#Once again Christine takes an L

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #5

Masterpost

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Warnings: sexism, dehumanization, fantasy illness

Mistress had braided her hair and put it in a bun, which was quite nice on her. She also added some red paint on her lips and gold dust on her eyelids. Kit wasn’t too sure about that.

He looked away before she caught him staring, but:

“What do you think?” she turned her head a bit, showing off her weaving.

“Pretty,” he said. She hummed a bit, looking into the mirror on her vanity. 

“I suppose you couldn’t say it if it weren’t true. What time is it?”

“Nine fifty-two am.” She looked at her watch.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.” She picked out a pair of black shoes from her closet. Flat ones, not one of the pairs of tall shoes, and Kit realized he was a bit taller than her. Huh. He didn’t feel like he was, and he certainly wasn’t yesterday.

Maybe she was wearing tall shoes then.

They stepped out of Iris’s rooms. 

“Everything alright, your majesty?” asked Sir Brennan, as polite as could be.

“Of course. Ms. Mira will be here in a few minutes; we’ll be in Kit’s rooms.”

“Understood, your grace.”

It seemed a bit silly to move across the hall for very little reason, but Kit supposed Mistress valued her privacy.

Ms. Mira was right on time, at one minute past ten. She was tall, and blond, with brown stern eyes and a strong jaw. 

“Good morning, your grace.” Her voice was low in pitch and volume.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about her.

“Hello, Mira. How are you? And how’s your sister?”

“I’m wonderful, darling, and Mina is obnoxious as usual. Something about a muse, she won’t shut up about it.” Mira rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth were turned upwards.

“And who are you?” Mira turned on him. “Are you my model for today?”

“He is,” said Mistress.

Mira stepped closer. She cupped his face, a thumb on his chin and two fingers under his jaw. He willed himself not to flinch, but the grip was firm, not painful.

She tilted his face back and forth, her eyes studying him. He averted his eyes, trying to be good, but she tsked.

“Look at me,” she said.

He met her gaze, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

“Hmm. Fascinating.” She let go of him, and pulled out a notebook and pencil from her pocket.

“Do you always look so pale?”

“No ma’am.”

“He’s ill,” explained Iris, “recovering from poisoning.”

“I see.” Kit opened his mouth to explain, but Mira held up a finger. “No, no,” she said. “Don’t tell me. I’ll have to make a new wardrobe for you again anyway.”

She scribbled into her book. “Might as well work with what we have. Have you ever had your measurements taken before?”

Kit shook his head.

“I didn’t think so. Right then. First things first, name?”

He tensed. The audacious rudeness of asking for it so blatantly made his nerves buzz. “You may call me Kit.”

“Mhm. Height?” Kit shrugged. She raised a brow, and shut her book with a snap. “I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning.”

Mira pulled out a length of.. not quite rope but something similar.

“Stand up straight, shoulders back. No, don’t puff out your chest- here.” She maneuvered him like a doll, and he stood as still as possible.

Mira bent by his foot and slowly straightened, holding the measuring tool to him. She squinted at the number. “Adequate,” she muttered, and Kit didn’t think she was actually talking to anyone but herself.

Mira stepped back a bit, looking him up and down. “Despite the color, your skin is a shockingly good texture and even tone,” she jotted it down. “I’m sure once you’re well, we could do some lovely things with color. Are you wearing makeup?” 

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Like this, Kit,” Mistress gestured to her face. “You saw me put it on.”

“Oh. No, then.”

“Are you sure?” asked Mira. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Hmph. And what do you do day-to-day?”

“He’ll be with me,” interrupted Iris, “as… a companion.”

“So nothing athletic? Good. I assume we’re not talking servant-wear because otherwise I wouldn’t be here,” she chuckled a bit, mostly to herself.

Mira started measuring around his head, then his neck, from shoulder-to-shoulder; it went on. She constantly adjusted his posture- “no slouching, my dear”- but she was gentle in her firmness.

“I’m thinking subtlety, less look-at-me and more tasteful I-belong-here. Thoughts?”

Iris smiled, “Perfect.” 

Kit agreed with her. The less flashy the better. 

“Modest, or do we want to show off a little skin?” Mira turned to him, expecting an answer.

“Modest, please. But, um, I don’t mind skirts above my knees.”

Mira gave him a blank stare. “Skirts?” 

Kit had the sinking feeling that he’d done something wrong. 

“Kit,” frowned Iris, “We can’t have you wearing skirts or dresses. Men don’t do that here.”

“I- I didn’t know.”

“Fascinating, but no matter,” said Mira, dismissive. “We can get experimental another time. Do you know your shoe size?”

Kit shifted. “Do I need shoes?” They looked uncomfortable and rigid. Like they would bite into him every time he kneeled.

Mira opened her mouth, her brow furrowed, but Iris intercepted her objection.

“I suppose not,” she said, “but at least wear socks.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Mira wrote something in her notebook, underlining it twice.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” said Mira, suddenly more polite, “What do fae normally wear?”

“Um, there’s not... rules. Some don’t wear clothes at all.”

“Incredible. And you like skirts?”

“They’re easy to sew when I wanted something new. I did have some pants and shirts. It’s the gentry that wear complicated things like lace or silver thread.”

“Amazing. Well, I’ll make some mock-ups for formal wear and send you some altered clothes I already have on hand.”

Mistress Iris and Mira said their goodbyes, and she was gone.

“I think she likes you,” said Iris. 

___________________

Just as Mistress predicted, Chef Christine did want to talk to him. The walk to the kitchen was somewhat familiar, and he took comfort in the fact that he might be able to actually find his way around at some point.

The kitchen wasn’t particularly busy, a few people cleaning and prepping for lunch.

“Ah, there you are!” A woman with a white coat that said ‘Executive Chef Christine’ on the breast came towards them.

“You must be Kit,” she smiled. “How was breakfast?” 

“Good,” he said, mildly bewildered. Too many people were asking for his opinion today.

“Wonderful. Let’s talk.” Chirstine led them further into the large kitchen, and Kit suddenly felt a bit cold despite the ovens and lit fires. He shrugged it off. There might be a draft somewhere.

Christine brought them to a small table crammed into the corner, pulling out a chair for Mistress.

Kit sat heavily, his legs a bit tired. It must have been the long walk.

The table had a huge binder on it, full of papers. Christine flipped through the pages until she landed on ‘KIT’.

“So I have ‘no iron or steel’ and ‘no salt’, but I don’t have your preferences.” Christine picked up her pencil. “Anything you don’t eat?”

“Songbirds.” Christine’s eyes widened. Kit flushed a bit. “I, uh, feel bad eating them. They just sing so nice.”

“Oh, um, okay. Anything else?”

“Uh, deer? I have, I mean, had, a friend who's a deer-man so it feels wrong to hunt them. And snakes, for a similar reason.” Christine stared at him, and he fidgeted. “Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m just surprised! We don’t cook any of those animals anyway.” She smiled, and Kit felt a little better about being so obviously soft-hearted.

“Although I’m a bit curious,” said Iris, “what did you hunt before? No deer seems a bit restrictive.”

Kit looked down at his hands. They were shaking, and his head felt a bit light. 

“Um, pheasant. Turkey. Fish. Boar, if I could get it.”

“How did you manage hunting boar?” asked Christine.

“It’s easier if you have a partner, but a spear works fine if you can drop from above. Just aim for the neck.”

Christine glanced at Iris. “Okay, well, is there anything else you want to tell me? Likes, dislikes?”

A headache was forming between his eyes, the light of the kitchen becoming harsh.

“I could do with less honey… it’s like… drinking wine…” 

“Kit, are you alright?”

“I’m fi-” his throat closed up, and he wheezed, choking on the lie. It hurt, and he grabbed his throat.

Through his blurry vision, he could see the pots and pans on the counters, hanging from the ceiling. All gray steel.

Steel cake pans, cast iron pots, knives, muffin tins. All steel or iron. He needed to get out.

He tried to get up, but his legs fell out from under him.

“Kit!” Iris grabbed him by the arm, and he slumped towards the floor.

“What is it? What’s wrong?!” said Christine, and her voice was jarringly loud.

“I- I don’t know!” Iris shook him, and he tried to tell her that it hurt, but he couldn’t.

“Kit, what’s happening?!” 

The room wouldn’t stop spinning, and there were so many people talking now, all the other cooks staring staring staring.

“Dizzy,” he slurred, which was not what he meant to say.

“Get him some water,” Iris barked at Christine. “Stay with me,” she said, and where else would he be going?

“Here,” Christine handed Iris the glass, and she held it to his lips. He shook his head the best he could. He’d choke on it; his tongue was heavy and clumsy in his mouth.

“Oh my god,” said Iris as fuzzy black spots drifted across his vision. “It’s the metal! Help me get him out!”

Kit stumbled as they pushed and pulled him out of the kitchen and into the dining room.

“I’m so sorry,” said Iris, letting him lie down and pant on the cool wood. “I should have known.”

