyenne de la circonscription. Il pouvait se maintenir ; il s'est désisté très vite, dès le lundi qui suivait le premier tour, dans des termes très clairs, appelant à faire battre Autrand et Dos Réis. La clarté et la rapidité de ce désistement a permis à ses explications de bien passer dans son électorat : 800 voix, c'est précisément la marge de progression de Marie Pochon entre les deux tours à Chabeuil, sa réserve de voix. Au bureau 4 par exemple, Lander Marchionni faisait son meilleur score à Chabeuil, souvenir sans doute des très bons résultats ici de Célia De Lavergne en 2022. Or, Marie Pochon passe en tête au deuxième tour dans ce même bureau par ailleurs passablement droitiste, indice supplémentaire de ce bon report macroniste à Chabeuil.

A l'examen de ces reports de voix, on comprend que le front républicain, qui a été l'évènement marquant de ce deuxième tour dans tout le pays, a fonctionné à Chabeuil où l'imprégnation centro-macroniste n'a semble-t-il pas disparu. Et ce front républicain avait été précédé d'un autre front, populaire celui-là, facteur d'union à gauche, facteur de mobilisation. Cette mécanique, improvisée dans l'urgence d'une dissolution précipitée, a bien plutôt bien marché dans la troisième circonscription, à la surprise générale. A Chabeuil aussi.

Du mouvement politique qu'on vient de décrire, le parti LR-classic s'est abstrait. La formule était à ce propos : 'ni-ni', très en vogue dans la Drôme et le valentinois où la daragonie-LR avait fait passer la consigne : ni extrême droite, ni Pochon, puisque son alliance avec La France Insoumise, faisait d'elle une 'extrémiste'. Bon...sans commentaires. Alban Pano, maire de Chabeuil, est membre des instances locales des Républicains : il est délégué de ce parti dans la troisième circonscription. Il était par ailleurs suppléant de Patricia Picard, conseillère régionale des plus transparente, vaguement connue dans le secteur de Suze-la-Rousse ; à eux deux, ils ont fait un petit 8 % au premier tour dans la troisième circonscription. Faiblard, et pas de quoi se maintenir. Mais ils ont rassemblé un modeste 17,8 % (754 voix, ce qui les a placé à la quatrième place à Chabeuil, la ville donc du suppléant Pano). Perdants, ils ont appliqué au deuxième tour le mot d'ordre national de leur parti, amplifié et bétonné localement par Nicolas Daragon, le féodal du coin, ci-devant maire de Valence. Résultat, le 'ni-ni' du maire de Chabeuil a conduit à un accroissement considérable du nombre des bulletins blancs ou nuls en ville, portés à 406 voix, soit 9,4 %, du jamais vu. Voix nulles et blanches qui ont de fait manqué à Adhémar Autrand pour doubler Marie Pochon à Chabeuil, puisque l'écart de voix entre les deux n'est finalement que de 163 au deuxième tour. Doit l'avoir mauvaise, notre ciottiste. Mais on voit bien que le compte n'y est pas : toutes les voix LR-Classic ne sont pas restées bloquées dans le 'ni-ni' d'Alban Pano : nombre d'entre elles, un peu moins de la moitié, sont allées au RN au second tour. On pressent bien sûr que ce 'ni-ni', une posture d'appareil en somme, n'est qu'un fusil à un coup : les électeurs LR vont bien vite s'habituer à voter direct RN, pour s'assurer d'une efficacité électorale 'de droite'.

