#essentially i need to learn french

[pl0tty]

Jojo’s ABC’s of Drarry fic: a rec list of Drarry fics I love, sorted in alphabetical order!

26 fics ♡ 26 authors ♡ a good mix of smut, fluff, angst and plot ♡ enjoy!!

A — All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre (E, 29.4k)

All over London portraits are disappearing from their canvases.

Auror Harry! Expert-in-Magical-Art-Theory Draco! There's running, dancing, falling through ice, what’s this paper giraffe doing here? A great time was had by all.

B — Beneath the Wave by @moonflower-rose (E, 30k words)

Harry is done with a life in the spotlight. No more adventures, no more mortal peril. He wants a quiet life of food and friends, and family. He even manages to have it for a while, until suddenly there are giant rabbits that need ferrying to a mysterious island, and a handsome Draco Malfoy, and Harry's right back in the middle of the action again, despite his best efforts.

C — Come For Me by Frayach (E, 24.6k words)

After Draco is paralyzed in an accident, he and Harry discover a new way to make love.

D — Dwelling by aideomai (E, 83.3k words)

Curses, James and Lily Potter ride again, several Ministry balls, a teenage Summer of Love, a grim young adult dystopian winter, a few different Draco Malfoys, secrets and the problems re: not having any, alternate lives, impossible lives, real lives, allusions to Dirty Dancing, and just because it's not called the Mirror of Erised doesn't mean you shouldn't know better.

E — Embers by @shiftylinguini (E, 41.2k words)

Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice.

Of course it turns out to be bloody Potter.

F — freely, as men strive for right by @bixgirl1 (E, 17.1k words)

How can Harry love a man like Draco Malfoy?

If only Draco would let him count the ways.

(Sometimes, a happily-ever-after takes a bit longer than you expect.)

G — Going Postal (A 125-Page Comic) by dustmouth (T)

So Draco and Harry sort of maybe have a bit of a thing going. Which is all fine and good, but would probably be more effective if they managed to be on the same continent for more than five minutes at a time.

H — Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by waspabi (T, 93.3k words)

'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

I — I Do Not Love You by @writandromance (E, 228.2k words)

In 2013, a carefully-designed Obliviation leaves Harry reconfiguring his life and identity without any memories of true love; an act that's essentially erased Draco Malfoy from his mind despite a wedding band and shared home.

In 2000, Draco had expected Pansy's relationship with Luna to bring the Gryffindors a bit closer to his orbit of quiet, carefully pacifistic existence, but he never expected to navigate such a transparent embrace into a unit of family, friendship, and love.

A mystery, two love stories, and a reminder that learning to love never has an end date.

J — Je te reverrai by @soliblomst (E, 16.1k words)

When Beauxbatons visited Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, Draco managed to control his attraction to fourteen-year-old Harry Potter.

When Beauxbatons returns three years later for a cultural exchange, Draco's attraction to seventeen-year-old Harry Potter is impossible to curtail.

In his defence, Harry's perfectly tailored blue robes, mixed signals, and French accent do not help.

K — Keep your hands on me by @tenthousandyearsx (E, 21.4k words)

Malfoy binds himself with a sex curse. Harry cannot get enough (but would much prefer to keep Malfoy for himself).

L — Lusimeles by orphan_account (E, 23.2k words)

“You’re not special, Potter,” Kingsley informs him, not looking up from his work.

“But I’ve already done Occlumency training!” Harry splutters, indignant. “And it’s Malfoy.”

M — More Than That by joosetta (E, 10.9k words)

This is a story about two 52 year old men who refuse to age gracefully.

N — No One Ever Told Me by @slightweasel (M, 25.7k words)

Harry marries Draco to get him out of Azkaban.

Things get weird. And confusing. And then weird some more.

O — Our Objective Remains Unchanged by @citrusses (E, 46.1k words)

Harry Potter, returning member of the Oxford University Boat Club, has two goals for the spring of 2005: beat Cambridge, and beat Draco Malfoy. Perhaps not in that order.

P — Probationary Action by @toomuchplor (E, 63.3k words)

As part of the terms of the probationary contract, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY shall submit for inspection his WAND on the last day of every month, such inspection to be carried out by a duly registered and fully qualified AUROR in the employ of the MINISTRY OF MAGIC, and such inspection to include a PRIORI INCANTATEM spell to ensure that no PROHIBITED MAGICS as heretofore described have been practised by the aforementioned probationer.

Q — Quickie by @greaseonmymouth (E, 11.8k words)

Harry's 8th year is going okay: he's got a girlfriend, the future is far away, and he has no choices to make. And then Malfoy starts sending him dick pics.

R — Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu (E, 75.3 words)

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

S — Slithering by @astolat (E, 27.3k words)

Draco found the nest down in the Manor’s cellars, while he was clearing them out.

T — Tandem by @fastbrother (M, 90.8k words)

Harry and Draco meet by accident six years after the war. Harry's an Auror with a drinking problem and Draco's a broke student. Things don't work out well. Six years after that, Draco joins the British Auror Office as a Potioneer.

U — Untouched by @stratigraphywrites (E, 11.2k words)

"The magic demands a sacrifice," Malfoy said. "What kind of sacrifice?" Malfoy's mouth twisted grimly. "A virgin." Harry felt his eyes widen. "Killing one?" "No, of course not, Potter," Malfoy snapped. "Don't be macabre. Fucking one." Malfoy exhaled with bitter disappointment. "Fuck. Rules us out." Harry took a deep breath. His face felt hotter than ever. "It doesn't, actually."

Harry's had some terrible birthdays in his life. But this one - trapped in a cave with Draco Malfoy, and only one way out - has to take the cake.

V — Vis-à-Vis-à-Vis by @vukovich (E, 50k words)

Harry's assignment was simple. Close out Draco Malfoy's missing persons case so he can be declared dead.

But who's making withdrawals from Malfoy's vaults? How is a death omen-turned-Unspeakable involved? Is an organization known as the Moirai to blame?

Harry brushes it off until he can't. Until The Prophet is flooded with sightings of dead people. Until Robards throws himself on his sword. Until Ron turns on his own family. Until Harry scarcely trusts his own reflection in the mirror and trusts the stranger in his bed even less.

Until all that stands between war and peace is Harry, a name plate, a stadium of murderers, and Draco Malfoy.

God save the Ministry.

W — What’s Mine is Yours by @fluxweeed (E, 17k words)

Harry loses something important. Malfoy helps him get it back.

X — Ex Nihilo (And Other Feats of An Untrained Veela) by Kandakicksass (E, 129k words)

Ever since returning to Hogwarts, Harry has had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy, who exists at the bottom of the social ladder and is just trying to survive their "eighth year."

One veela presentation (and Harry's natural resistance to veela allure) changes all of that.

Y — Yours is the Earth (Hold On, Hold On) by chickenlivesinpumpkin (E, 127k words)

After a serious accident in the Forbidden Forest, Draco's personality begins to undergo subtle changes. At first, Harry credits this to a new enthusiasm for life. But as the days pass and Draco's behavior becomes more and more mysterious, Harry begins to suspect that something bigger--and darker--is at work.

Z — Zenith by @corvuscrowned (E, 20.6k words)

Desperate to find relief from worsening migraines and broken magic, Harry sets out to reach mystical hot springs that are said to grant healing and realignment.

The only problem? The springs lie deep within a cursed forest that lures hikers to their death by tempting them with their greatest desires.

So when Harry sees Draco Malfoy in the forest, he must be hallucinating.

Right?

Or: A hero’s journey but gay.

[bloomzone]

everything about my 2025 program

my dreams goals list is divide to 7 categories

- arc of studying

- arc of reading

- arc of solitude

- arc of education

- arc of aesthetic

- arc of health

- arc of joy

Arc of studying :

- i want to master all subjects in school with a focus on understanding rather than memorizing.

- create a weekly study schedule and stick to it I don't want to be messy

- i want to develop my weak subject by studying regularly on them in the week

- I'm not a "phone obsessed" typa of person i don't have social media app because ik they can ruin my life and my attention span too but I need to stop listening to music during studying and switch to brown,white .. noises

Arc of reading :

- i set a 100 books challenge because I want to comeback to my reading area

- keep a mini journal to reflect on lessons learned from books

- explore other genre of books like history and philosophy but my focus point is self help

Arc of solitude

- embrace quiet moments to recharge and reflect.

- as someone with a very very small circle I want to focus on going in solo date rather than waiting for someone to hangout with me

- i want to love myself more and be my own best friend

Arc of education:

- immerse myself in mandarin , italian more

- gain in-depth knowledge about other countries culture since one of my biggest dream is to travel the world

- subscribe more in pages that have a relation with humanities , literature and cultures

- I have 100 french essay ideas ，I'm going to challenge my self to write 1 everyday so I can develop my vocabulary more ( my dad idea :⁠,⁠-��) )

Arc of lifestyle aesthetic

- as someone who love home and my desk the most , the things that i need to develop and grow is the idea of clear room = clear mind

- even during busy time , i won't forget to tidy my room

- i want to enhance my room styling to deepen my affection for the space and be always motivated .

Arc of health :

- regular exercises and healthy eating are essential because eeevryyything depends on a good health

- i'm not a big fan of intense workout so stretch or pilates are my bff !

- put a reminder alarm to never forget my vitamins

Arc of joy

- as a person who gets stressed a lot i need to take care of my mind and spirit

- if I feel like my negative thought start eating me again I need to refresh my mind by a long walk , buying something meaningful , listening to my happiness detox playlist , watching my fav youtubers

- stay away from anything that reminds me of old negative memories

So to achieve these goals from the 9 categories I need to set small habits . I selected a few habits to turn it into a daily routine . i stared setting these small habits since the early days of december so rn they are sticking into my days :

1 . wake up at 5:20 am and stretch

2 . skincare and read 5 pages of my book

3 . morning journal and a duolingo session

4 . day planning

and others like eating vegetables , stay away from soda drinks and have a creative session evey 10 days and drink more water I need to work on them more

this make it 11 habits ! for this year.

📮 : fact box :

『 I was listing to an episode of huberman lab it talked about how when you're feeling lazy stuck or procrastinating the way to snap out of it isn't by doing something easy but actually by challenging yourself to do something harder than the task you're avoiding It might sound counterintuitive but this approach is rooted in the way dopamine works in our brains. you might procrastinate writing an essay and end up cleaning your room instead—something you’d usually avoid Cleaning feels easier than the thing you're avoiding so you do it Now imagine this instead of cleaning u do something even more challenging. Suddenly ur brain shifts gears, and you find it easier to return to the original task. Why? Because dopamine levels rise, and once that happens, you operate at a completely different energy level.It’s not just psychology—it’s biology at play. This little shift in mindset can completely change how u approach procrastination and productivity 』

@bloomzone 📇

[byers-bowlcut]

The Cyrano Trope & Byler

The byler painting lie is such a clear example of a literary trope where a character receives some form of courtship that makes them feel "in love", however the character does not know the true identity of WHO they got it from. 

This trope has a full fledged name called "Playing Cyrano". It comes from a famous french play from 1897 about a character named Cyrano, who felt that the love of his life, Roxane, would never love him back because he was not good looking enough. Still, he tries to find the courage to convey his love to Roxane through a love letter (think~ painting) and this is what happens: 

(link to full article)

Will is the one "playing Cyrano" here for El, as a means to make Mike happy, help Mike and El's relationship, and also to secretly convey his own feelings for Mike in the process. 

This trope very obviously ends with Roxane (Mike) falling for Cyrano (Will) upon learning the true identity behind the letters (painting/van speech). 