“Don’ wor’ ‘bout it,” he mumbled. Kit closed his eyes. He could feel and hear Iris sit down on the floor next to him.

“Is it always this bad?” she asked. “Every time?”

“Nooo. ‘M just really sick. Won’t… be so… hard ‘n stuff,” he waved a hand, “soon.”

“Very reassuring, thanks,” said Mistress, dry as a bone. 

Kit smiled a bit into the wood. It made his face hurt, so he dropped it.

It was a half hour later when he could finally push himself off the floor. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” said Iris, helping him up. “It’s my fault. I knew you were ill. Sunlight and fresh air helps, right?”

“Uh huh.”

“Then I’ll show you the gardens.”

“Gardens?”

“Mhm. Come on.”

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

[weemssapphic]

hiii, I hope you are having a great day!

I was wondering... i know it was hard to write lipstick stain buuut would you consider doing a part 2?

hello, i hope you're having a lovely day as well! a couple people asked if i would write a second part so... here it is! ao3 link is in the title <3

for those who haven't read part one: here's a link (it's also in my masterlist)

content/warnings: Larissa takes reader out on a date - nsfw (dom!larissa), age gap (reader is 21+), sexual shapeshifting, praise kink, alcohol consumption, cunnilingus (reader receiving), corruption kink if you squint?

words: ~4.5k

Lipstick Stains - Pt. 2

Larissa Weems x fem!reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series page

Moonlight filtered into the living room of the apartment you shared with your friends, the soft glow a stark contrast to the harsh light coming from the home screen of Netflix that illuminated the television.

You’d somehow managed to field most of your roommate’s questions about your afternoon, wanting to keep the “juicy details”, as Christin put it, to yourself, and soon the topic had moved on to Cassandra’s failing love life, your upcoming midterm exams, and where you would all go for your spring break trip.

Pizza boxes and empty beer bottles were strewn across the coffee table. Christin was nestled in Robin’s arms on the larger of the two couches, Cassandra curled up on the smaller couch, leaving you on a pile of fuzzy blankets on the floor. You didn’t mind - you were wide awake anyway, mind going a mile a minute.

You grabbed your phone from where it layed next to you, beginning to flick through each of your social media apps, hoping for a brief reprieve from the woman that plagued your every thought, from the growing ache between your thighs. The reprieve did not come. Instead, you found your thumb hovering over your contacts app. A quick glance at your roommates told you they were out cold. You scrolled down to the ‘L’s, finding Larissa’s name and opening a new message. 

A glance at the time told you it was 1:34 am. There was no way in hell she’d be up. Even if she were… she’d have something better to do, you were sure of it. You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, staring at your phone, thumbs hovering over the screen as you debated whether or not to text her. 

A snore to your right brought you out of your daze. You locked your phone, groaning and dropping your head to the floor. What had this woman done to you, in such a short amount of time?

You picked yourself up off the floor, switching off the television and heading out of the living room in the hopes that a cold shower and a decent night's sleep would get your mind off the older woman.

Of course, you were sorely mistaken. You couldn’t get your mind off her, no matter how hard you tried, and by the middle of the week, you couldn’t take it anymore. 

You found yourself pacing your room on a Wednesday afternoon, finger hovering once again over Larissa’s contact, typing out and deleting a message over and over again. Everything you came up with sounded so stupid - so juvenile. Perhaps she’d appreciate a phone call instead?

Fuck it. You pressed the ‘call’ button and lifted your phone to your ear, heart beating faster with each passing ring, until it pounded against your ribcage, struggling to break free.

“Larissa Weems?” Her tone was cool, professional, put together - while you felt like you were coming apart at the seams.

“Hi,” you breathed out. “It’s Y/N. You know, from the-”

“I know who you are.” You could practically hear the woman smirk at the other end of the line. “I was wondering when you would call.” 

At least she remembers your name? That has to count for something?

“Uh, right. Yeah. I was just wondering how you were doing? And, maybe, if you were free sometime?” You stopped your pacing to shuffle from foot to foot, glancing out the window to watch the cars pass by on the street below.

Larissa’s melodic laugh reached your ear and your stomach flipped pleasantly. “I’m doing well, thank you.”

There was a brief pause in which time seemed to stand still as you wondered what she was thinking, whether she was going to try to let you down gently. And then - “What do you say I take you out to dinner on Friday?” 

Dinner? Somehow you’d just been expecting a hook-up, you hadn’t dared hope the woman would show any interest in you beyond relieving some sexual frustration.

“Darling?” You realized with a jolt that Larissa was waiting for a reply.

“Y-yes, of course, I’d love to go out to dinner with you.”

“Wonderful. The earliest I can make is 7, I hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You couldn’t help the victorious grin that was spreading across your face, the butterflies that were erupting in your stomach.

“Where can I pick you up?”