Bloqué par le 'ni-ni' de la droite classique, empêché par le désistement de Lander Marchionni, dépassé par la mobilisation à gauche, débordé par les efficaces alliances locales du Front populaire, Adhémar Autrand pourrait se bercer d'amertume, et l'avoir mauvaise, comme on disait tout à l'heure. Que non pas. Citation (Dauphiné Libéré du lundi ! juillet) : '...plus de 7000 nouvelles personnes [au 2e tour] nous ont fait confiance. Il y a une dynamique très forte qui s'est inscrite, annonciatrice de victoires futures. Il y a énormément de communes où on est arrivés en tête. En 2026, je le rappelle, il y a les municipales'. Et c'est donc signé par un LR-Ciotti, qui n'a plus politiquement qu'un objectif : bouffer localement les Républicains de stricte obédience, que leur ni-ni n'a (faiblement) protégé que de manière très éphémère.

Deux député.es de gauche dans la Drôme : Marie Pochon dans la troisième circonscription et Paul Christophle (PS, pour le Front populaire) dans la première, dont dépend Valence. Avec, pour ce dernier de très beaux scores à Valence-ville, qui vont sans aucun doute changer la donne pour les prochaines municipales, en tous cas à gauche. Versus deux députés d'extrême droite, à Montélimar et à Romans. A Romans le maintien imbécile et têtu d'Emmanuelle Anthoine, pourtant sortie en troisième position au premier tour, a finalement favorisé l'élection de Thibaut Monnier, proche de Marion Maréchal, premier élu RN dans une quatrième circonscription de la Drôme qu'elle lui a donc offert sur un plateau. Elle avait été élue à 58 % en 2022 ; elle chute maintenant très lourdement et parachève la défaite de LR-Drôme. Lucide, elle analyse très froidement la situation : 'il y a une porosité entre l'électorat LR et RN. C'est clair et net'. Dans la Drôme, LR et Nicolas Daragon prônaient un 'ni-ni'. Ils obtiennent un 'et-et' en forme de tenaille, entre gauche et RN. 'Porosité' il y eut, porosité il y aura...voir comment ça va se manifester à Chabeuil...

claude meunier

[toutmontbeliard-com]

Elections législatives 2024 : réaction des Ecologistes du Nord-Franche-Comté

Les Ecologistes du Nord-Franche-Comté réagissent aux résultats du 1er tour des Elections législatives 2024 (notre info "Elections législatives 2024, 3ème circonscription du Doubs : les résultats du 1er tour" et notre info "Elections législatives 2024, 4ème circonscription du Doubs : les résultats du 1er tour") : "Quel calcul les anime ? Est-ce de la lâcheté ? De la proximité avec les idées du parti d'extrême droite ? Alors que l’extrême droite est à la porte du pouvoir, certains membres de la majorité présidentielle (B. Le Maire, A. Bergé…) ou des Républicains ne donnent pas de consigne claire pour le second tour. C'est très grave car chaque député RN élu de plus peut donner la majorité au parti de la haine, du mensonge, du rejet et du tri des français. Que deviendra notre pays géré par l’extrême droite ? Qu’en sera-t-il de la liberté de la presse, de la place des femmes dans notre pays, de la situation de salariés, de la nécessaire transition écologique, de notre rôle et notre image à l'international ? L'heure est grave, seul un large rassemblement démocrate et républicain peut nous protéger, et lutter. Pour les Écologistes, il n’y a aucune ambiguïté et un seul mot d'ordre : voter pour le candidat qui se tient face au RN : 3ème circonscription du Doubs Nicolas PACQUOT LaRem ; 4ème circonscription du Doubs Magali DUVERNOIS PS – NFP. Aucune voix ne doit manquer". Read the full article

[pudzianvsszpilkaktowygra]

Jakie są aktualne kursy zakładów na zwycięzcę głównej walki na Fame MMA 20?

🎰🎲✨ Darmowe 2,250 złotych i 200 darmowych spinów kliknij! ✨🎲🎰

Jakie są aktualne kursy zakładów na zwycięzcę głównej walki na Fame MMA 20?

