#young devante

[mrjellybeanz]

BK Hip Hop Artist Infamous Ty Glosses In #TooMuchSauce (Video)

BK Hip Hop Artist Infamous Ty Glosses In #TooMuchSauce (Video)

Infamous Ty, a vetted rapper representing BK announces the release of his new video #TooMuchSauce The video is produced by Young Devante and shot by Not Common Films. A strikingly dramatic backdrop heightens Ty’s lyrical swag, infectious vibes, and his signature high-energy performance. In the video, audiences will see Ty in his natural element with the mic and pleasing the crowd. “When I step on…

[chic-a-gigot]

Cover details

La Mode nationale, no. 36, 11 septembre 1897, Paris. No. 1. — Chapeau de jeune femme. Bibliothèque nationale de France

No. 1. — Chapeau de jeune femme en feutre gris, s'abattant légèrement sur le front en relevant sur les côtés. Devant, grande plume d'autruche très frisée et couchée. Sur le côté, nœud de velours noir, retenu au milieu par une boucle de strass et cachant le pied d'une autre plume blanche, retombant sur le côté; voilette de tulle blanc.

No. 1. — Young lady's hat in gray felt, falling slightly on the forehead and rising at the sides. In front, large ostrich feather, very curly and lying down. On the side, black velvet bow, held in the middle by a rhinestone loop and hiding the foot of another white feather, falling on the side; white tulle veil.

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Elle est là, ses cheveux longs détachés, en sous-vêtements devant la prestigieuse université islamique Azad de Téhéran, en Iran. Cette étudiante, dont l'identité est inconnue, a été interpellée samedi 2 novembre 2024 après avoir manifesté contre le harcèlement des forces de sécurité de l'établissement. 

Armin Arefi, informe qu'elle aurait été frappée à la tête, ce qui aurait provoqué une hémorragie. 

Ahou Daryaei la jeune femme inscrite dans l'unité de Science et de Recherche de l'établissement, a été importunée parce qu'elle ne portait pas de maghnaeh, ce tissu noir couvrant la tête, le front, le menton et la poitrine, obligatoire dans les universités. D'autres médias iraniens précisent que les forces de sécurité et la milice bassidi, cette force paramilitaire composée d'hommes et de femmes placés sous le contrôle des pasdaran, lui auraient ensuite déchiré son hijab inapproprié et ses vêtements.

Ahou Daryaei, a young woman enrolled in the institution's Science and Research Unit, was harassed because she was not wearing a maghnaeh, a black cloth covering the head, forehead, chin and chest, which is mandatory in universities. Other Iranian media reports state that security forces and the Basidi militia, a paramilitary force of men and women under the control of the Revolutionary Guards, then tore off her inappropriate hijab and her clothes.

[roeroe-world]

teach me.

starring: elindasan as shanice, devante swing as himself

set in 1993.

warning: not much plot, detailed smut, mentions of drugs, use of profanity

The lights in the musician’s home studio were dim as per usual. A clad of unique instruments of different colors, shapes, and sizes were displayed neatly within the spacious area. Being a part of the successful R&B band, Jodeci, means there were a lot of accolades. Gold and platinum records hung on the walls, showcasing the quartet’s hardwork and dedication.

Mistakenly, the young woman’s manicured index finger hits the wrong piano key. A snort is heard from her as she attempts to play the notes yet again. Her dainty hands pressed against the piano keys smoothly, finally playing the melody her boyfriend had been trying to teach her for the past two hours.

“There you go, baby.” DeVante sends her a nod of approval.

On this specific day, Shanice decided she wanted to learn to play the piano. Her boyfriend being a musician was a perk because he could literally teach her to play any instrument. But it wasn’t easy.

It takes a lot of patience when it comes to Shanice. She isn’t a fast learner like he is or wanted her to be. If she wasn’t his girlfriend, he would’ve given up before they even started.

Thinking she’d got it, unexpectedly, she hit the wrong key. A loud, abrupt sound meeting their eardrums, resulting in the couple to cringe. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, mentally thanking himself for smoking a blunt before returning home. “…Shanice, Shanice…” DeVante was growing impatient. “We’ll continue tomorrow. Aight?”

“Baby, I want to do this now.” She whines similar to a child earning a heavy sigh.

“Shanice, I just got home from the studio. I been working all day. I’m high, tired, and hungry.”

Despite possessing an at home studio, DeVante would work at another recording studio. He worked with a plethora of other artists so he couldn’t invite just anyone in his home anymore especially given that Shanice moved in a year ago.

With an eye roll, “You used that same excuse last time. To this day, you still haven’t really taught me to play your electric guitar.” She was gaining an attitude and so was he. Both were highly frustrated. “I know how busy you are but the least you can do is teach me the piano. Come on, D.”

His deep hazel orbs pierced into her direction, sending her a look infused with irritation and annoyance. She was a beautiful woman whom sure could work his nerves. Though, DeVante couldn’t help but think how funny life can be.

Shanice began to work as a receptionist at Uptown Records in ‘91. Her looks and hourglass frame garnered much attention from the male artists yet she never gave either of them a chance. He thought his chances were slim to none as well so he wrote a ballad inspired by her titled, Come And Talk To Me. If he couldn’t say it then he’ll write a song about it.

Before the track was released and became a worldwide hit, he let her listen and the expression etched across her captivating canvas read nothing but pure amazement. “Wow…” was all she could say.

A proud smirk was etched across his pink lips, “What you think?”

“I loved it.” She replied, fighting her smile.

He finally gained the courage to do what he’d been aching to do for the longest. “…love it enough to let me take you out?”

And so she did.

Two years later, here they were. Still a couple and living together. At times, he couldn’t believe he had ‘the fine receptionist’ in his bed. She was still as fine as ever and she was still his. He knew some of the guys at the label envied him because she was on his arm. He didn’t give a fuck.

Their relationship hasn’t always been perfect. Sometimes they were on, sometimes they were off. His feelings for her never changed in the midst of their issues. He loved her and he couldn’t say that for all of the women he’d been romantically involved with.

After moments of contemplating, “Aight. Imma show you one last time.” His plate in the microwave was calling his name. “This ain’t something you can learn overnight, baby.” He shoots her an arrogant wink.

Shanice’s dark brown swirling irises observed him lifting his arms to plant his long and thick crooked fingers against the keys to create a beautiful melody. The way he played the piano— any instrument was effortless. He could write, produce, play instruments, and sing. He was a genius in her eyes. DeVante inspired her in more ways than one and he didn’t even know it.

Observing his fingers closely, she began to scan the side of canvas. His eyelids were shut as his head moved from side to side, indicating that he was becoming engrossed in the melody he curated.

DeVante was a very talented man and on top of that, gorgeous. He had it going on. Women went crazy over him and she saw why, she saw it every day. She wakes up with him. Shanice was living every girl’s dream.

She too was engrossed… but it was for something else.

“D…” The young woman began, her tone of voice dropping and transitioning into sultry. Her left dainty hand sliding across his thigh to grip his member through his dark sweats.

Instantly, the musician stops what he’s doing. The moment his head turns in her direction, she plants a plethora of loving pecks against his lips. His masculine hands sliding along her back while hers gripped each side of his captivating canvas. Soon the pecks grew into a passionate kiss, their tongues dancing around one another’s harmoniously.

Shanice climbed onto his lap, her clothed wetness grinding against his hardened clothed member in a circular motion.

The musician disconnects their lips, “You ever made love against a piano?”

“Unh, unh.” She smiles brightly, her fingers twirling his little curls. They’ve made love countless of times, in many places, some strange. But on a piano? Never.

“Let’s change that.”

In a swift movement, he lifts her upward by her thick thighs as he stands to his feet and sits the beauty on top of the instrument. Her top row of pearly whites digging into her bottom lip, watching her boyfriend slide her panties along her smooth glowing chocolate legs. His hazel irises darkening in arousal at the sight of how wet she was and he barely even touched her.

Lustfully, she watches his tall frame lower between her widened legs. His arms wrapping around her thick thighs so she couldn’t run. Shanice was trapped into his tight embrace.

DeVante didn’t have to touch her for her to get turned on. All he had to do was give her that look and she would melt, willing to do any and everything in an instant. He had her wrapped around his finger and so did she. No matter how many arguments and fights they’d get into, they would never leave each other alone.

Soft and wet.

That’s how she felt in his mouth. Her taste was sweet like honey, essence dripping along his chin. “Mm,” His baritone groans against the woman, earning a plethora of soft moans before her lips widened growing speechless as two of his crooked fingers entered her warm walls.

“Shit, D…” Her manicured left hand grips his box fade as the other held onto the edge of the large black piano for balance. The musician was making her melt, inside and out, especially in his mouth.

