#you want to make them affordable and/or give me a front row one for free 🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀 thanks queen 🌀🌀

[andtosaturn]

stevie nicks you want to announce australian tour dates soooooo bad 🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀

[rjalker]

February 12th 2023: don't donate until this part is removed! someone stole my fucking wallet.

I'm making this my pinned post because I am tired of suffering.

Here's the link to my actual About post. Read it if you're going to follow me, it has my DNI as well as tags I use for things so you can blacklist them if you want/need to.

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Hi I'm fucking too disabled to work but have to get a fucking lawyer to get fucking disability SSI from the stupid fucking government because it's literally designed to make people give up before they get their gods damned money.

I literally don't even eat even a single meal each day.

I'm also trans and would like to fucking medically transition someday but at this point I've just fucking give up that hope because I will literally never be able to afford it unless capitalism gets smashed tomorrow. in which case none of this matters, but that's not going to happen because that's not how revolution works so fucking anyways

also we're out of ibuprophen and I have fucking menstrual cramps right and yeah I should probably get fucking tested for endomitroiosis or whatever the fuck it's called but you know what else I don't have? Health insurance. Because I'm too disabled to work, and even if I could work literlaly no one will give me a full time job that wouldn't literaly just end up killing me.

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Here's the gofundme link.

My paypal, venmo, and cashapp are all "Rjalker".

Here's the link to my redbubble store if you'd rather buy something.

You can also tip me through tumblr.

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I have the Redbubble prices set so that when you buy a product I actually get a decent cut instead of $2 max. If you buy a pin, for example, I get $9.

My paypal icon is the same flower design as my tumblr icon. I don't think cashapp and venmo have icons but if they do I'll make sure they're the same too.

Check out and request more pronoun pins on my sideblog @custom-pronoun-pins

This post is being made November 30th 2022 but unless they suddenly invent No Longer Disabled pills it's just not going to have a fucking "this is no longer relevant" date because this shit isn't going to get better.

Here's what your money will be going towards if you donate:

rent, $500 a month for my half

phone bill, $35 a month

water bill, around $35 a month

internet bill , $45 a month

cat food, cat litter, and vet visits

groceries

clothes

fixing the washer or just buying a new one

fixing the dryer or just buying a new one

all the fantasy and scifi books I'm going to write that I will literally be giving away for free because if it's not clear enough yet I fucking hate capitalism. You will be able to download the books for free endlessly and the only time you'll have to pay money is for the cost of the materials to make the physical book.

we literally have not had a functional washer or dryer for the last like five fucking years in a row. All our clothes have to be washed in the fucking tub and then hung up in front of a fan to dry, or put in the fucking pop-up air dryer we found that takes for fucking ever and can't hold more than a few things before it stops working almost entirely.

I'm making this my pinned post because I'm tired of suffering. I'll fucking put the other one back when capitalism ends or I get the fucking disability SSI I literally would have been getting from birth except for the fucking idiot in the government who decided to fucking remove us from the fucking disability list when we turned eighteen when they took us off the fucking survivor's benefits of our fucking dad dying.

No I am not fucking joking. My twin and I were literally born four months early. We were literally guaranteed disability SSI from the moment we were born because of all the shit that went wrong and the fact that both of us were blatantly fucking autistic and had dyslexia and all this other shit.

And some fucking government worker fucked up when we turned eighteen and not only took us off the fucking survivor's benefits SSI, which overrode the disability SSI, but also fucking took us off the list for the disabled SSI.

Literally assigned abled at eighteen.

And I still haven't even fucking been diagnosed with anything for my physical disability because again! No health insurance! Because I can't work! Because I'm disabled! And since I can't work I can't get my disability diagnosed! Which means I can't get accommodations! It's literally a fucking endless cycle that will only stop if I or capitalism die!!!

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Update 12/11/22: The water bill for November has been paid! Thank you!

[aeipathcy]

“Randel,” Mikel stared at the chessboard mindlessly, playing with the bishop trapped within his fingers. “How have you come to walk as Death itself?” Game long forgotten, the pretender of a demon contemplated his own existence before fixating himself on his companion whose past he had yet to understand.

UNPROMPTED ┊always accepting.

How he ended up being dragged into playing the boardring game was beyond him, but somehow, Randel was sitting across a fancy table with an insanely fragile and expensive-looking checkered glass board with a bunch of equally expensive, intricately carved playing pieces on it. There were pieces that looked like little people, a crown, a couple of horses, a castle or watchtower maybe, and whatever that third piece from the end was... who the fuck knew? And all of them were covered in shimmery gloss and gold finishing as if some artist was paid to make them as obnoxiously showy as possible as if to rub in the owner's riches at being able to even afford this dumb set.

His arm was draped over the back of the luxurious chair and his sword was not attached to his hip for once, leaning nicely against the chair within arm's reach if need be. One leg was lifted to rest the foot on the other. Fingers were tucked under his chin. The white-haired man leaned in to get a closer look of the board as he aggressively thought about his next move. To say his mind was in a rage-filled overdrive would not be an understatement.

All he knew right now was that he was utterly losing this game. The white pieces that once took up two neat rows had dwindled down to occupying only three meager spaces. The black colored pieces were still pristine in formation and numbers almost unharmed—a glance to the side would reveal that the swordsman was only smart enough to eliminate a handful. Supposedly the white pieces had the advantage, but clearly...

Practically staring a hole into the board in front of him, all the poor exorcist found himself able to do was miserably locate his one-turn stalling move to prevent a so-called 'checkmate'. Removing his fingers and reaching out the 'king' piece (god why couldn't he just lop this king's head off?), Randel lifted it from the board, his free hand reaching to grip his hair in frustration as he tried to picture his next move after this one, contemplate how Mikel might move his next piece.

But instead of playing a move, the question thrown in his direction caught his attention. Lifting his chin, his piercing glare settled upon the unperturbed redhead sitting across from him, the fidgeting with the killed off piece absolutely making Randel more enraged.

So... this guy forced him to play this shitty game and now he wanted to learn about him? No fucking way in hell—

❝ I'm gonna... stab you, ❞ he nearly growled, voice low and angry at the current predicament. Whether he was angry at the game or at Mikel for even thinking to ask such an intrusive question was somewhat blurred. Just as if he were to go back to silence again, he rose his voice, ❝ you really think I'm just gonna give you the answer, you dumbass?! You owe me a stab for putting me through this shitty-ass game and wastin' my time! ❞

[cherryyharryy]

angst to fluff where y/n finds out she was originally just supposed to be a rebound type thing after he broke up with someone like idk something like he broke up with someone on the european leg of tour and she was supposed just be with him until he went on another leg but then he started to love her and brings her on the rest of tour with him and she finds out abt the rebound thing after the last show of tour where everyones drunk and celebrating and one person lets it slip

I tweaked it just a bit...hope that's ok:)

WC: 3.5K

****

“You look beautiful.”

I skim my nose across Harry’s cheek, his chin resting on my shoulder, and hum against stubble that wasn’t there this morning. “You’ve said that five times tonight.”

“And?” He slips around to face me.

His suit is a deep maroon, probably black if you’re far away, probably purple if you’ve had too much champagne. His chest expands when I slide my hand down.

“Love this dress.” He takes my hand off and pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my head.

“You two forget where you’re at?” Another foreign voice surrounds us, well, foreign to me.

“Fucker,” Harry says to the man. They pat each other’s backs as the guy walks away. “Tyler Johnson.”

“Oh.”

“He worked with me on the last album.”

“Okay.”

It’s like the fifteenth person that I’ve been introduced to tonight, all of whom pass by with quick hellos, inside jokes with Harry, and little interest in me. The fast paced world of the rich and famous doesn’t slow down, even for charity.

“Harry, so glad you could make it.” Another voice, another man. This one lingers, long enough to receive my name, and offer a cliche compliment about my patience to put up with this beautiful bastard on my arm.

I thank him with the smile I’ve learned to speak through. These celebrities never stop smiling. Never stop posing. Never stop.

Then he’s gone too, and Harry’s whispering yet another name in my ear, of which I’ll forget seconds later because these people ultimately mean nothing to me. They all seem to pass through each other’s lives whenever convenience allows, playing house and acting like grown ups who get the privilege of not truly growing up.

I feel like the Gucci dress Harry had tailored to my body doesn’t fit. My posture sucks. I’m too scared to eat any of the finger foods being carried on silver platters through the hall. I haven’t learned how to smile through food I don’t like or not make a mess or take small enough bites. I swear, not one glass of champagne has any lipstick on it. They’re like magic.

I look at Harry. He’s stepped away to converse with a face that I do know. He and Jeff speak animatedly, Harry’s arms gesturing to whatever story he’s telling. I step over to one of the dressed tables and place what little weight I can onto the chair, needing to cling to something. When I look back up I smile, the two of them now laughing, and probably a little too loud for this charity auction.

“Y/n...right?”

I whip around, a man I’ve seen in pictures on Harry’s phone holds out his hand.

I straighten my back and accept his greeting. “Yes.”

“Finally we meet!” He catches my confusion and chuckles. “I produced Harry’s last album.”

Something clicks in my head, and he’s suddenly more familiar. “Oh! I knew that.”

Tom Hull...Kid Harpoon I process just as he introduces his name.

“I—”

An arm slipping around my waist stunts my question, Harry tipping back a red drink with his free hand while the other squeezes my hip. “Just tell this one to leave you alone,” he jabs.

Tom rolls his eyes, patting the breast of his green suit to look for something, only to show off his middle finger.

“Can’t believe the two of you haven’t met,” Harry says.

“I know, I guess we just missed each other.” Tom nods to me. “Heard you went to quite a few shows.”

“As many as I could.”

An uneasy sting travels down my spine. I did go to many shows, practically following Harry around his entire tour...all on his dime. Lord knows the man can afford it, but I still felt weird about him dishing out thousands of dollars to add me to each plane ride.

“Well I’m happy to see you two kids together,” Tom jokes, patting Harry on his back. “I’ve told him he needs to date women who will fuck him up. That’s where the songs are.”

He saunters off like he did not just say that. No. Absolutely not.

My face burns and it hurts to turn my head, but I still manage to narrow my eyes at Harry.

“Do you want another drink?”

I wait. I give him more than enough seconds to explain what the hell that was. But he’s clueless—ignorant.

“No. I do not.”

***

I do not bother taking my heels off in the car. My plan is to storm into our hotel room the second we park. Possibly locking Harry out...haven’t decided on that part yet.

The vague chit chat he makes with the driver stirs my nerves. It shouldn’t make me angry, and it’s not so much the act as it is his demeanor. He’s too cheery right now and it’s pissing me off.

“Okay,” he grabs my attention from Los Angeles flying past my window, the partition rolling up to leave us completely alone in the back seat. “What’s wrong?”

I bite my tongue, literally. “Nothing.”

“You seemed...irritated.”

“Did I?”

“Y/n.”

I turn to face him, inhaling sharply to calm my coming words. “Why are you with me?”

His face pales, and not a muscle moves. He just stares at me until he finally blinks and starts jerking his jaw around. “What are you talkin’ about?”

I roll my eyes. “The fact that you don’t know, bothers me even more.” I sigh, fighting back tears because I am determined not to cry in front of him. “Tom said that you should date people that fuck you up.”

“O—oh. That’s all?”

I squint, curling my lip. “What do you mean, that’s all? Is that not enough for you? Because that was a lot for me to hear tonight.”

“Baby, he was just messing around.”

I don’t budge.

“Really, it’s nothin’ to think about.” He tucks my hair behind my ear, trailing his hand down to cup my jaw. “Promise. It’s just like when people told you that you could do better than me, or insult me to compliment you.” He shrugs. “It’s just party talk.”

I process his words, supposing he’s not wrong. He did receive quite a few insults in lieu of my praise tonight. Maybe I was just on edge because of the setting; being surrounded by the rich and famous while I struggle to pay my rent each month isn’t exactly grounds for positive thinking.

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” He leans over to kiss me, stroking my face as his lips skim over mine. “Did I tell you how stunning you look tonight?”

***

It’s funny how your brain works. How emotions swoop in and corral your thoughts, like a salesman who pretends to care about you so they can get what they want. My mind was desperate for relief, from hearing Tom’s nervy comment, and I naively allowed Harry to take what he needed in that moment.

Something’s not quite right. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel it.

I’ve been mulling over Harry’s words in my head all weekend, playing them on repeat, hoping they’ll start to make sense, but if anything their value keeps dropping. What worries me the most, is that I don’t know whether he’s trying to protect me or himself. I don’t know if one is any better than the other.

It’s golden hour when we pull up to the beach. I can hear the music before I even open the car door; a volleyball shoots up over the rows of bushes hiding the party, disappearing and popping back up a moment later.

I don’t really want to be here, but I also don’t want to be the girlfriend who won’t support their boyfriend.

“Ready?” Harry asks, and I nod.

The closer we walk, the clearer the music becomes. Harry’s voice takes over the private beach, and I wonder if they’re playing his entire album or just Golden on repeat.

A good bit of the people drinking and chatting I recognize form the event the other night, but there are still plenty of new faces. I take some fruity drink that was offered to me and down half of it before my feet hit sand.

And so the routine continues. I’m introduced to someone, they compliment me, laugh with Harry, congratulate him on pretty much everything he’s ever done, and then repeat with a new face. I do manage to find Sarah at one point after I’ve detached myself from Harry, and the two of us head for the water.

“Are you feeling okay?” Sarah asks once our toes are wet.

I hold my breath and count to five, finishing whatever the hell I’m drinking before I can answer her. “I’m great.”

“Harry said you weren’t doing too well after the auction?”

“Yes, Harry does a lot of talking with people when I’m not around.”

“Alright, spill it,” Sarah says.

I trace the rim of my glass, flicking my eyes over my shoulder to make sure we’re far away from the party. “It’s stupid, really, I’m just a little...I don’t know...Tom said something the other night that rubbed me the wrong way. And Harry doesn’t seem to care.”

“What did he say?”

“Just something about how Harry needs to have relationships with people who will fuck him up.”

“Ooh,” she nods, seemingly well versed in the statement. “Yeah that’s an Iggy Pop quote. Tom mentioned it in Rolling Stone when he was interviewed.” She sips her drink, eyes growing small over the rim. “It was just a cheap line of advice he gave Harry after he was torn up after his last breakup.”

“Wait, so he actually did say that before? Like before the other night?”

Sarah drifts her eyes up in thought, nodding. “Um hm. After him and Camille broke things off.” She shrugs, and gestures to the party exploding on the beach behind us. “Fine Line.”

I have no idea what I’m feeling. No clue what is coursing through my veins, but it’s not blood anymore. The corners of my jaw tingle until my face starts going numb, my breathing shallow and chest tight.

“You okay?”

“I uh, I gotta go.”

Sarah calls after me but I let my name die in the breeze as I march back to the crowd. It’s nearly dark now, and finding Harry among all his people will take forever. I try to look for him, but I’m so distraught I can’t concentrate long enough to make out faces. I give up and head back to his car, only to find it’s locked. The asphalt is warm on my legs as I lower down to the ground, careless to the dirt I’m getting on my clothes and the scratches on my skin.

I’m not in this position for long. Not long enough, at least. Harry rounds the corner of the bushes, speeding up when he sees me.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

He moves to sit down beside me, but I jump up before he can.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

“Whoa! What!? What’s gotten into you lately?”

“I told you! What Tom said the other night!” I’m yelling, too loud for public, I know. But a small part of me wants someone to hear. I want to disrupt the bubble Harry lives in.

“And I told you that it was just nonsense.”

“And that’s why you’re a liar! Sarah just told me, that he said that to you after you and Camille broke up.”

“Okay...and?”

I inhale as deep as I can. It makes me dizzy, adds to my headache. “And, what the fuck am I supposed to do with that? With the knowledge that the only reason you’re even with me, is because I’m gonna fuck you up so bad you’ll get songs out of it?

“Y/n,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “you’re taking this waaay too literally. Trust me.”

“You’re not in a position right now where I even want to trust you.”

“This has gotten completely out of control. I cannot believe you’re this upset over something so stupid.”

“Right there, Harry!” I point at him. “You keep dismissing how I feel! You don’t even care that this upsets me! That I feel like I need to reevaluate our entire relationship!”

“What is there to evaluate!? I haven’t even done anything! You’re blowing up about something that someone else said!”

“But you listened to him!”

“What,” he shrugs, “what do you want?”

“I don’t know what I want, Harry. I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” He pauses, swallowing. “Us?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, us. I can’t be with you if—if you’re just waiting around for me to ruin you emotionally.”

“You’re seriously gonna let someone else’s words do this to us? You’d break up with me because of something another person said?”

“Harry, if I break up with you it’s gonna be because of what you’ve done. I don’t care that he said it, I care that you agree to it. And quite frankly, it’s pretty insulting to Camille. You spent a part of your life with that girl, and you just capitalize off of it. I’m not gonna let you do that to me.”

“I’m not capitalizing off of anyone! What the hell am I supposed to write my songs about? I’m just supposed to not date then?”

“It’s the fact that you sought out a relationship in order to fuel your writing.”

“No, y/n, that’s not what I did.” He narrows his eyes at me, and even in the dark I can see his anger. “I sought you out because I was devastated after me and her broke up. You were only supposed to be a rebound.”

I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me. The music overhead blurs into noise scraping my eardrum, my vision grows weak and foggy. He wanted to hurt me, and he did.

“I expect a thank you when you release your next album.” I spin on my heel and head towards the main road, yanking my phone from my pocket to call an uber. For the second time tonight, my name trails behind me in the wind. I can hear Harry’s steps pick up, and as fast as I walk, he still catches me.

“Y/n, please, let’s go back to the hotel. You can hate me and not talk to me, but please don’t leave.”

I ignore him, trying to set up my ride. “Where the hell are we?”

He glances at my phone, and I can tell he considers keeping the answer to himself, so he can keep me to himself. He drops his voice, much weaker than before. “Carbon Beach. Canyon road.”

Ten minutes.

“Y/n—”

“I am not interested in discussing this with you.”

“I’m so sorry. I—I was mad and was just trying to win the argument. Whichever way I could.”

“Congratulations on your win.”

“Y/n, please, honey. I don’t want to lose you.” He drags his hands down his face, keeping his palms dug into his eyes. When he lets them drop, there are tears spilling down his cheeks. “I can’t lie and say you weren’t, but yes you were a rebound for me, but that went away. Literally weeks after we started dating. I care about you so much. I wouldn’t drag you to every show and event I have if I didn’t. I’m so proud to call you mine. The last thing you are to me is—is just grounds for my writing.”