Najnowsza edycja gali Fame MMA 20 wzbudziła ogromne zainteresowanie fanów mieszanych sztuk walki oraz zakładów bukmacherskich. W związku z nadchodzącym wydarzeniem, wielu graczy poszukuje aktualnych kursów na poszczególne starcia. Obecnie większość zakładów bukmacherskich oferuje bogatą ofertę obstawiania wszystkich pojedynków z karty Fame MMA 20.

Na gali Fame MMA 20 zobaczymy wiele ekscytujących starć, w tym pojedynki takich jak: Łukasz "Juras" Jurkowski vs. Dawid "Cygan" Malczyński, Said Shavershian vs. Konrad Kubacki czy Adrian Polak vs. Bartek Rękawek. Każde z tych starć przyciąga uwagę fanów i graczy, których emocje sięgają zenitu podczas obstawiania wyników.

Aktualne kursy zakładów na Fame MMA 20 są bardzo zróżnicowane i zależą od wielu czynników, takich jak formę zawodników, statystyki ich walk czy nawet popularność wśród widzów. Dzięki dynamicznej naturze MMA oraz specyfice tego wydarzenia, kursy mogą ulegać zmianom aż do ostatniej chwili przed rozpoczęciem gali.

Aby obstawić swojego faworyta w konkretnym starciu, warto śledzić aktualizacje kursów oraz analizy ekspertów, które pomogą podjąć trafną decyzję. Galę Fame MMA 20 można więc nie tylko oglądać dla emocji sportowych, ale także wziąć udział w rywalizacji obstawiania i cieszyć się dodatkową dawką adrenaliny. Oto więc idealna okazja dla fanów MMA i zakładów bukmacherskich, aby połączyć swoje pasje i uczestniczyć w wyjątkowym wydarzeniu sportowym.

Zakłady na zwycięzcę walki Fame MMA 20 to temat, który wzbudza duże zainteresowanie wśród fanów sportów walki. Fame MMA to popularna polska organizacja zawierająca pojedynki celebrytów i influencerów, która przyciąga uwagę tysięcy widzów. Przed każdym wydarzeniem zakłady bukmacherskie oferują możliwość obstawiania zwycięzcy poszczególnych pojedynków.

Fame MMA 20 obiecuje emocjonujące starcia i niezwykłe wyzwania dla uczestników. Oczywiście fani nie mogą się doczekać, aby zobaczyć, kto wyjdzie zwycięsko z ringu. Dzięki zakładom bukmacherskim mogą również aktywniej uczestniczyć w wydarzeniu, obstawiając swoich ulubionych zawodników i ciesząc się z ich sukcesów.

Przed dokonaniem zakładu warto dobrze zastanowić się nad formą zawodników, ich dotychczasowymi wynikami i umiejętnościami. Analiza statystyk oraz taktyka mogą pomóc w podjęciu najlepszej decyzji. Zakładając na zwycięzcę walki Fame MMA 20, należy pamiętać o odpowiedzialnej grze i rozsądnym kontrolowaniu swoich środków.

Fame MMA 20 zapowiada się jako niezwykłe wydarzenie, które przyciągnie uwagę fanów sportów walki na całym świecie. Zakłady na zwycięzcę walki dodają dodatkowego smaku emocjom towarzyszącym pojedynkom. Każdy może poczuć się jak prawdziwy zawodnik, mając możliwość obstawiania swojego faworyta i kibicowania mu aż do ostatniej sekundy walki. Warto więc śledzić rozwój sytuacji i emocje towarzyszące Fame MMA 20, aby w pełni cieszyć się tą sportową pasją.

Niedawno ogłoszono trzy główne walki na nadchodzącym evencie Fame MMA 20, który już teraz wzbudza duże emocje wśród fanów mieszanych sztuk walki. Pierwsza z zaplanowanych walk to starcie między Marcinem Najmanem a Rafałem "Kikim" Ratajczakiem. Obaj zawodnicy są znani z agresywnego stylu walki i zapowiadają widowiskowy pojedynek. Kolejną emocjonującą walką będzie starcie pomiędzy Damianem Kądziołą a Maciejem "Szortem" Ratajewskim. Obydwaj zawodnicy posiadają duże umiejętności techniczne, co sugeruje, że walka ta będzie pełna dynamicznych wymian.

