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Nouveaux pilotes, un brin déjantés, à bord de la Libre Antenne sur RMC ! Jean-Christophe Drouet et Julien Cazarre prennent le relais. Après les grands matchs, quand la lumière reste allumée pour les vrais passionnés, place à la Libre Antenne : un espace à part, entre passion, humour et dérision, débats enflammés, franc-parler et second degré. Un rendez-vous nocturne à la Cazarre, où l'on parle foot bien sûr, mais aussi mauvaise foi, vannes, imitations et grands moments de radio imprévisibles !
On a déjà parlé de Parvana, une enfance en Afghanistan, et dans un mood RADICALEMENT DIFFÉRENT le studio Cartoon Saloon a sorti Le Peuple Loup ! Une sortie confidentielle, surtout en France, et pourtant un véritable plébiscite international. Une plongée dans l'Irlande médiévale, avec des Anglais qui ont bien envie de dominer tout le monde, et surtout cette fichue forêt pleine de canidés... Mais la meute est plus complexe qui n'y paraît ! Est-ce que ce film nous a emportés ? Et surtout, c'est du FLAN ou c'est pas du FLAN ? 4:30 Salut mon spot'5:45 L'actu vite démoulée14:25 Le contexte35:39 Le débat1:24:53 Les critiques1:34:24 Le futur Pensez à nous soutenir avec des commentaires ou des étoiles sur les applis, voire même avec un peu de sous sur Patreon ! MERCI aux gens qui nous soutiennent où que ce soit !
Une nouvelle saison en novembre ? Bah oui, selon l'adage, y a plus de saisons ma ptite dame… V'la donc le retour de Recoversion, avec un nouveau générique, dont je vous parle tout au long de ce 123ème épisode. L'occasion de parler foot, disco et rock anglais. La suite dans l'épisode ou dans les lien ci-dessous.
Téléchargez le Guide de la grammaire anglaise ici : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/telecharger-guide-grammaire?utm_source=youtube&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=le_guide_de_la_grammaire_anglaise Inscrivez-vous à AnglaisCours Club ici : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/commencer Que vous voyagiez à Londres, à New York ou ailleurs, vous saurez enfin ce que vous commandez — du SALMON, du COD, ou peut-être du MONKFISH ??? AnglaisCours Club est une méthode en ligne, animée par une petite équipe de professeurs enthousiastes, qui vous propose des formations en ligne conviviales et simples d'accès. Si vous souhaitez apprendre l'anglais cette année, rejoignez-nous sur l'Espace Membres AnglaisCours Club et accédez à toutes nos formations : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/commencer Accédez à un test de niveau : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/test-de-niveau-anglais.html Téléchargez 150 phrases utiles pour bien communiquer en anglais : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/150phrases Accédez à notre site de cours d'anglais : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/ Accédez à notre catalogue formations en ligne : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/formations #apprendrelanglais #anglais #coursdanglais #learnenglish #english #speakenglish
La perte du Canada par la France, entérinée en 1763 par le traité de Paris, marque l'un des tournants majeurs de l'histoire coloniale mondiale. Cet événement, souvent résumé comme la conséquence d'une défaite militaire, s'explique en réalité par un ensemble de causes stratégiques, économiques et politiques.Au XVIIIᵉ siècle, la France et l'Angleterre s'affrontent pour le contrôle de l'Amérique du Nord. La Nouvelle-France — qui s'étend alors du Canada jusqu'à la Louisiane — compte environ 70 000 habitants, contre près d'un million dans les Treize Colonies britanniques. Cet écart démographique colossal pèse lourdement : la France peine à peupler et à défendre son immense territoire, alors que les Anglais disposent d'une puissance humaine et logistique bien supérieure.La guerre de Sept Ans (1756–1763) fut l'aboutissement de cette rivalité impériale. En Europe, elle opposait déjà les grandes puissances ; en Amérique, elle prit la forme d'une véritable guerre coloniale, appelée “French and Indian War” par les Britanniques. Les troupes françaises, alliées à plusieurs nations autochtones, remportèrent d'abord plusieurs succès, notamment sous Montcalm. Mais la supériorité navale britannique et la puissance financière de Londres finirent par renverser la situation. En 1759, la bataille décisive des Plaines d'Abraham, près de Québec, scella le sort de la colonie : les généraux Montcalm et Wolfe y trouvèrent la mort, et Québec tomba entre les mains britanniques.Mais la défaite militaire ne suffit pas à expliquer la perte du Canada. À Versailles, le roi Louis XV et ses ministres considéraient la colonie comme secondaire par rapport aux Antilles, sources de sucre, d'or blanc et de richesses. Lors des négociations du traité de Paris, la France préféra conserver la Guadeloupe et la Martinique, plus rentables économiquement, en abandonnant le Canada, jugé “un pays de quelques arpents de neige”, selon la formule célèbre du philosophe Voltaire.La perte du Canada illustre donc un choix stratégique autant qu'une défaite. Elle marque la fin de la présence française en Amérique du Nord continentale, mais pas de l'influence française, qui subsista par la langue, la religion et la culture. Ironie de l'histoire : quelques années plus tard, la France soutiendra les colons américains dans leur lutte contre l'Angleterre — une revanche symbolique sur la défaite du Canada. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
English, please is a podcast designed to help improve your English by listening to clear, intermediate English about many different topics like history, culture, art, music, travel, and language.Episode 48: Stop Being Afraid to Speak EnglishWhen learning a language, almost everyone at some point feels nervous when it's time to speak. I'm going to share some ways to feel more relaxed and confident when you speak English, and, as with all episodes, this one is just the right length for practicing your listening skills in one sitting. This means you can improve your English without needing a lot of time.Episode vocabularyAccess vocabulary words using a podcast player that supports chapters, like Apple Podcasts, Player FM, Overcast. Episode transcriptPodcast website Buy me a coffee to support the showSubscribe to the newsletter for episode updates and occasional English-language content to help you practice! Hosted by Ausha. See ausha.co/privacy-policy for more information.
The Time Riders: Part 3 What happens when you mix clock-block with priapism? Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Ain't Nobody Got Time For That Shit! Mark and Becky sat in the small cottage, looking around in wonder. They were still in Seventeenth Century France, but found themselves surrounded by technologies that they hadn't even heard of. The walls were lined with clocks, some of which were mechanical, some seemed to be digital or binary, while others told time in ways they couldn't fathom. Sitting across from them at the stout, round oaken table, Chester Edgerton smoked a pipe and observed them casually. "How; how can you have this all out on display?" Mark asked, still gaping. "I mean, isn't it against the rules to have this sort of tech from the future lying around where the locals might bump into it?" "That's the beauty of it, my' boy," he said cheerfully, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "They can't see it." "Well, I get it if you try to restrict entry to your house," Mark pressed, wanting to understand. "But what if you're gone and bandits break in? Becks and I can account for banditry in this day and age, for sure." "Mayhap," the man replied. "But I brought you through the door that leads to my actual house. The front door, the one the local peasantry sees, leads into a simple cottage, typical of the period, and owned by a pudgy man of indeterminate nationality." "Your; house is in two places at once?" Mark asked, trying to understand. "No, it's the same place," Chester answered simply. "Two different times, however. We're sitting in my actual abode, Twenty-First Century." Mark shook his head. "That's some weird Tardis shit right there." "Only at first." Chester allowed. "I notice you have all your windows shut," Becky remarked. "You said we're in the Twenty-First Century, but I take from further ahead than Mark and I are from, so you're not showing us?" "Clever girl," mused the man, smiling. "While I won't absolutely stop you from looking or even going outside, I would warn you that if you do and see something you don't like, you're committing yourself to that future, no matter how hard you try to undo it." "We'll stay put then," she said readily. "You were kind enough to bring us here and sort of explain how we might acquire goods in the time stream?" He nodded. "I know it might seem counter-intuitive, but the simple fact of the matter is that if people are going to insist on time travelling, the least they can do is be well-prepared for it so they don't hurt themselves or others." He leaned forward. "The first question you need to ask yourself is, why are you so intent on time-travelling to begin with? Is it simple curiosity? Are you planning to make a living somehow? Are you just trying to get laid?" He looked at Mark during this last question and the young man blushed, while Becky giggled and patted his hand. "Mark was a dud in Physics in his last year of high school," she explained. "Come to think of it, he was in little or no danger of getting into any post-secondary education facility." "Thanks." Mark muttered. "But, then he found his time machine, something called a Holmes Field Device, and he resolved to go back in time a few months and convince me to give him an A in Physics with the promise of earth-shaking sex." "This story sounds worse every time I hear it." Mark complained. "Fortunately, I acquiesced, rather than disemboweling him for breaking into my home, and not only did we become lovers, but now we're adventuring the time stream together." "Hmm, a teacher and a student, eh?" mused the man, smiling at them as he smoked. "Teachers and students are plentiful, of course, but they're usually from the far, far future and on very strictly-controlled excursions into the past. Hands-on history classes, if you will." "That makes history sound kinda fun." Mark said. "Oh, I daresay it is," agreed Chester. "Nothing quite as exciting as going back to the Cretaceous Period and taking a ride on the back of a trained Styracosaurus. Or watching Dromer races." "Isn't that screwing with the timeline?" Becky inquired. "I mean, humans weren't around for another sixty-three million years following the demise of the dinosaurs." "It's all very carefully regulated on remote islands," Chester explained. "It does nothing to mess with the ecosystem and the specimens are trained to interact with humans, for the most part." "Riding one of those big horned dinosaurs would be a kick." Mark mused, grinning. "You've already got a perfectly good horn I like to ride," Becky giggled, squeezing his hand again. "Besides, this is where our host tells us that it won't be possible for us any time soon." "You're a very perceptive young lady," he allowed. "We can't have just anyone mucking up the time stream, you know. It's especially difficult when people who lived before time travel was commonly accepted try to get involved. They inevitably get exposed to technologies they shouldn't be aware of, or events that weren't known during their own time;” "I'll give you a tiny example," he said, leaning forward now, as if he was confiding a secret. "Have you heard of the Tunguska Incident?" "Sure, the Tunguska region in Siberia, 1908," Becky answered, nodding. "A large meteor slammed into the ground, creating a blast equal to sixty megatons and flattening everything for nearly a hundred miles around." "No, that's what you need to think," he corrected, pointing the stem of his pipe toward them. "It was, in fact, an advanced weapon that was stolen from a future date, and before temporal agents could recover it, the thieves blew it up to cover their escape. Granted, there are people in your time who have conspiracy theories about nuclear blast, nearly forty years before the first atomic tests, but they're wrong as well. It wasn't a nuclear device, simply a weapon with an incredibly high conventional yield by your age's standards." "So; why can you tell us this now?" Becky asked. He grinned and spread out his arms in a gesture of farce. "Who would believe you?" "So how did you know that we were time travelers?" Mark asked as they followed their host and guide through the woods. "Well, I heard snippets of your conversation," Chester said as he led the way. "But to be honest, even though your outfits might pass with locals for 'reasonably authentic', you couldn't possibly hide your origins from a fellow time-traveler. Mark claimed to be Spanish, he doesn't look at all Spanish, certainly not from this era. Miss Rebecca is remarkably tall for a woman." "Well there's something I don't hear very often back home!" she giggled. "And you're both in strangely good health, with unblemished skin and full heads of hair," Chester added. "I was relatively certain, and then I heard you discussing your relative inexperience, so I sought to introduce myself." "I'd' have thought that you wouldn't introduce yourself to newbies," Mark stated, helping Becky over a log. "Isn't it safer to keep your chatter to people who know what they're doing?" "It's actually the exact opposite," replied Chester. "The best thing you can do around veteran time travelers you don't need to talk to is to not talk to them. Their timelines are probably very intricate and you don't want yours getting snarled up with them. Newbies, as you call them, probably still have linear experiences that are simple to understand and educating them about what awaits is the simplest way to keep things from getting weird." Getting up to leave the cottage, Mark asked; "So this device the time cops gave me," Mark stated, holding up his chronometer. "It's actually pretty useful then, because it warns me when I'm getting too close to myself or something I've affected." "That was very generous of them," Chester said in a serious tone. "They don't do that for just everyone who shows up suddenly in the time stream. Sometimes they let matters work themselves out, if you know what I mean." Chester's Forest Farewell. The meadow they stepped into, had a mature lush forest further back. They reached a small clearing in the forest they'd been tromping through and stopped for a bit, sitting on a fallen tree trunk. Chester looked at them both and slapped his hands on his thighs. "Now then, I've brought you here so that you can witness a casual event that is due to happen just outside the woods. Nothing major, but it will give you a taste of what can await you. I have something to attend to and should be back in a few hours. Just stay out of sight and don't leave the tree line." "You're leaving?" Mark protested. Chester turned to look at him. "It might be that the events you will see unfold work better for me if I am nowhere near them," the man replied. "Fear not, I shall return. Enjoy yourselves." And then he walked into the woods and was gone. Mark looked around and finally sighed. "Helluva way to mentor someone," he muttered as he stood to take in a panoramic context. "Take 'em somewhere and then just fuck off? Nice." "He's not your mentor, Mark," Becky chided, sitting on a log and smiling at him. "He's a fellow time traveler who is doing you a favor. He's given you plenty of valuable information free of charge already, something I doubt he does frequently." "Well, okay," Mark allowed. "So, we just wait until we see something happen?" "No idea when that'll be, he didn't really tell us, did he?" Becky pointed out. "Yup," Mark sighed. "So, now what?" Becky tilted her head slightly as she looked at him, like there was something wrong with his brain. "Here's an idea. How about you come over here and fuck me?" Mark was so determined to be bent out of shape for having no instructions that he'd overlooked the completely obvious. He laughed and stepped forward, pulling Becky to her feet. They were holding their hands between them and staring into one another's eyes, smiling. "Now this is what time travel is all about," she purred, her eyes shining with delight. "You're going to fuck me in the woods in Louis the Sun King's France, Mark. For all we know, this is some sort of royal ground and we're trespassing. How many people can say they've done that?" "Just the lucky ones;” he replied, beginning to unfasten the clasps on her dress, freeing her chest from its confines. As the dress fell away, she was left standing on in a low-cut, blouse-like shirt and some panties, having chosen to forego the usual layers of buntlings and knickers. She bit her lip as he pulled her blouse over her head, exposing her glorious tits. Kneeling now, he slowly slid her panties down, feeling a thrill as her hairless, smooth cunt came into view. She stepped out of the tiny thong panties, letting him drink in the sight of her. Yes, he'd been with her for over a week now in France, but he never tired of seeing her beautiful body. "Your turn now, my lord." Becky whispered as she began removing his clothing, peeling away the layers until he was as naked as herself. She stood up again and moved close, her nipples gently kissing against his chest. Unable to hold back any more, Mark pulled his teacher to him and kissed her deeply, making Becky moan into his mouth. Their hands wandered over one another's now-familiar forms, seeking to stimulate, tease and pleasure. His hands found her pert ass cheeks and he squeezed them, causing her to moan again. "Hmm, can't wait to get some grass stains on this dress," she murmured, looking up into his eyes. "And maybe a few on my knees." She slowly knelt in front of Mark, kissing and nipping at his skin on the way down. His swelling phallus was in front of her face now and she licked her lips hungrily before taking gentle hold and kissing it. Mark closed his eyes and shivered, loving the feel of her lips on him. Everything about his teacher was incredible. He was just sorry it had taken so long to realize it. Becky now had the head of his cock inside her warm, wet mouth, swirling her tongue around flicking the tip of her tongue against him. She giggled as his rod throbbed and grew longer and harder. She loved how turned on he could get by her, it made her feel so primal and sexual. She then slid her mouth a little further down his shaft before pulling back, shivering in delight at the sight of his glistening skin. Mark's fingers were in her hair and flexing gently as she began to bob back and forth, taking more and more of him into her mouth. She hummed lightly, vibrating her lips around him and making him groan. Her hand rested on the shaft, pumping as it followed her lips, making a gentle twisting motion on the sensitive skin. Becky loved sucking cock, and Mark's was ridiculously perfect for her, in just about every possible way. She hoped that wouldn't be a problem down the road. She took gentle hold of his hips with both hands and moved back and forth along his shaft, breathing through her nose as she deep-throated him. Mark groaned in pleasure, his fingers flexing into her scalp and tugging her hair. She looked up at him, maintaining eye contact, which she knew he found so erotic. She could feel his skin growing warm and knew now was the time to stop and change things up if she intended to have his cock inside her. There was indeed one good thing about them being out of sync, with her current self three months behind him; they already knew she wasn't pregnant in his current timeline, so he could cum deep inside her as much as they liked. She pulled her mouth off his with a wet 'pop!' and smiling seductively. "I'm thinking maybe my girl wants to say hello too;” she purred. Mark nodded and spread out her dress before lying down on it, his rock-hard cock standing straight up and throbbing. Becky crawled over him, straddling his face, her creamy, wet cunt mere inches from his mouth. She faced down his body, giggling and he snaked his tongue out to taste her, but she kept her prize just out of reach. "So that's how it is, eh?" he said from below her before suddenly wrapping his arms around her thighs and pulling down on them and causing her to lurch unexpectedly (for her) onto his eager mouth. Becky shuddered and moaned loudly as his tongue snaked along and massaged her nether lips, before flickering against her throbbing clit to make her gasp and almost double over. "No fair;” she panted, trying to regain control of herself, but Mark seemed inclined to cheat. He kept her pinned to him, leaving her to squirm helplessly above him while he lashed her with his tongue. "Uh, you bastard; yes, right there; Oh, God, Mark;” Her pleas exhorted him to even greater measures. He was determined to make her cum on his mouth at least once before they fucked. And he seemed to be pretty damned good at making her cum with oral sex, he had to say. Becky squirmed on top of him, playing wither tits, pinching and pulling on her pink nipples, her eyes squeezed shut, because it almost felt too good if she was looking at him. His eager tongue snaked deep inside her hungry cunt, making her wetter still. He had this maddening technique where he formed shapes or letters inside her with his tongue, reaching almost every nook and cranny of her. She whimpered, knowing he intended to make her cum and she was more than happy to oblige. She leaned forward while sitting on his face, reaching out to his twitching cock, caressing and massaging it gently; she didn't want him to cum, she just wanted to keep him stimulated. She felt the thrill of anticipation, knowing it would soon be inside her, pumping in and out, throbbing and finally releasing his creamy essence into her, something she accepted gladly because of the temporal mechanics between them. Mark sucked her clit into his mouth, rolling it around and making her shudder, groaning deeply as something started to build within her. She pushed down onto his face with her hips, grinding eagerly, while her clit throbbed. Then her released it and pushed his tongue deep inside her again, probing and lashing her until she was writhing