I stare out across the road. A jeep speeds by and the gush of wind it brings sends chills down my arms.

“Harry, I just...it’s a lot. You’re a lot. Your life is a lot.” I sigh and slowly turn to face him. “It feels like the significance of us being in each other’s lives are so different.”

He kicks a rock across the road, dust flying up around us. “Fuck. Y/n I’m begging—”

“They’re here.” I nod to the headlights approaching us.

“Baby, please.”

“I think I need to be alone right now.” I get in the backseat. “Enjoy your party.”

***

I text him when I’m back at the hotel, having nowhere else to go. I didn’t think my plan of leaving through, because he’ll come back here before the night’s over. But I’m hoping he’ll stay away for a bit, long enough for me to process everything at least.

Deep down I know there’s not as much to the comment as I thought. And Harry’s not that type of guy. But the lack of concern over my feelings...the fact that I was just used as a warm body while he got over Camille...that’s what hurts the most.

There’s a fine line between being sorry because you’ve been called out, and truly being sorry. How sorry can he be when he got what he wanted? Even if I’m not what he envisioned past a few quick fucks, he still comes out on top happy.

I feel like the lifestyle these people live is embedded with secret codes, all of which I’m not wired to pick up on. The money, the mistakes, the adoration... Everything is a lot, and playing catch up is nearly impossible.

I don’t get the alone time I’d wished for. There are curses and clicks of the doorknob right before Harry comes in. He stands at the entrance, staring at me on the lounge chair like he’s unsure if I’m real.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come back here.”

“Where else can I go?” I nod to his phone in his hand. “I texted you.”

“I was driving.”

I sigh, flinching when he turns the lights on. “I know you wanna talk, but I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to,” he says, dropping his keys on a table to come sit beside me. “I’ll talk though.” He inhales, holding his breath for a second before forcing the air out. “I know that me saying I’m sorry means shit to you right now. And to be honest, it probably is coming from me...in a way. You’re right about everything. And whatever you’re feeling, once you figure that out, you’re valid about that too.”

“How would you feel if you were only meant to be temporary in my life? You never mentioned why you were interested in me in the beginning. And no, I never would have gone out with you had I known. I would never want to be someone’s rebound. There’s just something sneaky about that.”

His head drops into his hands, and his shoulders shake right before I hear him cry. “I know, I—I get so caught up in myself sometimes. I’m such a fucking prick.” When he looks up, his eyes are burnt red, glassy and defeated. “I don’t deserve you, and I really don’t deserve anyone.”

“Harry,” I chastise, not expecting the downward spiral he’s ventured onto.

“I swear I care about you. I want you to be happy, and I want to make you happy. I don’t want to be the one to treat you this way. Ever.”

I inhale as deep as I can, holding my breath until it hurts. “I know.” I take his hand in mine. “And I know your heart, and I know you care about me. I—” I sigh, “I’m not comfortable with...just forgetting all of this though. I can forgive you, but I think we need to take a couple steps back. I’ve gotten so swept up in your life and your world, I’m losing my own.”

He nods slowly, accepting my words with a pained face.

“I care about you too.”

He looks up for the first time, catching the last few tears with the back of his hand. “I know you do.”

I offer a small smile and lean in to kiss his cheek. His eyes fall closed, and blindly he turns to press his lips to mine. Our kiss is salty and urgent.

“What did you say to everyone when you left?”

He frowns in thought, like the memory is too far away. “Nothing. Jumped in my car and prayed this is where you’d be.”

I take his hand and pull us both to our feet. “We should go to bed. It’s been a long night. Too long.”

We’re quiet and slow as we shed our clothes and brush our teeth, slipping into bed around two a.m.. Harry doesn’t waste a second in pulling me into his warm chest, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug that has me burying my face into his neck.

We lay there, silent, but when I know I don’t have much longer before sleep overcomes me, I kiss his shoulder, whispering how much I love him before I close my eyes.

[kimthwariru]

Another Day

Jungkook x Reader

Mafia au

Page 13 Elijah and Sophia

“Ok” May sighted and sat down next to you “On a scale from one to ten, how bad do you think it would be if-“

“At least a twenty” you quickly replied. You had finally come clean to May about you and Jungkook. At first she was very skeptical, because May and Mina talked a lot and she has heard a lot of stories about that dude. Not good ones. But May thought that if you actually kissed Jungkook one time, then maybe you would loose your interest for him afterwards. And she was not completely wrong. May knows you, and you’ve done that with guys multiple times before. You would be super into a dude for like a week, and once you kissed them it was like some kind of magic spell was been broken. You don’t know what it is, but your brain completely looses feelings after one interaction. Of course that wasn’t the case with Blake. But he was the only exception. You still think that by kissing Jungkook you would magically stop thinking about him, but the real reason you didn’t want to do it was simply because you didn’t want to give Jungkook that satisfaction. You hate how cocky he is when it comes to women and you didn’t just want to be another one of his prizes. Even if it was as a small thing as a kiss, you didn’t want to give it to him. You had too much pride for that.

“Y/n, you know I’m right about this. Just make out with him one time and then poof, problem solved.” May clearly seemed suspicious of your facial expressions and your luck of response “unless you don’t want to do it because you’re scared you actually like him?”

You quickly jerk your head up “No no it’s not that. I just… well I don’t wanna kiss him.”

“But why? Knowing you it would help you forget him for good. God that sounds fucked up tho don’t it?” She laughed

Yeah it did. You never really understood your self either. How did you manage to completely loose all feelings you had for a guy after one kiss? That fact about yourself still puzzled you. “I just… I don’t want to kiss Jeon fucking Jungkook alright? He’s all cocky and annoying and I don’t wanna do it. To be fair, I’m pretty sure I don’t even think about him because I have a crush on him, I think the reason he’s staying in my mind rent free is because of how much of a prick he is.”

May chuckled “You’re definitely in a tight situation there. But if you whine to me about him again I’m gonna have to arrange a spin the bottle game with just you two”

“I’m telling you May, don’t mind what I said earlier. That night doesn’t even play in my head anymore, now that I told you everything and got it out of my chest, I think I’m good” you flashed a smile to May. And you knew she knew you weren’t being entirely genuine when you said that, but talking about Jungkook more would be pointless. Besides, you have exams coming up and you didn’t want to bother with the Jungkook thing more than you already have, it’s simply ridiculous.

You were seated at the huge collage library. May was a couple of rows in front of you. You two promised you wouldn’t sit next to each other otherwise you would get zero work done, and with midterms being right around the corner you couldn’t afford that. Two hours had now passed and your attention shifts from your book to your phone when you hear it’s buzzing.

Jungkook: picture.file

This man had to be kidding. Isn’t he even embarrassed about the show he put on last night? If you were high texting people you wouldn’t be able to breath towards their direction the next day, let alone fucking text them. You’ve got to give it to the dude, he didn’t care what other people thought.

After a couple of minutes of shifting your gaze between your phone screen and your book, you finally give in and open his message. Your eyes widened as you stared at what looked like a picture of you in the library. What the fuck? Is he a stalker now? You quickly lift your head in order to find him. And after a couple of seconds you see him, starring at you. He had his headphones in and two textbooks piled up at the edge of the desk. He gave you a quick smile before opening one of his books.

y/n: creep

You gently throw your phone next to you and started highlighting a few lines from the book you were reading.

Ding

Another fucking message? What is this dude seriously thinking? That you two are best friends that get to text 24/7?

Jungkook: what r u reading?

You simply double tapped on the screen to view the message, but you didn’t respond. You wanted to make to Jungkook absolutely clear that you wanted to focus on studying. Not a minute passes by when you hear your phone buzz again.

Jungkook: ignoring me, y/n?

God, you could hear him say that sentence. What was his deal? Couldn’t he clearly see you were in the middle of doing something?

y/n I’m trying to study Jungkook.

Jungkook: studying? Sorry my bad

Jungkook: with all the highlighter you were using, I thought you were coloring:)

You mentally roll your eyes and you focus on your book again, entirely ignoring jungkook’s stupid remarks. To your surprise, your phone remained silent for about 20 minutes before it vibrated again. But it wasn’t Jungkook who had texted you this time.

Felix: y/n imma go study in the library rn

Felix: wanna join me? Studying alone sucks

Now that you think about it, you haven’t really seen Felix this week at all. You were either with Hoseok and May or at your room watching Pixar movies. Felix was a decent friend, he helped you get familiar with the classes you were taking, you appreciated that a whole lot.

y/n: one step ahead of you mate

y/n: I’m sitting towards the front. There’s not a lot of people here, I’ll be hard to miss

Felix: you’re hard to miss in general y/n!

There he goes again. May told you a hundred times now that Felix was all flirty with you but you chose to ignore her even though what she was saying wasn’t completely untrue. Felix didn’t make any moves in real life, but when it came to texting, he was obviously saying things that weren’t exactly friendly. Although they were subtle, whenever flirty comments did occur you couldn’t just brush them off. You felt awkward because you truly viewed him as a friend and you always didn’t know how to reply and what reaction to give.

About 10 minutes later you feel a tap on your shoulder

“Wow you’ve already finished chapter 6?” Felix whispered while sitting down next to you.

“Yeah I mean up until chapter 4 I pretty much knew everything already” you said while starring at your book.

“Ah life seems nice when you’re smart” he opened his backpack and grabbed a notebook

“I’m not smart” you chuckled as quietly as you could

“Whoah is that Jungkook? Holy shit I haven’t seen that dude for so long… I heard he’s dating Yuna now” Felix suddenly said.

You froze in place. Jungkook was doing what? Well you definitely know they slept together but dating? You thought Jungkook didn’t exactly date. You shake your head. Why the fuck do you even care about that? “Oh he is?” You say in a monotonous voice.

“I swear Mina just won’t shut up about it” he chuckled “If Mina says they’re dating then I believe her, she’s a super spy that one”

You clutch your pen in your fist. ‘You know, I read once that the best kiss is the one that has been exchanged between the eyes before it reached the lips, and y/n, I think I've kissed you about 10 times already….’. He said that to you 7 days ago. Fucking 7 days ago… and now he is dating someone? That man was the definition of an absolute playboy. The fact that you thought about that night constantly was now disgusting to you. You can’t believe you fooled yourself enough to think for even a second that he was being sincere.

“Wow… I can’t believe this. He’s fucking trash” May said in rage while you took a large sip of the Cafeteria’s soup.

For some reason, you were not nearly as angry as May was about this. You gave it a bit of thought, and it’s definitely for the better. Jungkook is no good for you, you deserve much better than some asshole who is willing to say anything in order to get laid. As far as you’re concerned, you dodged a bullet. “May, chill. Its just as I told you this morning, I don’t care about Jungkook. It was just a phase!”

“Well I just can’t believe he would even date Yuna… I mean that girl is SO annoying. Have you heard the way she speaks? For real, she’s dumber than a pile of unscented hand soaps.” May sighted “can’t believe Jungkook would go for that”

You roll your eyes “Jungkook would go for anything May, don’t you get it? He is textbook fuckboy…” you made a pause “Unscented hand soaps? Really? That’s the analogy you’re going with?”

“Why? It’s a brilliant analogy if you think about it! Like let’s be honest who would even go for freaking unscented hand soaps? Don’t you want your hands to smell nice after you wash them? It’s just so satisfying to have that clean smell!”

“One hundred percent agree” Hoseok suddenly said when he finally approached your table “I have no idea what we are talking about but hand soaps should be scented 100%” he sat down next to May.

“Exactly” May gushed “See? Hobi gets it”

“See y/n? I get it!” Hoseok said all proud

Both you and May laughed. You’re sure Hoseok would know if Jungkook was in a relationship with Yuna, but you didn’t even bother to ask him. You didn’t care enough for that.

“So, what are you ladies doing on this Friday night?” Hoseok asked and you knew where he was going with this. Another party… and to be honest, you kind of wanted to go out. You’ve been studying non stop, a little partying would do more good than harm.

“Do you have any suggestions?” You voiced excitingly

“Well, me and the boys are throwing a ‘welcome home’ party for Jimin. He actually asked me to let you guys know. So? You’re coming right?”

“Of course we are!” May sounded happier than ever “we’re going to be there before 10!”

—

“Y/n it’s literally 10:30 we are so freaking late!!” you heard May’s screaming voice coming from the living room. You had been trying to find your favorite dress for the past 20 minutes. After a couple of heart attacks you finally found it lying under your chair. You swear you would’ve canceled had you not found it. That dress hugs your body perfectly and you just wanted to look as good as possible tonight.

“I’m so sorry” you puppy eyed May as you put your shoes on. “I’m all ready now, we can go!”

“You’re lucky you’re hot y/n” she smirked at you “Let’s go!”

The fact that you are greeted yet with another humongous mansion doesn’t even surprise you anymore. You notice that the party was much more crowded than last time. Damn, Jimin must be popular. You and May slowly made your way to the area where the usual boys were sitting. You hate that you locked eyes with Jungkook almost immediately. His lips curled into a small smile as he held your gaze. You hate yourself for admitting how hot he is. Sitting there, legs slightly open, a hand over his lap while his other softly holding his drink. His sleeves rolled up so his beautiful ink would show. You could fucking paint him.

“If it isn’t the perfect duo!” Namjoon shouted over the loud music “How have you ladies been?” He smiled, his dimples very visible.

“Oh you know…collage life isn’t that exciting” you say, finally snapping away from that intense eye contact you and Jungkook had.

“What are you talking about y/n? Don’t you remember Miller throwing up during Econ? THAT was flipping exciting” Hoseok chuckled

“Sounds marvelous” Jin scoffed. “Hello y/n! Nice to see you again” he handed you a drink.

“Aww you remember what drink I like!!”

Jin laughed “Honey, you drink lemon vodka, trust me, it’s not that hard to remember”

“Says the man who strictly drinks scotch” Yoongi interrupted “don’t let Jin Hyung tease you y/n. I think lemon vodka is a great choice of beverage”

You made an awkward grin “Thanks Yoongi!”

With the corner of your eyes you could see Jungkook starring at you up and down carefully, as if he was a lion and you were a lamb. His eyes were fixated on your hips and slowly moved up, towards your face. When your eyes met, his dopey expression evaporated into a cocky smile. You quickly turned your face the other way, only to see Jimin pacing sloppily towards you.

“Y/n!!! Oh my god I’m so glad you came!!” Jimin hugged you, the smell of alcohol being stronger than his cologne.

“Jimin! Hey…. Great party by the way…uhm… welcome back to Korea???”

Jimin cackled with laughter and you don’t think it was because the joke you made was that funny,,, Jimin had clearly been drinking a bit too much.

“Hey uhm-“ Taehyung’s rushed voiced suddenly made its appearance out of nowhere. You turned around, a worried expression on his face. He was looking at the boys “Busan said they let him go, something about Matahashi making a deal with the Islanders.”

Jin quickly got up from the couch “No, no. Any movement goes through us first.” He frowned his eyebrows

You peaked at May who was just as confused as you were.

“I know, that’s what I told them. They said Matahashi moved his own strings. He payed them good money-“

“To hell with Matahashi alright? Isn’t Bangtan supposed to be leading house?” Jungkook seriously sounded pissed.

“Let’s just kill those bastards already !” Jimin shouted while downing yet another shot.

Suddenly, everyone looked at each other worried, and then stared at you and May awkwardly.

“He’s joking!!” Hoseok made a fake laugh and patted Jimin on his shoulder “it’s… it’s an inside joke you know- a figure of speech” Hoseok reassured you and May. “Right Jimin?” he seemed to be squeezing Jimins shoulder

Jimin looked around confused. “What?”

“For fucks sake” Yoongi pulled Jimin by his hand and whispered something to his ear.

Now May could call you delusional all she wanted, but this simply wasn’t normal. You knew something was clearly happening and they didn’t want you to know. “Everything ok…?” You ask

“Y/n! Hey… long time no see” Tae wrapped his arm around you, in efforts to change the subject “I know you must’ve missed me like crazy” he winked

You laugh and shake your head “ Not a day passed where I didn’t think of you” you joked, earning a laugh from Namjoon and a glare from Jungkook who was sitting right in front of you.

“Jay kay! Please tell me you’ve got weed on you man.” Taehyung whined

Jungkook raised his eyebrow “you never give me when I ask you Hyung”

Taehyung formed a boxy smile and sat down on Jungkook’s lap, playfully ruffling his hair “ohhh come on Jungkook!! You’re not going to miss 2 grams”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and reached his pocket “here” he passed a small black box to Taehyung. “That’s the best stuff you can find in Seoul” Jungkook sounded all proud.

“Yeah yeah, tell Yutashi I said hi” Taehyung jumped up “see you around y/n” he said in a rush before storming off.

You look down at Jungkook with angry eyes. You suddenly remembered the high texts he had sent you the other day, and how he was probably proud of that as well. How he was probably like that to every girl he met. The thought disgusted you.

“What?” He questioned the way you were looking at him. Jungkook seated down and you standing on top of him, the only girl in his view being you and only you. “You look even better from this angle” his usual annoying smirk while he said that.

“I see you haven’t invited your girlfriend” you find the perfect time to tease him.

Jungkook seemed suprised by your words “My what?”

“Yuna? Aren’t you guys a thing now or whatever?”

Jungkook let out a laugh “Me and Yuna? I’d rather chop my dick off”

You raised an eyebrow. You could tell he was being honest. Gosh, Mina just loves to oversell everything doesn’t she? You felt kind of embarrassed. You took a sip of your drink and then suddenly saw Jungkook getting up from his chair, his face reaching yours “why? Were you jealous?” He whispered in you ear

You nearly choked as you downed the vodka. Jealous? Who did this dude thought he was? Please, you couldn’t care less about him and Yuna. “Fuck off” you made a single step back in order to get away from him but he immediately stopped you by grabbing your arm

“You know, it turns me on when you talk to me like that” he lightly caressed your shoulder with his thump.

“Let go you dick” you shook your shoulder in order to free yourself from his grip. Why does your stomach feel all weird? You can’t allow yourself to be weak like that.

“Oh yeah sorry, tell your boyfriend I’ll behave myself tonight” he scoffed and took a sip of his drink looking very annoyed

“Boyfriend?” You accidentally think aloud

“Oh you know, mister perfect. That Felix kid from second year” you could see his jaw tensing up as he said that.

