#i was like well surely french does not have a word for 'person who sells coal while drinking coffee'.

[coquelicoq]

le robert de poche: bougnat n. m. fam. et vieilli Marchand de charbon (qui tenait souvent un café)

me: somebody who sells coal...and drinks a lot of coffee? someone who sells coal while holding coffee? why would this be a thing, france?

wordreference french-to-english dictionary: bougnat nm argot, vieilli (vendeur de charbon et de boissons) (historical) coalman and barkeeper n

me: ...why would this be a thing, france??

[hibiscus02]

I just read Legoland and I decided to compile some helpful tidbits about Penny's character, for all your fanfic writer needs!

If you want to write RTC fanfic using her canon personality and backstory, this is the place for you. I apologize if someone has done something similar!

•Let's start with her basic introduction in the play;

"PENNY is a young woman wearing French braids and a private school uniform; she has a bright smile." "PENNY: Hello. My name is Penny Lamb, and I am an aspiring animal conservationist." "PENNY speaks at an incredible speed, being an immensely nervous and self-conscious teenager. She literally trips over her words -- a volcano of passion and eloquence."

Now I'll give you some backstory and character info without getting into Legoland's plot. This is so people who don't have an interest in the story itself can still grasp the basics of Penny's character.

Both Penny and her little brother (Ezra) were homeschooled. They grew up on the Elysium Community Farm, just outside of Uranium City.

When Penny turned 13, she was already getting "itchy" to see the outside world (kids were not allowed to leave Elysium until they turned 16). She thought she knew what to expect after reading 'Anne of Green Gables'.

The Lambs snuck out to a Walmart and found out it was very different from what they thought it would be. They tried to strike up conversations with people but everyone seemed weirded out by them (they snuck out several times to try and "strike up friendly chats")

Eventually the manager called the police who drove them home. That's when "all that trouble happened"

Penny's parents got 15 years in prison for cultivation and trafficking of narcotics. Her and Erza were sent to Saint Cassian Catholic School (which as I'm sure you all know is the same school that the choir members attend, obviously, since Uranium City isn't big enough to have more than one school). It is stated to be a boarding school in this so that's some extra lore for us I guess.

"PENNY: The instant I see the boys staring at me like gaping fish with their heads cut off… and the girls looking at me with those Queen of England smiles… Oh, little Penny wasn’t in Kansas anymore… Uh-uh… I was sent to the charred black bowels of everlasting Hell!"

Despite her homeschooling education Penny is actually very smart, but the values taught to her don't really go over well with a catholic school system. She also likes to use 'big words'.

Penny gets sent to the school psychiatrist, and allegedly diagnosed as Bipolar and manic depressive (to me it seemed implied that the psychiatrist was a crook, but maybe I'm reading too much into it. Do with this information what you will).

She does go through a depressive episode though, or what sure looks like one; "PENNY: Like, sleeping in my room all day… tearing my hair and throwing up, kind of suicidal and depressed and everything… So, one day a bunch of girls were setting fire to my school bag -- second time that week -- and I wasn’t even crying anymore… because, you get to a point… when you’re waaaay beyond crying."

Penny can play the ukulele and she also composes songs (or, she writes at least one during the play, but y'know)

She seems to be very against cussing, just as much as Ocean is, and reprimands Ezra whenever he cusses throughout the play.

Penny is a pescetarian.

She goes on this insane cross-country trip with her brother to the US, and whenever they get to a new state she always recites how many endangered species they have there. I just thought this was cute, and very Jane-like.

So yeah, without getting too much into it, Penny throws hot coffee on this guy and uhhh, bites him? Apparently? The assault charges get dropped and she gets extradited back to Canada, but the story was leaked to the media and she was famous for a little bit.

The way Penny and Ezra got money to travel to the US in the first place was by selling his ADHD prescription meds, so she goes to trial for drug dealing, and gets probation (they don't specify how long she's on probation for in the play).

At the very end of the script, Penny states she'd like to say something about true love. I wanted to include part of what she said because it's quite lovely (and oh y'all can make so much fanfic with this); "In a world where we are ultimately alone, and die in our own arms, love is the closest you come to another person… because it is the closest you come to being another person. So be very careful what you love."

*this quote is apparently also in some versions of rtc, I assume as an easter egg of sorts.

Sorry this is so long. I love Penny Lamb a lot and I also think she's insane <3

[nickgerlich]

Ghost In The Machine

Leave it to human ingenuity. Or perhaps I should say corporate genius. It seems that for every process, law, or method, there is a hack to work around it. Never mind that things were probably good enough the way they were. It’s just that, in our zeal to have an edge over others, we look for the loopholes.

Like all of the ghost kitchens and virtual brands we have discussed earlier this term. While I lauded them early—and correctly so—for leveraging their physical locations so they could test out new concepts and menu items on Uber Eats, DoorDash, and others, it has now become apparent that some of these players have simply duplicated their menus and slapped on a different brand name just so it could grab another line on the list of restaurants we see on our phones.

And now Uber Eats is fighting back, saying that in order to get those multiple listings, the virtual brand must have at least a 60% different menu. Who would have thought it would all come down to this?

But it is a good response from Uber Eats, because they have been taken advantage of in all this by those restaurants and ghost kitchens—which we define as an establishment with no indoor seating, and often located in an industrial park or even parking lot—who are trying to simply boost their odds of making online sales.

Whoa. That may very well qualify as the longest sentence I have written this semester. But I digress.

It is fair conclusion jumping to agree that the kitchens being accused of such chicanery are just being smart. They can try different price points, names, and a slew of other marketing variables, without having to actually create new products. And they are betting that most consumers will never notice. Just imagine, though, a Little Caesars—for example—also selling Bigga Pizza Pies, but they all come out of the same oven with the same crust, sauce, mozzarella, and toppings. Could you tell? And would you even care?


Uber Eats, et al., all want to make money, to be fair, but they do not want their service to be scammed like this. Getting two listings is little different form somehow managing to wrangle two display ads in a newspaper when you bought one, or any number of other of duplicative examples.

But wait, there’s more! Uber is also raising the bar on those it does list, requiring each establishment to have at least a 4.3 out of 5 rating on their app, have fewer than five-percent of orders canceled, and have fewer than five-percent delivery and order errors.

Thus far, Uber has removed more than 5000 entities it attests are simply clones of their parent, finding, in one instance, that a New York deli had 14 such clones under its umbrella. Can you imagine submitting 14 resumes for a job, each with a different name, but the person were the same? Shakespeare said a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but that doesn’t work so well in job hunting or restaurant listings.

Uber says, though, it counts 40,000 virtual listings. Its internal police department is going to have its hands full enforcing its latest policy decision.

I know. You’ve probably already started thinking of a new hack in the wake of Uber clamping down. Why not simply give different names and/or plating variations so that the items are still pretty much the same, but look different on your screen? That would likely be easy. Imagine a meal of the Monster Burger and French Fries also being listed under a different brand as the Hamburger Monstre and pomme frites. Pretty much the same thing, but one sounds so cosmopolitan and worldly.

I’m pretty sure the ghost kitchens are already preparing their workarounds, because that’s the way we all roll. The spoils go to those who can hack the best. Meanwhile, just be careful placing your food orders. You might just be a victim as well. I can see that international burger fetching a higher price tag if only because it uses French words.

And I can imagine you looking like a ghost when you find out you’ve been duped, too.

Dr “Or You Could Just Cook At Home“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[amphibious-thing]

Heyy, how are you?? i hope you're great today!

So, I have a question, which idk if it is in your areaof study, but I'm pretty sure it is, but I've read somewhere sometime ago, that "homosexuality was decriminalised in France during the French Revolution" so, does this checks out? is it like, true and stuff? 'cause I do think that it sounds a little bit too good to be true, not to mention that also it could've been just a modern interpretation of their words, different of the way they meant it back then.

Thank you for your answer =)

It is true. There were no sodomy laws in the Penal Code of 1791. Before this sodomy had been illegal under French law. A 1780's legal book defines sodomy as "the crime of any man with a man, of any woman with a woman; even of a man with a woman, when, by unimaginable debauchery, they do not use the ordinary path of procreation." (Michael David Sibalis, The Regulation of Male Homosexuality in Revolutionary and Napoleonic France, 1789-1815, p81) The traditional punishment for sodomy under French law was burning at the stake. However sodomy was infrequently persecuted in 18th century France. Sibalis explains:

Noble and well-to-do sodomites were generally released with a warning; the rest were usually detained for no more than a few weeks. The magistrates rarely bothered to prosecute arrested sodomites in the courts. (p81)

The last men executed for sodomy in France were Bruno Lenoir and Jean Diot who had been caught having sex on the rue Montorgueil. They were strangled and burnt at the stake on the 6th of July, 1750. A contemporary, Edmond Barbier, wrote in his journal that the “execution was carried out in order to make an example,” because “it is said that this crime is becoming very common”. He adds that “because these two workers had no relations with persons of distinction, either at court or of the city, and because they apparently incriminated no one else, this example was made without any consequences.” (Sibalis p81)

Legislators never provided an explanation as to why they chose to omit sodomy form the the Penal Code of 1791 however Le Pelletier de Saint-Fargeau commented that it outlawed only “true crimes” and not “those phony offenses created by superstition, feudalism, the tax system, and despotism.” (Sibalis p82)

The Penal Code of 1791 covered felonies, while the Code of Municipal Police and Correctional Police, commonly known as the Law of 19-22 July 1791 covered misdemeanours. While the only sex crime listed in the Penal Code of 1791 was rape, the Law of 19-22 July 1791 dealt with “public indecency”, Chapter II, Article 8 declared:

Those accused of having committed a gross public indecency, by a public offense against the decency of women, by unseemly actions, by displaying or selling obscene images, of having encouraged debauchery, or having corrupted young people of either sex, will be immediately arrested.

The punishment for such an offence was a fine of 50 to 100 livres and a prison term of no more than six months, however those who “encouraged debauchery” or “corrupted” young people were liable for a prison term of one year. (Sibalis p83)

It seems that the punishments handed out for crimes of “gross public indecency” were similar for both heterosexual and homosexual couples. For example in 1803 two men were sentenced to one year in prison for “having committed a public offense against decency, by mutually corrupting each other on a public road.” The same sentence was given in 1813 to a man and woman found “copulating one night in a Parisian street.” (Sibalis p84)

However while sodomy may have been legal in France it was certainly not socially acceptable and people may have been more likely to report instances of homosexual “public indecency”. In the evening on the 25th of March 1792, volunteers serving in a battalion stationed at the Tuileries Palace, “knowing that every day there are men in the Tuileries [gardens] who indulge with each other in a vile debauchery” decided to take a walk in the gardens to “try and catch some of these individuals in the act.” They broke up a group of men having sex and captured Alexandre Coindé, a twenty-two-year-old domestic servant. (Sibalis p86)

Police of the 1790′s deplored the new laws complaining that they were “inadequate” and that “Moral depravation is extreme and today’s generation is in a state of great disorder, the unfortunate consequences of which are incalculable for the coming generation. Sodomite love and sapphic love . . . are making deplorable progress.” (Sibalis p86-7)

Despite sodomy being ostensibly legal police would still harass homosexual men. For instance, in 1804 police arrested domestic servants, 28-year-old Philippe-Jacques Bergerat and 35-year-old Henry Duhem. Police had been searching Bergerat’s apartment for stolen goods, when they found his correspondence with Duhem “from which one sees that these two individuals engage together in Pederasty, and make the most revolting protestations of what they call their mutual love.” The prefect of police declared that “their well-attested immorality makes it necessary to sequester them for some time, and even to seperate them, so as to increase their punishment.” They were imprisoned for seven weeks, then Bergerat was expelled to his hometown of Etampes and Duhem back to Belgium. (Sibalis p93)

Legal precedent was set in 1805 with the case of the pharmacist Louis Nicolas Millet. Millet belonged to a small tight-knit community of sodomites in Chartres.

In the winter of 1805 army tailor Louis Fonteneau attended a carnival ball. He was shocked when a masked stranger stoked his butt. He soon learnt of a “clique” of sodomites of “more than 150 persons” in Chartres and resolved “to avenge humanity”. Fonteneau pretended to be a sodomite and soon made the acquaintance of Louis Nicolas Millet and Lubin Cassegrain who was the “usual companion of the pharmacist’s shameful pleasures.” Fonteneau invited Millet and Cassegrain to join him in an inn where he and several soldiers ambushed them, beat them, and chased them into the street, “calling them rogues, scoundrels and sodomites.” The magistrates initially wanted to charge Fonteneau and his accomplices with criminal assault, but upon learning the reason for the attack they instead decided to charge Millet and Cassegrain “with an offense against morals and corruption or attempted corruption of young people.”

This sparked controversy as surely the laws against public indecency did not extend to sex that occurred in private. Guillard, the imperial prosecutor for the department of the Eure-et-Loir, found it hard to believe that “our new laws have, as some people seem to think, remained silent on the kind of offense in question.” He suggested that “perhaps out of respect for public decency” the Constituent Assembly had not wanted to “set down the horrible name [of the crime] in black and white.” He insisted that Article 8 of the Law of 19-22 July 1791 implicitly proscribed sodomy because sodomy was against “good morals”.

Henri-Simon-Thibault Poullin de Flenis, the public prosecutor for Chartres, disagreed with Guillard. “Would you sincerely believe that the simple word sodomy cannot appear in the Penal Code with impunity, alongside rape and other similar words?” While Poullin believed sodomy fell outside of what was covered by the law he was in no way an ally, instead arguing that such cases should be quietly handled by the police:

Let us abandon these men to the avenging action of the police. . . . May their names perish and the memory of their crimes! Let us not, of course, burn the guilty, but let us follow the old custom . . . spare them, and burn their trial.

In other words Poullin believed that the public scandal of a sodomy trial was not worth it, but instead the police should be given sole discretion to do as they saw fit.

With Guillard and Poullin unable to come to an agreement the case was passed up all the way to Napoleon who on the 17th of July 1805 declared:

We are not in a country where the law should concern itself with these offenses. Nature has seen to it that they are not frequent. The scandal of legal proceedings would only tend to multiply them. It would be better to give the proceedings another direction.

In the end the police let Millet go and Cassegrain had already fled Charters. However Napoleon’s decision in the Millet case set the precedent for years to come. (Sibalis p89-92)

The minister of justice summarised the government’s position in 1806:

We should probably consider it to be a wise precaution that our modern legislation has not classed among the crimes and misdemeanours an unnatural vice, which the former laws punished with the ultimate penalty. The Code of Correctional Police [of 19-22 July 1791] contains only a vague provision against those who commit a public offense against morals, which, if need be can apply to individuals accused of sodomy and pederasty, when chance or malice reveal to the public certain scandalous circumstances of their private lives; but the investigation and prosecution of such deeds is probably no less dangerous and no less harmful to good morals than leaving the crime itself unpunished. However secret an investigation may be, it will not be long before the public knows about it. In a small town, it becomes the subject of all conversations; it arouses every passion. (Sibalis p92)

Napoleon and his minister of justice essentially gave the go ahead to police to handle cases of sodomy as they pleased, as long as they handled it quietly.

In looking at nine men involved in six cases Sibalis notes that the prefect of police in Paris “acting entirely on his own authority,” inflicted “remarkably similar penalties” in sodomy cases, not even distinguishing between those “whose behaviour was consensual and private and those who committed public indecencies or molested children.” The cases involved “two discreet lovers found out by chance, a teacher who sexually abused his pupils, a young out-of-work pederast, a settled couple whose unspecified activities shocked their neighbours, a recently arrived child molester, and two men who committed a public offence against decency.” Each case was punished with “several weeks in prison and/or expulsion from Paris.” (Sibalis p94)

The Penal Code of 1810 continued to omit sodomy and include laws against public indecency and the corruption of young people. (Article 330 and Article 334 respectively). In 1942 the age of consent for homosexual acts was raised to 21 and was not equalised again with heterosexual acts until 1982.

While the Penal Code of 1791 didn’t completely end the persecution of queer people in France, it is still somewhat remarkable that France expunged their sodomy laws in 1791. Especially when compared to many other countries. The UK didn’t legalise consensual sex between men over the age of 21 until 1967 (Sexual Offences Act 1967) and it wasn't until 2000 that age of consent was equalised (Sexual Offences (Amendment) Act 2000). Australia legalised sodomy state by state the first being South Australia in 1975 (Criminal Law (Sexual Offences) Amendment Act 1975), the last Tasmania in 1997 (Toonen v. Australia). In the USA Illinois was the first decriminalise sodomy in 1961 (Criminal Code of 1961), but it was not until 2003 that the Supreme Court ruled sodomy laws unconstitutional (Lawrence v. Texas).

[poisonouswritings]

Hello, this may be a specific one and i hope that's alright for you, i apologies if it's not; but can you write headcanons for the Main3 (Felix, Sage and Anisa) with an MC who is not a native english speaker but speaks it fluently please ?

So they have a rather heavy accent (something like a french accent) and sometimes it can be hard to understand them when they pronounce certain words or even insert words of their native language when they forget how to say it in english, so it goes something like:

"have you seen ze.. how to say ? ...Le tome magique ? You know, ze book i waz readeeng earliair ?"

(also like to insult anyone that annoys them in their mother tongue, so Rime or Escell the person don't understand them but know it's probably an insult or something lol)

Thank you !

Hehe funny props to you for that anon this is a really creative one. Good job.

GN!Reader, Colored Bullet Rule (Felix, Anisa, Sage), I'm learning German so I'm gonna use a German accent

I just think it's even funnier if Astraea does not have any accent similar so every single time you speak everyone around you is like 'what the actual fuck are you saying'

You come into the dining hall "I haf been practicingkt zis damn spell fur ze last two hours-" "MC are you doing an incantation right now?" "Vhat? No, uff kourse nicht-" "It doesn't sound like any spell I've ever heard." "Did I nicht chust say zat I'm nicht-" "Should we be ducking for cover or something?" "Fick dich (fuck you)"

German curse words!

Felix is micromanaging your spellcasting and you look back at him and go 'Erbsenzähler' (aka someone who obsesses over tiny details, literal translation is 'pea counter') (affectionate) and he's just like ??? Huh????

Anisa is being woefully dismissive of Orion's shady acts and trying to defend her and whatever and you're a little frustrated with her and you go 'Anisa, schlatz ('gem'), you must schtop beingkt a gehirnverweigerer ('brain denier') (affectionate) about zis' and y'know what? She is so distracted trying to figure out what word you just used that now you guys aren't even talking about Orion. You're talking about your language.

Okay chapter 1 where Sage is being a flirty idiot in the tower instead of being like 'no wonder you have that reputation' you just mutter 'lustmolch' (someone who is sex-crazed, literal translation is 'pleasure newt') (affectionate) and he just kinda rolls with it because I think he gets called foreign cuss words a lot when he flirts with people so. Par for the course.

You could also call Sage a Schluckspecht (someone who hits the bottle too often, literal translation is 'guzzling woodpecker') but platonic and he'd agree.

You and Felix are just hanging out and being cute and Escell kinda scoffs and you look over at him and snap 'Stinkstiefel' (grouchy person, aka a 'smelly boot') (derogatory) and he's not really sure how to respond. Felix doesn't know what it means either but he's been around you enough to know it's an insult so he snickers.

You burst into the study where everyone is hanging out 'Vhat iss ze vort for... um... zat ein zingkt mitt ze kolors? Der kuchen?' "Come again, dear?" 'It iss a dessert. A, a pastry I zink? It iss ze ein you always haf fur parties.' "A pastry for parties?" 'Da.' "Cookies?" "Do cookies count as a pastry?" "Well they're from the bakery." "Not everything out of the bakery is a pastry." "What? That's the point of a bakery what are you talking about?" "There's different things. Some bakeries sell sandwiches." "Felix why in the seven hells would we be talking about sandwiches-" "It's a common bakery item!" "No it fucking isn't!" 'It's nicht a sentwich, it's-' "No a cookie is a pastry." "What?" "A cookie is a pastry. Sage is correct. For once." "For o- fuck you!" '... None uff you are beingkt helpful.'

You were trying to find the word 'cake' because it's Stella's birthday and you want to make her a little salmon cake but ultimately you just give her some smooches while the Starsworn continue arguing about whether a sandwich should count as a pastry or not because hey it has bread.

[frenchpuppycormier]

fluff 10 and/or 11 + supercorp for the sentence starters pls 💞

"Are we on a date right now?" / "I think I'm in love with you."

—

Saturday signals the best day in Kara's book for one simple reason: the farmers market. It's the perfect place to buy fresh produce directly from the grower at a lower price than those pesky retailers. Not to mention, it's fresher and it's a great way to support local communities.

Kara enjoys it most in the early morning between 8 and 9 when the California heat hasn't bombarded its citizens yet. One of her favorite memories of going to the market was when she first arrived on earth, and Eliza and Alex took her to the one in Midvale. Eliza bought her the sweetest miniature doughnuts which practically melted in her mouth. She's been a huge (understatement of the year) fan ever since.

The farmers market is located 20 blocks from her apartment, just a short jaunt or flight for the hero.