“That’s it. Gimme more, baby.” His soaked fingers skillfully digging in and out of the woman’s tightness. He sucked, licked and kissed as if it was his most prized possession.

Shanice’s juices were never ending. DeVante’s hunger quickly diminished as she fed him, slowly grinding herself against his beautiful face. Her jaw agape, completely speechless. He was eating her like he hadn’t eaten in days, though, it had been hours since he’s had a meal.

Clearly, Shanice was his meal for now.

He couldn’t get enough of her. He never could. Her taste, her show-stopping love faces, her moans, the way her juicy lips would fall open as that little squeaky sound passed her throat. DeVante lived for every single moment of pleasuring his woman.

His piercing light orbs staring a hole into hers while she stared downward in his direction, perfectly arched eyebrows furrowing together while she threw her head backward occasionally. At times, her eyes would roll to the back of her skull, giving him a clear indication of how well of a job he’s doing.

“Fuck..” She releases the pent up sensation within her stomach without warning.

Smirking, he stands to his feet, “We not done yet.” Their eye contact intense. Though he could tell her orgasm left her a bit exhausted.

Soon, every single article of their clothing were on the floor. They were kissing on one another’s tattoos as DeVante gave her deep, breathtaking strokes. The sound of skin slapping, heavy breathing, and loud moans filled the musician’s spacious home studio.

“Look at me.” Gaining a tight grip onto her neck, he forces her attention on him. His deep voice meeting her eardrums immediately results in the young woman’s top row of pearly whites to dig into her bottom lip.

Her right leg upon his shoulder for more access, diving deeper much to her pleasure. She was in complete bliss, speechless. Glossy eyeballs peering upward at her man as he fucked her so good. His thick, long member always hit spots that left her eyes rolling to the back of her skull and screaming to the most high.

The feeling of her warm walls hugging his phallus drove him mad, his strokes grew increasingly rougher. As speechless as DeVante was making her, the pace of his hips were making her grow more vocal. She was growing louder and louder, screaming to the top of her lungs. Luckily, they were alone in their shared spacious luxurious mansion.

“You feel so good, baby…” He groans, pressing his sweaty forehead against hers.

“You too,” A helpless moan escaping her lips, caressing the skin of his back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… ouu, fuck!” Shanice bends backward, back shivering at the coldness of the top of the piano as she laid against the instrument, taking him like a good girl. Her dainty manicured hands gripping her breasts, a fucked out expression etched across her canvas.

“D, ah…” The beauty loses her train of thought, completely and solely lost on the fact that his dick was diving in and out of her. He was so hard, long enough to hit that well needed gummy spot that left her legs shaking.

“Make a mess. Yeah, just like that, sexy.” His deep baritone encouraged her as she squirted uncontrollably, juices spilling along his pelvic area. She was so wet that she was dripping down his legs.

A plethora of high-pitched whines passed her widened lips and DeVante’s top row of pearly whites embedded into his bottom lip, observing the woman lying in front of his standing frame losing her mind. Her large breasts bounced intensely along with each stroke, her gushiness curating a prominent macaroni sound.

Shanice could feel him pulsating inside of her walls, indicating that he was close. “Gimme your babies, D.” Their eyes connected and the minute it did, the couple never looked away from one another. “I want every drop inside of me— shit—”

He knew that she wasn’t thinking clearly but he took what she said seriously.

“I love you, baby…” He breathes heavily, meaning every word he said.

“I— I love you so much. Hmm…” She drags out, eyelids shutting in pure pleasure before admiring the sight of where their intertwined bodies met. “Shit. I love this dick.”

Shanice was drunk off of the musician’s dick, letting out raunchy moans and pornographic screams before releasing yet again without warning. Meanwhile, DeVante’s pink lips hung open slightly as he focused on her reaction. Though, she’d gotten hers already… he wasn’t going to stop whether she liked it or not.

“Fuck…” He curses aloud, feeling his orgasm approaching. His strokes grew rougher and rougher earning several helpless whimpers.

“D… oh yes… come. Just come for me.” As encouraged, he did and spilled every single drop of his semen inside of his girlfriend’s warm walls. Both of their bodies shook at the sensation, their mouths falling agape in ecstasy in unison.

Silence falls between the couple until DeVante breaks it, his nasally baritone speaking, “You can have as many piano lessons as you want.”

Smiling weakly, “Electric guitar too?” Hope filling her low tone of voice.

“Acoustic, electric, whatever. You name it, baby.”

In response, Shanice just giggles. She was ecstatic that he was finally going to teach her.

[hilziger]

ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: 𝓢𝓘𝓝𝓝𝓔𝓡𝓢 + 𝓢𝓐𝓘𝓝𝓣𝓢 (fucktober horror nights ft Cody Rhodes )

1:18  ───|──────── 2:53

|◁              II             ▷|

∞                 ↺

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

WARNINGS: [ sexual acts done in a church, thick black reader, sunshine x grumpy relationship trope, pet names, praise and shaming kink, slutty asf !, (sexual nun costume (?) explicit themes, degrading kink.]

Taglist[ @juceynightmare @southerngirl41 @technicallymiaa comment to be added (:] shout out to technicallymiaa cause this is inspired by a devante swing imagine she wrote which was SO MF GOOD OMFG.

❝ TAKE YOU DOWN ANOTHER LEVEL

GOT YOU DANCIN WITH THE DEVIL.❞

The streets felt like they were spinning as the young girl strolled the breezy fall sidewalk drunkenly as she finally reached the back steps of the chapel. Her feet were aching in pain and her head pounded with the pink Whitney she consumed as she leaned against the door to catch her breathe for a moment.

“ugh I wished Cody could've came with me” she pouted to herself, she went to this Halloween party alone due to this last-minute trunk or treat Cody had to host for the kids at his stepfather's Catholic church, she felt slightly upset but not for long as she had a pretty decent time at this function. She opened the back door walked inside and up three small steps before her eyes met the back of Cody's head and body seated at the piano.

The sounds of her kitten heels echoed throughout the chapel as she slowly approached him wrapping her arms around the male's slightly buffed frame. “Had fun?” he asked his eyes not coming off a program pamphlet he must have made earlier today, the women drunkenly giggled before kissing his cheek lightly, “Once the drinks started flowing yes, but it would've been so much better with you there codes” her speech was slurred before she removed herself from him placing her small purse ontop of the Grand piano.

“Well you know I have my duties here darling, I wasn't really expecting this to come up but you know my mom and how she loves throwing me into things” he took his visions off the paper for a brief second as he looked at the women he proudly called his girlfriend, she looked captivating as usual but something caused codys heart to pause. A nun costume? Your Brown luminescent skin glistened under the stage light from the cocoa butter and body lava she frequently put on.

the gown stopped just above her knees, her hair was in a slick back puff but the hood still draped her head, and lastly, her glossy, sticky black lip gloss coated her plumped lips, Cody was lost for words as Y/n went inside her mini purse to pull out a cherry jolly rancher to suck on, all he could think was sinister, wicked things he wanted to do to her in this insane costume.

A nun?

A nun?

Nun?

NUN

Nun…..?!

“Hellloooo?? Earth to Cody” She waved her hands in his face snapping him out of his mini trance, his eyes examined her briefly before arching his eyebrow. “ care to explain your outfit?” she spun and twirled lazily around him giggling before she stood in between his legs, “well I wore it as a joke for you if you would've came but you know how that ended up” she shrugged before returning over to the piano leaning against it.

Cody rolled his eyes feeling the annoyance creep into him as she continued her games with him, he knew she played too much but to this degree? Walking in here at this hour of the night mocking nuns and sisters? He wanted to be mad but his body burned and his dick swelled up at the thought of bending you over relentlessly and taking you so sinfully in the middle of the moonlit church.

“You think you’re so amusing huh?” He taunted slowly getting up and walking towards her to trap her body against the piano. Her black acrylic nails grabbed lightly at Cody’s baby pink satin tie, looking up at him both innocently yet lustfully as if she were non verbally asking to get fucked right then and there, “ shamefully I’ve sorta wanted to dress as a cute nun nothing more” a sly smirk plastered her face feeling the grip Cody had on her waist slightly get tighter, “you and your games Y/n.. if you wanted to get fucked in the chapel like a whore why didn’t you say so?”.

That statement alone forced her to pull his tie attaching her plumped lips to him, the jolly rancher swapped between the two lovers' mouths shrinking in size as they passionately made out. Cody hungrily and desperately bit on her bottom lip as he slithered his palm to her throat gripping her gently before pulling away.

His blue orbs scanned her before ripping the black lace off her dripping arousal, Y/n's cheeks burned with cynosure as she was left exposed to Cody, the sounds of him unbuckling his pants burned her with anticipation as he hiked her body up while he pumped his length in his hand. the evident veins popping as she turned her head away being forced to look at him as his hand held her chin. “ don't worry you'll get what you want in just a minute bunny” his tip graced your tight pink opening, your wetness instantly coating Cody’s tip as she softly moaned at the teasing before without warning shoving all of his 8 inches into her tight arousal.