Now that was a fucking first. Why did Jungkook think you and Felix were even a thing? Why would he even care to mention that? You swear that man puzzled you every time you talked “Felix is my friend” you simply reply

Jungkook stared at you for a second, his jaw finally loosened a bit as he leaned his face closer to you. His cent making you all dizzy….“Good, he doesn’t deserve you” his eyes almost jet black.

Weird. You swear you were at a party with a bunch of people surrounding you, yet it felt like you were alone with him. For a second, you felt like the world had stop spinning. “Who are you to judge what I deserve or not?” You manage to say after taking a big breath.

The edges of his lips curled up “I just know Felix isn’t for you, he’s too vanilla and you’re too…” he made a pause, his gaze moving from your eyes to your lips “interesting”

You gulped. You can’t even lie to yourself at this point. Jungkook starring at your lips, his face centimeters away and his cologne dancing in your nostrils… for a second, you thought of leaning in, letting your lips touch. Maybe if you’d done that you would magically free yourself from whatever power he seemed to have over you. No, you think. You won’t give in. No matter how hard it was you took one step back. “Whatever…” you were trembling inside, but you tried to make your voice as steady as possible “I don’t need you to tell me whether I’m interesting or not”

Jungkook lightly jerked his head up, you could see his Adam’s apple slowly going up and down. His jawline still sharp and his soft looking neck was compelling you to leave marks on his skin. After he let out a small sight he faced you again. “You’ll drive me crazy y/n…”

What did he even mean by that? You couldn’t read this man. You swear it was easy for you to analyze anyone else, but when it came to Jungkook, the whole thing was a blur. “What do you mean?” You ask. If you were being honest, the way he was looking at you made you want to kneel

Just when he was about to say something, Jin interrupted “Jungkook, we need to go”

Jungkook quickly turned around to face Jin. His expression and aura immediately changed, he took a step back to create more space between you and him. “Go where?”

“Busan. You and me. I’m not going to say it again, be at the parking lot in 5” he said and stormed off.

“You better go, he sounded serious” You told him

He looked down “In ‘Fight for us’, do you remember that scene where Elijah wanted to tell Sophia everything? He was ready to literally quit saving the world just so she knew how much he loved her before it was too late?” He said all of a sudden. You were confused at the change of subject, but you liked Fight for us so much that you ignored his change in behavior.

“Of course I remember, I was crying for like 10 minutes straight. He never told her the truth, he just left-Poor Sophia, she didn’t know a thing”

Jungkook shook his head “Do you think what he did was wrong?”

“Choosing his duty over love? I don’t think it’s necessarily wrong, but I wish he would’ve stayed with her you know? I wish he would’ve told her everything”

“if you ask me, he didn’t choose duty. He chose Love” Jungkook made a pause to inspect your face

You looked very confused at what he just said “What do you mean? He left. He went to save the world and never saw her again. How is that choosing love?”

“He had two decisions. Either stay with Sophia and tell her how he felt, maybe even earn a kiss and a couple of hours of love with her and die. Or, he could save the world, and Sophia would live. She would get to be alive and live her life. He chose to sacrifice everything so that Sophia wouldn’t die. That’s choosing love”

You were petrified. You never thought about it like that before. Jungkook’s words came out of the blue and they startled you. God, this man never ceases to surprise you. “You’re right….” You couldn’t help but agree

“I wish I wasn’t…” he looked down, you swear he looked kind of sad when he said that. “Anyway, I have to go” he left before you could even say anything.

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[thephantomessoftheopera]

Notes on Gaston Leroux’s “The Phantom of the Opera” - Chapter 13: “Apollo’s Lyre”

Image of the Apollo statue on the rooftop of the Palais Garnier from Wikimedia Commons

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The chapter “Apollo’s Lyre” constitutes the basis for the “rooftop scene” between Raoul and Christine in the ALW version, but in the book, it is really all about Erik. It’s quite possibly the most important chapter in the novel because we meet our title hero face-to-face for the first time, and because Erik overhearing Christine‘s plan to escape provides a turning-point for the plot.

The symbol of Apollo's Lyre is not only present in the Apollo statue on the highest point of the rooftop (that Erik is supposedly clinging to here), but also adorns the chandelier both in the Palais Garnier and in the original production of the musical.

At the end of the preceding chapter, Raoul had vowed to take Christine away, but she is still at war with herself about the idea. She wants to leave because she is afraid, but at the same time, warns Raoul that he will probably need to force her to leave since she isn’t emotionally ready to let go:

““But if I refuse to go with you when the time comes for you to take me away, you must make me go!” [...] she spoke these words with a forcefulness that seemed to be directed against herself.”

Every time Raoul offers to take her away right then and there, Christine refuses with an excuse of why it’s not possible to leave just now. Yet she is afraid that the next time she goes to Erik, she may never leave again. Erik seems to make her feel very deeply - but too much feeling can be very terrifying, especially if it’s a wild ride on that emotional rollercoaster of ecstasy, horror, pity, despair and passion that he sends her on. It’s no wonder she rationally wants to get out before it consumes her, and yet is afraid of losing it.

While she begins telling Raoul the whole story from her perspective, they repeatedly think they hear sighs, but still remain in the same place. This is a bit odd, considering how they kept running around before, but now, Christine insists that they stay, which is a bit curious. It is possible that she thought they were safe - but considering her general unwillingness to leave, I think it is even possible that she might be subconsciously sabotaging her own escape plan.

When Christine speaks about how she first met Erik, it becomes clear that masquerading as the Angel of Music was not initially Erik‘s idea. When Christine heard Erik in her dressing-room for the first time three months ago, he sang and spoke to her like a real man, except that he had this beautiful angelic voice and was hiding in the passage behind her room, so that he could not be seen. The first person to suggest that he might indeed be the Angel of Music is Mama Valerius, who prompts Christine to ask Erik if he is the Angel her father had sent for her. Erik jumps at the opportunity presented to him and confirms that her assumption is correct, and asks if she will let him teach her. She consents, and together they make amazing progress, developing both Christine’s technique and her inspiration to hitherto unknown heights.

One day, Christine sees Raoul at the Opera, and eagerly tells Erik about it. I bet he bitterly cursed himself then for passing himself off as an Angel, leaving enough space in Christine’s heart for a real man. But his threats to leave cause her to despair and to try to ignore Raoul - also because a marriage to him would be out of her reach anyway. Now it’s Erik’s turn to whine and accuse Christine of being in love with Raoul in the same way we’ve seen Raoul do before. But just like with Raoul, she won’t have that and even challenges Erik that she will ask Raoul to accompany her to Perros. According to her, Erik’s jealous reaction made her realize that she loved Raoul. I wonder if madly jealous Raoul also made her realize that she might possibly be just a little bit in love with two very different men?

Subconsciously, she seems to kind of know already that Erik is not really an angel, because when the chandelier falls, she is half-mad with panic and terribly afraid that it may have killed “the Voice” (and it would be a bit difficult to kill a heavenly being even if you dropped a chandelier on it). She also admits that then, Raoul and Erik were both “the equal halves of her heart” (and I think they still are, beneath all the complications that have arisen in the meantime). She runs to her dressing-room because that is where she is most likely to find “the Voice”, and when she hears the sounds of Erik singing and playing the “Resurrection of Lazarus” on his violin, she follows his voice through the mirror without being able to say how exactly she disappeared through it. She suddenly finds herself being gripped by a man in a black cloak and a full-face mask and tries to fight back, but then faints. When she wakes, she is resting on the ground near a fountain, and Erik is gently tending to her, but doesn’t reply to her questions so as not to give himself away as “the Voice”. Christine recognizes César the horse, and realizes that even though she never believed in the ghost, she had heard the rumours about him stealing the horse.

Erik takes Christine to the house by the lake, first on César’s back (that’s what he needed the horse for, after all) and then in the famous boat (which is rowed in the novel). She is no longer terrified, but feels strangely peaceful - an effect which she attributes to the possibility of having been drugged, even though she admits that at the same time, she was still in full possession of her senses.

“Lake Averne”, the name of the lake under the Opera House, is a play on words as well as meaning. First, “lac averne” is almost the same as “la caverne”, which means “the cavern”. There is also a real lake named “Lago d’Averno” in Italy, and in Roman mythology, that lake is one of the entrances to the Underworld. This fits with the fact that Erik also bears characteristics of Charon, the ferryman to the Underworld, whose name can be literally translated as “with glowing eyes”. The iconic boat ride certainly resembles the passage into the Hades, which is even alluded to in the novel.

The water tank below the Palais Garnier. Image from atlasobscura.com

Let’s stay in the Underworld for a moment. “The Phantom of the Opera” can also be seen as a variation on the story of Hades and Persephone (Christine’s ship in “Love Never Dies” is not called “Persephone” for nothing). Hades, the god of the Underworld, fell in love with the young and beautiful Persephone and wanted to marry her, but as the goddess of spring, she wasn’t willing to abandon the world above and go to live in the Underworld. Therefore Hades abducted her, she finally consented to marry him and became queen of the Underworld. Due to the intervention of her infuriated mother Demeter, it was finally decided that she would divide her time between living on earth for some months every year and living in the Underworld for the rest of the time.

When they arrive, Erik sets a confused Christine down in his brightly lit drawing-room, which has been decorated with an enormous amount of golden baskets full of flowers. It is not quite clear where all the flowers come from, so I guess he bought them all for her. With a salary of 20,000 francs, he could probably afford the luxury of spending so much on flower decorations… He tells her that she is in no danger, as long as she doesn’t touch his mask. When Christine realizes that the Voice is not an angel, she starts crying. Erik then kneels down in front of her and proceeds to tell her without further ado who he is, begs her to forgive him, and lays his heart at her feet. He confesses how much he loves her, and how wrong his actions were, but that he did everything out of love for her. It seems that Erik was rather anxious to reveal the truth that he is not really the Angel of Music and end his deception, but at the same time, was waiting for an opportunity that would allow him to explain everything without the risk of her running away from him forever. Keep in mind that he took on the role of the Angel of Music for just a couple of months, not years as it is commonly assumed.

Christine then stands up to demand her freedom, and is taken aback when he actually concedes it to her, telling her that she is free to leave. But after all, she does not leave because he starts to play the harp and sing for her. The piece he is singing here is the “Canzone del Salice” from Rossini’s “Otello”, in which Desdemona laments the cruelty of love. It is often assumed that the „Otello“ Leroux is referencing here is the more famous “Otello” by Verdi, but that one didn’t premiere until 1887, while the story is definitely set before 1886. Furthermore, Rossini’s version of the “willow song” is the only one that starts with a harp solo. The song is included in the playlist, listen to it here:

https://open.spotify.com/track/25ILZhCIWIRjJVK8SqDWzn?si=U5EPiO_ySBOlIy5XvI1BGw&dl_branch=1

The next morning, Christine awakes on the couch in „her“ bedroom (aka the “Louis-Philippe room”) where Erik must have carried her after she had fallen asleep. When she can‘t get out, she suffers a fit of hysterics, although it seems that she has simply been unable to locate the door set within the wall. Erik has been out shopping for her, which is a rather cute scene when he comes back with all the boxes for her while she yells at him. He calmly tells her to get ready for lunch, and she slams the door in his face so she can take a bath in peace. She places a pair of scissors within reach so that she could kill herself if Erik “stopped behaving like an honourable man”. Her concern is understandable, being alone with the man who is madly in love with her, however it is important to note that Erik never physically forces himself on her throughout the story.

Remarkably, Erik’s house had both hot and cold running water, something that was still very rare then, which suggests that he actually lived in better hygienic conditions than most people at that time, and that he was a skilled engineer.

When she finally joins him, he tells her that she does not need to be afraid, and that all he asks for is that she will spend 5 days with him. After that, he hopes that she will come back to see “poor Erik” from time to time, shedding a few tears beneath his black mask as he speaks. He serves Christine lunch in the drawing-room, consisting of crayfish, chicken wings and Tokay wine, but he himself does again not eat or drink. From their conversation, we learn that Erik has taken on his name “by chance”, whatever that means. The meaning of the name is “sole ruler” which is quite fitting for him.

When Christine has finished eating, Erik invites her to see his room, and she doesn’t hesitate as she instinctively trusts him. Apparently Erik has a very gothic taste as far as room decorating goes, and all this also plays heavily into the death symbolism of his character. Erik sleeping in a coffin is reminiscent of vampire stories, especially because it seems to be a choice and not a necessity. There is also an organ with the score of “Don Juan Triumphant” on it, written in Erik’s customary red ink(?). Erik tells her that he started composing it 20 years ago. Christine asks him to play her something from his “Don Juan”, but Erik refuses because “some music is so formidable that it consumes everyone who approaches it”. It is quite significant that the “sing for me” motif is absent from the novel version, in contrast to the ALW version where it is very strong. Erik, in the novel, has no plans for Christine to sing any of his music. He wants her companionship and her love, and he wants to sing together with her and lose himself in their shared passion for music, but he definitely does not see her as an instrument of sorts. He did help advance her career, but not with the intention of having her perform his work.

Erik makes it clear that his own music is very different from Mozart’s „Don Giovanni“ and from “opera music” in general. “Don Juan Triumphant” can be seen as an allusion to Lord Byron’s epic poem “Don Juan” (in which, incidentally, Don Juan is sold as a slave to the sultana of Constantinople).

He sits down at the piano and starts singing the duet from “Otello” with Christine. There is of course more than one duet in “Otello”, but this one is most likely “Non arrestare il colpo/Notte per me funesta” from Act III (here: https://open.spotify.com/track/151M60b3qxzqKLDFwIVuUB?si=WX4TDWCeQVmIChqd6u7CyQ&dl_branch=1 and here: https://open.spotify.com/track/2Ep1OncGZCNR9yFevG6Pb6?si=QzG2JztuQ42MDoiVrLAaew&dl_branch=1 ) In this scene, Othello accuses Desdemona of betraying him, while she tries to convince him that she is innocent. She realizes that she has fallen victim to Iago’s plot, but Othello does not believe her and stabs her. This opera, for once, is in Italian, while most of the other pieces that appear in the “Phantom” are sung in French.  

The unmasking in the novel happens while Christine is swept up in the passion of her duet with Erik. She “stepped closer to him, attracted and fascinated, enticed by the idea of dying at the center of such passion. But before dying [she] wanted to see his face…”

It’s not like she is sneaking up to him out of pure curiosity, but rather reacting to an instinctive wish to pull away the barrier between them. The scene is even more tragic because with a normal face, the passionate mood that Christine was in would have potentially led to her kissing him. But sadly, his face is anything but normal, so Christine recoils in horror instead. Erik’s reaction to the unmasking is violent and horrific as he goes mad with rage at her, even hurting his own face with her fingernails - an expression of his self-loathing. Throughout the scene, Christine seems fixated on the horror of his face more than his behaviour, though. Ashamed of himself, Erik crawls out of the room and shuts himself up in his bedroom.

“Apollo’s Lyre” by Annie Stegg Gerard

Erik’s appearance as described in the novel is indeed bordering the realm of the fantastic and supernatural. He is so stuffed with death symbolism that it is hard to take everything literally. Christine’s description makes it rather hard to see him as “real” because he seems to look like something straight out of a nightmare.

It is important to note that Erik is not just run-of-the-mill ugly, but that he is very clearly associated with death in many ways - from sleeping in a coffin and having funeral-style decor in his room to actually looking like a „living corpse“. Erik and Christine can be seen as a literal expression of the artistic topos „death and the maiden“, which especially towards the end of the 19th century associated death very strongly with the erotic (see https://eclecticlight.co/2020/01/05/paintings-for-our-time-death-and-the-maiden/ for a very good overview of the motif). Death here is usually represented as either a skeleton or corpse, or as an angel - which is very much in line with Leroux’s Erik.

”Girl and Death” by Edvard Munch

Combined with the fact that Erik‘s music creates feelings of passion, rapture and ecstasy in Christine, it is not a big stretch to conclude that Erik is associated not only with death, but also with sexuality. The duality of sex as both a life-creating and life-threatening force was acutely perceived by the people of that period. Love and death are connected, and both are represented in Erik‘s character. ALW‘s musical adaptation recognized this strongly erotic undercurrent in the story and translated it very aptly into songs such as „Music of the night“ or „Point of no return“. The way in which Christine describes her lessons with Erik - that they “awakened an ardent, voracious, and sublime life” in her, and made her live in a “kind of ecstatic dream” can also be interpreted as her romantic awakening, with all the frightening emotional chaos attached to it.

Raoul, on the other hand, is more associated with purity and propriety - which is reflected in how he views Christine, and the standards that she must conform to in his opinion.

Before seeing Erik’s face, Christine admits that she *would* have come back, but that now, she would never return because “you don’t go back into a grave with a corpse that loves you”. Note how she switches from the first person to the impersonal “you” in this sentence - “you” might not do that, but we already know she did in fact go back more than once. And she is still able to see something of the angel in him because he does not take advantage of the situation, but leaves her alone, turning to his music again.

And then, “music has the power to abolish everything in the outside world except its sounds, which go straight to the heart”. Erik starts playing the finale of “Don Juan Triumphant” where “ugliness, lifted on the wings of love, had dared to look beauty in the face”. Through the music, Christine can glimpse into the depths of Erik’s heart and soul, feel his torment and suffering, and is overwhelmed with compassion.

Once again, she is the one to tear down the wall between them. She pushes open the door to Erik’s room and asks him to show his face, sincerely thinking that she can handle it - but it turns out, she really isn’t quite able to when there’s no music between them. But she manages to put on a brave facade and lie to him about being able to look at him without horror. She despises herself for her lies, but then she also does what she must in order to be set free. Erik takes her for walks along the shore of the underground lake, and for carriage rides to the Bois de Boulogne (that’s where they ran into Raoul in Chapter 9). After two weeks, Erik finally trusts her so much that he is willing to set her free (with conditions, of course). It’s really heartbreaking when she mentions how he dared to try to make her look at him even when he wasn’t singing, like a “timid dog”. At this point, he is in her power just as much as she is in his.

When she finally leaves, she is moved more by his tears than by his threats, and his pain is what gets her to come back in the first place: “Those sobs attached me to him more strongly than I thought when I said good-bye to him.” Part of why she is afraid to leave is that she fears it will kill him if she leaves him.

At the end of the chapter, Raoul asks the fateful question that sums up the tragedy of Erik and Christine:

“You’re afraid, but do you love me? If Erik were handsome, would you love me?” “Why tempt fate, Raoul? Why ask about things that I keep hidden at the back of my mind, like sins?”