You recited your address and said goodbye to Larissa, barely having hung up the phone before falling back onto your bed and squealing in delight. The panic would set in soon enough when you realized you had no idea where you were going or what you should be wearing.

~~~

Friday came both far too quickly and far too slowly for your liking. Your roommates teased you relentlessly, though they thankfully had the mercy to make themselves scarce when the afternoon of your date with Larissa came upon you.

Robin and Christin excused themselves early to go on a date of their own while Cassandra helped you with your makeup, distracting you with some horror stories of hook-ups with frat boys from her freshman year. 

When it was time for you to get dressed, she gave you a quick hug and shut herself in her room, turning Spotify all the way up to give you your space.

6:57 pm. You gave yourself a once-over in the mirror. You’d opted for a long black skirt and a baby blue silk blouse with just the top button undone. Cassandra had done a great job with your makeup - you didn’t usually wear eyeliner, but you had to admit it suited you, drawing attention to your eyes. You hoped Larissa would like it.

Your phone buzzed and you reached for it automatically. Larissa.

“Hi, are you here?”

“I believe so, though the parking here is a little confusing.”

It was your turn to laugh - she was right, the set-up of the student apartment buildings wasn’t very visitor-friendly. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ll be right down.”

You grabbed your keys and your wallet, stuffing them into a little clutch that you’d dug out of the back of your closet, praying you were dressed fancy enough for wherever Larissa was taking you. She dressed rather expensively and you were sure her taste was no different.

You took the steps two at a time, somehow managing not to twist an ankle in your heeled boots, and scoured the parking lot for your date, finally spotting the woman leaned against a deep blue Rolls Royce at the other end of the lot, busy typing away on her phone.

Your cheeks warmed as you drank in her form. Her dress was silver, off-the shoulder, cinched at the waist. The fabric rippled off her hips like a waterfall, stopping just shy of her ankles. Her hands were gloved and she wore a long coat and heels that added a few inches to her already impressive height. She was stunning - and you were definitely underdressed.

You waved to her as you approached, finally getting her attention. A warm smile spread across her face and she opened the passenger door for you, gesturing for you to get in.

“Chivalrous,” you remarked, a shy smile playing on your lips.

“I can be.” Her hand brushed your shoulder and she threw you a wink before closing your door and heading over to the driver’s side.

Larissa put the car in drive and pulled onto the street, her right hand coming to rest on your thigh. “I’ve taken the liberty of making a reservation at my favorite restaurant, I do hope you’ll enjoy it.”

You swallowed hard as her thumb began to draw slow, lazy circles over the fabric of your skirt. “I’m sure I’ll love it, Larissa.”

The drive was short, less than 10 minutes, and most of it was spent humming along absentmindedly to the radio as Larissa continued her ministrations on your thigh, shooting you a glance every so often.

She pulled into the parking lot of one of the most expensive restaurants in Burlington. You moved to open your own door but Larissa was faster, having maneuvered swiftly around the car and pulled the door open for you. She placed a hand on the small of your back as she led you into the restaurant and a shiver ran up your spine, your skin burning from the contact despite the layers of fabric between the two of you.

You were led to a booth at the back of the restaurant, away from prying eyes. The waiter brought you a pair of menus as well as the wine list, before tilting his head towards you, an apology already formed in his eyes. 

“Miss, I apologize but I will have to see your ID.”

Your cheeks burned as you rifled through your purse, while Larissa busied herself with the wine list to hide the smirk forming on her lips.

The waiter checked your ID and, once satisfied, apologized again and left you to peruse the menu.

You looked at the woman across from you and saw her shoulders begin to shake with laughter.

“Hey,” you pouted, searching the table for something you could possibly toss at her to get her to stop giggling. “I’m of age, you know.”

“I never doubted that you were,” Larissa suppressed another giggle and, finally, met your gaze. “Has anyone ever told you how adorable you look when you pout like that?”

“I don’t look adorable,” you grumbled, crossing your arms and furrowing your brow, before realizing Larissa had you exactly where she wanted you. “This really isn’t fair, you know that, right?”

“Darling, I never said I played fair.” Her eyes darkened and her voice dropped an octave as she leaned across the table, her hand coming to cup your cheek. Her thumb grazed your bottom lip and you sucked in a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“You’re a tease,” you whined. 

“I have a feeling you’ll come to enjoy it,” Larissa shot you a playful wink before settling back in her seat. “Now, let me spoil you.”

If the wetness pooling between the apex of your thighs was anything to go by, this was going to be a long night.

Larissa ordered a bottle of her favorite red for the table and insisted, with a pointed glare, that you don’t pay attention to the prices on the menu. The two of you spoke about art and culture as you waited for your food, and you chattered on about your art history courses. She seemed genuinely interested in your life as she rested her chin on her hand, fully captivated as she watched you with a glint in her sapphire eyes. 

“So, what is it that you do?” you asked. The woman opposite you intrigued you so - by the time your food arrived, you felt you’d been blabbering at her all evening, and you didn’t know a single thing about her yet. 

“I’m the principal of a school.” 

“Oh? Sounds intense. Which school?”

“Nevermore Academy.” Larissa seemed to tense slightly, eyes carefully searching every inch of your face. 

Your brows furrowed as you thought, carefully chewing a piece of your food. “Oh - that school for… uh, Outcasts?” You tried to recall if you were using the correct term - your roommate, Robin, had grown up in the area and told you stories of some local kids in the area who’d gone to Nevermore, vampires and werewolves and the like, though you knew she tended to over-dramatize things.

Larissa’s lips pulled into a thin line and she nodded, knuckles turning white as her fingers flexed around her silverware. 

“That sounds so cool! I’m not really from this area so I don’t know much about it, but isn’t that like everyone’s dream? To have some kind of magical superpower?” 

Larissa seemed to visibly relax, a hesitant smile gracing her lips. “I don’t quite think that’s what everyone thinks, though I’m certainly doing my best to rectify Nevermore’s reputation.”

“That’s a shame,” you shrugged, taking a sip of your wine and smiling at Larissa, trying to ease any remnants of tension that the conversation seemed to bring up - you could tell she wasn’t used to people being accepting about her profession or her status as an Outcast. Was she an Outcast? 

“I don’t know if this is rude to ask but… are you… do you have any… you know? ‘Superpowers’?” You immediately cringed at yourself for sounding so stupid, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Larissa laughed, the sound like music to your ears. “I do, if you want to call it that.” She looked down into her wine glass, swirling the stem gently between the tips of her manicured fingers.

You raised an eyebrow and cocked your head, waiting for her to continue. She seemed to deliberate for a moment as a long silence stretched between the two of you.

“I’m a shapeshifter.” Her words rolled off her tongue as if she weighed every syllable with great care. She raised her eyes to meet yours, her expression giving away nothing except perhaps a hint of challenge. 

You racked your brain for an appropriate reaction to the admission, sensing your next words would be terribly important to the older woman. 

“Oh…” You let out a deep breath. “That seems like it would come in handy. Thank you for telling me.” You placed your hand on the table between the two of you, palm facing up, wiggling your fingers. 

Larissa looked between your eyes and your hand and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed her own hand in yours, a brilliant, toothy smile lighting up her face. Your skin tingled where hers met your own, lighting up all the nerves in your body. 

You were pleased to find that you hadn’t made a complete fool of yourself, and conversation flowed even easier after that point. Larissa opened up about the trials and tribulations that came with running an entire school, all while your hands were intertwined on the table. 

You’d long finished your meals, the bottle of wine you’d shared was nearly empty when you felt something brush against your ankle and you yelped, nearly jumping out of your seat. 

Larissa suppressed a giggle, giving your hand a squeeze as the tip of her heel grazed against the muscle of your calf. 

“How did you like the food?” Her voice was low and sultry and as she leaned across the table, you caught a strong whiff of her perfume, dowsing you in a steep wave of arousal.

“I-I loved it.” You clenched your thighs together, trying to ignore the building tension in your abdomen and focus on the present moment with your date. “It was so, so good. Really, thank you so much for taking me here.”

“Darling, the pleasure was all mine. But now I think I’d really like to have some dessert, if that’s alright with you?” Larissa’s gaze was intense, all-consuming, hungry - you felt yourself drowning in her eyes, your stomach fluttering at the prospect of what she was proposing. 

You swallowed back a whimper and nodded, unable to concentrate as the pad of Larissa’s thumb traced over your knuckles.

Larissa paid your bill, tipping generously and leading you back to her car. Her hand rested on your thigh again during the drive, inching slowly and tantalizingly higher every few minutes as the pads of her fingers began gentle ministrations against your skirt. You wished in that moment you’d worn something more revealing, feeling desperate for her touch on your skin. 

As the car pulled up a long, winding drive towards a massive, castle-like building, Larissa’s fingers finally brushed against the fabric covering your core, drawing a strangled hiss from your throat. 

“We’re here,” Larissa smirked, removing her hand from your skirt and parking the car. 

“So is this Nevermore?” You bit the inside of your cheek in a vain attempt to regain control of yourself, staring up at the imposing building through the car window with interest.