Today she decides to walk and enjoy the nice cool breeze, and the warm sun spilling on her face. She can already hear the acoustics of a folk band covering a Fleetwood Mac song at the end of main street. The leaves are starting to change, indicating the beginning of fall, and the ones already on the ground crunch beneath her feet.

Her reusable cloth bag with the words, "Okey Dokey Artichokey" and a cartoon artichoke with a smiley face and tiny stick arms, is slung over her shoulder. Lena had given it to her as a gag gift, but Kara uses it the most out of all her bags. Any gift from Lena is special and she will always treasure it.

As she rounds the corner to the market, she sneaks another look at her list to remind herself what she needs, when she bumps into someone. Hard. Fortunately, Kara manages to grab the other person's arm before they fall.

"Oh my gosh," Kara cringes. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was—" she interrupts herself when she sees, "Lena?"

"Hey there, slick," Lena laughs and nudges the hand latched on her arm to tangle with her fingers.

Kara responds by swinging their arms back and forth, like what friends do when they haven't seen each other in months. But Kara and Lena just saw each other yesterday. This is normal, right? Kara thinks. The fluttering in my chest is completely common whenever I see my friends....Right?

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Kara speaks before her brain can catch up with her.

Lena's face lights up with a sly grin. "Can't a woman go to the market every once in a while?"

"N-no no, of course you can," Kara laughs awkwardly, "I meant, gosh I'm not sure...I guess I just didn't expect to see you here. You live all the way on the other side of town."

"Relax, love," she chuckles and squeezes her hand and releases it, Kara immediately missing the warmth. "I'm teasing you. But to answer your question, I'm in desperate need of fresh kale, and I heard this particular stand has the best in the city."

Kara feigns gagging and Lena playfully shoves her shoulder. “I still don’t understand how you can eat that stuff.”

“Who knew the green stuff that incapacitates you was kale.”

“More like your eyes,” Kara mumbles.

“What was that?”

Kara’s eyes widen. “N-nothing,” she rubs the back of her neck. “Um, so….do you care if I join you? Wandering aimlessly through the market checking out food stands with my best friend sounds like the perfect way to spend my Saturday morning.”

“I’d love nothing more,” Lena replies, smiling brightly.

—

“Oooh, look! A food truck!” Kara points.

Lena laughs at her zeal. “Let’s see what they have.”

Kara reaches for her hand and twines their fingers together before dragging her toward the truck. Lena’s stomach swoops at the action, but she calms herself down enough so Kara doesn’t notice her rapid heartbeat. Not that she would, considering food is the best distraction when it comes to the blonde.

Little does Lena know that nothing can distract Kara from Lena, especially considering 98% of the time Kara is listening to the constant thumps and quivers of Lena’s heart, but Kara doesn’t say anything.

Kara looks up at the man in the truck and politely rattles off her order, then looks at Lena and asks, “What do you want?”

“Um,” Lena quickly glances at the menu and says, “I’ll have the Avo Smash, please.” She moves to hand the man cash, but Kara stops her and insists she'll pay for it. "My treat."

Once they give their order they move to the side and wait until their names are called.

When they get their food they move to a shady spot on the sidewalk and admire how delicious it looks.

“What’s that?” Kara asks.

“Oh, it’s a piece of toast with smashed avocado, egg, and tomato,” Lena replies, noticing how Kara turns up her nose. Lena rolls her eyes and gestures at her hands, “What’d you get?”

"Uh, only the most scrumptious and melt in your mouth-watering food you can get here," she replies, eyebrows pinched, incredulously. Lena raises her eyebrows in a get-on-with-it kind of way. "French toast bites," Kara finishes, exasperated at Lena's lack of enthusiasm.

"Sweet food for a sweet girl."

Kara's cheeks grow a slight pink. Instead of replying, she dips a piece of her toast in the syrup, and shoves the whole thing in her mouth. Lena simply hums and takes a bit of her own food. Kara smiles like a chipmunk with cheeks full of goodies.

When Lena's finished with her slice of hipster toast, as Kara calls it, a small body runs into her legs from behind. She looks down and finds a small boy with sandy blonde hair and big, blue eyes looking up at her with a toothy grin.

"Hi, there," she smiles at him.

"Henry!" a woman in a flowy maxi dress and brown sandals comes running toward them. She picks him up and gives him a stern look. "I told you not to run off like that!" The woman adjusts him on her hip and shyly realizes she has an audience. "I'm so sorry! He gets too excited about their french toast."

"Oh, no worries," Lena reassures her. She carefully grabs Kara's elbow and says, "This one does too."

Kara acts hurt by placing a hand over her heart. "Well, can you blame me? They're delicious! Aren't they?" she smiles at the boy and waves. He giggles and hides his face in his mother's neck. "Someone's a little shy, huh?"

"He is, isn't he?" the mom kisses his cheek. "I think he has a little crush on you."

"Who, me?" Kara laughs. "No, I think he has eyes for Lena. As most people do." She steps forward and tickles his stomach so he looks at her. Kara holds out her hand for a high five and whispers, "Good choice." He gratefully slaps her hand.

When Kara steps back, Lena is blushing, but rather than call her out on it she ignores it out of respect. Kara smiles at her and Lena smiles back, but then she's suddenly laughing through her nose.

"Darling, you have a little," she gestures at her own face.

"What? I have something on my face?" Kara touches her cheek, but completely misses.

"Here," Lena's fingers tenderly touch the side of her jaw while her thumb swipes her lip. Lena's completely focused on what she's doing, but Kara only has eyes for Lena.

Lena pulls back her hand, thumb now sticky with syrup. Instead of wiping it on the napkin Kara knows Lena has in her bag, she sticks it between her lips and licks it clean.

Kara completely stops breathing.

"How long have you two been together?" a voice snaps her out of her reverie.

Kara gapes at her with wide eyes and stutters, "Um...we, we're uh, just friends."

"Oh," the woman almost looks upset. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to presume. Well, I'll let you get back to your morning." She smiles at them and walks away, leaving a flabbergasted Kara and quiet Lena.

They don't say anything and choose to ignore it while they continue down the street.

—

"Lena, you have to try this," Kara doesn't give her a chance to respond before shoving a spoonful of gelato in Lena's mouth.

Lena gasps and nearly chokes on the ice cold dessert enveloping her tastebuds. She hisses and nods, as she lifts her hand to hastily catch the dribbles of melted chocolate trickling down her chin. Kara winces, "I'm so sorry!"

"No," Lena shakes her head as she swallows, "I just wasn't expecting that."

"Well? How was it?"

"Y'know, I'm not gonna lie...it was pretty fucking delicious."

"Right? Marco really knows his stuff."

"Um," Lena holds her hand out, fingers spread apart to prevent more sticking, and shakes it like she doesn't know what to do.

Kara jumps to action and runs off. She's back in two seconds with a wet wipe and cleans Lena's hand. "Where'd you find that?"

"Don't ask."

"Okay?" Lena laughs breathily. "You're a mystery wrapped inside an enigma, Ms. Danvers."

"I aim to confuse," she jokes.

Lena shakes her head, and eventually says, "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Kara smiles at her, their eyes locked onto each other. She's finished cleaning her hand, but rather than letting go, her hand stays curled around Lena's, not wanting to ruin the moment.

—

“Oh Rao, you didn’t,” Kara gasps.

Lena turns around and frowns at her. “What?” Kara gestures to Lena’s bag. Lena looks down and chuckles when she realizes what she’s talking about. “In my defense, I was drunk. You know how my shopping brain acts when I’m drunk; I buy things I don’t need.”

“Hmmm, well maybe your alcohol-addled brain just remembered how funny I thought it was and wanted to impress me,” Kara teases with a twitch of her eyebrow.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what happened,” Lena deadpans. She glanced at the words on her bag again and fondly shakes her head. It reads: Oh Kale Yeah, with a bunch of kale on both sides.

“I think so,” Kara steps closer and smiles.

“Oh, really?” Lena raises her eyebrows.

“Yep,” she ends with an extra pop of the ‘p’ and boops her on the nose.

Lena opens her mouth in surprise, a protest on the tip of her tongue, but a voice interrupts her from in front of them.

“You two are such a lovely couple,” the vendor gushes.

Lena and Kara startle, forgetting they’re standing right in front of a stand selling various vegetables and fruits and jars of honey. Behind the table is an older woman, most likely in her late 70s, with streaks of gray hair, crinkly eyes and facial lines as if she’s smiled her whole life.

“Oh, we’re not—”

“Thank you,” Kara answers, smiling bashfully. She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and says, “I’ll take one bunch of radishes and one spaghetti squash.”

“Coming right up,” the woman replies.

Kara glances over at Lena and gives her a shy smile, before handing the woman a $10 bill and thanking her. She grabs the veggies and carefully drops them in her bag.

“Thank you two, have a wonderful day.”

“Of course, you too!” Kara places her hand on the small of Lena’s back and guides her forward.

As they make their way to the next stand, Kara laughs, remembering their conversation, “I can’t believe you bought that bag. You’re such a giant dork.”

Lena whips around and eyes Kara curiously. Kara’s hand shifts from her back to loosely rest on her waist. Lena’s eyes are squinting from the bright sun, but Kara can see the speckles of gold in them and thinks she’s never looked more beautiful.

“Are we on a date right now?”

Kara's heart quickens and she opens and closes her mouth a few times, until finally she clears her throat, "Did you want it to be?"

"I thought—”

"Because I do," Kara states. "Want it to be a date. But only if you do, of course. I don't want you to feel pressured or like I forced you to hang out with me," she retracts her hand. "That's the last thing I—”

Lena grabs her hand as she pulls it way, not wanting Kara to close herself off. "Hey, I want this just as much as you do."

"Really?"

Lena lightly presses her thumb into the grooves of Kara's knuckles, and absentmindedly plays with them. She smiles, fully dimpled, and says, "I do. Actually, I uh..." she lowers their connected hands and looks off into the distance, mind seemingly elsewhere.

"What is it?" Kara asks. She playfully shakes their arms back and forth to get her attention.

Lena looks at the ground before completely focusing on Kara and those baby blues she's come to know and love. She takes a deep breath and her voice shakes when she whispers, "I think I'm in love with you..." Lena stumbles and shakes her head, "No—I am in love with you."

Kara inhales sharply and Lena thinks she's made a giant mistake. She starts to turn and do something stupid, like run away, but Kara keeps her hold on her and pulls her forward.

Smiling, Kara slowly inches closer leaving the opportunity for Lena to stop her. When Kara's lips press into hers she welcomes it completely. Kara's hands come up to cup Lena's jaw until she moves one to tangle in her hair.

Kara disconnects from her lips, but stays wrapped up in her, their foreheads touching. "I'm in love with you, too," she whispers against soft lips.

"Good," Lena smiles and kisses her again.

[khaleesiofalicante]

“Mom!” Alec hissed.

His mother didn’t turn back.

“Mooooom,” he called her again – and this time she turned back. “I want to go home."

“Alec, we just got here!” his mother said incredulously as they checked their coats into the coakroom.

The guy in the cloakroom gave Alec a token for their coats.

Jesus Fucking Christ. What kind of house has a cloakroom?

His mother was right. They had barely been here for 10 minutes. But Alec already wanted to leave.

“I’m feeling sick,” Alec said. “I should go back home.”

He coughed awkwardly. He was a decent liar.

“What’s wrong?” his mother looked momentarily concerned.

“Uh,” Alec said, not prepared at all. “I got my period.”

Yeah, so that ‘decent liar’ bit might have been an exaggeration.

“Alec,” his mother sighed. “You think I want to do this? This family is one of our largest donors to the university. As the dean, I have to be here. So do you.”

Alec groaned.

As the president of the queer alliance at Idris University, Alec knew he had to talk to people to get the funding they needed. But Alec hated people and he hated talking. He wished Lily or Maia were here instead.

“I know you have your own ways,” his mother said through her teeth as she smiled at one of the guests who was waving at her. “But you need their support. It’s how the game is played.”

“I hate playing the game,” Alec said through his teeth as he cheerily waved at one of the lecturers.

“You know the rules,” she turned to him and adjusted his bowtie. “Just smile and play nice.”

“But-”

“Be charming ,” she interrupted. “That's how fundraising works.”

Alec pouted and then gave her tight nod.

“Albert!” she shouted at one of the guests and made her way towards the old man.

Alec was about to let out a dramatic sigh when a waiter emerged from nowhere.

“Champagne, sir?”

“Thank you,” Alec picked up the flute. “Damn, this is heavy.”

“Crystal, sir,” the waiter pointed.

Alec’s hands suddenly felt very sweaty. He wiped them clumsily on his suit jacket and held the champagne flute carefully.

Another waiter emerged upon him, holding a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

“What’s that?” Alec pointed at the tray.

“Caviar, sir,” the waiter replied.

“Is that cinnamon?” Alec asked at the sprinkled dust on top of the caviar thingies.

If it was cinnamon, he could maybe eat it and have an instant allergic reaction.

Then maybe his mother would let him go home. He hoped.

“Not cinnamon, sir,” the waiter said as Alec took one and popped into his mouth. “It’s edible gold.”

“What?” Alec asked, his mouth full of caviar.

And gold apparently.

“It’s a caviar and crème fraîche tartlet,” the waiter announced in a surprisingly perfect French accent. “Topped with edible gold.”

“You are telling me this is gold?” Alec asked, chewing the food self-consciously. “I’m eating actual gold?”

“Uh, yes sir,” the waiter said awkwardly.

“But why?” Alec demanded, chewing his food angrily now. “Does it improve the taste?”

“No, sir,” the waiter looked embarrassed. “It’s…pretty.”

Alec looked around in disbelief as the waiter made his escape.

Here he was trying to find a couple of thousand dollars to raise funds for his alliance and these people were sprinkling gold on their food for aesthetic.

“Fuck the rich,” Alec muttered.

“Pardon?” someone said from behind him.

Ah, shit! Alec really hoped it was not one of the professors at the university – or worse, one of the donors.

But when he turned around, it was neither.

It was in fact the most beautiful man Alec had ever seen.

“Uh,” Alec said eloquently.

“You were saying something about fucking the rich,” the man smiled. “If it’s a cult, I’m very much interested.”

“Not a cult,” Alec clarified – when he managed to find his voice. Jesus! “Just a personal motto of mine.”

“Very interesting motto you have there…”

“Alec,” he finished. “Alexander.”

Why did he say his full name? He never did that. Alec could be such a weirdo in front of gorgeous men.

“Nice to meet you, Alexander,” the other man said, and Alec’s momentary regret vanished instantly.

He suddenly loved his name. Maybe a little too much.

“I’m Magnus,” the man held out a hand and Alec shook it – and hoped his palm wasn’t as sweaty as before. “Are you here to donate?”

“Pfft,” Alec couldn’t help but snort. “Right. Cause these people need more money.”

“Don’t roll your eyes at charity, Alexander,” Magnus chided. “It’s not very gentlemanly of you.”

“What’s this charity for anyway?” Alec asked, because he hadn’t even bothered to ask his mom and spent the whole drive here complaining about the university budget allocations instead.

“The rowing club,” Magnus replied.

“The rowing club?” Alec demanded angrily.

They were a bunch of elite dude bros and were the last people that needed charity.

“They are hoping to purchase new equipment,” Magnus pointed out.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Alec complained. “They don’t even need a fundraiser. They can afford that shit in so many other ways. Like ask them sell one of their Rolexes or Lamborghinis. Charity is for people who don’t have alternatives.”

Magnus blinked and Alec realized he had lost his cool a little.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “It’s just…it isn’t fair.”

“The rowing club boys are right there,” Magnus whispered as he pointed at the buffet. “They might hear you and think you are jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Alec replied. “I’m outraged that we live in a society that prioritizes the needs of the marginalized over the wants of the privileged.”

Usually this was the point when the other person would give him an awkward smile and escaped immediately from Alec’s boring rants.

But Magnus didn’t look awkward or bored. In fact, his lips curved a little as he gestured Alec to one of the banquet tables.

“Tell me more,” Magnus said as he sat down.

Alec wasn’t really sure what to say. He wasn’t used to reaching this stage of the conversation.

“Fancy new rowing equipment is a want. They can live without their latest gadget and just make do with the equipment they have,” Alec elaborated. “But the safety of queer youth in our university is definitely a need. It’s not something they should have to compromise.”

“The safety of the queer youth?” Magnus frowned. “How are they at risk?”

“There has been increased reporting of cyber bullying by queer students at the university,” Alec sighed. “Our existing reporting mechanisms don’t work.”

“Well, they could complain to HR and-”

“Magnus, when has HR got anything done?” Alec asked.

Magnus frowned again.

“Our data shows that over 60% of the victims of cyber bullying at the university are not only queer, but also people of colour,” Alec elabored. “So, these attacks are racially motivated too.”

“Why isn’t the university doing anything about it?” Magnus demanded, now sounding angry too. “The dean-”

“She is doing the best she can,” Alec intervened – because he knew that to be true. “We have a zero tolerance policy and that works at campus. But on social media..Well, that’s a whole other thing, isn’t it? You can’t really control what other people say or do.”

Magnus frowned again.

Alec realized that he liked it better when the other man smiled. Maybe he was as boring and depressing as everyone said.

“So, what do we do?” Magnus asked.

“We?” Alec blinked.

“I’m a student at the university too,” Magnus said. “Well, I just transferred from London. But still. As a bisexual man and a person of color, I need to be a part of this.”

Alec was beyond happy that someone understood the importance of his cause. It was hard enough to find people who supported the alliance.

But instead of thanking Magnus for his support, Alec’s mouth said “You’re bisexual?”

“And part-Indonesian,” Magnus replied. “So, what do we do, Alexander?”

Alec blinked. “Well, uh, the alliance has been trying to create an app that provides counseling support for queer youth who face bullying online. We can’t really completely get rid of the bullying. That might never happen. But the least we can do is give support for the victims, right?”

Magnus smiled. And yeah, Alec definitely liked it better.

“That’s an excellent idea,” Magnus said.

“Well, it’s just an idea,” Alec shrugged. “We still need to find the funding.”

“Well, why haven’t you?” Magnus asked.

“Because the donors obviously have other priorities,” Alec rolled his eyes, gesturing at the party.

“Oh,” Magnus said.

“But I think if we steal a plate of those caviar thingies, we might be able to scrap off the gold dust and gather a few hundred dollars,” Alec joked.

But Magnus didn’t laugh. Instead he leaped off his chair, ran towards the stage and grabbed the mic.

First of all, why was there a stage? Second of all, what was Magnus doing?

Third of all, who was he? Was he performer for the fundraiser or something?

He did have a really nice voice, Alec noted to himself. Among other nice things.

“Excuse me, everyone!” Magnus called into the mic and everyone turned their attention to him. “I’m Magnus Bane. My father and I are absolutely thrilled to have you at our home this evening.”

Alec, who was sipping on his champagne, most certainly did not choke at that. This was…Magnus’ home?

He was the biggest donor to the university? Or his father was…But whatever.

Alec’s ‘fuck the rich’ motto seemed a little too ironic - maybe even appropriate - right now.

“As the captain of the rowing team,” Magnus said, and Alec did not choke again. “I’ve just heard word from my brothers that there has been a change of plans.”

The rowing club, still standing by the buffet and hogging all the food, looked very confused.

“The rowing club has officially decided to throw a car wash at the university,” Magnus announced and the crowd started whispering around.

“Dude, isn’t that what chicks do?” one of the dude bros laughed.

“Exactly, Chad!” Magnus yelled. “We will be raising money and dismantling the patriarchy at the same time. It’s a win-win!”

A loud cheer went through the room but some people still looked confused.

“But what about the fundraiser?” a woman who was wearing too many pearly necklaces asked. “Are we not making donations today?”

“Yes, we are Mrs. Morgenstern,” Magnus winked at her. “But all donations from today’s event will go the queer alliance of the Idris University. They are raising money to fund an app to provide psychosocial support to victims of cyber bullying.”

Alec noticed his mother turn to look at him in disbelief. Alec shrugged helplessly.

“Is it really necessary though?” an old man from one of the tables asked and Alec had half a mind to dump his champagne on the man’s head. “Can’t they just have one of those support groups where they sit in a circle and talk to each other?”

“They are victims of targeted harassment, Mr. Starkweather,” Magnus replied politely. “They need support that is consistent, reliable and professional. It seems rather unfair to ask victims to support themselves instead of providing them with the required resources.”

“But aren’t they asking for too much?” a blonde woman asked.

“The app will ensure their safety and mental health. They are asking for the bare minimum,” Magnus answered, and Alec noticed the flash of anger in his eyes.

“But if the problem is cyber bullying,” another man in a suit demanded. “Why can’t we just ask them to stay off the internet?”

“Because that would be homophobic,” Magnus said through gritted teeth - but still smiling. Alec knew that look. “The queer students are not the problem. The internet is not at fault either. It’s people and their privilege. It’s people and their inability to treat others with respect – online and offline. These are students. We can’t restrict their access to the internet. For many queer youth, the internet is the only place that is safe enough to express themselves without fear or judgment. So, instead of asking them to stay off the internet, maybe we should consider asking the bullies and homophobes to practice basic human decency.”