Christine’s reply along the lines of “Don‘t ask” was cut from the de Mattos translation. It clearly evidences that Christine has conflicted feelings for Erik that go beyond only horror or pity, and that she prefers to suppress them so she doesn't have to deal with them. The statement also shows that if Erik had not been cursed with his face, then things might have looked very different for him and Christine. Attentive readers of de Mattos might nevertheless notice that her next line „If I did not love you, I would not give you my lips“ evades addressing the „what ifs“ Raoul posed, but it still makes her appear less conflicted than she really is. Christine’s heart is a pretty deep ocean of secrets, and at the back of her mind, there seem to be quite a few things that she is unwilling to admit to herself, as Raoul suspected before:

“You obviously love him, and your fear, your terror - all that is still love, of the most exciting kind! The kind you don’t admit to yourself.”

I haven‘t really counted, but this must be like the fifth time that Raoul insists on his suspicion that Christine is in love with Erik, and he just can‘t get a „no“ out of her. That “no” is given very directly though when he asks her if she hates him. She kisses Raoul to prove that she loves him, at the same time telling him that the kiss is just a one-time thing („for the first and last time“). Then “the night is torn apart”, and the last thing they see is a pair of glowing eyes looking down on them from Apollo’s lyre - which are clearly Erik’s, who has overheard the entire conversation…

Image from wikipedia

Next chapter >>

[galactic-magick]

Gardens and Crimes: Poison Ivy x Reader

Request: Poison Ivy x female reader? The reader is a vigilante who has a soft spot for plants. They are trying to start a community garden for Gotham, and Poison Ivy takes notice. They bond over that, and eventually the reader reveals that they have to turn her in. Hurt/no comfort, please.

Summary: You start a community garden with Pamela Isley, but find out about her villainous alter ego and have to make a difficult decision.

Words: 1200+

Warnings: fem!Reader, lots of angst, hurt/no comfort

Author’s Notes: Present is in normal text and past is in italics

-

-

-

You didn’t want it to come to this, but as you stand in front of Pamela’s door, you know it’s the right thing to do.

You glance over at the beautiful gardens and flowers surrounding her whole house, vines running up the walls and moss on all the stone. Her greenhouse is full of even more plants, although you may never get to see it all again.

You sigh, knocking on the door, trying to remember all the good memories one last time…

-

You’re late. You can’t be late.

You’ve been planning this for months, and you can’t afford to screw it up now. You want to start a community garden in Gotham, but there hasn’t been one in years. Your only chance is to bring your idea to the attention of the city board members and get as many people interested as possible, even though most ideas from commoners get shut down no matter what.

Rushing into the room, you start passing out flyers down the row, trying to be as quiet as possible, but your efforts fall a bit short.

“Miss, is there a reason you’re causing a ruckus at our meeting?” one of the board members asks.

You sit down with a thump, shaking your head, “Sorry. Is the citizen suggestion time over?”

“You just missed it-“

“Oh, perfect!” you shoot back up, running to the front of the room. “I have a proposal for a community garden in Gotham. I’ve done all the math and drawn all the plans, it’ll barely cost any city funds and it won’t be difficult to build-“

“Ma’am, I already told you we’re done with suggestions. You may come back next month with you idea,”

“No you don’t understand!” you cut them off again. “Gotham needs something like this. Plants and community make people happy, and it’s so dreary around here most of the time. Have you ever considered that if people were happier overall, there’d be a little less crime?”

“I don’t think that growing some plants is going to solve our high crime rates, miss. I don’t see The Batman killing criminals with vegetables,”

You huff, placing your plans on the desk, “Please at least consider it,”

“Yeah, you should consider it,” a red-haired woman pipes up, strutting up to the front next to you. “I think it’s a great idea,”

“Me too!” someone else calls.

“We should do it!” a few other people say.

You’re overwhelmed by the amount of support in a short amount of time, and eventually the board has no choice but to accept your request and start work on the new garden.

“Thanks for standing up with me,” you say to the red-haired woman as you walk back out to the street.

“Well, ya know, sometimes it just takes one other person fighting for the right thing to inspire everyone else,” she smiles. “My name’s Pamela Isley. Doctor Pamela Isley. I’m an expert in plant life and I’d love to give you some tips on the community garden, if you’d like,”

“Oh my gosh, yes!” you jump in excitement. “Are you free right now, actually? I was going to grab some ice cream if the meet went well, or to cheer myself up if it went bad-“

“Of course!”

You thought you had a soft spot for plants, but Pamela is on an entirely different level. She’s extremely passionate about them, and she knows everything there is to know.

She tells you all her suggestions for the new garden, explaining how to balance the ecosystem best and what kinds of rules there should be for what should and shouldn’t be planted. She agrees with your choice of base soil and the dimensions for the different sections, and she asks you all about your favorite flowers and trees.

You spend way longer there than most people would at a casual ice cream outing, but you’re barely paying attention to the time. You enjoy talking to her more than anyone else in your life, and you might even be falling for her a bit.

-

That night, though, everything that happened during the day takes a back seat.

You have another job to do as well, and that’s helping the city as much as you can as a vigilante.

You may not be on the same level as the famous Batman, but you’ve put away your fair share of criminals. You know how to fight and defend yourself, and you’ve been able to save quite a few lives.

You’ve been hearing rumors of a supervillain who’s been using plant pheromones to control people, which is right up your alley in terms of interests.

You find one of the victims lying down on the street, and you help him sit up.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“This lady- she made me breathe something in- and next thing I know I’m out here,”

“What did she look like?”

“I couldn’t see her very well, but she was wearing green and had red hair I believe,”

It couldn’t be…

No. You’re sure there’s several redheads in Gotham who like plants. You’re overthinking it.

“Okay, sir, I’m going to help you get to a hospital, okay? They’ll check you out and make sure it’s all out of your system,”

You hoist him upright, calling an ambulance and trying to push away your questioning thoughts.

-

Within the month the community garden is built, and you and Pamela get to work on advertising and planting your first flowers.

You’ve bonded quite a bit over a short time, and a few of your get-togethers have even turned into dates. She’s introduced you to an entire new world of nature, and you’ve never adored the color green as much as you do now.

All is well and good until the one night on patrol that broke your heart…

-

“Oh, Y/N!” Pamela smiles, letting you in. “Hey! Did I forget about a meeting or something?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I just need to talk to you,”

“Okay,” she nods, motioning for you to sit down and sitting down herself. “Wait, before you say it, is it because we’re moving too fast? I don’t mind taking it slow if you’re uncomfortable-“

“No Pam, that’s not it. I actually really like you, might love you even-“ you stop yourself. You don’t want to make this harder than it has to be. “But I can’t let you keep hurting this city,”

“What do you mean? Why would I hurt anyone?

“I saw you last night, Pam. You were controlling and killing people in order to break into a lab,”

Her mouth hangs open, “I…I can explain-“

“I tried to stop you, but you got away. I can’t let you get away now,”

“You…you were her? That vigilante?”

“Yes,”

“Ah, I see now,” she scoffs. “You’re one of those stupid crime fighters who couldn’t care less about all of us. You think you’re on this high horse of elite morality so you can lock up whoever you want-“

“That is not true,” you glare. “I do care about you. I even agree with your fight for helping nature. But I can’t let you go about it like this,”

“Please, Y/N, don’t make me go to Arkham-“ she begs, but you’ve already handcuffed her.

“I’m sorry. I have to turn you in,”

A single tear falls down your cheek as she stares at you in disbelief.

“Maybe we’ll find each other again one day.”

[rogue-durin-16]

FIREWORKS AND STREAMERS

Request: I have been insecure about my curly hair lately and was wondering if you can you write something with one of the weasley twins where the reader is insecure about her curly hair and one of the twins makes her feel better.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff!Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Requested by: @wildcat1434

Fred Weasley: @whiskeyn-rain @lumos-solemn

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog

Warnings: none

A/N: So like, incoming fluff bc this idea was cute and sometimes I do be needing fluff, that's about it, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The relationship between me and my hair had always been... Bumpy, you could say.

There were periods in which I would find it quite lovely; during those times I would let my curls free, showing them off with a proud demeanor, knowing my hair was unique. Those times began to turn less and less usual since the middle of third year, though they were still there.

However, after the summer prior to my sixth year, those moments had banished; I only wished to hide my hair, and my friends ended up noticing. They told me surely there would be a spell or potion able to change my hair.

As if they had summoned it, the next day in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall introduced us to what seemed like my salvation; Crinus Muto, an advanced spell that modified the caster's hair with no restrictions.

My best friend advised me against using it, claiming it wouldn't help my insecurity— if only, it would worsen it.

I really wanted to do as she had told me and completely dismiss the spell's existence, but two nights after I had a big mental breakdown about it, caused by the most stupid thing ever.

"Is Weasley staring at you or am I blind?" One of my friends whispered, her eyes trained on the Gryffindor table.

I didn't even bother to look up, not wanting to know whether it was true or not, before responding with a quiet "You're blind."

"I mean, it's hard to tell with two rows of students between us but," She nudged me, urging me to avert my gaze from my dinner and redirect it to Fred. "it kinda looks like he's... staring."

Curiosity killed the cat, I guess. My eyes finally left my plate and were, in fact, met with Fred's brown ones. As soon as they met, though, he looked away, pretending to be focused on his food, just like I had been doing seconds ago.

"Of course he's staring." Hannah Abbot, who sat right in front of my friend, commented with her mouth full. "Have you seen your hair?" She swallowed her food, looking me up and down before adding, "No offense, but it's an absolute mess." My eyes opened widely in shock at her bluntness. "You should take care of it, really."

"Has someone ever told you you're an ill-mannered bitch, Hannah?" I heard my friend talking back at the younger girl while I got up and started to make my way out of the Great Hall.

Of course, I didn't see Fred shooting up and attempting to go after me; ultimately he decided to stay in his place, since he saw my friend walking out too.

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

I was very aware of all the pair of eyes that had been laid on me the very moment I entered the greenhouse where we would be doing the Herbology tasks.

When I had met my friends at the Hufflepuff common room that morning, I had received divided opinions about my straight hair. At first I had been very convinced that it looked way better than my curly hair, but seeing my friends' reaction, I wasn't that confident about it anymore.

I didn't have time to undo the spell before class, so I decided to go along with it and see how the day unfolded.

I took a deep breath, my eyes trained on the ground as I made my way to an empty seat; maybe there weren't that many people staring, maybe it was just my anxiety.

I finally gathered the courage and looked up, nervously scanning the glasshouse so I could shake off my fears.

There was only a couple of my peers staring, which would have put me at ease, if one of them wasn't Fred Weasley.

On top of it, of course, he wasn't even trying to be subtle, it was almost as if he wanted me to notice his judging eyes; I could feel his gaze on me for the entire class.

The instant Professor Sprout dismissed us, I shoved everything in my bag and left the greenhouse, thanking a couple of Gryffindors who complimented my hair on my way out.

Again, I didn't notice Fred leaving the class as soon as he could to run after me.

I threw my bag against a tree near the lake shore and, as I fell against it, I heard someone jogging in my direction.

"In a hurry to sit by the lake, Y/l/n?" I followed the tall ginger with my eyes while he circled me and sat down by me. "You alright?"

"I just needed a break from... People." I vaguely explained, focusing on the water instead of on the boy besides me.

"Understandable." He hesitated for a second before adding, "Do you want me to leave?"

"No, it's fine." I surprised myself at how calmed and collected I sounded, as if I wasn't chatting with my crush.

"What happened to your hair?" His genuinely curious inquiry took me aback, and I struggled to find something to answer.

"Why?" My heartbeat picked up, anxiety inundating me once more. "You don't like it?"

"It looks weird." Fred looked at me up and down with a grimace. "You don't... Look like yourself." I was about to enter fight or flight mode, but he seemed to notice, and panic made its way to his face. "But it doesn't matter what I think," he was quick to add, his eyes wide open as if he knew he had said something he should have not. "I mean— I think it shouldn't matter, if you like it, that's great— I mean, you don't need my opinion about that either!"

"Calm down, I understand." I tried to reassure him, before his rambling drove the both of us crazy. "Can I tell you a secret?" He nodded with pursed lips, surely afraid he would fuck up if he spoke again. "I've been very insecure about my hair lately— like, very." I sighed. "My best friend told me not to straighten it, but last night I got a not so nice comment and—"

"So that's why you left?" I nodded, tugging my sleeves. Fred went silent for a moment, and then cleared his throat and scooted closer to me. "I know this won't do much, but I really love your hair. Kinda reminds me of fireworks and streamers." He gestured around his own head, mimicking the fireworks' movement. "Dunno I think is fun and pretty awesome." I raised my brows at him in surprise. "Like you."

"Aw, that's very sweet." He offered me a sheepish smile as I felt my cheeks blushing. "It does a lot, actually." I confessed, fidgeting with my rings. "I guess I kinda needed to hear something positive about my hair."

"Well, whenever you need to hear something positive about your hair," he pointed at himself. "I'm your man." He winked at me and I let out a chuckle. "I can also tell you positive things about you in general, but that has a price."

"And what is it?"

"You'll have to let me buy you a drink at The Three Broomsticks this Saturday." I tried not to let panic slip through my recently eased demeanor; was he asking me on a date? "And give me a kiss after." He wiggled his brows at me and my face turned red. "the kiss is negotiable."

I casted my gaze down, fixing it on my shoes, not sure of what I was supposed to say at that. His foot tapping mine snapped me out of my thoughts.

"So?" My eyes traveled to him once more, only to find his studying me already. "What do you say, Y/l/n?"

"Well," I shrugged, trying in vain to play nonchalant. "Seems like an affordable price, so it's fine by me."

"I'll pick you up after lunch, yeah?" Before I could agree, he gasped, his eyes going wide. "I'm a genius."

"Come again?" I frowned, confused as his sudden frantic behavior.

"Don't mind me, love." He jumped up and jogged towards the castle, leaving me puzzled in there. I was about to grab a book from my bag when Fred rushed back, crouched down and pecked my cheek. "Your hair's amazing." He assured me. "See you!" My fingertips graced my now flushed cheek as he headed off.

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

I was finishing my lunch when two towering redheads entered the Hall running; while George, slowed down, Fred made a beeline to the Hufflepuff table, his casual clothes already on.

"Ready?" He asked breathless.

"Yeah— you didn't have lunch, did you?" I pointed out, getting up to stand in front of him.

"No, but I'll eat something later—" his eyes roamed over my carefully picked outfit before stating, "You look... very pretty."

"Why, thank you." I offered him a smile and looked over my shoulder at the Gryffindor table, where his friends were very attentive to all we did. "You sure you don't wanna eat something?"

"Hundred percent." He tilted his head towards the gates. "shall we?" He prompted to walk before him, and it was then that I realized he had his hands behind his back. Once we were out in the yard, he tugged my hand and made me turn to him. "I made something for you."

"You didn't have to." Was the first thing that came to my mind when I heard his words. Then the wording dawned on me; he didn't get me something, he made me something. "What is it?"

"So, you know that I told you your hair reminded me of fireworks and streamers?" I nodded, not quite knowing where he was going with that. "Well—" he then showed me what his back was hiding; a delicate, tiny firecracker with my name written on the side. "George helped me so I could finish it on time."

"I'm—" at my loss of words, I could only let out a happy laugh. "This is so cute— am I supposed to ignite it?"

"Duh!" I gently pushed his shoulder in response to his teasing. "Do you know how to do it?"

"I've seen you do it plenty of times." I admitted, grabbing the firecracker with one hand and my wand with the other; it looked so pretty, it was a pity I'd have to ruin it.

With a brief firemaking spell, the firecracker set off. Fred pulled me back slightly before it happened, though.

I was in awe at the beautiful fireworks before us, which looked like a color-changing, expanding version of my hair.

When the colors died out, I turned to Fred, whose attention was already on me, awaiting for a reaction. Surely, he was not expecting the kiss he got, but he didn't complain either; while my hands rested on his chest, his traveled to cup my cheeks before I could pull away.

"So you liked it?" He questioned quietly against my lips.

"I loved it." I whispered back with a wide smile. "You're a sweetheart." I pecked his lips before retreating. Holding his hand in mines, I made my way back into the castle. "We're not leaving until you have lunch."

"You are a sweetheart." He responded, following my lead without offering resistance. "By the way, your hair looks gorgeous." The corners of my lips twisted into a bigger smile at the sweet words he spoke only for me to hear as we went back into the Great Hall.

Maybe my hair wasn't that bad after all.

[mellointheory]

la lune, within our bones

He should probably be thinking about the kiss, but there’s pulsing lights and deep, determined bass and the buzz in his head from alcohol. The woman was sitting next to him at one point, but now one of her legs is hooked over his lap and her hands are in his hair and her lips are on his. He’s kissing her back, because on some level it’s what he wants to do, but most of his mind is occupied by watching the slow transition of the throbbing lights from blue to purple to red. There’s the wet-velvet sensation of another tongue in his mouth and the taste of peach from a drink he’s never tried, He’s not sure if he forgot her name already or if she never introduced herself in the first place.

“Oi, Punz!” Someone shouts. The woman pulls back, glancing over her shoulder at where Red stands with his boyfriend slumped in his arms.

“Stop trying to get your cock sucked and keep an eye on Ant for me while I go find Gumi.” Red orders, dumping Antfrost on the couch next to Punz.

“Sorry about this,” Punz says to the woman, compelled to apologize as he eases her off of him. She smiles, a little regretfully he thinks, and slides off the couch.

“Hi, Punzo.” Ant slurs, his cheek squished up against Punz’s shoulder. He’s absolutely wasted, eyes dilated from a combination of alcohol and lack of light to the point where his pupils have widened to take up most of his irises. His ears are perked upright, twitching and swivelling at the slightest noise.

“Hi, Ant.” Punz whispers back, because he knows the hybrid’s ears are sharp enough to hear him even if he keeps his voice down. “You ready to head home?”

Ant nods. His shock of pink hair looks purple in the blue lights, and Punz is compelled to reach over with the arm Ant isn’t pinning down and pat him on the head. Ant blinks, eyes drifting closed, and a stuttering purr starts up in his chest. If Punz had been irritated in the first place by getting interrupted, it would have taken no more than this to mollify him.

“Where did Red go?” Ant asks, lifting his head slightly.

“Getting Gumi.” Punz runs a hand through his hair, trying to get it to look less messy. He’s nowhere near as drunk as Ant is, but most definitely not sober enough to drive. Thank god Red’s less-than-legitimate profession as an enhancement maker gives him a better alcohol tolerance than the other three of them.

Red slides through the crowd again, this time hauling Gumi with him. She wavers a little when he lets go, but manages to stay upright.