She gasped as she watched him loosen his tie taking it off, a evil smirk graced Cody’s lips fully bottoming into her womb hearing a relaxed groan from him . “ look at you, already pathetic for me, you stupid little nun”. THRUST, Cody slammed his hips into yours after that statement, your eyes big as saucers trying to hold on as Cody thrusted hardly into you again getting a quick porn like moan out of you.

“Codes wait-“ he wasted no time thrusting against Y/n once more, before smashing his lips onto hers and beginning to rhythmically thrust into you getting nothing but loud exotic moans, Cody smiled against his lover's lips moaning sounds of his own trailing his hand up her costume more pulling out her breasts as he fondled with her right nipple.

“You're taking me so good bunny.. Fuck you're so tight” he gritted through his teeth, all you could do was breathlessly whimper and moan under Cody's Sinful punishing, her black lip gloss was now smeared across her lips as she watched him slowly place his tie around her neck, pulling it down to slowly tighten it to produce a comforting choking sensation. “ f-fuck.. Cody please” you whimpered before he wrapped the satin around his fist bringing your small head up by pulling it.

His eyes looked dark as if Cody wasn't in his body anymore, Y/n gulped as she looked him dead in his eyes, her puffy lips pouted as he slowed his strokes down smirking down at her, “What's the matter baby? Im going too slow for your liking? My slut wants to be fucked harder?” the feeling of his dick began to speed up in strokes, and she whimpered rolling her eyes slightly biting her bottom lip.

“S-Shit..! You fuck me so good Cody!” she moaned out taking his now strong-hitting strokes as he continuously hit her G-spot, her mascara ran down her face, her hood was now off, and her edges slightly rising up as Cody fucked her into overstimulation. Cody’s thrust started to pick up sloppily, digging himself as deep as he could watching her stomach begin to bulge out as he dummy fucked her on top of the piano.

“my pretty bunny.. F-fuck you're gonna make me cum” Her walls clenched down on him gradually as she was close to her peak as well, squeals and begs escaped from her as if felt Cody was fucking all the sins out of her viscously, and her tears streamed down her face in pain and pleasure, finally screaming out in a gut-busting orgasm.

“Fuck im cumming! Oh yes, Cody!!” a series of screams and praises emitted from her as her squirt shot out of her like a water gun, it hit Cody on the chest soaking herself and him up.

A door opened from the front of the chapel revealing what seemed to be the Priest, Cody’s stepfather, “ Hey Codes I been looking for-” you moaned loudly before Cody sloppily kissed your lips, your eyes made contact with the Priest having a naughty smirk on your face pulling away from Cody.

“Why hello Father”

[britpop-band-tourney]

Hello everyone!

This *used* to be profile for a britpop band tournament, however now I plan to use it as a submission based poll blog.

HOW POLL SUBMISSIONS WORK

literally just send an ask and I’ll make it! You can do a poll on artists, songs, or albums. I am widening the scope of genres, while this blog is focused on britpop I don’t mind if other 90s bands or adjacent artists crop up.

PREVIOUS TOURNEY WINNERS AND INFO BELOW

1st: Blur

2nd: Manic Street Preachers

3rd: Suede

❌ELIMINATED ARTISTS❌

the artist they lost too will be in brackets

Teenage Fanclub (Round 1: Echobelly)

Rialto (Round 1: S*M*A*S*H)

Space (Round 1: Stereophonics)

Gorkys Zygotic Mynci (Round 1: Shampoo)

Ocean Colour Scene (Round 1: Placebo)

Reef (Round 1: Elastica)

Cecil (Round 1: Gene)

Silver Sun (Round 1: Skunk Ananise)

Bis (Round 1: Blur)

Nilon Bombers (Round 1: Powder)

Pimlico (Round 1: Northern Uproar)

60ft Dolls (Round 1: Gay Dad)

The Verve (Round 1: The Stone Roses)

Thurman (Round 1: Ash)

Oasis (Round 1: Pulp)

These Animal Men (Round 1: Salad)

The Lightning Seeds (Round 1: Ride)

Me Me Me (Round 1: Jocasta)

Mansun (Round 1: Super Furry Animals)

Heavy Stereo (Round 1: The Divine Comedy)

Bennet (Round 1: Republica)

Cast (Round 1: McAlmont & Butler)

Hefner (Round 1: The Pointy Birds)

Kula Shaker (Round 1: Manic Street Preachers)

Geneva (Round 1: Marion)

David Devant & His Spirit Wife (Round 1: The Boo Radleys)

Kenickie (Round 1: Lush)

The Seahorses (Round 1: The Bluetones)

Longpigs (Round 1: James)

Denim (Round 1: Catatonia)

Feeder (Round 1: Suede)

Saint Etienne (Round 1: The Charlatans)

Speedy (Round 1: Whiteout)

The Supernaturals (Round 1: The La’s)

Dodgy (Round 1: Sleeper)

Cornershop (Round 1: Supergrass)

Kinky Machine (Round 1: Menswe@r)

Hurricane #1 (Round 1: Shed Seven)

Babybird (Round 1: Paul Weller)

Delicatessen (Round 1: Daisy Chainsaw)

The Auteurs (Round 1: Strangelove)

Embrace (Round 1: Black Grape)

Theaudience (Round 1: Travis)

My Life Story (Round 1: The Beautiful South)

Babylon Zoo (Round 1: Edwyn Collins)

Young Offenders (Round 1: The Flamingoes)

Gene (Round 2: Ash)

The Bluetones (Round 2: The Divine Comedy)

Northern Uproar (Round 2: Strangelove)

Daisy Chainsaw (Round 2: Pulp)

Marion (Round 2: Echobelly)

Black Grape (Round 2: Blur)

Edwyn Collins (Round 2: Manic Street Preachers)

Skunk Ananise (Round 2: The Stone Roses)

The Boo Radleys (Round 2: Republica)

Salad (Round 2: The Beautiful South)

Gay Dad (Round 2: Sleeper)

The Pointy Birds (Round 2: The Flamingoes)

S*M*A*S*H (Round 2: James)

The Charlatans (Round 2: Super Furry Animals)

Menswe@r (Round 2: Elastica)

Jocasta (Round 2: Suede)

Shampoo (Round 2: Placebo)

Travis (Round 2: McAlmont & Butler)

Ride (Round 2: Catatonia)

Shed Seven (Round 2: Paul Weller)

Supergrass (Round 2: Lush)

Whiteout (Round 2: Stereophonics)

James (Round 3: Elastica)

Pulp (Round 3: Placebo)

Paul Weller (Round 3: Lush)

McAlmont & Butler (Round 3: Ash)

Echobelly (Round 3: Suede)

Republica (Round 3: Blur)

Catatonia (Round 3: Manic Street Preachers)

The Beautiful South (Round 3: Sleeper)

Strangelove (Round 3: Stereophonics)

The Divine Comedy (Round 3: Super Furry Animals)

The Flamingoes (Round 3: The Stone Roses)

Ash (Round 4: Placebo/Super Furry Animals)

The Stone Roses (Round 4: Manic Street Preachers)

Stereophonics (Round 4: Blur)

Sleeper (Round 4: Lush)

Elastica (Round 4: Suede)

Placebo (Round 5: Suede)

Lush (Round 5: Blur)

Super Furry Animals (Round 5: Manic Street Preachers)

[didierleclair]

How do we write about a unique singer like Billie Holiday? Billie Holiday was a unique singer because of her deep and trumpet-like voice. Self-taught, she started to sing in Harlem. Her friend, the sax player Lester Young, called her “Lady Day” and it stuck. A special singer who bent her phrasing and favored slow tempos.

I love many of her songs but “These foolish things” is among the top. You can add, “I’ll be seeing you” and “Lover man”. She put a stamp on these songs. She is showing her vulnerability and loneliness. A daring artist who never back down in front of a challenge. She sang “Strange fruit” a loaded song about lynching in the South, knowing very well the trouble she brought to herself. The US government targeted her for most of her career but she sang it until the end. Drug and alcohol were part of her demise. Billie Holiday won 4 Grammys posthumously. She is unforgettable.

Comment écrire à propos d’une chanteuse singulière comme Billie Holiday? Billie Holiday était unique parce qu’elle avait une voix douce qui imitait la trompette. Autodidacte, elle a commencé sa carrière à Harlem. Son ami, le saxophoniste Lester Young, l’a surnommé « Lady Day » et c’est resté. Une chanteuse originale qui allongeait les notes et préférait les morceaux lents.

