#15 weeks of phantom

[fdelopera]

115 years ago today, on 8 January 1910, Gaston Leroux published the final installment of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra in Le Gaulois newspaper. You can read the final installment on my blog here.

Leroux and his editor at Pierre Lafitte & Cie. then edited his serialized text, removing a chapter (”The Magic Envelope”) and several other large sections in the process, and republished his work as a novel three months later in April 1910.

I encourage everyone to do something to mark the occasion and celebrate the beginnings of The Phantom of the Opera!

Below the cut, I have linked all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 115 yeas ago.

Newspaper Announcement, 22 September, 1909

On 22 September, 1909, the Parisian daily newspaper, Le Gaulois, ran the advertisement linked above, announcing the serialization of Gaston Leroux's new novel, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra.

Leroux's novel premiered on 23 September, 1909. It ran for 15 weeks, and it was segmented into 68 sections, each section covering roughly half a chapter's worth of content.

1) Avant-Propos, 23 September, 1909

This is how it all began! On Thursday, 23 September, 1909, the first section of Gaston Leroux’s Le Fantôme de l'Opéra was printed on page 3 in the feuilleton section of the Parisian daily newspaper, Le Gaulois.

This first section includes the text of the Avant-Propos (Foreword) from Leroux’s novel.

2) Chapter 1, Part 1. 24 September, 1909

Welcome to the 2nd day of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today's installment, we have Part I of Chapter 1: "Est-ce le fantôme?" ("Is It the Phantom?")

3) Chapter 1, Part 2. 25 September, 1909

Welcome to the 3rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 1: “Est-ce le fantôme?” (“Is It the Phantom?”)

4) Chapter 1, Part 3. Chapter 2, Part 1. 27 September, 1909

Welcome to the 4th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 1: “Est-ce le fantôme?” (“Is It the Phantom?”), as well as Part I of Chapter 2: "La Marguerite Nouvelle" ("The New Marguerite").

5) Chapter 2, Part 2. 28 September, 1909

Welcome to the 5th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 2: “La Marguerite Nouvelle” (“The New Marguerite”).

6) Chapter 2, Part 3. Chapter 3, Part 1. 30 September, 1909

Welcome to the 6th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 2: “La Marguerite Nouvelle” (“The New Marguerite”), as well as Part I of Chapter 3: “Où pour la première fois, MM. Debienne et Poligny donnent, en secret, aux nouveaux directeurs de l’Opéra, MM. Armand Monchardin et Firmin Richard, la véritable et mystérieuse raison de leur départ de l’Académie nationale de musique” (“Where for the First Time, MM. Debienne and Poligny Secretly Give the New Managers of the Opera, MM. Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard, the True and Mysterious Reason for Their Departure from the National Academy of Music”).

7) Chapter 3, part 2. 1 October, 1909

Welcome to the 7th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 3: “Où pour la première fois, MM. Debienne et Poligny donnent, en secret, aux nouveaux directeurs de l’Opéra, MM. Armand Monchardin et Firmin Richard, la véritable et mystérieuse raison de leur départ de l’Académie nationale de musique” (“Where for the First Time, MM. Debienne and Poligny Secretly Give the New Managers of the Opera, MM. Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard, the True and Mysterious Reason for Their Departure from the National Academy of Music”).

8) Chapter 3, Part 3. Chapter 4, Part 1. 2 October, 1909

Welcome to the 8th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 installments of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 3: “Où pour la première fois, MM. Debienne et Poligny donnent, en secret, aux nouveaux directeurs de l’Opéra, MM. Armand Monchardin et Firmin Richard, la véritable et mystérieuse raison de leur départ de l’Académie nationale de musique” (“Where for the First Time, MM. Debienne and Poligny Secretly Give the New Managers of the Opera, MM. Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard, the True and Mysterious Reason for Their Departure from the National Academy of Music”). We also have Part I of Chapter 4: "La Loge N° 5" ("Box 5").

9) Chapter 4, Part 2. 5 October, 1909

Welcome to the 9th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 4: “La Loge N° 5” (“Box 5”).

10) Chapter 4, Part 3. Chapter 5, Part 1. 6 October, 1909

Welcome to the 10th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 4: "La Loge N° 5” (“Box 5”), and Part I of Chapter 5: "Suite de « La Loge N° 5 »" ("Box 5 Continued").

11) Chapter 5, Part 2. 7 October, 1909

Welcome to the 11th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 5: “Suite de « La Loge N° 5 »” (“Box 5 Continued”).

12) Chapter 5, Part 3. Chapter 6, Part 1. 9 October, 1909

Welcome to the 12th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 5: “Suite de « La Loge N° 5 »” (“Box 5 Continued”), and Part I of Chapter 6, "Le Violon Enchanté" ("The Magic Violin").

13) Chapter 6, Part 2. 11 October, 1909

Welcome to the 13th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 6, “Le Violon Enchanté” (“The Magic Violin”).

14) Chapter 6, Part 3. 13 October, 1909

Welcome to the 14th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 6, “Le Violon Enchanté” (“The Magic Violin”).

15) Chapter 6, Part 4. 14 October, 1909

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

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 6, “Le Violon Enchanté” (“The Magic Violin”).

16) Chapter 6, Part 5. Chapter 7, Part 1. 16 October, 1909

Welcome to the 16th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 6, “Le Violon enchanté” (“The Magic Violin”), and Part I of Chapter 7, "Une Visite à la loge n° 5" ("A Visit to Box 5").

17) Chapter 7, Part 2. Chapter 8, Part 1. 19 October, 1909

Welcome to the 17th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 7, “Une Visite à la loge n° 5” (“A Visit to Box 5”), and Part I of Chapter 8, "Où MM. Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin ont l’audace de faire représenter « Faust » dans une salle « maudite » et de l’effroyable événement qui en résulta" ("Where MM. Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin Have the Audacity to Have 'Faust' Performed in a 'Cursed' House and the Horrifying Event Which Thereby Ensued").

18) Chapter 8, Part 2. 21 October, 1909

Welcome to the 18th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 8, “Où MM. Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin ont l’audace de faire représenter « Faust » dans une salle « maudite » et de l’effroyable événement qui en résulta” (“Where MM. Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin Have the Audacity to Have ‘Faust’ Performed in a ‘Cursed’ House and the Horrifying Event Which Thereby Ensued”).

19) Chapter 8, Part 3. 22 October, 1909

Welcome to the 19th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 8, “Où MM. Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin ont l’audace de faire représenter « Faust » dans une salle « maudite » et de l’effroyable événement qui en résulta” (“Where MM. Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin Have the Audacity to Have ‘Faust’ Performed in a ‘Cursed’ House and the Horrifying Event Which Thereby Ensued”).

20) Chapter 8, Part 4. 24 October, 1909

Welcome to the 20th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 8, “Où MM. Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin ont l’audace de faire représenter « Faust » dans une salle « maudite » et de l’effroyable événement qui en résulta” (“Where MM. Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin Have the Audacity to Have ‘Faust’ Performed in a ‘Cursed’ House and the Horrifying Event Which Thereby Ensued”).

21) Chapter 8, Part 5. 26 October, 1909

Welcome to the 21st installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 8, “Où MM. Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin ont l’audace de faire représenter « Faust » dans une salle « maudite » et de l’effroyable événement qui en résulta” (“Where MM. Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin Have the Audacity to Have ‘Faust’ Performed in a ‘Cursed’ House and the Horrifying Event Which Thereby Ensued”).

22) Chapter 9, Part 1. 27 October, 1909

Welcome to the 22nd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part I of Chapter 9, “Le mystérieux coupé” (“The Mysterious Carriage”).

23) Chapter 9, Part 2. Chapter 10, Part 1. 28 October, 1909

Welcome to the 23rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 9, “Le mystérieux coupé” (“The Mysterious Carriage”), and Part I of Chapter 10, "Au bal masqué" ("At the Masked Ball").

24) Chapter 10, Part 2. 30 October, 1909

Welcome to the 24th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 10, “Au bal masqué” (“At the Masked Ball”).

25) Chapter 10, Part 3. 1 November, 1909

Welcome to the 25th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 10, “Au bal masqué” (“At the Masked Ball”).

26) Chapter 10, Part 4. 2 November, 1909

Welcome to the 26th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 10, “Au bal masqué” (“At the Masked Ball”).

27) Chapter 11, Part 1. 3 November, 1909

Welcome to the 27th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part I of Chapter 11, “L'enveloppe magique” (“The Magic Envelope”).

28) Chapter 11, Part 2. 4 November, 1909

Welcome to the 28th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 11, “L’enveloppe magique” (“The Magic Envelope”).

29) Chapter 11, Part 3. Chapter 12, Part 1. 5 November, 1909

Welcome to the 29th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 11, “L’enveloppe magique” (“The Magic Envelope”), and Part I of Chapter 12, “Il faut oublier le nom de « la voix d'homme »” (“You Must Forget the Name of ‘the Man’s Voice’”).

30) Chapter 12, Part 2. 7 November, 1909

Welcome to the 30th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 12, “Il faut oublier le nom de « la voix d’homme »” (“You Must Forget the Name of ‘the Man’s Voice’”).

31) Chapter 12, Part 3. Chapter 13, Part 1. 9 November, 1909

Welcome to the 31st installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 12, “Il faut oublier le nom de « la voix d’homme »” (“You Must Forget the Name of ‘the Man’s Voice’”), and Part I of Chapter 13, “Au-dessus des trappes” (“Above the Trapdoors”).

32) Chapter 13, Part 2. 11 November, 1909

Welcome to the 32nd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 13, “Au-dessus des trappes” (“Above the Trapdoors”).

33) Chapter 13, Part 3. Chapter 14, Part 1. 13 November, 1909

Welcome to the 33rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 13, “Au-dessus des trappes” (“Above the Trapdoors”), and Part I of Chapter 14, “La lyre d'Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

34) Chapter 14, Part 2. 15 November, 1909

Welcome to the 34th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

We are now at the halfway point of the Gaulois publication!

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 14, “La lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

35) Chapter 14, Part 3. 16 November, 1909

Welcome to the 35th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 14, “La lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

36) Chapter 14, Part 4. 18 November, 1909

Welcome to the 36th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 14, “La lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

37) Chapter 14, Part 5. 20 November, 1909

Welcome to the 37th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 14, “La lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

38) Chapter 14, Part 6. 22 November, 1909

Welcome to the 38th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part VI of Chapter 14, “La lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

39) Chapter 14, Part 7. Chapter 15, Part 1. 23 November, 1909

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

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

40) Chapter 15, Part 2. 25 November, 1909

Welcome to the 40th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 15, “Un Coup de maître de l’amateur de trappes” (“A Masterstroke of the Trapdoor Lover”).

41) Chapter 15, Part 3. Chapter 16, Part 1. 27 November, 1909

Welcome to the 41st installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 15, “Un Coup de maître de l’amateur de trappes” (“A Masterstroke of the Trapdoor Lover”), and Part I of Chapter 16, “Singulière attitude d’une épingle de nourrice” (“Strange Behavior Regarding a Safety Pin”).

42) Chapter 16, Part 2. 29 November, 1909

Welcome to the 42nd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 16, “Singulière attitude d’une épingle de nourrice” (“Strange Behavior Regarding a Safety Pin”).

43) Chapter 17 (full chapter). Chapter 18, Part 1. 30 November, 1909

Welcome to the 43rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Chapter 17, “Christine ! Christine !” (“Christine! Christine!”), as well as Part I of Chapter 18, “Révélations étonnantes de Mme Giry, relatives à ses relations personnelles avec le fantôme de l’Opéra” (“Mme Giry’s Astonishing Revelations, Regarding Her Personal Relations with the Phantom of the Opera”).

44) Chapter 18, Part 2. 3 December, 1909

Welcome to the 44th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 18, “Révélations étonnantes de Mme Giry, relatives à ses relations personnelles avec le fantôme de l’Opéra” (“Mme Giry’s Astonishing Revelations, Regarding Her Personal Relations with the Phantom of the Opera”).

45) Chapter 18, Part 3. Chapter 19, Part 1. 4 December, 1909

Welcome to the 45th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 18, “Révélations étonnantes de Mme Giry, relatives à ses relations personnelles avec le fantôme de l’Opéra” (“Mme Giry’s Astonishing Revelations, Regarding Her Personal Relations with the Phantom of the Opera”), and Part I of Chapter 19, “Suite de la curieuse attitude d’une épingle de nourrice” (“Continuation of the Odd Behavior Regarding a Safety Pin”).