And it's also precisely why Mike makes the expressions he makes at Will in the van; why his eyes shine with awe, why he takes breathless gulps as Will speaks, the whole nine yards. 

I've spent a long time wondering why Finn Wolfhard acted the way he did in the van scene (the expressions he makes are VERY distinct and emotive, he was given clear acting directions for it), and this is the most concrete reason why: The writers/directors here were trying to show us how Mike is perceiving Will's gift and words, and what it's making Mike feel. The van scene is not ONLY about Will, but about Mike's feelings too!!!

Mike's expressions in the van scene clearly tell the audience that he feels like he's falling in love all over again. It's giving him hope for his relationship with El. It's making him forget about his insecurities with her, and making him feel needed and loved. 

And the obvious catch here is that it's all Will doing that. Not El. And that's the missing piece to how they're going to segue into byler in season 5. 

--------- 

Beyond Stranger Things, obviously the idea of 'Playing Cyrano' has been adapted for literally over a hundred of years, into hundreds of stories, cementing it as a trope in romance plotlines. Here are just a few other examples:

Ben and Beverly from It

Ben gives Beverly a poem, but she thinks it's from Bill and ends up with Bill in the first movie. In the second movie she learns who the poem is really from and rightfully ends up with Ben.

Olivia and Sebastian from She's the Man

Olivia quickly falls for Sebastian while reading a sheet of song lyrics he wrote. But she thinks the lyrics are written by his twin who is disguised as Sebastian at the time. She spends most of the movie chasing after his twin, but eventually finds out the truth and ends up with Sebastian. 

Ellie and Aster from The Half Of It

Ellie agrees to help a jock named Paul write letters to his crush Aster. Ellie is in love with Aster and communicates it through the letters under Paul's name. This helps Paul and Aster's relationship a lot and they begin to date. Eventually Aster finds out the real person behind the letters, which leads to Ellie and Aster ending up together.

I especially love how the Cyrano trope is used in this story, because it shows how easily the trope can be molded to fit the queer perspective: in the original, Cyrano believes his love will never be reciprocated because he's not attractive enough. While in the Half of It, Ellie believes her love will never be reciprocated because of her gender.

Otis and Maeve from Sex Education 

Otis plays Cyrano for Jackson who is hooking up with Maeve at the time. Otis is in love with Maeve and knows everything about her, and essentially meshes with her perfectly. But he's too insecure to confess to her. Meanwhile, Jackson doesn't mesh with Maeve super well, and gets Otis to play Cyrano (eg. Otis telling Jackson Maeve's favourite books) . Maeve and Jackson end things when she finds out the truth about Otis's involvement, and her/Otis are the main couple of this series. 

---------

Overall the moral behind Cyrano's story is about how love at first sight is foolish and that appearances are not the basis of true love. 

Reading about this trope struck me with the thought that maybe this is why the writers forcibly shoved El and Mike into the love at first sight trope— even when it doesn't totally fit Mike's behaviour or words in S1E2 (after he sees El the first time, he does not behave like someone "in love" at all and plans to send her away). 

In most cases of the Cyrano trope, the love that exists between the "wrong" pairing is mainly based off of physical appearance and cyrano's masked courtship. There is little else holding them together. So by writing Mike declare that it was "love at first sight", it makes me question the whole basis of his love for El and how superficial it might be. I mean sorry Mike, how did you know you loved her the moment you saw her? You didn't even know anything about her. Meanwhile there's an undeniable depth to byler's bond— their friendship deepened and evolved over the course of many years, and it's anything but superficial.

(Side note: this trope sometimes involves Cyrano actively aiding the other love interest -Christian/El- but sometimes does not. In byler's case it does not. Will does not directly plan with El to woo Mike, and instead uses her name to an unknowing Mike to help their relationship. This trope can be executed a million different ways, but the main point is: the one in Roxane's role doesn't know who is causing their feelings of love)

[ranoosh2024kh]

‏A Birthday Wish for Hope and Survival

‏Today is my birthday. While birthdays are usually a time for celebration, mine comes amid hardship and uncertainty. I am from Gaza, where life has become a daily struggle for survival.

‏The challenges we face here are unimaginable—lack of basic necessities, ongoing instability, and the constant weight of uncertainty about tomorrow. Despite everything, I hold onto hope, but hope alone is not enough.

‏This year, my birthday wish is not for gifts or a party. My wish is for support—support that can help me and my loved ones navigate these difficult times. Any contribution, no matter how small, can make a significant difference in securing food, medicine, and essentials that are becoming harder to find.

‏If you cannot donate, please consider sharing my story. Your kindness and generosity can bring light into a life overshadowed by hardship.

https://gofund.me/c1c641e5

‏Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Rana

 Vetted campaign by @90-ghost

@gaza-evacuation-funds

@fancysmudges @brokenbackmountain  @mothblossoms @aleciosun  @fluoresensitive @khizuo @lesbiandardevil

@camgirlpanopticon @baby-girl-aaron-dessner

@omegaversereloaded @punkitt-is-here @tamamita @skunkes @ot3 @valtsv @wolfertinger666 @paper-mario-wiki @chokulit @ankle-beez @pitbolshevik @neechees @memingursa @afro-elf @beserkjewel @feluka @i-am-a-fish @nyancrimew @spongebobssquarepant @sabertoothwalru @90-ghost @komsomolka @sawasawako @hotvampireadjacent @certifiedsexed @isuggestforcefem @3000s @pissvortex @prisonhannibal @apas-95 @vampiricvenus @turtletofan @marxism-transgenderism @beetledrink @bevsi @spacebeyonce @bonkcreat @11thsense @boobieteriat @sporesgalaxy @spitblaze @space-is-the-place2 @sar-soor @sayruq @sadhoc @sappho114 @sailor-plut @gallade-x-treme @palhelp @paleolatrans

@dirhwangdaseul @b0nkcreat @tamamita @chokulit @3000s @apas-95 @pitbolshevik @ot3 @punkitt-is-here @vampiricvenus @turtletoria @paper-mario-wiki @valtsv @omegaversereloaded @i-am-a-fish-stinks @catsgifsarefun @spongebobssquarepants @postanagramgenerator @feluka @nyancrimew @90-ghost @beserkerjewel @neechees @memingursa @certifiedsexed @afro-elf @11thsense @sawasawako @spacebeyonce @skipppppy @beetledrink @fools-and-perverts @dailyquests @evillesbianvillain @wolfertinger666 @taffybuns @ankle-beez @sabertoothwalrus @meshugenist @isuggestforcefem @hotvampireadjacent @marxism-transgenderism

My family and I desperately need your help to survive the war.

For 14 months, Gaza has been under relentless assault. We’ve lost not only our daily routines but also countless loved ones. Death looms over us every day. I used to hear people call Gaza “the largest prison in the world,” and it saddened me. But now, amidst this war, I find myself wishing for the security of a normal prison, as no prison on earth compares to the atrocities we endure. Gaza is being ravaged by genocide and the destruction of every aspect of life.

I spent four years studying English and French, driven by a deep passion for learning and teaching. I even had the opportunity to live in France for a year, where I taught Arabic to French students. Upon my return, I pursued a master’s degree in education, and my joy was immense when I graduated. My dreams grew brighter when I began working as a teacher in private schools and as a freelancer in translation and online education.

But everything changed in an instant when war broke out. The school where I worked was bombed, leaving me jobless. The constant blackouts and lack of reliable internet have destroyed my ability to work online. We have no stability or safety. My family and I are constantly fleeing from place to place, trying to escape death.

Can you imagine the heartbreak and despair of watching everything you worked so hard for crumble? I went from being a determined, hardworking person to someone who has lost nearly everything.

Yet, I refuse to give up. I am determined to rebuild my life, but I cannot do it alone. I need your help. A donation from you could allow me and my family to escape Gaza and seek safety in Egypt, where I can work again and pursue the dreams I once had.

You can be the light in this overwhelming darkness. Even the smallest contribution can make a profound difference. Every Euro you give is a step toward survival and hope. Please don’t hesitate to help—it means the world to us.

❤️🍉🍉

With heartfelt gratitude,

Rana

  Vetted campaign by @90-ghost

@gaza-evacuation-funds

@palestinegenocide @queerstudiesnatural @90-ghost @el-shab-hussein @northgazaupdates

@apollos-olives @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vakarians-babe @90-ghost @fairuzfan

@sar-soor @fallahifag @humanvoicebox @plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @international-network @nabulsi @mushroomjar

@palestine @communistchilchuck @northgazaupdates2 @ghost-and-a-half @kyra45 @the-bastard-king @feluka @sayruq

@chososhairbuns @commissions4aid-international @soon-palestine @palestinegenocide @kyra45-helping-others

[lunatic-pudge]

TF2 Mercs Green Flags (except it's very biased)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love my boys. Yes, this is biased and questionable. But this is meant to be cute and fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scout:

-Silly little goober, great person to be around when you need cheering up

-Golden retreiver boyfriend

-Can easily make you laugh without even trying

-Artsy fartsy

Pyro

-Cutie patootie who makes the cutest drawings of you two together

-Owns an Easy Bake Oven

-Master at baking, never-ending supply of sweets for you to indulge in

-Your biggest supporter. Would literally cheer for you if you rob a bank

Soldier

-Also your biggest supporter, will demand that other adore you as well

-Will let you own any pet you want no matter what the animal is

-Speeches of why you're the best thing to ever exist and how America is blessed to have such a beauty like you live there

-Will give you anything and everything you could ever want, like human ears. Definitely a good person to be if you like collecting weird stuff

Demo

-Precious baby boy is a major cuddle bug

-Def knows how to knit/crochet, will make you whatever you want

-Baby man likes learning about folklore/mythology

-He's essentially a big walking teddy bear. Perfect for cuddles, especially on a cold or rainy day

Heavy

-GIANT WALKING TEDDY BEAR

-Protective baby boy, big scary dog privleges

-Bookworm, can recommend a good book if you don't know what to read

-Perfect person to lay around and cuddle with, he can smother me any day. Dates at home are TOP TIER

Engie

-THE BEST PERSON TO GO TO WHEN YOU'RE HAVING AN OFF DAY HANDS DOWN

-Smart boy, can make you stuff that helps with day to day activities which is helpful if you can't do certain things to having a disability or something

-Dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, dad bod, can't get enough of it

-Voice of an angel, will sing for you if you'd like. Can def sing you to sleep

Medic

-NERD, he's an adorable nerd! Let him ramble about his hyperfixations!