J’aime plusieurs de ses chansons mais « These foolish things » est parmi mes préférées. Il faut ajouter « I’ll be seeing you » et « Lover man ». Elle a laissé sa marque sur ces chansons. Elle a montré sa vulnérabilité et sa solitude. Une artiste audacieuse qui ne reculait pas devant des défis. Elle a chanté « Strange Fruit », une chanson qui dénonçait le lynchage dans le Sud, en sachant qu’elle s’attirait des problèmes. Le gouvernement américain la harcela durant presque toute sa carrière mais elle la chanta jusqu’à la fin. La drogue et l’alcool participèrent à ses problèmes de santé. Billie Holiday a gagné 4 Grammys de façon posthume. Elle est inoubliable. Pic Pinterest. #billieholiday #jazzsinger #didierleclair

[fdelopera]

Welcome to the 39th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 115 yeas ago.

In today’s installment, we have Part VII of Chapter 14, “La Lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”), and Part I of Chapter 15, “Un Coup de maître de l’amateur de trappes” (“A Masterstroke of the Trapdoor Lover”).

This section was first printed on Tuesday, 23 November, 1909.

For anyone following along in David Coward's translation of the First Edition of Phantom of the Opera (either in paperback, or Kindle, or from another vendor -- the ISBN-13 is: 978-0199694570), the text starts in Chapter 13 with, “'Christine,' said Raoul as he got to his feet, 'you say you love me but it was only a matter of hours after you were free again that you went back to him',” and goes to Chapter 14, “Then she rushed out in a state of near-panic, still pulling and smoothing her fingers as if she thought the ring would somehow mysteriously reappear of its own accord.”

There are some differences between the Gaulois text and the First Edition. In this section, these include (highlighted in red above):

1) Chapter XV was printed as Chapter XVI. This numbering error was made in Chapter VII, and was not corrected, so it was propagated throughout the Gaulois publication.

2) Chapter 15 in the Gaulois text is Chapter 14 in the First Edition, etc.

3) Compare the Gaulois text:

… vous dites que vous m'aimez et quelques heures à peine s'étaient écoulées depuis que vous aviez recouvé votre liberté, que déjà vous retourniez auprès d'Erik !…

Translation:

“… you say that you love me and yet scarcely a few hours had passed since you had regained your liberty, and you were already going back to Erik!…”)

To the First Edition:

… vous dites que vous m'aimez, mais quelques heures à peine s'étaient écoulées, depuis que vous aviez recouvé votre liberté, que déjà vous retourniez auprès d'Erik !…

Translation:

“… you say that you love me, but scarcely a few hours had passed since you had regained your liberty, and you were already going back to Erik!…”

4) This passage was added to the First Edition (indicated by the red arrow above), and does not appear in the Gaulois:

Soudain une silhouette bizarre se dressa devant les jeunes gens, leur barrant le chemin :

« Non ! pas par ici ! »

Et la silhouette leur indiqua un autre couloir par lequel ils devaient gagner les coulisses.

Raoul voulait s’arrêter, demander des explications.

« Allez ! allez vite !… commanda cette forme vague, dissimulée dans une sorte de houppelande et coiffée d’un bonnet pointu.*

Christine entraînait déjà Raoul, le forçait à courir encore :

« Mais qui est-ce ? Mais qui est-ce, celui-là ? » demandait le jeune homme.

Et Christine répondait :

« C’est Le Persan !…

– Qu’est-ce qu’il fait là…

– On n’en sait rien !… Il est toujours dans l’Opéra !

Translation:

Suddenly, a strange silhouette loomed before the two youths, blocking their path:

“No! Not this way!”

And the silhouette pointed to another corridor by which they must reach the wings.

Raoul wanted to stop, to ask for an explanation.

“Go! Go quickly!…” ordered this shadowy figure, enshrouded in a sort of houppelande and capped with a pointed hat.*

Christine was already dragging Raoul away, forcing him to run again:

“But who is that? Who is that man?” asked the young man.

And Christine replied:

“That is The Persian!…”

“What is he doing here?…”

“No one knows!… He is always at the Opera!”

* NOTE: Leroux's character of "The Persian" was based on an actual French historical figure, the Persian gentleman and expat, Mohammed Ismaël Khan. This image below depicts the houppelande coat and Astrakhan cap that Leroux was likely imagining when he was writing his novel.

This image is from Les Célébrités de la rue, by Charles Yriarte, published in 1864, a book that listed notable figures in Paris in the early to mid 1800s. It was published during Mohammed Ismaël Khan's lifetime, as M. Khan passed away in 1868.

It is worth noting that the Opera House that M. Khan frequented was the Salle Le Peletier, which was destroyed in a fire in 1873 (five years after M. Khan's death). Two years later in 1875, the Paris Opera was moved to the newly opened Palais Garnier (aka Erik's Opera House). So, contrary to Leroux's narrative, M. Khan never actually frequented the Palais Garnier. This is an example of faction (fact+fiction), one of Leroux's favorite literary devices, which Leroux used throughout Le Fantôme de l'Opéra to build a feeling of verisimilitude into his fictionalized narrative.

5) Compare the Gaulois text:

C'était Erik. Il avait les yeux de braise dont vous m'avez parlé. J'aurais dû le clouer sur la lyre d'Apollon…

Translation:

“That was Erik. He had the fiery eyes that you told me about. I should have nailed him to Apollo’s Lyre…”

To the First Edition:

Si vraiment nous avons aperçu Erik j'aurais dû le clouer sur la lyre d'Apollon…

Translation:

“If that truly was Erik that we saw, I should have nailed him to Apollo’s Lyre…”

6) Compare the Gaulois text (this was likely an error on Leroux’s part, since earlier, Raoul agreed to be in Christine’s dressing room at midnight sharp):

… à minuit et demi ! fit le jeune homme …

Translation:

“… at half past midnight!” said the young man …

To the First Edition:

… à minuit je serai dans votre loge, fit le jeune homme …

Translation:

“… at midnight I shall be in your dressing room,” said the young man

7) Compare the Gaulois text:

Jamais ! répondit-elle avec énergie. Je la renverrai à Erik en la déposant dans la loge du fantôme. Il faut qu'Erik puisse rentrer tranquillement chez lui le soir…

Translation:

“Never!” she replied forcefully. “I shall return it [the key] to Erik by leaving it in the Phantom’s box. Erik must be able to return calmly to his house in the evening…”

To the First Edition:

Jamais ! répondit-elle avec énergie. Ce serait une trahison !

Translation:

“Never!” she replied forcefully. “That would be a betrayal!”

8) Minor differences in punctuation.

Click here to see the entire edition of Le Gaulois from 23 November, 1909. This link brings you to page 3 of the newspaper — Le Fantôme is at the bottom of the page in the feuilleton section. Click on the arrow buttons at the bottom of the screen to turn the pages of the newspaper, and click on the Zoom button at the bottom left to magnify the text.

[empiredesimparte]

⚜ Le Sacre de Napoléon V | N°6 | Francesim, Versailles, 27 Thermidor An 230

Napoleon V met Madame Royale de Thornolie (@theroyalthornoliachronicles) at the coronation gala. It was not the first time she had visited Francesim, but he had never spoken to her before. Curious, he was soon disillusioned by Eleanor's coldness. The young emperor hoped that he had not complicated his future diplomatic relations with the kingdom of Thornolia. He also hoped that she had not formed the wrong impression of him.

Beginning ▬ Previous ▬ Next

Some of the characters in the background belong to @officalroyalsofpierreland

⚜ Transcription

Louis: Madame Royale, are you enjoying the festivities?

Eleanor: They are certainly festive…

Louis: I'm delighted to see Thornolia is continuing its friendship with Francesim. Do give my regards to your father.

Eleanor: If only you had the opportunity to send your regards in person.

(Long Pause)

Louis: I must say you are intriguing, Madame Royale, for an ambassador. My advisors told me about you, or at least, they told me what they’ve heard of you, so much so I wanted to see if it was true. 

Eleanor: Do tell. What do your advisors deem worthy information to tell you about me?

Louis: They say you're not very talkative, to put it simply. I'd like to invite you to Compiègne one of these days so we can get to know each other better. What do you say?

Eleanor: Tell me, sire, is that all it takes for you to impose yourself on a woman? To hear they are not very talkative?

Louis: Madame, you’ve got me all wrong. I'm just... 

Eleanor: Non. I’m afraid you have me all wrong. Perhaps you shouldn’t take everything you hear to heart, particularly from people who claim their loyalties only to hide their own agendas. Then you might be able to make valid conclusions about people all on your own. In fact, shall I share what I have heard about you? Louis: I'm all ears, Madame…

Eleanor: In the public eye you are the darling boy emperor who everyone loves to praise. Not a single hair out of place, not a single event you attend favouring you negatively. 

Louis: Not an unappealing narrative…

Eleanor: Perhaps the words I’ve heard are more favourable than I lead you on to believe. 