“It is, I have my apartment at the school. It’s easier that way.”

Larissa led you inside the school. You rushed after her, struggling to keep up with her long strides as she navigated her way through the dark, looming halls, completely empty at this time of night. She stopped in front of a pair of wood-paneled double doors, fishing her keys out of her purse and letting you into the apartment.

Within seconds of the door shutting behind you, Larissa’s lips were on yours. You let out a groan as she pressed you into the door, simultaneously shrugging off her coat and tossing it to the floor. Her hands trailed down your sides, cupping your ass and lifting you off the floor to pin you against the door.

Larissa’s tongue slid against the seam of your lips, coaxing a moan from your throat as you granted her access to explore your mouth. Your entire body was ablaze as she began to pepper your jaw and throat with kisses, moving her lips to your pulse point and grazing her teeth over your sensitive skin.

“Larissa, please,” you whined, the ache between your legs becoming too much. You needed her, you’d needed her since you’d first had her nearly a week ago, and the ache was finally becoming too much to bear.

“So eager.” You could feel the ghost of a smirk against your throat as Larissa carried you effortlessly back through an open doorway, nipping and sucking at the column of your throat. Larissa placed you on her bed and hovered over you, lips connecting with every inch of bare skin she could reach, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake.

Her fingers worked at the buttons of your blouse, expertly ridding you of the garment within seconds. Your bra came next and then her mouth was on your breasts, tongue working your nipples into hard peaks as she drew breathy moans from your throat.

Your skirt joined the rest of your clothes on the floor and Larissa trailed open-mouthed kisses down your torso, biting little marks to remember the night by. You yelped when she bit down on the inside of your thigh, arousal leaking out of your core. 

Finally, Larissa’s tongue made contact with your cunt, licking a path up your folds to your clit, circling it once, twice. The scent of your arousal hung heavy in the air, spurring her on as she lapped at your pussy.

“Does this feel good, Y/N?” You could only whimper in response, fingers tangled in the sheets behind you to steady yourself. You were embarrassingly close already, simply from the effect of the woman’s intoxicating presence.

“You taste absolutely divine, my darling,” Larissa hummed, sucking your clit as her fingers teased your entrance.

“P-please,” you whimpered, thighs twitching as you brought your hands to Larissa’s hair, fingers tangling in her blonde tresses.

“Please what?” The vibrations of Larissa’s lips against your pussy were driving you wild with need.

“I’m so close…” Larissa plunged her fingers into your cunt and you bucked your hips up in time to meet her thrusts. Your walls began to clench around her fingers as you reached your first orgasm, your moans increasing in volume.

Your gaze wandered down, eyes meeting Larissa’s, and the sight was what made the coil behind your navel snap. Her pupils were blown so wide there was not a sliver of sapphire visible, her cheeks were dusted pink, her hair was coming out of its elegant updo, curls falling messily across her forehead.

Larissa lapped up the juices leaking out of your core as you rode out your high, planting soothing kisses along the insides of your thighs and cleaning you up while you steadied your breathing. 

She moved up your body, connecting your lips in a bruising kiss so that you could taste yourself on her tongue, swallowing your moan.

Larissa pulled back to look at you, the insatiable hunger in her eyes setting a fire ablaze inside of you.

“Y/N, can you be a good girl for me?” Your thighs clenched together with want and you nodded fervently. There it was again - good girl - of course you would be, you would be anything for her.

Larissa slid off to the side of the bed and tugged at the zipper of her dress, revealing the smooth expanse of her back, dotted with pale freckles. She slid the dress farther down, until it reached the swell of her ass, then allowed it to fall to the floor. 

To your absolute delight she’d forgone a bra, and as she turned to face you your breath hitched in your chest, struck by the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. The peaks of her nipples, hardened by a chill in the air; the slight swell of her stomach, disappearing into red lacy panties; the freckles on her shoulders, sprawled out like constellations.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, secretly a bit pleased at yourself with the hint of a blush you were able to produce on the apple’s of Larissa’s cheeks.

“My darling girl,” she cooed sweetly, a contrast to the devious smirk playing upon her lips. “Do you remember what I was telling you earlier? About me being a shapeshifter?”

You nodded slowly, brows furrowing, unsure where the woman was going with this. 

“I am able to shift… certain parts of myself.” Your mind, still a bit hazy from your first orgasm, raced in an attempt to compute what she was saying. Larissa towered over you, waiting patiently until - finally - your eyes widened as comprehension dawned on your face. 

“I would so like to take you tonight, my dear,” Larissa’s voice was low and sultry and you could only nod eagerly. You felt your heart begin to race, heat pooling between your legs at her proposal. She smirked down at you with kiss-swollen lips, lipstick smudged, and you knew you were done for.

Larissa crawled on top of you, planting sloppy, heated kisses along your jaw. It was then that you felt it - an unfamiliar bulge, pressing insistently against your leg through the lace of Larissa’s underwear. 

“You make me so hard,” she groaned. You moaned involuntarily as the older woman began to grind against your thigh, rubbing her bulge against your sensitive skin. Your skin buzzed with electricity, all the blood in your body seemingly rushing straight to your cunt. You needed her inside you.

Larissa pushed herself up to discard her panties, her full length now on display, standing to attention. Your pupils dilated as you stared at her, transfixed, drool pooling in your mouth. You dropped your thighs open, revealing your dripping sex, and Larissa chuckled at your neediness.

“My beautiful girl, so ready for me.” Larissa gazed down at you fondly, cupping your cheek with her hand. She traced your lower lip with her thumb, letting out a moan as you sucked it into your mouth.

“Lay back,” she instructed, and you did as you were told, chest heaving as Larissa crawled on top of you, pressing her body into yours, her skin hot to the touch. She reached a hand between the two of you to grasp her cock and drag the tip up your slit, whimpering at the sensation.

You bucked your hips up, whining needily and fisting at the sheets.

“Darling,” Larissa whispered, her breath hot on the shell of your ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll forget your own name.”

Your own breath hitched in your chest as she finally pushed inside of you, letting out a guttural moan as your warm pussy clenched around her length.

She paused for a moment to allow you to get used to the sensation of being filled. “Is this alright?”

“Mhmm. It’s good.” You shifted your hips, watching carefully as Larissa’s eyelids fluttered shut, eyelashes brushing against flushed cheekbones. “How does it feel for you?”

Larissa smiled sweetly, opening her eyes and gazing down at you as a light blush spread across her cheeks. “It feels amazing.” Her expression turned wistful. “No one’s ever asked me that.”

It was something you couldn’t fathom, and with some effort due to your height difference and the position, you reached up to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, fingertips brushing lovingly against her jaw as if trying to convey an apology for every idiot who had ever slept with her and not cared for her pleasure.

You rocked your hips a bit, causing Larissa to shift above you. “May I?” You nodded, teeth sinking into your lip as she began to slide out of you, then back in, slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to her.

Larissa found a steady rhythm inside of you, rocking her hips against yours, stretching you out with every thrust. She seemed to hit every nerve-ending inside of you, knowing exactly how to move her hips to have you writhing in pleasure beneath her. 

Your hands clung to the sheets beneath you, fingers twisting so hard at the fabric that you might rip it. Larissa’s hands settled on your waist, steadying herself so she could pick up her pace. You stared, enraptured, her tits bouncing as she pounded into you.

Larissa leaned over you so that she could press a searing kiss to your lips as her hands came to rest next to your head.

“Tell me what you want,” Larissa cooed, continuing her brutal pace inside your cunt.

“Oh- fuck, Rissa, use me.”

Larissa’s moans became filthier by the minute and you could tell, somewhere behind the hazy cloud of your impending orgasm, that she must be close too by the way the snapping of her hips was becoming more and more erratic, the way her breath was coming out in short puffs, the way her hand that she used to steady herself next to your head twisted at the sheets with white-knuckled desperation.

“Be a good girl for me and come with me, darling,” Larissa breathed, groaning as she thrusted into you, on the verge of climax.

You came first, your senses flooding with delight as you reached your peak. It was pure ecstasy, feeling your walls clench around Larissa’s cock. You could hear the older woman’s own cry above you and you forced your eyes to stay open so you could watch her, her face contorted with pleasure above you; eyes screwed shut, jaw slack. 

Larissa slid out of you carefully, chuckling as you mewled pathetically at the sudden feeling of emptiness. She slumped onto the mattress beside you, completely spent, slipping her arm under your torso to pull you into a soft embrace. With her body pressed against yours, skin to skin, you could feel that she’d shifted back again.

“That was… wow,” you sighed, nuzzling into Larissa’s chest. She laughed, a melodious sound that you immediately committed to memory.

“It was indeed.” She pressed her lips to yours in an affectionate, loving kiss. “You did so well for me, love,” she murmured, fingertips skating across the skin of your back in soothing patterns. You breathed in her scent, allowing it to wash over you and calm your still racing heart.

“I can drive you home but-” Larissa saw the slight pout of your lower lip and grinned, “but I would love it if you’d stay the night. Perhaps I could entice you with breakfast in bed?”

You smiled up at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “You could entice me with you. I would love to stay the night.”