Trzecią główną walką będzie pojedynek pomiędzy Maciejem "Nocnym" Polokiem a Tomaszem "Larem" Osweilm. Oboje zawodnicy mają już na swoim koncie udane występy w klatce i obaj chcą udowodnić swoją przewagę nad rywalem. Spodziewana jest zacięta walka na najwyższym poziomie, która może zaskoczyć wielu fanów.

Fame MMA 20 obiecuje zapewnić emocje i widowisko na najwyższym poziomie, a walki na główną galę zapowiadają się niezwykle interesująco. Fani będą mieli okazję zobaczyć pojedynki pomiędzy doświadczonymi zawodnikami, którzy z pewnością dadzą z siebie wszystko, aby zapewnić niezapomniane show. Czy organizatorzy zdołają sprostać oczekiwaniom publiczności? Tego dowiemy się już niedługo, kiedy Fame MMA 20 odbędzie się na żywo w telewizji i w serwisie streamingowym. Będzie to niezapomniana noc dla fanów sportów walki!

Zakłady bukmacherskie na wydarzenia sportowe, takie jak galę Fame MMA 20, cieszą się coraz większym zainteresowaniem wśród fanów sportów walki. Fame MMA 20 to kolejna edycja popularnej gali, na którą fani czekają z niecierpliwością. Dla osób, które chcą podkręcić emocje podczas oglądania walk, zakłady bukmacherskie są doskonałą rozrywką i sposobem na sprawdzenie swojej wiedzy o sportach walki.

Fame MMA 20 zapowiada się jako emocjonujące wydarzenie, które przyciąga uwagę zarówno doświadczonych kibiców, jak i nowych entuzjastów sportów walki. Możliwość obstawiania wyników pojedynków dodaje dodatkowego smaczku i adrenaliny do oglądania gali. Warto zaznaczyć, że zakłady bukmacherskie na Fame MMA 20 dostępne są u wielu legalnych i renomowanych firm bukmacherskich, co daje pewność uczestnikom, że ich stawki są bezpieczne i legalne.

Przed zawarciem zakładów warto dokładnie analizować formę i statystyki zawodników, aby podjąć trafną decyzję. Specjaliści od zakładów bukmacherskich często oferują również szeroki zakres typów zakładów, od zwycięstwa danego zawodnika po to, w jakiej rundzie zakończy się pojedynek. Dzięki temu można skorzystać z różnorodnych opcji i dostosować swoje zakłady do własnych preferencji.

W przypadku zakładów bukmacherskich na Fame MMA 20 warto pamiętać o umiarkowaniu i odpowiedzialności. Odpowiednie planowanie zakładów może zapewnić nie tylko dodatkową rozrywkę, ale także szansę na ciekawe wygrane. Zachęcamy do śledzenia informacji dotyczących gali i dokładnej analizy przed zawarciem zakładów, aby uczynić oglądanie Fame MMA 20 jeszcze bardziej ekscytującym przeżyciem.

Fame MMA 20 to długo oczekiwane wydarzenie dla fanów sportów walki. Zanim rozpocznie się widowisko, warto zapoznać się z różnymi typami zakładów, które można zawierać na takiej imprezie.

Pierwszym typem zakładu jest typowanie zwycięzcy pojedynku. Możemy obstawiać, który z zawodników zostanie ogłoszony zwycięzcą walki. Jest to najpopularniejszy rodzaj zakładu wśród fanów sportów walki.

Kolejnym ciekawym typem zakładu jest stawianie na sposób zakończenia walki. Możemy obstawić, czy pojedynek zakończy się przez nokaut, poddanie czy decyzję sędziów. To z pewnością daje dodatkowe emocje podczas oglądania walki.