And yet…. watching you tonight it is easy to see why anyone would be hard pressed to see behind the smoke and mirrors act you project. And that’s all you are: Smoke and mirrors. You have had everything handed to you on silver platters and fed to you with silver spoons, and therefore you have no problem believing everyone you deign to speak with will bow down to give you anything you desire. So do forgive me, sire, if I refuse to be another.

Louis: … Last I knew, we are cut from the same cloth.

(Short Pause. this is when Eleanor shows the chink in her armour at Louis’s words)

Eleanor: That may be, Louis, but not everyone cares for their cloth the same way. 

Marie-Joséphine: Your Majesty, may I join you?... Louis: Of course, Mère.

Eleanor: Bonsoir, Madame Mère. 

Marie-Joséphine: Madame Royale. It's a pleasure to meet you. 

Eleanor: Truly, the pleasure is mine. My father was adamant I passed along his regards to you.

Marie-Joséphine: Merci, it’s appreciated.Eleanor: I’m afraid you must forgive me. Despite the lovely evening put together tonight I’m feeling a bit run down and must retire. Pardonnez-moi. (curtseys) Sire, Madame Mère. (Leaves)

⚜ Traduction française

Napoléon V rencontre Madame Royale de Thornolie durant le gala du couronnement. Ce n'est pas la première fois qu'elle se rend en Francesim, mais il n'avait jamais pu s'entretenir avec elle auparavant. Curieux, il déchante bien vite devant la personnalité froide d'Eleanor. Le jeune empereur espère ne pas avoir compliqué ses prochaines relations diplomatiques avec le royaume de Thornolie. Et aussi, qu'elle se soit faite une mauvaise idée de sa personne.

Louis : Madame Royale, appréciez-vous les festivités ?

Eleanor : Elles sont certainement festives...

Louis : Je suis ravi de voir que Thornolie continue son amitié avec la Francesim. Veuillez transmettre mes salutations à votre père.

Eleanor : Si seulement vous aviez l'opportunité de les transmettre en personne.

(Longue pause)

Louis : Je dois dire que vous êtes intrigante, Madame Royale, pour une ambassadrice. Mes conseillers m'ont parlé de vous, ou du moins, ils m'ont dit ce qu'ils avaient entendu sur vous, si bien que j'ai voulu voir si c'était avéré.

Eleanor : Dites-moi donc. Qu'est-ce que vos conseillers jugent digne de vous dire à mon sujet ?

Louis : Ils disent que vous n'êtes pas très bavarde, pour faire simple. J'aimerais vous inviter à Compiègne un de ces jours pour que nous puissions mieux nous connaître. Qu'en dites-vous ?

Eleanor : Dites-moi, sire, est-ce tout ce qu'il vous faut pour vous imposer à une femme ? Entendre dire qu'elle n'est pas très bavarde ?

Louis : Madame, vous m'avez complètement mal compris. Je suis juste...

Eleanor : Non. J'ai bien peur que ce soit vous qui m'ayez mal comprise. Peut-être ne devriez-vous pas prendre à cœur tout ce que vous entendez, surtout de la part de personnes qui prétendent leur loyauté uniquement pour cacher leurs propres agendas. Alors, vous pourriez être capable de tirer des conclusions valables sur les gens par vous-même. En fait, puis-je partager ce que j'ai entendu à votre sujet ?

Louis : Je vous écoute, Madame...

Eleanor : Aux yeux du public, vous êtes le jeune empereur chéri que tout le monde aime louer. Pas un seul cheveu de travers, pas un seul événement auquel vous assistez ne vous désavantage.

Louis : Un récit pas déplaisant...

Eleanor : Peut-être que les mots que j'ai entendus sont plus favorables que je ne vous l'ai laissé croire.

Et pourtant... en vous observant ce soir, il est facile de voir pourquoi il serait difficile de percevoir ce qui se cache derrière l'acte de fumée et de miroirs que vous projetez. Et c'est tout ce que vous êtes : de la fumée et des miroirs. On vous a tout donné sur des plateaux d'argent et nourri avec des cuillères en argent, et donc vous n'avez aucun problème à croire que tous ceux à qui vous daignez parler se prosterneront pour vous donner tout ce que vous désirez. Alors pardonnez-moi, sire, si je refuse d'être une autre.

Louis : ... Pourtant, nous sommes faits de la même étoffe

(Courte pause. C'est à ce moment qu'Eleanor montre une faille dans son armure aux mots de Louis)

Eleanor : C'est peut-être vrai, Louis, mais tout le monde ne prend pas soin de leur tissu de la même manière.

Marie-Joséphine : Votre Majesté, puis-je me joindre à vous ?...

Louis : Bien sûr, Mère.

Eleanor : Bonsoir, Madame Mère.

Marie-Joséphine : Madame Royale. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer.

Eleanor : Vraiment, le plaisir est pour moi. Mon père était catégorique pour que je vous transmette ses salutations.

Marie-Joséphine : Merci, c'est apprécié.

Eleanor : Je crains que vous deviez me pardonner. Malgré la charmante soirée organisée ce soir, je me sens un peu fatiguée et je dois me retirer. Pardonnez-moi. (révérence) Sire, Madame Mère. (S'en va)

[chicinsilk]

US Vogue March 1, 1954

Chanel Haute Couture Collection Spring/Summer 1954. Marie-Hélène Arnaud wears a navy blue wool jersey suit, with square, lightly padded shoulders; two patch pockets; cuffs that button and unbutton to turn over; pleated skirt on the side for easier walking; a washable white muslin blouse, cufflinks, button tabs on the skirt, front and back, a young turn-down collar and a young bow at the neck.

Chanel Collection Haute Couture Printemps/Été 1954. Marie-Hélène Arnaud porte un tailleur en jersey de laine bleu marine, aux épaules carrées, légèrement matelassées ; deux poches plaquées ; poignets qui se boutonnent et se déboutonnent pour se retourner ; jupe plissée sur le côté pour faciliter la marche ; une blouse en mousseline blanche lavable, des boutons de manchette, des pattes de boutonnage sur la jupe, devant et derrière, un col rabattu jeune et un noeud jeune au cou.

Photo Henry Clarke vogue archive

[amonglas]

Houset Devant, a naive young tealblood who is an aspiring magician, who dreams of going professional. Though, he's not very good at it.

I'm also on artfight this year. I still have to sort my characters out, but you should be seeing him, Hardve, and one other troll there soon.

[4letteraroace]

Soft

‘Soft’ was not a word that was often used to describe Tank. Mainly because anyone who used it would get their ass beat, but also because Tank kept their guard up for so long. How could anyone describe the shifter with a fierce bark and a fiercer bite as soft?

Then there was Sam.Tank found they could open up to him. One look at their mate would change Tank’s expression from pure steel to open, gentle adoration. A shift from Tank to Darlin’. 

Darlin’ found themselves becoming soft. They let their hair grow out. Something they hadn’t done for years because long hair was a liability and a hassle. They started wearing looser jewelry. Hoops instead of studs in their ears and a charm bracelet they hadn’t worn since they were little. But the biggest change was that Darlin’ started to dance again. 

— —

Sam was out with Vincent for the night. Something about closing on a new property for William. And Darlin’ had the house to themselves. A night without Sam. He’d be back before dawn, but there were so many hours between now and then. So, Darlin’ went to theirs and Sam’s shared bedroom and pulled out a box from underneath the bed. Inside were a pair of pointe shoes and a pair of technique ballet shoes. Darlin’ pulled out the technique shoes, whispering a quiet “not tonight” to their pointe shoes. The technique shoes were slightly worn, stained with dirt and sweat and memories. Darlin’ slipped them onto their feet, pointed and flexed their toes to make sure the shoes fit, then padded lightly to the kitchen. 

Gentle piano music started playing from Darlin’s phone as they placed their hand on the back of a chair as if it were a ballet barre. 

Feet turned out in first position. Posture perfect. Close your ribs, tuck the tail. Gently bring your right arm from low fifth, through first, to second position. 

Demi plié. Arm moves to low fifth. Demi plié. Arm moves through first position to second position. Breathe. And grande plié. Bend until your heels barely lift from the floor before straightening. 

Darlin’s mother had put them in ballet classes at a young age. “Dancing will teach you how to direct your energy in a healthy way,” she had said, pinning Tank’s hair into a bun at the crown of their head. “It will teach you discipline. Respect for authority. A sense of community. An appreciation for accomplishment through hard work.” Tank had always loved to dance. It always felt slightly more satisfying to complete a series of fouettés, than to punch someone off their feet. 

Tendu to second position, then fourth, then fifth. Begin the next sets of demi and grande pliés. 