-Def a good pet owner, would kill someone if they don't take proper care of their pets

-Would make sure you take care of yourself, he's kinda like a dad that cares

-He's such a maniac. I can see him just secretly being up to no good all the time. And he's also very girlypop

-Putting an extra for him cause I can: Medic boobs. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk

Sniper

-Sweet, precious baby boy who can do no wrong. He strikes me as someone who listens to EVERYTHING when it comes to music. He ain't genrephobic

-Also a collector of weird things. Likes making bone jewlery. Bone boy

-I just love the concept of him being feral? This is probably the weirdest thing on the list. Like there's the golden retreiver boyfriend (Scout), and then there's the feral boyfriend (Sniper). Literally acts like a cat, hiding away from people, hissing when people that aren't you tries to touch him, will demand attention/affection from you, ect. I need to make a more detailed idea of a feral boyfriend so work with me plz

-He would absolutely let you wear his clothes, thinking about how adorable you look. He'd do the same with your clothes if they're big enough for his lanky body. You two swap jackets in the winter time so you guys always have a piece of each other when you two are busy and aren't able to see each other

Spy

-I know a running joke is that Spy is a smelly French asshole, but I really do think that he wears some of the nicest smelling cologne out there. Expensive af colonge, but damn, it's addicting

-Smarty pants. Not just anyone can be a spy, it takes quite a bit of intellect for it. And not to mentions he knows multiple languages? Love it, even if I hate the French language with a burning passion

-Him having a good taste in fashion? He's gotta know what he's doing by wearing suits all the time. Not only does he look fresh af, but people always look so good in a suit, especially when it fits them. But please also picture him dressed in a more romantic goth aesthetic plz, okay I'll stop now

-Is good at paying attention to even the littlest of details about his partners. Even if you're trying to be cryptic or subtle about things, he'll always find out. He's def a protective type too

[cuteandhughesy]

“will you marry me?” wyatt johnston! maybe over the four nations break and they are just relaxing laying together in the sun and wyatt has planned to propose during the the perfect moment in the trip but cuddling and being so relaxed seems so perfect and he just asks so sleepy and he’s like i do have a ring it’s my bag

prompt no. 20: “will you marry me?”

wyatt had it all planned out. the trip was just the first step. you’ve always wanted to go to hawaii, it’s been your dream vacation since you and wyatt started dating in the 9th grade.

when he learned that he’d been free for an entire week during the four nations break, wyatt planned the trip, right under your nose. and he did it all himself too—booking flights while you ran into town, reserving a room in a glorious all inclusive resort while you were sleeping. wyatt even made sure that he booked it off at your work.

everything was going to be perfect—the perfect trip for wyatt to pop the big question. he’s known that you were the one since the day he met you. it was french class, freshman year of high school. he was already nervous with it being the first day at a big, new school, but then you walked in—bright smile, soft hair, yellow sundress paired with converse and smelling like peaches—wyatt knew he was screwed.

if you were around he couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of your breathing. the way you held your pencil and always scrunched your nose when you concentrated. it took him almost a month before he’s grew the balls to ask you on a date—a date to the movie theatres no less. much to his surprise, you agreed and the rest was history.

he picked out a ring january 1st. wyatt told himself he was just going to look—that there was no pressure in finding one—but then he saw it. the thin, dainty band in your preferred metal, with a big square diamond right in the middle. flashy but still delicate. that was the one.

the entire plane ride he was freaking out. going through his pre-planned itinerary while you were engrossed with watching barbie on the mini tv. he was going to propose on the final day of your trip—the day before getting back on a plane to come home. that way you wouldn’t see it coming.

he had pre-ordered big balloons and what felt like thousands of rose petals to the hotel. the event staff was going to set it all up on the beach while you were away eating your last dinner together. and it was going to be perfect.

but then today happened.

the sun was hot. the kind of hot that made you feel swollen and had you sweating after a few minutes. but you loved it. there’s a huge teal umbrella over the top half of your and wyatt’s sun bed. there was two beds, but you didn’t want to be on your own, you wanted to lounge right on top of your boyfriend like the clingy woman you are.

not that wyatt minded. your skin is sticky against his bare chest, hair tickling his neck as the beach wind catches your strands, blowing it softly. you still smell like peaches after all these years.

both your toes are coated in sand from the walk down to the water almost an hour ago, and your legs slide together in a sunscreen slippery exchange. you’re half asleep against him, soft breaths cascading across his chest.

this moment—only on the third day of you hawaii trip—was the perfect moment.

wyatt swallows, hand sliding up your back to softly gather your attention. his fingers slip under the string of your bikini, teasing you just enough for a public beach.

“marry me.”

you blink, lifting your head off wyatt’s chest to look at him properly. he’s not smiling and his eyes aren’t twinkling his amusement—only hopefulness —he’s not joking.

“what?”

“marry me.” he says again.

“are you being serious?” you question, voice thick with unshed emotion.

“deadly,” he grins lazily, hand darting into his backpack filled with all your beach essentials that you claimed you would need today. a beat passes before he’s emerging again, holding a square velvet box in between two fingers.

“will you marry me?” wyatt breathes, flicking open the box to reveal the most stunning ring. the sunshine catches the diamond, and your jaw falls slack. tears well in your eyes as you try and find the words, gaze darting between the ring and wyatt’s knowing face.

“yes,” you hum, leaning forward and pressing the hardest kiss against his lips than you can manage. “i’ll marry you.”

—

(unedited)

[richarlotte]

things to be involved with on campus?

Special Interest Groups. 

One of the things that helped me immensely when I first got onto campus was going to a bunch of events for the different clubs and groups my school hosts. I do French Club, Italian Club, Expat Society, and so many other fun things, and it’s all because I took the time to go out and connect with people. If you know no one, clubs and groups are going to be how you make your first friends, and they’re a great option if you don’t drink. I would strongly suggest reaching out, getting involved, trying new things, and seeing what works for you. Doing at least one extracurricular is essential when you’re in college, and being involved in things other than schoolwork will help you achieve your goals. Choose a club that interests you and go to a meeting.

Honors Societies. 

The better your grades, the more opportunities you’ll have. If your school has honor societies for students who make good grades, offers merit aid, or hands out better opportunities based on grades, you’ll want to make sure your grades are high. Some honor societies are also really nice; the ones on my campus host dinners and events, have cocktail hours and networking nights, and have direct lines to internships and prominent people in our city. I also think graduating with honors is a flex in itself; it shows a lot of motivation, it looks good on a diploma and better on a resume, and being in honor societies will give you access to more people, events, and opportunities.

Greek Life. 

I’m in Greek Life and it’s made a huge campus a lot smaller, it’s been a great experience, I live in the house and spend most of my life on the Row, it’s very fun and I’ve met some of my soulmates through my chapter, my social life and on campus life are bettered by being involved in Greek life, the networking opportunities and off campus experiences I’ve had due to my membership have been insane and the opportunities that have come from being a member of the house I’m in are fantastic. I’d recommend going through the process; it’s not that difficult to navigate, and you can always drop out. You’ll meet more people, you’ll have easier access to parties and a better social life, and it’s worth a shot if you want to live a certain life at school.

On-Campus Jobs and School Year Internships. 

I think it’s pretty important to begin laying down the foundation for your future while you’re still in college, and most people work small jobs, seek out internships, and network for better positions while in college. Gaining your independence, learning how to manage your time and money, and building your resume (and finding potential recommendation letter writers) should be a secondary priority of yours during this time. I know girls who work at bars, tutor, nanny, work at cafes and small shops, and who keep the libraries and offices at our school running. Whether you need to work or want to work, find an environment that you thrive in and that pays you well enough to enjoy work.

Richarlotte x

[ninyard]

The monsters and their ability to pick up languages is so interesting to me so here’s some random HCs about monsters + languages that are definitely not original at all:

- Neil learned French in Europe before him and Mary found their way to French-speaking Canada. He essentially had to semi-adopt the language discrepancies while he was there, and even though his fluency is in French from France, sometimes he messes up and pronounces things weirdly or differently (and Kevin frequently makes fun of him for it)

- Kevin has some rusty Japanese that he was forced to learn growing up. He can understand it pretty well, and can somewhat speak it to a lower level, but he can’t read or write it. He’s not fluent, and probably couldn’t hold a conversation with a native speaker, but he could understand his Japanese counterparts in the Nest when he needed to.

- In turn Kevin isn’t able to order in Japanese at a restaurant, but he could explain the rules of Exy to someone fairly coherently if he had to.

- This isn’t an original thought by any means but Neil and Kevin definitely speak in French when they’re by themselves just to make sure they don’t lose it.

- They sometimes make calls to each other on the court in French, and because of this, most of the team picks up very basic calls in French. None of them can actually speak it, but Andrew picks up a little more than the rest, having spent so much time with Kevin. Again, couldn’t hold a conversation, but every now and again he recognises certain words in their conversations.

- Neil is like a walking version of those White Guy Speaks Chinese And Stuns Waitress (he can understand her?!?) polyglot youTube videos. It becomes more of a hobby for him once he’s settled and the FBI are off his back, but the foxes are constantly shocked by how many languages he can speak. He is fluent in English, French, and German of course, with some conversational Spanish, but he can pretty much have a basic interaction in most of the languages of countries he’d been in. His Dutch is the worst, because he could never quite grasp the proper pronunciation of things, but one time he speaks to a waiter in Italian and Andrew can’t believe it.

- (RIP Neil Josten, you would’ve loved duolingo)

- When he goes to the Olympics he’s like a kid in a candy store. It’s like a subconscious bingo game for him to speak to someone from every country at least once.

- Aaron loves listening to music in German. He would definitely drag Nicky to a rave if they ever found themselves in Berlin.

- Katelyn asks him whenever they have their kid if he wants to raise them bilingual, but he decides not to because he only really learned German for Nicky and his brother, and doesn’t really speak it at all after he graduates.

- Neil and Nicky study Spanish together sometimes. It helps Nicky stay close to his roots now that his immediate family is pretty much out of the picture. It means way more to him than Neil even knows.

- Another unoriginal one but Andrew and Neil definitely do learn sign language in the future. I could talk about this one forever.

- When Kevin gets frustrated, he finds it hard to speak ANY language. He messes up words in English, forgets how to say things, and occasionally is the butt of the joke when he combines a French and English word accidentally.

- Kevin watches anime when nobody is around. He thinks dubbed anime is a crime.

- Andrew thinks he’s pretty good at German until he tries to have a conversation with Erik and realises wow native speakers talk a lot faster than we do. You wouldn’t know, because even if he just understands half of a sentence, he can usually piece together what is being said 90% of the time, and he would never admit out loud that he needs Erik to slow down when he’s talking so he can understand him.

- He is, however, REALLY good at accents. He has a talent for speaking gibberish but sounding as if he’s speaking fluent French. It drives Kevin up the wall when he does it, but he also hates when he can’t understand what Kevin and Neil are saying to each other.

And Bonus:

- Jeremy is really bad at accents. He is initially frustrated by Jean and his French, but once he understands that it is Jean’s first language (that the Moriyama’s took from him), he makes an effort to try and learn. He’s just really, really bad at it. Jean cringes every time he tries, because he speaks with a heavy American accent. Jean is not pretentious about his language, but he is, at the end of the day, French. So when Jeremy says bonjour in that hideous so-Cal accent, it’s in part endearing that he’s trying, but mostly like nails on a chalkboard.

[boundwithpurple]

hello! i was just wondering if you had any good recommendations for medieval history books, particularly ones that would be good for getting a grounding in the period. i really admire the amount of research you put into the historical aspects of your fanfiction, particularly in the consideration put into depictions of characters’ personal and sexual lives in their (fantasy) historical contexts, and was hoping to start trying to incorporate similar research elements into my own fantasy fiction. thank you! :) (& also your latest fic was so so good)

thank you for your kind words! i don’t have any recommendations for general overviews, but i can give an eclectic list of recently-ish read non-fiction about medieval europe that has personally inspired me, either about ways i can use it for asoiaf world building or for possible original fiction (both original fantasy worldbuilding and historical fiction). because it is me there is a heavy focus on gender and sexuality in these selections.

crossing borders: love between women in medieval french and arabic literatures, sahar amer

fragmentation and redemption: essays on gender and the human body in medieval religion, catherine walker bynum

the shape of sex: nonbinary gender from genesis to the renaissance, leah devun

in the skin of a beast: sovereignty and animality in medieval france, peggy mccracken

slaves and warriors in medieval britain and ireland, 800 -1200, david wyatt

same sex love and desire among women in the middle ages ed. francesca canadé sautman and pamela sheingorn

eleanor of acquitaine: lord and lady ed. bonnie wheeler and john c. parsons

in general i think it’s better to just dive into monographs on subjects you find interesting than very broad, general surveys. it’s ok if you don’t understand everything or feel occasionally out of your depth - you will learn something, and something worthwhile about whatever area you want to explore. you can take as much time as you like to pursue leads on things that confuse you and then return to the book. imo a tightly argued and narrowly focused academic work or collection of essays is a lot more bang for your buck (by which i mean valuable time) than a big survey published by a popular press, so that’s what i have to offer. then build from the references you find intriguing and the bibliography. you’ll learn a lot this way!

an example of how this work is i read the collection of walker essays and there is one that deals a lot with lactation in medieval mysticism, and this gave me a great grounding for some rhaenicent porn related to this (forthcoming) - thinking of how people conceived of physical motherhood and the gendered body and sustenance and need and its connection to the specific patriarchal structures of high medieval europe and its religious thought is a meaty way to approach the question of lesbian porn between these two women for whom motherhood (coerced to various degrees) is so essential and must be processed into their sexual landscapes in light of a dominant, pervasive religious framework. i think the general principle can work for original work as well. read curiously and it will just kind of come to you and make everything a bit richer and more alien.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hair-in-the-narrative question.