“I’m gonna go get the car,” Red turns with a two-fingered salute and ducks through the throng of dancing, swaying people. Punz meets Gumi’s eyes as she waves, her mask removed for once and clutched loosely in one hand. She walks, very carefully, over to him and folds her arms.

“What’s up, bastards?”

“Hi, Gumi.” Ant lifts his head off Punz’s shoulder and raises his hand. Gumi lurches forward and high-fives him with more enthusiasm than her balance can handle. She stumbles and Punz rises to his feet and grabs her by the elbows, keeping her from falling.

“Can either of you walk?” He asks, turning to look at Antfrost still settled into the couch.

“Shut up, Punztholemew, I can walk better than you can!” Gumi declares. Punz already knows she’s lying. He takes a deep breath and turns around, hauling her up onto his back. She used to weigh less than she does now; but the metal reinforcements in her arms and legs add to it. Her chin rests on his shoulder and she folds her arms around his neck.

Moving slower, careful to keep from overbalancing the cyborg on his back, Punz reaches over to Ant and heaves him upright. If Foolish had agreed to come to the club tonight he would have someone to help him drag these two to Red’s car, but as it is he has to maneuver his way through the crowd and down the street without any help. He can sling Ant’s arm over his shoulders to help the hybrid walk, but Gumi’s too short for her to reach. He used to tease her for getting so many augmentations, yet not changing her height at all.

Red’s car is idling in the street when Punz has finally managed to shoulder his way through the crowd and get outside. The enhancement dealer reaches over and opens up the passenger side door, holding a hand out to his boyfriend. His pale green eyes catch the light from the club’s sign, turning reflective like a stray dog’s at night. Red is full human, much like Punz, but the amount of time he spends with whatever ingredients he puts in his concoctions...it changes him, subtly.

Punz slides Ant’s arm off his neck and helps the hybrid into the car.

“I miss my dawg.” Gumi mumbles into the back of Punz’s neck as he opens the car’s side door and eases her off his back into the middle row of seats. He slides in next to her and closes the car door.

“I miss Floof.” Ant says sadly from the front seat as Red steps on the gas.

“She’s literally at our house.” Red tells him patiently.

Gumi leans over and bumps her head against Punz’s shoulder. Her purple eyes are dark violet at the moment, lit only by the sporadic brightness of street lamps they pass. She’s not using them to read communications or analyze weak points or capture images, so their glow is dormant. It reminds him of back before she got her enhancements, when her eyes were always this dark and her bones weren’t reinforced with steel.

“Kazu’s at your apartment with your roommate, right?” Punz asks her, because he’d like to reassure her but he legitimately has no idea where her dog is. It’s not something he often concerns himself with.

“Yeah, but I miss him.” Gumi sighs, making grabby hands at Ant in the front seat. He flicks his tail back, above the center console, and she immediately wraps her hands around the soft fur. She always gets like this when she’s drunk; wanting to go pet whatever animal is in the vicinity. Antfrost is usually willing to stand in as a replacement when there are none.

The car falls into a comfortable silence. Punz stares out the window, watching the play of street lamps on the ground, how the light they cast dims almost to darkness until, just in time, another lamp is stationed to brighten the road again. Ant is purring in the front seat, the noise barely distinguishable over the rumble of the car’s engine. Gumi hums quietly to herself as she rubs the fur of his tail between her fingers. Every once in a while the humming becomes soft, mumbled singing that Ant joins in on before they both fade to silence again.

Sometimes Punz thinks about the irony of him and Red, both full unmodified humans, dragging a sloppy drunk cyborg and cat hybrid home from a club. Street noise down below, Gumi’s weight on his back as he stands outside the apartment door. Red fumbles with the keys, one arm wrapped securely around Ant’s waist as he tries to unlock the door. The hybrid is almost asleep on his feet, and as soon as Red gets the door open he uses his free hand to pick his boyfriend up and heads straight to their bedroom.

“I claim the burrito blanket!” Gumi whispers into Punz’s ear as he kicks the door closed behind them and carries her to the living room. He’s not actually certain if he’s ever been in this house sober, but both of them have slept on these couches enough that they know where everything is. He lowers Gumi to the loveseat and she immediately snatches the fuzzy burrito print blanket that’s draped over the top of it.

It’s easier for him to think without the overwhelming sound and lights, but his head is still foggy as he goes to the kitchen, squinting against the light that shines from the fridge when he opens it. He pulls out a bottle of water for Gumi, then one for himself, and leans against the door to close it.

“Punztholemew!” Gumi calls from the living room, head poking out over the top of the couch. She’s wrapped herself in the blanket, black jacket discarded on the carpeted floor. He looks over, then sighs and starts back to the living room.

“I love you!” She says, poking a finger into the side of his cheek.

He hands her a bottle of water. “Drink water, Gumi.”

“Say it back, bastard.” She frowns at him.

“I love you too, Gumi.” Punz says gently as he sinks into the recliner. She smiles and snuggles down against the arm of the couch, uncapping her bottle.

He lets his mind drift down into the haze of alcohol and exhaustion, staring at the blue light from the back of the tv. It’s the only light in the room and it illuminates the pair of couches, shag carpet, and Gumi’s curled-up form in soft milky light.

“Punztholemew,” she whispers, her face shadowed by the blanket wrapped all around her.

“Yes, Gumi?” Punz’s voice is gravelly in his tiredness.

“Where did my mask go?” She frowns.

Punz pats the front pocket of his hoodie and finds the curved dark mental there. He pulls it out and puts it on the coffee table. Gumi always wore the mask, even back when she was full human like Punz. He couldn’t have forgiven himself if he let her forget it at the club. “Here.”

“Oh, good.” Gumi yawns. “I miss my dawg.”

“You said that already.” Punz tells her. They keep their voices low, partially out of worry of waking up Ant and Red and partially because the dark room and the faint street noise and the blue, steady light of the television demand it from them somehow.

“Gumi…” Punz puts the hood of his jacket up and pulls on the strings, engulfing his face in white fabric. “Do they still hurt?”

She’s quiet, lifting a hand out of her blanket cocoon and staring at it thoughtfully. Hurting isn’t the word for it, Punz knows. Gumi could afford a technician who knew how to augment someone without fucking them up in the process. Hurting was just the way Gumi described it to Punz years ago, when they got drunk a few months after her surgery and she passed out on his couch crying about it. It wasn’t pain, she’d said, it was feeling like there was something missing about her, like the metal woven into her system made her less human. They didn’t talk about it often, only on nights like this when secrets whispered may not even be remembered when morning came.

“It still feels weird sometimes.” Gumi closed her fist, then tucked her hand back under the blanket. She lowered her cheek to the arm of the couch, the side of her face squishing up. “But nights like this are good. We all get to ignore them.”

Punz wasn’t known for his eloquence or anything, nor his ability to verbally comfort his friends. He wasn’t good at that kinda thing, nor did he fully understand what it was like for Gumi to have all of the little modifications that made her slightly more than human. All he could do was treat her the same as he’d always done: help carry her home even with the new solidity of the metal in her bones, let her lose her balance in her alcoholic haze even though if she wanted she could automatically stabilize herself even unconsciously. Let her have nights where she drank until she forgot, because sometimes it felt wrong to remember everything.

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t done it?” Punz asks. When she first made the decision she’d asked if he was going to do it too, and he’d said no because he couldn’t imagine letting his entire body no longer be wholly his.

“No.” Gumi’s answer comes without any hesitation. “I’m all strong and buff now. And I’m fucking cracked at combat.”

Punz cracks a smile. “You are.”

“I just like not always having to be like this.” One of her hands is absent-mindedly caressing the felt of the couch covers. “Is it annoying sometimes?”

“Is what annoying?”

“Havin’ to do all this funky monkey stuff for me when I’m wasted.” She giggles.

“Ant gets drunk as hell too and no one ever gets bothered by him.” Punz points out.

“It’s different, bastard.” She waves her middle finger at him.

“Damn, okay.” Punz laughs softly. “No, it’s not annoying. You’re just being you.”

“I’m s’posed to be better.” She mumbles, pushing her face into the arm of the couch. Silky black hair, highlighted in blue, blocks her face from his vision.

“You’re not supposed to be anything except our friend, Gumi.” Punz says gently. “And you still are. Always will be.”

“Pinky promise?” Gumi sticks out her hand across the gap between the two couches, hand in a fist except for her smallest finger sticking out. Punz stretches across, leaning a little to reach, and wraps his pinky finger around hers. She knocks their fists together, then lowers her hand.

“Love you, Punztholemew.” Gumi curls back up in her blanket burrito.

This time he says it back before she can remind him to.

[dreaminpetals]

hope this isn't too specific but if possible can you do ronald of ness norton sfw/nsfw hcs? ♥︎

🎩 ronald of ness ー sfw & nsfw hcs

SFW ;;

♡ going off the atropos ropes event, ronald of ness has the personality of a commoner but lives his life disguised as a snobby noble. he hates how high and mighty nobles act and only makes pleasantries with those fools for the money and connections.

♡ from the way he holds his teacups to his posh vocabulary, everyone would assume he was a noble born and bred. yet when ronald is alone he's like a mole who lives in the dirt. all about vulgar speech and being unkempt; feral.

♡ he values wealth and status above all, likely because he grew up poor. so he's going to want to spend his life with someone from a good family that has their pockets lined with gold.

♡ his ideal s/o is a noble who doesn't act like a noble, so he has little to no experience in romance. nobody meets his extraordinary standards for a lover. he isn't one for flings and flirty interactions with strangers, he wants to settle down with someone who accepts him for who he is and can give him a comfortable life. he views his inner circle as shallow snobs who aren't worth his time so i doubt he'd be interested in dating someone from there.

♡ he's a hopeless romantic until he meets you.

♡ his first time meeting you was during one of his performances and you nearly stole the breath from his lungs as he belted out his lines.

♡ he's all about appearances. spotting you in the front row lead to him falling for you on the spot. your shimmering jewellery combined with your formal attire and extravagant hair had this man imagining a married life with you before you spoke your first words together.

♡ as if your looks weren't enough, he saw you guide a lost child back to their parents and didn't let them pay you when you returned their kid. you didn't care about the money, just the safety of others. he likes a selfless person to compliment how greedy he can be sometimes.

♡ ronald is a smooth talker. once the curtains fall he'll kiss your hand as you're gathering your bags and invite you backstage, eager to show you all the trophies that line the shelves of his dressing room. if you listen to him boast about his accomplishments then he'll never let you go.

♡ he finds you as radiant as the sun, you're a noble who's bent on supporting others financially but doesn't brag about it. it's just second nature to you. you handed him a tip worth a couple thousand dollars because of how enjoyable his performance was, which he used to reserve an elegant dinner date for you two.

♡ he feels so stiff around you at first because he fell in love with you before getting to know you. on your first date however, he learns about how you grew up poor just like him and sees you're more similar than he initially thought.

♡ although you know table manners, the way you eat in front of ronald is the same way you'd eat while having dinner at home. every laidback ministration of yours goes straight to his ice cold heart, the glaciers melting as he falls for you harder and harder.

♡ as a boyfriend, ronald of ness is... extreme. he burns thousands of dollars on you everyday. he never simmers down about how you're his entire world, he kisses you with vigor every time you enter or exit a room he's in. he's an arrogant romantic who's constantly spoiling you.

♡ he'll buy you the entire galaxy if you ask. lavish jewellery, a swim with dolphins, a yacht, backstage tickets to all of his shows. anything you wish for, he's delivering it wrapped in gold ribbons.

♡ the house you live together in? that's a castle.

♡ the bed he bought you was made for affectionate nights. his idea of a perfect cuddling session is you reading separate books snuggled up to one another. dozens of pillows and warm blankets keep you company when ronald is away, his scent still lingering on the fabric.

♡ ronald is a storyteller, so he'd love to read to you as you snuggle. he can do super convincing accents that always draw out giggles from you.

♡ he can be a bit hotheaded and jump to conclusions. if you aren't thrilled about a gift he buys you, he might take it personally and it'll wound his pride. if you're unhappy with one aspect of him the walls come tumbling down and he thinks you won't love him anymore.

♡ words of reaffirmation are how you can most effectively communicate your love to him. praise him and be there for him when he has episodes of extreme rage or sorrow.

♡ act casual with him. he'll know you love him if you plop your feet up on a nearby table or burp or something. hearing you make risqué jokes or swear when you stub your toe grounds him in reality.

♡ he doesn't like enclosed spaces or indoor areas much (ronald was never a miner so there's no accident, but norton's claustrophobia does carry over to all his skins.. a universal constant) so his favourite dates are exotic beaches or sprawling fields of flowers. he'll take you to a five star resort and give a toast to your eternal love as you clink your glasses together.

NSFW ;;

♡ this man is the most reckless spender to ever exist, so he's probably blown thousands on love hotel rooms, toys, and lingerie for both of you.

♡ he wants to be praised. no, needs to be praised. as an actor, ronald of ness' ego is maintained by critics worshipping him and his fans obsessing over his every move. when he isn't being showered in compliments his insecurities kick in and he starts to feel washed up, so he's developed quite the praise kink.

♡ tell him he's the sexiest man you've ever laid eyes on, that he makes you horny, and that nobody can fuck you like he can. every word you sing goes straight to his dick, especially since he knows you're being sincere and aren't acting.

♡ if you tell him that you've masturbated to one his performances before, his cock would ache from how badly he needed you. the idea of his love watching him perform and needing to touch themselves to his work drives him absolutely mad with lust. it doesn't just turn him on, it makes him feel a bit soft that you enjoy his acting and watch it in your free time too.

♡ he'll take you backstage in his dressing room every time you watch him perform. after a successful performance, there's no better way to reward him than deepthroating him in front of his vanity.

♡ huge voyeurism kink!!! let him jerk off for you. please. he does such a good job of exaggerating his moans and bucking his dripping cock into his hand, his hips shaking below him as he strokes himself. when he feels your eyes burning into his skin he couldn't stifle his whimpers even if he wanted to.

♡ loves being the center of attention. when he gives you oral, he demands for you to look at him as his nails dig into your thighs and his tongue licks you to euphoria. say his name if you want to feel him gasp with you in his mouth, he loves hearing his name drip from your lips like honey.

♡ he has a heavy oral fixation in general. when you're sucking his dick it feels like the spotlight is on him and he eats it up, not even trying to muffle his moans and grunts. the most vocal partner you could ask for, he can't help but hang his head back and let loose as you work your magic on him.

♡ swears like a sailor. the string of curses that you pull from ronald in his husky voice never fail to send you into a daze. if only the cameramen and supporting actors could see just how vulgar ronald is when he comes undone! they would chalk it up to a stunt double. "fuck, you take me so fucking well," being hissed into his lover's ear is the last thing they'd expect to hear from him.

♡ such a heavy breather. the way his chest rises and falls erratically with every pant makes waves of electricity pool in your lower stomach. when he tries to hiss out your name but can't catch his breath because he's so overwhelmed... goosebumps.

♡ ronald can afford to make a mess. literally. he's willing to break furniture as he rams into you, it's happened before. he can be very, uh, passionate.

♡ expect lots of roleplaying scenarios from him. ronald has starred in plenty of romantic productions, and he'd be lying if he wasn't turned on by some of the scenes he's filmed. two detectives getting dirty on a desk? you've done that. two soulmates reuniting on the train and not being able to wait to make love? yep, that too. he wants to share his wildest fantasies with you, and is open to trying anything you want.

♡ comment on how you like certain outfits or professions and when you come home after a long day you'll receive a surprise. ronald will be dressed in a uniform you fawned over, acting perfectly in character and ready to please you for the rest of the night.

♡ he'll take on any role you like, whether it's a bottom or a top. just ask. ronald leans towards a top but if you want to penetrate him or take the reins, he's excited to sit back and let you claim him.

♡ loves sex the morning after too. when you wake up with a bedhead and your skin is covered with nothing but blankets. he'd love to have a super tender session in the morning when you're both at your most vulnerable. the smiles he leaves on your skin whenever you yawn or stretch are contagious.

♡ ronald can thrive with elaborate, planned sex or just you two kissing in bed and things escalating from there. he loves the tenderness, and he loves having a muse to reenact his dreams and fantasies with.

[9layerdevilfoodcake]

Some Of A Kind

Chapter 1: Virgin in the Chapel

(Michael Langdon x reader)

Summary: When you accompany your friend to a black mass at the Church of Satan. You pick the wrong time and place to let him in on the fact that you’re a virgin, garnering the attention of the ‘chosen one’ himself.

Warnings: murder, mentions of drug use, poorly represented Satanism

Word count: 3,666 (that’s right)

//

It was a typical Wednesday night when you got a text from your friend Tyler.

‘So what do you say? Is tonight the night?’

He had been bugging you for weeks to come see a sacrifice at the satanic church. And since the first time he asked, the conversation always went the same way.

/

“I’m telling you, just one slice and then you can have whatever you want”

“You mean I can have powers beyond compare?”

“Yes” he answered back, in a hopeful tone. Clearly he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm in your voice.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the excitement in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you do whatever you want over there with your edgelords but I’m perfectly happy in my boring powerless existence”

“First of all we aren’t edgelords, we're satanists. We just see the world for what it is. A dreadful place full of selfish people.”

“Well I can’t say I argue with that”

“Exactly, so give in to being selfish, and start doing what you want. You work so hard, and for what a one bedroom apartment you can barely afford and bags under your eyes that are only getting bigger by the day?”

“Hey” you interrupt, slightly offended. Which only earns a laugh on his end.

“I’m just saying, you put in so much effort for no pay off, when you could do this one thing and have everything you deserve”

“What a cable package and a ‘skip the line’ pass at Disneyland?”

“I also get unlimited snacks!”

“Oh sorry how could I forget, well if one soul is all it takes to get a free waffle cone then what are we still doing here?!” You ask back, your tone full of mockery.

“Have you ever wondered why I can snort as much coke as I want and have never OD’d? Or why every girl I bring home is a certified 10?”

Actually you had, the two of you had met the year prior in a religious studies class when you were partnered to write a paper on whether morality was dependent on a god. He could barely get through a sentence without tripping over his words or looking away in embarrassment. It was sweet really, and by the end of the class you two had basically become best friends.

But about 2 months ago things started to change. There was almost always a girl leaving his house when you would come over.

You swore at least two of them you recognized from Victoria Secret runways.

One night you even saw a man leaving whose resemblance to Ryan Reynolds was suspiciously uncanny.