Ballet was a sense of strength for Tank. From a young age they had lean and strong muscles that moved gracefully and efficiently. No one expected the dancer to be a good fighter. This underestimation from their peers let Tank win a great deal of physical fights in school. Tank’s mother disapproved of the fighting, but was proud of how her child handled themselves. There was a beautiful agility in Tank’s movements and attacks. Because of that grace, Tank got off relatively easy with their mother. Hard to get in trouble when mom’s proud of you. 

Tendu combination. Feet in fifth position. Arm in high fifth. Four tendus to the front, side, back, and side again. Arm moves from on high to second, to arabesque, to second again. 

And then there was high school. The move to Dahlia had been rough on Tank. New house, new school, new pack. The members of the Shaw Pack that were Tank’s age seemed to be an exclusive clique. Tank was fine with that. Being alone had never bothered them. Tank was a soloist and a soloist didn’t need validation from their peers. A soloist, however, was more than willing to execute a perfect grande battement devant straight into Asher’s nose when he made fun of Tank for spending all afternoon at ballet rehearsal. Enough power in one kick to give him a nosebleed and to give Tank their first lecture from Gabe. 

Darlin’ wondered if that pair of pointe shoes still had the blood on them. Maybe their parents had thrown that pair away. It had been several years since Darlin’ wore through that pair. 

Focus. Ronde de jambe combination. Then fondue and developpe. Breathe. Don’t get distracted Tank. Close your ribs, tuck the tail, engage your abs. 

As high school went on, Tank grew closer to their packmates. Definitely still a lone wolf but not totally alone. Tank had a small and shaky friendship with David, Asher, and Milo. That bond was formed out of necessity. Tank’s closest friend was an unempowered girl that was in their ballet class. The two had become close when their studio’s production of The Nutcracker had double cast all the roles and both of them were to dance as the Sugar Plum Fairy. The two dancers rehearsed often together and soon became closer than Tank was with any of their packmates. 

No. Don’t think about her. If you think about her, then you’ll think about Him. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe Tank. Fix your posture. Sous-sus and draw your foot up your leg to passé retiré. Balance. Breathe. 

That beautiful dancer was the friend that Quinn attacked. She had finally gotten through to Tank that they didn’t deserve Quinn’s abuse. And he destroyed her for it. 

Don’t think about that. Just breathe, Tank. Let’s skip the adagio combination tonight. Do something more fun. Petite allegro. 

She loved petite allegro. She loved racing Tank through the combo to see who could do it the fastest. Tank always won but the both of them would be laughing together as they missed steps by the end. 

And now you’re crying. Quinn should have his fangs ripped out for what he did to her. And to you. 

— —

By the time Sam walked through the door, Darlin’ was sobbing while forcing their way through a difficult turn combination. 

“Shit. Sam. You’re back early. How did things go with Vincent?” Darlin’ sniffed and wiped away their tears. 

“Things went relatively smoothly. Are you all right, Darlin’? What’s got you cryin’?”

What did Darlin’ ever do to deserve Sam? His worried gaze slid up and down his mate, trying to find the source of the tears and Darlin’s pain. 

“Just some bad memories. I’ll be fine.” Darlin’ tried to brush off Sam’s concern. The walls don’t come down easily. 

“None of that now. Come ‘ere.” Sam pulled Darlin’ into his arms before asking, “do you want to talk about it?”

Darlin’ shook their head. “Just hold me?”

“I can do that,” Sam said softly. 

The memories wouldn’t ever truly go away, but Darlin’ would dance again tomorrow night. For now though, Darlin’ rested in the arms of their mate. Safe. And soft.

[chic-a-gigot]

La Mode nationale, no. 41, 15 octobre 1898, Paris. No. 1. — Toilette de jeune femme et toilette de visites. Bibliothèque nationale de France

(1) Toilette de jeune femme, en cachemire d'Écosse vert-de-gris. Jupe plate, très collante, avec 5 petites ganses formant dents dans le bas. Corsage légèrement blousé à draperies plissées dans le haut, gros pli creux garni de boutons, épaulettes brodées, manches unies, nœud et ceinture de velours violet.

(1) Young woman's ensemble, in verdigris Scottish cashmere. Flat skirt, very tight, with 5 small braids forming teeth at the bottom. Slightly bloused bodice with pleated draperies at the top, large box pleat trimmed with buttons, embroidered epaulettes, plain sleeves, purple velvet bow and belt.

Matériaux: 7 mètres, cachemire.

—

(2) Toilette de visites en taffetas rose. Jupe sans couture devant avec volant de mousseline de soie noire plissée, rehaussé d'un bouillonné de mousseline noire. Corsage avec fichu garni de 3 volants de mousseline de soie, empiècement de guipure et cravate drapée en mousseline noire, manches unies.

(2) Visiting dress in pink taffeta. Seamless skirt in front with pleated black silk chiffon flounce, enhanced with a black chiffon ruffle. Bodice with fichu trimmed with 3 silk chiffon flounces, guipure yoke and draped black chiffon tie, plain sleeves.

Matériaux: 15 mètres taffetas.

[roeroe-world]

the show, the after party, the hotel.

lori harvey as valencia, devante swing as himself

set in 1995.

warning: use of drugs and alcohol, detailed smut, profane language, adult situations

Her top row of pearly whites embedded into her bottom lip, swirling dark-brown horizons peering onto the stage. An intense sensation of arousal pouring over her being. A throbbing sensation occurring between her legs as the sounds of screaming women in the crowd drowned beyond her eardrums.

Damn. Is the one thing Valencia could think of at the moment.

Four men stood amongst the stage, giving a crowd a hell of a show and dressed somewhat identical in black leather outfits. But her eyes were on DeVante the entire night.

DeVante Swing.

The man she’d been crushing on since the moment Jodeci first stepped on the scene in Doc Martens. Yet she didn’t get to touch him until she was nineteen. Their affair ended three years ago but that didn’t mean she stopped thinking about him.

There he stood. His persona smooth and suave as nonchalant as she remembers. His hair in small plaits which happened to be a new hairstyle he’d been rocking. It had been cut in an infamous high top fade since she’d last spoken to him. That look had seemed to go out of style.

The successful R&B quartet were performing their hit records, keeping their audience dancing and singing along.

Valencia remained seated the entire night, barely conversing with her friends whom would say occasional things to her during the show. Her main focus is on DeVante yet she doesn’t want to admit it aloud. Though to her knowledge, she definitely isn’t the only female with their beady eyes on him.

The young woman couldn’t blame them.

Over the years, DeVante had always been a beautiful man but his new look and style hit different. His demeanor seemed a bit different.

She couldn’t stop staring, even at the after party. Her light-brown eyes would wander in his direction while he entertained a few of the women whom were throwing themselves at him though he didn’t seem very enthralled. He appeared rather bored.

He’s trying to be friendly. Although he looked like he was ready to leave.

A cigar between his index and middle finger, smoke blowing between his lips as he sat manspread against the leather couch. One of the women seated closely beside him began to run a manicured hand across his chest, her red painted lips inching closer to his ear. Smirks creeping upon both of their canvases.

His piercing eyes analyzing his surroundings before eventually meeting Valencia’s. The moment the pairs of orbs connect, the musician’s smirk drops slightly. Her appearance throwing him completely off.

The woman beside his being whispering dirty things in his ear no longer mattered. His light-colored swirling irises scanning her captivating facial features. She hadn’t changed a bit. She still looks good— no, fuck that— she looks edible.

Tresses curled to perfection and sitting upon her shoulders comfortably. Canvas effortlessly gorgeous and holding a light smirk.

Valencia stood all in her golden glory. A strapless loose crop top which showcased her toned stomach as well as the bottom of her perky breasts. The risqué shirt being adorned by a matching tight skirt that paused above her knees.

Red.

Red always looked flawless on her as he remembered.

He remembers her. The times they’d spent together, the countless amount of love making, the trips, the laughs they shared. Just when he was actually beginning to forget about her, she pops up and makes his heart race.

Their eyes never tearing away from one another, wanting to see who would be the one to speak first. Tension brewing over between the pair, despite being many spaces apart.

Boldly, Valencia lifts her manicured hand, motioning him over smoothly with her index finger.

Suddenly, it became a competition.

His smirk widening once again, he motions the woman over as well using his crooked index finger. The look on both of their faces unreadable but they both knew they liked what they saw. Eyelids hanging low and slightly dead.

Her hair shook along with every movement she’d made, her head moving side to side stubbornly. “You…” She mouths pointing in his direction. “Come over here.” Her finger pointing downward to the open space in front of her being.

Seconds later, the two began to share a chuckle, although they couldn’t hear one another. His head tossing backward at her expected actions with a head shake. “This chick,” He says to himself before standing to his feet. “‘Scuse me, baby.” He leaves the woman by her lonesome, no longer in the mood for her presence.