I know a lot of the asks you get are really long so I'll try to stick to the important details. I'll follow up with more context if you need it.

I have a Black character (fantasy French, trans female, early 20s) who has an arc about managing her anxiety disorder and gaining confidence in herself + learning to lean on her companions more. A significant moment in the arc is when she does a big chop as a way of committing to changing herself into the person she wants to be.

She has locs before this, and I'm anxious about it coming off as the locs being a bad thing. Especially since the idea I'm looking at right now involves her getting a new outfit that suits her better (outfit in the range of goth subculture btw) and then deciding to cut off the locs as a way of solidifying that transformation with something she can't chicken out of the next day.

Are there any particular concerns I should be keeping in mind?

The big chop is an often essential part of the natural journey! Also, 9/10, when you don't want locs anymore, you're gonna have to cut them off anyway. That's not inherently sacrilegious (well, it is for some groups but I assume your character doesn't follow those). Hell, I recently cut a lot of my length off (not full chop) because I was ready for change in my life and I was nervous and couldn't take it back... And I am far happier with my shorter hair. Literally like cutting the depression away.

So no, cutting her locs doesn't have to sound bad as long as you don't make the locs sound like the problem, but the emotions and the self-pressure that she feels to have them. 👍🏾 Hell, I've known people who cut their locs just to start the loc growing process over again. It's just about where you're at and what you need. Focus on that as the symbolism.

(plus, if it was that deep, she can just keep the locs until she feels comfortable throwing them away. Or, keep em and get em sewn back in. I've known folks who did that too 😅 I tossed mine. I'm committed.)

[rottenpumpkin13]

A long time ago, you received an ask about what languages the Firsts would like to learn. It went something like "Zack wants to learn Spanish because of -insert reason-" "Sephiroth wants to learn Latin totally not because of One Winged Angel" "Genesis wants to learn French to sound better than everybody". But the one I actually remember is Angeal:

Angeal: "If I had to learn another language, I would like to learn English, because nobody understands when I say to PUT. YOUR DISHES. IN THE DISHWASHER. PUTTING THEM ON THE COUNTER BY THE SINK DOES NOTHING."

I would like to counter this response by saying I put all the dishes neatly in the dishwasher for years until a new member of my family straight up refused to learn how to do it right. If the bowls aren't balanced the right way, they won't get washed. If you put things in the wrong location, you waste a lot of useful space. But this man flat out said "I refuse to learn how to do this right because I don't care".

So out of SPITE, dishes now sit on the kitchen counter because I refuse to be bothered when no one else gives a shit. What does Angeal think about this if this is something one of his fellow Firsts did?

Angeal may try to project an image of humility and honor, but he combats petty with petty. If he realizes people who have the privilege of owning a dishwasher are being disorderly out of spite, he'll do things to be even pettier. This includes:

• One time he witnessed Sephiroth dump a perfectly good mug of coffee down the drain, and made it his personal mission to mess with him. Over a month, he methodically swapped all of Sephiroth's coffee with decaf and watched Sephiroth slowly descend into madness.

• When Genesis couldn't be bothered to wash his dishes in the break room, Angeal turned it into an art show. He'd collect the dirty dishes and created elaborate display outside Genesis' office, complete with angallery-style label like "Exhibit 17: A Study in Neglected Responsibilities"

• Changed all the settings on Zack's computer so it would autocorrect "SOLDIER" to "SHOULDER" in his official emails to Director Lazard. Lazard received three reports about "SHOULDER Second Class performance reviews"

• Orchestrated a three-week psychological campaign to convince everyone—including Sephiroth himself—that he was allergic to coffee. Every time Sephiroth took a sip, Angeal would squint and ask about non-existent rashes until even Sephiroth started second-guessing himself.

• Loves cooking extravagant meals just to send photos to his friends with captions like "Made your favorite dish… Not for you though" or "This could've been yours."

• Claims everyone's preferred spots, especially Sephiroth's cherished right-side aisle seat in their usual mess hall booth. He'll sit there with a straight face while watching Sephiroth's internal blue screen. (punishment for the coffee)

•Steals Sephiroth's favorite coffee mug, making it mysteriously appear in increasingly bizarre locations around the 49th floor. like inside the copy machine, balanced on top of the water cooler, in the middle of board meeting tables, and once inside the vents.

• Changes Zack's training sessions into "essential SOLDIER skills" that suspiciously look like chores, like organizing the filing room, polishing all the doorknobs in the building, alphabetizing Angeal's spice rack, and putting coffee beans in the air vent in Sephiroth's office, so that Sephiroth constantly smells coffee whenever he's working.

• Weaponizes his infamous lectures. Once subjected Genesis to a 45-minute lecture on "proper pizza etiquette and the spiritual implications of throwing out the crust." Gives Sephiroth an hour-long lecture about resource conservation whenever he spots him with coffee. Sephiroth is in hell

• Takes malicious delight in creatively misinterpreting Sephiroth's requests:

Sephiroth: The coffee maker needs cleaning. Angeal: *Completely disassembles the coffee maker and spreads all its parts across Sephiroth's desk and cleaning supplies* Sephiroth: *visibly fighting the urge to cry*

• Maintains a detailed "incident log" where he documents everyone's minor transgressions. Once pulled it out during a board meeting to remind Genesis about "The Great Stapler Misplacement of Last Tuesday." Adds a tally mark under Sephiroth's name every time he spots him with coffee.

• Started a rumor that his office plant can sense irresponsibility. Strategically moves it around the office to "watch" people. Zack is completely convinced it's judging him.

Zack: I swear it droops when I forget to hand in my reports! Angeal, watering plant: The voice of nature speaks the truth.

• Sephiroth has quit coffee.

[genericpuff]

hello! i just found out you live in canada.

do you recommend living there? i understand every country has its political problems but is it okay? is the cost of living good? would i have to learn French to live there? how are they with healthcare?

due to recent events my family is looking into moving to mexico, with our family, or canada. even if we do stay in the us, i’m interested in maybe moving to canada when i’m older!

thank you!

not 100% certain if I responded to this ask already, I found it in my drafts and sometimes posts wind up in there even after I've shared them, so if this is the second time I've responded to you with this, apologies in advance! I've edited it slightly to reflect the current state of things compared to how they were when I originally drafted this!

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

ahaha I don't feel like I'm qualified to really tell you yes or no, BUT speaking from my own experiences as a home-grown Canadian:

1.) The political problems here are very similar if not exactly the same as the U.S., just with a different coat of paint. The thing you gotta understand is that while we're our own country, we still share the same borders with the US, so a lot of the issues that happen in the US are often echoed in Canada shortly after. We've got antivaxxers, QAnon's, flat earthers, and Trump supporters galore here, just like the US does, and we're exposed to a lot of the U.S.' media on top of our own problems. So even if you moved here, you'd still have to put up with seeing all the bad news coming out of the States, and with similar problems that have echoed from the States. Even our most recent election was basically just "complacent Liberals vs. attack dog Conservatives", the two-party problem is a thing here too (though fortunately we managed to stave off the attack dog Conservative for another few years).

2.) Cost of living varies depending on the province, while many folks in expensive cities like Ontario and Alberta will argue that it's "cheaper" to live in provinces like New Brunswick and PEI, the Maritime provinces are still suffering in their own way, and their pre-existing issues are being exacerbated by folks moving in en masse and buying up properties left and right. Average rent where I live for an actual dedicated appartment is currently ~$1400-$1700/month, if you want anything less than that, then you're basically settling for a small bedroom in someone else's house. Maybe that's not a lot though comparatively, that's something you'll have to determine based on your own needs and situation.

3.) You do not need to learn French to live here, I've lived here my whole life (nearly 30 years) and barely speak it. Even a lot of native French speakers suck at French. That said, some provinces are bilingual (ex. New Brunswick) and some are essentially entirely Francophone (Quebec).

All in all, just like with the US, you can't really sum up the entirety of the Canadian experience as one tangible thing - your experiences will vary depending on the province, as they all have different government bodies, different healthcare practices, etc. While there are things that are handled on a federal level, it's the provincial level politics and public services that you gotta pay attention to as it's the most direct influence over your living conditions and rights.

If living in a big city is your goal, then you'll have to be willing to put up with high property values / rent costs, but in return you'll get access to the bigger industries that can't be found out on the East Coast. If you want cheaper rent, be prepared to live in very small rural communities with higher crime rates and drug problems... oh, and make sure you know how to drive a car, while some major cities offer decent transit systems the same can't be said for every province, Canada might be huge in terms of land mass but its population still only roughly amounts to the population of California, there are a loooot of towns and long stretches of highway that expect you to have a vehicle to get around.

Though I can't remember his name now, there was a comedian we saw as the opening act to that Randy Feltface show we went to back in November that summed up the Canadian experience perfectly - "beautiful drives to shitty places" LMAO That said, there are still great things to enjoy here. We have some amazing schools, creative industries, domestic products, and landscapes that are absolutely worth travelling to and experiencing for yourself. Gun control is a lot stricter here, so while we do still have our own crime problems, gun violence isn't as prominent (though tbf, the US has literally been called an "outlier" in how extreme its gun violence is so I suppose anywhere is gonna have less gun violence lmao) but some provinces like New Brunswick still offer hunting grounds for those who want to hunt deer/moose/etc. while other provinces like Nova Scotia and PEI are more focused around fishing, agriculture, and tourism. Major cities like Edmonton offer amazing shopping districts, while smaller cities and rural communities have their own vibrant and unique offerings like locally-sourced restaurants and music shows/theatre productions/etc. The Maritimes are often compared to the American Midwest, whereas further out west (especially Alberta) is more like the South, in both their personalities and politics.

Depending on where you are, the people can be welcoming and friendly and kind and genuinely caring for each other; but just like any place, there are a lot of dumbass idiots and assholes who are frustrating as fuck to deal with. You just gotta be willing to look for your people and be open to both our differences and our similarities :)

(and most of all, def don't blame you and your family for looking for a way out !! I hope that, regardless of where you go, it has better and safer opportunities for you <3 <3)

[enlitment]

Camille Desmoulins and Maximilien Robespierre – doomed by the Revolution?

a second part of the answer to the ask kindly sent by @iron--and--blood - first part can be found here

Okay, so I tried to follow the sources and I ended up missing what is arguably the key question. I think that there is enough evidence that warrants seeing Camille and Maximilien’s relationship as a ‘friendship torn apart but the revolution’, but could it in fact be something more that the chain of events of the mid-1790s ended up destroying?

(aka the good old “were they gay?” question)

It’s probably not surprising to anyone that there is no conclusive evidence that would suggest that either of them was definitely queer or that they were involved in some kind of a relationship. For context, the French Constitutional Assembly did decriminalise homosexuality, since there was simply no mention of private same-sex relationships it in the penal code of 1791.