46) Chapter 19, Part 2. Chapter 20, Part 1. 5 December, 1909

Welcome to the 46th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 19, “Suite de la curieuse attitude d’une épingle de nourrice” (“Continuation of the Odd Behavior Regarding a Safety Pin”), and Part I of Chapter 20, “Le Commissaire de police, le vicomte et le Persan” (The Commissary of Police, the Vicomte, and the Persian).

47) Chapter 20, Part 2. 7 December, 1909

Welcome to the 47th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 20, “Le Commissaire de police, le vicomte et le Persan” (The Commissary of Police, the Vicomte, and the Persian).

48) Chapter 20, Part 3. Chapter 21, Part 1. 9 December, 1909

Welcome to the 48th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 20, “Le Commissaire de police, le vicomte et le Persan” (The Commissary of Police, the Vicomte, and the Persian), and Part I of Chapter 21, “Le Vicomte et le Persan” (The Vicomte and the Persian).

49) Chapter 21, Part 2. Chapter 22, Part 1. 10 December, 1909

Welcome to the 49th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 21, “Le Vicomte et le Persan” (The Vicomte and the Persian), and Part I of Chapter 22, “Dans les dessous de l’Opéra” (In the Underside of the Opera).

50) Chapter 22, Part 2. 13 December, 1909

Welcome to the 50th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 22, “Dans les dessous de l’Opéra” (In the Underside of the Opera).

51) Chapter 22, Part 3. 14 December, 1909

Welcome to the 51st installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 22, “Dans les dessous de l’Opéra” (In the Underside of the Opera).

52) Chapter 22, Part 4. 16 December, 1909

Welcome to the 52nd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 22, “Dans les dessous de l’Opéra” (In the Underside of the Opera).

53) Chapter 22, Part 5. Chapter 23, Part 1. 19 December, 1909

Welcome to the 53rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 22, “Dans les dessous de l’Opéra” (In the Underside of the Opera), and Part I of Chapter 23, “Intéressantes et instructives tribulations d’un Persan dans les dessous de l’Opéra: Recit du Persan” (Interesting and Informative Tribulations of a Persian in the Underside of the Opera: The Persian’s Narrative).

54) Chapter 23, Part 2. 20 December, 1909

Welcome to the 54th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 23, “Intéressantes et instructives tribulations d’un Persan dans les dessous de l’Opéra: Recit du Persan” (Interesting and Informative Tribulations of a Persian in the Underside of the Opera: The Persian’s Narrative).

55) Chapter 23, Part 3. 21 December, 1909

Welcome to the 55th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 23, “Intéressantes et instructives tribulations d’un Persan dans les dessous de l’Opéra: Recit du Persan” (Interesting and Informative Tribulations of a Persian in the Underside of the Opera: The Persian’s Narrative).

56) Chapter 23, Part 4. 24 December, 1909

Welcome to the 56th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 23, “Intéressantes et instructives tribulations d’un Persan dans les dessous de l’Opéra: Recit du Persan” (Interesting and Informative Tribulations of a Persian in the Underside of the Opera: The Persian’s Narrative).

57) Chapter 23, Part 5. Chapter 24, Part 1. 25 December, 1909

Welcome to the 57th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 23, “Intéressantes et instructives tribulations d’un Persan dans les dessous de l’Opéra: Recit du Persan” (Interesting and Informative Tribulations of a Persian in the Underside of the Opera: The Persian’s Narrative), as well as Part I of Chapter 24, “Dans la chambre des supplices” (Inside the Torture Chamber).

58) Chapter 24, Part 2. Chapter 25, Part 1. 26 December, 1909

Welcome to the 58th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 24, “Dans la chambre des supplices” (Inside the Torture Chamber), and Part I of Chapter 25, “Les Supplices commencent” (The Torture Begins).

59) Chapter 25, Part 2. 27 December, 1909

Welcome to the 59th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 25, “Les Supplices commencent” (The Torture Begins).

60) Chapter 25, Part 3. Chapter 26, Part 1. 28 December, 1909

Welcome to the 60th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 25, “Les Supplices commencent” (The Torture Begins), and Part I of Chapter 26, “Tonneaux !… Tonneaux !… Avez-vous des tonneaux à vendre ?” (Barrels! Barrels! Have You Any Barrels to Sell?).

61) Chapter 26, Part 2. 31 December, 1909

Welcome to the 61st installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 26, “Tonneaux ! tonneaux ! avez-vous des tonneaux à vendre ?” (Barrels! Barrels! Have You Any Barrels to Sell?).

62) Chapter 26, Part 3. Chapter 27, Part 1. 1 January, 1910

Happy New Year! Welcome to the 62nd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 26, “Tonneaux ! tonneaux ! avez-vous des tonneaux à vendre ?” (Barrels! Barrels! Have You Any Barrels to Sell?), as well as Part I of Chapter 27, “Faut-il tourner le scorpion ? Faut-il tourner la sauterelle ?” (Shall You Turn the Scorpion? Or Shall You Turn the Grasshopper?).

63) Chapter 27, Part 2. 2 January, 1910

Welcome to the 63rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 27, “Faut-il tourner le scorpion ? Faut-il tourner la sauterelle ?” (Shall You Turn the Scorpion? Or Shall You Turn the Grasshopper?).

64) Chapter 27, Part 3. 3 January, 1910

Welcome to the 64th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 27, “Faut-il tourner le scorpion ? Faut-il tourner la sauterelle ?” (Shall You Turn the Scorpion? Or Shall You Turn the Grasshopper?).

65) Chapter 28, Part 1. 5 January, 1910

Welcome to the 65th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part I of Chapter 28, “La Fin des amours du fantôme" (The End of the Phantom’s Love Story).

66) Chapter 28, Part 2. 6 January, 1910

Welcome to the 66th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 28, “La Fin des amours du fantôme" (The End of the Phantom’s Love Story).

67) Epilogue, Part 1. 7 January, 1910

Welcome to the 67th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part I of the Epilogue.

68) Epilogue, Part 2. 8 January, 1910

Welcome to the 68th and final installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom! Over the last 15 weeks, I have posted all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

A HUGE thank you to all of you who have followed me on this literary journey through Phantom. I hope it has been as fascinating for you as it has been for me to see how Leroux and his editors at Pierre Lafitte et Cie. developed and changed his novel from the Gaulois newspaper serialization to the First Edition.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of the Epilogue, and the end of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra.

[bet-on-me-13]

Thats not Fair!?

So! Danny is a Member of the JLA. He is a Millenia Old Ghost who is stuck looking the same as the day he died, so he never aged over all those Centuries. While the JLA is slightly uncomfortable at him being on the Team, they know his circumstances and try to ignore his appearance. He can't control it, its not his Fault.

Or at least, that's what he tells them.

Danny is in fact, a 15 Yr Old Kid, who used his experience as a Time Traveler to trick the JLA into letting him join the Adult Team. He is actually doing a good job in tricking them!

Then, in a complete accident, he runs into Jazz while talking to a few fellow Leaguers.

She showers him in older sister love, hugging him and giving him Nuggies, and when a Leaguer asks how old she is she says "Oh I'm 17, 2 whole years older than this little scamp!"

So there goes that lie.

Fortunately, the League decides to let Danny stay on the Adult Team.

Unfortunately, Young Justice learned about his admittance to the Adult Team and kind of lost it.

"What?! Why is HE allowed on the Adult Team!? He's only been a Hero for a Year! We've all been Heroes for so much longer!?! And for that matter why is Shazam still on the Team!? Is that the new Rule? If you can trick us into letting you in the Team you can stay? Cause we can do that! We can sneak our way in too!"

Basically I want to imagine YJ's reaction to 2 Child Heroes on the Adult Team when they are stuck on the "Baby Team"

I think it would be funny.

[giotanner]

Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi and Padawan Anakin Skywalker (close up!) | Commission for this fanfiction: x Did you notice? In this AU Obi-Wan's Master is Dooku that is why Obi-Wan's lightsaber is similar to his Master's lightsaber! For those who have been following me for a while know 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘐 𝘭𝘰��𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 Padawan Obi-Wan, in the same way I love these AUs. There is a very 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚 reason: Anakin and Obi-Wan had a 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙢 𝙛𝙪����𝙪𝙧𝙚 filled with pain in front of them. Here, however, they were still under the 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦 of their Masters, already trained for battles and wounds, but 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙚𝙮𝙚𝙨.

for a WEEK (end 08/june/) you have 15% on my PRINTS, the code is EVMWTBZD

Instagram | PRINTS

[jamiethebeeart]

Full Hazmat AU: I've never bothered with it before because it's just??? So Much to draw

[legolasghosty]

let's doooooooooooo 57 please! :D

Welp, not very exciting words, but words none the less!

It was almost a full three hours later when they finally hung up the phone. Julie wasn’t exactly surprised by how long it took to explain the entire situation to all parties, but she was exhausted. The constant need to sort out who had been told what parts of the story took more power than her brain apparently had.

(Send me a number and I'll write that many words on my WIP and show you!)

[buckysm]

2:15 am (and i miss you)

ᯓ★ part one, part two

ᯓ★ Bucky Barnes x fem ex hydra AVENGER reader

ᯓ★ word count 8.4k+ (this was going to be 5k but then i ended up writing about 2.5k worth of smut... so!! beware)

ᯓ★a/n: this is weeks late, life happens, shit happens we get back up to write bucky barnes faniction. {para @dove4444 te amo, perdon por la espera <33333} (minor grammar edits on mar 11)

ᯓ★ summary: Tensions rise when a ‘friendship’ builds that leave both of you wanting more. Everyone can see how his eyes never leave you. If only you could get your head out of your ass and see for yourself.

ᯓ★ series warnings/ tags/ tropes: canon? what canon?, haters to lovers -- except you never hated him and he just resented you-- midnight rendezvous, friends to lovers, separation, Anxiety, angst and fluff and smut,  Bucky Needs a Hug, Protective Bucky Barnes Bucky Barnes issues related to past trauma, not so platonic cuddling, slow burn, jealous Bucky Barnes Miscommunication  Soft Bucky Barnes, Mentions of torture off screen ------[PART TWO WARNINGS: unhealthy coping strategies, miscommunication, smut, dry humping, cursing in other languages (Spanish and Russian), dacryphilia, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, p in v unprotected sex]

You needed time to heal after— two days of bed rest, stitches, and recovery from a heavily sprained ankle. And unfortunately for Bucky, that meant no clandestine meetings at quarter past two in the morning. 

He tried his best to keep away. After the initial reunion, he handed you into the infirmary and avoided everyone like the plague. They avoided him right back; he couldn’t blame them. He felt as if a storm cloud enveloped him without you, knew he had murder in his eyes. It cost him to hand you up to the doctors, a pang in his heart at having you taken from him once again. He told himself it wasn’t like that, and you would be back in his line of sight before he knew it. His subconscious disagreed, so he trained for hours until he passed out on a mat, warring voices in his head quieting down with exhaustion that pulled at his body and made gravity stronger. Phantom hands yanking him down into oblivion mid-workout. He toed the line of danger training without a spotter, but once the black started to spot his vision and his dry throat burned with rage —he was a super soldier, neglecting hydration helped him pass out faster— he knew to go to the mat so when he did pass out, at least he wouldn’t injure himself.

One of those days, he came to the Black Widow frowning from above him.

He grumbled an intentionally incoherent sentence, not feeling like interacting. The redhead’s brows furrowed further. Unimpressed with his antics.

“Get a grip, Barnes, this self-pity schtick has to go. Here.” 

He felt more than saw the weight of a water bottle against his stomach. Almost snarled before remembering himself. It was a bit embarrassing. He sat up and grabbed at the water with resentment in what was meant to be one fluid movement but came out clumsy and sluggish. His head pounded, his vision clouded. Embarrassing. Begrudgingly, he unscrewed the water bottle and finished it in slow, measured drinks under Black Widow’s judging gaze.

Said redhead dropped to a crouch, eye level with him, frown unfurling, and even he could see the concern in her eyes and the unpleased twist of her lips.