and panting heavily. "Oh, God, Mark;” she gasped, sweat streaming from her sensual form. "Oh, fuck, yes, please; Uh, so close, baby;” He pushed into her as hard as he could and she jerked and squeaked arching her back. Her whole frame was wracked with pleasure as she cried out loudly, the orgasm crashing through her until she almost couldn't breathe. She shook violently, her eyes rolling into her head before she collapsed on top of him, her body limp and her chest heaving. Her limbs felt like tingling lead, but she managed to lift one to find his cock, determined to keep him hard until she had recovered. She stroked him gently while he kissed at her gooey nether lips, his face glistening with her cum. Fortunately, Becky was insatiable and recovered quickly, slowly rising and then sidling forward down his body so she could look back at him and smirk. "How about it, big boy?" she asked coyly. "You ready for the main event?" Mark grinned and nodded while she slithered down his body, finally hovering over his hips while facing his feet. She took hold of his throbbing cock and teased it against her slippery entrance before sinking down, making them both sigh in relief. "Hallelujah;” she moaned as he bottomed out inside her, filling her completely. "Oh, that's exactly what the doctor ordered." Mark nodded and took hold of her silken, pert ass cheeks and gripped them firmly, making his teacher purr. Becky loved having her ass played with, and while she began to sink up and down slowly on his cock, he massaged the peach-like orbs, eliciting moans from her when he spread them wide, giving her a delicious stretch. "Hmm, get me nice and ready back there," she cooed as she moved up and down on him. "Because once you're done in my cunt, I want you in my ass and I want to feel your cum in it." Mark nodded eagerly, because he loved fucking Becky's ass. Her cunt was incredibly tight, but even that couldn't match her exquisite back passage, which gripped him so strongly and always made him cum so hard he thought he might faint. His fingers teased against her little puckered, pink knot, sending the most divine tingles through her luscious body. Becky undulated on him, picking up the pace and counting on Mark to control himself until her was in her ass. She bit her lower lip, working herself on that thick, throbbing tool, pulling up until it was almost out of her and then sinking back down in one long stroke, filling her completely. Her heart was strumming in her chest as she thrilled to the notion of the oncoming climax. She was hissing now, struggling to hold on just a few seconds longer, to draw out this wonderful pleasure for them both. But then she felt the point of no return and willingly stepped over it, moaning loudly as her cunt fluttered and she began to cum, hard. She wailed and rocked on her lover, bathing his middle with her excitement. Her head lolled for several seconds as she came down from her orgasm, but she remembered that she still had Mark inside her and needed him, promised him, that he would be cumming in her ass. Slowly, lethargically, she raised herself until his cock fell out of her, still rock-hard and yearning for more. For such a young man, he had exceptional control. She inched forward, until she felt his pulsing head teasing against her notch. She reached underneath herself and took hold of the shaft, holding him steady while she pressed down, slowly but surely. She heard him groan as the head popped through her tight ring suddenly and then he was sliding inside her. It was Heaven. She sat still for several seconds, just reveling in the feel of him filling her ass. She felt the need to be sensual, and she leaned backward, until she was resting her back on his torso, her head next to his. But her knees were still bent and she groaned like she was going to burst, the angle of his penetration in this position more than she could bear. Whispering for him to wait patiently, she slowly, sinuously slid her legs out from beneath herself and straightened them, relaxing in pleasure as they rested on Mark's thighs. "Sorry, that would've downright killed me right now," she whispered to him, her glassy, heavily-lidded eyes looking into his. "And I wanted to be down her to kiss you and let you fondle me as you fucked me and came in me." "Sounds like a plan," he agreed readily, his strong, but gentle hands coming up to rest on her opulent tits. Her began caressing and massaging them in circles while Becky started moving her ass on top of his cock, squeezing him inside her tight confines. "God, I love your ass, Becky." "Umm, it loves your cock, Mark," she purred, undulating on him, the throb of his tool being felt through her whole body like another heartbeat. "You always make me cum so hard;” They squirmed and ground together, with Mark tilting his hips up to push inside her while Becky squeezed him, the lovers shuddering as they kissed feverishly. His hands were squeezing her tits now, pinching and pulling on the nipples again to make her groan with the delicious sting. But Mark felt his climax approach and he knew it wouldn't be long before he was pumping his cum inside her. Becky moaned into his mouth as she felt his cock swelling and twitching erratically, a sure sign he was about to cum. She squeezed him tighter, feeling the buildup inside herself, yearning to share that unreal ecstasy. The groaned into one another mouths at first, but then the kiss was broken as they panted, fighting for air, their voices carrying around the woods they were in. He pushed up hard inside her, pulling down on her tits while she squeezed with all her might, his cum almost searing hot inside her, filling her up. Mark went limp, breathing heavily and clearly spent, not that he minded. Becky could barely move, bound in ropes of silken bliss that kissed every nerve in her body. Her own heartbeat plus the relentless throb of Mark's rigid cock, still oozing inside her, almost meant she didn't know how to center herself. But they relaxed together finally, kissing gently, eyes closed while they clasped hand on top of her tits. Tongues softly tangled, tasting one another while they let their rapture slowly ebb. Minutes passed and they lay silently, waiting for Mark's cock to soften so Becky could sit up. Finally, she giggled, squeezing his hands. "Feels like somebody doesn't wanna go to sleep," she said cutely, wiggling her ass on him, feeling her ass refusing to relinquish its hard-earned prize. "What're we gonna do?" "Iono," he said drowsily. "We just wait, I guess. If I try to have another orgasm right now, I'm pretty sure he'd just spontaneously combust inside you." "Alas, poor cock," she cooed, stroking his cheek. "I guess we happily wait, then." They closed their eyes and relaxed, waiting for Mark's erection to subside so that they could get up without difficulty. Their hands remained at rest on her tits while they nuzzled their cheeks together. Then there was a 'click!' sound. Arrest in Flagrante delicto. Becky's eyes snapped open and she goggled up at a man dressed in rather colorful and opulent period clothing, staring down at them as he pointed a flintlock rifle at their face. Looking around, she now saw they were surrounded by men carrying pikes and muskets, all of whom stared at the naked couple with varying level of interest. The man directly over them moved his musket muzzle, indicating they should sit up. Mark's eyes were open by now and he glanced around in confusion as well, clearly not understanding what had happened. The man's eyes narrowed and he moved the musket muzzle again. Becky, sensing the danger they were suddenly in, tried to move, but shivered; she was still impaled on Mark's solid cock, which had shown no signs of softening and kept her pinned against him. She couldn't get up. "Great time to develop priapism, Mark;” she said sourly. "Maybe Louis the Sun King's France just isn't for us after all," Mark sighed as he hiked along behind Becky, who had been stuffed hurriedly back into her dress while he was allowed to put on his breeches again. Neither of them even had shoes on as they followed the soldiers. Their hands were tied behind their backs. "This is twice now that we've;“ "I know, Mark, I was there," Becky said somewhat tersely, wondering if Chester Edgeworth was now someone she had to add to her shit list. She hated adding names to the shit list. "I guess we were so busy fucking that the event our host meant for us to witness has found us." "Tais-tois!" one of the men guarding them said as he walked nearby with a musket. "Vou ne pouvez-pas parler!" Becky scowled at the man and continued trudging. She wasn't really embarrassed about being caught fucking, it wasn't the first time it had happened to them here in France. But at least this lot had the decency to let her have an orgasm first before taking them prisoner. She couldn't even enjoy the grass stains on her clothes! They had exited the woods and were now tromping through a field, heading toward a much larger cluster of soldiers. Mark couldn't help but notice that a lot of them were wearing red. "Shit;” Becky muttered as she saw them as well. "That's all we need." "Huh?" Mark asked, but he was silenced when a soldier shoved him roughly from behind with his musket, indicating he was to stay quiet. They approached the encampment and Mark soon realized there were several hundred soldiers. The tents were spread out around one rather illustrious red tent of grand size. He then saw a cluster of cavaliers milling about and they seemed to be headed in that direction. Soldiers stared at them as they entered the perimeter of the camp, usually at Becky. Mark and Becky found themselves hauled in front of the cavaliers, who parted, making way for a single man on horseback. He was at least middle-aged, with a somewhat grey pallor to his skin and thin, hawk-like features. His expression was a rather lemony one, as if he felt inconvenienced by this entire incident. For all that, though, his dark eyes glinted with intelligence. He was wearing the flowing red habits of a high-ranking member of the Catholic church, although he had a burnished breastplate on his chest as well. "You stand in the presence of his Eminence, the Cardinal Richelieu," announced the captain of the troops that had taken them prisoner. Mark's eyes went wide. He didn't speak French, but he'd seen enough Three Musketeers movie reboots to know who Cardinal Richelieu was and exactly what sort of deep shit they were suddenly in. "Show respect!" Becky dropped to one knee and bowed her head, looking at the ground. Mark rapidly followed suit, since she probably had a better grasp of the situation than he did. He could feel everyone's eyes and on them and it was beginning to weigh heavily, like a yoke around his neck. His face flushed, but he said nothing. "Who are these persons?" the cardinal asked finally. "Your names, my children." "My name is Rebecca, your Eminence," Becky said humbly, still not looking up. "And you, good sir?" the Cardinal asked, looking over at Mark now. "M; me llamo Marco del strade, tu Eminencia." Mark stammered. "A Spaniard," mused the Cardinal, pursing his lips. "In the presence of a peasant girl. And you both have unusual accents, I admit." "Your Eminence," said one of the captains, looking at them suspiciously. "This man, why is he here traipsing about Champagne like this? With this peasant girl? We found them in the woods, doing unspeakable carnal acts to one another." The Cardinal's eyebrow arched and he looked on in seeming distaste. "You don't say." "Very likely he is a spy for King Phillip, your Eminence!" said the captain, almost sneering. "No, your Eminence," Becky said suddenly, her voice full of concern. "I assure you, he is no spy!" Mark hadn't heard or understood everything the Frenchmen were saying to one another, but he understood 'espion' and his teacher's reaction indicated that he was in some kind of trouble. Go figure. "And what grounds can you give me to believe you, child?" the Cardinal asked with feigned interest. "Please," she begged, her head still bowed. "You have my utmost assurances he is no spy, he's an idiot!" This made the men around them laugh and even Richelieu grunted in amusement. "Both of you rise." Mark saw Becky get to her feet and he did the same. All around them, men with pikes and muskets were watching them warily, some of them levelling weapons at the pair. Clearly they took the Cardinal's safety seriously. Richelieu observed them with interest. "The girl is very unusual," he mused. "Tall, very healthy and very beautiful. Very, very beautiful. I know only one other of such unmatched attractiveness." Mark wasn't sure where this was going, but he doubted it was good. The Cardinal's interest in him was waning. "And yet you say you found her acting in a most carnal and un-ladylike manner in the woods, hmm?" Richelieu continued. "Well, it certainly won't do for her to be out here alone in the countryside, rutting like a nymph, would it? Perhaps her majesty could make use of the girl, once we fix her atrocious accent." "My what?" Becky snapped, looking offended now. "Put her in the cart, we'll bring her to the capital, with regards to the Queen." Richelieu declared, turning his horse about and riding off. Men began to try and wrangle Becky into one of the carts, many of them laughing and leering as they took the opportunity to grope her. Gut shot. "Hey, stop that!" Mark said angrily, surging forward, but he suddenly found himself confronted by a captain, who stared at him impassively. There was a sudden and frightfully loud 'crack!' sound and Mark halted suddenly, his eyes wide. Becky's head snapped around at the noise and her eyes went wide. Blinking, Mark slowly looked down and saw there was a very red puncture hole in his abdomen. Sounds slowed down, taking on an almost syrupy quality and he started to feel confused. Becky screamed and tried to force her way to him, but she was being hustled away by many guards. The man who had shot him wandered off, sliding his flintlock pistol back into a holster, clearly no longer caring about Mark. Everyone seemed to be wandering off now. He felt cold, and vaguely nauseous. The ugly red wound in his stomach pulsed, blood welling from it slowly. He felt himself toppling over, white light bathing the field around him. He could still see things, but they seemed distant. He tried to focus on something, finally identifying Becky's voice as she screamed for him. He could just make out the soldiers wrestling her into a cart while she struggled and kicked savagely, her face contorted in rage. "I'll Get You For This, Richelieu!" she roared as Mark's world was absorbed by the soft white light. "You Just Made The Shit List Of High Doom!! See If I Ever Dance A Sarabande For You, Pal!" Mark bolted upright suddenly, gasping. His eyes were wide and he was covered in sweat. His heart thundered in his chest and he fought to control his panic. The white light was slowly replaced by close walls of grey stone. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing. His hands bunched against sheets that were covering him. Finally, he could breathe normally and he tried to organize his thoughts. He still felt confused, everything a total jumble. "Calm yourself. Think!" He'd been fucking Becky in the woods. Apparently they were waiting for Cardinal Richelieu to go by, which he guessed passed for a historical event, seeing the man. But the Cardinal's soldiers heard the two of them and took them prisoner. Then they took Becky and Mark tried to stop them and got shot in the stomach; His eyes snapped open and he was frozen in place. He forced himself to look down at his middle, seeing that he was still covered in a sheet. His hand was trembling as he moved it slowly toward the heavy, dun-colored blanket, sweat trickling from his brow as he felt fear rise in his throat. He flung away the sheet suddenly, unable to bear not knowing. He wasn't bleeding. There was no puncture wound, only a strange, round scar about two inches in diameter. Eyes wide, he slowly lifted his head and looked around, now noticing his environs; he was indeed in a small bedroom, the curtains drawn to keep out the light and very little in the way of décor. Just a chair and a table in one corner, some other surfaces with candles spaced around the room. His bed was solid and comfortable. "Ah, there you are," Chester Edgerton said as he came through the door. "I was beginning to think you had no intentions of waking up." "Where;” Mark said somewhat feebly. "Back at my place," Chester answered, sitting down in the chair and settling in for what was no doubt going to be a long and perhaps trying conversation. "I found you lying in the middle of the field nearly a kilometer from where I'd left you and you were very close to dead." "How did I;” "You should have died," Chester continued. "But ultimately you wouldn't have, due to a time lock, I'm assuming. You weren't meant to die there in that field. Luckily for you, there are still plenty of ways to get yourself killed for doing absurd things." "Why did you leave us in the first place?" Mark asked. "I've been around Richelieu and several of his captains at various points in the time stream, and it's getting difficult to manage," Chest replied, shrugging. "Best way to deal with that issue is to simply not be present." "So why leave us there?" "To see Richelieu, of course," the man said simply. "One of history's truly great men, certainly more so than that twit of a king he serves. I was just trying to ease you into the idea of witnessing historical events. It never occurred to me that you'd be found because you made your teacher yodel like a Swiss Miss when you flagranting the delicto with her. I admit I hadn't planned for that nonsense." Mark blushed. "So, what, I wasn't meant to die here, so my body just healed itself?" Chester laughed. "Oh, no, dear boy, nothing of the sort. I came back to the woods, as promised, as when you weren't there, I began noticing the tracks of many solid shoes and boots in the vicinity. Not to mention the clothes you left behind." "Yeah, sorry, I was kinda tied up at the moment." Mark muttered. "In any event, I followed the tracks, noticed that Richelieu had broken camp and then found you. You'd been lying there for nearly three hours, you should have been dead from blood loss, but you weren't. I brought you back here, removed the ball from your stomach and then healed you." "You can do that?" Mark asked. "I thought you said you were a dealer in chroniques." "It helps to have a few irons in the fire and some hidden talents if you're going to mess around in the time stream," Chester replied. "But I was under no obligation to complicate my life and save you." "I guess I'm glad you did," Mark sighed. "Thanks. But wouldn't I have healed anyway?" "Yes, but maybe not fully," replied the enigmatic dealer. "You might've been found by some local peasants, brought back to their hovel and spent life as a weakened vegetable until you died of the Plague. People die in the past all the time, Mark, and everyone in their own era thinks they just disappeared and mourns them. It's frightfully common." "Can I; can I see the tools you used to heal me?" Mark asked hopefully. "Nope," Chester replied, shaking his head. "They're from your future by a few hundred years, the only reason I used them at all was because you were out cold." "Uh, how long was I out, anyway?" "Almost a month," Chester answered, smoothing a corner of his pencil moustache. "I had you fully healed and ready for action by the next day, to be honest, but you just refused to come to. So, I just left you to it, figuring you would wake up when you felt like it." "Oh, shit," Mark breathed, realizing something. "Where's Becky?" Chester raised his hands. "Why would I know? I wasn't there. What do you remember?" Mark tried to concentrate while Chester got up and poured a glass of water. Mark drank it thirstily and placed the glass on the table. He found himself wishing that he'd taken French instead of Spanish in school. He'd thought Spanish might be more useful, but all it did was get him shot. Fuck that. "I don't really speak French, so this is hard. Umm; they thought I was a spy because they thought I was Spanish." "Because you've been presenting yourself as Spanish while you're here," Chester mused. "In spite of your outrageous accent. France has been at war with Spain on and off for some time now." "Whatever," Mark grumbled. "They seemed really interested in Becky." "To be expected, she is quite lovely. I dare say I've only known one woman in this entire era to match her beauty." "Well, I think I heard them say 'capital', and then I think 'la reigne', which means queen, right?" "Indeed it does," Chester agreed. "My bet, then, is that your teacher has been taken by the Cardinal to be presented as a gift to her majesty, Queen Anne, to serve as one of her ladies-in-waiting." "Why would he do that?" Mark asked, frowning. "I've seen enough Three Musketeers movies to know that the Cardinal and the Queen hate each other." Chester smiled. "It's a game he plays with her. As the years go on, Anne is, sadly, getting 'a little long in the tooth', to borrow a phrase. She remains dignified and regal, but her best days are behind here, where attractiveness is concerned. Richelieu now takes great delight in surrounding her with women of magnificent beauty, seemingly a gesture of devotion, but really meant to hurt the queen's feelings." "What a dick." Mark muttered. "You have no idea," Chester said dryly. "If they got her back to the city roughly a week after she was taken, then she's been with the royal court for three." "Meaning that she's either loving life as a lady-in-waiting, or she's killed and eaten them all," Mark said heavily. "I guess I have to go get her." "I can't imagine this not being amusing," Chester said, smirking. "But out of morbid curiosity, how, exactly, will you affect this rescue?' "I dunno," Mark said, shrugging. "But I can't leave her. She'd kill me." "She probably thinks you're dead, I feel obliged to point out." Chester mentioned. "She saw you suffer a mortal wound at point-blank range. You should be dead and only an as-yet undetermined temporal snarl has kept you alive. I wouldn't count on that again if I were you." "Well I can't do nothing!" Mark insisted in