Innym typem zakładu jest stawianie na liczbę rund w pojedynku. Możemy obstawić, czy walka zakończy się przed czasem, czy też dojdzie do decyzji sędziów po pełnym czasie trwania pojedynku.

Dodatkowo, możemy postawić zakład na liczbę nokautów w całej gali. To ciekawa opcja dla osób szukających większych emocji i większych wygranych.

Ostatnim typem zakładu, o którym warto wspomnieć, jest obstawianie ilości punktów karanych zawodnikom przez sędziów. Możemy obstawiać, czy któryś z zawodników zostanie ukarany punktami lub nawet zdyskwalifikowany.

Podsumowując, Fame MMA 20 to nie tylko emocjonujące wydarzenie sportowe, ale także doskonała okazja do zawierania różnorodnych zakładów bukmacherskich. Dla fanów sportów walki to doskonała okazja, aby sprawdzić swoją wiedzę i uczestniczyć w jeszcze większym stopniu w tej pasjonującej rywalizacji.

[transthomastaylor]

Fīlia adest citior, quam ōlim medicīna probāvit,

incōnsulta tamen forte puella viget.

Quam tūtārentur piscēs, sī tempora vellent,

haec pulchrī cūrae mox Ganymēdis erit.

Cōnsōbrīna, vidē, nē mundō parva gravēris,

nēve jugī patiēns asperī adulta gemās;

sed laetāre magis, gaudē: Fortūna juvābit!

Nī valet ops, genium dīves amōre litā.

Quem genium dīcō, quī nātam jūverit īnsōns?

(Quum Lūcīna suō tempore grāta juvet,

post genitūram autem quem sponte litābis amandō?)

Sincērō vestrum dīlige corde larem.

Ille tuam mātrem, patrem, Lūnamque tuētur;

cuj lar erit cārus, cārior ipsa domus.

I’m writing this elegiac poem (original) for my prematurely born cousin born a few hours ago, but I’m really unsure about how much of this is worth keeping. I originally wanted to end it with couplet 4, but I wanted to have the genius be a lar (as an exhortation for her to love her family), and I couldn’t quite make it fit with the other parts staying the same. So I guess my question is whether the lines after that are worth it at all?

I like the part about Lucina since the birth went well and could’ve gone really, really badly, so a reference to the birth seems called for (I wrote the first part before the birth), but I feel like some of the lar talk is veering into actual religious text more than cool epic classical reference. Not sure if that would be acceptable to my generally religion-shy countrymen. I also like lines 12 and 14 a lot.

Any advice would be greatly appreciated (could be completely abstract or hyperspecific, or whatever) :333

[mongolitofragola]

Loi Immigration: après la lourde défaite, Larem au bord de l'implosion ?...

[triskhellion]

20 Questions for fic writers

Tagged by @dear-massacre

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Twenty-one. Twenty fics and one weird standalone soundtrack, lol.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

195,750.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Teen Wolf so far, but I maybe I'll get around to some ideas I have for The Sandman or something else one day.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Thunder (Sterek. 12.1k. Explicit. Depressed loner Derek meets on-the-run Werefox/Kitsune Stiles in rural Montana.)

The Cold Moon (Sterek, 40.6k. Explicit. Part one of a story where Stiles is forced across a mysterious boundary by Hunters and encounters a semi-feral Alpha Derek. My first published fic.)

Second Chance Strays (Sterek, 8.5k. Explicit. Mage Stiles, Derek, & Larem the deer alone in the wilderness. A Fuck or Die situation ensues when a darach attacks.)

CLAIM! (Sterek, 11.9k, Explicit. Misunderstandings and making up after Derek & Stiles meet at Jungle and hook-up.)