“Barnes, look. I long ago forgave you for the scar you gave me, and I know that you hold yourself guilty for— don’t give me that look. You know you do. Anyway, the others wanted to stage an intervention— No, before you start, let me finish! They care about you. —No. I know that face. I’m going to ignore all your passive-aggressive expressions now, you petulant child— I know you don’t like to think much about what happened during— well, yes, I know you remember. Haven’t you ever stopped to think why the fifty-sixth floor stayed destroyed? Huh? Yeah! Thought you didn’t. I know you pay close attention to Tony, so I know you know he is prideful and a perfectionist. He wouldn’t leave a floor wrecked just because. And before you get angry. No, he didn’t tell anyone why he let it be. And I know for a fact that he turned off the cameras. I couldn’t find any trace of the feed for the floor, and I am Black Widow — it didn’t take me long to figure out he had forgiven you no matter how much he teases you. Yes, he was hurt, but he ultimately understood that it wasn’t a choice, and he cares in his own asshole way. He��� We care about you, Barnes. And I know things have been awkward with Steve— since you tried to kill him and all--, but if you don’t see that he cherishes you, then you have been lying to yourself. And she cares, too! Did you know she has been accepting visitors? She’s about to be discharged to her own room tomorrow morning. She didn’t need to stay in the infirmary, but Tony worries, and I know you do too. So there is no reason to stay away from your friend— no rational reason. And it pains me to see hope bloom in her eyes once the door opens and how she tries to cover up its shatter when it’s not you. You two understand each other. You are best friends. Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not. We live together. She wears her heart on her sleeve. You just have to learn to read her tells. She will never outright say what she means to say. She will veil her true feelings with insults and sarcasm. Now take a shower and go to her, you big fucking idiot. You reek.” She sprang up in one smooth motion, leaving him with a fond stern look and scolded, all of which reminded him of his sister.

That was the longest she had ever spoken in front of him, even putting every interaction together. He didn’t have time to unpack everything, though. Bucky was left reeling, jaw clenched to prevent it from slacking open in shock. His breaths came in faster and faster. He missed you so much. He couldn’t stop thinking about having you in his arms, wanting you back there forever. But Black Widow was right. He reeked. 

His thoughts ran a mile a second, his body going through the motions without instruction. He went to his bathroom, showered, and did his night routine on autopilot. 

 It was late… you were most definitely sleeping. His every thought is hyper-focused on you. On the fact that you weren’t there, your absence was a heavy and loud presence in his heart.

Bucky stared at his bed, bones weary and freshly showered. He would lie to himself if he said he contemplated sleeping there and visiting you tomorrow. He needed you now— needed you always— But his need for you felt more pronounced at that moment. His body was tired, but it yearned to hold you more than it did sleep. He needed his nightly dose of you. And even then, that wouldn’t be enough; he needed you close, needed you in ways that had him blushing and running himself a cold shower. He shook his head, trying to lose memories of him jerking himself off at breakneck speed, to find some sort of release of the lustful torture he found himself in just by thinking about you— never mind breathing in your scent.

He threw himself on his bed. He tried to keep away, but truly, he did. But between the lands of consciousness and unconsciousness, he saw you. Screaming for him, crying out as you were tortured. He couldn’t take it. His heart pounded as he ran his fingers aggressively through his hair. 

He knew you deserved all that was good in the world, and that excluded him — but that didn’t calm down the tension in his body palpable through his teeth. Bucky tried to breathe in and think rationally, but his limbs moved on their own accord as if deciding for him. 

His mind was a passenger to his body as he was pulled by an invisible string holding his heart hostage, tethered to you, throughout the building to your door.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You couldn’t sleep, or rather, you had been knocked out for a while, sleeping on and off, drifting between the blurred line of realistic nightmare and nonsensical reality, dozed in a wide array of medicine, and found yourself squirming at two a.m. in the morning. 

You were unable to move much. Your leg was elevated to aid your heavy sprain.

Your eyes were heavy, blinking slowly in the darkness. You were so uncomfortable and had to sit with one big fact. Squirmed with it. You wanted to see him. You distracted yourself from any other thoughts, from processing whatever the fuck happened in the warehouse, the new drops in the bucket of blood and death, with memories of his arms around yours. You had relished in life-giving away beneath your hands, just as they had relished in breaking your bones. You glared at your palms as if they would give you an answer to why you didn’t feel guilty. You had to kill your way out. No one was coming to save you. He would’ve. You could see it in his eyes. He was about to fight Captain America to get to you. You shivered, not knowing how to take it. He had been so relieved, and so had you.

Your inhale was shaky. You tried to think of him, but— your greatest fears had come true those long hours before you escaped. Half unconscious with pain, you thought you were back in Hydra. When you screamed in pain from the torture, you thought those nights with him had all been a nice dream. That the beautiful man with the sad blue eyes had been a hallucination. The cruel eyes from not too long ago blurred into those of your past, of older memories from Hydra. A variety of eyes, twin flames, mirrored each other with sadistic pleasure and glee. There was a twist in your gut that didn’t let you give up and told you there was a man with soulful eyes and a gorgeous smile waiting for you. Pure grit brought you back online, moving your body in ways you hadn’t since your Hydra days. Killed so many. You were scared that you didn’t care. Bucky was real, had hugged you so tight—

But an anxious, paranoid part of you still thought so.  You hadn’t seen him in days, and the rational part of you knew he was real, but a dark and needy side of you needed him here to believe it. A heavy sensation of being trapped grew in your body; your limbs, heavy and achy, impeded you from moving much. Frustration built in your chest, rising and rising. Your breaths came out fast and shallow. You didn’t know how to manage it, needed to move, needed him. 

A knock at the door dragged you from your haze. Hope failed to bloom in your chest. Too often, it had grown only for someone who wasn’t Jamie to enter the hospital room.

You couldn’t see through your distress. It was late, and you didn’t want to be bothered— not by anyone who wasn’t him. You slid a hand under your pillow, fingers curling around the grip of your knife. 

You knew those soft footsteps, familiar with them even in their uncertainty— you were dreaming. “Doll?” Oh, how you missed him.

You placed the knife on the bedside. “Jamie?” You weren’t able to keep the excitement and relief from your voice.

“I had a nightmare. I had to check for myself. I’ll let you sleep.” His voice was gruff, worried. Worried.

Yes, you were, in fact, dreaming a pain medication-induced nice dream. Your Jamie was proud. He would never— this was your dream where you could do whatever you wanted, and you wanted him around you. “Come here. There’s enough room for the both of us.”

Dream Jamie didn’t hesitate. The bed shifted with his weight. You flinched when you felt cold metal against you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I can move—”

You giggled softly.  The dark haze dissipates from your mind by his presence. “It’s alright, Jamie. You’re so cold. Get under the covers with me.” You yawned. Now that you weren’t in distress, your subconscious pulled you towards sleep—deeper sleep since you were already in the sandman’s territory.

There was an awkward shuffle as he got inside the covers.

You curled around the cold metal arm as best as you could with restricted movement. You yawned again. “G’night, Jamie. Try to get some sleep. We’re safe here; nothing can hurt us in my dream. I’m so glad to have you in my arms. I missed you so much. So happy you’re real and here, even if it is a dream, Jamie.” Your words murmured. You rubbed your face into his cotton shirt. The pounding of his heart lulled you to sleep.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You thought you were dreaming! Did you dream of him often? It didn’t matter. He would ponder this new revelation later; now, he would focus on your soft, pliant body against him and tiredness overtaking him.

Bucky’s consciousness came to him in phases, each more forceful than the last, crashing into him in waves. The first sensation he became aware of was warmth. His body relaxed against it. It was familiar, as he had dreamt of it. The next thing he noticed was that the warmth was tangible, had a soft give to it— he could feel it. He rolled his neck against foreign pillows… His eyes flew open, muscles tensing slightly with alarm. 

Your soft sleeping body cocooned his left side. It enveloped his usually cold metal arm— which was at that moment the same temperature as your body. He so badly wanted to give in again. Burrow into your warm, soft skin. He barely had time to overthink it. His groggy mind almost reached consciousness before a soft murmur from your lips brought his thoughts to heel.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, s’early Jamie, sleep.” You didn’t seem to care about him not being a product of REM. You curled up tighter around him. Your smile bigger than last night, cheek pressed against his metal arm. And never had he felt any semblance of gratefulness toward Stark. But the new arm sent feedback to his brain. A weapon of destruction cradled and enveloped softly by your body. Somehow, you trusted him. He felt less like a weapon with no agency and more like a person. He liked touching you with his metal arm. He knew that it was tainted, but your touch made it pure. Bucky acknowledged that he would’ve never gotten you here with him without that still-wrecked floor. Unwanted tears prickled in his eyes. Would he ever live up to this forgiveness?

He didn’t want to think anymore, so he followed the laced command in your sweet, sleepy voice, urging him back to dreamland and succumbing to his dreams.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The air around the two of you shifted after the one-person intervention. And yes, of course, the team noticed, but they chose to say nothing. They were glad that Natasha had gone in to talk to him by herself. Although she never did retell what happened, it seemed to work. And while they liked to tease Bucky— some billionaire philanthropists more than others— they were happy for him; he seemed a little calmer than before. Settled into himself. 

While he never directly came out and touched you in front of them. He started orbiting you blatantly. Taking a seat next to you during the rare shared meals. Glaring at anyone who dared take his spot next to you on the couch. Walking into a room and making his way to you. 

Two particular instances engraved themselves into the team members' minds who were lucky enough to behold it. 

The first event took place in the morning. It started like any other. You chit-chatted with Steve and Nat as you made two breakfast bagels. They might’ve thought you had woken up hungry that day were it not for the two cups of coffee you set in front of the plate holding the two halved bagels.

Tony tinkered with a toaster in the background, his eyes looking up slowly when Bucky walked in, fingers not stopping their ministrations on the machinery. 

And the team had been so wrong. Yes, Bucky had a strong disposition, but the way he always stared at you so intently was. It should have been obvious. It was like their eyes opened after the mission had gone wrong.  The man was so obviously besotted with you. 

It couldn’t be clearer as the usual dark storm cloud over him dissolved when his eyes found you. He strode toward you with one track mind. 

You spoke to him before your gaze found his as if sensing his presence. “Hey there, I just made you my favorite breakfast. Grab our plate. Here’s your coffee. Dark and joyless like you.” You turned to look at him with barely veiled glee.

Steve’s brows furrowed slightly, concerned. He used to make those kinds of jokes with his Bucky, but he didn’t know how this Bucky would react.

Tony’s eyes furrowed with concern—

Bucky huffed and pursed his lips. But his eyes. They were accustomed to his eyes being perpetually set in a glare. 

His gaze was soft, voice softer, “Doll… You know me so well.”

Your grin was dazzling, and you were the only one who missed the way his stare lingered a bit too long on your lips.

DOLL??? Oh, you guys were clearly fucking. Natasha smiled, amused, and raised an eyebrow at Steve. 

Steve gaped at Bucky, lost and forlorn. He had spent so long tiptoeing around the man who used to be his best friend. 

Bucky didn’t seem to care that there were other people in the kitchen; the man who didn’t show up for breakfast was long gone. You curled your fingers around the handle of the two coffee cups, concluding the chit-chat. He grabbed the plate with his metal fingers. Then, so slyly as if with half a mind, he reached out his right arm toward you, near your hips. His fingers slid inside the loop of your jeans and yanked you toward him.

You let out a surprised yelp and laughed. “Jamie! Careful. The coffee will spill!” You didn’t seem the least put off by his actions. 

They had no clue when it started, but somehow, in a few months, you had gotten through the broken and hurting Winter Soldier and got to Jamie. 

Jamie. Bucky never let Steve call him that. It was bittersweet. Your chattering voice faded as he dragged you out of the kitchen. It was then that he came to a conclusion. Bucky was a different man, and he wanted to get to know this version of him.

And they felt guilty. They had given a half-ass try to get to him, put off by his glower. You weren’t perturbed by his grumpiness or his mood swings. Letting him be silent whenever he got too in his head. Chatting to him about whatever until you eventually drew out a small smile perceptible in his usually clouded expression.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You had found yourself in the proud position of Bucky’s friend, closest and best — you did sleep in the same bed—yet you still felt like screaming in frustration. It wasn’t enough. You weren’t unhappy per se. You had him in your arms every night…Your cheek pressed against his warm, sturdy chest. The only thing between keeping your skin from his was a thin, flimsy shirt. And maybe it was wrong for you to, but you longed for more, to touch without restraint. Had feelings with more-than-friends connotations. Not that you had many real friends before you were recruited here. So, while you knew there was a difference between platonic and romantic love. You tried fooling yourself into thinking it was platonic. But you wouldn’t go and kill around 15 people for just about anyone, and it hurt. You wanted him to see you the same way you did him. Rare nights were you holding him instead of the more common inverse. 

You’d scrape your fingernails softly through his scalp. Hope would make your heart full, inflating it with every hum of pleasure he let out in his sleep. But then he’d wake up shy and closed off, cheeks red with what you perceived as embarrassment and your heart would collapse once again, hope seeping out and leaving acid in its wake.

But he’d do certain things that would make your heart race, exhilarated and frustrated, leaving you reeling and confused.

Your feelings grew despite your protests, so you kept them locked in nice and tight, hidden even from yourself, for as long as possible. 

You were full to the brim with tension, and one particular instance made you lose it, the container breaking with pressure and spilling all over the place. 

It went like so. It was early afternoon, and sunlight spilled from the high windows of the tower, casting a warm glow on the room. 