Of course, there would still be a stigma surrounding queerness, seeing how France was a Catholic country – well, up to that point. On the other hand, it is also important to remember that anyone who received a higher education at that time would be well versed in classical authors (Greek and Roman that is), so they would have a framework for a positively viewed queer attraction/relationship (I'm mostly thinking of a kind of Alcibiades/Socrates vibes here. I think it sort of fits? Well it does in my headcanon anyway...). Camille especially seemed to be really into classics, making references to classical authors, history or mythology in approximately every other sentence.

CAMILLE – VICES HONTEUX AND A POSSIBILE BICON

If we consider Camille, I think it is clear that he was attracted to women. I think that the historical sources show that he genuinely did love his wife - Lucile - although it may also be true he was bit of a cad. There is a whole deal with him and Lucile’s mother with whom he apparently exchanged some flirty letters? I honestly need to look into it more at some point.

That said, attraction to women of course doesn’t exclude attraction to men. The one thing that would suggest Camille might have pursued a same-sex relationships is the reference to “vices honteux“ (shameful vices), which Saint-Just claims were attributed to Camille by Danton. We also learn from Robespierre’s note that this refered to something that was ‘totally unrelated to the revolution’.

So we know it’s something that would be seen as ‘shameful’ behaviour, but nonetheless a private matter. Could it be interest in same-sex relationships? It’s of course hard to say, but the theory is not completely implausible. For a discussion about this, I recommend this article.

MAXIMILIEN – A CONFIRMED BACHELOR?

With Maximilien Robespierre, it gets a little more complicated. He was essentially a confirmed bachelor, living with a family that adored him but that was not his own (and also a dog. He had a dog.) Talk about a found family trope!

Some sources claim that he was engaged to Éléonore Duplay, but Robespierre’s sister for one vehemently denies this. It’s true that he could probably easily have married her – I can’t imagine her family being opposed to it, far from it probably – but the fact is that for one reason or another, he did not.

He also didn’t really seem to capitalise on his massive popularity among the Parisian women. (Though, to be fair, neither did Rousseau and he was… well I guess he was his own version of heterosexual.)

Sure, one can interpret that as Robespierre being a workaholic or putting the revolution above everything else, but I personally think it is very possible that he would be considered to be on the asexual spectrum by today’s standards.

That said, although France was moving away from institutionalised religion at that point, Catholic guilt could certainly play a role, especially in someone who prided himself in his moral conduct and was told to be rigid about the rules. So the possibility of him being closeted as an explanation for his lack of interest in women would also not be completely off the table.

As to Camille and Maximilien being together in some way? I think there is certainly a precedence for this type of relationship in adolescence. Seeing that they have studied together (and shared enthusiasm for classics probably), it is not impossible, though of course, it is highly speculative.

I think it is also fair to say that Robespierre went above and beyond for Camille until the last few months. That is something he probably would have not done for many other people. He actually said as much himself:

“Learn, Camille, that if you were not Camille, one could not have so much indulgence for you.“

Was it because Camille was universally liked by the revolutionaries for all the good he has done? Possibly, but I think one can also read more into it. It certainly suggests that Camille was special in some way, and the fact that Robespierre uses ‚one‘ instead of ‚I‘ does not necessarily mean he is not speaking about himself here.

CAMILLE AND MAXIMILIEN IN THE MEDIA

When it comes to media portrayal, the relationship often comes across as queer-coded - to an extent.

In La Révolution française, this aspect is more prominent between Robespierre and Saint-Just, but with some well-timed smiles and glances, it almost reads as a tragic love triangle between the three. There are some unfortunate implications however, mainly that the hints of Robespierre's queerness in the movie are implicitly associated with his descent to tyrany. Ugh. (And let's face it, a kind of effeminacy linked to villainy as well. Honestly, who thought that kind of portrayal would be a good idea? Kudos for making a historical movie about the French Revolution come across as homophobic I guess.)

Hilary Mantel straight-up makes Camille Desmoulins bisexual (ish?) in A Place of Greater Safety, though there are <a lot of> issues with that portrayal, as discussed here (watch me linking another mutual's great post! Frevblr is truly the best). Not sure how the relationship with Robespierre is presented here since it’s one of the books I’ve been in the middle of for months.

And then there’s Stanisława Przybyszewska of course. She would honestly warrant a separate post, but long story short: in her works, there is no doubt about the fact that she portrays the relationship between them as queer. She invokes the Erastes/eromenos dynamic between them (quite explicitly, referring to Camille as an ephebe at one point) and makes the attraction between the two seem palpable. There is plenty of queer (under)tones to be found in The Danton Case, but in Last Nights of Ventôse , she straight up interprets the fall of the Dantonists as Camille running into Danton’s arms to spite Robespierre for snubbing him and rejecting his devotion (romantic advances?). And it gets quite physical – not in a way that would warrant an E rating, but it would certainly deserve one for the sheer emotional intensity.

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 1

🎋The footprints he etched on the earth

Bokuto x f!reader

Prequel : 🌌The stars he left in the sky (can be read as a standalone)

Summary : The stars he left in the sky are nothing compared to the footprints he etched on the earth.

or when you meet bokuto koutarou and wonder if you’ve ever truly known beauty before him.

Context warning: time skip setting, ex!oikawa, alcohol consumption, swearing, a lot of french words sorry

Words count: 3.1k

chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4

You’re grateful for the life you’ve been given. You’re healthy, you have a loving family with supportive parents and a funny little brother. You’ve worked hard to become a pâtissière and had great opportunities in Europe. But right now, as your boss argues that a Tatin tart and a Normande tart are essentially the same thing, you can’t help but think the gods are conspiring against you.

“Huh? What’s the problem? They both have apples in them,” he dares insisting.

You’ve studied in Paris. Paris, France. Alongside the best chefs in the world. And yet, here you are, being contradicted by a fifty-something man on something so basic. You’re not just being told you’re wrong, but in front of colleagues and even a few customers.

So, yes, you’re grateful for your life. But you’d be even more grateful if you could punch that man in the face. Of course, you won’t. You can’t. You need this job to pay your bills, your rent (because Tokyo is expensive), and to save for building the pâtisserie you’ve dreamed of for years. You know exactly what it’ll look like—where the counter will be, what colour the walls will be. Everything is planned, except for one detail: how and where you’ll actually get the place.

You force out an apology. It’s painfully obvious that it isn’t sincere, but you bow anyway, hoping it hides your annoyed expression. Then, you retreat to the back room because the croissants are ready and even though you hate your boss, you hate letting food burn in the oven more.

Days have felt repetitive since you arrived in Tokyo six months ago. Your routine begins at 4 a.m., with a quick breakfast. Most mornings, your roommate, Umi, is still awake, surrounded by her mountain of medical textbooks. You don’t know how she manages to decipher the words in her books because the light from her desk is dim (well, that might be the reason why she’s using glasses now).

“I’ll be back around five,” you say, even though she knows your schedule by heart.

“Got it. Have a good day!”

“And have a good night,” you reply with a smile.

The walk to the bakery is usually pleasant. You love seeing the sunrise over Tokyo—except now it’s May, and the weather is horrible. Still, you’ve never regretted moving here. You remember your professor in Paris warning you about how tough and unfair the culinary world can be, especially for women. It didn’t deter you. You’ve never wanted fame; you just want to open a pâtisserie and make people happy with your creations. For now, though, gaining more experience is your priority, so you work at a well-known bakery in Shibuya.

It’s only temporary, it’s only temporary, you often need to remind yourself—especially on tough days like today.

You don’t think you’re gaining a lot of practical skills but at least, you’ve learned a bit of humility here (no matter how forced and unfair it feels).

When you return home that evening, you’re not expecting much. When Umi comes home later, she often brings groceries or takeout. For someone who bakes, you’re surprisingly terrible at cooking savoury dishes. Umi discovered this shortly after you moved in, watching you struggle to roast vegetables or boil an egg.

Weeks of your culinary disasters led her to casually take over dinner duties. Ever since then, she’s been the one in charge and seems satisfied with it. You don’t mind—it’s a fair trade, especially since she’s a great cook.

“My dad was awful in the kitchen, so I had to take over cooking for me and my siblings,” she once explained. “I also had two neighbours who played sports. I made bentos for them all the time. I mean, I used to help their mother make them, she’s the one who taught me everything about cooking. One of the twins would help, but the other was a total ungrateful bastard who just ate everything.”

In return, you sneak pastries home from your workplace (a small rebellion against your boss) and make pancakes on the weekends.

Tonight, you’ve just stepped out of the shower when Umi bursts through the door.

“Hiii!” she exclaims brightly. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” you reply, keeping it short.

You’re usually good at hiding negative emotions—your teachers in Paris were brutally harsh at times, and showing weakness only invited more criticism (maybe even exclusion) . But with Umi, it’s different. She has an uncanny ability to read people’s feelings and make you feel comfortable with those feelings.

“I grew up with two younger siblings, an introverted best friend, and childhood friends who were all boys,” she told you. “I’ve basically seen every version of emotional repression there is.”

So, it doesn’t take her long to figure out you’re upset.

“Bad day?” she asks. “Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s just… my boss,” you mutter.

“What did that old geezer do this time?”

You sigh. “He was wrong about something, I tried to explain that he made a mistake but he just looked down on me. But I’m not surprised, he would rather die than admit that a girl like me is right… But honestly, it’s not just him. It’s the industry. It’s always like this.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird how everyone just accepts it and nothing changes.” She lets out a dramatic groan. “You know what the problem is? Men.”

You chuckle at that, it’s her usual response to every issue (not that you would deny it though).

You slump into the chair and press your face against the palm of your hand, when she suddenly pulls out a bottle of red wine from her bag.

You raise an eyebrow.

“You know I’m not that desperate to the point where I need to drink to deal with a bad day, right?”

“This isn’t about your bad day,” she grins. “It’s about celebrating.”

“Celebrating what? My shitty boss?”

“Let me explain!” she says, rushing to the kitchen to grab glasses. “You know my childhood friend, the one with the restaurant in Osaka?”

“The twin who isn’t an ungrateful bastard?”

“Yes, but his name is Osamu, I already told you. Anyway, a shop next to his restaurant just closed, and the landlady is looking to sell. Osamu knows her and I mentioned you’re looking for a place to open your bakery.”

You open your mouth to correct her (it’s a pâtisserie not a bakery!) but decide to you let her finish instead.

“He said he could arrange a meeting for you. Interested?”

Osaka. You’ve never been there, but the idea intrigues you. People from Kansai are known for their warmth and humour—so different from the quiet of your hometown in Miyagi. Change might be good, you find yourself thinking.

“Sure, I’d be interested,” you say cautiously (in case it doesn't work, don't get your hopes up).

“Great! Osaka is the best, and I know people there who can help you settle in. I’d recommend looking at apartments in—”

“Umi, I haven’t even seen the place yet.”

“Don’t worry,” she says confidently. “Just make them try your strawberry and cream tart. No one can say no to that!”

You laugh. “You mean the fraisier?”

“Gods, yes. Just use that sexy French accent of yours, and they’ll agree in no time.”

“Whatever you say,” you can’t help but laugh a little. “The wine is French, huh?”

She pours a generous amount into your glass, “of course. Last time I brought Californian you almost killed me.”

You take a look at the bottle to check if she’s telling the truth. You nod proudly and she smiles back.

“To your bakery!” She raises her glass and so do you.

A few days later, after pretending to be bedridden by a sudden and debilitating cold to take a fews days off from work (to which your boss complains), you find yourself standing at the station ready to leave for Osaka.