frustration. Chester tilted his head, observing his guest for a moment. "Do you love this woman?" Mark blushed furiously. "I; no, I don't love her, or if I do, then I'm not in love with her. There's a difference, ya' know." "Well and truly said, Boccaccio," Chester chuckled. "Well, if there's no stopping you, then I'll see what I can do to discretely help you." "Why?" Mark queried. "I've got a friggin' time machine. All I need to do is get there, zip in and zip out." "Correct me if I am wrong," interjected his host. "But did you not tell me, early on in our association, that your current self is from three months in the future of the Miss Rebecca that I know." Mark nodded. "And you plan to add another layer of temporal travel on top of that wedding cake of disaster?" Chester mused. "Rebecca could be subtly altering the timelines in Paris now with her very presence, involuntary as it might be. Your oh-so-carefully laid plan could simply not work because of a slight temporal consideration." "So you're saying no time machine." Mark stated flatly, not impressed. "I'm saying the idea is bad. Atari Jaguar bad," Chester replied. "If you intend to do this hare-brained thing, allow me to assist you in what moderate ways I can." "What, you've got some funky tech or weapons you can loan me?" "We'll see about that, but more importantly, I guess I'll call in a favor. A certain person who moves in the circle of the royal court owes me a small boon, and I can use it to assist you. They happen to be an accomplished master of intrigue and getting out of sticky situations, with a blade if necessary." Mark's eyes lit up. "Is it D'Artagnan?" "Only if you want to get Clock-Hammered out of existence," Chester laughed, shaking his head. "Everybody wants to meet Charles de Batz, thinking they're going to see D'Artagnan of Three Musketeers fame, and then it just turns out he's a bad-tempered Gascon who loves to punch people who bother him. He's punched more time-travelers than Jesus, I'm pretty sure." Chester then went over to a drawer and rummaged around inside it, finally pulling out a yellowing envelope that was sealed with wax. "I assure you, the agent I am referring you to will be much more effective than D'Artagnan. I will send you with instructions about where in Paris to meet them and offer them this envelope. Warning, though, if they see it is opened, they will simply refuse to help and go away to where you cannot find them. Are you strong enough to keep from opening the letter?" Mark nodded. "Well, then," Chester announced, opening a bottle of wine and pouring two cups. "Shall we drink a toast to your success, o Macro del Strade of Seville?" Palace Mission. Mark was sitting on the back of a hay wagon, wondering if he could really pull this insane plan off. In addition to the letter, Chester Edgeworth had indeed furnished him with a few small devices and curious that they hopefully would help him, though it cost him almost all the rest of his money. Chester pointed out he was a businessman and didn't intend to take a loss just because some idiot created a time crisis for himself. Fair enough. Mark tried not to play with the little bud that sat deep in his ear; Chester had sold it to him, saying that it could translate languages, speaking into Mark's ear whatever he was focusing on. It could also possibly formulate phrases; if he spoke in English, it could tell him the closest translation to what he was saying. This model was old, though, and only spoke the French of this period. Chester didn't want him getting any clever ideas with a more powered-up version, since if something bad happened, it might come back on him. The reasoning initially annoyed Mark, but the more he thought about it, he reminded himself that he was here to rescue Becky. Nothing else. He thought about the conversation he'd had with their host while drinking wine and planning his initial move, heading to Paris. "So why did you begin time-travelling at all?" the man had asked. "Well, I;” Mark started saying, unsure of how to answer. "I found a time machine. Seems perfectly logical to use it." "Granted, but what's your personal motivation, Mark?" he asked. "Is it to see glorious historical events, are you a treasure hunter, a thrill-seeker who wants to run with the Dromaesaurs?" Mark blushed now. "Honest? I thought it'd be cool to have sex with women from history." To his amazement, Chester didn't laugh uproariously, he simply smiled and shrugged. "More common than you would think, especially amongst men your age, who are full of hormones. Let me ask, then; was getting laid in your own time-period difficult?" "Not really, no." "Well it's not any easier in the time stream, just so you know," Chester pointed out. "In some periods of history, it can be even harder, where religious fervor runs rampant and sexual repression is the law of the land. I assume you wouldn't go as far as to rape a girl." Mark shook his head. "Lots of men do when they find out that having sex in the past is harder than they anticipated," Chester said almost sadly, shaking his head. "You're one of the better ones. But for all that, the problem remains; getting into bed or a rug with Cleopatra is pretty much next to impossible. You might as well hope to seduce Scarlett Johansson when you're no one in particular." "Hey, I got Becky, didn't I?" Mark had protested. "Dumb luck, really, and she's a remarkable woman. Have you had sex with any women aside from Becky since you came to the Sun King's France?" He shrugged. "A few, I shared 'em with Becky." "Peasants, I assume?" "Mostly, yeah," Mark admitted. "There was one sophisto girl, but Becky did the talking and charmed the knickers off her for us." "If it weren't for Becky, you'd be completely out of your league here, boyo," Chester said simply. "And trust me, it won't get easier. Even history buffs who think they know everything get caught and pay the price. There's the history you know, the history you don't know, and the history that you don't know that you don't know." "What?" "What year did World War Two end?" Chester asked. "Simple. 1945." "So you know that. What year did the Crimean War start?" "I've heard of it, but I don't know anything about it." "Something you know that you don't know. Okay, tell me about the League of Ages Twelfth Nicean Temporal Council." "The what?" "Exactly," Chester had said emphatically, leaning forward and pointing with his wine glass to make a point. "An incredibly important historic event that you've never even heard of, but it happened all the same. Can you imagine trying to do something that conflicted with that? You wouldn't even know what clock-hammered you, or why; because only a practiced temporal traveler would be aware of the event at all. Time travel can be tedious." "It's certainly becoming less and less fun by the moment." Mark grumbled. "Probably the smartest thing you've said since you found that Holmes-Field Device," Chester agreed. "Life would be a lot easier if casual nitwits like yourself walked the other way when a time machine appeared in their path." "But don't you make a living selling to people like me?" Mark asked. "Hardly," Chester almost snorted. "Nitwits like you rarely have anything to even pay me with and usually require drastic amounts of assistance. No, my friend, the majority of my income is derived from customers who hail from the far future where time travel is an established industry and carefully regulated. Now those people are my bread and butter." "Did Becky and I really stand out?" Mark asked somewhat dully. "More and more with each passing moment," Chester answered. "You're too tall, too healthy, you have all your teeth, and your accents are absurd." Mark said nothing. "And by the way," added his host. "Those little packets of Airborne that you both carry in your pockets? The little Vitamin C boost things to ward off the sniffles? I can guarantee you that those will in no way, shape or form protect you from illnesses in this era. Only thing it'll do is turn your piss such a bright yellow that people will think you're possessed and the Inquisition will burn you." Mark ended up leaving the packets as a curio that Chester could sell to people from the future who wanted to snicker at how dumb people from the turn-of-the-millennium were. Carting to Paris. He had arranged transport to Paris with the wagon he was now on, making sure the farmer put some extra perk in his horse's step by offering him twice as many sou as was normal. The journey, which would normally take a week, with good weather, was promised to six days because of the extra money. Whatever the difference was between six-day speed and seven-day speed, Mark sure couldn't tell it. His communication with the farmer had been sluggish, certainly, mostly on his end, because he would try to say exactly what his little translator bud told him and he probably sounded like he'd had a stroke when he was speaking. The farmer laughed at his speech, but still did as he was asked. Mostly they slept at the side of the road in the piled hay, but one night they stayed in a roadside inn. Mark's funds were running out fast, even though the food he ate was paltry and rather unappetizing. He had to reach Paris. They then trundled through the town where Mark and Becky had first come to; and Mark hid himself in the straw, figuring it was best to not be seen by people whom he might be familiar with. Even if the innkeeper's two daughters would no doubt readily fuck him again. He fought the temptation to ignore Chester's instructions and simply go get his Holmes-Field Device and use it to rescue his teacher. But he disciplined himself and refrained, he was in enough trouble as it is. Then he meditated; Known knowns. Known unknowns. Unknown unknowns. Fuck. The days and nights passed with Mark trying to keep himself from growing crazy by practicing his French and thinking of his plan. He had no idea whatsoever about what to do once he reached Paris. Get inside the royal palace? He couldn't exactly Google the plans for it, could he? "Regardez la!" the farmer said finally, calling back to Mark and pointing toward the west. As the sun was rising behind them, he could make out a sprawling sea of darkness in the distance, the silhouette of which prickled the sky. Endless plumes of smoke hung over the city as deep grey gave way to dawn behind them. He thought it might actually be pretty. And then the wind wafted over them from the west, bringing the unique scent of fabled Paris. "Jesus!" Mark croaked as he turned green, leaning over the side of the wagon and puking his guts out while the farmer roared with laughter. They entered the city. Mark wandered through the choking maze of streets, gaping at the chaos of architecture around him; houses seemed to almost be built on top of houses, to the place where some of them were leaning over almost drunkenly. The cobblestones of the road were wet and sticky with effluence, there was no way to avoid it. The stench was beyond belief. How had people ever lived like this? He had asked on repeated occasions where he could find La Rue de Grenuie, the place Chester had told him he would find the agent he'd referred to. Mark was reasonably certain most people were being helpful, even if they stared at him like he was an alien. He might as well have been, he was a head taller than just about everyone, clearly well-fed and had all his teeth. Mark had seen jack-o-lanterns with more teeth than most of the denizens of Paris' infamous streets. He took many wrong turns, because where he thought people had told him to go was often a dead end. Eventually, by divine providence, he found himself on the street he'd been asking for, evidenced by an ancient, worn rectangle of wood that said the name in faded green letters. Certain he was on the right track, he headed down the crowded street, stuffing his purse into the front of his breeches, since Chester had told him Paris was home to countless scoundrels who could remove his wealth without him even noticing. The crowds began to thin out somewhat, and the street got narrower, as if that was possible. The cobblestones were also surprisingly dry, not sticky or running with the sewage of the city behind him. Before long, it was barely wide enough to accommodate one person and he felt very uneasy about the rickety buildings that loomed over his head, almost blocking the sky. He then stopped in front of a black iron fence, pitted with age and with a chain wrapped around it. He tilted his head and unwrapped the chain, finding that the gate now swung open freely and with decidedly little noise. He stepped in, closed it behind himself and then fixed the chain back in place as best he could. He found himself walking through a tunnel, the buildings about him now made of stone. Dank and foreboding, he resisted the urge to run, not knowing what lay ahead. Eventually, he came to a small, bare courtyard. It might have been thirty feet by thirty feet and was devoid of almost all decoration. High brick and stone walls concealed it from the chaos of Paris. It was surprisingly quiet, as if the city dared not disturb the austere serenity. There was a single, grey stone bench in the middle of the courtyard. Facing away from him, clad in a great cloak, was a person, the hood thrown over their head to keep the merciless sun off them. Mark swallowed and took a deep breath before beginning to move forward. Was this Chester's agent? If he was, Mark had to be careful, because he'd been told the man was dangerous. He approached slowly, finally coming to a stop some five paces away, still facing the stranger's back. "Hello," he said faltering French. "My name is Mark. I have; sent; to you; today; for big help. I is need big help." "That you do, my friend," replied the person in a strangely lyrical voice. Then closed a small book of devotionals wwhich had clearly been studied and stood, still facing away. "That much is obvious, because your French is painful." Mark blushed in embarrassment as the translator bud told him what the person had said. Still concealed beneath their voluminous midnight-blue cloak, the mysterious person turned around and approached him. He resisted the urge to take a step back as the shrouded presence stood right in front of him. He couldn't help but notice the person was on the taller side, strange for a Parisian. Gloved hands pulled down the hood and Mark's eyes widened in amazement. Shining golden hair spilled in luxurious tresses down the person's back. The eyes were a dazzling blue, glinting with intelligence. The smile was serene, the teeth within white and perfect. Lady Alexandra. <
The Time Riders: Part 2 When you've got a time machine, practice makes perfect. Based on a post by BiscuitHammer, in 16 parts. Listen to the Podcast at Explicit Novels. Always The Student. Mark was lying on his back, panting while Becky squirmed and writhed on top of him, moaning in pleasure. His hands were on her opulent tits, kneading them just how she loved it. The lovers were covered in sweat as she ground her cunt down onto his cock, taking him deep inside. He matched her sensual rhythm, pushing up while she pressed down, squeezing his shaft with each thrust he made. "Yes, Mark;” she gasped, her hands resting on his chest while she writhed on him shamelessly. It didn't matter that she was his former high school Physics teacher, or even that she still was, in a sense, she was committed to fucking him because she'd promised herself she'd enjoy this, and Becky did her damdest to always follow her own advice. "Yes, baby, right there;” Becky now began gyrating her hips in a circle on top of him, interrupting the rhythm that would certainly had led to both of them cumming and she wanted to prolong this session. She felt Mark regain control of himself, adapting to the new pace, although he continued to molest her tits, pinching and tugging on her nipples. Her flawless skin glistened with her exertions, the wonderful scent of a woman making love permeating the air. "Hmm, good boy," she purred, smiling down at him. "You're learning." "I've got the best teacher I could ask for." Mark replied, grinning back. "Forget all the time travel stuff you're helping me figure out, you're amazing in bed, Becky. I've never cum so hard before, not like when I'm with you." "You're so sweet, darling," she cooed, reveling in the feel of his throbbing cock deep inside her. Ever since that night he'd snuck into her home and failed so miserably at trying to seduce her so she would change his Physics grade, they'd become ardent lovers, with her being nearly as addicted to their sex as he was. "You make me cum really hard too, just so you know. And the gift you brought me back from London was so thoughtful. How would you like to fuck me next?" Mark nodded, pondering her question. He had indeed brought her back a gift, from London in the 1880's. He'd come back with a lovely dress from the period and a bottle of Italian wine. Even though she had never accompanied him on a temporal trip (except that very first one, to prove he had a time machine at all), she seemed to have an innate understanding of how to time travel without screwing things up, which was very easy. He took hold of her hips and slowly rolled her onto her stomach. She purred as she pushed her legs together and then knelt over her thighs. She put her chin on her arms and sighed as he pulled her ass cheeks apart and pushed his cock down into her cunt. Her clamped legs made her feel tighter than ever and he groaned in pleasure as he bottomed out. Keeping himself up on his hands, his back arched so that she was pinned beneath him, he began to piston his hips, fucking his teacher. "Oh, Mark;” she murmured. "It's so good this way. Your cock feels so wonderful inside me." "Uh, God;” he breathed, shuddering as she squeezed her cheeks together, clamping her cunt around him as he thrust. "I never wanna stop fucking you." "I don't want you to," she gasped as he hit her sweet spot. "And because you; oh; have your time machine; we can find a way; to fuck forever;” She squirmed and writhed beneath him while he pushed up and down on her, both of them getting slick with sweat. They groaned and panted together. He leaned down and bit her shoulder Becky keened in pleasure. Trembling, she arched her hips, pushing up against him. She could feel his cock twitching and swelling inside her. "Gonna cum;” he breathed, pushing down and straining. "Uh! Yes, cum in me, Mark!" she wailed. She pressed her face into a pillow as she screamed, feeling her student's cum spurting inside and filling her spasming cunt. Mark shook and groaned loudly, so glad they were in her house and could be as loud as they needed to be. Her slammed his hips down onto her, tingling pleasure blossoming through him. Mark collapsed on top of her, both of them limp and breathing heavily. He reached under Becky and put his hands on her tits, squeezing gently. She hummed and undulated her soft cheeks beneath him, milking his cock for all of his cum, her wet cunt wanting every last drop. They said nothing for several minutes, just lying there in bliss. Becky finally slowly turned over, Mark's cock slipping out of her and they wrapped their arms around each other, kissing deeply. He pushed his still-hard cock back in and moved back and forth gently inside her and she squeezed him in rhythm. Tongues tangled and they hummed contentedly into one another's mouths. "God, I want to find a way to have multiples of you fucking me all at once," she purred, smiling into his eyes and caressing his cheek. "One in my cunt, one in my ass, another in my mouth; hmm, that sounds heavenly." "Yeah, but won't I, like, blow up spontaneously, or collapse the universe if I encounter myself?" he asked somewhat warily. He liked the idea of fucking all Becky's holes, but not if it made everything go boom. She giggled and bopped his nose. "Silly. Why are you asking me? You're the one with access to this time-travel police force. What did you say they were called? TEA?" "Yeah, they said they're called the Temporal Enforcement Agency." Mark confirmed. "I called them Teabaggers and they didn't think that was funny." "Oh, be nice to them, darling," she chided gently. "After all, they're protecting the timeline for crazy kids like you." "Yeah, I guess," he admitted, knowing she was infinitely more sensible than him about these things. She was already so much smarter at this temporal stuff than he was. The only reason his little trip to 1800's London went well was because she'd prepped him and made him think it through. "Getting myself killed is apparently pretty easy." "Boo, and then we couldn't fuck anymore," she said, sounding sad. "And even if you stopped time-travelling tomorrow, I'd still want to fuck you. You've unleashed a demon in me." "I know it," he laughed. "I have to rest a few days after our marathon fuck sessions, only to come back in your next day to keep up with your libido. Not that I'm complaining, mind." She giggled. "Well I do love to fuck," she agreed. "Maybe one day, I'll go with you. I'd love to fuck in a harem bath house or a Parisian brothel." Mark rolled off her and lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He could almost see the steam rising off them. As tricky as time travel was, he never would have ended up in bed with his Physics teacher if it hadn't been for his time machine. "That chronometer the agents gave me comes in really handy," he said, his thoughts drifting. "It actually gives me little warnings if I'm getting too close to another temporal event. It means I can't do some things I'd like to do, but things get complicated." She smiled. "You said they called it 'the Limelight Effect' or getting clock hammered, depending on what you were trying to do." He nodded. "They didn't like it when I called it 'clock-blocking'." "You said they had no sense of humor." Becky mused. "But maybe practicing with your Holmes Field Device in minor ways will help." He turned and looked at her. "How so?" "Well," she began, turning on her side to look at him, her hand propping up her head. Her nipples gently kissed the skin of his arm. "How about you take me out for dinner? We'll pick a low-traffic area, somewhere time travelers don't go. You said that your chronometer dials are difficult to physically turn and the Holmes Field device always skews numbers