“Damn, son!” someone whistled impressively.

Alec knew that whistle. He was going to hug the hell out of his mother later.

There was a moment of silence in the room, then a man approached the stage and pulled Magnus into a hug.

“What an excellent idea, Magnus!” the man who looked very much like Magnus beamed.

“It’s not my idea,” Magnus said. “All the credit goes to the alliance.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet this alliance!” Mr. Bane nodded in approval. “Ladies and Gentlemen! What a fine cause! What an important change in action! Allow me to be the first to support these brave and inspiring group of young people.”

“Thank you, Bapa!” Magnus smiled sweetly. “It’s so wonderful to see you supporting this cause. This is going to go viral on the internet.”

The moment Magnus said the words viral and internet, multiple guests got off their seats and started heading towards the donations table.

“He knows how to play the game,” Alec's mother said as she walked up to him. “He would make a fine addition to your alliance, Alec. You should ask him to join.”

“I will. He is bisexual,” Alec replied.

“He is also very handsome,” his mother pointed out innocently.

“Don't even!” Alec pointed a finger at her as she chuckled and joined the crowd.

By the end of the night, the fundraiser had gatherd thrice the amount the alliance needed to create the app.

“So…” he said as he approached Magnus. “I wanted to say thank you.”

“I was wondering maybe you could say it on Saturday,” Magnus suggested.

“Saturday?” Alec raised an eyebrow.

“The car wash, Alexander!” Magnus pouted. “I was here for your fundraiser. It’s only fair that you come for mine.”

“Well, that depends,” Alec said. “Will you be wearing a bikini?”

“Nah,” Magnus chuckled. “I was hoping to go shirtless.”

“In that case, you’ll definitely see me there,” Alec said seriously.

He didn’t even have a car. But he could always egg Jace’s car and take it.

“You want to get out of here?” Magnus asked, pointing at the crowd.

“Uh, isn’t this like your party or something?” Alec asked. “Shouldn’t you be here to entertain the guests?”

Magnus looked around and shrugged. “Fuck the rich.”

Alec couldn’t help but grin at that. He took Magnus’ hand as they ran towards the garden.

Fuck the rich indeed.

- For @radisv​ for being amazing. Always. Happy Birthday. ILY!

[gardenofadonis]

Some musings on the 'Come to Me'/'On My Own' leitmotif in the Les Mis musical

So, after a couple of years, I have fallen back in love with the Les Mis musical again. I'm not sure how many people are aware of this, but the music of 'On my own' in the 1980 French concept album was Fantine's first solo aria (L'Air de la misère), which sent me down the spiral of analysing the significance of the melody in the context of the musical as a whole.

Definition (from Wikipedia): 'A leitmotif is a "short, recurring musical phrase" associated with a particular person, place, or idea. It is closely related to the concept of idée fixe or motto-theme'. Now, I know whether the recurring melody is 'short' is debatable, so I'm using this concept loosely for the lack of a more accurate word (thought about using 'theme' but it may get confusing since it also applies to non-musical material). So apologies but please bear with me.

Now, I know, the songwriters may just be lazy so they gave Fantine's song to Eponine, since Fantine also had 'I dreamed a dream' in that album as well, which is 'J'avais rêvé d'une autre vie' (this takes place after she sells her hair), but Eponine also had 'L'un vers autre' (which basically talks about how Marius and Cosette are made for one another and she has no place in that story), so it wasn't like they needed an Eponine aria per se. And also, Eponine joins Fantine to sing at the Finale of the English version of the show (take my hand... take my love, etc.) to Valjean, which I would like to think is a conscious choice made by the creators rather than 'oh she's the other dead female character with a name so let's stick her in', which, may well be the case. But I am a woman of over-analysis, so this is your warning to quit reading if you don't appreciate over-analysis.

First, some context: in the 1980 concept album, 'L'air de la misère' is the second track, coming after what is the equivalent of 'At the end of the day', where Fantine gets fired from Valjean's factory. The lyrics basically talk about her disillusionment and ponders about the nature of misery. The melody returns in Fantine's death (as it does in the musical) and the Épilogue titled 'La Lumière' (which ends in a Valjean solo about light and love).

Why is this relevant? Because in the concept album, the 'la misère' melody comes from Fantine's aria and is thus a leitmotif that represents human misery (Les Misérables - anyone?), hence its reappearance in her death makes sense, and Valjean's reprise at the end highlights the concept of light (hope, love, justice, future, etc.) by turning the leitmotif around and giving it a new meaning. In other words, the melody in the context of the music isn't a one-off, but a recurring musical theme loaded with significance.

Which is why giving the melody to Eponine with new words is puzzling. In the musical, we hear the melody first in Fantine's death (a duet), then in Eponine's aria (in Act 2), and then in the Finale/Valjean's Death. So, from a musical perspective, 'On My Own' is a reprise of Fantine's Death. Those two never interacted on-stage, and the characters' history off-stage and their significances, on the first glance, seems minimal. So why do they share a same leitmotif?

Let's draw some parallels between Eponine & Fantine:

They both had a decent childhood & fell into poverty

They have both worked illegal & despised jobs (thief & sex worker)

They both love men who don't love them back

They have both experienced Valjean's kindness (Fantine much more than Eponine but still stands)

Acts of self-sacrifice for others

They both die young

Furthermore, let us not forget that Valjean also sings a handful of words in this melody in the Finale, so we may add Valjean to the mix. He was a thief and an outlaw on the run, he has been poor, was deeply indebt to the Bishop's kindness, has sacrificed himself on multiple occasions for others (stole for her sister's child, ousted himself for an innocent suspect, took in Cosette, etc.), and also dies (not young).

So it is not unreasonable to say that the 'la misère'/'on my own' leitmotif belongs to Fantine, Eponine, and Valjean. All three people have been screwed by life royally but still have noble hearts that love people unconditionally and without limitations (including dying for them). In 'Fantine's Death', the leitmotif expresses Fantine's parental love towards Cosette (which she passed to Valjean); in 'On My Own', Eponine expresses her unrequited romantic love; and in the Finale, it is Valjean's parental love for Cosette & Marius by extension, and he also teaches love to the young couple.

So, what are the conclusions from all this?

1) The use of the leitmotif as a basis of Eponine's aria foreshadows her death (since the melody is associated with Fantine's death)

2) The use of the leitmotif for 'On my own' draws parallel between Fantine's love for her child and Eponine's love for Marius, which goes as far as them willing to give their lives for them

3) Fantine & Eponine are both symbols/embodiments of human suffering, & the parallel between the characters were something the creators were aware of

4) The leitmotif also highlights the 'letting go' aspect of love & the characters involved. Fantine left her child with the Thénadiers and later Valjean because she knows her life would be better away from her; Eponine chose to help Marius with his pursuit of Cosette because she wants him happy; and Valjean went to the barricade, saved Marius' life, and later left Cosette because she wants the best life for Cosette

5) The leitmotif implies that Fantine, Eponine, and Valjean are the 3 who understand love the deepest - they were hurt by it but still loved regardless

6) In the Finale, Eponine is the most qualified to sing alongside Fantine (& later Valjean) because they were the only lead roles in the story who go to heaven because they 'redeemed' themselves (from their crimes & sins) through human love. In a way, Eponine & Fantine's stories parallel that of Valjean: a criminal (regardless of intention) with a heart of gold transcends their identity because of their love

Anyway. Do I LOVE that they recycled the aria to appear after what was originally the reprise (Fantine's Death)? Hell no. It is my opinion that if Eponine only gets 1 aria she should have something musically 'new' and individualistic. So to me, changing the aria to 'on my own' for Eponine & sticking it to the 2nd act while still using the same music for Fantine & Valjean's deaths is still somewhat lazy editing/writing. It is still jarring and I would never stop wondering 'why tf am I hearing Fantine's Death?' in Eponine's Act 2 solo, but I can now somewhat rationalise it.

BTW the 1980 French concept album is awesome and you should definitely check it out (chug the lyrics into a translator if you don't know French - they're marvelous and often make reference to the novel)

[fangirlings-things]

First Costumer

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x female reader

Summary: you just got hired to do the job you always wanted and your first costumer, is no other but a Peaky Blinder

Word count: 2.1K

This is based on the moodboard below, made by my friend. You can find the original post here

A/N: I wrote this for @flowers-in-your-hayr 650 followers celebration. congratulations, love!! you're amazing, thank you for understanding my brazilian jokes lol and I hope you like this 💖

TAG LIST: @sophieshelby ; @charmingvalkyrie ; @inglourious-imagines ; @fairyofvoid ; @locke-writes ; @regalbanshee ; @captainshazamerica ; @lotsoffandomrecs ; @flowers-in-your-hayr ; @too-spoopy-to-be-frukd

You heard the doorbell ring and the sound filled the bookshop. Finally, a costumer. Your very first costumer. How exciting! 

You got down of the ladder you had previously climbed to fix some of the higher shelves and passed your hands through your brown simple dress, making sure it was proper and in order. Mr. Cuthbert had taken a long time to finally accept you as an employee in his establishment and now, you had to make him proud. 

You had always loved books. Since you were just a little girl, you mother had given you novels to read and you grew up living in many different ones from the reality you actually found yourself in. Books were your passion, your refugee, your ideal spot. To be able to work around them and make people happy by buying books, well, it sounded like perfection! 

The costumer took his time to walk through the shop, eyeing the shelves like they were unusual strangers in the street and then, he got to you at the back of the bookshop. Your first costumer was a man. 

He was tall. Not too tall, but just enoguh to make him able to look at some of the upward shelves without having to raise his head too much. His skin was white, giving a nice contrast with the black coat he wore. He had a moustache and you could only see a few strings of his brown hair, due to the cap he wore.

Then, you realized. After taking notice of the cap, the fine clothing made sense. No ordinary man in Birmingham had such fine clothes to wear, especially not in the middle of the week, during the lunch break time of the factories. Oh no, that man absolutely did not work in a factory. That man was a Peaky Blinder. His only bosses were the Shelbys and the Shelbys only. 

"May I help you, sir?" you asked him with a polite smile, pushing to the back of your mind the realization you had just come to. It didn't matter who he was outside Mr. Cuthbert's bookshop. He was a costumer. Who clearly, for the way his eyes were going from one shelf to the other, intended to buy a book. 

He focused his eyes on you and you saw that his stare wasn't harsh or the one of a demon, as many people said the Peaky Blinders were. His eyes were kind, even though there was an agitation in them that you couldn't quite comprehend. Maybe not even he could. "Yes" he said simply and as you kept staring at him, waiting for further information, the man looked even a bit disconcerted, like he wasn't used to having such attention upon him. "It is my sister's birthday this week and Ada, well, she really likes books, has a great shelf of them at her house. So I thought it would be a good idea to you know, give her a new book as a gift"  

You couldn't help but smile. That man, whomever he was, seemed so genuine in everything. You could see the care in his expression when he spoke of his sister. It was a nice thing to see. The stories you had heard about the Peaky Blinders seemed to be all wrong. He was a normal person. Not some crazy, openly violent man. 

"Do you have any specific book in mind?" you asked him, hands joined in front of your body and excitement filling your body because that was apparently going to be a successful sell. The man just squeezed his lips on a thin line, eyes going to the floor  as if he was embarrassed. It got to you. "Don't worry, I am sure we can work something out. What kind of books does she like?" 

He watched as you moved around the place graciously. Clearly you knew every corner of that place, every shelf, every single book and where it was. You looked at a particular spot, frowned then moved on like there wasn't anything interesting for whatever you wanted him to take to Ada. "Well, she's a communist, so she does like politics" 

"Very well" you walked towards the politics shelf, searched the titles, but nothing particularly got your attention or seemed fitting. You turned back to the man. "Does she like classics that have to do with politics?" 

"I think so, what do you have?" he asked, seeming kinda excited for what you would come up with. He accompanied you as you went to shelf on the other side of the corridor and pulled out a book. "Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo. It's centered around the French Revolution" 

The man looked down at the floor again as a quite nervous laugh escaped his mouth. "I don't think that is a good idea. France does not give my family the best memories, you see" 

"You fought the war?" you asked, smile fading a bit because of the seriousness in his tone. Maybe that's where his agitation was from. Maybe, he never did get back from France at all. He only nodded in agreement, still not looking at you. "Thank you, for your service" 

He gave out a little smile, but you knew by the way the corner of his lips didn't rise too much that he was anxious to change the subject. Honestly, see the obvious hurt in him made you want to change it either. "Alright, no France. What about Bram Stoker's Dracula?" 

"Dracula?" he frowned, eyes meeting yours in utter confusion at such a strange name. 

The fact that he didn't knew about it made you smile as you began to describe que novel's story to him with a mysterious tone in your voice to cause suspense. "It's about an old man, Count Dracula, who lives in a castle and feeds on the blood of young women to survive. Sometimes he kills them so they can join him in the after life and also drink blood from innocent people" 

The man laughed due to your clearly forced misteirous tone and the way you raised your eyebrows at him while speaking, seeming to forget the previous sadness that had overwhelmed him with the memories of the war. You were glad for it. "That sounds bloody awful, love" 

You could not help but also laugh, trying to ignore the heat that took a hold of your face when he apparently without thinking, called you love. "It is, actually" then you shrugged, passing your hand through the said novel's cover at the shelf. "But is a fine horror book" you crossed your arms over your chest and squeezed your eyes in his direction. "Be honest with me now, will your sister like this one?" 

He squeezed his lips again, this time his features assumed a expression that clearly said 'sorry'. "I don't think so. Ada is a feminist. I think she would not like a story where a monster man kills women and faces no consequences" 

"That is a very good point" you said with a sight and then turned around, biting your lower lip as you thought and thought about more options. The challenge on your very first sell was being quite exciting and you could say, interesting. Much of it of course, was because of that man. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head and you turned back to the Peaky Blinder with a smile. "What about On the Origin of Species? It's a book about pure knowledge, scientific one, about evolution. No France, no monster that slaughters women" 

The man gave it a minute of thought and then returned your smile. "Knowledge and evolution. It does sounds like Ada" you both felt silent for a moment and then, he cleaned his throat and nodded towards the book you had just gotten into your hands. "I'll take it" 

"Very well" you motioned for him to follow you and then made your way towards the back of the shop again, placing it in the cashier. "You want it wrapped up as a gift?" he quickly agreed and you raised two options of gift wrap in the air. A green and a blue one. He chose the green one. "You can also add a small card if you want" 

"That is nice, thank you" he said and again, as you looked at him, the kindness in his eyes seemed to shine out from everything else. 

You grabbed a gift card from the inside of a box where they were kept and placed a black pen upon it. "You can write it or if you want, I can write it for you" 

"You should write it, I bet your handwriting is better than mine" he said and you chuckled, nodding as you agreed to his request. 

"What do you want it to say?" you waited as he clearly thought about the question, looking unsure. With one of his hands, he took off his cap and then passed the other one through his hair. When he claned his throat, you were ready to start writing. 

"Dear Ada, happy birthday" he looked at you as if that was it but then, seeing the expression on your face that clearly indicated you wished him to talk more, he thought for a second and then continued. " Since you like books so much, I hope you will like this one, that a very nice girl helped me pick" as you wrote with a smile on your face, you did your best not to raise your eyes to meet his. "I know I am not always a very good brother, but I love you. Happy birthday, Arthur" 

"That was beautiful" you told him, letting go of the pen and starting to wrap up the gift carefully, slowly, in no rush to let the Peaky Blinder go away. Arthur. His name was Arthur. It was a beautiful name. Suited him just fine. 

"Alright, then" his eyes went to the floor again, seeming now embarrassed because of your words. 

You finished to wrap the gift in silence, then when it was done, you sighted and looked at the man. "If you want us to deliver the gift at your sister's house, in case you're busy, we have a delivery boy for such" 

"That sounds good, I appreciate that" he replied. 

You nodded in agreement and got a piece of paper, to then grab the pen again. "Can you tell me her adress, please?" he did so, and you wrote it down so the boy Mr. Cuthbert had hired a little while before you could do his part of the job later. "He is supposed to look for Ada...?" you left the question in the air, waiting for him to answer, eyes still on the paper. 

"Ada Shelby" 

Your eyes snapped up on the very same instant. 

Shelby. 

His sister was Ada Shelby. 

He was Arthur Shelby. 

"Something wrong, love?" he asked, and he didn't seem harsh like you expected him to, for the way you not in the slightly hid just how astonished you were to know his identity. His eyes were still kind, but a part of the previous sadness had come back. 

"I'm sorry, that was rude of me" you wrote down Ada Shelby and then left the paper upon the gift, at the corner of the cashier. 

"I'm used to that kind of reaction by now" he said with a nervous laugh, that carried absolutely no humor at all in it. Even if he was indeed used to the said kind of reaction, he clearly did not like it. You felt guilt consume you. "How much do I owe you?" 

You told him the price, still lost in your thoughts and cursing yourself for being so stupid and rude. So rude. He gave you the money, you placed it in the due place. "Have a nice day" he told you and then turned around to leave, placing his cap back in his head and then his hands went to the pockets of his clothes. 

You watched him leaving with a intense feeling of exasperation, tried to think fastly enough to say something and then before you could even really process what you were actually going to do, the words left your mouth. "Mr. Shelby?" he turned back around as he heard you calling, a bit of gentleness in his features. "If you ever need to buy another book, I am sure I can help you find something good" 

His lips curled up in a smile, a pure one. A bit of the guilt you felt left your body like he had just taken it completely away, just by smiling again. "I'll remember that, love" 

And then, Arthur Shelby left the bookshop.

[emtornado]

Miraculous but make it Squid Games

Inspired by https://www.instagram.com/p/CUm02T7BCGr/?utm_medium=copy_link

Do I know why I keep making Miraculous posts? Nope. But here we go with another one~

(Also this takes place in Korea cuz I don't know any French children's games and didn't wanna complicate my own life so just roll with it)

Let’s introduce our characters first.

Marinette Dupain Cheng— A French student studying fashion in Korea who has lost all her money and is in severe debt.

Adrien Agreste— Marinette’s friend from France, and a former model who left his father and his company behind to travel the world ending up in Korea where he gets a very interesting offer.

So let’s start with the fact that there are obviously no miraculouses here. Both were two normal students who used to be friends but drifted apart, not even knowing that the other was in the same country, years later.

Marinette, who used to study in Sungkyunkwan University, is completely broke and the only reason she could afford school is because of her parents. Now, with a degree and no jobs (Korea is hard to foreigners, and even after years, that’s what she is to everyone), she's lost all motivation in life. Her sketchbooks, once full of life, now lie empty.

At her lowest moment, Marinette sits at a subway and contemplates what to do with life when a dude comes and offers her money, and all she has to do is play a Korean game. Ending with a stinging cheek and 40,000 won in her hands, the man offers her a card and tells her to think. She gets a lot of money, and all she has to do is play some games.

On the other side, we have Adrien. Adrien, who is more like Chat— confident, witty and VERY flirty. He left his father’s house when he was 18 and has been travelling ever since. He and Nino went to the states, travelled Europe by car, went to India (cuz yes) and currently makes a stop in Korea, where he is approached by a man. This man asks them if they’re up for a job, where they gets a decent amount of money and all he has to do is follow the rules and keep his mouth shut.

Adrien has experienced many things in his life so far, and his money supply is depleting. Thinking of this as some drug shit, he agrees and signs the contract (fucking idiot. After staying with his father and being a model for so long he should’ve known to at least read things properly smh). Seeing him, Nino does too.

Fast forward to the very first game. Adrien has been training for almost a month now and has a little idea of what he’s working for here.

He knows not to ask any questions, to only take the head mask off when he’s in his room and do whatever the man in the black mask tells him to.

He doesn’t ask a single question cuz he’s seen what happens to those who do. What happened to Nino, as his best friend’s brains splattered all across his mask. (sorry, but like. People had to die.)

When the participants play their first game, he doesn’t even flinch at the absolute massacre happening on his screen. He thinks about how nothing can faze him anymore when he catches sight of two pigtails on the screen. Two pigtails that look almost blue under the sun’s glare.

And that is when his stomach DROPS.

Let's yeet back to Marinette. Our sis is dying inside but she WILL NOT die outside. She came here for the money and now she has a greater motivation to survive— her life.

She is the last person in the game— number 467, and all that goes on in her head as three people beside her are shot due to the creepy doll’s eyes is the fact that she will remain the last one standing. It’s not about the money anymore, it’s about survival.

After the first game, when given the option, she presses her hand on the cross without a second’s hesitation.

As she makes her way home, she is relieved, that the torture is over.

And then she meets Adrien.

Back to Adrien. When all the participants head back, he uses two of his precious leave days from this fucked up organisation to track Marinette and meet her. When they do, they fucking collide cuz he saw her almost die and she almost died. They have reason to cling onto one another shush.

And then Adrien tells her. He tells her everything. He tells her what is happening, how many people have died, how Nino had died, and how he needs her help to shut all this down.