No lie. Valencia’s heart began to race even more, analyzing the musician waltz between individuals to get to her. It seemed like eternity. But… it wasn’t.

“Took you long enough.” She opens her lips to speak and that’s the first thing she says.

The scent of cologne and chronic enters her nostrils the moment he inches closer to her. Their chests nearly touching while the palm of his large right hand accompanies the wall beside the woman’s head.

Raising a brow, “Still the same old Val, I see,” His orbs scanning her frame once again as hers looks up in his direction due to their height difference. “You ain’t changed a bit.” Tongue dragging across his pink lips slowly.

Instantly, the beauty glances away, her attention darting downward upon her red bottoms. The plaits that were once in his hair were taken down, showcasing the curly essence. His eyebrow possessing a perfect slit on the side. His facial hair— everything about him is perfect. His voice always did things to her and he knows it.

A flustered smile amongst her glossy lips, feeling like the innocent nineteen year old girl she once was when they’d met in ‘92. Butterflies fluttering within her stomach just as they did three years ago.

“You have. I’m digging the new hairdo.” Their eyes meeting yet again the second she looks upward.

Slightly smiling, a chuckle passes his lips before quizzing, “What made you come see me?”

Sending the musician a playful eye roll, her head tilting to the side, a grin etched across her golden face. “What makes you think I just came to see you? Jodeci is a group— not just DeVante Swing, if I’m not mistaken.” The woman’s smart reply earns yet another chuckle.

“Well—” The sound of glass breaking over the booming rap music interrupts the pair due to the loudness.

“Bitch, don’t make me fuck you up!” One of the women shouts at the other while security held the anger women apart. Their eyes darting away from one another for the first time in minutes and peering into the direction of the sudden ruckus.

The night had taken a sudden shift and neither of two wanted to be around it.

“Let’s go somewhere private.” Without a hesitation, DeVante takes Valencia’s hand to guide them to his limousine. His cigar still in hand, taking occasional smooth pulls. “We going to the hotel.” A driver stood by the door, opening it for the pair smoothly and closing it behind them.

Her irises searching around the limousine, smiling slightly at the inside and how neat and luxurious it is. The musician’s arms immediately envelopes around her frame, pulling her closer to him and holding the woman tightly.

It reminded her of old times. She couldn’t lie, she missed this. She missed DeVante.

“I missed you…” It was as if he spoke her mind.

“I missed you.” She replies softly in the midst of fighting her tears. She fought and fought and eventually won. They began to catch up during the entire limo ride, reminiscing about the past and sharing laughter.

The more they spoke on the past is the more she realized she’s no longer the girl she once was. The realization saddened her oddly.

When they met, she happened to be in her freshman year of college and almost beginning her second year. Valencia was inexperienced then until she met DeVante who showed her a whole other world compared to the sheltered life she had at home.

She would forever be thankful for that.

Upon entering DeVante’s spacious hotel suite, the vibe instantly transitioned. DeVante began to stop talking and the look on his face grew unreadable. It was as if he no longer wanted to speak, his attitude cold while he waltzed ahead of the woman.

Reading the room, Valencia remained silent and analyzed the back of his head before peering out of the wide windows of the suite. Seattle’s night sky sinking into her glistening orbs, wondering if she should leave or not. She had no problem walking away again… no matter how much it would hurt.

“Why’d you leave?” He breaks the silence, slowly making his way beside her standing frame.

“Huh?” The question catches her off guard, attention falling amongst his being.

“There was times when I needed you…” The musician began, keeping his head forward onto the sight of Seattle’s nightlife. “But you wasn’t there ‘cause you was gone.” Valencia’s face drops and immediately her mood changes.

They spent so much time reminiscing on the good yet forgot the turmoil and pain.

A deep chuckle passes his throat before he grew serious again, “That night you called me crying about some rumor you heard about me… I come home from tour to see all your shit nowhere to be found. I called you, paged you, looked for you, you completely dipped on me. All because of a fucking rumor.” His head moving side to side. “You took that shit and ran with it, literally.” Anger filling his tone by the minute.

Scoffing, “A rumor that I recall you did not confirm nor deny. It was a yes or no question.”

“I denied that shit, Valencia. I wasn’t fucking no other bitches when we was together. That was you. All up in your head, making up these crazy ass scenarios. I specifically told you not to worry about the rumors and don’t believe what everybody tell you. A person will tell you anything and you’ll believe that shit. I always hated that about you.”

Valencia began to grow angry as well, staring at him as if he’d grown three heads. “Yo, what the fuck?” Her tone of voice rising. “It’s been three fucking years. Why the fuck are you so fixated on that shit? ‘Cause guess what? That one little rumor isn’t the only reason I left.” Instantly, his head snaps in her direction.

“What else? Why you leave then?” He inches closer to the woman, his tall frame steaming.

“I don’t wanna talk about that shit. It’s all in the past—”

“Then that’s where your ass should’ve stayed.” His tone of voice raising much higher, almost shouting. “What was your fucking point of coming out to see me? Hm? Don’t say you didn’t come to see me ‘cause you and I both know you did.” Her eyes began fluttering and on the verge of the tears.

The young woman couldn’t believe he was speaking to her this way when they were just laughing up a storm moments ago. Maybe she shouldn’t have come to see him after leaving him without any absolute closure. She should have stayed in the past… like he wants.

“You know what?” She starts, both of their irises full of fury yet passion. “I admit I was wrong for leaving you the way I did. But you have to understand that this lifestyle isn’t me. The women, the tours, the tabloids— I couldn’t do it anymore. I wanted a relationship with you… not the world, D.” Everything was finally making perfect sense.

“I couldn’t tell you that then because I couldn’t face you. You would try to make me stay and I would’ve but I wouldn’t be happy.”

Sighing heavily, he takes a step back, anger subsiding and face softening. “I ain’t know you felt that way.” How could he not see it? His aggressive schedule, the tours, the shows, the spotlight. DeVante had no absolute idea how much his career affected her. “But you knew what it was when you got with me. So what changed?” She broke his heart and the way she left impacted him greatly.

“The nights, days, weeks.” Her mind traveling down memory lane. “I began to feel alone and I’m where I’m at while you’re where you’re at and I’m hearing all these stories and such. How was I supposed to feel? I’m not apart of that world so it felt like I was on the outside looking in.” She steps forward, caressing his canvas soothingly.

“I should’ve gave you the proper closure you needed. I’m sorry, okay?”

DeVante had every right to feel how he felt. Because that night she was very adamant on leaving, packing up every single belonging and fleeing the spacious lonely mansion without another word. Every tear came redemption yet she knew she had to leave… so, she did. No matter how much she didn’t want to and the amount of tears shed.

That nineteen-year-old remembered her mother being there, helping her pack and consistently telling her, “I told you men like that aren’t worth it. They lie, they cheat…” She’d lectured her the entire time while Valencia ignored her egg donor to the best of her abilities, much too weak to argue.

His irises piercing into hers intensely, low red eyeballs reading lust and passion yet love. “Prove it.”

Valencia was slightly caught off guard, given how quickly the entire energy in the suite transitioned. He was just jumping down her throat now he looked he wanted to be in her throat.

“Prove what?” She plays dumb, knowing exactly what he meant.

“Prove how sorry you are— ‘know what I’m saying?” His hands palming her backside, taking the opportunity to grip what once belonged to him. “Prove to daddy how much missed me.” A smirk amongst his lips.

She returns the smirk, beginning to caress his clothed shoulders before pulling the leather jacket to expose his tattooed arms. Soon came his baggy shirt. The musician watches the woman closely with a groan as she began to plant kisses amongst his ink covered golden chest, bending upon her knees.

There were way more tattoos than before she’d realized. It gave him a more edgy image. That turned her on. The throbbing between her legs returned yet again, a waterfall leaking in her panties.

Almond shaped mid length chrome colored acrylic nails beginning to unbutton and unzip the fly of his pants, the sight of his hard bulge making her mouth water. Without a hesitation, his boxers were to his ankles. Valencia grasped an opportunity to admire the view of his naked body and how tatted he was compared to when they first met.

His thick, long member stood at attention and longing for attention as she stared, thinking of the phenomenal times she and him shared. Remembering the days when she was willing to die for that dick. Now, she was reverting to her old ways and indulging in one of her many guilty pleasures.

Stroking him softly, she wraps her lips around his phallus and immediately goes to work. “Shit. There you go, baby.” His deep nasally voice encourages her in a breathy tone, crooked fingers tangling within her tresses.

The woman’s head bobs backward and forward, attempting her best to deep throat him but it wouldn’t be long before she got the hang of it. DeVante soon transitioned into her meal as she swallowed him, twisting her hand to stroke the musician to perfection.

Meanwhile, the musician was in ecstasy as the woman that was once the love of his life gave him superhead. It was an art she’d perfected long ago after much practice. His head hung backward, a plethora of groans and profanity exiting his pink lips while fucking her pretty face.