if you're trying to get anywhere that would prove troublesome." He considered what she was saying. "So, take you to some remote village in the past where no one else is ever interested in going. We can try finessing my control of the device." She nodded. "Precisely. I don't know about you, but I speak flawless French, we could visit a little village in France's past and we could get some dinner. You could learn how to deal with the locals, get a feel for what you'll have to do if you keep travelling the time stream." "It's weird how you can say words like 'time stream' so naturally, like it's normal," he sighed. "Still, you're right, careful practice is probably a good thing." "It'll be fun," she said, reaching over and taking hold of his hip to turn him into her. Her tits were now squashed to his chest, his soft cock against her gooey cunt. "How bad a teacher can I be for this? You made it through my physics class without tearing a hole in reality." "And yet I failed," he sighed. "I doubt I can fuck my way out of every bit of trouble I get myself into." She giggled and took his hand, pulling him off the bed and leading him to the bathroom. She sat down on the toilet to pee while she stroked his cock gently, She shivered as she peed, feeling his cum trickling of her, pulling him closer and taking him in her mouth. She hummed as she bobbed back and forth, enjoying their mingled taste. Mark had to admit that he was enjoying how relaxed she was around him now that they were lovers. "So," she said finally, pulling his cock out of her mouth with a quiet pop. "We'll shower and get cleaned up. Then we'll head to the public library to figure out where and what we're doing. Anybody asks, I'll say I'm helping you with your schoolwork." He smiled slyly, feeling a familiar tingle in his cock at the thought of showering with her. This was going to be a good night. "So here's a question," she remarked as she watched Mark get dressed in the outfit they'd bought for the occasion, hidden from prying eyes in her basement, where he kept the Holmes Field Device. They'd visited a costume shop and found clothing that was a good fit for the period they were visiting, that being France in the 1600's. "Did they ever tell you about any contacts you can make in the time stream? You know, like dealers?" He looked at her quizzically. "Dealers?" "Sure," she said, nodding. "There must be time-travelers who make their living by providing goods and services to other travelers. I mean, you need to be able to get money and supplies somewhere, so that you don't stick out like a sore thumb, right?" "Yeah, that'd make sense," he admitted. "I mean, I got lucky when I tried going to London and got that dress, I managed to pawn off some knick-knacks I'd brought with me, because I didn't know how else to pay for anything. And they thought I was just some ignorant American. I got out a lot quicker than I thought I would." "I think we should find out," she reasoned. "If you're going to do this, you should really learn how to find what you need." "Exactly how much time-travelling do you think I'm gonna be doing?" he asked, giving her a wry look before continuing to put on his new outfit. "Well, we know you have no future as a physicist, maybe you'll find something you're good at in the time stream," she giggled, making him sigh. She moved forward to help him get into his clothes, since he clearly had no idea what he was doing. "And even if you don't know how to find a dealer, I'm willing to bet that they'll know how to find a traveler." He couldn't argue with that logic and stood still while she corrected his attire, kissing his nose as she finished. He then watched as she got into her own period garb, doing so much more efficiently than he had done. She saw him looking at her and winked. "In spite of my physics major, I also did a lot of work in theater," she quipped, holding her top loosely in place over her opulent tits. "I've been in Les Mis a few times, so I know my way around period garb." "I feel bad about you bringing that jewelry to trade for money," he said, wishing he had more to offer. He didn't just yet, however. "Oh, they're nothing, it's just old gold I never wear," she said dismissively. "I'd probably just end up selling them in a pawn shop at some point. This way, at least it's getting some use. I sell these things I never wear, we get the proper currency, then we go and have some fun. I don't see how this can be a bad thing." "I guess I just feel like it should be me paying." Mark murmured, trying not to blush. "Silly," she giggled again. "You're an eighteen year-old boy. What one earth could you possibly have accumulated that the time stream would be interested in?" "Well, you got me there," he sighed, giving up and letting her continue. "Maybe I'll make it big in the time stream and then I can keep you buying you the presents you deserve." "Ooh, you honey-dripper," she cooed, smiling and kissing his nose before stepping back and examining him. "Well, you're starting to look the part. I'll use some gel in your hair to tousle it a little and then I think we're probably as close as we can get, since neither of us has syphilis or tuberculosis." He waited while she fixed his hair and then took care of her own, pulling her golden locks back in a bow. She was wearing a peasant dress, one that accentuated her small waist and large bust. His outfit, was more akin to a gentleman of northern Europe, with a blue vest and white breeches that he found rather tight, especially around the crotch. "So, milord," she lilted, threading her arm through his and smiling at him. "Shall we sally forth?" He nodded and walked over toward the time machine, his chronometer in hand. 17th Century, France. "Combien allez-vous me donner pour ce pendentif?" Becky asked the owner of the dingy little shop they were standing in. Candles flickered on the walls, dimly illuminating the musty room. The shop-owner, a wizened little man wearing crooked spectacles, looked up her with rheumy eyes. He held out a gnarled hand and she gently put the dull gold bangle into it. Her brought it close to his face, examining it intently. He weighed it in his palm and then scratched the inner surface, testing its contents. He licked his lip as he considered her offering. Finally he put it down. "Onze Louis," he declared, nodding. "Onze Louis, quatre livres, douze sous et vingt-et-trois deniers." Mark looked at Becky, who was considering what he had told them. After a few seconds, she seemed to think he was being reasonable. "Bien. Tout en livres et sous, s'il vous plait." The man counted out one hundred and sixty-six sous and pushed them across the counter. His eyes widened slightly as she pushed a gold necklace and two rings to him for appraisal. Half an hour later, they exited the shop with a small purse containing the equivalent of nearly fifty Louis, a small fortune by the standards of the period and their locale. "Here you go, milord," she said sweetly, pressing the purse into his palm. "It's only appropriate that you carry our funds, since you're the one cosplaying as the aristocracy." "Except my French sucks balls." Mark muttered as they walked down the dirt road. It was mid-morning and they'd arrived in a fallow field outside the town. Google maps indicated that it was empty in the modern day and online archive maps from France in 1652 indicated that it was much the same way back then. With careful calculations of time and distance, they'd arrived without incident. "Well, you speak Spanish, so we'll pretend you're from Madrid or something," she said simply, holding his arm again. "And I'll be the lusty French tart from Rouen who travels with you, keeping you enamored with our fair country." "You'd be stupidly good at Larp, you're really getting into this," he sighed. Larp?” Live action role playing. Any other hidden talents I should know about?" Mark inquired. "If I told you then they wouldn't be surprises," she pointed out. "We women love to be mysterious." "Well, at least you're a woman, most of the girls I know who do that stuff are just crazy." "That's because they're teenage girls, who are, by definition, 'bugfuck insane'." Becky added. "A lot of women are too, I suppose, but at least there's a chance our hormones have straightened out. Probably not much different here, except for the mortality rate." They walked down the cobblestone rode, attracting the occasional stare as they walked into the town. They stopped a stout, middle-aged man and asked where they might get some decent food and accommodations. "You are dressed rather unusually to be walking," he said, looking at Mark. "You seem to be a gentleman of quality, sir. I am the town's physician and apothecary, my name is Henri. And yours, monsieur?" Mark stuttered. "Mark, uh; mon nom; es;” "Marco," Becky interjected suddenly, relieving him of the burden of struggling to make his name known in French. "He is Senor Marco Del Strade, and he is a baron from Valencia." "I thought I was from Madrid." Mark whispered out of the side of his mouth. "Shut the fuck up, I'm thinking on the fly here!" she hissed back. "What did the Spaniard say?" asked the portly physician. "That didn't sound Spanish." "A curse of our association," she said sweetly, beaming a radiant smile at him. "The baron speaks no French, and I no Spanish, so we communicate en Anglais, with which we both have some facility." "A rather unusual arrangement," grunted the man. "Nonetheless, it would not do for our humble town to allow a gentleman of quality to not be looked after. I would recommend L'Auberge Des Loups." "The Wolves' Inn?" Mark muttered out loud, knowing enough French to get that translation. "That doesn't sound too safe." "Be at ease, my friends," Henri said, chuckling. "The wolf is on our town coat of arms, and the Inn is our most reputable establishment. If you have the money, they will give you what you need." He turned and pointed down the road. "There, you can see the inn from this spot. The two-story building with the gambrel roof and all the smoke coming out of the chimney. See it?" "Yes, good sir, and we thank you." Becky said, curtseying before smiling at the man and putting his rather fat, gout-ridden hand in hers. "For all of your help." "Ah, well, yes," he said, blushing and withdrawing his hand from hers. "When you go to the inn, tell the proprietor that Henri sent you. This will make things easier for you." And with that, the man waddled off. "He seemed nice, I guess," Mark mused as they resumed their trek into the town. "I mean, I missed a lot of what you two said, but it seemed to agree with you." "We just need to mention his name when we get to the inn and that'll apparently make our lives easier." Becky replied, thinking how quaint everything was. She couldn't believe she was actually in seventeenth century France! But then, she was fucking her former student who was a time-traveler, so clearly anything was possible. She had already promised herself she would enjoy every moment of this experience. She'd chosen the year as carefully as possible, noting that there were no major Plague outbreaks mentioned and she had insisted they bring very discretely concealed medications with them. Ignoring the stares of the townsfolk, they continued down the main street until they reached the inn. They tacitly avoided stepping in the various effluences that trickled between the cobblestones and stepped over the unconscious peasants who were sprawled in the middle of the street before opening the faded green doors and entering. Dark and musty, lit by wall sconces and an ancient wrought-iron chandelier overhead in which guttered many candles, the large common room was like something out of an HBO special, minus the lighting budget. Large, round table dominated the space, while a great hearth and a long counter encompassed most of the back wall. Lots of sun-browned peasant faces turned to look at them while some stringed instrument plunked away from a corner. The place smelled of smoke and what was probably body odor. Still ignoring the stares, Becky led Mark up to the counter, behind which stood a surly-looking man with a black moustache and beard. He observed them with interest as they approached. Mark stood silently while Becky addressed the man in French. "My lord the Baron is looking for clean and welcoming accommodations for the night," she began, indicating Mark. "Henri sent us to you, saying that you were the establishment in this town worthy of his business." "If you can pay, then yes, we will be able to room you comfortably," he answered, looking at Mark. "Our best room is one livre per night. I assume the baron can afford this?" She looked at Mark now. "A single night is one livre. Those'd be the silver coins. Get one out and just give it to him, without showing how much you actually have." Mark nodded and fished out one of the coins indicated, putting it on the counter for the proprietor to inspect. Satisfied, the man nodded. "This will cover the room. If his lordship has need of a bath or food, we can provide these things as well." "Fresh food?" she asked pointedly. "Only the freshest for the lord," laughed the man loudly, causing people nearby to chuckle. "Is he a mute?" "No, he is Spanish and speaks no French," she said flatly, fixing the man with a hard look. "You can speak to me, his servant, if you feel the need to communicate. You can bring him food now, and your finest wine, good sir." She then turned and took Mark's arm, leading him over to an empty table in the corner, once again ignoring the gazes that followed them. She sat down and sighed, nodding. "We'll eat and then see about the room and a bath," she declared, looking around and taking everything in. "If it's big enough, I'm sure we can get into all sorts of trouble in the tub." "I'd like that," he said, finally relaxing. "I'm glad you're taking to this so easily, because I'm way out of my element. London in the 1880's was hard enough, and all I was doing was pretending I was an American traveler. France in the time of the Louis the Sun King, that's a little out of my league." "Don't worry, once you hit your stride, you'll do fine," she said gently, patting his hand. "I've just had more weird experiences over the course of my life than you have and am adapting a little quicker is all." A jug of wine, two goblets, some hearty bread with butter and some onions and cheese was brought over by a wench who looked like John Rhys-Davies in drag. She belched and tottered off, having delivered her goods. "Although I'm not so sure about adapting to that." Becky said, shaking her head to clear it of the image. She unstopped the jug and poured the dark red wine into their goblets while Mark portioned out the bread, butter, cheese and onions. They both dug in, finally realizing how hungry they were. "Oh, wow, that's good," Becky remarked, looking into her goblet, having tried the wine. "Just remember to eat a lot of bread and butter, Mark, or you'll have the hangover from hell." He'd never had a wine quite like this before and they quickly polished off the jug before ordering another. They finished their bread and cheeses before being presented with a roasted suckling pig and two pheasants, stuffed with local herbs. They enjoyed eating, but the wine was strong enough to eventually get through all the food they'd lined their stomachs with. Becky was giggling and tipsy within the hour. "I can't beli; believe we're here in France," she said, her head tilted to one side. "An' we're gonna fuck; in the tub; an' then in our room, because; because; defiling the timeline; sounds like fun. It's fun, you know, to fuck across history;” "It is," Mark agreed, not as drunk as Becky but still feeling rather buzzed. His tongue felt thick from the wine, which she had explained was not treated with any modern pasteurization process and therefore would be full of tannins and sediments they would need to account for or suffer an assured hangover. "And you're the person I'd want to do it with, Becks;” Becky giggled and slid her hand along his leg, finally arriving at his crotch and giving the bulged contained in the tight breeches a squeeze. "You're not; not a time cop; you're a time cock; timeless cock;” Some musicians had come in a few minutes earlier and were sitting in another corner of the common room. They struck up a lively tune on their lutes, fiddles and a small drum. Becky's eyes lit up as the music reached them. "Oh, I love this song!" she said loudly in English before hopping up from the table and dancing her way with abandon into the middle of the room. People watched on and began to clap and cheer as she stood on a table and began capering. "How the hell does she know this song?" Mark wondered, frowning as he watched his Physics teacher begin to dance and sing. Ah! Si mon moine voulait danser! Ah! Si mon moine voulait danser! Un capuchon je lui donnerais Un capuchon je lui donnerais Danse, mon moine, danse! Tu n'entends pas la danse Tu n'entends pas mon moulin, lon la Tu n'entends pas mon moulin marcher. Mark watched in wonder as she tottered back over and flopped onto the bench next to him, breathing heavily and perspiring. She grinned at him lopsidedly and winked, still obviously rather inebriated. "Why did you know the lyrics to that song?" he asked, utterly baffled. She poured herself more wine and drained her goblet in one gulp, with a very loud Gluck! noise. Clearly, she was intent on partying. "Went to; a Catholic school; run by nunsh;” she slurred, trying to fill her cup again. "Lotsh of shingin' to; keep our little teen girl mindsh; off sheksh; Fuckin' love that shong, used to shing that shong; all the' time; fuckin'; great to dansh to;” "Yes, I noticed," he said, nodding and smiling. "You were almost flashing your tits and your cunt at the; the patrons;” "They can peek; but no touchy;” she said, taking another drink. "Thish pushy; only for you; I think; we'll shee;” She turned and looked at him, her eyes glazed and her skin flush from her exertions. "We're here; together, Mark, but; if you; ya' shee a girl ya' wanna fuck; I'm okay with; with that. "Jus' don' get the crabs!" She had broken into a snickering fit, pressing her forehead against the table as she tried to not fall over completely. Mark was chuckling and feeling really good watching how silly his teacher was being. She looked up suddenly, trying to wear a serious expression. "But one thing," she cautioned, holding up a finger and wagging it at one of the Marks she was looking at. There were three of them, so she chose the one in the middle. "No, moren one thing, but th' one thing'sh; important;” She leaned forward to whisper to him. "Keep your dicky in your pantsh unlesh; unlesh you know she'sh eighteen; 'cush the lawsh right now; 'she prolly legal to fuck 'em younger; but; you're from our time; our time;” She glowered at him drunkenly. "An' we don' fuck 'em if they're not eighteen; ya' got it?" He nodded. "Eighteen or older. Got it. And you can; miss, you can' "Not mish," she interrupted, waving away his comment. "Becky. Not fuckin' mish, remember?" "Sorry," he intoned, letting out a belch and patting his chest. The wine and cheese tasted great but were really fucking with him. "I'll be better; remember;” "Well, what wash it I can do?" she asked. "You were gonna; shay; I could do; what wash it?" Mark thought about that for a moment, unable to push through the wine-induced haze in his head. "I don' remember;” They both broke into laughter, much to the amusement of nearby patrons. Becky had her head on the table again, giggling until Mark slammed his palm on it in an expression of entertainment, shocking her and making her yelp. They looked at one another and burst into more fits of laughter. They'd drained another jug and polished off the pig and pheasants. Mark felt incredibly full, and drunk. Becky could barely stand up and she asked Mark to take her arm and lead them over to the proprietor behind the long counter once again. She shook her head a few times to clear it and he waited patiently for her to speak. "Shir, we'll be needing the bath now, and our room," she said slowly, making sure she could be understood. "Would you be so kind ash to show ush the way?" He tilted his head slightly. "Comment?" "You just spoke to him in English, Becks." Mark told her. Her glassy eyes widened and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to die of embarrassment. "For fuck's sakes;” she muttered. She took a deep breath and repeated herself in labored French. He nodded and led them up the back, away from the common room. It took Becky fifteen minutes to get up the single flight of stairs because it wouldn't stop spinning. Mark sighed as he sat in the large, round wooden tub, his arms resting on the side while his hands gripped the rim. The steaming water splashed over the side as he shuddered and groaned loudly, cumming. Spent, he sank back onto the small ledge and breathed heavily. The water stirred and Becky surfaced, exhaling. Her golden hair clung to her wetly and her glorious tits glistened. She grinned at her student. "See?" she declared, obviously pleased as she pulled her hair over her shoulders. "Told you I could make you cum before having to surface for air." "Jesus, you must've been down there over two minutes," he breathed, never ceasing to be stunned by her carnal skills. "How the hell do you hold your breath that long?" Becky cricked her neck and settled onto Mark's lap, her arms around his neck. She gave him a peck on the nose. "Lots of cardio and physical training." "Obviously." Mark agreed. "Not that I'm complaining, mind." "Hmm, didn't think you would," she purred. "But only half of this equation has been solved, big boy. I haven't cum yet. Since you're friend down there is taking a nap, how good are you at holding your breath?" "Not that good," he chuckled. "I'm happy to lick your cunt, but you'll need to keep it above water." She smiled and rolled her eyes before getting off his lap. He moved aside and allowed her to kneel on the little ledge he'd been sitting on, leaning over the rim of the tub and resting her forearms on it. She looked back at him and winked while wiggling her sexy, toned behind him. Her cuntlips were dripping and looked inviting. Mark knelt in the middle of the tub, behind Becky's ass and took hold of it, kissing the wet cheeks. Becky