Marinette runs away. She doesn’t wanna be there. And then she starts looking at all the chats and pictures of her and Nino. How he was one of her very first friends. And so she goes back to the same cafe and meets Adrien again.

They make a plan. They will make sure she survives, for which she will need allies in the game (not outside the games, cuz she will always have him there).

And so armed with knowledge, Marinette goes back into the game and meets a naïve Korean man who teams up with everyone, a bitch who will survive somehow (and will kill anyone to do so— yes I mean Lila) and a young man who seems so fucking familiar.

And so the games go on and Marinette keeps surviving. And as that happens, she starts to spend her nights in a secluded area with Adrien, where they talk, they reminisce and they find a reason to live in each other.

And then the marble game happens. She partners with the boy, Luka, who turns out to be another face from back home. She partners with him because she trusts him and she is afraid nobody else will partner with him because of the growing bloody wound on his head courtesy of the thugs trying to kill him.

Adrien is the guard assigned to her and Luka, and he watches as Luka slowly and steadily grows more and more out of it and Marinette starts full-on sobbing. Right when the time is about to end, Luka gives his marbles to Marinette and begs her to survive this game and live, and go back to Paris and tell Juleka about all this, as his final goodbye. He looks her in the eyes with a smile until the very last second when Adrien shoots him.

That night, the VIPs arrive and both Mari and Adrien know that they need to move on with their plan, but they spend the whole night by diving tanks they know won’t be used anymore, cuz the Black Mask Man made an example out of everyone who tried to betray him. Marinette is curled into Adrien and in the silence, she vows to end them. That morning (night?) when they are sneaking back, they come into contact with one of the black-masked dudes who would serve the VIPs and Adrien knocks him out and switches outfits.

He kisses Marinette before making his way to the VIP chamber.

Imagine his surprise when after almost half a decade he hears his father’s voice behind the mask of a man wearing an elaborate gold butterfly headset.

He watches in rapt attention as Marinette thankfully chooses number 15, with Lila right in front of her. Now we don’t like Lila (here specifically) because after Tug of War she started to turn people against Marinette, because of whose strategy their team won the game. Marinette was almost killed by many of the thugs in the nighttime because of Lila, and when there’s 30 seconds left and one step left to be determined, Marinette pushes Lila off one and scores victory for her and number 16, Alya Cesaire. (Who is in Korea for journalism internships or some shit and got roped into this because of lack of money, and became Marinette’s greatest ally)

They both know that one of them will die at the end, and so Marinette tells Alya of hers and Adrien’s plan to end this thing once and for all, and so they go and play the final Squid Game, where at the end, Alya very convincingly stabs herself, making Marinette the winner.

On the other side of the glass, Adrien, who has gotten the interest of a disgusting old VIP, puts an idea into his head about how the VIPs should really go and really be in the scene and see what has happened, and that old man, fascinated by the idea of being in the zone, convinces his 'friends' that they should go.

And so they all go, surrounding a blood-soaked and sobbing Marinette and start laughing and congratulating her. (cue Gabriel recognising her and being condescending as fuck. Imagine dialogues like "you had so much potential and now are just reduced to this", which cements the fact that he really is Gabriel Agreste).

That is when Adrien, who was escorting them along with the Black Mask, pulls his gun on them, Alya pulls the knife “out” of her and takes the old fat man who liked Adrien hostage and Marinette pulls out her own knife to Gabriel.

They try to make a deal, and when Gabriel almost gets the better of them (cue seggsy fight scene which I don’t have the words to describe rn) Marinette stabs him in the neck.

After threatening the VIPs and getting all of their identities, as well as the black mask dude’s identity, they go to the nearest police station and give all of their gathered evidence.

Due to the physical and psychological trauma and torture faced by Alya and Marinette, as well as part of a settlement plea from the VIPs, they both get all the money.

The two girls plus Adrien fly out to France and reconcile with their families. Adrien and Marinette visit Nino’s family, Juleka and Rose and as many of the people as they can.

The two of them get a small apartment together, unlike the huge mansion that Adrien was left after Gabriel’s death (which he sells and uses the money to be given to all the victim's families)

He also becomes the owner of Gabriel, and with Marinette turns it over into a completely different company (cuz Gabriel was one corrupt bastard)

And so they live happily with weekly therapy sessions and a traumatic, but happy ending.

Gods I need help, I wrote almost 2000 words for this lol. Maybe I'll write this properly someday hahaha.

[thetaoofbetty]

anon, you weren't wrong about it being long so i put it under the cut:

Don’t mind me this is super long… but I needed to say this to someone and I like what you have to say…. Anyways…..The morning after the episode comes out is the greatest. I grab my coffee and start my daily stroll on Twitter.—i was going to offer to switch with you since i woke up with a 16lb french bulldog puppy on my face but then i got to the twitter part and nah, i'll keep the puppy alarm clock.

It makes my day really, reading all these bad takes about the show… not the show but about ships… Im starting to wonder about the ba’s mental well being. 1) making Toni’s baby about them 🧐— also, god love them, but they know that evan co-wrote this right? like, of course they stood next to each other, if it was anyone else writing, would that have even happened?

2) deciding that last scene was foreshadowing a b/archie baby and that look was them wanting to be parents. Oh okay. You keep telling yourselves that 🥸—because betty smiled at the baby outside of pop's or when they smiled at each other? perhaps betty likes babies? she seemed pretty happy when they announced the whole thing in 5x08. listen, i don't have a problem with them headcanoning that, it's that they come to me like i need to expect it to happen.

i have smiled at total strangers when a baby does something cute in a grocery store line, it's really not that special. headlines around the world gonna have to be like: "in shocking news, woman of child-bearing age smiled at adorable baby, what could it mean!?"

do they want a paternity thing between her, archie, and glen? i'd be like okay so my girl was on her birth control, right?

3) b/archie begins their true love romance after bughead has their “friendship talk” (their words not mine) and Veronica tells Archie she doesn’t want him in more and she’s meant for Reggie there’s a few that want her single so she can work on her self (again their words) but again if that’s the case if anyone is single it should be Betty. She has the most she needs to work on but whatever, they are convinced their logic is sound😅—ahh, the good ol' friendship talk. they do know that if the show wanted them to have closure and be moved on from each other, nothing they did for 5x10, 5x11, 5x14, or the upcoming talk was necessary, right? you can't say they need all that backstory for closure when varchie is right there, doing none of that.

i know when i'm reading or watching something, i always want some big emotional moments for the couple with massive amounts of history who have told each other multiple times that they would always love the other so that they can...be friends.

4) they believe we want Betty to beg the person she cheated on to take her back (not even close to what we want)—listen, i say this with affection, but some people in this fandom ain't gonna make it with other tv shows if a kiss and weird bunker hand holding scene is unforgivable (because yes, some people do want her to beg. which is weird and definitely not at all projecting, i'm sure but i avoid people like that as much as possible) as a cheating arc.

which is actually probably why some of the b/as are mad tbh. cheating as a plot device is either used because the pairing is "meant to be" (leyton maybe?) or it's for angst and drama (when haley kissed chris keller while with nathan. sorry, my exchange student started binging one tree hill so they're my examples today). they really didn't want it to be for angst and drama. especially contrasted with the scenes in 5x14 where they're being shown with other people but prioritizing each other.

but also, it doesn't matter what they think we want, they're also the ones who are now trying to sell the "jughead is still in love with betty and she hates him" story because if there's one thing that makes them nervous, it's jughead talking to betty.

(which is stupid, archie literally said he had feelings for veronica with his actual mouth, i don't know why they ignore her—)

5) b/archie must be together because of their similar storylines (umm what? They all have trauma, and they don’t even come close to having similar storylines. That actually made my brain hurt)—yeah, they're all in the midst of trauma. that's the point? none of them are doing well right now? maybe they should watch the actual show?

also they're wrong anyway tbh, because archie and veronica are fighting against hiram and betty and jughead are the ones investigating so, uh, their storylines aren't similar at all.

6) and this one tops the cake. Lili and cole can’t stand to be near each other so that automatically means b/archie endgame and that’s why we push so hard so we can have something we can never have in real life 🤯 ( the b/archies have completely lost it. There’s no help in saving them. Lili and cole are professional, they can handle them selves. Don’t bring real life into this)—who's gonna tell them about the scenes filmed after that breakup? including love scenes. i'm still side-eyeing the b/a who lost it on twitter when kj announced he was going to be a dad because it killed their hopes of kj and lili dating and getting the "bughead" treatment for b/archie. like there's not a whole video of ras talking about putting betty and jughead together before riverdale ever came out. they need to stop listening to ex-bughead stans who forgot how to separate reality from fiction.

Also as I think about all the episodes that are left and trying to think how they think b/archie can reconnect. Episode 16- Jughead’s apology tour and bughead talk, episode 17- they work together with Tabitha. Veronica gets divorced (I’m assuming by a still) mines explode, Jackson I think dies. Betty hits rock bottom when they find Polly’s body (my theory) episode 18- Cooper centric musical which reads bughead. (I’m going by what I’ve read on this one)—that's the whole point for a lot of it, there's not a lot of time for whatever they think is going to happen. if bughead is investigating together, we know from experience that there's probably not a lot of scenes just randomly showing them doing other things. whatever overly flowery thing they're wishing for is really just...gonna have to say it's probably not going to happen.

I do think Archie will be there for Betty, in a platonic way. He’s dealt with death and grief of a loved one and he can help her in ways others can’t and that’s how their friendship deepens (although she did lose her father many years before but I don’t see that the same)—i think evan said that the bomb emoji for b/archie was literal so maybe they go through something at the mines or something, i don't know but i do know that it's always a plot device and never has any real lasting impact on the friendship the show wants us to think is there.

but back to the bughead portion of that. I do think Bughead starts their way back. But anyways that leaves episode 19 which is a season final and all types of things going on for Betty and Archie to proclaim their love (also I forgot until now. Ba’s believe that because Cole didn’t post either lili or kj on his wrap post for season 5 is that they are on their own in their love factory)—it's funny to me that they think that most of the characters are out there with weapons and betty and archie aren't because they're in some sort of love nest, planning a baby announcement. archie? not leading some righteous cause? spearheading a rescue mission? really? they've assumed a lot about those pictures, including where and when it all takes place. i mean, i'm a big fan of logic so if i was going to assume anything, i'd assume that maybe the missing characters are the ones who need to be rescued. or it's a misdirection. but no, i'm sure it's totally because the two most impulsive characters are off planning a baby announcement. what exactly, did they think the scene was if people were missing from it?

I think that maybe the cliffhanger his then trying to save Betty and Archie’s out doing what Archie does best which is act like he knows what’s going on. Idk just a thought.—honestly, it seems like there's a lot of action going on in the finale and riverdale does love a cliffhanger so archie throwing himself in the middle of it sounds about right.

So in summary their is no time for them and if they would watch the show like normal people that would of seen this a while ago. (What story the show is actually telling vs what they read in interviews and what they come up in their heads) bughead is the story.—riverdale is the type of show people in fandom watch with a microscope and everyone else is watching while scrolling through their phone. it's not complicated and it's not playing a long con. that roberto and co have said the same things to them for years with none of the results they keep expecting is really not on any of us.

at this point, they need to remember that even bugheads and varchies gave b/a more thought than the show did and stop blaming us for things not going their way.

💕 have a fantastic morning.—i hope your morning was great and have a fantastic afternoon.💜

[taehyungsbabyygirl]

Socialità

Chapter 1

Genres: Light fluff, tinge of romance and wholesome(?)

Warning(s): The littlest bit of sexual tension if you squint

----------

Fortune, fame, beauty.

Those are the things that people had associated you with.

Who does not know Y/F/N Y/L/N? You're basically in every magazine cover, every Youtube thumbnail and news headline. Surpassing Kylie Jenner as quote unquote The World's Richest Young Businesswoman and even beating Ariana Grande as the most followed female influencer on Instagram.

Who really are you? Well, to explain it simply to people who are unaware of you, your businesses and socialite status, you are the owner of a multi-billion dollar brand.

What started with a small online business at 16 which sells nightwear for women with affordable, cheap prices had bloomed into a luxury brand known for their elegant, classy clothing line, ranging from lingerie to formal clothing such as glamorous dresses to charming suits and tuxedos for both men and women.

The brand name? After years of rebranding, it's finally official that the name is, Socialità. Fitting with your brand's target market which were rich socialites from across the globe. Of course there was a reason for that, considering that the materials were high quality, imported ones such as satin and silk from Japan, Egyptian cotton, and French lace, also the designing and productions team who were amongst the best in the art of fashion and exclusivity of everything that was made under the brand, without a doubt would result in a higher cost of production and simultaneously a higher price for the merchandise itself.

And all this success did not come easy, there were countless times when you wanted to hideaway and give up on everything you had invested on. At the age of 28, you finally got to where you are now, thriving with the business that you had built with your own bare hands from the confines of your own bedroom.

But, there was one thing that you were lacking in, the love department. Although you were pretty much well-known by youngsters to elders alike, luck does not seem to be on your side when it comes to romantic relationships. It's not that you weren't romantic or sweet enough, gosh you are a hopeless romantic actually, but you just somehow fall for the wrong person, time and time again.

All the people you had dated once you established a name in the fashion world were either self-centered jerks or gold-digging leeches who were only there for the fame and riches. It's as if you had dated way more men than Taylor Swift ever had, except, you don't call these people out in songs.

Aside from owning a lavish clothing brand and billions to your name, having to work with socialite circles, had granted you the socialite status too. You'd be lying if you say that no rich bachelor had tried to flirt around with you but, your previous horrible experiences with dating as a successful businesswoman made you put your guard up and in the end turning you into the most sought after bachelorette of the 21st century.

-----

"What??? The Bachelorette?? Gosh guys, that would be a horrible idea." You shook your head, swirling the red wine in your glass before sipping on it.

It was a normal weekend evening for you and your peers aka your personal management team which consisted of Selma, Carrie, Lulu, Trey and Giovanni. Sitting in the dining room of your enormous mansion in Calabasas while drinking cheap wine and munching on Cheeto Puffs.

You just finished ranting about how you are so unlucky in love and that you're almost turning 30, without being cuffed to someone. In your opinion, people in their late 20s had already met that person and having good balance in their work, social and love lives but you're here having a nonexistent love life instead.

Tired of constantly listening to the same rants over and over again, Giovanni proposed that you put yourself in a controversial yet exciting TV show, The Bachelorette.

"Girllll you should give The Bachelorette a try, I mean I know that the show is basically scripted but it seems exciting, no?" Giovanni chirped.

"Oh my god yasssss! I'd have the time of my life if I'm surrounded by a dozen of good-looking hunks!" Carrie joined in and daydreamed.

You snorted and put your glass down on the marble surface of the table.

"Yeah but the men on there are usually insincere and only in it for their 60 seconds of fame and the winner of the show is probably just motivated by money. What difference does it make with me going to a private party or nightclub and getting to know dudes there?" You retorted; brow raising to your two friends.

"Sis, the difference is, these men would have to submit a form regarding their background and audition for the show! If you want, we could even be your reps during the audition. We know who are the best people for you!" Selma answered your rhetorical question while pouring herself another glass of wine. She's your PA and bestie so she knew how to reply with the same energy as yours.

Sighing deeply with your fingers pinching your nose bridge, you thought once, twice, thrice and made your decision. Well, what's the worst that could happen right?

"Fine, fine! I'm in with the idea. But if this thing goes south, I.Am.Out." The dominant businesswoman persona in you presented herself whilst the others, especially Giovanni, cheered upon your agreement with their idea.

-----

After months of preparations for your big reality TV debut, it was finally the day for the first week of The Bachelorette. Although you're the one being the prize and the one being chased, you felt uneasy and nervous to meet the men who had passed the auditions to become contestants.

"Don't worry! Me and Giovanni made sure that we only let the best ones pass the audition. And when I say the best ones, I meant, socialites, doctors, businessmen and even kinsmen of royalty!"

"Only the best for our QUEEN!"

Those were the words that came out of Selma and Gio's mouths. Thankfully you have these reliable people to help filter through the applicants of the program. If you gave the show's producers 100% control over who comes in and comes out of the show, it'll be a hot mess and they'd probably choose the men based on their looks and bulkiness but not necessarily the brains and skills.

Throughout the audition process, all of the men's background and names were kept a secret from you by Selma and Gio, it'll be a surprise, they said and you trusted them with it.

Sitting at the back of a limousine alone, you started to fidget with the dangling diamond of your earring subconsciously; a habit that you developed whenever you had cold feet.

The vehicle was heading towards the villa where the first meeting would happen between you, the bachelorette and your suitors.

You and the production team had discussed about how the first meeting would be. You thought that the idea of having to stand in front of the villa's front door while the men arrive in limos were quite cringy and not to mention time-consuming and unnatural so you proposed the idea of having the men arrive in a first come first serve basis and sit in numbered rooms in the villa while awaiting you. In that way, you could see who was punctual and who was late. But the catch is, the contestants only have 5 minutes to chat up with you and leave a good first impression.

-----

Alas, you finally reached the villa and stepped out of the automobile. Your dress was a satin, rosé coloured one with a modified A-line, basque waist and halter neckline; glamorous yet not over the top, suitable for a socialite like you.

Not wasting any time, once the cameras started rolling, you entered the ginormous villa and headed upstairs to the rooms, knocking the door gently before entering the space.

The first man you met was Kim Namjoon, he introduced himself as an engineer, a sound engineer. He was confident from the get go and eloquent too.

"Hmm an engineer ay?" You propped your head with the palm of your hand; leaning against the couch's back pillows.

"Yeah.. My family insisted I do that. I wanted to be a musician at first, and that's why I took up sound engineering now." He gave out a dimple smile which you couldn't help but grin at. They're adorable.

You liked his presence and how outspoken he was but sadly the 5 minutes were before you knew it.

Next, you met up with a gentleman named Im Jaebum. A winery owner. He gave you a warm hug from the first time you entered the room.

"I heard that you're a wine conoisseur yourself Y/N? I'd love to take you to Napa Valley where my winery is. I'm sure we'll have a blast there." He smiled and acted a bit smug.

"That sounds like a plan.. I'm not a person who would say no to wine." You replied with a light wink, returning the smugness to him.

Continuing on, after Jaebum, you entered a room which looked bigger than the previous two you'd been in.

By the big window, there was a man with broad shoulders who introduced himself as Kim Seokjin, as he turned around, he greeted you and pecked your hand.

"Nice to meet you I'm Kim Seokjin, just call me Jin." He smiled softly, inviting you to sit down next to him.

"Nice to meet you too Jin.. So what do you do?" You asked carefully; quite intrigued by how good-looking he is with the slicked back hairstyle he has.

"Well I'm a professor of English and Korean Literature. Probably one of the most uninteresting jobs among the other guys." He timidly admitted; being quite humble.

You immediately disagreed with his statement, telling him that literature components are fascinating and that educating people about it is a magnificent job.

Afterwards you conversed with a man named Park Jinyoung. He was also extremely dashing and he's a car dealer. But not just any car, the ones he sells are top brands such a Lamborghini, Maserati, Tesla and Ferrari.

"My job is amazing. Good money, good image, but there was something missing and I think we both could relate to that, we both are looking for love." He half-bragged which didn't really impress you but you agreed nonetheless.

As you politely excused yourself to move on to the next room, where the man was leaning back and scrolling through his phone. Fair skin and contrasting ebony coloured hair.

This guy gave off a cold vibe to you but that made you even more intrigued to get to know him.

"Hi..." You sat on the couch with him and he gave a small smile as he put his phone the side.

"Min Yoongi.. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand out to shake yours. A pretty formal greeting despite the consequences you two were in at the moment.

You two kept the conversation going by talking about your jobs and background. Everything you asked, he answered in all honestly and you liked that. The push-and-pull game was a fun one to play but with Yoongi, the small talk you had was chill and relaxed, the most natural one you had the whole night.

Up next was a kind looking male, taller than Yoongi who seem to be nervous about meeting you for the first time.

"Hello!" You greeted him with a bright smile to ease his anxiousness.

"Hi, hi.. I'm Mark Tuan. I'm an artist.." He abruptly greeted you back.

"Ooh! Like musically or..?" You tilted your head.

"Visually.. I draw and paint."

You led the conversation with the man since he looked very hesitant and awkward the whole time.

The next room had a bubbly and energetic man who was basically radiating good vibes as you entered the room. His name was Jung Hoseok. As you peeked into the room, he immediately walked towards you and gave you tight bear hug with a huge smile plastered on his face.

"Well besides my job as a paediatric specialist, I also enjoy dancing. Do you like to dance?" He jumped off the seat and proceeded to pull you up with him to playfully salsa. His actions made you laugh happily.

"You're so spontaneous!" You hit his chest lightly, still laughing at you guys' actions.

After the exciting interaction between you and Hoseok, you had to calm down and lower your expectations again after it skyrocketed because of the doctor earlier.

That's when you met a muscular man, if Hoseok earlier had radiated good boy vibes, this one radiated bad boy vibes.

He was Jackson Wang, a well-known socialite who is the heir of Wang Co. Ltd. A company which sells electronics such as smartphones, tablets and computers.