Umi had given you everything you needed: Miya Osamu's number, his address, and an enthusiastic list of typical Kansai expressions.

When you arrive there, you immediately search for “Onigiri Miya” on your phone. When you check it you are nothing but impressed by the 5 stars behind the name and the hundred and hundred of good comments.

Will you also get that someday?

Will your pâtisserie gather many people and be a place of happiness?

You try not to think too much about it, because with the flicker of hope comes fear, and you don’t have time to be negative. You have to move forward and put on a brave face, that’s what you’ve been taught.

As you step off the train and start to look for the right bus, a voice calls out behind you.

“Yer Umi’s roommate, right?”

You turn around to see a man with short brown hair. There’s a relaxed air about him that makes you feel comfortable.

“Miya-san?” you assume.

“The good one, yeah,” he replies with a boyish smile. You think his Kansai accent adds an easy charm to his voice.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come. I could have taken the bus, I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Nah, yer not. Follow me.”

He offers to carry your bag and leads you to his car, parked just outside the station.

The ride is mostly food-related, he tells you about his business. How he started as the employee of an old man who had a ramen restaurant, which eventually became his. How he transformed it into an onigiri restaurant before opening a second shop recently in Tokyo.

“Why onigiri?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He thinks for a moment. “I guess… it reminds me of home. My Ma’ used to make ’em all the time when we were kids. And I love makin’ ’em myself. Like, physically usin’ my hands. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” you say with a small smile. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your mother’s cooking.”

“It’s the best,” he says, and his tone turns soft. “Though, she didn’t really teach me much about baking. That’s why I’m impressed by what ya do.”

His compliment takes you by surprise, you restrain yourself from smiling with all your teeth.

You meet the landlady the minute you step out of the car. She listens to you carefully and even though you try not to overthink it, she seems more than happy at the idea of opening a French pâtisserie in the neighbourhood.

Osamu mentions after the meeting how you definitely “won her over with how detailed and motivated ya were.”

You don’t tell him that it only makes sense because you’ve dreamed of owning a place for years. You’ve imagined everything, thought about it during sleepless nights and overworked days. It is the lighthouse that guided you through heartbreaks and homesickness. So when the opportunity presents itself, there’s no way you wouldn’t give your all.

“I hope she’ll accept my project,” you simply answer.

“D’ya want onigiri?” The man offers.

You obviously accept (Umi dragged about how delicious they were, you need to find out whether that is true or not) and thank him again. He brushes it off with a “Umi’s friends are my friends and I’m always happy to feed people.”

His shop is warm and welcoming, and his food is delightful. You might yourself add a five-star review on Google.

“I never thought a rice ball could be that good,” you say with a mouth full of food.

“Rice balls? Ya don’t know how much time it took me to master that.”

Right, you don’t know, but you can only imagine. The culinary world isn’t only competitive and cruel. It’s sweat and tears, years of making to perfect a simple recipe. It’s giving your entire being into your crafts only to hear people say “well, that mustn’t be too difficult to make.”

But it’s also pride and art. Not a day goes by when you aren’t excited to try a new combination: replace wheat flour with almond flour for the brioches, add a spoonful of orange blossom to your cream puffs, and the list is long. And if you make someone happy, if they ask to have a second piece of your cake, that’s when you know the sweat and the tears aren’t that important.

You crave to build your pâtisserie, the same way Osamu built his restaurant (with warmth and love), and taste what it’s like to pour your heart into something tangible and undeniably yours.

Things move faster than you’d anticipated. The landlady approves your proposal, the bank grants your loan, and within the span of a week, you exchange your resignation letter with a lease and a pair of keys.

You’re sad to leave Umi, she is too.

“I’ll come whenever I can.” She says with a sad smile.

“I’ll sneak pastries for you,” you wink in return and when you hug, she congratulates you and tells you (for the tenth time) that you deserve it. You think a tear escapes your eyes.

Your newfound property is empty and cold. And when you open the door for the first time you realise that it might require a lot of work.

But Osamu is there every step of the way. He kindly offers advice and helps you with renovations. You’re a bit embarrassed by how much he’s done so far and at the same time, you know you have to take everything there is to make that place great. So it becomes a routine for him to cross the road from his shop to yours at the end of his shift to give you a hand.

“Yer makin’ the right choice,” he says one evening as you both sit outside Onigiri Miya, sharing a quick meal after a day of painting walls and changing seals. “That place is gonna bring in plenty of tourists and locals.”

You glance at him, there are nerves swirling in your chest. “I hope so.”

“Ya are. Trust me. Yer gonna have queues and queues of people.”

You hide your nerves with sarcasm, “And if they’re tired of waiting, I’ll tell them that there's a not-too-bad onigiri restaurant in front of my shop. Just so you know, time passes faster.”

He sneers at that, “’Not too bad’, ya sound like my brother.”

“Don’t know the guy but that didn’t seem to be a compliment.”

“That wasn’t.”

You roll your eyes and he laughs in return.

The hardest part of the renovation happens to be the most important one: the kitchen. You’re knee-deep in setting up the oven when you realise that maybe, you might need more people to assemble to equipment.

“I can find two or three more biceps to help,” Osamu tells you when he finds you trying to lift the 250-pound fridge by yourself.

“Yeah, I guess that would be useful,” you say breathlessly.

The next morning, you arrive early. Not as early as Osamu it seems since you see him standing outside your shop, hands in his pockets and wearing a sports suit (the clothes are unusual on him, you think). The closer you get, the blonder his hair looks. The sun has barely rise, and you blame the light for it.

You immediately call out, “Miya-san?”

He turns around, “Oh, hey!”

“You could have come later, you know. I was planning on cleaning a little bit before you arrived.”

“Don’t worry," he shakes his head, “’Samu would have killed me if I had been late.”

“Samu?”

And then, just as quickly, Osamu (the real one) shows up and for a second, you’re confused.

“Good morning,” he says before pointing to the other man, “seems like ya just met my brother.”

“I’m Atsumu.” The blond guy extends his hand to you and your knitted brows probably gives away your confusion. “Don’t tell me ya thought I was ‘Samu?”

Of course that’s his brother, you idiot. You curse yourself.

“Sorry. You guys look similar,” you say, but it’s not quite an excuse for your mistake.

They both share a glance before laughing and you think you just sounded stupid because obviously, they look alike, they’re fucking twins. You reason yourself by thinking that it’s very much early and that you’re not fully awake.

“We’re very different. I mean, our bodies aren’t built the same since I’m a professional athlete and ‘Samu’s not. I’ve always been the smartest one too.” He crosses his arms to his chest.

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. You’ll learn the difference soon enough. I’m the serious one.” He gestures to his brother. “He’s the disaster.”

Atsumu shrugs dramatically. “Hey, the world needs a little chaos, ya shithead!”

You can’t help but laugh despite the tension between them.

“Where’s the fridge?”

“I think we should wait for him; it will be easier if we’re four,” Osamu tells his brother. You didn’t know another person would come, you want to ask about them but Atsumu interferes before you can open your mouth.

“I’m pretty sure I can manage on my own, I’m a-”

“Professional athlete. I think we got it ‘Tsumu so can ya shut the fuck up now?”

You fear Atsumu will jump his brother if you don’t stop them.

“What sport?” You ask hurriedly before he can take a step towards Osamu.

“Volleyball. I’m the starting setter of the National Team.”

“Thought Tobio-kun was.”

The older twin glowers at the younger one.

“I’m impressed Atsumu-san, I actually know a professional setter.”

“Who?” The man’s eyes widen, and you decipher not only curiosity but competition on his face (typical man behaviour).

“He’s not in Japan though. But maybe you’ve heard of him, his name is Oika-”

“My bad Sam-sam, I walked past that place.”

A man enters the room. He is a bit sweaty and his hair, grey and raven, is falling on his forehead. 

“Did ya run to come here?” Osamu raises an eyebrow at him.

He grins and scratches the back of his neck nervously, “I took the wrong street.”

“But it’s the same as Onigiri Miya.”

“But it’s always Omi-Omi who guides us here. I never came on my own,” he pouts.

“Thank you for coming,” you hear yourself say and that’s when he finally sees you. His pout immediately disappears.

You think he is handsome. He and his golden eyes. But it’s only a sample of his beauty because when he replies “of course,” with his smile all bright and warm, you’re mesmerised.

It’s almost instinctive, the way you can’t look away. It’s like an effortless intake of air. Like your eyes seem to be glued to his features, and soon enough, to his arms and the way the muscles contract slightly when he offers his hand for you to shake it.

“I'm Bokuto,” he grins. “Nice to meet you.”

“Bokkun, yer hands are all dirty. She’s a lady.”

“Oops, Tsum-Tsum is right. Where can I wash them?” He asks you and hides his hands behind his back.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. The room is filled with silence for a very long minute before Osamu finally decides to show him the way.

Why are you disappointed? Why did you want so badly to shake his hand?

Perhaps because it’s too early for your mind to function properly.

Your brain tries to go for that answer (your beating heart whispers something else).

“Should we start workin’”? Atsumu proposes and you nod.

Well, it seems like you’re stuck with two bickering brothers and this god-like man named Bokuto.

(This is going to be a good day, you think discretely).

author notes: okay so this was supposed to be a one-shot but it will be a 3 or 4 chapters story haha

(writing this made me very hungry btw)

[classicrocknlove]

~Jimmy Page Fanfiction~

Spread Your Wings

“I’m just looking for an angel with a broken wing…. But somehow, they always seem to fly, fly away…”

-

Chapter Fourteen

(Explicit Content Below)

Morning of July 30th, 1973

-

Jimmy’s P.O.V.

Sunny, windy morning in the Empire State.

I was glad it hadn’t started raining yet, as it was originally supposed to by this time. I couldn’t take the tears of the sky right now.

Regardless of the weather and the pleasant sunshine seeping into the windows of the hotel café, this morning held a bleak, aching air to it.

The tour had finally reached its end - we were going home.

But, like they always do, problems arose.

Money had been stolen from our safety deposit box here at the hotel.

Peter woke me up with his fucking pounding at the door at half ten, thankfully not waking sleeping beauty, and now I was going to be leaving her to return to isolation.

Cyn and I had formed a relationship, at least a bond of some kind, and I hadn’t felt like this in a long while - especially not with any bird I’d ever met on tour.

And I’d be leaving her too soon, just a plane ride away from being thousands of miles across the world from her.

I’ve become especially cross about all of this, essentially because it had all came at once, Cyn and I developing our connection so quickly.

Maybe that was my fucking fault, never being able to hold back, always giving in, and I couldn’t just stay bloody professional if I tried.

There’s been countless girls that had roamed around the band in our days. Some hanger-ons, some interviewers, some photographers, hairstylists and wardrobe specialists, the fucking lot.

But Cyn, for fucks sake, she had put some kind of spell upon me, a bloody good one, and I began to consider her as some kind of sensual witch at this point.

But how? How did I let it get this far?

There’s always been a never ending supply of girls, especially those LA offered, whom besought me enough to where I could take it as far as I wanted - as long as I was getting something out of it - a blowie, a quickie in the bathroom at The Rainbow, or a nightfall rendezvous at the Hyatt.

Then I’d take them for a round of shopping at the local boutique, with each of them thanking me handsomely in the car ride back to the hotel.

And that was it. That was uniform. Every bird had their time with me and could brag about it later. But once we left the city, that’s where it ended.

But Cyn, God, just us holed-up in her apartment, or the hotel, me pleasuring her or her holding me while I weeped like a prat over my night terrors, was enough to drive me mad and yearn for it every night thereafter.

I needed more time, more everything with her, only her.