Larissa settled back against the pillows, pulling you on top of her, relishing the contact with your bare skin. She pressed her lips to your forehead, watching your eyes flutter closed and listening intently as your breathing slowed before allowing herself to succumb to sleep, a peaceful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. 

x

tags: @enchantressb @rainbow-hedgehog

[idabbleincrazy]

Bad Ideas Have Consequences

Fandom: Bones

Rating: M

Pairing: Sweetooth

Word Count: 1300

Warnings: episode fic, kissing, heavy petting, brief discussion of sexuality, some angst

Summary: set during episode 8x02, after the gun range scene but before Bones talks to Sweets. A follow up to Bad Idea.

A/N: hopefully this'll help unblock the muse for the main fic. @leatafandom have some more of this mess 😅

Squares Filled: Makeout session (@mfbingo )

Lance opened the door on the second urgent knock, stepping back to let Booth in, surprised to see the man at his apartment so soon after Dr. Brennan's return. 

"Booth, are you alright?"

"No, you know what, Sweets, I'm not alright." Booth turned to face the young psychologist as they stood in the center of the small living room. "It wasn't just Bones making breakfast, and losing those three months with her and Christine, that has been pushing a wedge between me and her, and making me so damn angry. It's us, too. It's that night, and that kiss, and these feelings that just won't stop, won't let things be the way they were before."

Booth slumped down on the couch and Sweets carefully sat down beside him, eyeing him warily. 

"It's been two months since that night, and you haven't wanted to talk about it in all this time. Do you want to, now? Can you confront what happened between us?"

"I-I don't know. I've already gone through the whole panic thing, y'know? Years ago. It's still hard for me to accept that this is what I am, that these feelings are a part of me and it doesn't make me a bad person. I've faced that. This is…this is different. This isn't just me liking a guy, this is me having deep feelings for someone else when I'm already in a relationship with someone I love, and not wanting to have to choose."

"Oh-kay, so that's a yes on the confrontation. Booth, you need to tell her this. Yes, Dr. Brennan ran off with your daughter, and left you in the dark for three months, but it was for justifiable reasons, and she deserves to know what happened. Especially if you aren't in an open relationship. If you don't, you're just going to keep being angry with yourself over it, and in turn, with Dr. Brennan."

"I know, I know, and I want to tell her, I just don't know how. And I don't know where it goes from there. I can't just push those feelings for you back down into that box I'd locked them up in before. God, I just want to be selfish for once, you know? I want you, and her, and I want there to be an us. I don't want to have to choose again." 

"Would it help you if I explained it all to her?"

"No, no, it's gotta come from me. I owe her that."

"Okay, well, do you want me to at least be there with you when you tell her? Help…guide the conversation?" Sweets felt a compelling urge to take Booth's hand in his, wanting to comfort the older agent, but was unsure how welcome the gesture would be. "Look, Booth, I know you're worried about how Dr. Brennan will react, but I don't think there'll be a problem. You know she's always been open to the idea of polyamory, both in her own sexual practices and in her study of anthropology." 

"I know. And that's part of the problem. I gave her such hell for that, when she was seeing two guys at the same time, and we were just partners then. How's that gonna look now that we're a family? We share a daughter, we live together. This is so much more than someone just playing the field."

"She loves you, Booth. She'll understand."

"How? I barely understand it myself. It took years for me to accept this part of myself, and even then, I still fought to keep my feelings pushed down." Booth shifted to face Sweets, a look of pained longing in his eyes. "I know I shouldn't do this, but I can't wait any longer…"

Before Sweets could question him, Booth leaned forward and pressed his lips to the unsuspecting psychologist's, his hand coming up to cup the side of his face as he pushed him back against the couch cushions. Blinking away his surprise, Sweets responded to the kiss, letting his eyes flutter shut. His lips parted to Booth's tongue as it traced tentatively along the bottom lip, seeking entrance. 

Sweets raised his arms to encircle the broad expanse of Booth's back, fingers clutching at his suit jacket as the kiss deepened. Despite all the conflicting, confusing thoughts and emotions swirling around inside his head and in his heart, he eagerly welcomed the tongue that slid over his own. In the two months since that first kiss, Sweets had kept ruminating on how it had felt to finally have Booth's mouth on his. For years he had repressed feelings for the older man, knowing he and Dr. Brennan were meant for each other, and heavily doubting Booth would ever feel attraction towards another man, let alone for that attraction to supersede his obvious love for the forensic anthropologist. He had felt no small amount of guilt about enjoying the kiss so much, but had reveled in it nevertheless. 

This second kiss was wholly different, and he regretted that their first had been tinged with the bitter taste of whiskey and sadness. This one was unadulterated by the pain of abandonment, purely driven by longing and need, and it was glorious. His first true taste of Seeley Booth. Booth's free hand wound around his waist and pulled him closer, their chests pressed together as the kiss continued on. Sweets let out a soft moan of arousal, the sound smothered by Booth's eager tongue as it explored his mouth. 

Thrusting his hips up, he felt a hardness matching his own growing erection pressing into his thigh. The knowledge that the older agent was just as affected by their making out as he was pulled a deep groan from his lips. He broke the kiss, slightly breathless, and let his head loll against the back of the couch as he relished the feeling of Booth's body pressed against his. Another groan sounded from his throat as Booth trailed a line of kisses along his jaw and down the column of his neck.

"Oh, God, Booth…we shouldn't…fuck, we can't do this. Not now."

"I know…," Booth grunted out between nips to the skin along the curve of his shoulder, his hand pulling Sweets' collar aside to bare undiscovered flesh. "Just…want you, Sweets…wanted you for so long. Feels right."

"It-it does, but, ahh, it shouldn't be like this. Brennan…she needs to know, needs to be okay with us, be included. It's not fair to her." 

Booth smothered a defeated groan against Sweets' collarbone before pulling away.

"No, I know, you're right. Look, I'm sorry for getting carried away like that."

Sweets slid to the side, putting some much needed space between them and adjusting himself. It was taking all his strength not to pull Booth back to him and finish what they started, damn the consequences. 

"Don't be, it wasn't unwelcomed, just…ill-timed. We both have others we need to consider before we just go jumping into things. I need to reevaluate things with Daisy, you have to tell Dr. B how you feel. Until then, whatever this is between us, can't go any further than it already has."

"I'll talk to her when she gets home tonight." Booth stood up from the couch, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "Thanks for this, though, and for not being too heavy with the psychobabble. I just…I've wanted to kiss you again since I walked out of your bedroom that morning, and I needed to get that out of my system."

Sweets stared up at him with an understanding grin.

"Go home, Booth. Tell her. And when the two of you are ready, just give me a call."

He watched as Booth walked out the door, wondering how long it would be until that call was made.

[bruisingknees]

Knokke Off ep 1 ENG transcript

Episode 1: Welcome to Knokke, bitch!

Eleonore: Alex? Alex! Alex? Alex? Hey, Alex! Hey, dear. I’m here. Alex, come on! Did you take something?!

Alex: I didn’t take anything, no.

E: Then why did I have to come here straight away?

A: They know.

E: What do they know?

?: Alex?! Alex?!

KNOKKE OFF

[A couple of weeks earlier]

A: Stay.

Earphones: Take some time for a meditative run. In a place where you can run in peace, and where you can run back and forth at least a couple of meters. On a meditative run you will focus on the act of running itself, not on where you’re running to. It’s about being present for every step, for every breath. You’ll focus on every step of your foot, your left, and back to your right. You will notice your breathing. If there are other objects or impressions that come into your field of consciousness […]

Melissa [Dutch accent]: Oh, sure, grandpa. What are you doing?! Are you just going to…

Earphones: […] you don’t have to pay them any special mind.

M: I’m not going to wait for you, grandpa! You should’ve thought about this before!

Daan [Dutch accent]: What was that?

M: A way too expensive car.

Earphones: You can just continue running. And to end this exercise, come to a stop.

Louise’s sister: Dad, left or right?

[Louise’s mom speaking French]

Louise’s dad: But you already have a dress?

Sister: I want another one. And?

Louise: 18,5 in one hour and twenty minutes.

Sister: Great job.

Mom [in French]: You don’t understand! My daughter… [in Dutch:] Can you grab a quick shower, baby? [In French] My daughter, the bride, will be the only one dressed in white. Right, and the guests will all be dressed in different colors. Okay, there we go, that’s right. Okay. So…

Dad: Bye.

L: See you tonight.

Mom [in French]: No, no.

Mom: Your pills.

L: Yeah.

Mom: Don’t forget them, okay?

L: I won’t.

Camping lady [Dutch accent]: Thank you, m’am. That’ll be 720 € please.

M: One hundred, two hundred, three hundred, four, five, six… Daan, do you have 120 € for your mom?

D: No.

M: I just have to grab some from the car.

Camping lady: Okay. Come here a sec, boy. I’m only telling you this once. At the first sign of any problems, I’m throwing you out.

D: M’am, I don’t want to be on this fucking campground at all. So don’t worry about it.

M: And 120.

Camping lady: Okay, thank you. Well, Mrs. Van Lieshout, then I’ll just wish you a pleasant stay here at Cadzand-Bad.*

M: I’m sure we’ll enjoy it. Thank you.

D: Mrs. Van Lieshout?

M: Yeah. What a weird bitch, right?

 E: Of course we’ll be coming over later.

Christine [Dutch accent]: Great. Margaux is just labeling the Fontana. Patrick is still interested, right?

E: Yes. 99 % sure. He just wants to see it in real life.

C: Of course. See you later. Bye, bye, babe.

E: Good morning.

A: Good morning.

E: Olivia? Hello?!