"Hello.." You said softly, slightly intimidated by the man's comparably bigger size to you.

"Hello, pretty lady." He took your hand in his and kissed it just like Jin had but his way of executing it was different. The male kissed each of your knuckle and it got you culture shocked.

"Oh wow.. Okay.." You laughed awkwardly as you looked at the man kiss your hand.

The conversation went well with him despite you noticing that he was practically staring at your with those deep brown eyes while you spoke about yourself to him.

The sexual tension was there and you were hoping, praying that the next man would tone down a bit and let you relax, thankfully custom jeweler, Park Jimin did.

"I'm a jeweler.. And can I just say, I adore these diamonds. You have remarkable taste." He proceeded to run his hand gently through the diamond earring you were wearing.

"Thank you! And I absolutely adore this choker you have on.." You reciprocated his action which made him smile softly.

Next up was the room of a private jet pilot named Choi Youngjae.

"Nice to meet you Y/N! I hope we could create good memories here. I'd love to bring you on a helicopter and show you the aerial view of California." He mused but you're not entirely impressed but acted as if you were in order to not hurt his feelings.

"Aww I'd like that. The view must be amazing!" You cringed at your own words but smart enough to mask it.

Hmm, you foresee someone who's potentially going to go home first in this show. His words lacked personality and character and not well thought.

Come on, you obviously had rode a helicopter and saw the aerial view of California. You ride it to work whenever the traffic is congested. He could at least thought of another country or state but instead he settled with Cali, the state where you are based in.

Disappointed, you moved on to the next room, surprisingly, the atmosphere was different, the area was dimly lit and the man sitting on the chair had his legs spread.

"Hi.." He spoke with a deep, low voice that caused you to bite your lip.

"Hello.." You smiled amidst the tense situation, making your way towards him.

"Kim Taehyung.. Fashion designer and owner of TH Couture." He answered without you asking.

The male was quite blunt but his demeanor was alluring. There was a mysterious aura circling him, totally someone to keep an eye on. The conversation was as intense as Jackson's but the two of you had the same interest which was fashion so you didn't feel as awkward as when you were with Jackson.

After Taehyung, it is down to three more people, you were already losing momentum and excitement as you already had spoken to 11 men that night. Before entering the next room, you took a deep breathe and loosen up your shoulders.

In the room was a man, he looked the most different, he had a lengthy name, a Thai one.

"Kunpimook Bhuwakul, but just call me Bam Bam.. I know my name's quite long and I'm also more comfy with Bam Bam.." He bowed to you like a gentleman and smiled handsomely at you.

"That's an adorable name! Bam Bam huh?" You sat down and grinned at the latter.

"You think so? You're adorable-er" He winked at you and caught you off-guard.

As the five minutes of jokes and flirty pickup lines ended, you bid farewell to the Thai man, little did you know that the person you just talked to was related to the Thai royal family.

Entering the 2nd last room, there was a tall man, looking around the well-furnished room but as soon as you came in, his attention diverted to you.

He greeted you with enthusiasm, introducing himself as Kim Yugyeom, an app developer and gaming streamer.

"Gosh you're pretty." He said straight-forwardly while smiling brightly and hugging you snugly.

"And GOSH you're tall!" You replied with those words and the same smile as what he had on his face. At this rate, reciprocation is really your best friend when you don't know how to react or reply to a certain remark from the suitors.

You talked about the apps Yugyeom had developed and the variations amazed you. He had created tons of apps such as games, workout apps, e-commerce platforms, online stores and sorts. But when he started talking about games, you began to lose interest in the chatter. Games weren't your strongest suit but you were happy that he is passionate about them and sharing it with you.

Finally! The last room! Which meant that this person is the last person to arrive to the villa. You wonder who this latecomer is and when you got into the area, your eyes widened.

Jeon Jungkook? He was somebody you had worked with and still actively working with. He is the person in charge of the photography and videography for Socialità and seeing him on The Bachelorette is a huge surprise.

"Wait.. JK?" You didn't know how to react.

"Hey! There's my girl!" He walked towards you with his bunny smile and gave you a hug. You couldn't believe that this was happening, Selma and Gio must've put him in to pull a prank on you.

"One question. Why?" You laughed in disbelief.

"Can't a man try?" He questioned back cheekily.

You two continued the conversation casually without any awkwardness as the two of you had known each other already. That was when you got to know that he had taken a liking on you ever since you two started working together. Everything he told you had sounded sincere so far.

-----

After the first meetings were over, all the men were put in the lounge to get to know each other's competition while you were interviewed by the crew regarding your first impressions of all of your suitors.

"Well everyone was pleasant. But there were a few who didn't pass my vibe check. I guess we just gotta see how it goes." You gave an ambiguous answer to the camera.

"Who do you think caught your eyes the most?" Henry, the producer asked.

"Hmm.. I don't want to seem bias, I mean this is the 1st episode after all but... Hoseok was fun to be around.. Jackson came off very strong. And well Jungkook too of course!"

"You seem to know him.." The producer stated.

"Yes yes.. We actually work together.. I didn't know that he'd want to participate in this show too." You shrugged and flashed a pearly white smile.

"Do you see anyone who might be going home soon?"

"Oof.. That's a dangerous question. That'd probably be ..."

To be continued (3 March, 12 AM, KST)

Author's note: Sorry for the delay guys! I underestimated the length of this chapter but I hope you guys like it! Don't forget to like and reblog this to show support! Also follow so you don't miss out on updates! This chapter is more of an introductory chapter so we'll be seeing more action and interaction between Y/N and de boyzzz.

Who do you think would be eliminated first?

Tagging @aretha170

[roublardise]

my "Crowley isn't attracted to women" take

for @spnprideweek - day 2 - mlm

cw: dicussion of homophobia & transphobia all in all I wanted to highlight how canon gay Crowley is bc I love him 💕 thank u spn for Crowley even tho he deserved better

in the last weeks I've realized there's a huuge consensus in the fandom for pansexual Crowley. if you're pan or not and wanna hc Crowley as pan, power to you! but what's bothering me is the non-discussion of it all. the way it seems obvious for everyone. whereas, to me, Crowley has been canonically gay all this time.....

disclaimer: I'm aware Mark Sheppard alledgely said he saw Crowley as pansexual, however I can't even take these words for canon without context. Especially not when a year later he'd say Crowley's sexuality didn't matter. The way Mark Sheppard talks about characters' sexuality is more a "why are people making a big deal let them be" than "the character doesn't care." Moreover, actors pov can't be taken as canon imo. Jensen Ackles thought Dean straight for so long when Dean's been bi all this time as well. Sometimes actors are biased by their own experiences & stereotypes!

disclaimer #2: on god I don't wanna start discourse lmao. I just wanna share my silly thoughts about a tv show & question the way Crowley's sexuality is written in this silly homophobic tv show. don't @ me about what's making you think Crowley is indisputably pansexual bc I assure you I already know your points

That being said, here's why I think Crowley is a bear, a gay man, a trans gay man actually, a homosexual, who isn't attracted to women & some food for thoughts about why the unquestioned consensus towards pan Crowley could have roots in both homophobia & panphobia.

I don't think we can think of Crowley as your usual demon. We know too much about Crowley's life as a human, and the numerous ways in which he acts un-demony, almost humanly after. Considering him simply like a demon with no concept of gender preference who would be pan “by default” wouldn’t be right with his character. But we also can't question his sexuality in the exact same way we would a human's.

It also can't be thought in the same way as angels': as once-humans demons do have a concept of gender. Crowley especially cares a lot about his gender presentation and the way he's addressed. Not only does he literally sell his soul for a bigger d*ck as a human ; as a demon he uses the same vessel where other demons are shown to move once they had to leave one ; and for the few hours Crowley's possessing a woman, he clearly states he should still be referred to as king.

This will all be used for homophobic & transphobic jokes in the show, but I'll get back to that later on. Gender does matter to Crowley's identity, and I think it could be extended to his sexuality.

I've seen numerous descriptions of it all saying Crowley's sexuality was "ambiguous" and I guess it is, as he never explicitly used any label. However "ambiguous" doesn't mean bi or pan. It doesn't mean anything besides the fact we can't draw a clear-cut conclusion of his sexuality.

Imo we can actually draw a clear-cut conclusion of Crowley's sexuality but yeh, I'm getting there.

----------------

Let's take a look at canon events around Crowley & sexuality!

His character introduction is him enjoying making a homophobe man kiss him for a deal

It is rumoured that he was a demon's lover (Lilith's)

He heavily flirts with Bobby

He french kisses Bobby for a deal and takes a pic

He never kisses a woman on screen (tell me if I forgot anyone!)

He flirts with every single man he sees, and even more strongly when it's making the other uncomfortable

The other parent of Crowley's son is never mentioned nor even brought up

He has two orgies that we know of

He has sex with a demon who's possessing a woman (Lola) when he was addicted to human blood

He dates, has sex with, and asks Dean to rule Hell with him. He's in love with Dean

On late spn he drinks fruity drinks

He flirts with and implies he had sex with an angel (Naomi)

He flirts with Death (Billie)

He's into BDSM

I'm not gonna go into details with all the sexual stuff he says bc there's a lot.... But it's always about gay sex. (once again, if I'm forgetting smth pls tell me nicely)

Now, with all that I'd like to question specifically the elements people use to say Crowley is canonically attracted to women.

He has two orgies that we know of

There’s the one Crowley has while he’s himself possessing a woman ; iirc it’s a foursome with two other men and one woman. Crowley still counts as a King, as the show makes sure we know, admitedly this dialogue implies we should still think of him as a not-very-manly-man.

Honestly, if one is convinced Crowley is attracted to women based on this scene.. okay. Personally I don’t see it because the orgy is unplanned, it’s an opportunity Crowley takes. Is he even attracted to the two other men?? Who knows. We don’t even know if Crowley even touches the other woman, there’re so many ways to have group sex. Even if he did, having sex with one woman doesn’t make it impossible for him to be homosexual.

The second orgy is with Dean. Crowley describes it then: “We've done extraordinary things to triplets.” It’s interesting how before I went to check, I thought it was clear the triplets were women. But not at all! I’ve been tricked by heteronormativity myself. So this is up to interpretation. Even though the way the show doesn’t make sure we know the triplets were women is pretty telling (as I’ll talk about later).

It is rumoured that he was Lilith's lover

Well, this is a rumour. In this relationship Crowley would know Lilith as a demon possessing a woman, and Lilith would know Crowley as a demon possessing a man as well. Who's even to say they met in their vessels to sleep together. That's the kind of cases in which the ambiguity of Crowley human/demon situation makes it impossible to draw any kind of conclusion towards Crowley's attraction to women. Also if anything Lilith is clearly a lesbian lmao.

He has sex with Lola when he was addicted to human blood

Same thing here, the relationship is one of demon/demon. Though we do now they do meet in their vessels to sleep together. Besides that, the sex happens while Crowley is at a low point. She's the one bringing him human blood, which makes the sex more of a transaction than anything. It does fit a very grey area of consent which would be fair to question.

We can't know for sure whether the demon possessing the woman was a woman as well, but let's say she was: 1/ Crowley having sex once or twice with a woman doesn't prevent him from being homosexual. 2/ What is he seeing if not a demon's true form? 3/ Wasn't he in a self-destructive mental state?

It's a stretch, imo, to assume Crowley was attracted to her.

He flirts with and had sex with Naomi / flirts with Billie

This one is so ridiculous to me bc Naomi is an angel and as a demon, Crowley sees her true form. We don't even know who was her vessel when they had sex.

The flirt thing is interesting however, bc iirc Naomi and Billie are the only "women" we see Crowley actually flirt with. During the orgies or the demon sex there's no flirt involved. It's interesting bc, as Cas would say: "Naomi's vessel is a woman. Naomi is an angel."

Same case for Billie who's a reaper then Death. Spn is pretty unclear about how the whole thing works but we know reapers are kind of angels. In any case, I won't go as far as saying Billie has any connection to gender.

Moreover, the way Crowley flirts with them is pretty light next to everything else Crowley says to men. It's pretty personal, I'm aware, but I do relate a lot with the way Crowley flirts with them VS how I flirt with men just because (and I'm a lesbian).

Anyway! Both Naomi and Billie are supernatural creatures, which brings the count of women Crowley flirts with to... zero.

-> What I take from all that is that Crowley is attracted to men for sure ; to angels and demons ; and doesn't care about the genitalia involved in the sex he has. We have nothing about the kind of relationships he had as a human. His gender presentation matters a lot to him. The only long-term commitment he has is with Dean. I wouldn't even say he had a committed relationship with Gavin's other parent bc we don't know anything about them.

----------------

But what's my deal with homosexual Crowley? One can wonder, if Crowley doesn't care about bodies, doesn't that mean he can still be written as pan?

No! First because sexual attraction isn't about genitalia (even if transphobes would argue the contrary but they're transphobic so...). And second, well....

I would refer to this point as "how do I know Crowley isn't attracted to women? bc Dean is"

I'm convinced that if the show wanted to write Crowley as anything other than a gay man, it would have been way more obvious.

This is a show who wrote Dean catcalling a faceless woman on the street, for no other reason than to remind the viewers Dean was attracted to women & to balance it with the following homoerotic scene.

One could say spn doesn't have lots of women characters to begin with, but that's my point exactly: when spn wants to show attraction towards women, they do find women for people to be attracted to. Hell, they even give Gavin some girlfriend but never ever bring up the topic of Gavin's other parent. Even though an entire episode is dedicated to learning about Crowley's past.

What's important to understand Crowley's sexuality isn't the people he slept with ; it's the people he doesn't show interest in.

The absence of something is the presence of the thing, blablabla. It's a way to look at homosexuality that heteronormativity makes hard to see because, unconciously, we don't tend to question attraction towards the expected gender. One would ask for a 10 pages essay on why a character is gay, but one would need only a 2 sec kiss to assure a character's heterosexuality or attraction towards the expected gender.

----------------

In Crowley's case, his attraction to men is a huge part of his character right from the beginning (thanks god, at least no one's questioning that). Spn as a show that hears what the fans are saying and twists writing accordingly, is perfectly aware of that. Yet rather than pushing women at him along the course of the show to remind everyone how Not Gay Crowley is - the opposite happens.

Yeh, Lola, Naomi, Billie, they all happen in the later seasons. But even then, the show somehow can't write Crowley as attracted to a human woman.

What happens then is: not only does Crowley fall for Dean ; he engages in some BDSM play with Lucifer : and he switches from drinking only the finest Scotch to fruity cocktails.

The BDSM thing as well as the drink thing are choices rooted in stereotypes, that's how spn is! But it does canonize Crowley's homosexuality. They're depriving him of his "masculinity" as the show goes on, because they purposely write him as homosexual. I don't think spn would have ever written a bi or pan character that way.

We learned a few days ago that Crowley died in a gutter. He died in a gutter for a bigger d*ck. I'm just gonna refer to Oscar Wilde & Mika on this : "some of us in the gutter are looking up at the stars."

The "referred to as king" scene isn't about Crowley being a demon and so not caring about gender - it's the opposite. Other demons are the ones poiting out Crowley's vessel. This is a transphobic joke. It's the demon edition of the "gay boy in a dress" transmisogynistic trope.

Viewers aren't supposed to be on Crowley's side ; we're supposed to be giggling with the other demons while Crowley is being emasculated. Crowley gets a woman vessel because he's a not-very-manly-man, because he's a trans man, because he's homosexual.

And I know that bc Dean is written as bi, and all they're doing is reaffirming the way he does like women while being extra subtle with his love for men.

Meanwhile Crowley is losing influence and power, loses his authority as he loses his throne in Hell, gets humiliated by Lucifer, until all his character revolves around is his love for Dean. The way Crowley is then protrayed as some lovesick ex who can't move on is, imo, a straight man fantasy. Crowley's love is both used as predatory and as a tool to validate Dean's Peak Masculinity.

Spn has been burying their gays all along, and Crowley was right there being punished for not only being in love with Dean but for not being attracted to women. For never being able to be a "normal" guy. For never being able to be seen as a "normal" guy. For checking every homophobic stereotypes in the books. Crowley as a human dies because he's a trans man. Crowley as a demon dies because he's homosexual.

----------------

That's what leads me to be uncomfortable with the way the fandom seems to have a consensus towards pansexual Crowley. (Once again: idc about people's personal hc of Crowley as pan, I just want to think critically about the way no one thinks twice about it & accepts it as canon so easily. Hell, just bc I dared to ask what started the pan Crowley confirmation I got accused of erasing his pansexuality. All I did was ask a question.)

To me, it feels like erasing everything his character went through because he was gay. And it seems to be taken from a reasoning which is going to assume Crowley is attracted to women.

I mean: the reasoning would go "oh, Crowley clearly has a non-straight sexuality -> he's attracted to men -> he's pan" His attraction to women being accepted by default, without needing any backup. And when I look at the canon I see nothing implying he'd be attracted to women. Taking Crowley's attraction to women for granted is following an heteronormative thinking.

Being into people isn't all about who one sleeps with. It's about love. And when we look at what spn shows about Crowley's close relationships, the only meaningful one he got is with Dean. When Rowena wants payback for Crowley making her kill Oskar, she goes for his son.

And it's SO interesting to me because if angels can't be in love because they don't have a soul - can demons? as they're beings with a destroyed soul? And if so, how powerful of Crowley to still fall in love with Dean Winchester.... the power of gay love :) (Crowley 🤝 Cas)

----------------

To conclude all this with some more stuff to think about if, like me, you love questioning everything:

While it's not wrong per se to hc Crowley as pan, it can be worth questioning what's making us so sure we collectively just vibe with it? To me there's a few things: - As I was saying: heteronormative bias - Crowley being a non-fully-human character - Crowley being masculine (despite the show's attempts to erase that) - Crowley being into BDSM - Crowley flirting and making sexual remarks in every context

These, unconsciously, gives a vibe of a character who's "outside" of the gender norm, not making big deal of their sexuality, not even questioning it. This creates this idea of "ambiguity" around Crowley's sexuality. The way Crowley particularly seems to be really chill about sex, is a demon (so what does he know about gender?), and heavily flirty, ... is what most people will link to pansexuality. That doesn't mean thinking of Crowley as pan is being problematic™ ; this means in western medias that's what fills the "pansexual character" imagery (like basically: the Jack Harkness type).

However, when we look at it like that, none of these elements are defining of pansexuality. None of them are excluding him from homosexuality. If not stereotypes.

That's where it gets personal ; but it does make me feel like the huge consensus towards a pansexual Crowley (when there is no clear-cut evidence of it) is erasing the complexity of homosexual experiences. As I said at the begining: I'm happy if pansexual people can relate to Crowley ; everone's free to headcanon. But saying Crowley is canonically pansexual is a stretch - and a take rooted in homophobic stereotypes.

Imo Crowley may have been created with all these traits pushing towards a pan reading of his character. However, as the show went, he was clearly written as a homosexual man. The changes in his portrayal took a turn to be specifically homophobic. He gets imagery that only strictly homosexual characters got (such as drinking fruity cocktails like Aaron. Meanwhile Dean, on the same scene, is allowed beer & whiskey.)

We're used to taking spn's homophobic rep and jokes to make it our own. Yet it seems, when it comes to Crowley, the fandom doesn't see it.

Sometimes people aren't attracted to the gender heteronormativity expects them to be attracted to.......... sometimes people are gay and it's not an umbrella term.

[mae-gi-writes]

Plus One | Kevin Moon (Around The World Collab)

When your boyfriend of eight years suddenly decides to break up with you right before your destined trip for your cousin’s wedding, nothing can cure your broken heart. In a desperate attempt to make you feel better, Kevin states that he will be your plus one.

Genre: little angst, fluff, friends to lovers. 

This fic is part of a collab “Around The World”, featuring different countries x the boyz members. I had the utmost pleasure of working with such an amazing group of talented writers for this project, so please don’t forget to check out their works too! ^^ <3 

This fic is takes place on Mauritius Island. 

Word count: 9k IZ A LONG ONE SO BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUPS

Tagging: @aniyawoos​ @chaoticdeobi​ @moondustaeil​ @juyeonzz​ @atbzkingdom​ @2hyunjae​ @jopping-to-my-kpop @jeongsinkookie @ihearttbz​ @heartyyjeno​ @bahnmi07 @sadlandia​ @itsquxxn​

-----------

Eight years, gone just like that. 

I stare at a spot on my navy blue suitcase, not really focused on what’s before me and more concerned about the memories flickering past  my lids. I can’t help it. Everytime I see luggage, it makes me think of the way I kicked him out of my life. Everytime, a slab of pain will grab my heart between its icy fingers and squeeze it so that I can barely breathe. Everytime, until I feel like I’m drowning inside dark waters without the real desire to swim to the surface. 

My psychiatrist told me that it had been for the better. That it had been an obsessive, unhealthy kind of love in the first place. But was it better now that I couldn’t even feel my heart in the hollow space where it’s supposed to be? 

“Y/N.” 