cooed and squirmed under the attention, one of her hands cupping a tit and squeezing it. She could feel Mark's lips and tongue moving slowly inward toward her core. She bit her lip and sighed. He touched her cunt, kissing it gently and sliding his tongue up and down the twat, which parted easily before him. Her heard her moan and tasted her tang as he pushed inside her while using his thumbs to pull her inner thighs apart so he could get further into his teacher's snatch. She shivered and pushed back against him, eager for more. "Hmm, Mark;” she cooed, her eyes shut as she felt his tongue inside her. "Yes, right there, lover. Oh, you really know how to use your tongue;” He smiled at her compliment and pulled his tongue out to massage her clit with it, rolling around the little bud and making her gasp sharply. He slid a finger inside her, followed by another and she groaned. He could feel her cunt tightening around his digits and began to push them back and forth slowly while he nibbled and sucked her clit. Becky shuddered again and leaned down, biting at her knuckle while squeezing her tit harder, massaging it vigorously. Mark lashed her clit while fingering her tight twat and then slid a single finger into her ass. Her breath caught in her throat and she gripped the ledge of the tub, her fingers raking along the iron-bound wood. "Fuck, Mark," she whimpered. "Yes, make me cum. I want to cum in your mouth!" Mark worked her cunt harder, sliding the fingers back and forth, pushing in deeper each time. His tongue massaged her clit relentlessly or he sucked on it. She was squirming and writhing back against him, groaning unashamedly. He was beyond caring if anyone heard them at this point. Becky was panting heavily now, her eyes glazing over as she ground her ass against Mark's face, feeling his fingers in her cunt and her ass, wiggling and pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. She would miss his cum inside her, but she would surely get it before long, Mark was developing good stamina under her guidance. She arched her back and moaned loudly as she began to cum, pleasure blossoming through her from her cunt and out to her fingers and toes. Her body shook while she climaxed, the wet, gooey ecstasy of colors in her mind letting her; Invasion. There was a smash, like wood splintering, the creak of worn metal. Her eyes snapped open in confusion, the unreal delight of her orgasm draining away as men in masks and dark clothes surged into the room, at least five of them and more shadows in the hallway. Most were holding knives or small clubs, but she saw the one in front carrying a heavy flintlock pistol. Even in the darkness of the room, lit only by candles around the wall, she could see the wicked scar on his cheek. "Arrêtez! Reste tranquille et je ne te tuerai pas!" he rasped, pointing his pistol at her while his comrades moved into the room and began searching for something. "Qui es-tu?" Becky demanded, getting angry not only about the intruders, but the fact that her orgasm was slipping away. She could feel Mark still kneeling behind her, looking on in shock at what was happening. "Tais-toi, salope!" the man barked, moving toward her and drawing a wicked knife from his belt, his men now ransacking the room. He placed the point of the knife at her throat and Mark felt a cold fear run up his spine. "Do not speak to me in that tone if you' He never finished the sentence as Becky grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife and twisted, hard. The man with the scar yelped as he lost his grip on the knife and the blonde woman leapt out of the tub, her knee smashing into his face. He staggered backward and then went flying as her foot slammed into his ribcage. He crashed through a table and this got the attention of the thugs he'd brought with him. They all looked in shock at the naked blonde tigress for a moment and then surged in on her, knives and cudgels ready. "A little help here, hero!" Becky shrilled as she scampered away from the incoming bandits. "This isn't sex, don't make me do all the work!" "Hey now!" Mark protested, half-rising out of the relative protection of the tub because of her taunt. "It's not like you do all' "Goddammit, Mark!" Becky shouted as she ducked the swing of a club and punched her attacker in the balls. "You'd better hope they kill us, because if I survive, I'm going to crack open your skull and suck your brain out with a straw! Help me!" Mark came to his senses and vaulted over the side of the tub, trying not to think about the fact that he was buck naked and rushing toward his teacher and her assailants. He crashed into the smallest man, bearing him to the ground and winding him. Not sure what else to do, he began punching the bandit, knocking his cloth mask askew so he could not see. The man struggled wildly to get out from underneath his naked foe. "Huh!" Mark choked out as another thug grabbed him by the throat from behind and started pulling him off the man he was on top of. He could feel his tongue beginning to bulge out of his mouth and was thinking he must look incredibly foolish, like Jabba the Hutt when Princess Leia strangled him with the chain. He couldn't die like that. He couldn't. With a limp dick and a swollen tongue? In front of Becky? He'd taken some karate, although he was no expert. His skin was still wet and he went limp, using sudden deadweight to break his attacker's hold on his throat, although he hissed in pain when he felt the man's ragged nails crease through his skin as he lost his grip. With a thud! Mark hit the floor and did the only thing he could think of doing; he grappled onto the man and took him down in a rough tumble. He desperately rolled until he was on top and rammed his knee into the man's stomach. He heard the man wheeze but then sparks exploded behind his eyes as something cracked across the back of his head. He didn't fall over but scrambled away in a panic, wishing he could see in the darkness or that the room would stop spinning. Becky landed in a heap on top of him, knocking him back to the floor. She was still naked and incredibly angry from the sounds of her. "That's it, buster!" she roared as she surged back to her feet and charged her attacker. Mark dazedly looked over and watched as his teacher sprinted across the room, her foe giving chase. She leapt in the air and to the wall, her foot making contact. Before anyone was ready, she sprang backward, smashing her foot across the man's jaw in a roundhouse kick that they must have heard on the edge of town. The man went down like a sack of flour. "Alright, who's next?" she shouted, standing in the middle of the room, naked and scratched up. She grabbed a pewter jug and slammed it backward into the head of a man coming up behind her. He went down. "I didn't know you did parkour!" Mark called out as he tackled another thug from behind, taking him to the floor. "I do a lot of things to take out my sexual frustrations!" she snapped back, picking up a bench and throwing it at two assailants to keep them off-balance. "Parkour, jiu-jutsu, archery, Krav-Maga. I was kind of hoping that fucking would allow me to vent a little steam!" "I can see why!" Mark said as he smashed the man's face into the floor repeatedly. Even in his weirdest dreams, he'd never imagined fighting French bandits while buck naked. He wondered if the Temporal Enforcement Agency would be up his ass about this incident. "Oh, shut up!" she shrilled, kicking a man between the legs from behind and then suplexing him after he doubled over in pain. The floor splintered with the impact, but Becky rolled to her feet and grabbed his cudgel. "You still owe me an orgasm, mister!" "Okay, okay!" Mark said hastily. A sallow man confronted him, wearing an eye-mask, who brandished a knobbed club. The bandit grinned at him, clearly intent on bashing his head in. Thinking quickly, Mark stood and looked somber, clasping his fist in his hand and bowing, like they did in his mom's tai chi class. The bandit looked confused for a moment before Mark bowed again and then made a motion urging the bandit to do the same. Still not sure what was happening but wanting to get on with things, the bandit bowed at the waist clumsily. Mark broke a chair over his head before grabbing the cudgel and rushing to Becky's side. "So very nice of you to join me," Becky panted as they faced off against the three remaining intruders, who were trying to surround them. Mark and Becky backed up toward the outer wall, the window behind them. The men closed in. There was a groan and a clatter as the man with the scar on his cheek slowly got to his feet from the pile of broken furniture he'd been laying in and approached them, his henchmen parting to make way for him. "Pour votre arrogance, je vous verrai mort." he growled, pointing his pistol at Mark. Trapped, Mark squeezed his eyes shut; click! Mark blinked and opened his eyes. The scar-faced man was scowling at his pistol, which was letting off a small tuft of smoke but had failed to go off. Was the powder wet? With a roar of fury, Becky was on him. "Get the other three!" she yelled as she rearranged his face. "I've got this one!" Too bewildered to be afraid and exhilarated to be alive, Mark charged the remaining three thugs, who were all backing away in confusion. None of this had gone according to plan, the majority of their fellow bandits were strewn around the room, beaten unconscious by a naked man and a crazy blonde hellion with big tits and a shaved cunt. "C'est des conneries!" she raged as she beat the man around the room, showing no mercy. "I came to the Sun King's France to drink wine, have a good time and get laid! And you fuckers just had to try and rob me, didn't you? All sorts of peasants to pick on, but no! You thought you'd get lucky with two strangers! Well va te faire enculer, pal!" Mark lost track of the whirlwind of violence his teacher had become while he ducked the swipe of a knife and then kicked the leg out from under a thug, dislocating his knee and dropping him. He whirled around and got lucky with the cudgel, cracking it across the jaw of another man, who spun like a top and fell to the ground. He was beginning to notice that he was taller than just about all these men, often by a significant margin. Some were barely taller than Becky. Had nutrition really been that bad in this era? The last one got desperate and lunged at him, but Mark twisted and used his foe's momentum to send him sailing past and smashing into the window. The unconscious man slumped halfway through the shutter and the sounds of commotion in the street below reached him. He shouldn't have been surprised that they were causing a stir. He looked around the room to see if any other foes were standing, but saw only sprawled bodies everywhere, some stirring slightly. The only other sound was that of a face being punched. He looked over to see Becky squatting on the scarred man's chest, grappling into his collar and socking him repeatedly in the mouth while swearing in French. "Nique ta mere!" thump! "Oh, you really pissed me off!" she growled as she huiled the man up by the shirt and dragged him stumbling over to the tub, where she pushed his head under the water. He thrashed about in a panic before she let him back up, gasping for air. "You like that?" she shouted, thumping his head off the side of the tub several times for emphasis. "Ya' think it's funny to barge into a girl's room when she's about to get her rocks off? Is that it?" She shoved his head back underwater again, waiting until he was thrashing around in terror again before pulling him back out and dragging him over to the bed. She threw him against it so that he was kneeling, supported by the straw-stuffed mattress as he swooned. "Hold him down, Mark;” she growled. Unsure of what to do aside from comply, Mark got on the bed and pinned the man's arms against the mattress, putting all his weight on them to keep him in place. He watched in growing confusion as Becky knelt behind the man and yanked his breeches down, exposing his pock-marked behind. She found his flintlock pistol and glared at it for a moment before fiddling with the mechanism, cocking it. The man's eye flared wide and he howled in pain and horror as she pushed the barrel inside his ass. "Alright, buttercup," she said with a sweetness that oozed cruelty. "You're going to explain who told you to come and rob us. And if you don't, I pull the trigger and put your brains on the ceiling." Mark warily shuffled aside on the bed, away from the top of the man's skull. "Do you understand me?" Becky asked quietly, giving the pistol a jiggle. "Probably not," Mark said, trying to sound conciliatory. "You're speaking English again." Becky realized he was right and swore under her breath. Rather than say it all again in French, she decided to just get to the point. She pressed the pistol in an inch further, ignoring the resistance she encountered. "Dites-mois qui vous a envoye," she growled. "Tell me or I blow an asshole in the top of your head." "Henri!" the scar-faced man gasped and whimpered. "He told us you would be here and you have much money!" "Oh, did he now?" Becky growled, forgetting to speak French as she glared at the bandit. "I am going to eat that man's children;” She roughly grabbed the man and spun him around to face her, without removing the pistol muzzle from his ass. His face was pale with fright and artfully rearranged by her fist. He was still leaning back against the bed, not daring to move, breathing heavily. "Maintenant," Becky began, still glowering at him. "You're going to tell me where to' She paused as she looked down at the man's crotch and saw that he was sporting a throbbing erection. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she shouted angrily, yanking the pistol out of his ass and then slamming the grip across his head with a loud crack! The bandit's eyes rolled into his head and he slumped to the ground, very unconscious. "Huh," Mark said as he glanced down at the prone villain. "I guess guys really can get erections from that sort of thing. I thought it was bullshit." "It ought to be, under these circumstances," Becky groused, folding her arms and looking pissed off. "You don't spring wood when a girl's got a gun shoved up your ass, especially after you try to rob her! I don't feel the least bit bad about not giving him a reach-around. Fucker;” "Would you really have pulled the trigger and blown his brains out?" he asked somewhat nervously. "Oh, of course, not," she snorted, giving him a wry look. "I'm not a monster." "You sure fight like one." Mark said, using his hand to indicate the carnage around the room. Bad guys were strewn everywhere, and he was pretty sure he couldn't claim most of them. "Well, they had it coming," she sniffed. "They interrupted my orgasm. It's just rude." She then turned and looked at him, her expression much softer. "Thank you, Mark, for all your help. You saved me, I couldn't have done it on my own." "Yeah, well, you wouldn't have been in danger if I hadn't brought you here in that damn time machine." Mark said, a feeling of guilt washing over him. She knelt next to him on the bed and hugged him close, their bodies pressing together. She smiled at him and kissed his nose. "Don't be sad," she cooed. "I haven't had this much adventure in ages." Mark smirked. "If you've got romps in your past that compare to this, I wanna hear about them." "Oh, you'll need to do a lot more fucking to coax those out of me, young man," she whispered, reaching down between them to take gentle hold of his cock and begin stroking. "But maybe I won't make it too difficult for; Mark, it's very rude to stare off into space while a girl is trying to seduce you. Mark?" "I'm not staring off into space, Becks." Mark said, staring past her shoulder. "Oh, really?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking annoyed, still kneeling in front of him. "Then what is so fascinating that even my tits can't distract you?" He indicated a direction behind her with a nod. "Voyeurs." Becky turned her head slowly and looked across the room at the door. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed several dark shapes in the hallway, gazing into the room in astonishment. With a sigh, she got off the bed, grabbed a candle that hadn't been destroyed and walked over to the door, clearly beyond caring that she was still naked. She could see men and women now, backing up uncertainly at her approach. She also spied one particular silhouette, large and with a big beard, lurking near the back and trying to not be seen. "Oh no you don't, pal," she called out, snapping her fingers and then pointing at the man before making a beckoning motion. "Get your sorry ass over here;” Henri, the peasant girls, and hospitality. Mark sighed in pleasure and took another drink from the jug of wine he was holding, trying to not spill any. He pulled his lips away and looked down his body. He was sitting in a large, plush bed, blissfully naked. Between his legs, a local girl with dark brown hair girl was bobbing her mouth up and down on his cock ardently, clearly interested in pleasing him. "This one's the innkeeper's daughter?" he mused, enjoying her mouth. She paused sucking on him for a moment to look up and smile eagerly before returning to her task. "She loves cock for sure." "She's one of his daughters," Becky agreed, propped up beside him, equally naked and holding the head of a girl who was lying between her legs, her face buried in the blonde's cunt, which she was licking hungrily. "This is the other one." "You frightened him so badly that he's letting us fuck his daughters?" Mark laughed. "He's given us his personal quarters, given us all the food and drink we want and we can fuck his daughters?" "What can I say, I'm persuasive." Becky grunted, shivering and grinding herself into the face of the daughter. "He'll let us stay for the week, he doesn't want word getting around that a noble had a fiasco in his inn. He'd probably give us his wife, too, if I demanded it. We're too close to Paris and word would get around and wreck his business." "If trashing that room and leaving bandits everywhere doesn't, nothing would." Mark breathed, holding the girl by the hair. "Seriously, it looks like Metallica stayed in that room now. What'll we do about that Henri asshole?" "I'll think of it later, I'm a little busy." Becky hissed, squirming and knotting her fingers in the peasant girl's hair. "Uh, it's been so long, since a girl ate me." "You had a sexy phase? I didn't know you liked girls." Mark said, smirking at her. "Back in high school, maybe," Becky admitted. "Haven't been with one since then." "But I do have a question," he said, focusing past the daughter's wicked mouth. "In all the hassle and afterward, I never asked the innkeeper how old his daughters were." "So?" Becky gasped, eyes squeezed shut and bucking her hips. "Well, what if they're not eighteen? You said yourself that we have to hold ourselves to the standards of the time we come from, right?" "You're thinking of that now?" she groaned through clenched teeth. "I; fuck; Mark, it's 1640 right now. That means these girls can't be any less than three hundred and ninety-two in our time. Good enough?" "Good enough!" he laughed. Rationalization seemed to be a handy skill when you were time travelling. He looked over and saw Becky pull the girl away from her crotch and rustle over to him. He stayed still while she straddled his lap, facing down his body. With one hand, she took hold of his cock and held it steady while she positioned herself above it. The two sisters, every bit as naked as them, nestled on the bed below his legs, pressing against one another's sides. They grinned at one another and kissed, their tongues tangling as they waited for Becky to continue. With a sigh, his teacher lowered herself onto his cock, the mushroom head splitting her wet lips before sliding inside her. She sunk down with a groan until he was in to the hilt. She then slowly laid herself back against him, allowing Mark fondle her tits while she squirmed and writhed on him. The sisters moved in and began licking at his cock or kissing her cunt lips and clit while the two guests fucked. "Oh, Heaven;” Becky purred as she caressed his cheek, turning her head to kiss him, their tongues slithering around while she undulated slowly on his lap. "This is what time travel's all about;” Mark held her with one hand, fondling her tits and pinching her nipples while his other hand found the wine jug and poised it just over her torso. She hummed in pleasure as he trickled the dark red liquid over her fair skin, letting it cascade down her exquisite form. One of the sisters noticed and knelt up, beginning to lick it off Becky's tits and stomach while the other noisily slurped it from the Mark's cock and Becky's cunt. "God, forget the Sun King's France, we belong in Caligula's Rome," Becky moaned, shivering in delight at how decadent they were being. "We'll need to; hmm; we'll need to find time to attend an orgy, Mark; how's your Latin?" "Not as good as yours, I imagine," he replied, his tongue still swirling around with hers while they fucked. "But I'd be happy to learn it if we can attend a real orgy." He put the jug of wine aside and used both hands to molest her again, squeezing her tits and gripping her skin. Becky writhed and him, pressing down with her hips, shuddering as the two sisters licked her and nipped at her skin. She begged the universe n