Olivia: Weren’t you going to the hairdresser?

E: What was that?

O: Weren’t you going to the hairdresser?

E: Oh, yeah, but all of a sudden I didn’t feel like it anymore. I went to the bakery.

O: Did you bring cupcakes?

E: Yes. And mini pastries. Where’s daddy?

O: I don’t know.

E: Where’s dad? And nanny Isabelle?

A: Yeah, I obviously don’t know.

E: Patrick?! Pa- Yeah, come on. I know she’s in here!

Patrick: What?

E: Isabelle? Come here a sec, come. I know you’re in here. Isabelle? Isabelle? Isabelle?!

A: Mom, she’s here.

Isabelle: M’am?

E: I’ve had it up to here with you, Isabelle. I would really like for you to pack your stuff.

I: I’m sorry, but what did I…?

E: Didn’t you hear me, or what?

A: Please.

E: Alex. I never want to see you again.

I: But, m’am… Sir, please.

P: You heard my wife.

 M: So, what do you think?

D: It’s…

M: Super nice, right?

D: Yeah.

M: Look, a little grill. Look. The bathroom’s pretty big! It’s kind of a nice shower! Oh, this room is even bigger! This is super relaxed! Look at this, a mirror, a little desk. You can sit here with your photography thing and stuff. Hey, Daan. Are you out of money?

D: No, no. It’s just that someone still owes me 300 €.

 A: Mom. Listen…

E: I don’t want to hear it. I really don’t.

 D: Okay, mom, I’m leaving.

M: Good luck! Do you have everything? Your phone?

D: Yeah.

M: Yeah?

D: Yeah. Bye, mom.

M: Bye.

 D: Hey, can I ask you a question?

Waitress: Wait a minute.

A: I’m telling you, Matti, could be better!

Matti: I get it, but I’m just telling you there’s a lot involved with this. It’s not just opening some bar. You need a whole concept. You have to think about it!

A: You don’t necessarily need to come up with something new? You could just take the Casino Club and copy that. Just make it better, fancier, more expensive…

M: Fancier and more expensive than the Casino Club?!

A: And just make it fucking hot, man, you know? Designer sex, right?  

M: Designer sex…

A: What about the title: Crazy Lulu?

?: Crazy Loulou? Sorry, ‘Lex, no.

Margeaux: Loulou? Isn’t that that cheap perfume?

A: Not like the fucking perfume, you write it with two u’s, but you pronounce it…

?: Lulu?

A: Not lulu. You write it with the u’s but you pronounce it like oo. Lulu.

?: Exactly, Lulu.

M: Lulu.

?: Lulu.

M: Aren’t those cookies?

A: Matti, for real, if you don’t have anything to contribute to the conversation, just keep it shut.

M: No, but seriously. Those bears and letters. In this big bag? We have those at home.

L: Lulu? Isn’t that a play?

A: Ah. There we go. A play. About a lesbian high-end whore during the Jack the Ripper era.

L: That’s a little simplified.

A: Matti has to be able to follow as well, you know, baby?

M: And who are you, our great play lover?

Waitress: Follow me.

A: Don’t stare like that.

L: What?

A: Hey.

L: What?

 Waitress: Jacques? The student.

D: Hey, good morning.

Jacques: About time, don’t you think? Are you scared they’re going to steal it?

D: No, I just forgot my bike lock.

J: Follow me. Hospitality experience: none. Seventeen?

D: Sorry.

J: Name.

D: Daan.

J: Last name.

D: Paroty.

J: What?

D: Paroty.

J: Buroni. Buroni… Surinamese?**

D: Half. Racist?

J: Half. Here, you can fill out the rest at home, and then you can start earning some money. I’ll go grab your uniform.

D: Uniform?

 M: I just don’t think anyone’s waiting for a titty bar here in Knokke.

A: Please! It’s not a titty bar, dude!

M: But that’s what it comes down to!

A: No! You don’t know jack shit about doing business, do you?

M: More than you’d think.

A: Aren’t they teaching you this at that Business school? Aside from playing some American football and rugby.

M: Oh! Hockey, not rugby!

A: Sorry.

?: Nice, nice. Yummy.

J: Okay, on top of your head. And now you yell.

D: Boules de Berlin.

J: Louder, Daan. People won’t hear at that volume.

D: Boules de Berlin!

A: Do you still think he’s interesting now?

D: Boules de Berlin!

J: Louder!

L: He’s working for his money.

D: Fresh balls. Boules de Berlin.

J: Fresh balls!

D: Boules de Berlin!

J: Boules de Berlin!

M: Where did they find this clown? He’s new.

?: I wouldn’t mind a taste of his balls.

?: I get it.

J: And we’re off. There you go.

?: Good afternoon.

D: Hey.

Mar: Oh… that’s not for me… These Boules.

?: I’ve never tried them.

Mar: My clothes will be drenched in cream.

D: How many do you want?

A: What’s your name?

D: Daan.

A: You don’t really look like a Daan.

D: I get that a lot.

A: Your box is in a dangerous spot, buddy.

D: No, it’s okay, man. There you go.

Mar: Come on, that’s sad.

A: Sorry.

?: Come on.

A: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.

D: It’s okay. It’s okay. Here you go.

A: Do you want one as well…? Oh, I just wanted to ask… I mean. Sorry, I thought… Sorry. I told him, that wasn’t a good spot for the box. [Imitating a Dutch accent:] “No, man, it’s totally fine!”

?: And that on his fist day. What’s Jacques going to say about that?

?: Hey! Hey, what the fuck?!

?: Are you crazy?!

D: No, it’s fine.

?: We got that [on film].

?: What the fuck, dude?

?: Alex, are you okay?

?: Are you okay?

A: I’m okay, I’m okay.

M: Did you lose it [his tooth]?

?: Did you get that [on film]?

J: Hey, what’s going on here?

A: Daan dropped his box of balls, man.

J: On your face?! Come, you, follow me. Come on.

?: Are we going to continue working?

J: Everything is okay, people. Accidents happen.

A: Is he still there?

L: I’m going to the bathroom.

 Boy: Mommy! Mommy!

Man: Move back.

 D: Hey, Jacques. You’re not going to fire the kid, right?

J: Too late, Alex. Already did.

D: You’re not a racist, right, Jacques?

J: What do you think?

D: It doesn’t matter what I think. It matters what people are going to think, buddy.

J: That’s up to the people.

 D: Fucking Knokke, fuck.

Anouk: Good vacation?

D: Knokke. Arrogant, rich assholes.

A: You’ll see more of those here. Anouk.

D: Daan.

A: Daan. And what else? So I can give you a follow. Us tokkies*** have to band together.

D: Paroty. Is that a thing? Brown tokkies?

A: Yeah. They’re the worst, right?

D: True.

A: Are you okay?

D: Sorry, I was just looking at your… shirt. Casino Club. What’s that?

A: It’s a night club in Knokke. Full of rich, arrogant assholes.

D: Fun.

A: It pays well.

D: I can tell. Nice iPhone.

A: Want to buy it from me?

D: If I wanted an iPhone I’d steal one myself.

A: Daan. Do you develop your photos yourself?

D: No, no. I bring them to the store.

A: I’d love to see them. Especially the ones of me. From this afternoon, in the sun. I have to get going, Daan. You can keep that.

M: Hey.

D: Hey.

M: Oh! Wait. Before I forget… [Spanish] Un, dos, tres.

D: How did you get this?!

M: Stole an electric bike.

D: Sure.

M: I borrowed it from an old friend.

D: Since when do you have friends?

M: I was young once. I have friends too.

D: Really?

M: Daan, how was work? Daan?

D: Like this.

M: Will you be sleeping there?

D: Yeah.

M: On that one?

D: Okay?

M: Yes, okay. Yes. Uhm, how was work?

D: Yes, uhm, good. Nice boss.

M: Okay. Bye.

D: Good luck.

?: Oh, look here!

?: Hey. How are you?

Grandma: Hi baby.

E: Hi, mom.

 M: I’ve told you once and I’ll keep telling you. I just think Crazy Lulu is a ridiculous name. It’s just a ridiculous name.

A: Are you drinking two glasses?

M: I’m thirsty, aren’t I?

A: Just make sure you’re not throwing up on my shoes later, buddy. I still remember last time. I haven’t forgotten! There’s still chunks on my shoes!

Mar: I was wearing sandals and it also got –

Louise’s mom: Hey, I heard your nanny quit?

E: Yeah, can you believe that?!

Mom: Yeah, Olivia told me.

E: From one day to the next she just left, without saying a word. Really.

Mom: Yeah?

E: Anyway, I shouldn’t say anything cause she’s going to study to be a nurse, so.

Mom: But come on, so selfish!

L: Your dad’s here.

P: Hey, Daniel. I’ll be with you in a moment.

E: There he is.

P: Don’t forget.

Mom: Hey, hello, Patrick.

C: Patrick, so nice of you to come!

P: Hey. Show me!

C: Yes.

?: Will it take long before…

A: Hey. Your mom is selling my dad that Fontana?

Mar: Uhu.

M: Fontana?

L: Together with Max Baumann he was one of the most important minimalists.

A: The white canvas with the rips.

M: That’s it? Those three rips?

Mar: That’s why it’s a minimalist.

M: It’s definitely the smalles piece here.

P: It’s beautiful. Really.

E: Yeah, it’s is.

M: And how much are they asking for it?

Mar: Mom is asking 1.7 million.

M: 1.7 million? For three rips?

L: I’d spend it better.

M: You’d open a titty bar, wouldn’t you, Alex? Crazy Lulu. Or have you found a better name yet?

P: Can we get down to the business side of things? Before we’re too drunk.

C: Follow me.

Mar: I think they’ve sealed the deal.

M: 1.7 million. I’d know what to do with that kind of money. Right, Victor? I’d buy a nice yacht in Saint-Tropez.

A: I’m gonna take a leak.

[Anouk: now you can look your fill]

C: Well, the Fontana is officially yours!

C: The guests are waiting.

P: Let the guests wait.

C: Oh, yes!

E: Where is he? It’s her last number. I’m going to have a look.

 E: It’s Olivia’s last song. Where’s dad? Hm? What?

A: Mom.

E: What?

C: Well, congratulations!

E: It’s Olivia’s last song! She’s almost done.

P: This had to be signed, right?

E: Great.

Louise’s mom: Did it go through?

E: Yeah, it’s done.

P: Beautiful, little olive. Amazing, honey. Come on, take a bow.

E: Bravo!

C: So talented.

E: She’s amazing.

C: I’d enter her in the Queen Elisabeth competition.****

E: She’s better than her teacher. I mean, he tells us that himself. Chopin, Debussy… Much better.

C: I’m going to…

Louise’ mom: Great atmosphere, Christine! Truly! I won’t be stay for too long. Honey, tomorrow?

E: Yes, 10 at Natan’s.

Louise’ mom: For Emilie’s wedding.

P: You think I could pop by soon?

Louise’ dad: For a shot?

P: It’s been almost three months now.

Louise’ dad: Okay. Oh, you’re kidding. It’s like they can smell it. Emergency at the hospital.

P: The same old, same old?

Louise’ dad: Yeah. Okay.

P: You go ahead.

Louise’ dad: Honey, there’s an emergency case. What?

Louise’ mom: At the hospital?

Louise’ dad: Yeah. Honey, emergency.

Louise’ mom: Congratulations!

P: Thank you.

A: Did your dad leave?

L: Dad always has an emergency case if he’s not having fun somewhere. Anyway…

A: I’ve had it as well with this place, actually.

L: We did what we had to do.

D: Come on, dude, I’ve listened to enough piano.

Mar: Thank you.

D: Hey, good evening.

Security: Good evening. Do you have an invite?

D: Yes. Anouk invited me.

Security: Anouk? Doesn’t ring a bell.

D: No? Short lady, black hair, lots of tattoos?

A: Thomas!

Security: Good evening.

All: Good evening.

D: Maybe she’s inside. She’ll recognize me when she sees me.

Security: No, dude.

D: Hey. He’s with us.

Security: Have fun.

D: Thank you.

A: Welcome to Knokke, bitch.

A: Six glasses, Anouk.