Still, I remember the messages on his phone, the way his touch would feel strange, eerily hollow for some reason, the way he’d avoid my eyes whenever he’d tell me that he was going out with the guys. I remember smelling his coat and recoiling at the cheap scent of perfume clinging to it like second skin, how he’d constantly tell me how wonderful I was-- too wonderful for him -- and that I should find better, that I didn’t deserve someone like him.

And then, when I’d stumbled into our flat a little earlier than I was meant to -- since my gym class had been cancelled -- and took note of the trail of shoes, followed by a coat, a shirt, a thong, before my ears picked up on the noises echoing from the bedroom doors…

“Y/N?” 

His face when he spotted me, the astounded expression like a dog that had just been caught sneaking into the pantry. And the girl, a prettier woman, a curvy woman, with red lips and with those beautifully deep red wine locks tumbling down her back with the perfect physique that could make any man drool. That girl, who was none other than one of my good friends at work and who had spent most part of the year listening to my rants about him. 

“Y/N!”

“Huh?” My head whips up when I register my name being called out, looking up to see a raven-haired, petite-faced man leaning against the bedroom doorway with raised brows and a concerned expression on his face. 

“Oh, you’re here,” I say, as he crosses the doorway and sits beside me. The bed dips down under his weight as he tilts his head in that knowing manner of his, “daydreaming again?” 

“No,” I mumble, but he sees right through my facade and with a sigh, his arms wrap around my shoulder before pillowing his head against my shoulder. 

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs as I allow myself to lean back against him, against his comfort. His lavender scent wraps around me, a little bed of comfort amidst all the pain. 

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I murmur, tears stinging the corner of my eyes, “it hurts, Kev.” 

He only holds me a little closer, a little tighter.

If there is one person that I can trust more than myself, it’s Kevin Moon. I’ve known Kevin ever since high school, having hung out in the same friend group until we had become partners for an art project. It was only then that we’d become closer, and had been close ever since. With his angular features and almond mono lidded eyes and thin lips that were constantly shaped in a pout, the Korean-born man had moved to Canada when he was young, just like I had a few years ago. He had kept me afloat during my university days, I had comforted him through his first break up. He had been present during my final Fine Arts Photography Exhibition, I was up all night coming up with re-branding concepts for his design project. Overall, Kevin had pretty much been a constant in my life, you get the gist of it.

When he found out that my boyfriend had cheated just a few days before our destined trip to attend my cousin’s wedding -- mind you, I had been sobbing waterfalls and it was a miracle he even understood me through my blubbering mess -- he had half a mind to storm up to the guy and rip his throat out. But he did the most surprising thing; booked a ticket for himself and turned up at my flat on the eve of the departure, stating that he was going to accompany me to that wedding, whether I liked it or not.

My cousin, Emma, was getting married right where home was: Mauritius. The memories I once had of the small island nestled right in the Indian Ocean on the right of Madagascar, was of my grandma’s comforting food, the sea scented air that washed along with the too-white sandy beaches, the multitudes of merchants selling all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables on the side of the road, and small corner stores that looked like they had come out of a 1960’s movie. People liked to claim that Mauritius was paradise on earth, and in a way, it is.

“Come on,” Kevin had nagged when I shook my head adamantly. He’d wriggled his plane ticket before my nose, “you’re not going to let that loser spoil such a happy event are you? Emma’s waiting for you!” 

In the end, he’d won. Which is why we are here, staying at my cousin, Emma’s, apartment in a village called Moka, located at the foot of a mountain and has an abundance of forestry adorning the sides of the road. It's chilly here, in comparison to the harbourfront, and constantly smells like fresh rain and has a gentle fresh breeze blowing through.

“You know, assholes like him are not worth thinking about,” Kevin says now, his arm a gentle soothing caress up and down my back, “your brain might rot.” 

I can’t help but let out a soft, choked up laugh.

“It’s our first day here, let’s not ruin it by thinking about him, hm?” Kevin continues soothingly and I nod in agreement. He’s right. I’m just wasting time by reliving memories that I should be banishing from my mind. 

“Okay!” he brightens up then, “where shall we go? The sea? The market? Or do you want to go eat?!” 

--------------

The first few days are about meeting up with family and rediscovering Mauritius for what it is. Emma gives me a full-fledged hug the moment I open the door to her house, pressing me close to her with such motherly warmth that it takes everything in me not to break down right then and there. I greet my uncles and engage in small-talk with my aunts, help my grandma out in the kitchen as she continuously asks me why I’ve gotten so thin. While I know the main reason, I decide to smile and spare her the details, as embarrassing as it is. 

No one mentions him, until one of my uncles slips during a conversation with Kevin, “so you’re Y/N’s boyfriend. Such a pleasure to meet you! We’ve heard so much about you that we started thinking she was just making things up.” 

“Er--” Kevin reddens, “I--” 

“So how did you two meet?”

It is at this very instant that my mouth decides to move on its own and I blurt out, “we’re high school friends.” 

“Oh highschool sweethearts! How cute!” 

Kevin doesn’t fail to mention what a mistake I’ve made to lie to my entire family to save face.

“I feel guilty,” he says as we walk out to the car, keys dangling from my wrist. 

I unlock the car, “it’s fine. We’ll be in and out before they know it. They don’t have to know anything.” 

“Hm, sure.” 

After some well-deserved family time, Kevin and I decide to head to the west of the island to catch the sunset, my camera stuffed neatly in the backseat, where Kevin has tossed a few spare towels just in case. We each have donned our swimsuits for the occasion and it doesn’t take an expert to see the excitement thrumming through Kevin’s veins as he sits beside me like an excited child in the passenger seat. 

“I never realized that you guys drive on the left side of the road,” he comments, head whipping back and forth in-between the passage of cars. 

“Yeah, it takes some getting used to, especially if you’re crossing,” it is then that I notice that there is a newly built mall as we turn left at the green light, “hey, that’s new. I’ve never seen this before.” 

“Cas-ca-velle,” he mumbles out with that strong accent of his. He is definitely not one to know French and I’ve been acting as his translator all along, considering that my family speaks French at home, “what does that mean?” 

“Beats me. It’s just a fancy name for a new shopping mall,” I peer into its parking lot, “wanna visit?” 

“Whatever floats your boat, honey. I’m all in.”

The mall is longer than it is wide, with white archways decked with wooden-style roofs that give way to an open-plan exterior. A wide beige cemented pathway occupies the space, with shops lined on either side. 

“I never realized, but you guys are very multicultural,” comments Kevin as we pass by another family of four chattering quickly in a mixture of French and Creole. 

“We’re similar to Canada that way.” 

“Do you miss it here?” 

My eyes glance over at him, notice the soft empathy in his expression.

“I guess I do sometimes,” I say while I kick at a stray pebble, “It’s like homesickness. But in a way I can’t quite explain,” after a moment, I ask, “do you miss Korea?”

“The food, mostly,” he grins bashfully, “my halmeoni makes a killer gamja tang.” 

“Let’s go visit her one day.”

“Is that a promise?” he asks as I shrug, “if you want it to be.” 

It’s a little past six when we drive up to the Flic En Flac beach and as we gather our things, my eyes light up upon falling on a nearby roti stand. I quickly slap Kevin’s arm in my bout of excitement. 

“Ouch! What? What is it?” 

“Kevin, you’re not going to believe this,” I point at the stand in question, “this roti stand? It’s the best roti in Mauritius. Here, take this,” I don’t wait before shoving my bag and camera in his arms, “I’m gonna buy us some. You go and find us a spot on the beach.” 

“But--” 

I don’t wait for him to finish his sentence before taking off, greeting the merchant who is just about to be wrapping up to ask whether I can get two rotis with ‘cari saumon’ (roughly translated into salmon curry mixed with indian spices), local and freshly made. The smell wafts through the folded paper wrappers as I grab them. They smell just like my childhood, where everything had just been as easy as having rotis by the beach without a care about the future that is to come. It’s nostalgic and I can’t help the smile tugging up my mouth at the thought. 

Kevin is already settled atop a pair of spare towels and looks up at the sound of my footsteps approaching. I pass him one of the paper wrappers and he takes a peek, confusion flitting across his face. 

“This smells spicy,” he mutters loudly enough for me to hear, “it looks like naan bread.” 

“It is,” I agree, “except it’s flatter and more like a crepe.” 

Throwing me a hesitant glance, he takes a small bite. I watch his face go from confused to impressed in a few seconds, before his eyes whip up to mine, “woah, this is good.” 

“Told you so.” 

“But this is really, really good,” he can’t help but marvel at it and laughing, I proceed to dig into my own roti, allowing my mouth to be filled with that salty fish taste melting along my tastebuds, the curry spices giving it the nice tangy kick you wouldn’t find anywhere else. The roti is soft and practically melts on my tongue and I can’t help but moan at how good it is. 

“God, this is everything I’ve been looking for my whole life,” I find myself telling him, wrapped up in momentary bliss, “this, this is everything.” 

I can feel his eyes on me, so intense that my own flicker up in question. He drops his gaze the moment I do and I frown, confused. 

“What?” I can’t help but ask, wondering why he suddenly seems so meek, so shy and awkward, “what is it?” 

“Nothing,” he replies like he’s trying to be casual, except that it’s anything but. When he gazes back at me, I notice the warmth in his maroon eyes, more the color of caramel in the dim light from the sunset basking his profile in a golden glow, “I think--I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you so happy, since...” 

He doesn’t need to continue, for I know where this is going. Indeed, this is the first time in many months that I haven’t paid any attention to the hole inside my heart. 

And it feels good.

“Yeah,” I murmur as I watch the sun settle on the ocean’s horizon, fire kissing water, “I don’t know, I just feel like this is nice. Like it’s right.” 

I spare him a glance from the corner of my peripheral and watch him shift. His sleeveless shirt slips, allowing me a glimpse of the naked skin underneath. I quickly look away, slightly embarrassed at the notion of even thinking of him in such a way. 

“That’s how you should be, Y/N,” Kevin murmurs back just as softly. It’s almost like talking too loudly will break the sudden spell that has settled over our shoulders. He takes a sip of his beer before continuing, “you’ve suffered enough for someone who deserves nothing but shit for what he’s done.” 

There’s a small pause as I digest his words. Then, I manage to murmur out, “thanks, Kevin.” 

“No problem.” 

Another small bout of silence ensues, covered up by the sound of the ocean roaring up the sand, distant birds chirping in the fading light of the sunset drowning into the now orange-flecked waters. 

“Hey Y/N.” 

I glance at him. He’s gorgeous, even more so somehow. Maybe it’s the time of the day, maybe it’s the mood, or maybe it’s the way my heart can’t help but be swallowed in gratefulness whenever I look at him.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you know water has memory?” 

I choke on my beer, “do not-- and I mean this-- do not quote Frozen with me.” 

“Huh, I tried.” 

---------------------------

“So, Kevin huh?” 

My eyes shoot up to meet Emma’s in her crusty-dust-filled mirror, presently lounging on her bed and flipping through a book as I had been trying on my bridesmaid gown. Kevin is downstairs, helping out with the barbeque grill with the rest of the family, and it is only now that I get to have some alone time with the woman I consider my sister. 

She’s the only one that knew the exact details of my breakup, and that Kevin is only a mere replacement to cover my humiliated ass. I remember her trying to calm me down when I had called in a frenzy, practically hyperventilating because of the amount of pain that gripped at my heart and was choking me of all air. 

I revert my eyes back to the dress, a baby blue as bright as a summer sky, and smooth my hands down my sides, “he’s been so good to me, ever since…” I can’t finish the sentence, voice already wobbling at the thought that comes with it.

“Hey,” Emma’s murmur causes me to look up, and in her eyes I see a flicker of understanding, “he’s not worth it.” 

“I know,” I swallow back the tears crawling up my throat, “I know, it’s just--a hard pill to swallow.”

A hand comes to a rest at my elbow, before my cousin tucks her chin atop my shoulder, “it’ll be alright, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve you." 

I nod. Then, just to change the subject so that I don’t break down in her arms, I gesture towards the dress, “so? How does it look?” 

Emma tugs at some pieces here and there, rearranging the fabric as she sees fit, “I think it looks good. You look gorgeous. Kevin will swoon, for sure.” 

“It’s not like that,” I hurriedly say as I strip out of the dress and put it back on its hanger, “we’re just friends.” 

“Mhm,” she throws me a pointed look, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of her lips, “'just friends' doesn't feel right..” 

“Emma, really? Right after my breakup?” 

“He came to Mauritius just for you Y/N,” she squeezes my shoulders comfortingly, “doesn’t that count for something?” 

“Well, we’ve been friends since high school so…”

“I don’t think just any friend in high school would do such a thing if I asked,” Emma catches my eye in the mirror, her gaze deep and meaningful, “just think about that.” 

I just nod in hopes that she’ll stop yapping away at my nonexistent relationship with Kevin, whatever that means. The hole in my heart is still so raw and filled with pain that I can’t even start thinking about another relationship. The thought alone is enough to drain me of all energy and I decide to brush it off for now as I follow Emma out in the backyard now filled with familiar chatter and the smell of cooked meat wafting through the air, with the sky bruising a soft purple to signal the end of a long summer day. 

Catching sight of Kevin as I bring out one of the many salad bowls that my family has prepared, my lips can’t help but twitch into a slow smile when I see him by the grill, whipping away the multitudes of flies zipping back and forth as my other cousin deftly flips the sausages upside down with a trained rhythm that only years of experience can bring. 

“Kevin! You’re not doing your job right!” my cousin cries playfully. Kevin attempts to flap the newspaper around while screeching, “oh god, my eyes are burning!"

“Someone bring more meat!” My cousin hollers. 

“There’s more?!” 

“He’s doing a great job,” my grandmother’s voice brings my attention back to the salad bowl in my hands, and I quickly bend to kiss her cheek as she continues, “better than any of your other cousins. They never help out.” 

“That’s because you pamper them too much, grandma,” I grin at her and follow her to the dining table where my aunts are already settling down amongst themselves. 

The evening passes by with good food and good company, the sky darkening and dotting with a veil of stars that has Kevin gawking in awe. I'm not surprised, you don't see skies like that anywhere, a sky that isn't so intoxicated with modern chemicals. My uncles take it upon themselves to introduce Kevin to all the types of Mauritian delicacies, such as chickpea fritters we call 'gato pima', small balls of graped choko vegetable and minced pork 'niouk yen', and to top it all off, a plate of cornmeal pudding also known as 'pudine mai' that makes Kevin's eyes go wide with surprise.

"This is dessert?" He holds it up in his hand, "with ...cornmeal?"

"Sure is," one of my aunts chime in with a smile, "made it just this morning."

It's past midnight when we get back to our little apartment with Emma's dress hanging off my arms, which Kevin doesn't hesitate to grab from my hold despite my protests. 

"It's fine dude," he flashes me a quick smile, albeit tired, and my heart does this weird little squeeze in my chest at his thoughtfulness. 

He's kind. Too kind. I really don't deserve someone like him. 

"I'm sorry," I say as we settle onto the small couch, shoulders fitted snugly against each other, "my family is kinda overwhelming."

"No no," Kevin looks over, edges of his lips curled up, "I actually love your family, you know."

My chest warms, "thanks."

There is a moment of silence that we enjoy, the day's events sinking into my bones. 

"Hey," he murmurs.

"Hm?"

My eyes slide over to catch his, dark pools glimmering with a certain softness that catches my attention. 

I bite my lip. It suddenly feels a little warm.

"What is it?" I ask, voice hoarse.

"Is oreo a sandwich?" 

I sit up so suddenly that I jostle him, "wait--what?"

He grins up at me with that little nose scrunch that I can't help but find endearing, "is oreo a sandwich?" I open my mouth to answer but he beats me to it, "is cereal a soup?"

"Stop."

Reclining back to lace his hands at the back of his head, he says, "is ketchup a smoothie?" 

"Stop it."

"What about hotdogs? Are they sandwiches?" He continues in a singsong voice and rolling my eyes, I make a move to punch him once more. But he's faster, hand shooting out to hold my wrists. He pulls me over and I stumble, knee pressing against the side of his leg. 

"Come on. Answer it," he wriggles his eyebrows.

"Nope."

“Don’t be a party pooper.” 

“You’re so annoying.” 

"Are you sick of me yet?" His face is so close that I notice the creases at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

"That's an understatement."

"But really, do you think oreo is a sandwich?"

"No! Oreos are just oreos!"

“You’re no fun,” He pouts before finally releasing his hold. I draw back with a roll of my eyes, settling beside him once more and pillowing my head onto his shoulder.

Emma’s right. Kevin had sacrificed so much to be here with me, and he doesn’t even know Emma. Yet, he immediately dropped everything so that he could be my plus one, so that I wouldn’t have to face the music alone. The thought makes my heart swell with emotion and suddenly I’m all too aware of his presence beside me. 

I shift to gaze at him, eyes tracing the curve of his nose, the indent above his lips before I whisper, “hey Kevin.” 

“Hm?” 

“Why’d you come?” 

His eyes flicker over to mine then. A heartbeat passes. For a moment, I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat suddenly throbbing a little too loudly in my chest. 

“Good question.” 

Another pause. 

“That’s not an answer,” I laugh slightly, to show that it’s all just fun and games.

But when I catch his eyes next, there’s something else brimming in them. They’re tender with emotion and it catches me so off guard that I almost don’t catch his next set of words:

“Because I care about you.” 

My heart gives a quick lurch but I somehow can’t tear my gaze away. I want to say something. Anything. 

But all I can muster is a soft, “oh.” 

“Why do you ask?” he asks, voice hoarse.

I hesitate, “Emma asked why. And...I guess I wanted to know too.” 

“Oh.” 

The air feels heavy, heightened with the things that are threatening to slip off the edge of my tongue. A mixed series of ‘but why’s and ‘can’t you tell me more’ jumbling up my thoughts with so many possibilities that I decide to stay quiet for the sake of not ruining the moment. Because there’s this lingering fear that once I do say something, then it’ll just pull me down a rabbit hole that I can’t crawl out of, that the only escape lies on the other side.

And I don’t know if I want to take that leap yet. My heart is already so fragile with the aftermath of a love that went wrong. I don’t know how much more I can take. 

So I just stay quiet and let out a soft sigh, and though Kevin shifts as if he wants to say something, he doesn’t. The question just hangs there between us, in-between the slithers of moonlight and in the cold Moka air, like a perpetual ghost we ignore as we drift off to sleep.

----------

Something shifts between us after that. It’s unspoken of, but suddenly, I am all too aware of Kevin as a whole. Things that I hadn’t noticed before surface as we spend most of our free time visiting the rest of the island; like how he loves ruffling his hair whenever he feels uncomfortable, or the way his bicep curls as his arm drapes over the wheel with the barest hint of muscle that is enough to be attractive yet subtle, or how he smirks in that attractive way of his whenever he thinks something is undeniably adorable. 

The good thing about having Kevin is that I don’t get to think of him all too much, which is a blessing in itself. It’s been days since I’ve shed another tear and for that, I have to say I’m glad that I’m making progress.

We spent the last few days before the wedding traveling around the island to visit all the touristy spots that I know Kevin will enjoy, like a hike all the way to the top of Le Morne mountain, where I explain that’s where slaves would throw themselves off when their masters would find them. We visited Bois Cheri, a tea-making factory where Kevin had the pleasure of tasting all different kinds of teas cultivated in the fields below, and ate lunch on the Caudan Waterfront as we gazed at the boats lulling along the harbour. 

“Woah, this place makes me feel like I’m in Aladdin somehow,” Kevin’s mouth is wide agape as his eyes try to take in the endless racks of stands selling fresh fruits and vegetables of the day. The Port-Louis Bazaar has always been one of my favourite places to visit, but it’s also one of the busiest. Even now as we attempt to squeeze our way through, people are jostling us here and there, causing me to press my bag to my chest in case any pickpockets are nearby. I prompt Kevin to do the same. 

“Hey Y/N, I wanna check out the bags over there,” Kevin motions towards the hand-woven baskets situated at the far end of the market and I nod as we keep moving forward with the crowd like a pair of salmons trying to swim upstream. But there’s so many people, it’s so suffocating that it gets hard to keep up with Kevin’s figure. Someone elbows my shoulder and I groan, stumbling to the side in irritation, only to get pushed forward by another. 

“Seriously--” I curse under my breath, when a hand suddenly appears before my eyes.

Looking up to see Kevin’s outstretched arm, I am only greeted with his bashful smile and averted eyes. 

“Come on,” he doesn’t even wait for my consent before slipping his palm over my own and tugging me along, his hold firm and strong despite his skinny frame and the action is enough to render a flurry of butterflies soaring over my stomach. 

Stop, I try telling my subconscious. That does nothing, however, to stop my neck from tingling with unfamiliar heat. 

Kevin’s hand feels so warm. It’s comfortable, safe. 

And I’m liking it a little too much.

He doesn’t let go when we reach the desired stand and talk over which bag looks the best and keeps his hand in mine for the entirety of our journey back to the car. Only when I unlock the doors that his palm finally drops from my hold and air rushes over my palm that is now a little too cold without his warmth. But while a multitude of questions are burning the back of my throat, they fall apart halfway through at the thought of his answer, before I decide to drop it altogether. 