He got a new car without any explanation as to where he got the money, and he had so much coke in his living room you assumed he started dealing, before he told you it was just his stash for the weekend.

At first he was vague about everything, but eventually he told you the truth, or at least what you assumed was a version of it.

For his final project he wrote a research paper on the church of Satan.

You went with him to a couple of services when he was writing it, him being too nervous to go alone.

You both thought they seemed a little kooky, but relatively harmless.

Yet what you didn’t know was that he kept going back after the class ended and had gotten himself sworn in, and eventually given the honor of participating in a black mass.

Where he had sacrificed a school teacher in order to get these new “gifts”.

Now you weren’t naive enough to think he actually killed someone!

You were sure his new lifestyle was a part of some religious Ponzi scheme, and one day the debt collector would come calling.

You’ve watched enough documentaries to know better than to get involved with this.

But he is still your friend so you take it upon yourself to be supportive and let him have his moment, while simultaneously letting him know you’ll be here for him if the day comes that he gets excommunicated.

“I love you and I am so happy for all you’ve gotten, especially when you share it with me, but I’m good, really. I’ll let you know if I ever change my mind”

That dropped the subject for a while.

 

That is until a few days ago when you lost your job.

Well actually when your job was stolen from underneath you by your boss's son.

All it took was one night of bitching to your best friend for the talks of satanism to start up again.

//

So here you were bored on a Wednesday night actually considering his offer to watch a black mass.

‘Well…’

He texted back after a few minutes of no response on your part

‘Fine’

It’s not like he’s ever going to let up, you might as well go see what all the hubbub was about.

After he picked you up, you made your way to the church.

More precisely the back alley with a hidden door. Not at all unsettling.

And the rain pelting down on the robe he gave you just adds a nice ominese touch to what you're sure is going to be a long night.

Now inside you sit in a pew in the back. While the choir above you sings as the others file in.

They actually sound pretty good if you’re being honest. Maybe on your way out you’ll pick up the album you saw for sale in the lobby (for $6.66 no less).

You haven’t been sitting more than 10 minutes before the mass begins.

And in that time Tyler roughly explained what you were about to see.

You weren’t paying too much attention though. More enamored with the atmosphere.

It was a sea of red cloaks and black pentagrams. And the thunder outside appeared to clap along in sync with the crescendo or the choir.

This place seems vastly different from the shabby collection of misfits you encountered when you visited the first time. Who spent most of the service complaining and handed you a stale donut on your way out the door.

“...Y/n are your listening?!”

“Hmm Yea”

“Really?”

“Yea the guy’s gonna sacrifice some ‘innocent soul’ say a few hail satans and voilà he gets his hair back and starts getting laid again” you answer back, waving him off. You’re more interested in watching two Satanists in the front of the room give each other the “sign of the cross” gesture in reverse order.

“This is serious, the things you see might shock you but you can not react! If they think you’re some sort of threat to our secrets or even just afraid of them, it won’t end well. I’m kind of taking a risk by bringing you here”

That brings your attention back to your friend.

“So you hound me for weeks to come with you, but I’m not even allowed to be here?” You ask back, starting to wonder why you actually said yes to this.

“Well yea, I just really want you to see what I’ve seen, I want what’s best for you”

That was actually really sweet of him.

Now you felt a little bad for making fun of this so much.

That is until you see a man in the next row pull out a flask with “unholy water” written on it and rub it on his chest like Vick’s.

But before you get the chance to ask Tyler where he keeps his flask(which you're certain he has). The choir stops singing and the Priestess has the room's attention.

Everything goes as Tyler explains at first.

The “sacrifices” are brought in in their underwear. (They couldn’t even keep their clothes on, what does the devil give them a level up if the victims are humiliated before they die?) and tonight's chosen one, Phil, is about to take his position, before you hear a voice behind you.

“Wait!”

You turn your head to see an older woman rushing in, but it’s not her that steals your focus it’s who walks in behind her.

He is quite possibly the most attractive person you have ever seen. With cheekbones that could slice butter and soft blonde hair falling around icy blue eyes.

She says his name is Michael and this honor belongs to him.

You look over to Tyler to see what’s going on. He didn’t explain what part of the performance this was, was this some sort of second act surprise?

You were expecting this night to follow like a church service, watching Phil take his vows and minimal audience participation. Now you wonder if this is all rehearsed, or if the Satanist’s are partial to improv?

But Tyler pays you no mind, he can’t take his eyes off the blonde either.

It’s not until the Priestess mentions the “mark of the beast” and that he is the chosen one, that you get why Tyler is looking at him like he’s some sort of god.

Because to him he is, this guy is supposed to be the Antichrist.

Tyler says nothing only glances in your direction when he sees you’re the only one still standing, before he pulls you down to your knee like everyone else.

The rest of the performance is really top notch.

The flickering of the lights was a nice touch, but you can’t help but feel a little uneasy wondering how they keep getting the thunder to time up with everything they do.

Plus the bodies of the sacrifices fell to the ground almost too well.

How did they manage to get their bodies to look that lifeless, and why did those cuts look so deep?

But you try not to focus too much on it as you walk to the ceremonial Wednesday night potluck.

/

After the Antichrist has dismissed his followers from fawning all over him, you sit with Tyler at the end of the table and dig into your lasagna.

“So does the antichrist part happen at every sacrifice or is this one special? Is it some Satanic holiday I wasn’t aware of?” You ask, breaking Tyler out of whatever trance he appears to be stuck in.

“What?”

“I gotta say the dramatics were very entertaining, but if you really wanted to get me here all you had to do was tell me the guy who plays the Antichrist is really hot” you snicker under your breath.

“Play? Y/n your don’t understand he IS the Antichrist” he explains in a hushed voice before continuing

“That doesn’t happen every time, he really has come. This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Don’t you see?! I think it was fate you came here on this night!”

“Ha, why do you need a virgin to sacrifice or something?” You laugh and take another bite before you look over and see Tyler staring at you with wide eyes.

“What?”

“You’re not serious are you?”

“Well yea, what’s the big deal, I didn’t realize you were so caught up on a social construct”

“I’m not, but you can’t say things like that around here” he looks around the room nervously and you follow his path of vision until your eyes land on Michael, who’s own gaze is locked on you.

There’s no way he heard you, you were across the room and you were whispering.

Still he continues to stare with eyes that speak only of intensity. No smile, no nod, no hint emotion whatsoever.

It’s only after you raise your brows and mouth a “What?” That he looks back down at his plate with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Oh Satan, I think he heard you. You should go” Tyler’s tone becoming more erratic by the second.

“What?” You’re sure he's joking, but when he looks at you there is nothing but worry in his eyes.

Now you’re starting to get nervous, this is too far.

He actually thinks these people are going to do something?

He’s practically shaking with fear, and because of the man in the turtleneck? Who barely knows how to hold a spoon?

Okay you’ll play along for tonight, but tomorrow you are having a serious talk, he might need professional help.

“Alright let's go then” you huff out as you start to grab your belongings.

“I can’t just leave, especially since our savior is here, but I’ll make sure everything is good and you’re not followed or anything”

“Okay, is there some sort of satanic shuttle bus that can take me home? Or should I call an Uber? Does this place have an address or should I just send them an inverted cross?”

Still unamused by your inability to grasp the gravity of the situation, he just shakes his head and hands you his keys.

“Here just take my car, I’ll get a ride later, in fact stay at my house incase you’re followed”

He’s basically pushing you out of your seat and nodding to the door.

“Okay...bye I guess”

And with that you take off down the hall.

You know you’re supposed to go straight to the car. You’ve never seen Tyler look so serious in his life.

But when you walk past the chapel you can’t help but stop. You can still see the bodies up at the altar.

Why are they still there? Was there a trap door you missed and these were just doubles?

Or were these people so committed to the role and as crazy as your friend that they had to stay in the character of “dead sacrifice” all night?

Curiosity got the better of you, the car could wait, you had to see for yourself.

Closer inspection did nothing to stifle your suspicions.

It looked so real.

They weren’t breathing, so there was no way they were still the two actors, but you had never seen fake bodies look so real.

You're reminded of an anatomy class you took last semester.

Those cadavers looked suspiciously close to these.

Just colder and with less life left in their faces.

And there was so much blood, the iron was thick in the air.

But that couldn’t be true. Your friend wouldn’t kill someone would he?

He didn’t actually think they would kill you?

If you got a closer look, if you just swiped some of the “blood” with your pointer finger it would surely taste like corn syrup and not like…

“Are you afraid?”

You whip your head around, blood still staining your finger and beginning to drip onto the linoleum. To see Michael walking in the same way he had an hour earlier. Only this time without the cloak, but with some newly added confidence.

“They’re really dead aren’t they?” You know it’s true, but you still wait for his confirmation.

“Yes, that tends to happen when you slice someone’s throat” He acts as if this shouldn’t be a shock to you. It didn’t shock any of the other members of the congregation. Yet you know without him saying it, that he’s well aware you’re not like the others. That you don’t belong here.

“So you really sacrifice people, just to get stuff” you blurt out. Still trying to wrap your head around the fact that everything you witnessed tonight was real. Perhaps you shouldn’t have taken that last crescent roll you’d seen another satanist eyeing at dinner, you definitely have a curse coming your way. That is if you live through the night.

“Well not me” Michael says, pulling you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

“Oh of course, you’re the one they do it for”

“Well my father more specifically”

“Does that upset you?” You know you should be more careful about how you proceed with this conversation, but the words leave your mouth before your mind can stop them.

The question seems to catch him by surprise as he ruffles his brow, you’re not sure if it’s in anger or just shock at your brazenness. But he doesn’t answer. Just goes on to question you.

“Have you ever witnessed a murder before?”

“No”

“How did you feel watching it before your eyes?”

“Well I didn’t feel much, considering I thought it was all fake” That earns you a smile from him.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Curious”

“Really? Not scared?”

“No. Why should I be?” You’re really digging your own grave here. But your mouth seems to have a mind of its own.

“It seems your friend would say otherwise”

“Ah so you did hear.” You say, seeing his smile grow wider. “These aren't the days of the Old Testament, virginity doesn’t equally purity. Just ask sacrifice number one over there, with a body like that I doubt she was a virgin” you laugh, partially at your joke and partially out of sheer uncomfortableness. Michael doesn’t even spare the bodies a glance, eyes latched onto you, you go on to add

“I’m no saint. Despite my sexual history, or lack thereof”

“No, I’m sure you’re not” he emphasizes by swiping some of the liquid from your finger with his own, before taking it into his mouth. Making a show of it by closing his eyes as he releases it from his lips, slow as molasses. Smiling when he opens his eyes and sees you’re practically drooling.

Before his little show can go any further, you continue with your own questions.

“Have you killed people before?”

“Yes”

“How many?”

“You don’t have the time”

He’s looking at you waiting for your response. Waiting for the shock to subside and the shrieks of terror to take over.

Instead you just pause thinking everything over.

You should be scared, you know you should.

In one night you have watched two people die, found out your friend is a murderer, and that the Antichrist is not only NOT a myth, but is standing in front of you, conversing with you like he’s nothing more than your new neighbor.

Yet you search and search in your mind for any hint of fear and come up empty. All you feel is curiosity. You must be losing it too, you feel bad for judging Tyler so harshly. Maybe it’s his youthful face and the little outburst in the dining hall earlier, but Michael seems like more than simply the ‘incarnation of evil’. He seems so...human.

And more than anything he just seems confused and dare you say, lost.

“Do you like killing people? Or do you do it because it’s expected?”

“It depends”

“Would you like to kill me?”

Now it’s his turn to take pause, looking like he’s trying to decide if he’s “in the mood” to take your life.

“Not right now”

You can’t help but laugh at that (yea you’re definitely in shock). Soon enough he joins in too, and the mood feels lighter than it has all night. You might even say you feel comfortable.

That is until the laughter subsides and you meet his eyes. He’s now staring at you with the same intensity you’d met earlier at dinner.

It’s like he’s looking right through you, into your soul. You feel on display and more than anything afraid of what he might find.

“Stop that”

“Stop what?” He says with a playful tone and a tilt of his head.

“You’re..well..I don’t know what you’re doing but I don’t like it. You’re trying to get a read on me or something.”

He just smiles at that, because of course he does.

You know there is no avoiding playing into his hand. He wants to get a rise out of you, in one way or another.

“And what do yo-”

“Y/N!”

At the mention of your name you both turn to see Tyler standing in the doorway.

Antichrist or not, the look Michael gives him is enough to send a wave of fear up your spine.

He appears as though he’s about to snap his neck through just a look(and you're afraid to find out if he could).

Noticing his anger, Tyler stops and bows before Michael, apologizing incessantly for interrupting him.

You don’t miss the twitch of Michael’s lips. He’s clearly loving the effects he has on his followers.

You just roll your eyes at your friend.

“Calm down Tyler, get up”

He just let’s your words pass over him as if you hadn’t even spoken. If he hadn’t been the one to call your name a moment ago, you wouldn’t be sure he even knew you were in the room.

Every sense he had was aimed at Michael, and it was only when his precious dark lord gave him a nod that he got up and looked your way again.

“What are you doing? I thought you were going home?” He says through clenched teeth.

If he weren’t so worried about keeping you alive he would be pissed at you for not listening.

“I was. I am” you reassure him turning to Michael.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Michael, I’ll see myself out”

You are scurrying out of the room, grabbing a frozen Tyler and tugging him along with you, when Michael calls after you.

“No y/n, the pleasure was all mine.”

You’re at the end of the hall, and in the middle of Tyler’s scolding session, when you realize there is still blood on your finger.

It feels like it’s vibrating where Michael touched you, begging you to take notice.

Just wipe it on your jeans, you tell yourself.

Wait until you get to the car and find a napkin.

Do anything rational other than what you're thinking.

As you pass through the exit door, you cave and take a taste of the crimson on your finger.

Although you can’t see him, you know Michael is smiling. You can feel his smugness in the air around you and you're sure he knows what you just did.

This started out just as me wanting to make some jokes about Michael and the Satanists and has somehow turned into a multi-chapter fic. I still don’t really know where it’s going I’m just letting it take on a mind of it’s own. If it looks familiar it’s cuz it’s been on ao3 for a little bit now, so sorry it’s not a “new” new story! If you liked it that makes me very happy, and if not I hope it was at least entertaining! Either way thank you for reading!

(I wasn’t sure who wanted to be tagged just in my Xavier fic and who did in general so I didn’t add a tag list to this one)

[mystic-deep]

“Whipped Cream” - Part 2 | Nanami Kento fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Taking cooking classes seemed like a nice way to relax and sharpen your skills, too bad the teacher hates you.

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: explicit content not suitable for minors, nothing graphic but please be advised, light swearing

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: Here's part 2! Things are starting to move in the right direction. Nothing too explicit though, part 3 will be the first real reason. Hope you enjoy and as always, please forgive any errors and mistakes.

♡ ♡ ♡ previous parts: Part 1

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 3.4k

The second the doors of the elevator opened you dashed out, your eyes glancing nervously at your hand watch. Your weekly meeting had lasted longer than expected and now you were running late for your cooking class. You couldn’t wait to add another reason for that jerk to pick on you.

As you hurried through the lobby, the receptionist that you met on Monday noticed you and offered a sympathetic smile.

“Good afternoon! Nanami-sensei forgot some documents so he went back to fetch them from his car, you should hurry up before he returns.”

“Thank you!” You grinned at her and quickened your pace towards your classroom. It was good to know that not every staff member here was a devil in disguise.

You practically barged inside the room and for a second everyone looked at you with hopeful eyes, only to shift into disappointment when they realized it wasn’t Nanami. Or was it perhaps the fact that they all hoped you’d quit and they wouldn’t be forced to deal with you anymore.

Ignore them, this time around you wouldn’t lose your temper and become another subject for them to gossip about when the class was over.

With that thought in mind, and hopeless positivity, you scanned the room and realized that your previous working space had been occupied already. The only free space was at the very front row, near Nanami’s desk. Strange, you were sure that was probably the most sought out station, seeing how close you’d be to the chef.

You pushed your worries to the side and took out your apron from the bag before putting it on. Only a few seconds later the door opened again and Nanami stepped inside.

“Good afternoon and sorry for being late.” He offered a small apologetic smile and deep inside you thought that he was actually really pleasant to look at when he wasn’t criticizing your existence.

The smile vanished quickly when his eyes landed on you and you kicked yourself for finding him attractive just a few second earlier.

“Miss Y/n, as you probably noticed, I’ve moved your seat in front of my desk. After the events from last time, I need to supervise you attentively.”

You fought back the urge to argue, knowing full well that this is what he was looking for. Obviously today was a test of patience, to see how much he could push your buttons until you’d explode.

“Oh I don’t mind, Nanami-san.”

“I would like you to address me as Nanami-sensei or chef Nanami during classes.”

“Of course, Nanami-san.”

He shot you and angry look but you beamed at him innocently. You had told your friend that it would me a miracle if he didn’t kill by the end of the week but now your execution seemed right around the corner.

“Let’s start today’s lesson.” Everyone took out their phones and placed them on their working station.

“Today we’ll be making Paris Brest, it’s a very popular French desert. I’ve sent you the list of ingredients and instructions on the group chat, make sure you read them carefully and if there’s something you don’t understand you have 20 minutes to ask your questions. After that we’ll get started.”

Everyone gave a short nod in reply, well everyone except you. Your hand rose up causing Nanami to arch his brow in annoyance. “Yes, what is it.”

“I’m sorry but I’m not part of the group chat so I don’t have the list of ingredients or instructions.”

“That is, unfortunately for you, not my fault. Yamamoto-san is the admin, it was her idea to stop the waste of paper that we usually printed on in favour of sending everything via chat. You’ll have to talk to her.”

He made a short hand gesture towards one of the older women and you realized with distress that it was the old hag that questioned you during the previous lesson. She didn’t even bother to look up from her phone, like you didn’t even exist.

Fine, no point in begging to be added to some group you didn’t even want to be part of. You were sure you could find some recipes on youtube or something.

As the 20 minutes passed and Nanami began to take questions, your hand went up again but this time he ignored you. You frowned and went back to study the recipe you found. You were going to make this work, you were going to nail this desert and bask in the glory of your achievement.

About an hour and a half later all deserts had been finished and they were now presented to the chef for inspection. Nanami had moved from station to station giving advices to everyone and correcting mistakes here and there. He of course never spared you a glance and you had to admit it was starting to hurt. You didn’t know you craved so much for his approval or was it maybe the fact that it pissed you off to be pushed aside in such a way. At the end of the day you were paying for this course, it seemed unfair to be treated in such a manner.