Fluent Fiction - French: Rekindling Bonds: A Reunion on Nice's Golden Shore Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-11-07-08-38-20-fr Story Transcript:Fr: Le soleil se couche sur Nice, laissant des rayons dorés colorer les vagues de la Méditerranée.En: The sun sets over Nice, casting golden rays that color the waves of the Mediterranean.Fr: Les palmiers dansent doucement sur le rythme de la brise automnale.En: The palm trees gently dance to the rhythm of the autumn breeze.Fr: Aujourd'hui, la Promenade des Anglais est le théâtre d'une réunion de famille particulière.En: Today, the Promenade des Anglais is the scene of a special family reunion.Fr: Mathieu marche, les mains dans les poches, contemplant l'horizon.En: Mathieu walks with his hands in his pockets, contemplating the horizon.Fr: Cette rencontre est importante pour lui.En: This meeting is important for him.Fr: Mathieu se sent distant depuis quelque temps.En: Mathieu has felt distant for some time.Fr: Les années ont apporté avec elles des malentendus et des disputes.En: The years have brought misunderstandings and disputes.Fr: Mais aujourd'hui, il est décidé à changer cela.En: But today, he is determined to change that.Fr: Sa sœur, Chloé, l'a invité à passer le week-end avec elle et sa fille Élodie.En: His sister, Chloé, has invited him to spend the weekend with her and her daughter Élodie.Fr: C'est un moment parfait.En: It is a perfect moment.Fr: Le 11 novembre, le jour de l'Armistice, leur offre une parenthèse de paix et de réflexion.En: November 11th, l'Armistice Day, offers them a respite for peace and reflection.Fr: En arrivant au point de rendez-vous, Mathieu aperçoit Élodie qui court vers lui.En: Upon arriving at the meeting point, Mathieu sees Élodie running towards him.Fr: Elle a sept ans, des yeux pétillants de joie, et elle crie : "Tonton !"En: She is seven years old, with eyes sparkling with joy, and she shouts, "Tonton!"Fr: Mathieu la serre dans ses bras.En: Mathieu holds her in his arms.Fr: Elle est le lien précieux qui l'unit à sa famille.En: She is the precious link that unites him with his family.Fr: Ensemble, ils commencent leur promenade.En: Together, they begin their walk.Fr: Chloé les rejoint bientôt. Elle sourit, l'air déterminé.En: Chloé joins them soon after, smiling with determination.Fr: "Mathieu, ça fait plaisir de te voir ici," dit-elle doucement.En: "Mathieu, it's good to see you here," she says softly.Fr: Leurs pas mènent vers des souvenirs communs.En: Their steps lead to shared memories.Fr: Ils parlent de vacances passées, des rires partagés sur cette même plage.En: They talk about past vacations, shared laughter on this same beach.Fr: Mais lors du dîner, l'ambiance change.En: But during dinner, the atmosphere changes.Fr: Chloé évoque sans prévenir une vieille dispute.En: Chloé unexpectedly brings up an old argument.Fr: Mathieu tressaille.En: Mathieu flinches.Fr: Le silence s'installe, lourd comme une vague prête à se briser.En: Silence settles, heavy as a wave ready to break.Fr: Élodie, sentant la tension, murmure doucement : "Parlez-vous, s'il vous plaît."En: Élodie, sensing the tension, softly murmurs, "Please talk to each other."Fr: Elle leur tend des dessins, souvenirs de moments heureux.En: She hands them drawings, memories of happy moments.Fr: C'est le déclencheur.En: This is the trigger.Fr: Mathieu pose sa fourchette.En: Mathieu sets down his fork.Fr: "Je veux qu'on se comprenne," dit-il.En: "I want us to understand each other," he says.Fr: Sa voix est tremblante mais ferme.En: His voice is trembling but firm.Fr: Il parle de ses regrets, de son envie de retrouver leur complicité.En: He talks about his regrets, his desire to regain their closeness.Fr: "Pardon, Chloé," ajoute-t-il, sincère.En: "I'm sorry, Chloé," he adds sincerely.Fr: Chloé l'écoute, émue.En: Chloé listens, moved.Fr: "Je suis là pour toi, Mathieu," répond-elle.En: "I'm here for you, Mathieu," she replies.Fr: Un sourire se dessine sur ses lèvres.En: A smile spreads across her face.Fr: Mathieu ressent une chaleur nouvelle.En: Mathieu feels a new warmth.Fr: Les difficultés s'évanouissent peu à peu, comme la marée qui efface les traces dans le sable.En: The difficulties gradually fade away, like the tide erasing traces in the sand.Fr: La nuit tombe, recouvrant Nice d'un manteau étoilé.En: Night falls, covering Nice with a starry cloak.Fr: Élodie tend la main à son oncle et à sa mère.En: Élodie reaches out her hand to her uncle and her mother.Fr: Ensemble, ils continuent à marcher.En: Together, they continue to walk.Fr: La Promenade des Anglais est devenue plus qu'un simple lieu.En: The Promenade des Anglais has become more than just a place.Fr: C'est le témoin de leur réconciliation.En: It is the witness to their reconciliation.Fr: Mathieu comprend enfin l'importance de la famille.En: Mathieu finally understands the importance of family.Fr: La communication honnête est essentielle.En: Honest communication is essential.Fr: Il est chez lui, parmi les siens, et un sentiment de paix l'envahit.En: He feels at home, among his loved ones, and a sense of peace envelops him.Fr: Les vagues continuent d'éclater doucement contre le rivage, mais cette fois, le son réconforte.En: The waves continue to gently crash against the shore, but this time, the sound is comforting.Fr: La famille, pense-t-il, est comme cette mer : parfois agitée, mais toujours belle.En: Family, he thinks, is like this sea: sometimes stormy, but always beautiful. Vocabulary Words:the sunset: le coucher de soleilthe horizon: l'horizonthe dispute: la disputethe reunion: la réunionthe breeze: la brisethe respite: la parenthèsethe misunderstanding: le malentenduthe recollection: le souvenirthe tide: la maréethe cloak: le manteauthe spark: le pétillantthe proximity: la complicitéthe determination: la déterminationthe regret: le regretthe link: le lienthe stage: le théâtrethe armistice: l'armisticethe drawing: le dessinthe peace: la paixthe shore: le rivagethe promise: la promessethe reconciliation: la réconciliationthe wave: la vagueto contemplate: contemplerto flinch: tressaillirto tremble: tremblerto fade: s'évanouirto envelope: envelopperto witness: témoignerto crash: éclater
Fluent Fiction - French: Rekindling Old Friendships on the Promenade des Anglais Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-11-07-23-34-02-fr Story Transcript:Fr: Le soleil d'automne brillait doucement sur la Promenade des Anglais, où les feuilles des arbres dansaient légèrement au gré du vent.En: The autumn sun gently shone on the Promenade des Anglais, where the leaves of the trees danced lightly with the wind.Fr: Le café du coin était déjà animé, une douce mélodie flottait dans l'air, mêlant conversations et tintements de tasses.En: The corner café was already lively, a soft melody floated in the air, mingling conversations and the clinking of cups.Fr: Luc, un graphiste rêveur, s'assit à une table près de la fenêtre, perdant son regard dans les vagues lointaines.En: Luc, a dreamy graphic designer, sat at a table near the window, losing his gaze in the distant waves.Fr: Ce jour-là, c'était le 11 novembre, le Jour de l'Armistice.En: That day was November 11th, Armistice Day.Fr: Les souvenirs de ses années d'étudiant à Nice revenaient à Luc alors qu'il regardait autour de lui.En: Memories of his student years in Nice came back to Luc as he looked around.Fr: Il se souvenait des après-midis insouciants passés avec Camille et Étienne.En: He remembered the carefree afternoons spent with Camille and Étienne.Fr: Ces moments lui manquaient.En: He missed those moments.Fr: Aujourd'hui, il voulait retrouver cette camaraderie et comprendre ce qui importait à ses amis maintenant.En: Today, he wanted to rekindle that camaraderie and understand what mattered to his friends now.Fr: Alors qu'il s'apprêtait à plonger dans ses pensées, la cloche de la porte sonna.En: As he prepared to dive into his thoughts, the doorbell rang.Fr: C'était Camille, suivie d'Étienne, leurs visages illuminés par le même soleil.En: It was Camille, followed by Étienne, their faces illuminated by the same sun.Fr: Luc se leva immédiatement, surpris mais heureux de cette coïncidence.En: Luc stood up immediately, surprised but happy at this coincidence.Fr: Ils échangèrent des sourires sincères et se serrèrent la main.En: They exchanged sincere smiles and shook hands.Fr: Les années pouvaient se voir sur leurs visages, mais pas sur leur enthousiasme.En: The years could be seen on their faces, but not on their enthusiasm.Fr: "Quelle surprise !"En: "What a surprise!"Fr: dit Étienne, assis face à Luc.En: said Étienne, sitting across from Luc.Fr: Camille souriait, apportant un sentiment de nostalgie qui réchauffait l'intérieur du café.En: Camille smiled, bringing a feeling of nostalgia that warmed the inside of the café.Fr: Ils commandèrent du café et des viennoiseries, comme dans leurs souvenirs.En: They ordered coffee and pastries, as they had in their memories.Fr: Lentement, les conversations commencèrent, timides au début.En: Slowly, the conversations began, timid at first.Fr: Luc sentit cette peur persistante qu'ils aient changé, qu'ils aient oublié l'alchimie qui les liait autrefois.En: Luc felt this persistent fear that they had changed, that they had forgotten the chemistry that once bound them.Fr: "Comment allez-vous tous ?"En: "How have you all been?"Fr: demanda Luc, sa voix teintée d'hésitation.En: asked Luc, his voice tinged with hesitation.Fr: "Je pense souvent à ces années," confia Camille.En: "I often think about those years," confided Camille.Fr: "Avec Étienne, nous parlions récemment de vous."En: "With Étienne, we were recently talking about you."Fr: Elle lança un regard à Étienne, qui acquiesça.En: She glanced at Étienne, who nodded.Fr: Luc prit une grande inspiration, prêt à avouer ce qui lui pesait depuis longtemps.En: Luc took a deep breath, ready to confess what had been weighing on him for a long time.Fr: "Je veux revivre ces moments et comprendre ce que vous ressentez maintenant.En: "I want to relive those moments and understand how you feel now.Fr: Nos amitiés comptent pour moi."En: Our friendships matter to me."Fr: Un silence accueillit ses mots, suivi d'un accord collectif.En: A silence greeted his words, followed by a collective agreement.Fr: "Bien sûr," répondit Étienne, touché par la sincérité de Luc.En: "Of course," replied Étienne, touched by Luc's sincerity.Fr: "Nos vies ont changé, mais l'amitié peut toujours rester."En: "Our lives have changed, but friendship can always remain."Fr: Les trois amis continuaient de discuter, exprimant ce qu'ils avaient sur le cœur, et partageant des souvenirs précieux.En: The three friends continued to talk, expressing what was on their hearts, and sharing precious memories.Fr: Le soleil dehors jetait des ombres dansantes sur le sol, accompagnant leur conversation.En: The sun outside cast dancing shadows on the floor, accompanying their conversation.Fr: Ce fut à travers une discussion nostalgique qu'ils comprirent que bien que chacun ait changé, leur lien restait intact.En: It was through a nostalgic discussion that they understood that although each had changed, their bond remained intact.Fr: C'était un soulagement pour Luc.En: It was a relief for Luc.Fr: Il réalisa que les vérités du passé et les réalités du présent pouvaient coexister.En: He realized that the truths of the past and the realities of the present could coexist.Fr: Avant de partir, ils décidèrent de se voir plus régulièrement et de planifier un voyage dans les montagnes, un de leurs rêves anciens.En: Before leaving, they decided to see each other more regularly and to plan a trip to the mountains, one of their old dreams.Fr: Luc se leva, le cœur léger, plein d'espoir et de gratitude.En: Luc stood up, his heart light, full of hope and gratitude.Fr: Ce jour-là, sur la Promenade des Anglais, Luc sentit à nouveau ce sentiment d'appartenance, réalisant que les amitiés véritablement profondes ne se perdaient jamais, elles évoluaient simplement avec le temps.En: That day, on the Promenade des Anglais, Luc once again felt that sense of belonging, realizing that truly deep friendships are never lost; they simply evolve with time. Vocabulary Words:the sun: le soleilthe leaves: les feuillesthe trees: les arbresthe wind: le ventthe wave: la vaguethe armistice: l'armisticethe memories: les souvenirsthe afternoon: l'après-midithe conversation: la conversationthe pastry: la viennoiseriethe chemistry: l'alchimiethe fear: la peurthe friendship: l'amitiéthe silence: le silencethe heart: le cœurthe truth: la véritéthe reality: la réalitéthe bond: le lienthe shadow: l'ombrethe floor: le solthe relief: le soulagementthe sense: le sentimentthe belonging: l'appartenancethe gratitude: la gratitudethe truth: la véritéthe melody: la mélodiethe student: l'étudiantthe camaraderie: la camaraderiethe doorbell: la cloche de la portethe coincidence: la coïncidence
Young, Wild & Freelance | Le podcast pour ta vie d'indépendant
On l'a appris mardi soir, le Maroc décrète que le 31 octobre sera une nouvelle fête nationale. En effet, vendredi 31 octobre dernier, à New York, le Conseil de sécurité de l'ONU a voté une résolution qui prend position pour le plan d'autonomie du Sahara occidental présenté par le Maroc. Pourquoi l'Algérie n'a-t-elle pas pris part au vote ? Quelles sont les options politiques et militaires qui restent pour le Front Polisario ? La politologue Khadija Mohsen-Finan, spécialiste du Maghreb et membre du comité de rédaction de la revue Orient XXI, répond aux questions de Christophe Boisbouvier. RFI : Khadija Mohsen-Finan, qu'est-ce qui change avec le vote de vendredi dernier au Conseil de sécurité ? En réalité, ça change beaucoup de choses, parce que c'est ce qu'attendaient les Marocains, c'est-à-dire la reconnaissance par la communauté internationale de ce que Hassan II appelait leur titre de propriété sur le Sahara. Et au moment où plusieurs États, comme les États-Unis, comme la France, comme la Grande-Bretagne, s'apprêtent à investir dans ce territoire, il fallait absolument dépasser, si vous voulez, le fait qu'on était dans un schéma colonial, puisque ce territoire était à décoloniser. Donc, il fallait sortir de ce schéma de colonisateurs et colonisés. Et c'est ce qui a été fait par le vote de vendredi dernier au Conseil de sécurité des Nations unies. Alors, on savait à l'avance que les Américains, les Anglais et les Français allaient voter pour ce plan d'autonomie proposé par le Maroc, mais on ne savait pas ce qu'allaient faire les Russes et les Chinois. Et c'est peut-être ça la nouveauté, non ? Alors les Russes et les Chinois, disons que le ministre marocain des Affaires étrangères Nasser Bourita s'est rendu à Moscou et les Marocains ont eu l'assurance que les Russes pouvaient tout à fait ne pas leur tenir rigueur de la situation. Et très probablement, la dernière mouture du texte de la résolution a été faite pour que les Russes et les Chinois puissent justement s'abstenir et ne pas voter contre, en y ajoutant le terme de « autodétermination ». Ça, c'est très précieux pour les Russes, c'est très précieux pour les Chinois. Mais j'ajouterai que, depuis quelques années, les Russes entretiennent de très bonnes relations avec le Maroc. On n'est plus du tout dans le schéma de la guerre froide. Et c'est donc la première fois que Moscou et Pékin ne disent pas non à un texte qui « estime qu'une véritable autonomie sous souveraineté marocaine pourrait représenter la solution la plus réalisable » au Sahara occidental ? Absolument. Alors maintenant, on peut s'attendre justement à ce que Russes et Chinois soient attentifs au type d'autonomie qui va être mise en place par le Maroc dans cette région. À lire aussiSahara occidental: le Conseil de sécurité de l'ONU apporte son soutien au plan marocain Pourquoi l'Algérie, qui est membre cette année du Conseil de sécurité, a refusé de prendre part au vote de vendredi ? Alors ça reste quand même très surprenant. Très probablement parce que l'Algérie veut revenir sur la scène régionale et internationale, qu'elle compte beaucoup sur un partenariat économique et stratégique avec Washington, avec les États-Unis et que finalement, elle a peut-être accepté d'être dans ce que certains pourraient appeler la realpolitik. Mais c'est malgré tout une manière de tourner le dos au Front Polisario, à l'autodétermination qu'elle a portée quand même depuis 50 ans. Peut-on parler d'un début de lâchage du Polisario par l'Algérie ? Très probablement parce que, si vous voulez, s'il y a une sortie honorable par ce texte de résolution, personne ne sait ce que vont devenir aujourd'hui les Sahraouis de Tindouf, ce que va devenir la cause sahraouie. Personne n'en parle et je ne pense pas du tout qu'ils vont continuer à être parrainés à être protégés par Alger. Et c'est bien leur inquiétude d'ailleurs. Et dans les dernières déclarations du Front Polisario, on peut entrevoir malgré tout un désespoir. Le ministre des Affaires étrangères du Front Polisario affirme que son mouvement n'acceptera le plan marocain que si la population sahraouie le valide par référendum. Oui, c'est ce qu'il avait dit. Mais si vous voulez, on ne peut pas donner de traduction réelle à ses propos, puisque le Front Polisario seul ne peut pas affronter le Maroc. Et de toutes les manières, il devait attendre l'autorisation d'Alger pour agir sur le plan militaire. Aujourd'hui, vous dites que la balle est dans le camp du Maroc qui doit préciser, qui doit détailler son plan d'autonomie, c'est ça qu'il doit faire ? Peut-être des concessions politiques aussi ? C'est ce que lui impose l'application d'une autonomie réelle. Aujourd'hui, l'autonomie réelle, si on voulait l'appliquer au Maroc, le schéma politique marocain ne le permettrait pas. Il faut qu'il y ait un schéma de décentralisation et de démocratisation de ce pays pour que l'autonomie puisse s'instaurer. Mais ce sont beaucoup de questions. On ne sait pas ce qui va se passer au niveau national marocain et au niveau régional, pour qu'il y ait véritablement une autonomie et que les Sahraouis puissent trouver leur place. À lire aussiLes Marocains fêtent dans les rues la résolution de l'ONU sur le Sahara occidental
Le Bar Pro ce n'est pas seulement cet endroit, objet de fantasme, où les professionnels de la musique montent des deals secrets en buvant des coups. Depuis 2 saisons, c'est une heure de critique musicale sur Tsugi Radio. À une époque où l'on donne son avis en ligne sur tout et n'importe quoi comme on se ressert un café, où les grandes stars internationales peuvent se permettre de sortir des albums quasi sans annonce préalable et parfois sans tenir au courant leurs maisons de disques réduites à parfois au rôle de simples distributeurs. À une époque où les dites maisons de disque considèrent trop souvent la presse spécialisée comme une agence de com, sur Tsugi Radio, nous avons plus que jamais envie de mettre en lumière le travail des journalistes musicaux qui de festivals, en écoutes privées, de salles de concerts, en dancefloor, sont sur tous les fronts pour prendre le pouls de la création musicale contemporaine. Aujourd'hui dans ce nouvel épisode du Bar Pro, un Australien qui joue au vampire, un Français perdu à Copa Cabana, un maître chanteur Italien et un Anglais qui rêve de guitares sur un dancefloor. Autour de moi, 3 journalistes, d'abord Coralie Lacôte du média en ligne La Vague Parallèle. Yann Bertrand, chef du service culture de France Info et Odile de Plas, cheffe du service musique de Télérama.
L'invitée : Josephine Quinn, professeure d'histoire antique à Cambridge.Entretien réalisé en anglais, utiliser les outils de sous-titrage de la version YouTube en cas de besoin. Le livre : Et le monde créa l'occident. Une nouvelle histoire des mondes anciens, Paris, Seuil, 2025. La discussion :· Devenir historienne de l'antiquité, avec Erich Gruen comme directeur de thèse (1:00)· De l'étude des textes à l'archéologie et à l'ADN (7:30)· Un intérêt pour Carthage, et un point sur les sacrifices rituels d'enfants (21:10)· Rome et Carthage en miroir, « comme Oxford et Cambridge » (35:15)· Les anciens divisaient-ils le monde en « civilisations » ? (38:45) Les références mentionnées durant l'émission :· Erich Gruen, The Last Generation of the Roman Republic, Berkeley, 1974.· « Phoenician bones of contention »· Corinne BonnetUn podcast créé, animé et produit par André Loez et distribué par Binge Audio. Contact pub : project@binge.audioHébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
L'heure de la revanche a-t-elle sonnée?La France accueille l'Afrique du sud dans ce qui a tout du choc de l'année: LA meilleure équipe de l'émisphère nord accueille la meilleure équipe de l'émisphère sud, doubles champions du monde en titre.Aujourd'hui on va se parler de tous les facteurs qui peuvent influencer le résultat de ce match: contexte, états de forme des effectifs, possibles surprises tactiques. Et pour ça on vous a préparé un petit jeu!Au programme:00:00 - Intro01:39 - Galthié vs Erasmus: Qui part avec un avantage?31:57 - La question de la semaine: Détestez-vous plus les Anglais ou les Sudafs?
Coucou ! Aujourd'hui, on aborde la lecture en anglais : on vous raconte comment on a commencé, on donne des conseils pour se lancer... On espère comme d'habitude que ça vous plaira (et que ça vous aidera aussi) ! N'hésitez pas à nous dire ce que vous en avez pensé, ici ou sur Instagram (@marquepagesnm) !Bisous et à la semaine prochaine
En pleine guerre de Cent Ans, la France s'est faite envahir par les Anglais. Le roi de France Charles VI, qui en plus est devenu complètement fou, est obligé de se soumettre. Pourtant, le dauphin Charles VII ne voit pas pourquoi il se laisserait piquer sa couronne. Il va donc entrer en résistance depuis le sud de la Loire, dans la partie qui n'est pas encore occupée par les Anglais. Chaque week-end en podcast exclusivement, Lorànt Deutsch revient désormais sur les grands moments qui ont façonné notre monde.Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Téléchargez le guide de la grammaire anglaise en cliquant ici. Connaissez-vous les principales différences entre SAY, TELL, SPEAK et TALK ? Ecoutez cet épisode pour y voir plus clair ! Ben et Alban vous expliquent tout.
English, please is a podcast designed to help improve your English by listening to clear, intermediate English about many different topics like history, culture, art, music, travel, and language.Episode 47: The Origins of "American" EnglishDiscover how American English began and how it grew apart from British English over time. Learn about some of the people, places, and events that helped shape the language spoken in the United States today. As with all episodes, this one is just the right length for practicing your listening skills in one sitting. This means you can improve your English without needing a lot of time.Episode vocabularyAccess vocabulary words using a podcast player that supports chapters, like Apple Podcasts, Player FM, Overcast. Episode transcriptPodcast website Buy me a coffee to support the showSubscribe to the newsletter for episode updates and occasional English-language content to help you practice! Hosted by Ausha. See ausha.co/privacy-policy for more information.