Natasha was telling you about these two guys; they invited her and you to a double date. You were certain in your decision not to go. The man you’d be paired up with was the same one who frequented the bar with the team; he had brown eyes and a sleazy smile. Nothing like your Jamie.

You were doubling down on your decision when he walked in.

“Hello, Doll, Nat.” His greeting was gruff, but a few months ago, you would’ve thought him possessed.

Natasha’s eyes glinted with mischief and calculation. She gave you a feral grin before turning around, her expression slipping easily into neutrality. “Bucky, it’s so good that you’re here. You can help me convince her to go out with me.”

Jamie cocked his head, expression unreadable. “Sounds fun, Doll; you need a girl’s night.”

This was it! The perfect opportunity to gauge his reaction to you going out with someone else! “It’s a double date with the guys from communication.” You deliberately omitted the part where you didn’t want to go, wanting to push a grand reaction. —It never came.

You saw his full body tense for a moment, and for a second, your heart soared… only to crash instantly when he gave you a terse smile. His voice was disappointingly steady, “Why don’t you want to go?”

You knew your body was overreacting, knew you were blowing it out of proportion, but your heart shriveled nonetheless. You tried still, but you couldn’t swallow down the frustration. Try as you did. “I like my men a little bit older…” Your mouth answered for you, giving him a cheeky grin. 

He turned his full attention toward you, and your body viscerally recoiled from the look in his eyes. An angry and resentful glint in his eyes. So familiar—how he used to stare at you before the first meeting at two a.m.

“You should go.” His words were final, a command. 

You didn’t understand, and you almost sobbed then. You prided yourself in being able to count the number of times you had cried on one hand. A chasm was growing between you, distance expanding with every word. He didn’t want you that way. Pinche ilusa! How could he ever want you that way? You snarled instead of crying, “Alright, I will, but don’t expect me here at two in the morning.”

His smile was bitter and mean. “I won’t.” 

Your returning smile was filled with spite. Anger bubbling in your throat, you saw red. “Pinche pendejo, deveras.”  (Such a fucking prick) It hurt to smile. You didn’t even want to think about the last time you used your Spanish. But his hardened eyes and clenched jaw brought out your most impulsive sides. 

Beside you, Nat and Bucky tensed. You lifted your downward gaze toward them. Their heads were cocked to the side, assessing… You’d never slipped into your native tongue.

You took a deep breath before speaking, “I’m going to get ready, Nat! See you at eight!” Smiled at them both before prancing to the elevator, assuming a mask of joy, heart sunken in.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The elevator doors closed in front of you, taking you from him. The Winter Soldier’s gaze lingered on the spot where you’d disappeared, his eyes burning with a mix of longing and frustration before snapping toward his adversary.

The soldier was full of rage. Flowers had bloomed through the cracks in his stone heart only to wilt because of her.

The redheaded sensed the obvious danger and spoke in a language the soldier didn’t understand. He understood her disappointment with him, which displeased the soldier.

“говорить демон.” The soldier growled, beckoning the demon to speak, try to save herself. 

She had been a friend…The redheaded demon responded in his language. “You were taking too long, and I couldn’t take any more of her sulking… So speak up or forever hold your peace, soldier. You don’t get to wallow in self-pity and watch life passing you by, cursing time for moving on and not standing still. You can’t unwind the clock, soldier. You can only go forward… So decide carefully before it’s too late.”

Bucky couldn’t breathe, bereft of oxygen. What had he done? Had the soldier really come back because of you? The threat of losing you?

He somehow found himself in his room. He didn’t quite remember how he got there. His brain was a haze of frustration and defeat.

His room felt wrong, empty, and cold. He didn’t even approach his bed, knowing how that whole schtick would go. So Bucky paced and paced, his mind running around in circles. 

And what was that whole thing about liking older men? How was he supposed to take it? 

He knew he had fucked up. But he wasn’t about to go crash your date… So he went to his training room. Came back to the land of the living hours later, an unknown familiar face framed by gold hair staring down at him. Warmth pressed against his mouth, and he drank greedily.

“… can’t keep hurting yourself like this, Buck.”

Bucky groaned in response and in acknowledgment. Looked at his friend’s concerned eyes. His chest ached with nostalgia, love, regret… everything. “That’s my line, punk.” His voice came out unsteady.

The ground moved underneath him, yanked by his metal arm toward Steve into a tight hug. Bucky’s arms hovered uncertainly for a moment, and he could feel Steve’s large body shake against him. So he hugged his friend back. He had been neglecting Steve.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, Stevie, it’s alright.” His voice was fond. He was yanked once again. Twin grips on his shoulders shook him with more force than merited. 

“No, you stupid idiot! It’s not alright…” Steve looked like he wanted to say more for a moment, but he knew how Bucky was, so he kept in his spiel and sighed dramatically. “Come on, get some food in your poor body.”

Steve tried to help Bucky walk, which ended up with Captain America being whacked upside down. The blonde turned to Bucky with a fake offense, instead deciding to drag him to the kitchen by force. Oh, how things changed…

Steve had changed…he managed to beat Bucky in a stare-down. Even in his forties after the serum,   that only happened once in a blue moon. So Bucky found himself eating a sandwich and a big glass of electrolytes with resentment. His leg bounced with vigor. 

He kept his eyes on his plate, avoiding Steve’s too-observant eyes, eyes that had known him since childhood.

As soon as the last bite had been swallowed, Bucky looked up. Only to regret it instantly. Steve had a resolved expression. A glint in his eyes that told him to run. So he did. He was not ready for whatever conversation he wanted to have.

“Where’s Banner?” He pushed off the table in a harsh, sudden movement.

Steve’s face fell, confused and hurt. “Huh?”

“I need a cigarette.”

He got furrowed brows and a cocked head in response.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

A few blocks away, your leg bounced anxiously. Unbeknownst to you, mirroring the person who caused your stress.

You sat across from Nat, your date an uncomfortable breath away.  The tension between you was palpable as you struggled to make small talk with him. Thigh pressed to bouncing thigh. You wanted to turn pleading eyes to Nat. And for what? You had come here out of your own volition. Fuck. You needed a smoke. You tried to convince yourself you wanted to be here. If he didn’t want you, you deserved someone who did.

A meaty hand slid against your bare skin. Ala mierda… Yeah, no… Abort.

“Calm down, baby… you are all… amped up… how about we go outside and—”

“That’s a good idea.” 

You got a sleazy grin and a flash of eerily perfect teeth. His were charmingly imperfect; he wouldn’t call you baby. He would call you doll….

“I am going outside by myself. I need a smoke. Besides— I left my lighter at home.”

“I-”

“No, thank you. Sorry, Nat.” You flashed your not-so-sorry gaze toward her. 

She was amused. “Go! by all means. I’ll get the check.” She moved her hand, shooing you off.

A grip on your arm stopped you. “Don’t tell me it’s because of that creepy guy with murder in his eyes.”

You shivered, giddy with pleasure. It was too obvious of a response for it to fly over your date’s head.

“It is! He stares at you like you hurt him. Like he wants to tie you up in his bed and never let you leave!”

Your wicked grin was enough for him to let you go with a huff of disgust. You didn’t care, kissing Nat’s cheek. “Goodbye, you evil woman.” 

She spanked your ass, sending you off. You turned one last time toward her, grinning. Your smiles reflect glee and mirth.

You walked around the city for a while. Savoring being able to do so without recrimination. 

You weren’t delusional; you should’ve known better. Yet you were so blinded by self-doubt that you closed your eyes.

Bucky wasn’t loud with his emotions, ever. He swallowed them whole, drowned in them. He was too prideful and scared of being hurt, even if he wanted you. Countless sleepless nights and nights where it was avoided deliberately to see each other told of a man who was interested in you in some capacity.

You weren’t dumb. You just chose to ignore the evidence. Turning a blind eye to the staggering difference in how he spoke to you versus anyone else. He gave you preferential treatment. You cuddled every night for fucks sake! And you doubted that he cared for you? He couldn’t sleep without you, and vice versa! 

You checked your phone. 2:03 A.M. What were you stalling for? 

You smiled all the way back to the tower.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The third time the elevator doors pinged, Bucky’s hope had worn out. Expecting Steve or Natasha. The latter had come from the double date alone. “I told you to leave me alone to— what had you called it?— wallow in self-pity and the consequences of my actions or whatever.” He raised a shaking hand, knuckles cracked and bleeding— he was embarrassed to admit he had succumbed to his baser needs and punched a wall out of frustration— taking a drag of a cigarette. It tasted radioactive… but it smelled like you. He coughed softly.

An achingly familiar laugh startled him from his stupor. He swerved around with wide eyes. A kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar… “What are you doing here? If you’re here to tell me about — I don’t want to hear it.” He grumbled. Yes, you were friends, but he really, really didn’t want to hear about you sleeping or even breathing in near another man. He took another drag of your cigarette. Filled his lungs with smoke, his blood with chemicals. Okay, yes. He got it now.

“You big, stupid man.” The candor of your voice dripped with irritation. You stomped toward him, heels clacking against the floor, and snatched the smoke from him in harsh movements.

He grunted in response, out of his depth, and turned his gaze toward the skyline. He was aware of your every movement. You took two drags and stomped a perfectly good half of a cigarette with your heel.

He turned to glare at you, giving you a once-over. Fucking helllll….. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Bucky needed to dump cold water on himself ASAP. He was reminded of the many, many long showers he had jerked off in before joining you in bed. They were always futile, super soldier refractory period, and your soft skin, and— you were wearing a mini skirt and a top that accentuated your tits. Bucky mentally clutched his 100-year-old pearls. His breath hitched. Eyes catching on thighs— THIGHS. And boobs—BOOBS!Before meeting your pleased predatory gaze. 

You took one step toward him. He took one step back.

“I’m going to ask you something. Please answer me honestly— Why don’t you want to hear about my date?”

“Why are you here and not with your date?” he ground out his non-answer.

“Why are your knuckles bleeding? Why are you smoking my cigarette?”

“Why are you here and not with your date?” He repeated, body tense, ready to pounce, touch, taste. You looked so beautiful. The soft night lights illuminate your tinted lips and glittery eyelids, bringing the color out of your iris.

“Well, I found myself seated next to him and thinking: Jamie wouldn’t say that— but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t you.”

When you advanced toward him this time, his feet stayed planted. You took your time advancing toward him. And you were taller now, easier to reach with those long heels. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed up against him.

His arousal grew to unavoidable levels. Pushing against your hip. “Fuck, doll. You can’t— I’m wrong for you, all messed up and angry. And from the forties…” His fingers clenched and unclenched on his sides. He was lacking in excuses to touch you. His limbs itched to hold you. Dig into you.

“Well, I hate to repeat myself, but I see I have to. I’ve told you I like my men a little bit older… And maybe I’m a bit messed up, too. Because seeing you all fucked up and angry…. Well, I wasn’t upset.”

“I can’t sleep without you. I dream of you, I—”

You smiled with glee, “I know; Natasha was all too pleased to explain to me the mechanics of ‘morning wood.’”

Bucky groaned in response. Letting his hands, metal and otherwise, slide against your hips. It was nothing like cuddling; his intentions were impure. They had always been, but he had not felt any past guilt over his arousal. Unashamed in his guilt, he felt no need to neglect his urges — unless you told him otherwise.

He could tell you had some snarky response in the makings. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that cocky grin off your face. You were gravely mistaken if you thought he would be taking the subservient route. At least right now, he needed to be in control, and you needed to trust him. Needed you. 

Your eyes glinted with snark, your mouth opening to tease. His hand coasted up your back to your nape, his fingers gliding into your hair to pull you toward him. Your eyes widened in surprise, pupils blown out. Good, you thought too much; he needed to make your brain shut up.

He held his breath as he leaned in, humming with satisfaction once your lips pressed against his. Your lips, so soft against his. He needed more. He gripped your hip, conscious of the strength in his metal arm. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, but he did want to leave a mark. You gasped in pleasure. Your hands yanked on his hair, and he groaned against your lips.

He set his sights on a wall three paces away, pushing against you. So malleable under him, succumbing so easily to his ministrations, like putty under his hands. His blood sang with the escalating volume of your noises. With each step he took forward, you met with a step back. You gasped as your back met the wall.

“Jamie... please,” your voice was so whiny, so desperate, it made his cock hurt with arousal. Blood rushed in his ears; he needed more, needed you begging. Undone.

He yanked on the base of your hair with one hand, exposing your neck for him. He was oh so happy to kiss and lick your skin. You whined and shifted against him... sensitive. His other hand slid down your skirt until it met your skin. Groaning against your neck, he slid his hand up, finally reaching your perfect ass. He couldn’t feel any underwear... Fuck... he might’ve been from the forties, but he had internet access, and he could call a spade a spade, or in this case, a thong a thong. He yanked on the flimsy thing so it snapped back against your skin.