Customer Service (Sterek, 10.9k. Explicit. Surly barista omega Derek and human college student Stiles. Banter, vulgar latte art, and heat sex. Dominant Derek, Service Top Stiles.)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! Sometimes it takes a while, but comments are appreciated and I know I like getting responses.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I guess Amīca (Derissa) because it's an unresolved pre-relationship fic that's meant to be the first In a series. I've been a happy ending gal, so no real angsty ones so far. The angst is in the beginning and/or middle!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The rest of them? 😂

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't yet. Knocks on wood.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. Most of my fics have smut at some point, lol. Or belong to series that do/will.

Um, barebacking and creampie/breeding. Cum eating or play and marking in general, including hickeys and biting.

Virgin/first time bottoming, praise kink, light degradation, and knotting are also in a number of stories. Some spanking, bondage and pinning, and generally low-key dominance and submission. Chasing and claiming and a few omegaverse or just self-lubrication. (I have plans for more.)

All M/M or M/M/M so far, but I have WIPs and notes with other combinations. I have a bunch of Kinktober bits from 2022 to turn into fics that I'm both nervous and excited about. And lots of other ideas too.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not yet, but I have a summary for a Sterek Teen Wolf/The Sandman crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. Sounds both fun and kinda scary.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Sterek is what finally got me into fanfiction and the whole shipping fandom thing a few years ago, so I gotta go with them. I enjoy a bunch of others from Teen Wolf too (especially Steter, Stetopher, and Sterek + various people) and from other fandoms.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I currently intend to finish all my WIPs, but who knows what the future will hold. I have 3 posted WIPs that I definitely plan to complete: The Wolf Moon, The Depths, and 15 Shades of Red. I have dozens of unposted ones that I also hope to finish...eventually.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Apparently dialogue, world building, characters' inner thoughts, and being funny sometimes. Coming up with ideas.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Epithets. It's just tricky when the characters have the same pronouns and I hate writing their names over and over. (I don't mind when other people do it though, so 🤷🏽‍♀️. But then I'll be like, "I can't say Derek three times in this paragraph!")

I've started looking for ones to remove whenever I edit now (and I'm cringing thinking about earlier stories that I should re-edit at some point,) but I still use some and am self-conscious about it.

Also, sometimes I info dump, but that doesn't bother me so much. Boom, here's a bunch of background now let's get on with it, lol.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've used a few words in Polish here and there in some stories, but I probably wouldn't try to write whole conversations in another language unless I was familiar with it or could ask someone about it.

There's some Patois/Patwah in Irie, which was interesting to write because there's no one set spelling of many words, so it was part looking at common ones and part "What did it sound like/how was it phrased when this relative or family friend said something like this?"

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I vaguely recall thinking up scenes, dialogue, background, etc, for a story with Byakuya Kuchiki/Shūhei Hisagi from Bleach approximately 5 billion years ago when I was a teenager, but I don't remember if I ever actually wrote anything. Definitely didn't finish or publish anything. So...Teen Wolf.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Hmm. I can't say that I have a favorite. I only started actually writing from my list of fic ideas around 16 months ago, IIRC. Maybe if I look back on them all after enough time passes I'll be able to pick one out (though knowing me...still probably not,) but right now they're all just...floating around in my head and also mixed with the particular experiences of writing them, idk.

Here's a recent one that was fun to write:

Legs (Sterek, 4.3k. Explicit. Snark and smut after college students Derek and Werecreature Stiles cross paths at the mall.)

If you want to play along, tag, you're it!