Au XIVe siècle, la Guerre de Cent Ans oppose le royaume de France à celui d'Angleterre dans un conflit interminable. Les batailles s'enchaînent, mais la guerre se joue autant sur le champ de bataille qu'à coups de ruses et de stratagèmes. L'un des plus célèbres est celui de Bertrand du Guesclin, le Breton au visage rude et à la loyauté sans faille, qui parvint à reprendre une forteresse anglaise grâce à une mise en scène digne d'un roman d'aventure.Le contexte : la France humiliéeNous sommes vers 1370, dans une France encore meurtrie par les défaites de Crécy et de Poitiers. Le roi Charles V, dit “le Sage”, a nommé Du Guesclin connétable de France, c'est-à-dire chef de ses armées, avec pour mission de reprendre les villes occupées par les Anglais. Le chevalier breton, plus fin stratège que grand seigneur, préfère les ruses aux batailles frontales.La ruse des bûcheronsUn jour, Du Guesclin apprend qu'un château fort, tenu par une garnison anglaise, protège un point stratégique en Bretagne. Impossible de l'attaquer de front : les murailles sont hautes et les défenses solides. Alors il imagine un plan audacieux.À l'aube, des paysans s'avancent vers la forteresse, traînant des charrettes remplies de bois. Rien de plus banal : les Anglais croient à une livraison ordinaire. Mais ces bûcherons sont en réalité des soldats français déguisés, dissimulant des armes sous les fagots.Au moment où la herse s'ouvre, les “bûcherons” bloquent le mécanisme avec leurs charrettes, empêchant la porte de se refermer. En quelques secondes, Du Guesclin et ses hommes surgissent, envahissent le pont-levis et neutralisent les gardes. La garnison anglaise, prise par surprise, capitule presque sans combattre.Une victoire éclatanteCette ruse permet à Du Guesclin de reprendre la forteresse sans pertes, et surtout, de semer la peur parmi les troupes anglaises. L'épisode devient célèbre dans tout le royaume : il symbolise la ruse, le courage et l'intelligence militaire française face à un ennemi souvent supérieur en nombre.L'héritage d'un stratègeBertrand du Guesclin restera dans l'histoire comme le chevalier rusé plutôt que flamboyant, un homme du peuple devenu héros national. Son sens de la tactique permit de reprendre peu à peu les territoires perdus.La ruse des faux bûcherons, restée légendaire, illustre à merveille cette maxime du connétable : “On ne gagne pas toujours par la force, mais souvent par la tête.” Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
Je suis désolé de vous apprendre que l'histoire est plutôt de leur côté que du nôtre. Adhérez à cette chaîne pour obtenir des avantages : https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCN4TCCaX-gqBNkrUqXdgGRA/join Script et montage William et Hélène de @petites.obsessions Pour soutenir la chaîne, au choix: 1. Cliquez sur le bouton « Adhérer » sous la vidéo. 2. Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/hndl Musique issue du site : epidemicsound.com Images provenant de https://www.storyblocks.com Abonnez-vous à la chaine: https://www.youtube.com/c/LHistoirenousledira Les vidéos sont utilisées à des fins éducatives selon l'article 107 du Copyright Act de 1976 sur le Fair-Use. Sources et pour aller plus loin: @RadioCanadaInfo , Pourquoi conduit-on à droite, Marc-André Boivin https://www.youtube.com/shorts/F9YkoMKU18U Why do the British drive on the left? Interesting Engineering, 2020 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=prNWTqOoeBs Pourquoi les Anglais roulent à gauche et nous à droite, Le Point, André Degon, 24/09/2013 https://www.lepoint.fr/automobile/pourquoi-les-anglais-roulent-a-gauche-et-nous-a-droite-24-09-2013-1734586_646.php#111 Pourquoi les Anglais roulent-ils à gauche? Mourir moins con, Ghislain, épisode Spotify https://open.spotify.com/episode/51fGtFnlCn2bLnsXM4U9j3?si=9c71dac80b5f4a67 99 years ago, British Columbians started driving on the right-hand side of the road Residents drove on the left until 1922, Bronwyn Smyth - City of Vancouver Archives Jan 1, 2021 12:45 PM https://www.vancouverisawesome.com/history/british-columbia-right-side-driving-change-1922-3227966 Vancouver BC drivers switched from driving on the left 97 years ago, BY FELIKS BANEL, Jan 9, 2019, 11:34 https://mynorthwest.com/local/vancouver-bc-drivers-switched-from-driving-on-the-left-97-years-ago/1237554 Chariot https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chariot_b%C3%A2ch%C3%A9 Autres références disponibles sur demande. #histoire #documentaire #driving #conduitegauche #left
Vanessa pour notre city break du dimanche : direction Pau dans le Béarn Qui passe en mode pelote basque fin octobre, du 29 au 31. Les meilleures équipes d'Europe et d'Amérique-Les Argentins, les Mexicains-sont très forts se réunissent pour la 1 ere édition du championnat du monde de Pelote basque ! Au programme 7 disciplines : (cesta punta, paleta gomme, frontball… ) qui se déroulent auJai alai. Celui de Pau est le plus grand de France. Une bonne occasion de passer 48h à Pau. Pau ne se résume pas à la culture basque que les béarnais partagent avec leurs cousins du Pays basque. Pau c'est aussi une ville d'histoire. De culture. Evidemment son histoire est indissociable du roi de France et de Navarre : Henri IV. C'est sa ville natale. Le château de Pau est donc une halte incontournable. Autre indispensable : les villas dites anglaises -ce style béarno-anglais- entre chalets et manoirs-que les anglais & les américains ont fait pousser comme des champignons au 19 eme. Aujourd'hui il en reste une cinquantaine. A l'époque on en comptait 350. Un dernier spot à nous recommander ? le boulevard des Pyrénées, entre le château Henri IV et le Palais Beaumont justement. On fait le trait d'union. Superbe Balade : un Balcon sur les Pyrénées. C'est l'équivalent de la promenade des Anglais pour les niçois. Lamartine en parlait a Stendhal dans une lettre : Pau est la plus belle vue de terre comme Naples est la plus belle vue de mer ». Et là le meilleur pour la fin : qui dit Pyrénées dit terroir, gastronomie… D'ailleurs ca y est les vaches, les brebis finissent de quitter les estives (pâturages )… les vendanges sont passées : on attend le vin de Jurançon… Vous me voyer venir. J'ai trouvé la Bonne petite adresse rapport qualité / prix : Jumo & co. On va diner chez ces frères jumeaux les yeux fermés. J'adore vos bonnes petites adresses !! et pour dormir après ce diner gourmander, quel hôtel vous nous suggérez Le Bristol un boutique Hôtel 3 étoiles qui respire l'histoire du Béarn. Une ambiance feutrée au milieu d'antiquités. Fiche Pratique : Restaurant : Jumo & Co www.jumoandco.com Hôtel : le Bristol www.hotelbristol.com Le baeckeoffe C'est un plat métonymique. Littéralement le « four du boulanger », ce plat très traditionnel d'alsace était traditionnellement cuit dans le … four du boulanger à une époque ou les familles ne disposaient pas de four à la maison. Le dimanche matin, les familles aisées venaient déposer dans le four du boulanger leur plat de baeckeoffe qu'elles laissaient mijoter tout le temps de l'office (qui pouvait durer 3 heures). 3 viandes sont nécessaires pour élaborer un bon baeckeoffe : bœuf, porc et agneau. Le secret réside dans son long mijoté… La recette : Ingrédients - 300 g d'échine de porc - 300 g de joue de bœuf - 300 g d'épaule d'agneau - 1,2 k de pommes de terre - 1 kilos de légumes (carottes, navets, poireaux, oignons, topinambours, courge …) - 1 bouteille de vin blanc - Épices (clou de girofle, poivre, thym, baies de genièvre…) - Sel - 300 g de farine - 20 cl d'eau La veille, faire mariner les viandes coupées en morceaux dans le vins blanc et les épices (ajouter un peu d'oignon et quelques dés de carotte) / éplucher, laver et tailler les pommes de terre en rondelles / laver et tailler les légumes / dans une cocote, alterner les couches de viande, pommes de terre et légumes / arroser avec la marinade / réaliser un pate morte en mélangeant l'eau et la farine et luter la cocote / Placer la cocote au four à 200° durant 1 heure puis baisser à 160° et poursuivre la cuisson 2 heures Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Recevez des cours d'anglais par email ici: https://www.anglaiscours.fr/gestion-f... FICHE DE COURS : ***On peut employer very uniquement devant : des adjectifs d'autres adverbes I am very hungry. (J'ai très faim.) → very + adjectif He ran very quickly. (Il a couru très vite.) → very + adverbe *** Quand very est incorrect On ne peut pas utiliser very devant les adjectifs absolus et les adjectifs forts. *** Les adjectifs absolus (états qui ne peuvent pas être « plus » ou « moins ») unique (unique) perfect (parfait) dead (mort) acceptable (acceptable) unacceptable (pas acceptable) ruined (abîmé) destroyed (détruit) finished (fini) free (gratuit, libre) impossible (impossible) necessary (nécessaire) *** Les adjectifs forts (qui sont déjà très intenses) : delicious (délicieux) amazing (incroyable) enormous (énorme) huge (énorme) ancient (ancien, très vieux) awful (horrible) disgusting (dégoûtant) excellent (excellent) wonderful (super) freezing (très froid) gorgeous (superbe, splendide) exhausted (épuisé) fascinating (fascinant) terrible (horrible) tiny (minuscule) terrifying (terrifiant) certain (certain) *** Que dire à la place de very ? Nous pouvons utiliser d'autres adverbes pour souligner ou intensifier des adjectifs forts. Voici quelques exemples : ex. The evening was absolutely awful. (La soirée était absolument horrible.) ex. The sandwich was really disgusting. (Le sandwich était vraiment dégoûtant.) ex. I'm completely exhausted. (Je suis complètement épuisée.) ex. The meal was exceptionally delicious. (Le repas était exceptionnellement délicieux.) ex. The film was utterly awful. (Le film était tout à fait horrible.) À vous de jouer maintenant : Écrivez vos propres phrases avec quelques-uns de ces adjectifs.
Pour écouter l'émission en entier, sans pub, abonnez-vous ! https://m.audiomeans.fr/s/S-tavkjvmo La Guerre de Cent Ans (2/2) - Temps de crises, temps d'espoirsCharles V avait tout reconstruit. À sa mort, tout s'effondre.Dans cette seconde partie, vous plongerez au cœur d'un royaume en ruine, déchiré par la guerre civile, dirigé par un roi fou, trahi par ses proches… et humilié par la défaite d'Azincourt.Mais c'est aussi le temps des retournements : l'irruption d'une jeune fille mystérieuse, Jeanne d'Arc, la reconquête patiente du roi Charles VII, la naissance d'un État moderne.Comment une guerre interminable a-t-elle fini par accoucher d'une nation ?Un récit vivant, profond, haletant — pour comprendre comment la France a survécu à un siècle de chaos. Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Bienvenue sur Avant j'étais prof, le podcast des enseignants en reconversion.Le samedi 4 octobre dernier a eu lieu Reconvers'Lyon. Un événement autour de la reconversion des enseignants qui s'est tenu à Lyon. Nous l'avons organisé à 3 avec Nathalie, une ancienne prof qui travaille aujourd'hui avec et pour RécréAnglais (dont vous trouverez le témoignage de reconversion sur le podcast), et Émilie une enseignante en disponibilité qui a notamment écrit le livre La prof a un autre métier pour compiler toutes les informations essentielles au sujet du cumul d'activités dans l'Éducation nationale.L'événement a eu lieu l'après midi, avec un temps de présentation, des questions-réponses, de belles rencontres, de nombreux échanges et un bon goûter. 19 personnes y ont participé et je pense pouvoir dire que tout le monde en garde un chouette souvenir. 7 d'entre elles ont d'ailleurs accepté de laisser un message sur le répondeur du podcast pour partager leur ressenti, et je les en remercie infiniment. C'était un très beau moment, chargé d'émotions, et cet épisode vous donnera peut-être envie de nous rejoindre s'il y a une prochaine fois. Bonne écoute,_____Pour plus d'informations sur l'aventure RécréAnglais, contactez-moi.Pour recevoir le livre La prof a un autre métier, passez commande._____
Pour écouter l'émission en entier, sans pub, abonnez-vous ! https://m.audiomeans.fr/s/S-tavkjvmo La Guerre de Cent Ans (2/2) - Temps de crises, temps d'espoirsCharles V avait tout reconstruit. À sa mort, tout s'effondre.Dans cette seconde partie, vous plongerez au cœur d'un royaume en ruine, déchiré par la guerre civile, dirigé par un roi fou, trahi par ses proches… et humilié par la défaite d'Azincourt.Mais c'est aussi le temps des retournements : l'irruption d'une jeune fille mystérieuse, Jeanne d'Arc, la reconquête patiente du roi Charles VII, la naissance d'un État moderne.Comment une guerre interminable a-t-elle fini par accoucher d'une nation ?Un récit vivant, profond, haletant — pour comprendre comment la France a survécu à un siècle de chaos. Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Pour écouter l'émission en entier, sans pub, abonnez-vous ! https://m.audiomeans.fr/s/S-tavkjvmo La Guerre de Cent Ans (2/2) - Temps de crises, temps d'espoirsCharles V avait tout reconstruit. À sa mort, tout s'effondre.Dans cette seconde partie, vous plongerez au cœur d'un royaume en ruine, déchiré par la guerre civile, dirigé par un roi fou, trahi par ses proches… et humilié par la défaite d'Azincourt.Mais c'est aussi le temps des retournements : l'irruption d'une jeune fille mystérieuse, Jeanne d'Arc, la reconquête patiente du roi Charles VII, la naissance d'un État moderne.Comment une guerre interminable a-t-elle fini par accoucher d'une nation ?Un récit vivant, profond, haletant — pour comprendre comment la France a survécu à un siècle de chaos. Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Pour écouter l'émission en entier, sans pub, abonnez-vous ! https://m.audiomeans.fr/s/S-tavkjvmo La Guerre de Cent Ans (2/2) - Temps de crises, temps d'espoirsCharles V avait tout reconstruit. À sa mort, tout s'effondre.Dans cette seconde partie, vous plongerez au cœur d'un royaume en ruine, déchiré par la guerre civile, dirigé par un roi fou, trahi par ses proches… et humilié par la défaite d'Azincourt.Mais c'est aussi le temps des retournements : l'irruption d'une jeune fille mystérieuse, Jeanne d'Arc, la reconquête patiente du roi Charles VII, la naissance d'un État moderne.Comment une guerre interminable a-t-elle fini par accoucher d'une nation ?Un récit vivant, profond, haletant — pour comprendre comment la France a survécu à un siècle de chaos. Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Pour écouter l'émission en entier, sans pub, abonnez-vous ! https://m.audiomeans.fr/s/S-tavkjvmo La Guerre de Cent Ans (2/2) - Temps de crises, temps d'espoirsCharles V avait tout reconstruit. À sa mort, tout s'effondre.Dans cette seconde partie, vous plongerez au cœur d'un royaume en ruine, déchiré par la guerre civile, dirigé par un roi fou, trahi par ses proches… et humilié par la défaite d'Azincourt.Mais c'est aussi le temps des retournements : l'irruption d'une jeune fille mystérieuse, Jeanne d'Arc, la reconquête patiente du roi Charles VII, la naissance d'un État moderne.Comment une guerre interminable a-t-elle fini par accoucher d'une nation ?Un récit vivant, profond, haletant — pour comprendre comment la France a survécu à un siècle de chaos. Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Fluent Fiction - French: Rekindling Ties: A Walk to Remember in Nice Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/fr/episode/2025-10-11-22-34-02-fr Story Transcript:Fr: La brise marine effleurait doucement la Promenade des Anglais.En: The sea breeze gently caressed the Promenade des Anglais.Fr: C'était une belle après-midi d'automne.En: It was a beautiful autumn afternoon.Fr: Le soleil déclinant enveloppait Nice dans une lumière dorée.En: The setting sun bathed Nice in a golden light.Fr: Les gens marchaient, riaient, profitaient du doux climat.En: People were walking, laughing, enjoying the mild weather.Fr: Émile et Chantal ne parlaient plus beaucoup.En: Émile and Chantal didn't speak much anymore.Fr: À cause d'un désaccord vieux de trois ans.En: Because of a disagreement three years old.Fr: Mais aujourd'hui, ils avaient décidé de se retrouver.En: But today, they had decided to meet.Fr: Émile partait bientôt vivre dans une autre ville.En: Émile was soon leaving to live in another city.Fr: Il voulait faire la paix avec sa sœur.En: He wanted to make peace with his sister.Fr: Leurs pas étaient lents, leurs mots rares.En: Their steps were slow, their words rare.Fr: Ils parlaient du temps, de la mer, de tout sauf du vrai problème.En: They talked about the weather, the sea, everything except the real issue.Fr: Émile hésitait.En: Émile hesitated.Fr: Chantal semblait détendue, mais son regard trahissait une profonde tristesse.En: Chantal seemed relaxed, but her gaze betrayed a deep sadness.Fr: "Chantal," dit Émile doucement, "je voudrais parler de ce qui s'est passé."En: "Chantal," said Émile softly, "I would like to talk about what happened."Fr: Chantal s'arrêta un instant.En: Chantal paused for a moment.Fr: Le bruit des vagues était apaisant.En: The sound of the waves was soothing.Fr: Émile continua : "J'ai fait des erreurs.En: Émile continued, "I made mistakes.Fr: Je m'en veux."En: I regret them."Fr: Les yeux de Chantal brillèrent un peu plus.En: Chantal's eyes shone a bit more.Fr: Elle baissa légèrement la tête.En: She slightly lowered her head.Fr: "Moi aussi, Émile," répondit-elle.En: "Me too, Émile," she replied.Fr: "J'ai essayé de faire comme si cela ne me dérangeait pas.En: "I tried to pretend it didn't bother me.Fr: Mais tu m'as beaucoup manqué."En: But I've missed you a lot."Fr: Ils reprirent leur marche, plus proches qu'au début.En: They resumed their walk, closer than at the beginning.Fr: Les mots difficiles avaient été dits.En: The difficult words had been spoken.Fr: Tous deux ressentaient un poids en moins.En: Both felt a burden lifted.Fr: "Tu dois savoir," dit Émile.En: "You must know," said Émile.Fr: "J'ai vraiment envie que nous restions en contact.En: "I really want us to stay in touch.Fr: Même si je pars."En: Even if I'm leaving."Fr: Chantal acquiesça.En: Chantal nodded.Fr: "Je le veux aussi.En: "I want that too.Fr: Ça me fait du bien de te parler."En: It feels good to talk to you."Fr: Leur promenade se finit doucement.En: Their walk ended gently.Fr: Le soleil disparaissait derrière l'horizon, teintant le ciel de couleurs chaudes.En: The sun disappeared behind the horizon, coloring the sky with warm hues.Fr: Émile et Chantal souriaient.En: Émile and Chantal smiled.Fr: La paix retrouvée.En: Peace regained.Fr: Ils firent la promesse de s'appeler souvent, de ne plus laisser le silence les éloigner.En: They made a promise to call each other often, not to let silence distance them again.Fr: Ils avaient changé.En: They had changed.Fr: Émile acceptait ses émotions, et Chantal valorisait davantage les liens familiaux.En: Émile accepted his emotions, and Chantal valued family ties more.Fr: Ils se quittèrent sur une note d'espoir, prêts à reconstruire leur relation.En: They parted on a hopeful note, ready to rebuild their relationship.Fr: L'amour fraternel renaissait, porté par le doux vent du soir.En: Brotherly love was reborn, carried by the gentle evening breeze. Vocabulary Words:the sea breeze: la brise marineto caress: effleurerthe sunset: le soleil déclinantthe disagreement: le désaccordthe peace: la paixto hesitate: hésiterto betray: trahirto regret: s'en vouloirto pretend: faire comme sito feel: ressentirto accept: accepterto nod: acquiescerthe burden: le poidsthe evening breeze: le vent du soirto reborn: renaîtreto enjoy: profiter dethe setting sun: le soleil déclinantthe golden light: la lumière doréethe mild weather: le doux climatto resume: reprendreto be soothing: être apaisantthe horizon: l'horizonthe warm hues: les couleurs chaudesto value: valoriserthe family ties: les liens familiauxthe sadness: la tristessethe gaze: le regardthe hope: l'espoirthe brotherly love: l'amour fraternelto part: se quitter
Pour écouter l'émission en entier, sans pub, abonnez-vous ! https://m.audiomeans.fr/s/S-tavkjvmo La Guerre de Cent Ans (2/2) - Temps de crises, temps d'espoirsCharles V avait tout reconstruit. À sa mort, tout s'effondre.Dans cette seconde partie, vous plongerez au cœur d'un royaume en ruine, déchiré par la guerre civile, dirigé par un roi fou, trahi par ses proches… et humilié par la défaite d'Azincourt.Mais c'est aussi le temps des retournements : l'irruption d'une jeune fille mystérieuse, Jeanne d'Arc, la reconquête patiente du roi Charles VII, la naissance d'un État moderne.Comment une guerre interminable a-t-elle fini par accoucher d'une nation ?Un récit vivant, profond, haletant — pour comprendre comment la France a survécu à un siècle de chaos. Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Virginie Girod remonte le temps pour raconter le conflit le plus complexe du Moyen-Âge. En 1429, alors que la guerre de Cent Ans fait rage, le Dauphin reçoit Jeanne d'Arc à Chinon. Le 8 mai, elle parvient à défaire les Anglais à Orléans. Mais le malheur guette la Pucelle. (rediffusion)Au Cœur de l'Histoire est un podcast Europe 1.- Présentation et écriture : Virginie Girod- Production : Armelle Thiberge et Clara Leger- Réalisation : Julien Tharaud- Diffusion : Estelle Lafont et Clara Ménard- Composition du générique : Julien Tharaud- Visuel : Sidonie ManginBibliographie et ressources en ligne : - Philippe Contamine de l'Institut, Charles VII, une vie une politique, Perrin, 2021- Valérie Toureille, Jeanne d'Arc, Perrin, 2020- La guerre de Cent Ans résumée en 2 minutes - CmnHébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
English, please is a podcast designed to help improve your English by listening to clear, intermediate English about many different topics like history, culture, art, music, travel, and language.Episode 46: How to Watch Movies in English Without SubtitlesWatching movies in English can be enjoyable, but also frustrating. What's the best way to enjoy the experience while also improving your understanding? In this episode, you'll learn practical tips to watch English-language movies with confidence, gradually moving from subtitles in your language to English subtitles and finally no subtitles at all! As with all episodes, this one is just the right length for practicing your listening skills in one sitting. This means you can improve your English without needing a lot of time.Episode vocabularyAccess vocabulary words using a podcast player that supports chapters, like Apple Podcasts, Player FM, Overcast. Episode transcriptPodcast website Buy me a coffee to support the showSubscribe to the newsletter for episode updates and occasional English-language content to help you practice! Hosted by Ausha. See ausha.co/privacy-policy for more information.