You whimpered and panted, eyes closed in bliss. He could feel your hips shift as if chasing after stimulation. And who was he to deny you?

He placed both hands just below your ass, lifting you up and pulling them apart, a silent command you gladly followed with a whine and a curse word in Spanish.

You locked your legs around his waist; his erection pressed against your warmth, and his soft cotton pants were doing nothing to help his desperation. He gave up on holding himself back when your lips met his once again, your hips jerking against him.

It was the best thing he had ever felt since... ever. His fingers spread on either side of your ass, your back supported by the wall. He was beyond words, and so were you.

His cotton pants were soaked with your arousal, hiding nothing. He could feel everything: your pussy open for his cock to grind on, and your underwear had twisted to the side. He lost all ability to think, his conscious motor skills deciding to go offline, the only movement he could do was jerking his hips. His lips opened to pant like a dog. It was your turn to kiss him, sloppy and uncoordinated, as he ground against you.

He had half a mind to be aware of his strength, but each time he tested the waters, pressing harder against you, you moaned louder. So it wasn’t long before he realized you could take all of him.

His body trembled with built-up tension. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced. His hands flexed and tightened on your ass, pressing you harder against him, making the friction so much sweeter. He chased the pleasure with a one-track mind, couldn’t think of anything but your scent, skin, taste – for years, he had felt numb, and you brought him back to life. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to feel such exquisite pleasure; it was you who had his hips jerking, dry humping like teenagers. He didn’t care.

Your fingers clawed at his back, nails scratching his skin; you had long ago stopped kissing him, opting instead for panting against his neck.

Pleasure built and built, mind-numbing. You were saying something... begging for him... He threw his head back and groaned as his pleasure crested, stars exploding behind his eyes; he couldn’t see...

His hips jerked with aftershocks, breaths harsh against your neck; his pants were soiled with his come and your arousal. Your legs slackened, dropping to the floor. Most of your body weight rested on the wall, the rest supported by his hands. He had two functioning brain cells, both reminding him of his selfishness.

You didn’t look displeased with him; your skirt was bunched up at the hips, and your top in disarray. Your eye makeup was a mess, and he loved that. Your panties were slid to the far side, showing off your glistening cunt.

His knees hit the floor before he even realized what he was doing. He felt your thighs shake against his skin as he leaned in to look closer. Your clit was swollen and dark. He leaned in to kiss, to suck. Fingers pressed against his face, pushing him away.

“S’ too sensitive,” your voice wavered.

Bucky furrowed his brows, looking up inquisitively at you.

“Came. Twice,” you clarified, tone shaky with satisfaction.  Your gaze followed his movements as he stood up to cradle your face, tilting your head to kiss you softly. He sucked on your teeth before stopping the kiss.

“Huh, didn’t notice. You felt too good. I went crazy. Too bad, though, I want to feel you come on my face and on my cock.”

You smiled, satisfied, a cat who finally got the cream. “Sure, later,” you muttered against him.

“Whenever you want, doll face,” he smiled down at you. You looked fucked all the way to next week, and he hadn’t even dicked you down yet. “Come on, let’s get cleaned up.”

You hummed, wrapping your arms around him in a silent request; he obliged happily, carrying you bridal-style to his room.

── ࣪˖  ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

Jamie was so soft, so careful with you. Your head was hazy with the aftermath of pleasure. No orgasm in your past could hold a flame to the explosive bliss from the earlier encounter.

Your head was hazy as he led you to his bathroom, your mind too fucked out for processing his room. You complied with whichever way he tugged your limbs, sliding off your rumpled clothes until the only thing on your body were your high heels.

He knelt in front of you, his touch tender as if apologizing for moments ago when he ground on you without thought. His cool metal fingers skated up your calf, reaching up to support your knee as his other hand worked on the latch of your heels. He pressed a kiss to each ankle before standing up in front of you.

You blinked slowly, your eyes trained on him. He was still clothed. Why was he still clothed? Your gaze caught on the wet patch on his pants, outlining his half-hard dick. Praise super-soldier metabolism.

You planted your feet on the white marble floor, your arms stretching toward him, fingers curling into his shirt and yanking. “Off.”

He grinned softly – you would never, ever get enough of his smiles – before sliding his shirt off in one swift movement.

Your breath caught in your throat—fuck, he was beautiful.

“Beautiful Jamie,” you said, taking a step closer. You slid one hand up his chest, using the other to trace fingers along scar tissue. He was so… captivating, so utterly himself, that you felt like you were the only person in the world who got to see him like this. “Only for me, only I get to see you like this.” You turned to throw him a challenging glare.

“Doll, I wouldn’t have it any other way, and I don’t share either. Call me old-fashioned –”

“If I see you with another woman, James, I swear to God, I will break my killing streak. And all three of us will end up in a –” Rage had barely simmered from the image before he had yanked on your hips to pull you into another kiss.

“Easy there, Doll, there’s no one else,” his voice was so satisfied, an assured tinge to his candor, in a way you knew it only got for you. You were so fucking stupid for not noticing.

“Good,” you yanked on his pants. “So... super-soldier dick... how long can you go? I bet we can get Jamie Junior tired.”

He laughed loudly, the sound enough for you to shiver with pleasure. “Doll, I don’t think you could keep up with me; you’d pass out. You don’t understand how long I can go if it’s with you.”

“Well, surely you can keep count if I’m passed out... set a record.”

His laugh was disbelieving. “I don’t want to fuck you when you’re unconscious; I want you awake and making those sweet, delicious sounds.”

“Another time, then – take off your pants.”

“As you wish.”

You tried, you really did, to focus on cleaning yourself once you’d gotten inside the shower. But you didn’t fight the urge to slide your fingers into his scalp and help him wash his hair. Forcing him into a crouch to aid your reach and resting his face on your shoulder.

His touch was gentle, a silent decision to wash each other. He went first. You pressed your fingers, massaging the soap against his skin, fingers traveling lower, your eyes fixed on his cock. He was beautiful. Your fingers reached his hips; he was fully hard at that point, leaking. You couldn’t stop yourself; you had planned on teasing him, but his cock was too pretty, red and wet with pre-come. Your soap-slicked hands circled his cock... and damn, the groan that fell from his lips was unlike anything – the groans before had been rough, taking. This one was desperate, needing.

You took him in both hands, dragging your thumb against his leaking tip. He threw his head back and groaned, fingers digging into the skating over your waist.

You dragged your touch up and down his length, your eyes studying his every movement: his clenched jaw and tightened face. He was holding his sounds back; that wouldn’t do. You tightened your grip and fastened your pace – only to have his tight grip on your wrist halt your movements. His gaze was heavy on yours. “The next time I’m coming, I’m doing it inside you.”

Tension filled the air as he had his turn and took his time cleaning you. He was so clinical it was driving you insane. But you could tell he was restraining himself. His movements rushed; he had an end goal in mind.

You dried off quickly, and showering would prove futile with what you had in mind. The night was young; it was barely 3 A.M.

The anticipation was thick in each deep breath you took. As soon as you had crossed the doorway to his bedroom, you couldn’t restrain yourself. You turned toward him, but he beat you to the first move, yanking on your arm and throwing you over his shoulder; you laughed as he spanked your ass.

Your body was airborne the next moment before your back bounced softly on his bed.

You leaned on your shoulders, breasts heaving with each breath, thighs open.

“Do you know how much I’ve wanted you, how long... I thought I was going to go crazy with how much I needed you,” he said, crawling on top of you. Kissing you once chastely, your breath hitching. You were out of your depth; this was a completely new situation, and you loved every second. His featherlight kisses peppered over your jaw, below your ear, along your neck – your body twisted and turned – over your collarbone, down... “You’re so beautiful, doll— I had to restrain myself. You deserve worship.” His gruff voice was all the warning you got before he latched on to a nipple and sucked, cool metal fingers rolling your neglected nipple between his fingers, awakening erogenous zones that made their debut with a bang.

“Ala puta, mierda..." This bliss was unlike anything. Your hips jerked, your cunt pounded with need. Warm fingers slid your pussy open, circling your clit. You could feel every nerve sing with pleasure. Your toes curled, the balls of your feet pressing down against the bed.

He slid one finger into your cunt, and your whole body jerked in response. “Ala madre – ala madreeee!" Your head lolled, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You couldn’t form coherent thought; your brain decided to go offline.

Pleasure built and built, still sensitive from the past two orgasms. Just when you found yourself at the precipice, you were left bereft of pleasure, cut off from his touch. You looked at him with betrayal.

“No need for that, Dollface— you’ll come soon. I want it to be on my cock— give me a second I’m going to get a condo –”

“NO!” You wanted to feel him, and you wanted him inside you now.

“All right, Doll, and while I would love to put a baby inside you, I’m not sure I’m ready to share you yet –”

“I’m on birth control! I’m clean; I haven’t – in years.” Your voice was desperate. He smiled slowly at the neediness in your tone.

He shut you up with a kiss, fingers digging into the soft of your thighs, holding you open for him.

You felt yourself lose clarity, tears streaming down your face. You needed his cock inside you now.

You didn’t have to wait long; soon enough, he pressed his tip inside you. He was big... You babbled and pleaded for more to no avail. His fingers traced your skin, grounding you, as he slid in inch by delicious inch until he was fully sheathed. Your body writhed under him with pleasure. It was a tight fit, bordering on a little bit painful. The slight pinch only made the feelings more heightened as your cunt pulsed around him.

You tried to beg him to “move,” but none of the languages in your repertoire seemed to be available. So you were left a whining mess. He got the message. Felt his cock slide out of you only to slam into you so hard you saw stars. You could feel the exact moment he lost control and went feral and pussy-drunk. His thrusts were severe and hard, thrusting himself until your pelvises slammed together, the sound of your skin meeting his echoing through the room.

You were crying out, nails searching for pleasure on his back.

It didn’t take long for your pleasure to peak; it ebbed and rose in waves. You weren’t sure where your orgasm ended, and another one began. Had started to come down only to have him pinch your clit and –

It was so good; you took everything he gave you greedily, you had been fulfilled a while ago, and your needs were met ages ago. You were there for him to fuck however many times he wanted—  drenched with your arousal and his come. His hips would stutter, and you’d feel a rush of his come, warm and drenching you. He’d slow down for a few moments, making you think it was over, hips sputtering softly inside you. He’d kiss your skin softly in apology and harden inside you again.

He made good on his promise. Once you were close to passing out, he stopped.

Your full body shook as he cleaned you with warm towels, your mind unresponsive as he moved your limbs softly to slide on one of his hoodies and boxer briefs.

You were halfway to dreamland when he wrapped his arms around you, the room reeking of sex.

“… doll... Mine... Love... Love you...” His voice was soft and barely processed as you fell asleep in his arms.

Did process enough for you to reply a sleepy, “Love you more.”

Please remember to leave your kind thoughts in the comments (they fuel me), and if you enjoyed support with reblogs, ok thanks for reading love ya hope you enjoyed 🫶🏻!!!!

[idkandidc423]

DC x DP

They were gone. Gone. It didn't feel real. How could it? His parents were dead; they were killed by their own invention. How ironic! He could hear Sam saying "what goes around comes around" in her snarky tone. He knows that he should be grieving. But he doesn't feel sad, just numb. Some of Jazz's lectures on shock echo in his head.

Shit! He has to tell Jazz. She is should be in class right now and he knows midterms are next week. She doesn't need to be-

"Phantom?"

Right, he was in the middle of a Justice League debrief when he got the text.

Batman requires him to debrief after he completes a time mission for Clockwork. Something about how is a new member and is inexperienced. Which feels uncalled for since he dealt with world ending events for a whole year before joining the league at 15. And he has been working with the league for two years now. Sure he isn't an adult yet but he has been taking care of himself for as long as he can remember. Much to the chagrin of Jazz. The only thing he needs from his parents now is-

"Phantom!"

"How do you emancipation yourself?"

"What?"

"Would my sister have to know? How am I going to pay the mortgage? Do I get a salary for helping the Justice League? Will I have-"

"Phantom!!"

Danny's eyes snapped up to Batman's glaring. He was just getting in the grove for a good spiral. Belatedly he realized everyone was staring at him with varying forms of confusion and sadness.

"Phantom..." OH no that's Wonder Woman's I have something to tell you that your not going to like but you need to hear it. "Your dead... as far as I am aware, ghosts don't have to pay a mortgage nor do they need to be emancipated."