“Right, let’s see what we have here.” He studied your Paris Brest, probably looking for any mistakes that he could judge. “A bit underdone, the bottom is somewhat soggy.” You bit your tongue and looked at him as he cut a small piece from the desert but didn’t taste it like he did with the rest. “I’ve asked for crème praline but instead you filled it with crème patissiere. Are you perhaps unable to follow instructions?”

“I didn’t have the list of ingredients and I didn’t have your instructions so I had to search for the recipe myself.”

“And I told you to ask Yamamoto-san to add you-”

“No, you said to talk to her as though this wasn’t your responsibility at all! Meanwhile you didn’t bother once to stop by my station and correct me even though you saw I was making custard crème.” Your cheeks turned red from frustration and you clutched your hands in small fists.

“If you don’t plan on teaching me anything then at least have the decency to say so! If I wanted to learn recipes from youtube I would have stayed in the comfort of my home without having to pay a dime for this joke of a class.” So much for keeping a cool head and not letting him get to you.

Nanami was a tall man, you noticed the second he first set foot in the classroom and back in the parking lot when you dropped your key. Yet you didn’t realize just how tall he was, at least compared you, until he was looming over you. His blue eyes had turned icy and his lips had tightened in a small, sharp line, a sign that he was barely keeping his anger in check.

“You will stay after class.” Despite not raising his voice even an octave, he said it in such a strong manner, like a divine command. When your mouth opened he sent you the most chilling glare. “You.will.stay.” With that he returned to his desk and you were left to boil in your frustration.

Class ended in what seemed to be mere seconds and everyone hurried out after saying their good byes, probably not wanting to delay you imminent death.

“Now, let’s talk in my office.” He gestured towards a door just a few feet away from his desk and you followed him as he opened it and stepped inside.

His office was quite impressive and you wondered just how much this school was making for him to afford such luxury. The room had large windows with a nice view of the office buildings in the distance, a solid wooden desk with a black leather chair as well as a couch with a modern looking coffee table. On the walls you could see several certificates and degrees that were framed, probably from all the cooking classes he had taken.

“Please take a seat.” He sat in the leather chair and you sat in from of him, legs crossed and eyes narrowed. Whatever the hell he wanted to discuss it had better be quick, you just wanted to go home and take a hot bath and forget about this miserable day.

“It seems that you are not adjusting well to this course so I will speak to management in order to return your money. No point to continue this if you don’t want to be here.”

“Oh no, you will not make this look like it’s my fault.” You sat up so quickly you thought you sat down on a spring. “You have treated me horrible since the very beginning and now you’re angry that I don’t sit quietly and take your abuse.”

“If you think that not praising you for the disastrous bake you did on Monday, a bake that I might add you half assed the whole time and then proceeded to blame everything except yourself, was too harsh for your sensitive self then it just further proves how unsuited you are for my class.” He sat up as well, his expression mirroring your own. “The class is a joke, the students are a joke, I am a joke. It’s all a big joke to you, the successful business woman who has no time to waste on such a silly course.”

You felt waves of anger washing over you but deep down inside what you felt more was sadness. Sure he was part right about what he said, you did look down on your classmates and you did insult him back then in the parking lot. Still, it wasn’t that you thought so highly of yourself, it was the opposite actually. Your self-doubt sky rocketed when he pointed all the flaws of your cookies and you couldn’t stand the way those women had chuckled gleefully in the background. Of course, you’d rather eat your fist than to admit to all of that.

“I don’t think this class is a joke and I have nothing against my classmates, it’s just that some of them don’t want me here. As for yourself, you’ve treating me differently than the rest of the class so the problem here is you not me.” You crossed your arms and looked at him in a defiant way. “Rather than returning my money, I want to be moved to a different course where someone else will properly teach me.”

He couldn’t have looked more shocked or upset if you had punched him in the face. This must had been for him the ultimate insult, for you to suggest that his teaching was bad and that someone else could do a better job. Truthfully, you weren’t questioning his skill as a teacher, just that you two obviously couldn’t get along. You weren’t sure that the point came across though.

“You insolent little-” He stopped himself and took a deep breath, clearly fighting the urge to strangle you. “You are absolutely impossible to deal with.”

“No, it’s you who just doesn’t know how to deal with me and I have had enough. There is nothing you can teach me.” With that you grabbed your bag in which you had previously stuffed your apron and hurried towards the door. As your hand reached for the knob, you felt his presence behind you and his left hand slammed against the door while his right quickly turned the key to lock it.

You turned to glare at him but as your eyes met his, your words got stuck in your throat. He looked at you with such intensity that it made your body temperature rise.

“I could teach you a lot of things if only you’d learn to keep that little mouth of yours shut.” The way he said things made you think he wasn’t necessarily referring to cooking.

His right hand suddenly reached for the back of your head and he pushed you forward, taking your lips in a hungry kiss. At first you didn’t move, you were too shocked to fully process what was happening. As his tongue slowly began to push against your lips you parted them and gave him full access to your mouth. Your hands reached for his broad shoulders and you instinctively stood on your toes in order to kiss him back.

The kiss only lasted for a few seconds but it felt like a life time when you finally parted. The anger from his eyes had been replaced with what seemed like hunger and he licked his lips making your knees to tremble.

“You could actually pass as cute when you’re not trying to push all my buttons.”

His words were like a wakeup call and your eyes widened at what had just transpired inside his office. He kissed you, but more importantly, you kissed him back! Not only that but you did it with such desire that no amount of denial would get you out of this one.

“Why-Why did you-”

“Because I wanted to.” Just like that, because he wanted to. He trapped you in his office and kissed you just because he wanted to.

He grabbed your wrist, quite gently to your surprise, and began to pull you away from the door.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to fuck you silly on the desk, what else.” Your eyes practically popped out of their sockets and you froze in place.

“I’m joking, obviously.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Your fist aimed for his shoulder but he dodged the punch without a problem. He then sat down on the couch and pulled your body so that you would seat next to him.

“Now then, let’s discuss a few rules if this is to continue.” What exactly was he talking about? What did he think was going to continue?

“Whatever happens in this room stays in this room. Once we’re out the door we’re back to teacher-student relationship and nothing more. You’ll give me your phone number so I can send you further recipes and set up meetings but we’ll never discuss anything that goes on here via messages or calls.”

“And what’s going to happen here?” You asked feelings a mixture or excitement and curiosity wash over you.

“That depends a lot on you.” He gave a little shrug as his hand landed on your thigh and began to smoothly move upward. “Depends on how obedient you are, show me that you want to learn.” You almost found it impossible to breath as his hand began to massage your flesh through the fabric of your pants. Why, why in the world didn’t you wear a skirt today?

“First, I think it’s fair to ask if I should be worried about you seeing someone. I don’t want to ruin a relationship or marriage.”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” After your promotion from last year it had been nearly impossible with your work schedule to form any kind of meaningful relationship and truth be told it was starting to show. God knows how much time had passed since you shared such a deep kiss and you wanted more of that. Even though there was a part of you that worried about what you were getting yourself into, you absolutely needed to feel that light headed again. Also, you knew that what he had offered was just a taste, just a fraction of what he could do to you.

“What about you? Is this something that you do often?” His hand on your thigh tightened and you let out a little whimper.

“I know you have the tendency to always believe the worse of me, but no, I’ve never done this with anyone. All the more reasons to set up clear rules. Obviously I’m also not in a relationship.”

You didn’t question him- he indeed didn’t seem the type to just sleep around with his students. If anything those women from your class would give and arm and a leg just to be here, in his office, sitting on the couch with his hand on their thigh. Yet for some reason, he chose you. The annoying, opinionated one that always rubbed him the wrong. Or maybe, you were actually rubbing the right way.

“I came to the conclusion that the only way for you to behave during my class is if we can take care of some of that pent up frustration you have.” You cheeks coloured red and you hated to admit it but he was right.

“What about you?” Your fingers began to travel provocatively to the growing bulge in his pants but he grabbed you by the wrist before you had the chance to reach your destination. You whined a little but he just chuckled and kissed the inside of your palm.

“Obviously, I’m not immune or I wouldn’t be here, offering to give you extra lessons.” He let go of your hand, his expression turning seriously.

“Before we continue, I need you to agree that you will behave accordingly.” You nodded in agreement, a bit too quick for your liking.

“I want to make it clear that we’ll not be dating. The second your course ends, so will this arrangement. We won’t meet anywhere else except here and once that door is locked you will be obedient. I won’t do anything that you’re uncomfortable with, but I want you to be opened to try new things, do you think you can do that?”

You nodded again finding it almost impossible so seat still. You were both nervous and excited for this little arrangement and you couldn’t wait to get started.

“Good, one last thing that we need to set straight.” He grabbed your waist and manoeuvred your body until you were sitting in his lap, his hand gripping your chin so he could look straight in your eyes.

“Inside this room you’ll address me as sensei or sir, none of that Nanami-san bullshit you pulled earlier. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes...sir.”

“Good girl.” He offered you a low chuckle and a light smack on your ass. You were absolutely desperate for more of his touch and seeing the need in your eyes, he pulled you in for another deep kiss.

As his tongue explored your mouth, your hips moved against his and his hands gripped your waist in order to stop the friction. He pulled away and looked at you in a threatening way.

“Don’t be greedy, your lessons haven’t started yet.” You wanted to protest but you were also afraid that he would end this before it even had the chance to start.

His slowly unbuttoned the first two buttons of your shirt and let his mouth fall on the swelling of your breast. He licked the flesh and nibbled, making your head fall back in pleasure.

“N-Nanami-sensei.” You mewled his name and he smiled against your breast. After a few more seconds he pulled away, admiring his work. The first mark he had left on your body and the promise of many more.

“Up you go.” He gave you another light smack on your bottom and with trembling legs you moved away from his lap.

“The next meeting will be and Saturday, to make up for the time you wasted today.” You frowned slightly, wondering how you’ll be able to resists until the weekend.

“Don’t make that face, I promise to give you and extra reward if you do well during Friday’s lesson.”

Your expression turned into an excited one and he laughed whole heartedly. “You’re so easy to read.”

With that, your little discussion had come to an end. He unlocked the door of his office and you stepped outside, practically waltzing through the classroom, down the hallway and through the lobby. The nice receptionist asked you something but you couldn’t register anything that she was saying so you just smiled like an idiot and waved her goodbye.

As the elevator door closed, a part of you began to worry about what you were getting yourself into. You weren’t a reckless person and you knew what scandal this could cause if you were caught. Still, it was even more dangerous for Nanami who could risk getting fired, so you had to trust that he knew what he was doing. All worries aside, on Saturday you were going to wear a damn skirt.

[babypandawrites]

Allies, Pt. 9

The Northern Air Temple 

Pairing: Sokka x F Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 3,813 Summary: You thought that the chance of there being Airbenders other than Aang was too good to be true, sadly you were right. 

Note: How I completely forgot about this until now I'm not sure but! Another piece of this series I’ve done for the fun of it is outfit designs- If that kind of things in fics isn’t your cup of tea then feel free to act like these don't exist! But for those who are interested or who might just wanna see; here you go.  This is just what I personally envisioned while writing, again feel free to ignore it if you want, but I figured I might as well share :)  I was also going to wait until tomorrow to post this bc Wednesdays is my upload day for it on Ao3 but I’m also a chapter ahead there and wanted to get my tumblr uploads caught up- so back to back post today and tomorrow :) Yay 

-Navigation- | -Atla Masterlist-  -Last Part- | -Allies Masterlist- | -Next Part- 

Taglist: @boomeraangin​ | @brokennerdalert​​​

“So, travelers, the next time you think you hear a strange large bird talking, take a closer look, it might not be a giant parrot, but a flying man! A member of a secret group of air walkers who laugh at gravity and laugh at those bound to the earth by it!”  Aang smiled. “Aren’t airbender stories the best?” “Was it realistic? Was that how it was back then?” Katara questioned.  “I laugh at gravity all the time. Haha! Gravity.”  A pair of hands holding a hat suddenly appeared in the space inbetween Sokka and Y/n. The storyteller shook the hat, the jingling of coins being heard.  “Jingle, jingle.”  The two searched their pockets for any money. Y/n didn’t have anything, and the only thing Sokka pulled from his coat pocket was a small ball of lint and a bug.  Y/n offered the storyteller a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”  “Aww. Cheapskates!” The man left them, going to ask other audience members for donations.  She turned to look at Sokka, a disgusted expression apparent on her face at the bug that wiggled around in his hand. “Why… was there a bug in your coat?”  “Hey! Don’t question a man and his bug.” The bug rolled over, and started to crawl up his hand. Sokka yelped and shook it off.  Her expression twisted into amusement. “A man and his bug, huh?”  “It’s not my fault we can’t afford to keep him fed.” 

The next morning, the group found themselves on the way to the Northern Air Temple. Apparently, the airbenders in the story they heard were seen the previous week. It seemed a little too good to be true, that there might be airbenders other than Aang still out there, but Y/n wasn’t going to be the one to crush the kids' hope.  That was Sokka’s job, not hers.  “Hey, we’re almost at the Northern Air Temple! This is where they had the championships for sky bison polo.”  Y/n looked at Aang with a smile. “Sky bison polo? That sounds fun.”  “It is fun! So much fun!”  Katara moved to sit next to her brother. “Do you think we’ll really find airbenders?”  “You want me to be like you, or totally honest?” Sokka asked, focusing on whittling a piece of wood.  “Are you saying I’m a liar?” Katara crossed her arms over her chest.  “I’m saying you’re an optimist. Same thing basically.”  “They’re not the same thing at all.” Y/n commented. The boy just shrugged his shoulders.  “Hey guys, look at this!”  Appa was starting to approach the Northern Air Temple. It sat up on a sheer peak, several people flew around it, and smoke rose from a few pillars.   “Huh! They really are airbenders!” Aang leaned, crossing his arms unhappily. “No, they’re not.”  Sokka pointed up at the people flying around. “What do you mean they’re not? Those guys are flying!”  “Gliding maybe, but not flying. You can tell by the way they move. They’re not airbending. Those people have no spirit.”  Y/n tipped her head to the side, watching the gliders. “I mean, they look like they're flying to me, but you would know best.”  As she finished speaking, a glider passed over the group's heads, nearly taking them off. The glider’s pilot laughed, turning to pass by Appa again. Getting a closer look at the kid, it could be noted that his glider was built out of the wheelchair he sat in.  Katara pointed in the glider’s direction. “I don’t know, Aang. That kid seems pretty spirited!”  The glider made another pass, and soon Aang was standing up glider in hand, before taking off. Another glider flew in front of Appa, startling him and causing Katara and Y/n to fall backwards into Sokka. The three grunted at the impact.  “We better find some solid ground before it finds us!”  Appa made a landing on one of the temple’s outer terraces, the trio getting off him and watching as Aang and the boy in the wheelchair glided through the sky. Aang eventually came down and landed next to them, the other boy also coming to a landing. A few kids came other and detached the glider from his wheelchair, before he wheeled over to the group.  “Hey! You’re a real airbender! You must be the Avatar! That’s amazing! I- I- I’ve heard stories about you.”  Aang rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Thanks.”  “Wow! This glider chair is incredible!” Sokka rushed over to the kids who had the glider setup, inspecting it.  “If you think this is good, wait until you see the other stuff my Dad designed.”  He began to wheel away, the group following. They were led through the huge main gate of the temple, into the main chamber. The room was dominated by steam-powered machinery with many wheels, gears and pipes.  “Wow!” Sokka ran forward, looking around the room excitedly.  “Yeah, my dad is the mastermind behind this whole place! Everything’s powered by hot air. It even pumps hot air currents outside to give us a lift when we’re gliding.”  Aang took a look around. “This place is unbelievable.”  The boy in the wheelchair smiled. “Yeah, it’s great isn’t it?”  “No, just unbelievable.”  Y/n tried to hold back a laugh, clearing her throat to force down her laughter.  “Aang used to come here a long time ago. I think he’s a little shocked it’s so… different.” Katara said, before following after Aang when he walked off.  “So better!”  Rolling her eyes, Y/n elbowed Sokka in the shoulder. He gave her a look.  “Come on, you don’t think this is cool at all?”  “Not really.” 

Soon they followed the boy, Teo, to another part of the temple. This time it was a courtyard of sorts, it was untouched, and there were statues of airbenders.  Aang was much happier about this, than he had been about the other room. “It’s nice to see even one part of the temple that isn’t ruined.” He spoke, as him, Y/n and Katara looked at a huge statue of an airbender monk.  “Look out!” A voice shouted out, shortly before a wrecking ball crashed through the statue. The three flew backwards with the debris, and everyone started to cough from the dust. As the dust settled, several people could be seen through the hole that’d been created. One of the people walked forward, a middle aged man with a mostly bald head who wore a monocle, a green tunic and an apron.  “What the doodle! Don’t you know enough to stay away from construction sites? We have to make room for the bathhouse!”  “Do you know what you just did? You just destroyed something sacred! For a stupid bathhouse!” Aang, clearly upset with the man, took on an airbending stance.  The man waved a hand in front of his nose. “Well, people around here are starting to stink.”  Aang pointed at him. “This whole place stinks!” He slammed his staff against the ground, sending a strong gust of wind through the hole in the wall, knocking the wrecking ball and it’s rig off the building's foundation. “This is a sacred temple! You can’t treat it this way. I’ve seen it when the monks were here. I know what it’s supposed to be like.”  “The monks? But you’re twelve!”  Teo wheeled over. “Dad, he’s the Avatar. He used to come here a hundred years ago.”  Aang walked closer to the man. “What are you doing? Who said you could be here?”  “Hmmm… doing here… A long time ago, but not a hundred years, my people became refugees after a terrible flood.” He gestured his arms for effect, before moving to stand behind his son. “My infant son, Teo, was badly hurt and lost his mother.” Sniffling, he held back tears. “I needed somewhere to rebuild and I stumbled across this place. Couldn’t believe it! Everywhere pictures of flying people. But empty! Nobody home! Then I came across these fan like contraptions!”  He held his arms out as if they were wings, making flying motions with them as he walked about the courtyard for a short moment. He stopped in front of Aang, who was clearly still upset.  “Our gliders.”  “Yes, little light flying machines. They gave me an idea. Build a new life for my son, in the air! Then everyone would be on equal ground, so to speak! We’re just in the process of improving upon what’s already here and after all, isn’t that what nature does?” Aang was still upset, while Sokka and Katara stood behind him, teary eyed from the story. Y/n rolled her eyes at the siblings, before moving to stand next to Aang, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Sure, the story was sad, but to her the boy’s feelings were more important.  The Mechanist turned to look through the hole in the wall he’d created. “I suppose that’s true. Unfortunately, progress has a way of getting away from us.” He looked down in a bout of sadness, before his head snapped up to look at an odd candle device..? A bit aways from them. “Look at the time!” Three candles burned brightly on a stone pedestal, each separated into their own sections. Next to the pedestal, a large mallet rests, sitting head down. The Mechanist turned to one of the scribes behind him. “Come the pulley system must be oiled before dark.”  Sokka approached the candles, observing them. “Wait, how can you tell the time from that thing? The notches all look the same.”  “The candle will tell us. Watch.”  The candle’s flame snapped four times in a row.  “You put spark powder in the candle!” “Four flashes, so it’s exactly four hours past midday, or, as I call it, four o’candle!”  Sokka let out a laugh, as The Mechanist looked at him, seemingly pleased he was interested. “If you like that, wait till you see my finger safe knife sharpener!” Y/n’s attention moved to the man at the mention of that, watching as he held up his left hand, where three of his fingers were made of wood. He detached them from his hand, before tossing them to Sokka. “Only took me three tries to get it right!” Sokka let out a scream, as he caught the wooden fingers. “Follow me!”  The Mechanist turned to leave, the men who were with him and Sokka quickly followed. As the boy passed by Y/n, he grabbed onto her wrist and dragged her along with him. She offered a quick goodbye wave to Aang, Katara and Teo as she was dragged away. 