Téléchargez la fiche du cours ici : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/small-vs-little?utm_source=podcast&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=small_vs._little_en_anglais Hello everyone. Connaissez-vous la différence entre « SMALL » et « LITTLE » en anglais ? Ces deux adjectifs signifient « PETIT », mais leur usage n'est pas exactement le même. Dans cette leçon, Alban et Ben expliquent comment utiliser correctement ces adjectifs anglais. AnglaisCours Club est une méthode en ligne, animée par une petite équipe de professeurs enthousiastes, qui vous propose des formations en ligne conviviales et simples d'accès. Si vous souhaitez apprendre l'anglais cette année, rejoignez-nous sur l'Espace Membres AnglaisCours Club et accédez à toutes nos formations : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/commencer Accédez à un test de niveau : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/test-de-niveau-anglais.html Téléchargez 150 phrases utiles pour bien communiquer en anglais : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/150phrases Accédez à notre site de cours d'anglais : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/ Accédez à notre catalogue formations en ligne : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/formations #apprendrelanglais #anglais #coursdanglais #learnenglish #english #speakenglish
Depuis que j'ai le bonheur de pouvoir vous écouter chaque vendredi, j'ai remarqué quelque chose de commun à toutes vos histoires : quand il y a un coup de foudre, ce n'est jamais pour rien.Il existe plusieurs théories : certaines sont chimiques, d'autres karmiques. Certains parlent d'un instinct exacerbé, d'une intuition qui, lorsqu'on la laisse s'exprimer, ne trompe pas.Quand le correspondant anglais de Noémie a un coup de foudre pour elle, tout est dit : l'histoire devra se vivre, même s'il faut une vie avant.Clémentine De La Grange a réalisé cet épisode, Stéphane Bidart l'a monté et mis en musique. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
Cathy et Orianne Robert Du Camp D'Orgas se penchent sur les défis d'apprendre le français en Suisse.Elles explorent les complexités du multilinguisme en Suisse: diversité culturelle et stéréotypes mais aussi les défis de l'enseignement des langues à l'école et la place de plus en plus importante de l'anglais. Elles parlent sans filtre des difficultés et discriminations rencontrées par les immigrants faisant face à la barrière des langues et des tests de niveau requis pour obtenir les visas. Oriane et Cathy partagent leur point de vue sur les limites des examens type DELF, DALF, TCF, TEF, Fide pour évaluer le niveau réel et leur utilité pour les apprenants qui souhaitent évoluer professionnellement.Sommaire00:00 Le multilinguisme suisse02:10 Un si petit pays avec 4 langues officielles!05:04 Différences culturelles : Suisse romande francophone vs Suisse alémanique germanophone07:14 C'est quoi l'accent suisse?10:39 Les défis de l'enseignement des langues en Suisse face à l'hégémonie internationale de l'anglais14:41 Les défis de l'apprentissage des langues pour les immigrés19:24 Les tests de langue sont-ils réellement utiles?23:19 Le rôle d'un coach linguistique selon Orianne et CathyTranscription disponible: https://francais.mypolyglotlife.com/2025/09/26/coach-de-francais-en-suisse-pour-vous-accompagner/Devenez membre Patreon pour accéder à la fiche de vocabulaire de l'épisode et enrichir votre lexique: https://www.patreon.com/c/cathyintro
13 septembre 1759, une journée qui va changer le Québec à tout jamais ! Adhérez à cette chaîne pour obtenir des avantages : https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCN4TCCaX-gqBNkrUqXdgGRA/join Merci à Geneviève C. Bergeron pour les commentaires sur la vidéo. Pour soutenir la chaîne, au choix: 1. Cliquez sur le bouton « Adhérer » sous la vidéo. 2. Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/hndl Musique issue du site : epidemicsound.com Images provenant de https://www.storyblocks.com Abonnez-vous à la chaine: https://www.youtube.com/c/LHistoirenousledira 00:00:00 -Introduction 00:03:16 - Les techniques de guerre 00:06:30 - Les combattants de 1759 00:11:09 - Les offensives britanniques 00:13:32 - La stratégie française 00:16:33 - La montée des troupes britanniques à la falaise de Québec 00:19:08 - La bataille des Plaines d'Abraham 00:26:52 - La capitulation de Québec 00:30:39 - La bataille de Sainte-Foy 00:32:54 - La capitulation de Montréal 00:33:39 - Le traité de Paris et la fin de la Nouvelle-France Les vidéos sont utilisées à des fins éducatives selon l'article 107 du Copyright Act de 1976 sur le Fair-Use. Sources et pour aller plus loin: Dave Noël, Montcalm, général américain, Montréal, Boréal, 2018, Dave Noël, « La guerre de Sept Ans en Amérique du Nord », Nouvelle-France, Histoire et patrimoine, no1, 2019. Dave Noël, « L'agonie du marquis de Montcalm », Le Devoir, 27 janvier 2023. Joseph Gagné, « Voix de guerre : le renseignement au sein de l'armée française lors de la guerre de Sept Ans en Amérique du Nord », thèse de doctorat, histoire, Université Laval, 2020. Michel Thévenin, Changer le système de la guerre, Québec, Presses de l'Université Laval, 2020. Fred Anderson, Crucible of War: The Seven Years' War and the Fate of Empire in British North America, 1754-1766, New York, Random House, 2001 W.J. Eccles, France in America, New York, Harper & Row, 1972. Gérard Filteau, Par la bouche de mes canons. La ville de Québec face à l'ennemi, Québec, Septentrion, 1990. Jacinthe de Montigny, « Rendre compte des conflits nord-américains : une analyse des gazettes européennes durant la guerre de Sept Ans (1754-1763) », thèse de doctorat, histoire, Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières, 2023. Marcel Fournier, « Les soldats de la guerre de Sept Ans en Nouvelle-France, 1755-1760 », dans Laurent Veyssière et Bertrand Fonck (dir.), La guerre de Sept Ans en Nouvelle-France, Québec, Septentrion, 2012, p. 237-242. Jacques Lacoursière, Jean Provencher et Denis Vaugeois, Canada-Québec, 1534-2010, Québec, Septentrion, 2011 Charles Perry Stacey, Quebec, 1759 : The Siege and the Battle, Toronto, Robin Brass Studio, 2002. Commission des Champs de Bataille nationaux en collaboration avec Hélène Quimper, Les Plaines d'Abraham. Champ de bataille de 1759 à 1760, Montréal, Boréal, 2022. Gaston Deschênes, L'Année des Anglais : la Côte-du-Sud à l'heure de la Conquête, Québec, Septentrion, 2021. Jacques Mathieu et Sophie Imbeault, La guerre des Canadiens, 1756-1763, Québec, Septentrion, 2013. D. Peter MacLeod, La vérité sur la bataille des Plaines d'Abraham, les huit minutes de tirs d'artillerie qui ont façonné un continent, Montréal, L'Homme, 2008. Stephen Brumwell, Paths of Glory. The Life and Death of General Wolfe, Montreal, McGill-Queen's University Press, 2006, Louise Dechêne, Le peuple, l'État et la guerre au Canada sous le Régime français, Montréal, Boréal, 2008. « Le siège de Québec », Commission des champs de bataille nationaux, http://bataille.ccbn-nbc.gc.ca/ Hubert Cousineau, « L'implantation des soldats français de la guerre de Sept Ans au Canada (1755-1830) », mémoire de maîtrise, histoire, Université de Sherbrooke, 2021 Bertrand Fonck, « La campagne de 1760 et la bataille de Sainte-Foy », dans Nouvelle-France, Histoire et patrimoine, no 1, 2019. Laurent Veyssière (dir.), La Nouvelle-France en héritage, Paris, Armand Colin, 2013. Guy Frégault, La Guerre de la Conquête, Montréal, Fides, 1955. Edmond Dziembowski, La guerre de Sept Ans, 1756-1763, Québec, Septentrion, 2015 Jonathan R. Dull, La guerre de Sept Ans, Les Perséides, 2009. Francois Crouzet, « The Second Hundred Years War: Some Reflections », French History, 1996, p. 432-450. Charles-Philippe Courtois, La Conquête, une anthologie, Montréal, Typo, 2009 Jacques Godbout, Le sort de l'Amérique, 1996. « Bataille des Plaines d'Abraham », Wikipédia, Joan Coutu, Persuasion and Propaganda: Monuments, 2006. Battlefield Quebec (2009) https://youtu.be/Osj47uHJkUs?si=abEOIzhIe4PbAYjh Autres références disponibles sur demande. #histoire #documentaire #quebec #bataillequebec #plainesabraham #conquest #war
TEASER, vendredi dans EX… "Le correspondant anglais" Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
Accédez à la PROMO AnglaisCours Club ici : https://www.anglaiscours.fr/commencer PROMO : C'est la rentrée des classes ! Septembre est toujours un excellent moment pour se (re)mettre à l'anglais. Et vous ? Allez-vous aussi (re)trouver le plaisir d'apprendre et de suivre des cours en rejoignant notre Espace Membres en ligne ? https://www.anglaiscours.fr/commencer Pour cela, nous vous proposons une GRANDE PROMOTION pour accéder à TOUTES LES FORMATIONS en ligne d'AnglaisCours Club. ATTENTION !!! La promo se termine à minuit ce soir le 24 septembre 2025. Profitez-en maintenant sinon, il sera trop tard !!! https://www.anglaiscours.fr/commencer Tessa, Ben et moi (Alban) avons hâte de vous retrouver sur le site des cours d'anglais, AnglaisCours Club. À très bientôt ! https://www.anglaiscours.fr/commencer #apprendrelanglais #anglais #coursdanglais #learnenglish #english #speakenglish
En août 1591 le soldat anglais Knivet embarque sur une flotte pour le détroit de Magellan. Il sera abandonné sur une île brésilienne et vivra dix ans entre les Portugais et les Indiens. Mention légales : Vos données de connexion, dont votre adresse IP, sont traités par Radio Classique, responsable de traitement, sur la base de son intérêt légitime, par l'intermédiaire de son sous-traitant Ausha, à des fins de réalisation de statistiques agréées et de lutte contre la fraude. Ces données sont supprimées en temps réel pour la finalité statistique et sous cinq mois à compter de la collecte à des fins de lutte contre la fraude. Pour plus d'informations sur les traitements réalisés par Radio Classique et exercer vos droits, consultez notre Politique de confidentialité.Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
--Pour collaborations ou toutes questions : info@lapochebleue.comAbonne-toi pour ne rien manquer! Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lapochebleueqc/ Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lapochebleue TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@lapochebleue Twitter: https://twitter.com/lapochebleue Youtube : https://www.youtube.com/@LaPocheBleueNos podcasts sont disponibles sur toutes les plateformes : https://linktr.ee/lapochebleue Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
Ein letztes Mal wurden in Nizza Weltmeister im Ironman gekürt – und ein erstes Mal standen drei Norweger auf dem Treppchen. Wir blicken zurück auf die Ironman World Championship 2025 und analysieren den epischen Showdown im Mittelmeer, in den Seealpen und auf der Promenade des Anglais.
durée : 00:07:02 - Les Nuits de France Culture - par : Philippe Garbit, Albane Penaranda, Mathilde Wagman - En 1948, l'auteur anglais de romans policier et d'espionnage, père de Lemmy Caution et de Slim Callaghan, était de passage à Paris. L'occasion pour Peter Cheyney de parler de son succès et de donner quelques conseils d'écriture, (Gazette de Paris 1ère diffusion : 01/12/1948 Chaîne Nationale). - réalisation : Virginie Mourthé - invités : Peter Cheyney Auteur de romans policier anglais (22 février 1896-26 juin 1951)
Aujourd'hui, Yves Camdeborde, chef restaurateur, Joëlle Dago-Serry, coach de vie, et Mourad Boudjellal, éditeur de BD, débattent de l'actualité autour d'Alain Marschall et Olivier Truchot.
En 1915, sur les plages de la péninsule de Gallipoli, Anglais, Français, Australiens et Néo-zélandais s'enlisent dans des combats sans fin. Sur les hauteurs du détroit, les Ottomans menés par Mustafa Kemal les entraînent en enfer. Aux Dardanelles, Churchill se rêvait conquérant... il n'y trouva qu'un désastre, un piège mortel. Revivez le plus grand échec militaire du chef de guerre britannique. Crédits : Lorànt Deutsch, Brno Deltombe Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
durée : 00:05:20 - Tanguy Pastureau maltraite l'info - par : Tanguy Pastureau - Macron a promis de prêter la tapisserie de Bayeux aux Anglais. Seul problème : elle est plus fragile qu'un sopalin mouillé. Vous aimez ce podcast ? Pour écouter tous les autres épisodes sans limite, rendez-vous sur Radio France.
Un crâne et une mâchoire découverts dans une carrière du Sussex, et l'Angleterre s'imagine avoir trouvé son ancêtre. Pendant quarante ans, l'homme de Piltdown a régné sur la paléontologie, avant que la science ne révèle… une supercherie. Mention légales : Vos données de connexion, dont votre adresse IP, sont traités par Radio Classique, responsable de traitement, sur la base de son intérêt légitime, par l'intermédiaire de son sous-traitant Ausha, à des fins de réalisation de statistiques agréées et de lutte contre la fraude. Ces données sont supprimées en temps réel pour la finalité statistique et sous cinq mois à compter de la collecte à des fins de lutte contre la fraude. Pour plus d'informations sur les traitements réalisés par Radio Classique et exercer vos droits, consultez notre Politique de confidentialité.Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Avant la colonisation européenne, le territoire des futurs États-Unis était peuplé par des centaines de nations amérindiennes, chacune avec sa propre langue. De nombreux États portent encore aujourd'hui des noms inspirés ou directement issus de ces langues autochtones.Exemples :Ohio vient du mot ohi-yo' en iroquois, qui signifie « grande rivière ».Dakota signifie « ami » ou « allié » en langue sioux.Missouri vient du peuple des Missouria, et signifie « ceux qui ont des canoës en bois ».Massachusetts signifie « lieu de la grande colline » en algonquien.On estime qu'environ plus de 25 des 50 États ont des noms d'origine amérindienne.2. Des noms espagnols et françaisAvant que les Anglais ne dominent le territoire, d'autres puissances coloniales avaient laissé leur empreinte linguistique :L'Espagne a exploré et colonisé une grande partie du sud et de l'ouest des futurs États-Unis. Résultat : des noms commeFlorida (la fleurie),Nevada (« enneigée »),Colorado (« coloré », en référence à la rivière),Montana (« montagne »).La France a laissé des traces en Louisiane (nommée en l'honneur du roi Louis XIV), mais aussi dans des noms d'États commeVermont (de vert mont, montagne verte),Illinois (nom d'un peuple amérindien, francisé),Arkansas (autre nom amérindien transmis par les Français).3. L'influence anglaise reste présente… mais minoritaireIl existe bien sûr des noms d'origine anglaise, surtout dans la Nouvelle-Angleterre, colonisée directement par les Anglais :New Hampshire, New York, New Jersey, Connecticut…Ou encore Georgia, en l'honneur du roi George II,Et South Carolina et North Carolina, pour le roi Charles (Carolus en latin).Mais ces cas sont relativement peu nombreux : l'anglais a dominé l'administration, la langue, la culture… mais pas toujours les toponymes, qui sont restés marqués par les peuples et langues précédents.En résuméLa plupart des noms des États américains ne sont pas en anglais car ils reflètent la diversité des peuples autochtones et des colonisateurs non anglophones (Espagnols, Français) qui ont précédé ou accompagné la colonisation britannique. Ce sont de véritables palimpsestes linguistiques, témoins de l'histoire multiculturelle du continent. Hébergé par Acast. Visitez acast.com/privacy pour plus d'informations.
Mes chers camarades, bien le bonjour !Bon, Macron met encore le feu aux poudres. Alors vous allez me dire sur quoi ? Question légitime parce qu'il y a du nouveau tout le temps, mais ici on parle d'Histoire. Bon, ça change rien, il y a aussi des shitstorms toutes les semaines avec lui et son gouvernement sur ce genre de thématique… Bref, vous l'avez sûrement vu passer, Macron veut prêter la tapisserie de Bayeux aux Anglais et ça fait du bruit, beaucoup de bruit, et je vous explique pourquoi ! Bonne écoute !
Vous nous demandez très souvent des recommandations d'épisodes de Génération Do It Yourself.Nous avons décidé de vous proposer dans une mini-série de nos recos d'épisodes à écouter pour vos week-ends, vacances, sessions de sport, ou pour vos trajets en voiture, en train etc.Des épisodes à écouter seul à ou à plusieurs, à (re)découvrir, des épisodes oubliés, des épisodes encore d'actualité…Enjoy !——————————————On finit cette série de l'été avec une retrospective de nos épisodes en anglais avec des invités mondialement reconnus :#431 - Sean Rad - Tinder - How the swipe fever took over the world#475 - Shane Parrish - Farnam Street - Clear Thinking: The Decision-Making Expert#437 - James Dyson - Dyson - “Failure is more exciting than success”#473 - Brian Chesky - Airbnb - « We're just getting started »#470 - Maurice Lévy - Publicis - Faire de la publicité son empire#483 - Carlos Ghosn - Out of the box : masterclass business de l'évadé du siècleN'hésitez pas à partager vos retours sur vos réseaux en nous mentionnant si l'un de ces épisodes vous a plu.Pour retrouver le quizz (#1 des recos de l'été 2025) c'est par ici : https://www.gdiy.fr/podcast/hors-serie-ete-1-quizz/Et le #2 : https://www.gdiy.fr/podcast/hors-serie-ete-2-les-meilleurs-episodes-de-lannee/Vous pouvez contacter Clémence sur LinkedIn et sur Instagram.Vous souhaitez sponsoriser Génération Do It Yourself ou nous proposer un partenariat ?Contactez mon label Orso Media via ce formulaire.Hébergé par Audiomeans. Visitez audiomeans.fr/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
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