Jumping up and looking around Danny cheered "OH I forgot to tell you guys! I am not completely dead. I am dead but not completely. I am also not completely alive either. It's confusing in general... I am what's known as a halfa. We are an embodiment of the veil itself, both alive and dead."

Judging by the shocked looks from everyone assembled, Danny did a shitty job of explaining again. Unfortunately for them, Danny has had this conversation one too many times and doesn't want to have it again. So, he decides to bulldoze through any attempts to ask questions and continues.

"Anyways, I do need to be emancipated since my parents just died and I am a minor. There is no way my sister can take me in. She just started her second year of college and-"

"Your a minor!"

"Your alive!"

"Your parents died..."

"I could adopt you."

Snapping his head back to Batman and using the most feed up tone he can muster, he drawls "I have been an orphan for all of 5 mins. You need psychiatric help ASAP."

[moonstruckme]

Thawing Out

summary: You and Sirius are in dire need of a new coach just weeks before the Olympics. Remus is a former figure skating prodigy forced to retire after a career-ending injury. Though it's not smooth skating right away, those stiff Olympic village beds are dying to be broken in.

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14 | part 15 | part 16

cw: modern au, chronic pain

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus still wakes before dark every morning. It’s automatic, an urgency and excitement that thrums through him like an old instinct, born from years of his alarm clock rousing him at this time. The rink is always at its best right now, when they’ve just finished resurfacing the ice and no one else is around. It was Remus’ favorite time to practice. 

Now, he has a new reason to get up. His hip clicks as he does it, so he starts his day with a couple of proactive painkillers. If he really wanted to be proactive he would stretch like he’s supposed to, but there’s no time and Remus doesn’t feel like it. He’ll pay his toll for the negligence later. 

The webpage of his Airbnb boasted a five-minute walk to the rink, but with his hip it takes Remus seven. It’s like an odd sort of muscle memory, an old routine from another life that feels as bitter as it does comfortable. He heads out early to give himself some cushion. The streets are empty but for bakers and baristas, the first hints of dawn tinging the sky a deep blue. When he turns a corner and the rink comes into view, the absence of his bag hanging from his shoulder is a phantom ache. 

The front doors are locked but the side one staff uses isn’t, the Zamboni driver already inside. Remus lets himself in, makes a cup of tea from the hot water dispenser they leave out when concessions are closed, plants himself on a bench, and waits. 

And waits. 

And waits. 

Remus has nearly nodded off when two pairs of shoes come bounding up to him. Well, one pair bounds. The other drags. 

“Hi, sorry we’re late.” You’re breathless and hauling a sullen-looking boy along behind you by the hand, but you manage a smile when Remus looks up at you. “I had to run over and get him out of bed. It’s good to meet you!”

You hold out your untethered hand. Remus might normally stand to take it, but he no longer feels like doing you the courtesy. Your grip is firm and warm. 

“You were supposed to be here at six,” he says. 

You wince. “I know. Sorry, Sirius is really not a morning person.” 

Remus thinks that he might put more stock into your apologies if you looked a tad more contrite. As it is, your countenance is almost cheery, a fizzy eagerness about you as you look between him and the ice like you can’t wait to get out on it. 

In stark contrast, the ill-tempered boy behind you seems not to have a clue where he is. He looks rumpled and disoriented, squinting in the rink’s fluorescent light. 

“Then why didn’t you pick another time?” Remus asks. 

He hadn’t realized he was still looking at Sirius, or that the other boy could talk, so it’s a surprise when he answers. “Wasn’t my bloody idea.” 

By the way you grin, Remus wonders if you’ve even heard the obvious bitterness in your partner’s tone, or whether it’s gone straight over your head. 

“I like the rink better early,” you explain. “No one else ever comes before the hockey practice starts at nine, and they’ll have just finished resurfacing the ice.” 

Begrudgingly, Remus nods. “I always preferred it about now, too.” 

He realizes immediately that his agreement was a mistake, because your smile grows into something far too brilliant for the early hour. Christ, what has he gotten himself into? There’s you, starry-eyed and effervescing all over the place, and your partner, who looks more inclined to fall asleep on your shoulder than put on his skates. 

And this is the pair skating duo Remus is supposed to take to the Olympics. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Watch that back foot!” Remus shouts across the ice.

Sirius doesn’t look happy about it, but he corrects the placement of his skate, transitioning smoothly into the next synced turn. 

“Good,” Remus murmurs to himself. 

Once Sirius got out on the ice and woke up a bit, he was good. He skates with the technical proficiency of someone who’s been in the sport since before they started primary school, and the intuitive artistry of someone who loves it. You’re much the same, though your virtuosity and obvious competence are consistently undercut by hesitation, the grace of your movements interrupted when you second-guess yourself. But these—technical prowess paired with devotion—are the basics of what makes a good figure skater. You’ll have to be flawless if you want to do well at the Olympics. 

And Remus has found many flaws. 

“No, no—shit!” Remus stands as you fall out of your jump again, catching yourself on your forearms. “You’re still under-rotating! Come on!” 

Sirius snarls a quick “Hey!” over his shoulder before turning his back on Remus, going to help you up. He speaks to you quietly, checking you over as you stand. Remus seethes. 

He has no clue why he’s been called out here to coach a pair. Remus doesn’t know pairs, has never been a part of one. He was a solo skater. And frankly, it makes him wary that what’s supposed to be the best skating pair in Britain has asked him, a former solo skater who’s been isolated from the figure skating community in general for the past two years, to coach them. But Remus does know figure skating. And he knows when skaters are making stupid mistakes behind their skill level. 

“What aren’t you understanding?” asks Remus as you skate back to the edge of the rink. He really wants to know. “It’s simple. You can do this.” He knows he could have. As easy as breathing, and he would kill to have the chance again. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” 

Sirius’ glare is sharp as knives. He steps off the ice before you can, positioning himself between you and Remus. Your lips purse with a knowing sort of apprehension. 

“Sirius…” 

“No, you don’t talk to her like that,” Sirius spits. “It was a tiny mistake.” 

Remus raises his eyebrows, incredulous. “I’m trying to help her! It was a giant mistake, with a simple fix. You ought to be telling her the same, unless you’re okay with your partner snapping her ankle weeks out from competition.” 

“None of that means you get to fucking yell at her! Who do you think you are?” 

“Okay—” 

“I’m her coach,” says Remus, voice rising, “and—”

“Then coach her! Maybe if you’d give some actual fucking feedback instead of just nitpicking—” 

“Okay!” Your shout cuts through the space, echoing in the empty rink and silencing the other two. “That’s enough.” 

You haul Sirius back by his shoulder. Your grip doesn’t look severe enough to move him, but he goes, stepping back to your side. His eyes never leave Remus’. 

Your own gaze jumps between both boys, that same spark he’d seen in you earlier burning with a different light. 

“Let’s call it for today,” you say firmly. “Okay? We’ll try again tomorrow.” 

Neither boy speaks, though Remus nods. It seems to be taking all of Sirius’ willpower to bite his tongue. He gets the impression it isn’t something he succeeds at often, so Remus isn’t ashamed to say that it brings him a perverse sort of joy to see it now. His tiny bit of smugness fizzles out, though, when your eyes land on him. There’s something desolate in your expression that’s a salient deviation from how you’d looked at him before. Remus has the sinking feeling that he’s disappointed you. It’s more distressing than he can account for. 

“We’ll be here on time tomorrow,” you say in that same steady tone. “And my jump, I’ll work on it.” 

Remus nods again. You return it, and when you turn to leave, you drag Sirius after you by his shirtsleeve, picking up your bags along your way. Remus’ mouth feels dry. His lips are chapped, his fingertips hurt from the cold, and the sight of your skates sinking into the rubbery floor makes his hip ache terribly. 

It’s only once you’re nearly out of earshot that he manages to mumble, “Thank you.”

[thebubblesareevil]

Who’s the bad guy here, really?

(This is pretty rushed, but I completely forgot about this and didn't want to abandon it. Hope you like it)

Danny was tired.

It had been 3 months since he ran away from home and joined the league…well technically he joined the JR league. Apparently, once the league realized he was actually a 15 year old, they decided that MAYBE they shouldn't have him fighting Bizarro on his own.

Danny didn’t get it, but they got him enrolled in school and made sure he wouldn’t miss too many classes so that was a bonus.

That was about a month ago and Danny was certain the main team was mad at him for lying about being a half ghost. He thought he made some real friends before they moved him to the Jr squad, but no one was answering him.

Any hero that DID answer him always gave the same excuse.

“I’m sorry Danny, I’d love to hang out but we have to deal with this new villain duo!”

What’s worse is that any enquiry about the so-called villains was greeted with nervous glances and swift retreats.

(Danny was sure there were no new villain, the team would have heard about them by now)

The team did their best to cheer him after every evasion, but it really wasn't helping.

He did this to himself, but that was fine. His family was safe and that's all that mattered.

Three months ago, the GIW launched an all out war against phantom in amity park. Anyone that was suspected of having anything to do with ghosts was taken in for questioning and wouldn't come back for days. They even started to get aggressive towards his parents after they started advocating for Phantom.

So Danny did the only thing he could.

He left, as publicly as possible, Danny ran away from the only home he had ever known to protect his family.

And now his friends had ditched him because he lied.

Danny felt like shit.

---------

"This is the third attack on a League base in 2 weeks." Batman said sternly to the heroes surrounding the table. He pressed a button.

A holograph appeared over the table depicting 2 Villains carrying large weapons, destroying everything in their wake. The 2 were incredibly resilient. The larger of the two was taking hits from wildcat and the smaller tossed canary across the room, completely ignoring her screams.

Both had been stationed at the outpost to guard against these exact 2 villains, and both were still recovering.

Their threat level was raised, now it was their turn to step in.

-------

Danny dragged himself out of bed as he got up early for training. He heard a knock at the door.

"Come in." He shouted as he put on his shirt.

Conner walked in, scowling as he saw some of the scars littering Danny's chest.

"You ready? We're training with Batman today."

Danny scoffed. "Ready? No. No one's ready for Batman, I am excited though.

The two headed towards the dining room to eat before training when suddenly the alarms blared. They rushed to the comm room, meeting up with M'gann on the way.

"What's going on?!" She asked, bracing herself as the base shook.

"No idea, whatever it is its not good."

As they rushed into the comm room they greeted by the sight of a woman fighting hand to hand with Batman. Superman was on the floor covered in green goop while a large man was getting ready to toss Green Arrow across the room.

The teens stood in shock. Though only one spoke.

Well, maybe spoke wasn't the right word.

"MOM?!?!? DAD?!?!" Danny yelled.

The man spun around suddenly, casually tossing green arrow across the room.

"DANNO!!! MADDIE ITS DANNY!!!"

The man raced over, only to be cut off by the Flash blocking his path.

"Danny, run! We'll hold them off, just get out of here!"

Danny stood there dumbfounded.

His dad on the other hand, wasn't.

"You stay away from my son you damn creep!" He shouted as the Flash charged him, somehow not noticing the man pull out...a baseball bat?

Danny winced as flash got hit with the Fenton anti-creep stick.

"Dad! Stop! They're my friends!" He tried to placate his dad.

"Friends don't convince you to run away from home to join a cult!" He then noticed the other two teens. "Holy Fudge! MADDIE THERES MORE KIDS!!!" He shouted as his wife held off the creep from Gotham.

"Dad! The League didn't make me leave! And it isn't a cult!"

This made the man pause.

"I left to protect you guys! The GIW was gonna come for you, so I led them away! I only joined the league so I could keep helping people!" Danny yelled.

The orange-clad man stopped, giving his son a sad look.

"It's not your job to protect us son, it's our job to protect you." He said picking his son up and wrapping him in a bear hug.

Conner just stood there confused as M'gann clapped and grinned out the outcome.

"Now can you tell mom to stop trying to mace Batman?" Danny asked when his dad put him down. The two turned to the fighting duo.

"Let's give them 5 more minutes. Your mom hasn't had this much fun since she ditched that cult in Asia."

(Feel free to take this idea and run with it. I like the idea that the fentons are a force of nature that defies explanation..but Maddie definitely stole their early ecto samples from the lazarus pit)

[charmingcritter]

Um, hiya! I'm currently in the need of some help!

I've been assigned to create a mini ethnography website for a fandom of my choosing as a final project and I decided to do the Danny Phantom fandom!!! I need some help though,

I've linked a google form above, it has 15 questions with 7 multiple choice questions and 8 written response questions. Answers will be kept anonymous and I won't be collecting emails. I admit, a few of the written questions may get more personable/involved so yeah...