Kevin, on the other hand, doesn’t seem the least bit affected. 

When the day of the wedding finally rolls around, I drive my car to Emma’s after a quick breakfast that Kevin surprised me with -- to my surprise, he’d managed to make a decent eggs and toast without burning the place down -- so that I can help her get into her gown and more importantly so that she doesn’t run away, lest her mind goes in a frenzy at the thought of tying the knot. 

“You’ll be fine,” I reassure her, teasing a few of her curls so that they slip down to her chest in a perfect wave. She looks stunningly beautiful, with her strapless white dress that shimmers with diamonds in the light with every movement she makes. 

I reach out to smooth over her veil so that it falls on either side of her face, frames her perfectly, and notice her big brown eyes staring back at me through her vanity mirror. 

“You look beautiful,” I can’t keep the awe from my voice. 

Her face blossoms into a smile, “you too.” 

“Ah come on, you can’t say that to me on your wedding day,” I shove her playfully on the shoulder, “you’re the star of the show. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.” 

“Okay mom,” she rolls her eyes before changing the subject, “So, how have things been? With Kevin?” My hands freeze in mid-action, “It’s good.” 

I don’t have to look at her to know that she’s giving me a pointed look.

I sigh, “well, okay. Maybe you’re right. About the whole…’just friends’ thing not being true.” 

“Why?” she straightens up, turns to me, “what happened? Did you kiss? Did he make a move--” 

“No we didn’t kiss,” I’m quick to answer as my cheeks heat up. And after a few beats of hesitation, I give her a summary; the way he’d looked at me that night with eyes that held so much in them that it had made my chest swell, the way that he’d snitch glances at me whenever he thought I wasn’t paying attention, and the fact that he’d grabbed my hand and didn’t let go even long after the crowd wasn’t an issue anymore. 

Emma’s eyes are wide and sparkling with a feeling that I know all too well, I can practically see the cogs turning in her head and quickly shook mine in rapid retaliation, “Emma, no.” 

“But--But he’s perfect for you!” she bellows in protest, “What do you mean ‘no’?!” 

“I can’t go there. Not after,...not now, it’s too soon…” 

She rolls her eyes, “it’s not like he’s asking you to marry him, christ’s sake. He likes you, and I feel like you’re only trying to deprive yourself because you feel like it’s not right.” 

“It’s not right--”

“Who says so?” she cuts me off then, her gaze hardening on mine with such intensity it takes everything in me not to flinch back, “who says it’s not right? It doesn’t matter if it’s after two days, two weeks, two months. You think I don’t know how it feels to be heartbroken? You can’t just keep thinking about the past. You’re going to hurt yourself that way.” 

My teeth sink down onto my lower lip, her words like ice-cold knives aimed straight at my chest. 

“What you can control, right now, is the present, Y/N.” 

“I know,” I mumble out half-heartedly.

“I can see it, you know, the way he looks at you,” she shakes her head, “even if you don’t like him back, you gotta be aware of all that he’s done for you.” 

Her hands find their way to mine, enclosing them in her grasp before squeezing them with such care that I can’t stop the tears crawling up the back of my throat. 

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs next, “I don’t want to pressure you if that’s not how you feel. That--That was not my intention,” her eyes latch onto mine, filled with understanding, “I just want you to be happy.” 

Happy. 

That’s a word I haven’t heard in a long time. 

“Don’t you dare cry now,” Emma says while waving her hands around in warning, “you’re going to ruin your makeup and we definitely don’t want that.” 

I sniffle, trying my best to hold in the tears now brimming through my eyes, “you’re right,” I attempt to smile, albeit it’s wobbly, “we don’t.” 

“Come here,” she tugs my arm so that I fall into her embrace. Her head finds her way to my shoulder and she hugs me tight, not caring that her veil is getting all bunched up and wrinkled, “you’ll be okay,” she whispers, one hand stroking my back, “you’ll be just fine, little one.” 

Then, pulling back and pushing a few strands away from my face, she flashes a bright smile, “we should probably head to the church soon.” 

----------

“We now declare you, Vincent and Emma, as husband and wife.” 

The church explodes in a round of applause and I join in the clapping, furiously trying to keep the tears of joy at bay. Vincent has been there for Emma ever since they met at work and it has been the most beautiful love story ever since; filled with the purest kind of love no one can imagine. Beside me, I feel Kevin’s hand coming to squeeze my shoulder in a reassuring manner and I feel warm all over despite the rush of emotion in my heart. 

The wedding reception is to take place at a fancy restaurant overlooking the harbourfront. Our family has booked the venue for the evening, and as I enter, I take in the baby blue veils that come down each corner of the restaurant, sprinkles of glitter here and there as we make our way to our assigned tables that each have a baby blue napkin shaped in swans. 

I don’t even have time to place my butt down when I hear a voice call out, “Y/N! Look how big you’ve gotten!” 

Of course, big wedding ceremonies only mean that we get to meet all of our extended family that we haven’t seen since forever, and they’re all too happy to chat with me about living overseas. Soon enough, I’m bustled off to a table and look back over my shoulder to mouth a quick “I’m sorry” to Kevin. Bless his soul, for he only smiles and shakes his head, his hand motioning for me to go on.

I manage to catch up with cousins I haven’t seen since I was a little girl, talk over appetizers with excited aunts who want to know all about how it feels like to live away from family for such a long time, and nod along to the old uncles trying to get me to give a concrete answer about when and where will my wedding take place. 

“Come on Y/N! You’re the next one after Emma for sure,” one of my uncles bellow, face flushed red as a result of the glasses of wine he has downed like water. He is Emma’s father, no surprise that he’ll want to get drunk from happiness and pride. It is his daughter’s wedding after all. 

He leans close with a conspiratorial look in his eyes, “so tell me,” his eyes glance over to Kevin, currently deep in conversation with another one of my distant aunts. I watch as he says something to make her laugh, and something inside my chest warms at the action, “is he the lucky guy that’s going to ask for your hand?” 

“Do you think he’s the one?” another uncle pipes up. 

I purse my lips and attempt to shrug, “it’s early days,” I try laughing it off although it sounds forced, “who knows what can happen.” 

“He’s a good kid,” an aunt says, “you know how we all have this sixth sense? Well Y/N, I have a good feeling about this young man. Don’t let him go. Something tells me he’s a keeper.” 

A wild imaginative speculation, considering that we’re not even dating. But I nod along and say that yes, I’ll tell them whenever I decide to tie the knot.

It’s only when the dance floor opens and people start pooling onto the dance floor after the first dance -- led by no other than the bride and groom themselves -- that I finally allow myself to breathe. I find my way back to my chair, back to Kevin’s warm smile flashing in my direction as his eyes take in the fatigue lining my face. 

“You look like you could use a drink,” is the first thing he tells me the moment I plop my butt onto my designed seat, the one that’s been kept cold ever since I stepped foot into the dining hall. 

I gratefully accept the glass of wine he offers me, swallowing it down in a few gulps, “thanks,” I sigh with relief, “I needed that.” 

“How was catching up with family?” 

“It couldn’t be as bad as being left behind,” I peer over at him, guilt flooding me at the prospect of having left him all alone, “sorry. It’s just that everyone--” 

“Oh stop that,” Kevin nudges my shoulder with his, “don’t be sorry. It’s totally normal. I’m happy for you. And I wasn’t left behind. I had a wonderful time talking to your aunt. She seemed so happy to tell me what your childhood was like.”

“Bet you liked that, didn’t you?” 

“Hey, it works as blackmail. Why wouldn’t I like that?” 

“Dork.” 

“You’re friends with this dork.” 

“Oh piss off,” I slap his shoulder playfully in retaliation, causing him to laugh softly as we watch couples glide across the dance floor like swans over water. The lights have dimmed, the yellow hues now replaced by soft cool blues and purples that cause Emma’s dress to shimmer every time she turns. She’s absolutely stunningly beautiful, and the way she and Vincent are gazing at each other just scream of pure love that wraps around them in a golden mist so enchantingly beautiful that I find myself catching my breath in the back of my throat. 

“She’s so beautiful,” the words fall from my mouth without meaning to, and I feel Kevin’s eyes on my face from the corner of my peripheral.

“You are too.” 

I bite my lip and narrow my eyes at him playfully, “thanks, but why do I have a feeling that this isn’t a compliment?” 

“It isn’t,” he holds my gaze, “it’s just the truth.” 

Emotion lodges at the back of my throat. I stare at him. He stares back, a glimmer of tenderness echoing through the dark pools of black, his whole expression relaxed into a face that appears flooded with affection for--

Me. 

For some reason, no words seem to come to me as I open my mouth and close it. Embarrassment slowly bubbles through my stomach. I look away, unable to contain the goosebumps suddenly exploding across the back of my neck with that same familiar uncomfortable sensation I keep getting around him these days. Like I’m standing atop a cliff and preparing myself to jump.

“Wanna dance?” 

I blink in surprise, before turning to the said young man beside me who has his head cocked to the side with that same expression. My heart can’t help but squeeze inside my chest before I push down the rising protest searing through my brain. 

I nod. And off we go onto the dance floor. His hands settle on my waist, mine atop his shoulders in a casual sling. There’s enough distance between our bodies to show that we’re not together and yet, I can’t deny that electrical tension that keeps on pulling me towards Kevin like a magnet. I wonder if he feels it too, that searing heat that is so palpable I can feel sweat break out from the back of my neck. Asking, though, would mean that I’m aware of what’s happening, asking would imply that I want something to happen.

Maybe I do. 

Maybe I do want to grab life by the reins myself and steer it wherever I want it to go. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

I blink. Right up into Kevin’s brown orbs, his hair catching the shades of blue from the disco balls. My throat runs dry. 

“Uh--” my mind tries to scramble for a response, any response, “just--uhm, it’s kind of like our last day here.” 

He cocks his head, “sad?” 

“Kinda. I like it here,” my eyes brush over Emma and Vincent’s forms in the vicinity, catch my grandma sitting at one of the tables, little cousins running all over the place. Then, I look back at the said young man gazing at me with that undecipherable look in his eyes that makes my heart sing, and try not to squirm as I continue softly, “it feels like home.” 

“We can always come back,” he uses ‘we’ as though it’s now an adventure kept between the two of us, a secret to our own little neverland that nobody knows about. I can’t help but smile at the thought. 

“Do you want to come back?” I ask.

“Are you kidding? Hell yeah I want to come back. The views are amazing, the food is out of this world, and your family has been really kind to me.” 

“I’m sorry, they are kind of overbearing when you first get to know them.” 

“I love it,” Kevin says seriously, “I love that they’re overbearing. Couldn’t have asked for anything more.” 

If I had any doubts, the sincerity dripping from his eyes is enough to wipe out any suspicions left from his compliment. The sudden urge to hug him rocks through me and my hands fist on the back of his shirt in response. 

We keep on dancing silently, bobbing from one foot to another for a few minutes more before he speaks up softly. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hm?” 

“I wouldn't mind getting married here.” 

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise, “really now?” 

“Yup,” he grins, “really.” 

“Your future wife will have me to thank for that.” 

“Maybe my future wife won’t have to thank you.” 

There it is. That same borderline flirting that’s been happening for days on end. 

“And why is that?” I probe, partly just to tease him, and partly because I just want to know.

“Maybe she might be right here, in this room.” 

“Didn’t know you were into one of my cousins,” I start looking around the room, only for one of his hands to cup my cheek to turn my face back to his. 

There is none of that teasing glimmer now. His eyes are darker, gazing down at me with such emotion that the breath catches in the back of my throat and the air halts in my lungs. We gaze at each other for a few beats longer, before I feel his thumb graze my cheek. Gently, so gently like he’d stroke a flower petal. 

Swallowing at the heat of his hand cupping the side of my face, my hands unconsciously tighten on the back of his neck. He senses my nervousness, but only pulls me slightly closer so that we are mere millimeters from each other, noses hovering over each other in a space that causes my heart to stutter inside my chest. 

When he opens his mouth next, his alto is hoarse, pent-up with emotion. 

“I wasn’t talking about your cousins.” 

My heart practically jumps to my throat, teeth biting onto my lip. 

I can’t hear the music, nor the people. I can’t hear anything except for my pounding heart and Kevin’s soft breaths washing over my face. 

His eyes search mine and we hold gazes for a moment too long.

“Y/N?” 

I press my lips together, “Y-Yes?” 

He moves even closer then so that his nose brushes mine in the most intimate of ways. 

“I--” 

“Y/N! I was looking all over for you!” 

We spring apart like we just got burnt just in time for one of my cousins to grab onto my arm. He sends an apologetic smile at Kevin, before explaining, “we just need to sort out the takeaways. She’ll be back in a second!” 

And without listening to my protests, he proceeds to drag me away from the said young man on the dancefloor. I look back, mouthing an ‘I’m sorry” once more -- it’s the second time that night!-- and see the raven-haired man laugh good-naturedly before shaking his head and waving me away. That does nothing to keep my heart from cartwheeling out of my chest, swelling up with such affection that I grin back despite the earlier predicament. 

One thing’s for sure: I’m not done talking with Kevin Moon yet. 

----------

I find him sitting alone in the tiny garden that overlooks the decorated pavillon a few hours later. His figure, illuminated by the soft yellow hues of interior light, seems to glow in the dark, the moon bouncing off his hair and catching the strength of his cheekbone when he turns and catches me staring. He only smiles though -- that beautiful tender smile that I keep seeing more and more these days -- before waving me over. 

“What are you doing out here all alone?” I ask as I reach his figure. A soft breeze dances along the back of my spine, cool in contrast to the warm stickiness of the air. 

“Your smaller cousin was showing me what she’d learnt in astronomy at her school,” he tilts his head up at the sky, “she’s quite the prodigy at that.” 

“The next woman to land on the moon,” I joke.

“Jeez, I should get her autograph.” 

“Wise idea,” that’s when I feel his hand slip into mine and I look down at him, blinking. He grins a little shyly, before tugging me forward so that I all but stumble right into him, halfway sprawled across his lap. 

Heat explodes through my chest at the proximity of our bodies and I can’t help but avert my gaze from his, partly embarrassed that maybe there might be someone around to see, and partly because it’s only recently that I’ve started seeing Kevin in a new light that being so close makes my heart choke up and my mind to run blank. 

We’re close. So close I feel his breath mingle with mine. My hands settle atop his chest lightly, “Kev,” I breathe out but nothing follows, too scared to verbally voice out what is going on for fear that it might all crumble into nothing. 

I don’t want false hope. I also don’t want his heart -- or mine -- to break. 

This friendship is too precious to let go. I can’t imagine a life without Kevin in it.

“Listen Y/N,” Kevin’s voice is soft, a hushed murmur resonating through his chest as his eyes search mine, “I think we both know what’s happening here.” 

I nod mutely. 

Taking a shaky breath, he continues, “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt you. I know it’s been tough and that you’re still healing. I just--I just want to know.” 

As his words wash over me as gently as the forest leaves rustling around us, I feel the warmth of his hand cupping my cheek, holding me like I am fine china and stroking my skin with his thumb so that butterflies suddenly rush along my middle.

I bite my lip so hard I can taste blood, " I-- well, I think you already know how I feel."

"I know," he breathes, "but I need to hear it from you."

As if it isn't hard enough to come face to face with my own feelings, having Kevin stare me down as though I put the moon in his sky makes me want to squirm with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. 

“I like you,” I blurt out then, “a lot.” 

There is a few seconds delay, before a shit-- eating grin --the biggest I’ve ever seen -- spreads across Kevin’s face like sunshine peeking through the clouds.

“Enough for us to go on a date?”

I nod mutely. I don’t trust my voice, not right now when I already feel so pathetic. Kevin’s grin softens into a tender smile, one that I can’t help but return when our eyes meet in the most intimate of ways. Suddenly, the air feels charged and alive with electricity, the heat between our bodies palpable as his hand moves to the back of my neck. 

He tugs. I follow. 

His lips find mine mid-way in a delicate kiss. 

It’s soft. Softer than any kiss I’ve ever had. Kevin’s mouth parts over my own in a gentle caress, before he tilts his head to the side and captures my lower lip between his. 

I gasp slightly at the contact, hands unconsciously tightening around his neck. 

Slowly leaning away, I notice the film of lust like a dull glow at the back of his maroon orbs, just the slightest hint that he wants me as a woman. And that makes my lungs constrict, air suddenly halting in the back of my throat.

My skin is prickling with the aftermath of his touch. I let out a soft breath before he covers my mouth with his once more and all thoughts fly out of my brain the moment he does. 

I don’t really know how long we spend outside, exchanging the softest of kisses underneath the moonlight, until I hear the soft exclamations of my family’s voices suggesting that it is time to head home. So I part from the said man and can’t help but blush at the lack of space between our bodies.

“We should probably head back,” I hate how wanton I sound, like I’ve just sprinted a mile when in truth I’ve been sitting in this very spot for the last hour.

He agrees and I descend from his lap, his hand subtly finding mine as we walk back to the wedding hall. 

Emma is still saying her goodbyes, her hair now dotted with glitter, probably from the decorations that my younger cousins took pleasure in bathing her in. Her face lights up as soon as she spots our entwined hands and I try not to meet her eyes for I know exactly the kind of smug look she'll be giving me. 

"Enjoyed the wedding?" She says as soon as we're within earshot.

"That must've been the best cake I've had in my life," Kevin lets out a dramatic sigh, "and that says something."

"Do I trust your taste buds though?" She teases.

"I'd be offended if you didn't," he gasped in mock offense, before they both break into playful chuckles.

As we exchange our goodbyes and Vincent engages Kevin in a conversation, Emma takes this chance to drag me to her side as she whispers, "so you gonna tell me the tea or am I going to have to extract it from you?"

I press my lips together as I try to control the heat searing through the back of my neck, "...we kissed."

She gasps, "No way! OH MY GOD! Are you guys a thing then?!" The answer is as clear as water on my face and she clamps a hand over her mouth, would've jumped up and down if she could've, "OH MY, OH MY GOD. I knew it! I just knew this was going to happen--"

"Shut up!" I hiss, scared that Kevin might overhear and think I'm a big fat tattle tale. My eyes quickly swivel over to his and I'm glad to find his head bent towards Vincent in concentration. 

"You need to tell me everything," Emma's eyes are sparkling, "like--as soon as you have some free time."

"You--" I send her a pointed look, then jerk my head at Vincent, "--need to tell me everything."

"Oh I will, don't worry."

"Anyway, I'll talk to you after your honeymoon."

"Okay," I turn around to find Kevin, not failing to notice the smirk playing on Emma's lips. I slap her arm in response, causing her to laugh before she calls out: 

"Don't forget to use protection!"

-----------

"We'll come back right?"

That's the first thing that Kevin states as soon as we step inside security, away from the tears of my family that I just left behind a few seconds ago. My heart still aches when I think of their faces, all crumpled and blinking at me with tissues in hand and noses as red as traffic lights. But I seek comfort upon feeling Kevin's hand slip through mine as we walk towards our destined gate. 

"Sure," I look at him; at his red-tinted cheeks (probably the aftermath of a sunburn), his newly tanned skin a fresh contrast against his white shirt, and the permanent grin that seems impossible to wipe off his face. My heart instantly flutters.

It's only been a few days since we've confessed our growing romantic interest in each other, but I can already feel the weight of his love pouring out of his heart and into mine the moment he realized that my arms would be there to catch him when he fell.

"I'm not going to wake up to an empty bed tomorrow morning, am I?" He’d joked when we stumbled, half-asleep, into Emma's flat after the wedding. 

I frowned at him, "Why would you think that?"

"Just in case you think that kissing me was a mistake."

A small pause ensued, in which I realized that despite all my fears and all the pain I had been carrying in my heart ever since we landed on my motherland, I had not once considered how Kevin might be feeling at this very moment. 

My eyes quickly took note of his countenance, sweeping right up to his face only to notice the flash of vulnerability in his eyes, the way the corners of his mouth were tense, cheekbones taught against his skin as he awaited for my answer with baited breath. 

Clearing my throat, I whispered, "it wasn't."

A soft smile tugged at his lips, "good to know."

His answer seemed so genuine, so wholehearted that my chest tightened in a mixture of gratefulness and affection, so much so that my arms automatically reached for him to tug him close. My nose found its rightful place at his neck and I breathed in his comforting  lilac smell that I enjoyed so much.

I felt him take a breath. Then, softly, a hand caressed the back of my head. I buried even closer if that was possible.

"I really want this to work," my words were a muffled mess and I was surprised that he understood.

"Me too," he murmured into my hair, "and it will work. I promise I won't break your heart Y/N."

Looking back now at this tender moment in which we both weren't certain of where we were stepping, I can't help but laugh at the thought, for now the love and attraction is so natural I'm amazed it has taken this long to flourish. 

Maybe I hadn't been looking the right way. Maybe I had been searching so far out and wide that I hadn't noticed that my safe harbour is the one standing right beside me.

"Hey Kevin," I call out.

Kevin turns towards me, where he'd been watching planes take off from the ground into the gorgeously blue sunny sky.

"Yeah?" 