Perhaps it’s because she wasn’t completely infatuated with us - with me. Usually any ladies that came around to photograph or write about us were already massive Zeppelin fans - and wanted whatever they could get out of us - whether that was gossip, a quick shag, whatever we’d offer.

Cynthia was nothing like them. Christ, she doesn’t even own one bloody record of ours.

In a strange way, this turned me on. I liked that she wasn’t a hound, some obsessed cow who would die for a minute in the dressing room with me.

And it was refreshing, fascinating even, to meet a woman whom hadn’t already experienced all of life’s pleasantries in bed.

She had much to learn, much. And I’d be honored to be the one to christen each moment with her.

No woman had ever made me feel this way. Well, at least since I had met Charlotte years ago.

Oh Jesus, fucking Charlotte.

She had been acting like a rebuffed fishwife, as if she hadn’t been the one who stepped out on me first, beginning this fucking soap opera.

Then, I decide to have some fun of my own, have my time with a few birds myself on this tour… and word got around.

Now Charlotte has become all fucking a-scorned, taking my Scarlet along with her - back to bloody France. Probably staying with that French pig she had been fucking in our bed while I was away.

I couldn’t help the disgusted look that formed on my face due to my thoughts - bloody fucking Charlotte - as I made my way to the elevators, two plastic cups of tea in hand.

I hoped she liked Earl Grey - it was either that or the burnt, five-hour-expired black coffee that sat in a pot at the end of the register counter.

The elevator held a vicious, stuffy air and housed a stream of a melody that seemed only appropriate for torture.

I finally reached the top floor, sighing as I stepped out into the hallway, making my way down the endless corridor of suites.

Peter loomed about in the hall, pacing back and forth, and I hurried to try and make my way past him, not wanting to hear anymore of his panicking mess, but he stopped me anyhow.

“Jim, we’ll be here an extra day or two. No one’s flying out of here until we get this sorted.” He informs me and my mood both declines, then rejuvenates.

More time with Cyn.

I nod at him as he chattered away, money money money, my mind focused on only one thing… well, one person.

“It’s all over the telly, already. I’ve got to go and speak with the bobbies downtown, you boys stick around and keep a low profile.” Peter ordered, storming away down the hall.

I bit my lip as I turned around, following the patterned carpet down to our room, hoping that Cyn hadn’t awakened just yet.

~

Cynthia’s P.O.V.

I awoke slowly, moving lazily about the sheets.

The sun beamed into the large screen of the sliding glass door, blinding me.

I rubbed at my eyes, my body subconsciously moving over to the other side of the bed, wanting to feel Jimmy’s body against mine, but was met with the cold, empty silhouette.

I sat up in the bed, peering around at my surroundings.

The blanket had been tossed over on his side, sheet still holding the outline of his body.

Jimmy had seemingly left.

My clothes were picked up from where we discarded of them last night, folded neatly on the chair next to the bed.

I hadn’t seen Jimmy’s clothes anywhere, no longer remaining on the ground, nor folded by mine, and I began to think the worst.

He left without saying goodbye?

What am I to do, now? Did he leave a number by the phone? By the door?

I stretched my neck, long and curiously, toward the door of the suite, looking around to see if Jimmy had left a note, maybe a piece of paper that lay on the floor, holding my fate.

Nothing.

My eyes travelled to the nightstands on each side of the mattress - nothing.

Tears threatened my eyes as I threw myself back onto the bed with a huff, pulling the top sheet up and over my head.

I thrashed around in the sheets, my legs and arms kicking about, and I began to utter nonsensical, disapproving statements to myself in a rather loud manner, disappointed in my behavior that I had let go too far.

I was still lashing out in the sheets, feeling rather worn and used, until I hear the clearing of a throat.

My eyes widened and I halted my movements abruptly, slowing pulling the sheet down.

My head lifted up off of the pillow slightly, and soon my cheeks were cherry red as I viewed Jimmy at the foot of the bed, looking down at me with an amused smile.

He chuckled as he peered at me, and I wondered just how much of my tantrum he witnessed.

“Am I interrupting? Shall I come back later?” He says sarcastically, walking around the mattress to my side of the bed.

I put my hands over my face in sheer mortification, shaking my head as he continues his light giggles.

He pulls my hands away from my face, my eyes meeting his bright and beautiful green gaze.

“I’m so glad you’re awake, love... c’mere, let me give you a proper g’morning.” He tells me softly, kissing my cheeks, then my lips, placing the warm plastic cup into my hand.

I smile wide and take a sip of the tea as he shifts his body across the room, tearing off his wrinkled shirt that he had on last night.

I hoped he wasn’t offended that I seemingly doubted him. I now felt great shame that I had - when he had only just awoken before me and took it upon himself to sweetly go and get us tea.

“And now, my darling girl, I have both good… and bad news.” He tells me as he slumps down onto the sofa across from the bed.

“Hmm?” I curiously hum, waiting for him to indulge me.

“Which would you like first?” He asks.

“Bad.” I mentally cringe, hoping he won’t say that he wants me out, and away from him.

“All of our money needed to pay off necessaries has been stripped from the box downstairs - Peter just told me…” Jimmy informs me, of what he had just been informed, and my eyes go wide.

“Oh my God, everyone must freaking out!” I exclaim as I gasp with shock, wondering how this could have happened.

“Peter’s got it handled. But this is where the good news veers in, Cyn.” Jimmy says with a toothy grin.

“What good could possibly come of this?” I ask him, thoroughly confused of what he’s on about.

“This delays travel plans, delays going home… and allows for another day or so spent with you, my love.” He finishes, a cheery smile plastered on his face.

I couldn’t help the smile and blush growing upon my cheeks as he forwarded toward the bed, enveloping me in his arms.

“Oh, Cyn. You must know that I wouldn’t just leave. I’d never leave you wondering, love…” He tells me, a whimpering tone strung through his accent.

“Thank you…” I whisper, barely audible, but I know he heard as he continued our embrace, smoothing my bed head.

He pulls away minutely, rubbing up and down my shoulders with his large hands, raising goosebumps on my skin.

I still held the top sheet up and over me, covering my body, hiding my half-nakedness from Jimmy.

I wanted nothing more now, than to rip his clothes off and feel his warm skin against mine in the sheets.

“Now, what are you in the mood for today, Cyn? Hungry?” He asks, kissing one of my hands and reaching for his cup of tea.

“I could eat.” I shrug as I shift around on the bed awkwardly, reaching over to the chair to grasp onto an article of clothing.

Then my mind flickered with remembrance.

“Oh, no! Paul!” I exclaim, rushing for the phone on the nightstand.

I almost fell off the bed in my haste, curled in the sheet, hurrying to dial the office’s number.

“Bloody hell, Cynthia! What is this about?” Jimmy rushes to my side, clutching my arm to steady me.

“I was supposed to be at work by twelve!” I shout in a hushed tone, waiting for Paul’s horrid voice to shred the line on the end.

“Ah…” He nods in understanding, and then reaches around me to grasp onto the receiver.

Jimmy rips the phone out of my hand and places the receiver to his ear as I try to fight him back for it.

He keeps me at an arm’s distance, and soon begins talking to Paul on the other line.

My eyes go wide as I listen to their conversation.

“Ello, Paul, is it? - Hi, yes, - Yes, hello, this is Jimmy Page.” My mouth falls open at his words.

What the hell is he doing?

Jimmy begins chuckling into the receiver.

“Very good, sir. I’m calling about a Miss Carpenter… Yes - No, sir, no trouble. Just calling to let you know what a phenomenal reporter you have on your hands, bloody good, she is.” Jimmy winks at me as he covers my mouth with his hand to keep me from vociferating.

“Yes, the lads and I have run into a bit of a scuffle here at the hotel, and we’ll be staying an extra week. We’ll need Miss Carpenter until the weekend.” Jimmy fibs into the phone as I furrow my eyebrows.

“Thank you, sir… very well - and you, too.” Jimmy finishes the call, placing the phone back down on its stand nonchalantly.

He offers a goofy grin as I begin pushing and nudging at him for lying to my boss.

“My God! He will surely have my head once I am back to work! And why did you say a week? Jesus, you said it’d be a day or two!” I exclaim, my hands making elaborate gestures to match my consternation.

“Cynthia, regardless of whether I’m here, you’ll have the rest of the week off… not to worry.” He starts, then, “and anyhow - you’ll need some rest once I am away…” He mutters, a sharp look in his eye, crooked smirking forming on his face.

My eyes shy away from his as I sigh and run my fingers through my hair.

“Love, relax… he’ll be getting his rocks off from that phone call for days… he’ll need at least a week to recover before he even thinks about you missing time.” He chuckles as he plops himself on the edge of the bed.

Must he be so… glib about his stardom?

I sit down next to him, reaching for my top as I still had the top sheet half-ripped from the bed, covering myself.

Holding up my wrinkled blue blouse, I noticed that it had a stain along the front and I distinctly remembered dropping gulps of one of my drinks upon it last night in my aroused, drunken stupor.

I couldn’t possibly go around looking like this.

“Here, love.” Jimmy offers a shirt of his own, noticing my disdain for my soiled one.

It was a black t-shirt, meant to be oversized it seemed, even for Jimmy’s skinny frame. It was ultimately massive on me.

It boasted embroidery, his country’s name written in big letters, with a shiny rose and symbol to the left and right of it.

It smelled so much like him, and I suddenly wanted to curl up in it and have his scent swirl around my senses for days.

“Baby, I’d like to take you back to that little café you showed me, you know, with the tapestries and things.” He tells me, pulling on his shirt and pants, ruffling his curls to perfection in the dresser mirror.

“I’d love that.” I tell him, sighing contently, smiling up at him. I had a feeling he had enjoyed that restaurant’s atmosphere.

I finally rise from the mattress, smoothing out the shirt, as it appeared more dress-like on me with its long length. It reached above my knee, my five-foot frame clearly not filling it out.

“You look so sexy in my clothes, love.” He says low into my ear, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I reach up, one hand gripping his shoulder, the other traveling to the nape of his neck, playing with his curls.

He hums as he leans down to feather kisses along my neck, minding the lovebites that were starting to fade.

We stood embraced for a moment, entranced in each other.

“Are we off?” He asks as I gather my small clutch in my hands.

“Almost.” I tell him, reaching for my slacks, readying to shimmy them up my legs.

“Just wear this, Cyn.” He tugs the fabric of the shirt.

“Jimmy… it’s a t-shirt. Though it may look like a dress of some sort… I still don’t have much on underneath.” I tell him, referring to my bare thighs, only my panties present to save me.

“Love, it’s on trend. A lot of girls are sporting the short frocks. Just go without.” He tells me, trying to persuade the risky clothing choice.

I shake my head, thinking about what my mother would think if I stepped out of the house in just my heels and a t-shirt…

“Jimmy, I’ll-” I start to argue, but he shakes his head, pulling me to him, hand kneading my thigh, moving up to my backside.

“Just go without.” He orders, low and sultry in my ear.

My stomach’s butterflies erupted, and I tingled everywhere as he released me, walking across the suite to retrieve a small bag.

“We’ll stop at your flat on the way, get you back prim… alright, Cyn?” He teases, reassuring me.

His hands uncontrollably grabbed at my bottom as I hurried out of the door he held open.

I roll my eyes and giggle as he takes my hand, walking with me down the hall to the elevators.

Just then, a naked girl scurries out of Robert’s room, clothes in hand, shoving open the stairwell door and flailing herself down the millions of stairs ahead, tugging her blouse on.

Robert went to close his door, throwing us a wave and a wink as his hotel room shut with a slam.