Slurping sounds filled the spacious suite. Valencia’s eyelids were shut, letting his reaction consume her— sucking him as if her life depended on it.

She’s doing such a phenomenal job that he came under a minute but that didn’t make her want to stop. In fact, it encouraged her to go harder. “Mm.” She moans against his phallus, tears rolling down her cheeks, slob and cum surrounding her lips as well as dripping along her exposed breasts.

She didn’t care if she looked pretty or not.

“Aight, baby.” He slowly attempts to push her head backward, mouth hanging agape in pleasure while she ravished him during his orgasm. “Damn, Val…” He eyed her through low eyelids, body shaking slightly. Clearly, she was adamant on showing him how sorry she is.

Seductively, she pulls his member out of her mouth and taps it along her tongue before standing to her feet to connect their lips. His erect phallus in hand and at attention.

He fell under her spell while she lead him on the marble floors, ending up between her legs. Without a doubt, his hands were already upon the hem of her skirt and sliding the material downward as well as her panties. Anxious to see how soaked she is. Anxious to see what he once would play with on his free time.

The lights were bright and were going to remain that way, wanting to see one another. Their naked bodies being showcased in front of the windows, not giving a single fuck who would see. In fact, the thought of someone watching aroused the two even more.

“So fucking sexy… look at you.” His lowered gaze traveling amongst her captivating face as well as her captivating bareness. Her top row of pearly whites digging into her bottom lip, waiting for him to take her and ruin her as her legs remained spread to give him the beautiful view of her million dollar wetness.

“Sit that pretty pussy on my face.” He demands and she immediately does as told, a moan falling amongst her lips the moment she feels the sensation of his wet tongue.

She rode and rode, moaning loudly as the musician ate her to the bone. His pink lips licking and sucking, kissing— enjoying the melody of her moans and the screams of his name.

Occasionally, he would send smacks to her backside and gripping it, loving the taste she possessed. Nectar overflowing amongst his lips and chin. He always did love the sweetness.

Soon, they would find themselves switching positions. DeVante happened to be in control, her legs upon his shoulders whilst his member stroked in and out of the woman strategically. They felt so good to one another, loving the sensation of their love-making.

It was intense.

The way DeVante’s beautiful hazel swirling irises peered into hers, sweat beads dripping along his face— giving her his all. He looked incredibly sexy on top of her, not to mention he feels so fucking amazing inside of her.

Valencia’s sweet nectar lubricated every movement driving the two up the wall. The stickiness slapping against their skin. Macaroni-like noises as well as heavy breathing and moans filling the area.

Every stroke snatching each breath out of her lungs, her mouth hung agape— low eyelids giving the musician her undivided attention. “Fuck. You feel so fucking good inside of me.” Her dainty hands trailing against his tattooed arms, admiring his beauty and inked art onto his being.

They bit each other, screamed, screeched, tore one another apart— kissing one another roughly. Their sex wasn’t very slow, it was passionate yet rough. Clearly angry at one another that neither of them could have what they wanted. They were both aware that they couldn’t get back together.

That door had already closed.

The musician pulls out, already on the verge of approaching his orgasm. “Arch your back for me, baby.” He pants and she immediately does as told, moaning the moment she feels him inside of her love yet again.

The view of her backside slapping against him made him drag his tongue across his lips, sending a smack to it. “Damn, I missed you.” His baritone meets her eardrums instantly resulting in her lips to press together similar to a pout but she isn’t pouting. “You missed me, baby?”

Her mouth agape, breathing heavily while a plethora of moans passes her lips. “Unh, yes.” Face pressed against the marble floor and she didn’t even seem to care, clearly too fucked out to give a fuck.

“I love you…” She trails off moaning, nearly on the verge of tears. His grip on her waist tightening as he gave her his all, knowing it would be their last time like this. That was his main focus. “I love you, Donald, you hear me?” The woman wanted a response, beginning to pump it back at a similar pace of his strokes.

“Fuck, Val…” He began, head tossing backward. She knew how to make him weak, she also knows that he’s upset with her. All these years of no closure, no calls— nothing. There was no going back from that. The damage had already been done.

But no matter what, the feelings remained and that’s all it would ever be. Two people who were deeply in love with one another.

“I love you more, baby. Never stopped.”

His response makes her eyes flutter, immediately feeling her orgasm approaching. Though she could feel his anger, she could feel his love— emotionally and physically, he didn’t even have to say it.

The musician wasn’t ashamed, fucking her senseless in front of the windows without an absolute care. Anyone in the other buildings could’ve looked in and saw how dirty they were being, watching their hour long filth.

Her fucked out face turned in front of the windows while he was behind her being, fucking her doggystyle. The lights were still on so they could see everything, every crevice, every tattoo, every love face.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” The beauty moans while his mouth hung agape, focused and speechless. His eyebrows furrowing together as she put her million dollar pussy on him, his orgasm approaching quickly.

It was as if he was on a cloud. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling this way because of all of the chronic he smoked today or the half of bottle of Hennessy he drank at the afterparty. DeVante just knew that he feels amazing. Valencia feels amazing.

“Mm, daddy..” She calls out.

Immediately, the musician began to think about sealing the deal. Wondering if he would just release his seed inside of her. Then, she would have no choice but to come back into his arms and have a family like they talked about in the past.

Imagining how beautiful she would look pregnant with his child, eating every thing in sight. He would rub her swollen feet, caress her protruding belly while their creation kicked. The two smiling at one another lovingly as his other kids from previous relationships ran around their shared home.

It was a beautiful vision.

Yet, no matter how beautiful it was. It wasn’t fair.

Panting heavily, the musician pulls out and releases onto her plump backside with a groan, “Shit.” It wouldn’t be long before Valencia reaches her climax, crying out for the most high. Quivering and shaking.

Silence falling over them after their mind blowing orgasm, remaining in their same position until the beauty turns to climb onto his lap. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she envelopes herself into her ex’s ink covered arms.

Not another word being exchanged.

[phoenixlionme]

DC Latino Superheroes Part 1

1. Jaime Reyes aka Blue Beetle - Chicano (Mexican American)

2. Milagro Reyes aka Green Lantern (a popular fandom interpretation) - Chicana (Mexican American)

3. Kyle Rayner aka Green Lantern - biracial; half Irish and half Mexican American

4. Keli Quintela aka Teen Lantern - biracial; Afro-Indigenous Bolivian born

5. Selina Kyle aka Catwoman - biracial; Afro-Cuban American; to explain she has been portrayed by black women multiple times and I believe some comic issues has her state her Cuban heritage. So, I would make her Afro-Cuban with green eyes.

6.  Miguel Jose Barragan aka Bunker - Mexican

7. Mas y Menos - Guatemalan

8. Pedro Pena aka Shazam - Chicano (Mexican American)

9. Jessica Cruz aka Green Lantern - Chicana (Mexican American) and Honduran

10. Renee Montoya aka The Question II - Afro-Dominican American

11. Cisco Ramon aka Vibe - half Colombian and half Puerto Rican American

12. Miguel Devante aka Vulcan - biracial; half white and Latino nationality unknown

13.  Ya'Wara - biracial; Indigenous Brazilian 

14. Maria Mendoza aka Wonder Woman - Peruvian

15. Yara Flor aka Wonder Woman - biracial; Afro-Indigenous Brazilian

16. Lorena Marquez aka Aquagirl - Mexican American

17.  Isabella Ortiz aka Robina - Latina nationality unknown but American born; possibly Afro Latina

18.  Don Fernando Suarez aka El Castigo (The Whip) I - Mexican born

19.  Rodrigo Elwood Gaynor aka El Castigo (The Whip) II - Chicano (Mexican American) 

20.   Shelly Gaynor aka El Castigo (The Whip) III - Chicana (Mexican American); artwork by Phil Cho

21. Eduardo Dorado aka El Dorado - Mexican born; I highly suggest following his incarnation in the animated Young Justice series

22. Bernal Rojas aka Bushmaster - Venezuelan born

23. Uno aka Aztek - biracial; Indigenous Mexican

24.  El Gaucho - real name unknown; Argentinian born

25.  Rosabelle Mendez aka Pantha - Hispanic nationality unknown

26. Pablo Valdez aka El Muerto - Mexican born

27.  Anita Fite aka Empress - biracial; Afro-Haitian

28. Yolanda Montez aka Wildcat - Mexican born

29.  Andrea Rojas aka Acrata - Mexican born

30. Beatriz da Costa aka Fire - Brazilian born

[mote-historie]

Henri Gervex (French, 1852-1929), Young woman standing, back view, in front of a window (Jeune femme debout, vue de dos, devant une fenêtre).

Paris, musée d'Orsay, conservé au musée du Louvre.

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