“I’m really glad you came.” 

There's a few beats of silence although his mouth immediately cracks into that gorgeous, crooked grin of his that I adore so much. 

“Me too.” 

----

[johnismyreason]

Hell on Earth (TWO) // KOH!TOMHOLLAND X HUMAN!READER

Summary: Tom, Prince of Hell and only heir to the throne, is sent to Earth by his parents as a punishment. He ends up in an odd city full of the worst humans, except one, who, despite not knowing who he truly is, decides to help him.

Note: Well, well, well... It’s been a while. I’m sorry but a lot of things happen and honestly I wasn’t in the mood to write anything. Anyways, I hope I didn’t loose everyone was reading the first part of this Koh!Tom series. Let me know what you thought and if you have ideas for next chapters. And send me an ask to be added to the taglist :) Love you ! 

words: 2.3k

Warnings: panic attack, cursing, fluff-ish?, bad english bc im french 

First part

Tom was so nervous. How the hell was he going to tell you where he is from. He doesn’t have much time to think about it, since you seat in front of him. “Here you go” you said, placing the tuna sandwich and a cup of coffee before his hands. Seating down, you create a slight draft, giving Tom the chance to breath your smell. Honey and apple. Not too sugary, not too strong but present enough to be under your spell for a spilt second. 

“Thank you” Tom said taking a bite in the sandwich. The taste of tuna on his tongue repulses him but he fakes a smile “’S really good” he lied his mouth full, before swallowing with a hard gulp. 

“I’m glad you like it” you smile back laying down a bit, your elbow on the table and your hand in a fist holding your chin. “So... what’s going on, Tom ?” the sound of his name on your lips makes it hard for him to concentrate. It almost sounds like a prayer or a blessing, instead of the curse he always heard when his father called him. 

“Right,” closing his eyes and shaking his head, Tom tried to regain his composure “Um, here’s the thing. I don’t have anywhere to go. My parents kind of kicked me out” You blinked a few times trying to process what he just said. You’re surprised and shocked, you didn’t expect that at all. 

“What ? W-why ?” you let your hand that was supporting your head, fall on the table, a few inches from his. 

“Uh...” now is the tricky part. Tom has to think fast but coherent. "I was not the best son” he confessed. By the confused look on your face, the prince of Hell understood that it wasn’t enough of an explanation “I- uh. I didn’t take my responsibilities seriously and partied too much. So I fucked up everything.” Tom felt shame thinking about the look on his parents’ faces before being banned. “Basically, if I want to come back home, I have to change. Like, everything about me must be changed” Tom let his head fall forward, to avoid your gaze. 

His head snapped back up when he felt your reassuring hand on his wrist, the veins of his heart loosened at the sight of your compassionate smile. 

“I’m sure not everything is good to put in the bin” you said softly. 

“How would you know ?” Tom almost whispered. “You don’t know me”

“I can see it. The good.” you replied pointing at his heart. “You’re just lost. You’ve done some mistakes, what about it ? A few of them doesn’t make you a bad person. We're not perfect. We’re just humans after all.”

“I’m not-” Tom cut himself from dropping his secret. But it hit him. We’re all humans. He’s human now. The loss of his powers, the bangs in his head after drinking the whole night away,... His parents made him human. Suddenly, Tom feels a rush of panic invading him. He starts looking around nervously, his palms become clammy and his madness takes control. Fuck, is what being human feels like ? Feeling weak and pathetic ? Succumbing to the unreasonable and to our every perfidious feelings ? 

“Tom ?” you brung him back, your eyebrows furrowed. “Is everything ok ?” 

The young boy’s wide opened eyes stare at you, scrutinising every detail of your face. Every stain, every barely formed line and indentation, every curve. Everything and anything that makes you... human. 

“No.” he blurbed out, by freeing himself from your hand, which until now had reassured him but now made him feel like a prisoner. “I gotta go...” and with that, Tom stood up abruptly and left the coffee shop. 

“Tom wait !” you tried to stop him, but he’s fast. 

Tom sets off into the city, looking for a way home at all costs, even though he knows it's impossible. He bumps into things and people who then insult him for not paying attention without apologizing. He wants to cross the street and run away. He gets off the pavement and takes two steps when a van runs into him. Surprised, Tom holds still until a hand grabs his arm and pulls him back, causing him to fall with the person who saved him. It was you. Is she always going to save my life like that ?

Lying next to each other and trying to come to your senses, your breasts rise and fall in rhythm with your twin breaths. You turn your head towards him, the asphalt slightly scratching your scalp. His face is still tense but it hasn't changed. He is still beautiful, elegant, almost mischievous. His curls fall backwards against the ground and you notice the touch of red in his reflections. My God, how beautiful he is.

“Do you often have panic attacks ?” Tom's face gradually relaxes at the sound of your voice. But what frees him from the anxiety monster inside of him, is your laughter. Your sweet giggle. He almost killed you both, but you're laughing. Lying on the floor in the filthy street next to him. 

“I’m so sorry...” 

“Don’t be” you replied getting up. You then hold your hand for him to take it. “Come on, let’s go home” you smiled, putting the almost tragic incident that just happened behind you. Tom takes your hand and pushes himself off the ground with your help. 

“Home ?” he asked confused without letting your hand go.

“Yeah, I mean at my place. You’re going to live there until you... um... change.” you pressed your lips in a tight but friendly smile accompanied by a small puff. That’s when he doesn’t understand anymore. 

“Why are you doing this for me ?” he asks sinking in the back of his chair. “You don’t know me, I could be a sociopath !” or the prince of Hell. 

“Well, First of all I don’t think that sociopaths know they are socipaths. And when they do, I also don’t think it’s something they want to scream everywhere.” you replied standing in front of him, your fists of your hips. “And two: It’s you who came to my shop and ask for my help. And it’s not like you have somewhere to crash, don’t you ?” you titled your head to the side as if you were playfully challenging him. Tom grinned a little, trying to hide his hint of embarrassment  “But if you prefer, we can always find you a piece of cardboard that we will set you up in a not too badly famed alleyway, you'll love it, it’s-”

“Ok, alright you won !” Tom cut you placing his palms in defeat. “Hell, are you always like that ?” he chuckled. You just smiled cheekily and shrugged your shoulders. You took his arm and started walking. 

You didn’t live far from the bakery, only 10 minutes walking, which was very pratical since, before going to the bakery, you followed classes at university and had to go change at your place before going to work. You led Tom to your appartment. The building was far from the ivory towers in which Tom had grown up. Yours was much more dilapidated, with a cold cigarette smell in the stairwell that you asked him not to pay attention to. Ms. McDougall had never learned good manners, and enjoyed smoking in the small lobby. 

After going up the three floors without a lift, of course, you stop in front of the door of your flat to open it. “I wasn’t expecting someone today, so please forgive me for the old tea cups in the kitchen... and the living. And probably in the bathroom.”

“The bathroom ?” repeated Tom. 

“Yeah. Don’t ask. I don’t have any excuse” you chuckled finding your keays at the bottom of your bag. “Ok. Here you go !” you invited him in with your arm extended so he can enter first. Tom thanked you before walking in, discovering your small but cozy place. 

There was a main room which served as kitchen, dining room and living room. The black sofa in front of the television looked comfortable and could be folded out to make a bed. There was also a coffee table with books for the university, the remote control, chocolates, a cherry blossom scented candle and two mugs. A garland of light framed the window overlooking the street. The neighbourhood was not pretty, but at least it was quiet. Just like the flat which was very cozy. Tom already felt good there. 

You took off your jacket and your bag and started to tidy up the room quickly. Tom looked at you with an amused smile. He looked how a few strands of hair fell on your face as you pick up the mugs out of the table and put them in the sink; and how your hands worked quickly to collect your books. 

“What do you study ?” Tom asked pointing to your books that you held close to your chest. 

“I am studying to become a nurse” you responded with a soft smile. “My finals are in three weeks.” 

“Oh, that’s a noble job” said Tom, immediatly regreting sounding condescendin. “I mean, it’s a great one ! Better than selling sandwiches and croissants.” When he saw your lips thightening and your eyes squinting, he held his hands in front of you, trying to catch back his mistake “No, I mean, working in a bakery is great, it’s just... being a nurse is better for you !” 

“How would you know what’s better for me ?” you teased. Tom felt his palms sweating and his cheeks redenning. You got him. 

Why does he react like that ? He was prince of Hell, and soon - hopefully - king, for fuck’s sake ! He’s used to people being affraid of him and his powers. Used to spill his venom on any creature, human or not, using harsh, insulting and degrading names, without the shadow of an ounce of embarrassment. That's what he did. To be the cursed prince of Hell. The beloved child of death and eternal torture. 

But with you it’s different. You are different. He feels deeply in his soul, that he would never use these words on you. You had a force on him that he couldn’t explain. 

“I-I... I don’t, yeah you’re right. Sorry, I didn’t want to-” he stopped when he heard your light giggle. 

“Tom, I was joking. I understood what you meant, I just wanted to mess you with. Selling sandwiches is great but it isn’t my professional perspective. Sorry for making you uncomfortable, that was dumb.”

“No, no, no ! It’s fine. It’s just a joke.” he puffed. What ?! In Hell, he would have sent the fool who dared messing up with him, in the worst session of torture of his entire eternity. 

You smiled to him before heading to your bedroom, throwing your books on your bed. You came back with a blanket and a very soft looking pillow. You then walked to the bathroom with a new toothbrush and clean towel. 

“My brother lived here for a while a couple of years ago and left clothes. You can take whatever you want, he’s not gonna come back.” 

“Where is he now ?” you felt a hiver running through your body at the thought of him. 

“I don’t know. Aaron never felt like he belongged in this society, that he had nothing to bring to the community. So he wanted to join the army. They know how to talk to kids who feel like him. Telling them that their lives will save thousands of others. I told him it would be the biggest mistake of his life, that he’s smart and talented but he didn’t want to hear anything. So he left one day, and I never saw him again.” It was the first time you talked about your brother in two years. You felt tears threatening to fall. “I don’t even know if he’s still alive.” you choked on the last word, unable to bear the very idea that he may no longer be of this world. 

Tom looked at you not knowing what to do. He tried to remember an Aaron who would have gone to hell. The Prince has the ability to know all the deaths that fall and the division of souls between heaven and hell. This means that he knows every name, story and sin that enters his kingdom. Unfortunately, without his powers on Earth, he cannot know whether his brother is alive or not. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he murmured before clearing his throat. “I’m sure he’ll come back one day.” You raised your head with a heart-rending smile, trying hard to hide your pain. 

“He’s in the past now. Let’s talk about something else.” You entered the kitchen, looking for something to eat, but you forgot to go to the grocery store today. Well, you didn’t really forgot, your plans just... changed a bit. “Um... I have nothing in my fridge and clearly I don’t want to grocery shopping right now, so is chinese take away is fine with you ?” 

“Perfect !” He never ate chinese food. 

“Great ! I’ll just call my favorite place after taking a shower” you said walking backwards to your bathroom. 

When Tom heard the water running, he fell on the couch dramtically. His legs spread and his right hand on his forhand he stared into the void, trying to process what happened those two last days. Him being banned from Hell for an indefinite period almost dead two times on the road, loosing his powers, and ending up living in an girl’s appartment. Tom sighed loudly, wondering how all of this could happen to the fucking prince of Hell. 

And now what ? 

________________________________________________________________

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[useless-catalanfacts]

Why is Pablo Hasel justifying and praising terrosist groups??

I’m not sure if you’re asking why Pablo Hasél is accused of praising terrorist groups or why he said what he said. So I’ll answer both things lol.

He got sentenced to jail because of different verses from his rap songs and some tweets. To be precise, the judges have considered that he published 64 tweets that were either against the Spanish monarchy (yes, “offense against the Crown” is a crime in Spain) or praising the armed organisations GRAPO and ETA. These are the tweets that caused more scandal:

“Los parásitos de los Borbones siguen de trapis con los decapitadores de los homosexuales”: “the Bourbon parasites are still doing business with the ones who decapitate homosexuals”

This is a reference to the fact that the Bourbon family (the dynasty of the Spanish monarchy) are, in fact, doing business and being friends with the monarchy of Saudi Arabia, where human rights are not respected at all.

It is a fact that Saudi Arabia condemns homosexuality as a crime: gay people caught for the first time are flogged or jailed and if the “offense” is repeated they are sentenced to death penalty (source). It’s also a fact that King Juan Carlos I has had a long friendship and business relation with the Al Saud dynasty. In 1979, the Saudi monarchy gave Juan Carlos I a yacht as a gift (which he accepted and used for his holidays for years), when the king Fahd of Saudi Arabia died in 2005 the president of Spain José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero (from the PSOE party) declared a national day of mourning for the Saudi king as was suggested to him by the Spanish monarchy, in 2008 king Juan Carlos I received 100 million euros from Saudi Arabia, in 2007 Juan Carlos gave Abdullah bin Abdulaziz Al Saud (brother of the current king of Saudi Arabia) the collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece (the highest chivalry honour that the King of Spain can give), in 2011 Juan Carlos intervened to the king of Saudi Arabia to get the contract of the high velocity train to Mecca (which is valued in 7,000 million dollars) assigned to a Spanish business, in 2019 the Panama papers revealed an offshore foundation that the Saudi monarchy had used to give the Spanish monarchy 100 million euros... Just a few examples that prove this relation. (Source). And now Juan Carlos I is living in the United Arab Emirates, another country with harsh punishments for homosexuality (among other human rights violations).

So Pablo Hasél was just stating the facts in that sentence.

“El mafioso de mierda del Rey dando lecciones desde un palacio”: “the fucking mafioso King giving lessons from a palace”

Given the many cases of corruption that the king has been involved in, as well as his intervention in the economy (such as profiting from big businesses that had profited from Franco’s dictatorship) and pressure in politics, it’s not so crazy to call him (and his family clan) a mafioso. In fact, the French TV news literally called Juan Carlos I a “gangster” once.

As for the “giving lessons from a palace”, that’s what he does in his Christmas speech or any other time he addresses the citizens, as if we all had it so easy as living and owning multiple palaces with hundreds of maids and not having to work while getting all kinds of luxuries payed for with public money. Not just Juan Carlos, Felipe VI is the same (remember when he went to Cuba to give them lessons on democracy, but then pretended everything was perfect in the visit to Saudi Arabia?).

Once again, Pablo Hasél was not being far from the truth.

“Guardia Civil torturando o disparando a emigrantes”: “the Civil Guard [Spanish military police force] torturing or shooting migrants”

The Civil Guard literally shoots rubber bullets at migrants who are trying to get on Spanish soil in Ceuta (source). By shooting them rubber bullets, the migrant people fall back on the water, and many drown. The Civil Guard murders and tortures migrants. And everything that takes place inside CIEs (migrant detention centers) can also be called torture with no doubt.

Again, these are facts.

Those were posts on social media, he has also been sentenced because of the lyrics of his songs. Here are some sentences from his song “Juan Carlos el Bobón” (the title is a pun with the words "Borbón”-Bourbon- and “bobo”-stupid-).

“Me cago en la marca España explotadora y casposa”: “the exploiter and braggart brand Spain can go fuck itself”

That’s self-explanatory. A personal opinion you can agree or disagree with, but given the things we’ve mentioned in this post and so many more, it’s perfectly understandable that he would feel like this. And he should be free to say it.

“Si Froilán se disparó en el pie siendo menor de edad igual ahora que es mayor de edad va a disparar a toda la Familia Real”: “if Froilán shot himself in the foot when he was underage, maybe now that he’s an adult he’ll shoot the whole Royal Family”

For those who don’t know, Froilán is the son of Infanta Elena, and so the nephew of the current king Philip VI. This line is a reference to 2012, when he was shooting in one of his parents’ possessions and he accidentally shot himself in the foot. It was illegal for him to be shooting in the first place, because Spanish law prohibits kids under 14 years of age to hold firearms, but of course nothing happened to his parents for doing illegal things because they’re the royal family.

Unsurprisingly, this line is considered “offense to the Crown”. It’s not a threat from Hasél, it’s just wishful thinking that I’m sure many people share.

And lines from other songs by Pablo Hasél:

“Siempre hay algún indigente despierto con quien comentar que se debe matar a Aznar”: “there’s always some homeless person awake with whom to talk about the need to kill Aznar”

José María Aznar was president of Spain between 1996 and 2004 with the right-wing party Partido Popular (PP). He was a shit president, during his presidency the labour rights decreased and left thousands of workers with way less protection than before, he focused a lot of his work as president on making the economy more neoliberal and left thousands of workers with unfair salaries and harsh working conditions by allowing the owners to fire and decrease pay at will. He also gave support to the USA in the occupation of Iraq, even when the population had been protesting against it (I was only 4 or 5 years old at the time and even I remember one of the general strikes against it).

“¡Merece que explote el coche de Patxi López!”: “Patxi López’s car deserves to explode”

“¡Que alguien clave un piolet en la cabeza a José Bono!”: “Someone stab an axe on José Bono’s head!”

“No me da pena tu tiro en la nuca, 'pepero'. Me da pena el que muere en una patera. No me da pena tu tiro en la nuca, 'socialisto'. Me da pena el que muere en un andamio”: “I’m not feeling sorry for the shot in the back of your neck, pepero [member of the PP party]. I feel sorry for the ones who die in dinghy boats. I don’t feel sorry for the shot in the back of your neck, socialisto [member of the PSOE party]. I feel sorry for the ones who die in a scaffold”.

“Prefiero grapos que guapos”: “I prefer GRAPOs to handsomes” (a pun). GRAPO was a communist and anti-imperialism armed organisation.

“Mi hermano entra en la sede del PP gritando ¡Gora ETA! A mí no me venden el cuento de quiénes son los malos, sólo pienso en matarlos”: “My brother goes in the PP’s headquarters shouting ‘Gora ETA!’. They won’t sell me the tale of who are the bad guys, I’m only thinking of killing them”

“Es un error no escuchar lo que canto, como Terra Lliure dejando vivo a Losantos”: “It’s a mistake to not listen to what I sing, like when Terra Lliure left Losantos alive”. Terra Lliure was a short-lived communist organisation that wanted to fight for the independence of the Catalan Countries through armed struggle. Jiménez Losantos is a fascist radio host who tells all kinds of lies and manipulates information to spread right-wingism, hatred towards national minorities, homophobia, etc.

“Los Grapo eran defensa propia ante el imperialismo y su crimen”: “GRAPO were self-defense against imperialism and its crime”.

“Quienes manejan los hilos merecen mil kilos de amonal”: “those who pull the strings deserve 1000 kg of ammonal”

“Pienso en balas que nucas de jueces nazis alcancen”: “I think of the bullets that would reach the nazi judges’ back of the necks”

None of these sentences are serious threats / plans at the moment. On the contrary, when the politicians he mentions make policies that directly cause deaths (of migrant people at the borders, suicides in migrant detention centers, of workers in their workplace, of people whose heat and gas is cut off or who are evicted, of women murdered by their husbands because they didn’t have anywhere to go for help, etc), now those are real crimes, aren’t they?

Pablo Hasél has been very vocal about being a communist. So I’ll copy-paste Friedrich Engels’ definition of “social murder”. I don’t know what Pablo had in mind when writing those lyrics but I think this fragments helps understand where he’s coming from.

When one individual inflicts bodily injury upon another such that death results, we call the deed manslaughter; when the assailant knew in advance that the injury would be fatal, we call his deed murder. But when society places hundreds of proletarians in such a position that they inevitably meet a too early and an unnatural death, one which is quite as much a death by violence as that by the sword or bullet; when it deprives thousands of the necessaries of life, places them under conditions in which they cannot live — forces them, through the strong arm of the law, to remain in such conditions until that death ensues which is the inevitable consequence — knows that these thousands of victims must perish, and yet permits these conditions to remain, its deed is murder just as surely as the deed of the single individual; disguised, malicious murder, murder against which none can defend himself, which does not seem what it is, because no man sees the murderer, because the death of the victim seems a natural one, since the offence is more one of omission than of commission. But murder it remains. (Engels, The Condition of the Working-Class in England, 1845)

So we can agree or disagree with Pablo Hasél and what he says or his way of saying it, but that doesn’t mean he should be jailed because of it. And it’s incredibly hypocritical to consider saying (not doing, just saying!) that “there’s always some homeless person to talk about the need to kill Aznar with” is violence, but to ignore that Aznar’s involvement in the Iraq helped kill thousands of civilians (for a lie, because Iraq did NOT have weapons of mass destruction!) and caused the misery and indirectly the death of so many workers.

If your question was why did Pablo Hasél say these things, I think two of the sentences we said sum it up:

“I’m not feeling sorry for the shot in the back of your neck, pepero [member of the PP party]. I feel sorry for the ones who die in dinghy boats. I don’t feel sorry for the shot in the back of your neck, socialisto [member of the PSOE party]. I feel sorry for the ones who die in a scaffold” and “GRAPO were self-defense against imperialism and its crime”. Pablo Hasél was highlighting how the current situation we live in is already violence. Violence inflicted by capitalism, imperialism and hatred, so he would consider his words self-defense.