Quiet steps echoed through the narrow hallway, as Y/n, Sokka and The Mechanist descending a narrow staircase. Each of them held a lantern, glowing with sparse blue light.  “These lanterns are terrible! I can’t see.”  Y/n ran into Sokka’s back, as he abruptly stopped to open the jar to his lantern. She flicked the back of his head, as he continued to speak. “Why would you want to use fireflies for light- Hey!”  She snickered, watching the firefly that escaped from his lantern.  The Mechanist turned to look at them. “Hey, close that up! They’ll get loose. Fireflies are a non-flammable light source.”  “Are you meaning to say that something down here is flammable?” Y/n asked, as they all continued walking.  “Well, why else would I need a non-flammable light source?” The Mechanist offered a chuckle, as they approached a door. The edges of it were blocked by some sort of sealant, which he felt around, probably to check for leaks.  After checking he turned back to them. “Cover your nose and hold your breath.”  Once they’d done so, The Mechanist slid open a panel in the door, which they all looked through. It just showed a dark and empty room. “Okay, so you brought us all the way down here to see an empty room.” Sokka spoke with a somewhat confused tone.  “Wrong.”  Eyebrows furrowing together, Y/n watched as the panel was slid shut again. “You brought us all the way down here to see a room full of flammable explosive gas?”  “Correct! It’s filled to the brim with natural gas. Came across it my first time here. Unfortunately, I was carrying a torch at the time. Nearly blew myself and the whole place even more sky high. Thought my eyebrows would never grow back! Anyway, there’s a vital problem that needs solving. From time to time we have gas leaks and they’re nearly impossible to find.”  Y/n took a few steps back, as Sokka helped check the door for leaks. “So this place is an explosion waiting to happen?”  “Yes, until I figure out how to locate something I can’t see, hear, smell or touch.”  “Right, is it safe for us to be around this gas? Should we be wearing masks or something, in case we come across a leak so we don’t, you know, inhale it?”  “Oh don’t worry, we should be fine.” The Mechanist paused for a moment, straightening up after finishing checking for leaks. “Well, as long as you aren’t a firebender or something- hah!” He let out a laugh, which Sokka quickly shared.  Sokka nudged her in the arm, as they started walking back. “Oh come on, that was funny. You know that was funny.”  “Yeah, hilarious.”  He threw an arm over her shoulders. “Come on, loosen up. We’re gonna be fine, even if we do come across a leak.”  She put her hands up in defense. “Okay, okay.” 

The Mechanist led the pair to his workshop, and very clearly told them not to touch anything, before going to look over some papers on his desk. Sokka, of course, did not listen to that and started poking through things the moment the man's attention wasn’t on them.  “Sokka, he said not to touch anything.” Y/n whispered, smacking his hand away from something he was about to mess with.  He gently pushed her away a bit, before going right back to poking around. “Calm down, it’s fine. It’s not like I’m going to break an-” Sokka cut himself off, as he knocked some stuff over. Grimacing, he tried to keep it from falling to the ground.  “I said don’t touch anything!”  When The Mechanist spoke up, Sokka dropped the things to the ground. Y/n crossed her arms over her chest. “Not gonna break anything, huh?”  The Mechanist came over, to help Sokka pick the things up. “Oh, don’t worry, that experiment is old and that egg was just part of last week’s lunch.”  Y/n kneeled down to help them too, as Sokka sniffed the air. “Ugh! Week old egg smell!”   “Quick! Find that egg!”  The three started to crawl around, looking for the egg, but none of them were having much luck.  “How could something that’s so small you can’t even see it make such a big stink!?” Sokka complained as they looked. The Mechanist perked up at the comment. “That’s the solution to our problem!”  “Yeah!” Y/n looked at the two, confused, as they faced each other with excitement. “What?”  “If we put a whole mess of rotten eggs in the cellar where the gas seeps up..” Sokka started the thought, which The Mechanist continued.  “The gas will mix with the smell of rotten eggs…”  “Then, if there’s a leak…”  “You smell rotten eggs! Then you just follow your nose to the place where the smell is coming from..”  “And plug up the hole where the gas is escaping!”  “You’re a genius!” The two spoke in unison.  Still, Y/n looked between the two with a confused expression. “ What? ”  Suddenly, a large bell started to ring, and The Mechanist was quick to get up and rush from the room. “Something’s wrong I’ve got to go.”  “Wonder what that’s about.” Sokka said, getting up himself. He helped Y/n up, grinning. “We should follow him.”  “Always a snoop, huh?” Laughing softly, she shook her head. “Alright.”  Grasping onto her wrist, he dragged her out of the room to follow after The Mechanist. They’d followed him to another room, one that was filled to the brim with different war machines branded with the Fire Nation’s insignia. 

“You make weapons for the Fire Nation!?” Sokka was clearly angry with his words, rightfully so. Y/n was pretty mad about this development as well. She pointed a finger at The Mechanist.  “You! You're terrible. Horrible terrible!”  The Mechanist looked at the ground in humiliation and shame.  Teo looked at his father angrily. “Explain all this! Now!”  “It was about a year after we moved here. Fire Nation soldiers found our settlement. You were too young to remember this tale. They were going to destroy everything, burn it to the ground. I pleaded with them, begged them to spare us. They asked what I had to offer. I offered… my services. You must understand, I did this for you!” Teo turned his wheelchair away, clearly upset. The Mechanist turned on his heel, and walked back down the hall, leaving the five kids in the room.   Teo shook his head. “I can’t believe this…. This is terrible.”  “I know..” Aang looked at the weapons with disdain. “There’s so much here.”  Y/n crossed her arms over her chest. “The Fire Nation could be coming for this soon…”  Aang breathed out a sigh. “Your right… I’m going to go figure it out.”  “I’ll come with.” Teo said, as Aang started to leave the room, before following the boy.  With Aang and Teo’s return, they found out that the Fire Nation was coming soon. And they were intending to burn this place to the ground. They were all outside on one of the walkways, trying to figure out a plan.  “This is bad! Very bad!”  Katara looked over to Aang. “Aang, what are we gonna do? How can we possibly keep them all away?”  “I’ll tell you how.” He pointed to the sky. “We have something they don’t. Air power! We control the sky. That’s something the Fire Nation can’t do. We can win!”  “I want to help.” The Mechanist approached the group, as he spoke up.  Aang offered the man a smile. “Good, we’ll need it.” 

“We finally got the war balloon working, thanks to Sokka. This boy’s a genius!”  “Thank you. You’re a genius!” “Thank you!” Y/n rolled her eyes at the exchange. “Can we get on with this?”  Sokka cleared his throat. “Right. See, the problem with the old war balloon was you could get it airborne, but once you did, it just kept going.” He demonstrated with a model that flew up and hit the ceiling. “You could put a hole in the top, but then all the hot air would escape. So the question became, how do you keep a lid on hot air?”  “Ugh, if only we knew.” Katara commented. Y/n, Aang, Teo and Katara herself all laughed at the remark.  Ignoring them, Sokka pulled the model down from the ceiling, now showing off the mechanism to open and close a lid on the top. “A lid is actually the answer. If you control the hot air, you control the war balloon.” He demonstrated again, but this time the model didn’t fly up to the ceiling, thanks to the lid that could be pulled open with a string.  Katara crossed her arms. “Hmm. That’s actually pretty smart.”  “Okay, we’ve got four kinds of bombs. Smoke, smile, fire and-”  The Mechanist cut Sokka off. “Stink. Never underestimate the power of stink!” 

“We’re going to have to modify this to the new design, and fast.” The Mechanist said, as him, Sokka and Y/n worked on bringing the War Balloon he’d already constructed outside. “With both of you helping we should be able to get it up and running pretty quickly though!”  “Yeah! And I’m pretty sure Aang and Katara will be able to hold off the Fire Nation with everyone’s help.”  Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “They’ll be able to hold them off, but we can’t count on them too for too long, even if we have the skies. The Fire Nation’s army is huge, who knows how many soldiers will show up.”  They got the balloon set up to do the necessary modifications. “Oh she’s right, time is not something we have on our side right now.”  Sokka nodded in understanding. “Right. It’s only one modification though, so it can’t take terribly long, right?”  “Let’s hope not.”  Getting to work on the War Balloon, they probably could have gotten things done a little faster. But nonetheless, they got it done, and just in time too apparently. While Sokka and The Mechanist got ready to take off in the war balloon, Y/n went to find the others to see how they were holding up.  “How are things going out here?” She asked, once she found Katara, Aang and Teo. The three looked at her with slight concern.  “Not well.” Katara started. “Please tell us Sokka is coming with that war balloon soon.”  Before she could give an answer, the war balloon rose up from behind them all, and started moving towards the battle field. From where they all stood, they could see Sokka and The Mechanist dropping giant slime bombs onto the Fire Nation soldiers. The bombs that they had didn’t stop the soldiers, however, and they were starting to advance closer to the Temple.  Katara put a hand on Y/n’s shoulder, to get her attention. “What are they doing..?”  She squinted in the direction of the war balloon, trying to see what was going on. “I’m not sur-” She cut herself off, watching as something fell from the basket of the war balloon. Was that the balloons fuel source? “Did they just push out their fuel source..?!” “What?!”  A sudden explosion set off, a really really big one. The entire Temple got clouded in a ginormous wall of grey smoke. When the smoke dissipated, it was revealed that the Fire Nation was retreating.  Aang pointed to where the army was leaving. “Look! They’re retreating!” Everyone started to cheer at the success, but the joy was cut short, as the war balloon started heading downwards quickly. Thankfully though, Aang was able to get Sokka and The Mechanist before the balloon crashed below.  Currently, they all stood outside on the main terrace of the Air Temple.  “You know what? I’m really glad you guys all live here now. It’s like the hermit crab.” Aang spoke, as he carefully picked up one of the hermit crabs near them all. “Maybe you weren’t born here, but you found this empty shell and made it your home. And now you protect each other.”  Teo offered a smile to the boy. “That means a lot coming from you.”  “Aang you were right about air power.” Sokka pointed to the sky. “As long as we’ve got the skies we’ll have the Fire Nation on the run!”

[mings]

Some context...

...in relation to that last post. This is a lo-o-o-o-ong read, so feel free to skip right by if catharsis bores you.

This starts way before I joined tumblr; in fact, long before tumblr was even a thing.

Twenty years ago, we lived in a huge house backing onto the English Channel. We moved there from Scotland, which turned out to be (probably) the biggest mistake of my life. 

Within nine months of buying the place, the company I’d moved to work for nearly folded. I and most of the workforce were made redundant. That set in motion an existential battle with our mortgage insurer, which refused to pay out because I “must have known” when taking out the insurance. (I didn’t, and they eventually caved in after destroying my credit record, but that’s another story.)

Work wasn’t immediately available; none that would at least cover the bills. We got inventive, wrote a business plan, obtained finance & bought a franchise. It went pretty well for the first three years, but we had to bust a gut to make the required income. It wasn’t easy. Eventually, the franchise operator messed up relations with several key players in our insurance market. Within three months, we lost 75% of our revenue. I had to close the workshop & find part time work to make ends meet. Ultimately, we decided to close the business, sell the house and downsize to something more manageable.

What’s the relevance of this? We tried hard to keep our precarious financial state form the kids. Maybe we didn’t do as well as we thought. Our son had already become withdrawn. He’d fallen in with a group of local lads about whom we had grave misgivings. Of course, there was no discussing it. We were “over-reacting” and unreasonable. It was around that time that he decided to jack in his education. I couldn’t criticise; I’d done the same. I pulled some strings and got him a job at our local Royal Mail delivery office.

We moved to our new place. It was a stressful move. Trying to fit into a house that was literally half the size was never going to be an easy task. One afternoon, our son came home from work and soon after announced he was going out. “See you later.” Only we didn’t. He didn’t come home that night. Nor did he turn up for work the next day. Nor the day after. And nor the day after that. Within a week he was written up for unauthorised absence. We had no way of contacting him. His case was heard in the following weeks. I could offer no mitigation. He was sacked for abandonment of duty. That tag that means he’ll never work for them again. 

We still had no idea where he was. We only knew he was alive because we met a couple of his friends who couldn’t believe he’d not been in touch. Still no word. My wife was in shreds; I suspect any of you who are parents can identify with that. I was alternating between trying to prop her up and stay on top of my job, all the while under a constant barrage of barracking (Oh, we don’t mean anything by it, it’s just banter....)

About three months in I’d had enough. Sleep was a scarce resource so I rose at the crack of dawn and started on a trip, rousting one after another of the friends and acquaintances that I knew, following leads until finally I tracked him down to a sordid bedsit several towns and 40 miles away. At least he answered the door and looked sheepish. He offered no explanation or apology, and has never done so to date. He refused to come back home, but promised to keep in touch. 

We know he bounced from one sofa to another in the next few months. He spent time in some of the worst areas in the county for drug abuse. He fell into a relationship with a girl that looked promising initially and subsequently fell apart. Later, he surfaced in another town with another girl whom he subsequently married. She often spoke of his irascible temperament and moods. Ultimately the marriage was doomed; she was younger than him, found a new interest and moved out. One wonders now how much of that was her and how much she’d put up with before voting with her feet.

He’s stumbled from one financial crisis to another. Money just evaporates. It’s as though adulting is a mystery beyond his reach. I’ve lost count of the times that we’ve thrown money at him and I don’t want to even think about how much. It’s literally thousands, always a loan, yet he never, ever pays back.

He left his job. That was inevitable too; he worked for his ex-father-in-law’s company. Heaven only knows how long the writing was on the wall; it was pretty swift once she left. He drifted again. He chose to live in a squalid flat with no heating rather than move back with us. Absolutely his choice, not ours. 

We moved to Scotland. That meant all his stuff had to go into storage. Quick rewind - he moved all his stuff to ours when he gave up the house he & his ex lived in, but refused to move back home. I had to rent a storage unit to make space for all his gear & when we moved I shifted all his gear into the store, gave him the key & told him I’d paid three months up front; after that it was his to deal with. Apparently, he surrendered the store and moved all his gear into the flat...

Fast forward to a couple of months back. He’d run out of options at the flat. His flatmate was “really difficult” to live with. His ex had moved away, taking their son with her. He had nothing left to stay for and, surprise, he’d lost his job again so he couldn’t afford the rent. 

My wife convinced me we should give him one last shot, citing his fragile mental health. I agreed on the strict understanding that we are simply no longer in a position to support him. He assured us he’d be applying for work as soon as he got here. We rarely see him before midday...

We agreed the end of the first week in March. We knew he’d arrive with a ton of stuff so we had (again) to create space. That’s infinitely more difficult now we’re running a B&B, but we set to the task. Suddenly, two weeks sooner than we’d agreed, he rented a van and was on his way. No discussion, no warning. We only found out because he put something on FB. 

Finally, after trying to reach him most of the day, he phoned. Whilst we should have been relieved, instead we were treated to a barrage of abuse because all the petrol stations were shut. Of course they were. It was in a national lockdown and why would they stay open when there was no one on the roads? JFC, who embarks on a journey in sub-zero temperatures across some of the most inhospitable country in the UK without enough fuel? With a six year old child. Yes, not only did he forget to tell us about his change of plans, he forgot to tell us he was bringing his son too.

We drove south through the night for two hours to find him somewhere in the Cairngorms where he’d run out of fuel. No fuel meant no heaters at 1500 feet in deep snow. The ambient temperature was -5ºC/23ºF & with wind chill that was probably around -10ºC/14ºF. We found him & refuelled his van. No thanks, just another barrage of abuse, because he was tired. We took his son into our car & drove the two hours back in near silence. I think we knew then that it was an awful predictor of what was to come.

We’ve had row after row. He accused me of being passive-aggressive in the last. He actually ticks all the boxes for passive-aggressive behaviour. I’ve never been tagged with that before; if anything I’m too forthright, blunt even. That’s a failing to which I will admit. If by that he meant that I don’t talk about the elephant in the room, it’s only because we fear it’ll lead to another explosion.

He never saw the damage that we sustained during our fostering years. He was never there. Yet here we are, experiencing flashbacks to those traumatic incidents; the parallels are exact. We have the benefit of years of training. We recognise manipulative behaviour when we see it - we were trained by some of the nations best exponents - and we know divisive tactics implicitly.  What he doesn’t know is that he will succeed only in pushing us closer together and alienating himself even further.

There are clear and well-documented links between cannabis and mental health issues. He is allowing the drug to determine his life choices. Although I may be wrong, I think he’s cultivating skunk, which is nothing like the weed that circulated in my youth. The smell that pervades our hallway is instantly evocative of high strength Afghan resin. It’s also going to be acutely difficult to eradicate before we’re due to open.

We’ve endured 20 years of this treatment. I know that even if we have a ritual burning, it will only be a matter of time before we’re back here again. We’re old. We’re tired. And we’ve worked our socks off (and still do) to achieve what we have. Maybe somewhere along the way we missed something. But I’m at a stage where I’m so far beyond this I just want it to stop.