I want to present the fandom in the best way possible so yeah!! Please reblog this to hopefully get more responses in qwq I'll leave it open for a week but thank you in advance to anyone who takes the time to respond!!!! <3

[fdelopera]

On 22 September, 1909, the Parisian daily newspaper, Le Gaulois, ran the advertisement pictured above, announcing the serialization of Gaston Leroux's new novel, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra.

Leroux's novel premiered on 23 September, 1909 — 115 years ago today. It ran for 15 weeks, and it was segmented into 68 sections, each section covering roughly half a chapter's worth of content.

To celebrate 115 years of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra in print, over the next 15 weeks I will be posting all 68 sections of the Gaulois publication of Phantom to my blog. These posts will correspond with the original dates of publication.

Here is a link to Le Gaulois for 22 September, 1909. The advert for Phantom is in the middle of the page.

And in case you are wondering what the text of the advertisement above says, here is my translation:

Weary of purely psychological novels, the public awoke one day with a great desire to hear stories. Straightaway, these stories were served up — tales of bandits and policemen — assuredly quite amusing, but which soon grew tedious in their turn, yet without appeasing the public's thirst for mystery and magic. This is why the Gaulois has requested from one of the public's most rightly beloved authors, M. Gaston Leroux, a novel which, while departing from the genre dear to the Conan Doyles of the Old and New World, is still replete with the delectable inquietude that will give a thrill to the beguiled reader. More than once, this irresistible anguish will conjure in the minds of some of our female readers the dreadful, terrifying, ghostly, and sorrowfully human image, despite all of the illusion that surrounds it, of The Phantom of the Opera. We need not introduce our readers to M. Gaston Leroux, whom it is generally agreed is in possession of the most astonishing suppleness of imagination of which one can conceive, but we would indeed like to say that The Phantom of the Opera is worthy of achieving even greater success in the Gaulois than that which was attained in the Illustration by The Mystery of the Yellow Room and The Perfume of the Lady in Black, by the same author. Tomorrow, this Thursday, in the "Gaulois," read: The Phantom of the Opera by M. Gaston Leroux

[nelkcats]

Conner Phantom, learning to live

It had been a few years since Vlad and Danny had stopped being enemies, years since Amity had been at peace with the ghosts. Danny spent his days teaching his children (he assumed they were his children) about well, everything.

Dan and Ellie had prefabricated knowledge, the halfa couldn't quite get it, but the point was that while they knew who was the creator of the chemistry, they had no idea how to do 2 + 2, so he made it his homework to fill in all the gaps.

No one at Amity blinked at the 30-year-boy-who-was-actually-12 and the 15-year-girl-who-was-actually-4, Danny guessed they had gotten used to the weirdness. One day, Vlad called and pointed out that someone had entered his database a few months ago (apparently he checked his digital security very little when he didn't make "evil" plans) and they had stolen the plans for the cloning capsule. Danny had a bad feeling.

Of course, it was after a month of searching that he found out about Lex Luthor's little "project." To say that he was angry was an understatement; he found the poor Superboy being mind controlled. He felt sad when he remembered Ellie's situation and well, he ended up stealing a clone child and destroying some laboratory. Like old times.

The world did not know of Phantom; Amity was suspicious, almost jealous that their protector could be taken away if they said a word, so they didn't say anything out of the city. It's not like the League did anything when they called. Danny didn't care, less tedious meetings and contingency plans for him. Besides, he wasn't excited about going back to the field if he didn't have to, as long as Amity was safe, the world could be destroyed for all he cared.

He wondered if spending too much time with Dan was affecting him, but in the end he dismissed the thought. Upon arriving home, Superboy had woken up and was being interrogated by the Phantoms. He chose his name to be Conner (sounds good apparently) and agreed to take classes to fill in the gaps of knowledge, just like Ellie, he seemed uncomfortable with the gaps.

The poor boy looked uncomfortable, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. After finding out whose clone he was, he wondered if they would take him to Superman, but Danny just snorted. By the end of the week, Conner was a Phantom, and he was fine with that. Danny even told him that he could live normally if he wanted to, and the boy happily accepted the offer. Conner didn't want to be a hero, at least not that early, and Danny was happy with his decision.

Danny frowned thinking of all the heroes who would say that is "selfish" for someone with power to not to use it. But he believed that they were doubly selfish. Being a teenage hero wasn't fucking easy. He hugged Conner, welcoming him to the family and within days, the whole town already knew about him (they also knew whose clone he was, but they didn't really care, they weren't snitching).

Curiously, it was Tim Drake who noticed the strange family visiting Gotham (a 23-year-old seemed to be berating a 30-year-old for stealing tires, he snorted at the irony). However he froze when he saw Clark?, but much younger, speaking in Kryptonian and laughing. He called a meeting in the batcave and tried to call the family, but as soon as they saw the expression in his face they vanished from sight.

Hell, he needed to report it to Bruce.

[bet-on-me-13]

Stranded Danny AU

Danny gets pulled into a faraway Dimension by a Villain one day, just after the events of Phantom Planet. He is barely 15.

He has no way to get back, but he does manage to unlock the power to make Portals. Unfortunately, none of the dimensions he ends up in are his own, and none have enough Ectoplasm to open portals for very long. It takes up to a week to scrounge up enough Ecto to open a single Portal into the next dimension over.

And none of these worlds have Technology strong enough to take him home either. The few times he did find some tech that could potentially get him home, it never worked or it was destroyed before he could finish it.

He spends well over 30 years of his own Personal Timeline trying to get back to his home dimension, constantly gathering scraps of Ectoplasm and Tech until the day he eventually collected enough to build a safe way home.

But time does not pass the same across dimensions.

What to him was a 30 year long Journey, was actually just 10 for his home Dimension.

And they had to move on without him.

Sam became a Business Woman who used her money to fund Nature Preservation Organizations. She hired Pamela Isley and helped her through her powers when she became Poison Ivy (still a Villain, but secretly working for Sam)

Tucker got a high ranking job at Star Labs, and helped Cyborg come to terms with his new life when he became a cyborg. He even helped upgrade his tech a few times.

Jazz became a successful Psychiatrist, and now works under Daina Lance as one of the Justice League's top Therapists, specifically their Child Psychologist for young Heroes

Ellie took his place as a Hero and became the new protector of Amity after he dissappear. After the Justice League was formed, she joined them and became one of their best members, always working and nor really taking many breaks.

They always wondered what happened to Danny, and spent many years trying to figure out what happened to him, but never succeeded. They finally began to assume that he was fully dead after a few years of searching. They had enough time to come to terms with it.

...

So one night, while a 22 yr old Ellie is resting on one of her rare days off, she gets called in by the League about a possible Dimensional Breach near her Home Town. JLD was deployed to investigate, and she was asked to tag along since she was the Resident Hero of the area.

But she refuses, thinking it's just some random ghost trying to enter the Living Realm illegally after she began regulating the Portal. JLD would be able to handle it on their own, let her sleep on her day off!

Meanwhile, JLD has located the spot where the Dimensional Breach is about to appear. They surround the Area, and prepare to interrogate whoever is about to appear, or deal with them if need be.

Space begins to tear apart as the fabric of Reality breaks apart at the seams. And from that wound in existence, an Adult Danny steps out. He is 44 years old, and looks like a less buff version of Dan without the mustache (basically imagine Danny as Ford Pines from Gravity Falls)

The JLD can sense that he is strong, but not too much so. It feels like he is powerful, but like that power has been starved for a while.

"Who are you?" Asks Wonderwoman, ready to jump into battle if needed. "What are your intentions in this World?"

Danny ignores them. He is staring into the Night Sky, eyes wide. The Constellations he hadn't seen in 30 years were there. The stars were in the right locations. He takes a deep breath, tasting the amount of Ectoplasm in thr Air. This is it. He's home. He's finally home.

"Finally" He says breathlessly. A slightly manic Grin on his face.

"What the hell does that mean?" Demands Constantine. The grin had unsettled him, and he began preparing a few spells just to be sure.

Danny ignored him again, this time deciding to close his eyes and finally eat his fill of Ectoplasm for the first time in 30 years. He was ravenous, this was the first decent Meal of Ectoplasm he had been able to have in 30 years. He was giddy, he was so happy to finally be home.

However the Heroes didn't know what was happening. All they knew was that some guy had ripped a hole in reality, said "finally" with a crazy grin on his face, and started emitting a dangerous amount of Death Energy for no apparent reason.

Constantine reacts on impulse, trying to cast a Banishing Spell on this guy.

Danny, feeling the spell begin to pull him away from his home after he had just found it again after Thirty. Fucking. Years. Does something that he would consider reasonable.

He quickly dashes over to Constantine and slams him through a tree.

This sparks a fight between Danny and the JLD. And at first he is having some serious trouble, but as he continues to feed on Ectoplasm and recover his strength, he becomes progressively more Powerful. It comes to the point where the JLD can't keep up anymore, and call in Backup.

Ellie was enjoying her night off, but the desperate Call from JLD about a powerful Entity at the edge of Amity finally got her going.

She rushes over and slams into Danny just as he is about to attack Constantine again. Neither of them recognize eachother, since they have changed since they were kids (Danny moreso) and continue to Duke it out.

Ellie is trying to banter with him, but Danny is really angry at this point. So he resorts to his final attack, his Ghostly Wail.

He levels a good chuck of the Forest, and in the end he is standing over Ellie as his anger fades. He says "Sorry" and he starts taking a look around him to see if there is anybody else.

Ellie is on the ground, shaken because she recognized that power.

She gets up, and asks "Danny?"

Danny finally gets a good look at her and says, and says "Ellie?"

Meanwhile JLD still has ringing in their ears and thinks that Ellie just called Danny "Daddy"

(Which makes sense because of the new age difference)

[corinnetheanime]

Angrboda Battlesuit - Phantom Series

Finally finished. My hand hurts, but it was worth it. Thank goodness my work schedule changed for the week.

Anyway, the ref is done. This took a LONG time to finish, at least 15 hours from today alone. But I'm happy with how it came out. Danny's hair arguably was the hardest part. XD

The spear, Lancea Longini (or Spear of Destiny) is not a part of the battle-suit itself, it's actually a weapon Danny inherited for... well, specific reasons. It's presently in the inactive and active phases as shown. Danny can summon and unsummon it at will if the situation requires it.

You can also see the company's symbol on the back of the suit. :D

And finally, Danny is a lot older here. Aiming for around 19-23 age range. Feel free to do fanart or whatnot, I'm just really happy this is finished.

[corkinavoid]

Obsessed With You by Cosmicandy

Theater gothic/Phantom of the opera

(For some horrific reason I couldn't think of a trope)

DPxDC Phantom in the Opera

9/2 sat

Went to Gotham City Opera to see Eugene Onegin with B & Dames. The performance sucked ass (as modern takes on classics usually do), but during Tatyana's aria, some tech guy dropped a rubber chicken from catwalks right on stage. I bet it was on purpose since the lead's voice sounded much similar to the sound that chicken made. Wish I could shake the dude's hand, that was truly the crescendo of the whole scene.

15/2 sun

Came by GCO on the way to WE. Had some time to spare, so decided to go in and find the rubber chicken guy to thank him for the laugh last week. Thought he might appreciate the positive feedback since he was defo yelled at for the stunt. Turns out everyone blames it on a 'ghost'. Using 'Phantom of the Opera' as a cover story is poor taste, in my opinion, but on the other hand, it worked, and who am I to judge.

17/2 mon

Got curious and pulled up the records of GCO employees. No one matches the guy I've seen on the catwalks.

18/2 tue

Blackmailed Damian into drawing the guy. No match through the face recognition program. Should have expected that, really; the one cute guy with a sense of humor I meet (or see, actually), and he doesn't exist.

20/2 thur

Can't stop thinking about the rubber chicken guy. Might have to go back to GCO and ask about the whole ghostly rumor. Last time, no one bat an eye at the 'ghost' excuse, now that I think about it. Has it happened before? Is it a go-to explanation for any prank no one wants to take credit for?

26/2 wed

Visited GCO at night. Seen the guy, but the cam footage came back corrupted when checked downstairs. So maybe the fact that his hair was floating and glowing in the dark was not a hallucination.

27/2 thur

Definitely not a hallucination! Good news: got a sample. Bad news: after analysis, the data also came back corrupted. Weird news: the hair keeps glowing even after it's been cut off.

2/3 sun

The guy's name is Danny. Ghost story confirmed. I'm having a crisis.

4/3 tue

I'm not sure if I want to know absolutely everything there is to know about him or I want to forget everything I've already learned. But then, I've already got so far. Might as well commit to the bit?

8/3 sat

Was invited to see La Traviata tomorrow. Can I still call that reconnaissance, or am I in date territory?

10/3 mon

...it was a date. On an entirely unrelated note, Teddy Hyde ruined all my attempts at coming prepared.