[latinlizard]

Catullus 31

Willem Basse Alexander the Great and Neptune, 1634

Paene insularum, Sirmio, insularumque of the almost islands, Sirmius, and the isalnds ocelle, quascumque in liquentibus stagnis you are a jewel, whatever clear lakes and marique uasto fert uterque Neptunus, vast sees that Neptune carries, quam te libenter quamque laetus inuiso, how gladly and how happy i see you, uix mi ipse credens Thuniam atque Bithunos me barely believing myself to have left Thyssia and the Bithynin islands liquisse campos et uidere te in tuto. and to see you in a safe place. o quid solutis est beatius curis, oh what is more for blissful than when you're freed, cum mens onus reponit, ac peregrino when your mind lays aside it's burdens, and from foreign

labore fessi uenimus larem ad nostrum, labour tired we come to the household god of ours, desideratoque acquiescimus lecto? and we rest in our desired bed? hoc est quod unum est pro laboribus tantis. this is the one thing that is for such great labours. salue, o uenusta Sirmio, atque ero gaude hello, o charming Sirmio, and so rejoice in gaudente, uosque, o Lydiae lacus undae, rejoicing, and you, O Lydian waves of the lake, ridete quidquid est domi cachinnorum. laugh at whatever it is of laughter at home.

[infotox-le-mag]

Cet individu a mis Macron complètement HORS DE LUI

Quand depuis 2017, E. Macron était présenté par De Bredevan (L'INFOTOX) comme un enfant gâté devenu roi de France et consul du "Machin UE", on pouvait encore, du moins lors du premier mandat, douter de cette description qui sous-entendait que cet homme était plus Narcisse que Jupiter, et que face à ceux qui oseraient le contredire, il se montrerait cassant, arrogant voire méprisant. Même si pour observer ce trait de caractère, il n'a pas fallu attendre longtemps quand un certain chef des armées jusqu'alors respecté de tous, Général P. de Villiers, qui avait osé émettre publiquement quelques remarques au chef suprême fut, fort peu courtoisement, publiquement viré sine die!. Et ce ne sont pas les démonstrations autocratiques qui ont manqué tant à l'égard de ses opposants, de ses ex soutiens, que des citoyens gratifiés de quelques surnoms peu amènes. Mais comme déjà écrit précédemment, ce sera la crise Covid qui, pour les dirigeants des pays membres du "Machin UE" confié à la non élue (en toute démocratie, bien entendu) U. Von der Leyen, agira comme un révélateur, qui sera le déclic leur faisant comprendre que soumettre, avec un soutien complice car sans débat des "experts" médias, tous les citoyens à une série de contraintes et d'obligations liberticides... en leur collant le label bienveillant de , leur permettait subitement de s'assurer un pouvoir sans partage, sans contestation. A ce titre, E. Macron, cette fois plus consul du "Machin UE" que roi de France fait figure d'exemple à suivre, de maître absolu de la propagande "politiquement correcte" qu'il déploie progressivement lors de son deuxième mandat (deuxième et non second vu que certain(e)s rêvent d'un inédit troisième!). Ne citons que deux exemples: - Pour les "élites" au pouvoir, la première opposition politique est un ramassis d'élu(e)s néofascistes, de racistes au sein d'un parti qui, pour les plus rageux du gouvernement se nomme non pas RN mais FN. "En même temps" quand leur parti a en 4ans épuisé les étiquettes de EM, LREM, LaREM puis Renaissance, excusons ces nouveaux "Renés" de confondre les noms d'un autre parti... Sachant que, plus sérieusement, pour ces "républicains" au raisonnement simpliste, caricatural affiché, décomplexé, les électeurs du RN ne sont que des gens peu instruits, des idiots complotistes, en somme comme l'étaient ces anti"vax" sans quoi, vous imaginez bien qu'ils seraient assez intelligents pour voter pour le parti...du pouvoir!. - Pour les "élites" au pouvoir, les réseaux sociaux, dernier voire seul espace de liberté... d'opinions pour les citoyens, sont dès Juillet 2023, grâce à T. Breton ("Machin UE"), sous contrôle des gardiens de la pensée non pas unique mais "politiquement correcte" qui, soucieux de défendre leur liberté... d'expression, ici encore avec la bienveillante complicité des médias dont les intérêts en matière de diffusion choisie des informations sont mutuels, veilleront à ce que chacun respecte le règlement UE sous peine de sanctions.