?: Champagne!

L: There’s your flame.

A: I think she’s so fucking hot.

An: Hey, Daan.

D: Hey.

An: Are these those rich assholes? Okay.

A: What the fuck?! Don’t be so shy!

A: You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?

L: Who?

A: I saw you looking.

L: Who?

A: You know who.

L: You’re crazy.

A: You make me crazy.

D: Hey, mom. I’ll be out all night. I’ll be home tomorrow morning.

L: Daan!

A: Daan, come dude!

L: Alex, no.

?: Come on, join us.

Notes:

Daan and his mom Melissa are Dutch, as is Margaux’s mom Christine. (Margeaux herself didn’t have a particularly Dutch sounding accent to me.) 

* Cadzand-Bad is in The Netherlands, about 10km from Knokke (Belgium)

**  There’s a colonial history between The Netherlands and Suriname https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suriname

*** Tokkie: The epithet tokkie is used in the Netherlands as a pejorative noun for lower-class people who often are seen as likely to engage in anti-social behaviour, similar to the English chav, the Scottish ned, the South African zef and the Australian bogan.

**** The Queen Elisabeth Competition is an international competition for career-starting musicians held in Brussels. The competition is named after Queen Elisabeth of Belgium (1876–1965). It is a competition for classical violinists (from 1937 to present), pianists (1938 to present), singers (1988 to present) and cellists (2017 to present).

[nuagederose]

As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Two: California Dreamin’

ao3 link

Christine walked out of the classroom with a warm feeling embedded in her face and a good feeling in her chest. It would be some time before she could find a moment to herself there in her round of study hall in the front part of the library with the notes that she had to take and catch up on, especially when the thought of getting together with him for some lunch seemed like such a decadent dream to her. Her heart fluttered a bit when she strode up to the double front doors of the study hall itself and she expected to see him there. His voice was so warm and round, and it stayed with her even well after the fact. 

It seemed a bit strange that he would ask her to lunch, of all the students in that classroom, and especially since he was the substitute teacher as well. But nevertheless, she knew that she had a little date with the sub, and yet, there was simply no way that she could pay any attention to her studies in the meantime. 

She merely wished it could be one o’clock at that point, and she was eager to have all that she had to do there over the course of that hour completed at the snap of her fingers. 

She glanced up at the ceiling overhead: it was a rather large, spacious room with a series of arch-shaped alcoves from the doorway back towards the bay window on the other side. She imagined herself and Alex nestled up together over there with a pair of books to read and a pile of mischief at the helm. It was all fantasy at that very moment, but she had hope that there was something behind it. That fantasy came to her for a reason, and such that she thought about writing it down in the back of her journal: too many times she would envision something happening and then when she returned to it to address it, it had escaped her mind. 

She sauntered her way past the rows of bookshelves on the left side of the room, all the way towards the bay window and the last table at the very end. She passed Eric there at the card catalogue right next to the second table up from her: it was right then she took a glimpse over her shoulder at him and the long smooth inky black hair down to the middle of his back. He turned his attention towards her as she walked by him: a fleeting glimpse, but she was able to make out the shape of his nose as well as the softness of his features. 

“Hey, Mr. Crow—” she overheard him say in a hushed voice, even though there weren’t a lot of people in there with them. 

Christine continued to the table, and she rested her bag down on the surface before her. Her heart fluttered once again as he burst into her mind yet again. She gazed up at the clock on the wall over the doorway: ten o’clock in the morning. But then again, there was all the time she could ever find for herself for the time being. Not to waste any moment whatsoever, she took her binder out of hiding and opened the loose-leaf pages to the one spot with her Cornell notes for history. 

Her teacher Mr. Crow happened to stand right there before her in conversation with Eric about something, and she knew that she would have to hand in those notes for the few points of extra credit that she could vouch for during the one class that she struggled with. He was a tall wiry man with a sensible haircut and little half-moon glasses, and yet, he lacked the looseness that Alex had. He was the kind of man who would surprise everyone with mentions of older music, and to the point that Christine wondered if he did in fact have his fingers in the world of music like Alex. 

She held her pencil in hand and scanned the page before her for anything to tip off her train of thought from the last class period. 

It was much like all those days back in high school where she took those exact notes for her old history class, and she often wrote in a keyword at the last bullet point before the class period was finished so she could remember where she had left off when she picked them up again to study for the next session, but this time around, she gazed at the word there at the bottom of the page, and she wished that she had had a little more time during that last period. Nothing more than a scribble there on the smooth blue line at the base of the paper. 

There was also a time in high school where she had hidden her body away from the crowd of eyes all around her, and she never could find the right words to talk about the problem, either. The feeling that she simply could not suffice as she was at that very moment. There always had to be something behind her, something to show everyone that she meant business and she had the time and the resources at her fingertips, and she could do it if someone asked her to do so. There always had to be a note of some kind, a bit of proof of some kind, an explanation, a reason to measure up and be there with everyone else. Part of why she struggled with school as much as she did was the feeling that she could never measure up, even with as much as she wanted to measure up to the best. 

She worked hard, and she could feel the strains of it all in her body, especially as she leaned back in the chair and her spine cracked a bit. She took a glimpse down to her body, to the little roll around her waist as well as the width of her thighs. She never became fat or overly heavy, but she could feel the weight on her body most days: this was one of them. 

One of the reasons why she remained so quiet in class was the fact that she could feel everyone staring at her body, even though they had known her by her heavier self rather than what resided in the past. 

She knew that she would have to tell Alex about her past at some point, and yet, she lacked the feeling of comfort about it in the meantime. She tucked her elbows closer into her body as if to hide her curves even while she sat down there in the chair. 

The memories were still fresh with her, even though she had long since begun her recovery. They remained there still fully intact just underneath the surface. 

She never ran away from anything ever: she knew that she would have to face the monsters in the closet soon enough. She did when she began the whole process— 

“Christine?” 

She raised her gaze to Eric right there at the other side of the table with his lips ever so slightly parted as if he was taken aback by something. 

“Yeah?” she asked him as she broke out of her train of thought. 

“Oh, nothing, I just thought something was wrong,” he said to her with a shake of his head and a little wave of his hand. “You looked like something was bothering you.” 

She shook her head. “Nope. Just—thinking is all.” 

He cleared his throat and ran his stubby little fingers through his rich black hair. 

“Uh... is there someone sitting here?” he asked her with a gesture to the chair before him, to which she shook her head, and he tugged the chair out from underneath the table, and he took his seat there across from her. 

“You mentioned you were just thinking,” he recalled with a little wag of her finger to her, and she raised an eyebrow a bit at that. “I was just talking to Mr. Crow back there and he was just telling me about the next class period today. And—” He peered over his shoulder; Christine followed his gaze to the aisle between the tables, where Mr. Crow headed on to the doorway of the library. When he ducked out of there, Eric returned to her with his head bowed forth. 

“Okay, let’s get down to it,” he quipped right then. 

“No need to ruminate on memories, either,” she pointed out. Eric nibbled on his bottom lip as he lingered closer to her. 

“I really haven’t paid much attention to you before,” he admitted, and she raised both eyebrows at that. 

“What’s to know?” she asked him, taken aback. 

“Everything. What's your story?” 

Christine pursed her lips together at that, and Eric shook his head and leaned back in the chair right then. 

“I’m sorry, that was too much,” he stammered, and she frowned at that. 

“I don’t think it was,” she confessed to him with a slight chuckle. “Believe me, Eric, there’s a lot that’s happened to me in life where it was literally too much. What you did just there doesn’t even scratch the surface.” 

“Shhh!” the librarian behind them hissed right then. Eric nodded his head at her, and then he returned to Christine with a long, low whistle as if he had had life scared right out of him. 

“Well, I hope he can see you again,” he confessed to her in a near whisper. 

“Who, Alex?” He nodded his head at that. 

“I will,” she assured him, also in a near whisper. She opened her binder before her to a freshly completed page of notes. “I really will, Eric. I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that I will see him again.” 

“By the way, I think it’s interesting that he warmed up to you so quickly,” Eric noted with a little drumming of his fingers on the table’s surface right next to him. 

“Why is that?” Christine knitted her eyebrows together at that. 

“Nothing. I just—whenever I got to know someone else, they were never that quick with it. They usually took it a bit on the slow side...” He cleared his throat, and he brought a hand to his chest. Christine never moved a muscle as he straightened himself out. Nothing could deny the rich blush within his face, especially since it wasn’t that harsh of a cough, either. 

“Eric?” she asked him in a low voice, and he fanned the side of his neck. 