18/3 tue

Heard a new rumor among GCO staff members. They suspect the ghost in their opera is having a crush on Red Robin. Not sure where they've got that idea, but it sure took them some time to notice.

19/3 wed

Damian keeps staring at me at dinners. Maybe I should take that portrait of Danny that he did down from the wall over my bed.

22/3 sat

Going on a date today, and this time, it's definitely a date! Feels like I should be having a crisis over dating a ghost, but somehow, I'm only having a crisis over outfit choices.

61/0° gBs

hEy, yoU're keEEpinG a DIary¡ aboUt Me!¡ ThAt"s cuTe FUCK OFF DANNY THIS IS PRIVATE INFORMATION GET OUT heHeheEhe no~

~•~•~•~

The thing is, I loved the song. And I loved the aesthetic. And I had such a goddamn hard time figuring out how to fit them together; I went through at least three different setups before deciding fuck it imma write silly boys being silly and wish for the best.

Dare I say it turned out cute as fuck, even though I still missed the mark on theater gothic aesthetic for the most part. Anyway, have a few pictures for general vibes!

[Just so you know, if you enter 'sex with a ghost' into google, the first few results will be the lyrics to 'Sex with a Ghost' by Terry Hyde, which is why Tim's research has been rather fruitless]

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #22

Back in my day.

Imagine dis…

Alfred is a whole mystery to the Batfam that whenever he pulls out his shotgun we are in awe at this kickass badass British butler, on the other hand, we are always in the shadows of his past endeavors. We all knew he was a S.A.S. Armed Services, fighting in 15 different operations between ages 18 and 20. A skilled medical and front liner soldier who was decorated. He later joined MI5, as well as the secret forces of the Queen and later being knighted by Her Majesty.

He is silent as he comes by, he can out Batman the Batman despite Bruce learning from the greatest assassin of all time. He is calm, too calm for any situation to the point your subconscious asks if he had seen something wilder, more insane to consider an alien attack, a mutant crocodile attack every Tuesday is considered somewhat tame, or even the rise of global or universal threats that Alfred seemed to brush it off.

So, who is he?

…

Alfred Pennyworth had always been a mysterious figure. He had dedicated his life to serving the Wayne family and their caped crusader alter-egos as Bruce Wayne's loyal butler and the revered keeper of Wayne Manor. But Alfred had held a secret for decades, one that would finally come to light most unexpectedly.

Alfred was a teenager called Danny Fenton long before he donned the perfect suit and tie. He lived in the small town of Amity Park, which was riddled with secrets of its own. Danny was not your typical adolescent; he had a strange encounter with a ghostly gateway that had bestowed upon him unusual and otherworldly skills. He had protected Amity Park from vengeful ghosts and spectral threats thanks to his power to shift into a phantom hero known as Danny Phantom.

Danny had just recently been crowned as the crowned prince of the Infinite Realm a week after he had defeated the tyrant Pariah Dark who had attempted to rip off a space in the fabric of in-between just to suck in his little quaint town. It was determined by both the ancient and the Observants that it was better for him to finish his mortal life before he dawns on the crown, as he was still growing, he was still considered a baby ghost younger than Young Blood as his death was still recent.

But slowly the thoughts that he had kept behind his head are coming back to him. Jazz his beloved sister as well as the one who had raised her despite being a child herself who had no idea of raising a child, may analyze her all she wants but she could never sympathize nor connect with his inner thoughts of being one of the halfas. He died, he never really had the time to process it because he had to face the Lunch Lady just a few days after the accident. 

His friends, now looking at them closely, have seen that they both have some sort of guilt in their eyes. They both have seen him die amid the electrician, he can’t help but feel some sort of longing at the cemetery the north of Amity Park, he is too alive to have a grave yet too dead to be alive.

He thought he was getting there, changing the views of the people. To show the world that his kind is sentient but the people kept whispering. Shadows cast long by the looming specters sent chills down their spines. Every eerie wail or flicker of a ghostly presence filled them with dread. Their eyes widened in terror as the ethereal figures materialized before them. A hushed silence fell over the town when ghostly battles raged in the skies. Parents warned their children to stay indoors when the ghost alarms rang. Fearful whispers of the "Ghost Boy" circulated, both a hero and a phantom menace. 

The ghostly encounters left scars of fear etched in the minds of Amity Park's residents.

In the end, he was forced to leave his home dimension, why? It’s because the GIW have become more vicious more brutal at their hunting, With the sacrifice of both his friends and family they have shoved him into the portal, never to be seen again.

…

All bloodied and still injured he had landed in a period in the early 1900. He thought that he may have accidentally traveled back in time but when he saw too many conflicting events that he had learned during his high school days that didn’t happen during this time led him to believe that he had traveled a different dimension. Small ripples in the water created a tsunami of change in what he previously known as the past, when he was still in the streets gathering information, he had noticed that he landed in the middle of London during the early 1900s. Good enough that child labor laws are still not a thing so he can work with practically anyone without questions asked. The bad news is that his supposed great-grandfather's version in this dimension had already died, according to his family tree history during his science project in 4th grade his great-grandfather went to London to earn a few bucks before traveling back to America where he would meet his supposed great grandmother and have children. Since he died before he even went back to America the Nightgale-Fenton line died with him.

Luckily a barren couple took pity on him and took him in, since Danny can’t no longer bear his original last name, he embraced the new name from this nice couple who had taken him in. Danny may have felt guilty at the prospect or even the idea of replacing his family but he can’t help but think of it as a new beginning of his life. No one to hunt down his ghostly half, No GIW, and No fruit loop trying to turn him into his heir.

Alfred Pennyworth

During this time he did a lot of odd jobs, cleaning the inside of a chimney, mining, selling newspapers… etc. Sure, it was hard work and he can’t help but look at the children far younger than him taking in jobs far more dangerous just so they can shave something to eat. He can’t help but feel too blessed when he was back in his timeline. Warn food to eat under a sturdy roof to keep out the elements as well as education. Things that were too mundane, too common, that he now feels like a luxury. 

Over time he developed an accent as well as new mannerisms and vocabulary. 

So, when war broke out on the horizon his core ached at the notion of protection thus signed up in the military. 

Sure, he became the most feared soldier in the fields due to his using some of his ghostly abilities subtly. His enemies who stand in front of him call him The Vengeful Orphan, due to his avenging every soldier who seems to die at the hands of their enemies. 

Between the ages of 18 and 20, he served in the S.A.S. Armed Services, engaging in 15 different actions. A decorated medical specialist and front-line soldier. He then joined MI5, as well as the Queen's secret forces, and was knighted by Her Majesty.

…

As time passes by the ages, slowly but surely. He had already outlived his adoptive parents and friends of his. He still held the authority of being the officially crowned prince of the Infinite Realms. He had already explored the world experiencing the culture and history of this world.

At this time, he had already recovered enough ectoplasm to turn back to his ghostly prime and create a portal to the Infinite Realms. But something in him nagged, his core kept trying to tell him something when he was about to take a step inside the portal, but he didn’t seem to know why. His years as Phantom and Alfred Pennyworth taught him to listen to his guts, and it saved him multiple times, without looking back he stayed in this dimension until his mortal life perished.

It seemed that he didn’t have to find it for too long as he was approached by none other than Thomas Wayne with the preposition to be Wayne’s butler.

So, when little Bruce Wayne was born he couldn’t help but feel a little fond of the tyke. He reminded Bruce of himself when he was just a simple young boy before everything. When the fated, night came he tried to shield Bruce from everything, to have him resemble a somewhat normal life. 

That night he tucked in a teary-eyed Bruce into bed who had just witnessed his parent’s murder. He faced the ghosts of both Martha and Thomas who had been with the young master since the incident a few hours ago and tearfully promised the two ghostly couple that he would take care of Bruce. Both couples seemed to be in shock at their butler who had seen them but felt relief that their boy was in safe hands.

…

When his ward Bruce Wayne turned into a crime-fighting vigilante, he can’t help but softly snort at his outfit. Sure, he admits he had a worse outfit when he started as Phantom when he was just a young lad but he is willing to take anything other than a furry suit that fights crime at night. He has no right to criticize either since his alter ego is just him with an inverted color without a mask yet people seem to make no connection between him and Phantom, in his defense he is a young teen whereas Bruce is in his 20s. He just raised an eyebrow at his outfit and Bruce immediately changed the design to be a bit more sophisticated than just a Halloween costume of a bat.

…

So when Bruce starts to bring in orphans he can’t help but smile fondly as the manor is slowly filled with such joy from each child that seems to find a home in the large manor. He can't help but reminisce if this could have been his life if Vlad had learned to forgive Jack or if his parents and Amity Park just accepted him if the GIW didn’t exist. He thought one day when he was drinking tea with Jason, Jason who died and came back different, never broken. His grandchild who experienced his death in a slow yet painful way died and came back later. He knew there was something different with his grave but he chalked it up in being his ghostly sense sensing the ectoplasm around Gotham. He just wished he checked the grave even though it holds so much sentimental value to the dead. 

Don’t get him wrong the moment Jason came back to enact his revenge on B he was already aware something was in Gotham he just didn’t know at the time that it was Jason. He is more than happy to kill the Joker as he had taken mortal lives when he was serving the army but Bruce might notice and he still held fear at the idea of Dan.

After the entire revelation between his son and grandchild, he just welcomed back Jason into the manor as if nothing was wrong with the boy and prepared his favorite dish and snacks in the library whenever he visited.

…

Now it had been a long way since he entered this dimension, now the long table at the manor is filled with guests and children alike. His grandchildren are full of life despite what had life thrown at them. Dick was the first one to arrive and started, Barbara followed, Jason who took off the wheel, Tim with his brilliant mind with his worrying caffeine intake, Stephanie who fought with his father, Cassandra who started just to atone for the sin of killing her father yet became loyal and caring young lady and Damian who started to learn what humanity is like. Sure others had been emotionally adopted but all of them all have places in the manor.

…

His grandchildren as well as his pseudo son kept throwing him curious glances every time, He managed to seemingly appear behind them to notify them of dinner. He can also feel the envy of walking silently from the assassin-trained children. He can feel Bruce’s stare whenever he raises an eyebrow at some classified cases that are supposedly secured. He can hear their whispers as they exclaim to one another that he supposedly knew everything, of course, he knew everything the manor became his new haunt after a few years.

…

He already raised an eyebrow at the simultaneous alarm from every vigilante at the dinner table but imagine his surprise when he joined in looking over the Bat computer as Oracle barked out orders and instructions, as a familiar opponent showed itself.

A green glowing monster is wreaking havoc throughout Gotham it came from Central City and marched its way here to Gotham which became even more powerful due to the ectoplasm in the air. There is already notable damage from both cities as the rest of the heroes seem to work together to evacuate and stop the creature. The JLD attacks seem to have some effect but it was useless due to its minions that kept them occupied. Oracle is so focused on the situation and doesn’t notify their pseudo grandfather to disappear from behind her.

…

The entire JL is starting to feel hopeless as the green creature seems to raze Gotham as if the stone road is made out of water. Every magician and heavy hitter have been called but no one was able to put damage to the creature.

When all hopes seemed lost, they all heard a loud bang from a shotgun.

Alfred Pennyworth is standing on top of a rubble of concrete and metal, the butler of Batman, the pseudo father, and grandfather of the entire bat clan, also known as Agent A. Carrying his signature shotgun and a thermos that seems to strap to his hip like a belt. 

He kept firing round after round from his trusty old shotgun and pausing for a second to reload. He glanced at the heroes around and seemed to raise an eyebrow at the absolute massacre that he had just done to the creature’s minions.

As he paused to take another reload, he paused at movement and looked at the space in front of him and waited. The creature appeared roaring out in fury but seemed to pause the moment it laid eyes on Alfred. The creature seems to shake with uncertainty and fear. Every vigilante and hero present could see its eyes growing wide from shock and fear as well the cold sweat as Alfred raised an eyebrow at the creature as he slowly walked towards the creature with annoyance with every step.

Some heroes who had enhanced hearing could hear Alfred muttering about, back in his day blob ghosts were these cute and harmless things but now some up-start wannabe newly formed one seems to think he is all hot shot. 

He proceeds to scold the creature as if he had just caught one of his grandchildren sneaking their hands on the cookie jar and proceeds to take out the thermos and effectively catch the creature. As if the one responsible for the mess never existed in the first place.

Now the bat clan has rules when they are in the manor or the presence of Alfred and one of those rules is that there will be no swearing when he is around, but there is one word that seems to resound from each hero's mind.

What the fuck just happened?!?!

…

Now as you know I started to post less, now it is both from writer’s block and class being in the way.

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.