My jaw drops open as I stood, frozen in shock for a moment. I turn toward Jimmy, whom doesn’t even bat an eye.

“Don’t mind them… C’mon, Cyn.” He continues, dragging me to the elevator as I picked my jaw up off of the floor.

Our elevator ride down to the lobby left me breathless, Jimmy pinning me up against the wall and rubbing against my center. The monotone music droned in my ears, masking Jimmy’s groans as I pulled his hair.

Our minute long rendezvous in the elevator came to a hasty stop as the elevators widened.

We made our way to the cars, a few fans and such hanging around the front doors. I was shocked Jimmy still had a grip on my hand even though there was people all around, some even taking pictures.

I was excited to embark on another day with Jimmy. He made me unbelievably happy and I felt so alive whenever I was around him.

We talked and talked in the limousine, nonsensically discussing the last week together, Jimmy raving about how smitten he had become with me.

He fussed over me, sliding his black velvet-clad butt across the seat, pulling me onto his lap so he could kiss and fondle me.

My panties were a thin barrier, and I could feel him hardening with every kiss and touch.

I couldn’t believe how much I had been allowing since meeting Jimmy. I was never one for public affection or risky intimate encounters, and Jimmy and I were past that point.

Our limo rides alone contained more action than I had ever dared to even think of doing, other than in, maybe, my dreams - or in the confines of a bedroom.

We finally pulled to the curb of my apartment building.

I led Jimmy up the flights on stairs, with him palming my backside through the short, thin material of his t-shirt.

I almost didn’t want to change, wanted his scent plastered on me for all eternity, as well as his hands, but decided that I’d don a dress instead.

I took a fast shower, with Jimmy protesting from behind the bathroom door for not allowing him to join me.

I laughed as he proposed a well-thought-out argument as to why we should be showering together.

I was still trying to hold up minimal boundaries, not wanting to give in just yet, even though I wanted to - badly.

It was hard to control these newfound feelings and desires, especially with a man like Jimmy.

I chose a short, white sundress, Jimmy insisting on a brown leather jacket for me, as it was windy out and I was “bound to get cold.”

He had changed by the time I made my way out of the bathroom, wearing the same suit jacket from last night, now in a freshly starched shirt, with his signature high-waisted pants, making his long legs look even longer.

He was gorgeous. Black hair shining in the sun-lit living room, perched on the couch waiting for me.

He brushed my hair for me again, helping me play with the curling iron as I placed a few curls at the ends of my locks.

He mumbled something about how much he loved to be able to see my rosy cheeks and blue eyes, as he pulled my hair back for me - “Brigitte Bardot Style”.

I was entranced by the way he enjoyed doing my hair for me. I had never met a man quite as bewildering as him, and so dreamy.

It seemed that he loved styling me too, enjoyed the after-effects of it as well. His compliments making me blush and fizz with modesty.

We set off onto the pavement below, our walk feeling light and quick, as we conversed down the narrow sidewalk.

We reached the restaurant, being met with pairs of unbelieving eyes as we were sat at a table in the corner, windows encasing us.

Jimmy ordered for us - chicken with rice, snap peas and baby carrots to compliment, sauce to share on the side - ‘just mix it Cyn, you don’t have to keep them separate’.

We ate in peace, hums and murmurs meeting each other’s every now and then as we devoured the meal.

Soon, we found ourselves under our oak tree in the park down the road, my hands in his hair, his body safe between my legs.

He dozed off and on, light snores escaping his parted lips, face soft and content.

He was a perfect boy, and it was evident that he needed me, just as much as I needed him in the moment. Somehow, it seemed as if we were one in the same, though we were vastly different - opposites even.

We seemed to fill each other’s missing pieces within ourselves.

Soon, the afternoon came to a close and evening began to seep through the clouds.

We made our way back to my apartment, hand in hand. We got settled, and I decided to bake my chocolate chip cookies that Jimmy loved so much.

I took the sheet pans from the oven to cool as Jimmy walked over to his small bag he brought with him, pulling something out of it that I couldn’t quite decipher.

Then I realized what he had in mind.

“Zeppelin I?” I asked, recognizing the cover of the vinyl record he had in his hands.

“I’ve told you, Cyn, we’ve got to make you familiar…” He smirked, taking the disc from its protective cover.

As he placed the disc down on the record player, he maneuvered the bottle of wine he had perched under his arm onto the dresser where the player sat.

“Glasses, love?” He calls, and I smile as I grasp onto the only wine glasses I owned, scurrying over to where he sat on the bed.

He poured the red wine slowly, large hands wrapping around each of the glasses carefully as he poured them to their limit.

We drank and munched, half eaten cookies and an empty bottle of wine laying by the bedside as Jimmy and I embraced each other on my bed.

We kissed and kneaded each other, Jimmy pulling me up and on him, hands gripping my bottom as he rubbed my heat against his growing member.

He pulled away minutely, breathlessly, fingers delicately pulling strands of hair away from my face.

Our breathing slowed, chests coming together as he held me tighter to him.

He sensually gazed into my eyes as Babe I’m Gonna Leave You streamed through the speakers, Robert’s voice wailing across the bedroom.

“…And I know that one day baby…”

“It’s gonna really grow… yes, it is…”

“We’re gonna go, walking through the park every day…”

Jimmy sang the words to me, supple lips to my ear, his sweet voice floating about.

I wished he sang more on their records… he has such a beautiful, calming singing voice.

I couldn’t decide if I’d rather hear him talk or just sing to me for the rest of my life.

The words he repeated held distinct meaning, especially for us.

As he sang those words to me, I pictured us many years in the future, still trailing along the path in the park down the road, hand in hand.

Jimmy pulled me back to face him, passionately kissing me flipping us over so he retained his domination.

“Oh, love… How will I leave? What will I do without you there?…” Jimmy muttered into my ear as he held me firmly underneath him.

His hands moved hazily up and down my body as he moved down towards my lower region, eyes peering up at me every now again.

He pulled my dress up, exposing my thighs, rubbing circles into my wetness that had soaked my panties.

I whimpered at his touch, hand going to grasp his, and he shook his head, catching my wrist in his large hand.

He softened his touch and removed his hands from me, moving back up my body to place a wet kiss on my lips.

“Cynthia, baby, let me…” he whispers against me, warm breath fanning onto my neck.

“Let me take care of you, alright?” He nearly begs, and I release my tense grip, allowing him to resume his actions.

He pulls my panties off my legs swiftly, lips and tongue running along the insides of my thighs.

He was teasing me and I was weakly moaning, his name escaping my lips as I flexed my hips toward him, needing him desperately.

“Jimmy… please…” I whimpered, hand going to his hair, gripping his soft curls as they cascaded down his face. I pulled some strands away from his face, catching his eyes.

He smiled up at me as he lowered his mouth to my folds.

I felt his words against me as he spoke, breaking the silence in the overheated room.

“I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good…” he moans. I gasped at his dirty words.

Despite being so familiar with his erotic nature, his words never failed to shock me.

“Christ, I can’t believe nobody’s ever had you before…” he growls into my center as his tongue began lapping at me.

The alcohol swirled in my system, making me feel fuzzy and warm as I relished Jimmy’s skillful handling of me.

Jimmy brought my release to me, oh-so soon, shooting stars erupting behind my eyelids as Jimmy continued to work his tongue against me, all the while moaning into my folds.

I moved him up my body hastily, his mouth and chin slick and shining with my release as he loomed above me, ruffled and beautiful.

I Can’t Quit You Baby expounded through the room, the bluesy number adding to the effect, the sensual air of the room thick.

I was panting by the time Jimmy got to kissing me again.

Our mouths moved synchronously, and he clearly enjoyed allowing me to taste myself on him.

Soon, we pulled away, mostly because we were out of breath, our actions unruly, not being able to hold back from one another.

We laid there, on my bed, fan going, blasting around the sultry heat of the room as we finished off Zeppelin’s first album.

Soon, How Many More Times concluded, the album still spinning pointlessly on the player.

Despite our erotic encounter, the wine still coursing through our veins, brains a bit mushy, Jimmy still noticed the record’s nonsensical spinning and reached for his bag once again.

He kissed my head with Led Zeppelin II grasped in his hands, moving to set the disc down onto the player.

Whole Lotta Love blared through the room next, Jimmy turning around with a massive grin on his face - and I could tell that this precise song had always been one of his favorites.

I sighed, enjoying the moment, wishing we could stay just like this forever.

“I love listening to your playing…” I mutter as he settles back down onto the bed with me.

My hands went to his now bare chest, his shirt discarded of on the floor below.

He hummed at that, kissing my forehead, my cheek, and settling his head back down onto the pillow. I could tell that drowsiness that hit him like a freight train, his sleepy movements becoming slow and lazy.

The moonlight illuminated the room as Jimmy fell into a slumber, leaving me half-awake to enjoy the rest of the numbers on the first side of the album.

Soon, my eyes betrayed me, as I tried to keep them open to be able to flip the disc, but no luck.

I was spent. Jimmy possessed the abilities to always thoroughly wear me out.

I clutched him as I laid against his chest, my eyes falling. I listened to his steady heartbeat as his sensational guitar strumming became a lovely echo within the room, successfully lulling me to sleep.

-

A/N

Ah! Hello, everyone! I can’t believe we’ve made it this far!

Hope you enjoyed this fluffy bit I’ve written, that hopefully… maybe… might soften the blow of what’s to come in the future…? :p

Thank you so much for reading! ♥️

Link to Chapter Fifteen: https://www.tumblr.com/classicrocknlove/785093108438319104/spread-your-wings

[joeloverture]

thoughts on using the word papi in fic? i’ve heard it’s fine but that was the opinion from white woman i’d rather hear from a latina

hi honey, thanks for coming to an actual latina instead of a ww and being willing to learn ❤️ short answer: it’s not fine. long answer below the cut

disclaimer: i don’t speak spanish! i speak only scraps of conversational nahuatl and can read a semi decent amount of spanish but i grew up speaking a teeeeny bit of spanish before my family decided to go english only. essentially, im a no sabo as my parents wanted to protect me from being brown. (self hating parents i swear)

i did go to some of my spanish speaking babes to know how to approach this ask, because while i do understand how we are fetishized, i have never been fetishized for speaking spanish or the lack thereof ( @gothcsz and @ovaryacted thank yall for the input!! go follow them they’re my darlings)

i do think there’s more nuance to it than “AUGH NO RACISM NOT FINE” and “oh this is alright!” there’s a biiiiiig gap between those two things and a bridge between those two things. where you land is as a result of several factors. i don’t think running to chase someone who uses papi in a fic is the move, but rather a gradual acknowledgment of how to improve. because in this fandom we all have to acknowledge we’re writing for a latino man, who, at the end of the day, has been reduced from his talented/powerhouse performances to “papi chulo” or “papito” in tiktok comments. it’s another repetition of the pattern of how we are reduced to our capability to sexually satisfy others.

i know latinas who call their partners papi. i know latinas who don’t call their partners papi— primarily because it’s something they call their fathers and thus makes them uncomfortable. too close to home, y’know? i do not know white girls who call their partners papi.

i was thinking about it like this two days ago when you sent this ask over. if i had a french partner i wouldn’t be going “oui oui baguette” or calling him père. (cut to me being confused when my dom tries to talk dirty to me in spanish and im there like 😶 bc idk a damn thing he’s saying!!) i think people often find another language hot because of the commodification of having an accent, but this is amplified if it is from a person of color. i also don’t tend to think it’s a WW’s place to write papi into their fics, but especially say “oh it’s fine!” that’s… weird to me. because why are they speaking instead of us? to excuse themselves? most likely.

anyway— let me know if you need clarification; this is all over the place lmao