“Sorry, I—don’t really know where that came from.” He cleared his throat again, but it lacked anything of substance. Christine leaned back in the chair with her hands on either side of her binder there before her. 

“Eric,” she stated in a soft voice as the librarian had surfaced from behind the bookshelves again with a stern expression plastered on her face. Christine waved her finger at her to ensure everything was alright there at the table. 

“Hm?” he asked her, and the pinkish blush faded out from his face again. 

“Is there something you want to tell me?” 

There was a look in those big dark eyes, a look that she couldn’t exactly put her finger on, either. His bottom lip trembled, and his fingers flinched upon the table’s surface. He glanced off to the side again: the librarian had disappeared back behind the shelves and Mr. Crow had long gone as well. Eric returned to her again, that time with a little swallow and a bow of his head as if he was about to spill the beans to her. He then shook his head. 

“Never mind, it’s... it’s stupid,” he sputtered. 

“No, please tell me,” she insisted, and Eric shook his head. 

“I can’t. It really is that ridiculous. I feel bad for having imposed on your space from the very start of it all.” 

“What if I told you that we can keep it a secret?” she suggested, and he peered over his shoulder yet again: no one else was in there in the library with them. Christine leaned forward and folded her hands together over the top of the binder as if she was in a business meeting with him. “Really, I can keep a secret between us.” She lowered her voice down to a whisper at that point. “I can keep it close, under lock and key if you absolutely need me to do just that. I'll do it—I've always been a good secret-keeper.” 

He swallowed and cracked her a small smile. 

“If we keep it a secret between us, could you tell me a thing or two about yourself as well?” 

“Of course. That's what friends are for. I'll tell you about a secret on my end, and we’ll lock it all up, safe and sound.” 

Eric leaned forward so his face was right up in her own. 

“I had anorexia growing up,” she told him in a low whisper, and he raised his eyebrows at her. 

“My god, really?” 

“Yeah. I had a couple of friends who had anorexia, actually—one succumbed to it, the other got healthy and heavy like me.” 

Eric closed his eyes and shook his head. 

“I think you look great,” he quipped so fast to her, and she showed him a smile. 

“Thank you,” she told him. “I feel great, too—sometimes I feel heavy and round, but often, I feel like I'm more myself now than ever, like... I needed to put on all this weight.” 

He kept the smile plastered across his face at that. 

“Okay, now what’s the thing that you want to tell me?” she asked him, and he swallowed, perhaps from the nervous feeling within him. 

“Let’s run away to California together,” he suggested. “You and me. Together.” 

“You and me? What would we do in California?” 

“Lots of stuff,” he duly replied. “California's the Golden State. You could go from Yosemite to the Bay Area or from San Diego out to the desert within a couple of hours.” 

“And... why California, exactly? Why not a place like—Reno, Nevada, or Portland, Oregon? Or—hell—Hawai'i?” 

“You wanna run off to Hawai’i?” he chuckled, to which she shrugged her shoulders. 

“I’ve never been to Hawai’i,” she pointed out. 

“We could hang out on the beaches together,” he said with a little gyration of his head. 

“I imagine the beaches being all warm and whatnot,” she declared with a glimpse past him again. “I thought I saw Miss Stay Quiet Even Though There’s Nobody Else in Here at the Moment.” He snorted and chuckled at that, and then his expression turned serious yet again. 

“What were the other places you said? Reno and where else?” 

“Portland,” she recalled. “Oregon. I've only been to Reno a couple of times in the past, but I've never been to Portland, though. I hear it’s the best place to be if you’re anything along the lines of a freak.” 

“Freak like the saggy sub we just had,” he quipped. 

“He’s not saggy,” she said with a shake of her head. “I guarantee you—that man isn’t saggy. Just—from what I've seen during the class period.” 

Eric swallowed again: she noticed that his skin was smooth, almost delicate, in appearance, like the finest bone China to have ever emerged from out of the kiln. 

“He’s not saggy, and he’s not crusty, either,” she assured him as she picked up her pencil and leaned back in the chair. “He’s like—pleasantly round and plump.” Her eyes wandered over the rounded shape of his face. “Pleasantly full and tight and very smooth—like a heavier Jack Lalane.” 

“Jack Lalane with a streak of gray in his hair, too,” Eric added with a little raise of his eyebrows at her. 

“I am utterly mesmerized by that little streak of gray,” Christine confessed, and she gave her pencil a little twirl with her index and middle fingers. “It’s like a wisp of smoke.” She gazed at Eric, who ran his tongue along his bottom lip at the sound of that, such that the pinkish color of his skin enriched a bit. There was that look in his eyes yet again, the look that he was about to tell her something that he should not be telling her. 

“So... you really are going to see him again today,” he recalled in a low voice. 

“Yup, I meet him for lunch in a couple of hours. In the meantime, I don’t have much else going on for today.” 

Eric peered over his shoulder again: when he saw there was no one there, he returned to her for the umpteenth time. 

“You wanna go somewhere else? This librarian’s making me nervous.” 

“Well, I was just going to look over my notes and then go to ceramics,” she explained with a shrug. “I don’t really have anything else going on besides the little lunch date with Mr. Skolnick.” She peered past him again and frowned. “I do agree that that librarian sorta gives me the heebie-jeebies.” 

“Like she’s about to jump right out and strangle us with the phone cord if we talk too loudly,” he joked, and he leaned back and picked up his bag from the floor and slung it over his shoulder. Christine followed suit right behind him: they both padded out of the library together and into the hallway, where they were met with a low wall of noise from some students at the far end. 

“You still want to run away with me to the West Coast?” he asked her in a small voice. 

“We can allot time for it and get to come back, sure,” she said with a nod. 

“Of course, we get to come back,” he assured her with a slight smile. “We have our things here in New York, and we have our lives here as well.” He paused for a second. “At least, I hope we do.” 

“We do,” Christine assured him, and she took a small writing pad out from her purse as well as a pen. “Mind giving me your phone number?” 

“Uh, sure—I also want to give it to you because—you know. Studying and everything.” 

“Of course! Of course.” 

“You gotta be careful with it because it’s literally one digit away from the phone number to the hospital over on Long Island. You ever get wrong numbers?” 

“All the time,” she assured him with a shake of her head and a careful scrawl of his number on the paper. “All the damn time.” 

“When I got my phone number upon first moving here, I would get calls left and right for the hospital. You know—’we've got an ambulance coming with a burn victim!’ or ‘I’m coming with my nine-months pregnant wife who’s about to give birth any second!’, shit like that. And I'd just stand there and be like, ‘alright, I'll be waiting for ya.’” Christine gaped at him, and he chuckled at that. 

“So... I'll talk to you later?” she asked him as she looked over the paper again before she tucked it into her bag. 

“Yeah. And don’t worry about Colette and those other girls who sit behind us, either.” 

“Oh, I'm not worried about them at all,” Christine assured him. “I am taking their words with a pinch of salt, though. I can’t really say for sure if Alex really does like me in that way, and I wouldn’t know what it’d look like, either.” 

He gaped at her as if she had said the most shocking thing he had ever heard in his life. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” she said in a low voice, and with a clearing of her throat. “I wouldn’t lie to you.” 

As she stepped away from him, he watched her all the while. No tears to fall anymore, but she knew a shockwave when she saw it.

[pyladescares]

okay. im updating lou's story bc the dc hyperfixation is coming back!

Lou Sawyer's parents were 16 when they had Lou and Saoirse!!!! L and S (bc i cba) were identical twin girls, born to Jackie Sawyer (gotham born and raised) and Frank Mcintosh (an irish immigrant) Jackie and Frank met at a party shortly after Frank moved to america, and jackie fell in love bc.... hes a man w an accent, what was she supposed to do? they got together, and jackie got pregnant like. 4 months into dating.

both were immediately like 'FUCK NO' and broke up, jackie told her parents who made her carry the kids to term, but forced her to leave them at a local hospital :( (i hc gotham has the safe haven law) they were brought into foster care after being checked over, and was taken in by a decent (but SUPER RELIGIOUS) couple, but when the twins were interview one day, their social worker noticed they had... alot of extremist ideas? but bc that wasn't physically harming the kids, they were left there. (The foster parents were called Christine Ann Marie Wicklow and Kyle Wicklow, but thats not important to the story)

L and S were raised there, and adopted when they were 4! (fun fact, they were named by another irish immigrant who worked as a nurse in their local hospital, who became attached to the twins after losing her own a few months prior. just wanted to add that.)

They were raised in the Catholic church, and went to mass every sunday, went to a PROPER catholic school and everything. both twins internalised A LOT of harmful ideas, especially about gender and sexuality (the twins are also half brazilian, and inherited their mums tan skin which lead to some... comments from church goers.)

they grew up pretty normal- living in a rough part of the Narrows, but making friends with the neighbours! Mainly Cain, and older kid with a large burn scar on one side of his face, and Oscar, a little kid who was born blind. They all stuck together and had a very sibling like relationship.

When L and S were 13, they were hanging around an alley doing homework fairly late at night. They were minding their business when a random came up to them and started talking to them- the twins thought he was weird, and ignored him, but he eventually grabbed Lou's arm, and tried getting Lou to come with him.

Saoirse jumped into action and started yelling "Hey! Get your hands off her!" The guy looked startled and looked around, before grabbing Lou and trying to DRAG him away- Lou screamed.

Eventually the guy pulled a knife and slashed Lou's mouth- leaving him with his signature scar. Saoirse jumped the guy, pulling Lou away and trying to attack the guy- who ended up stabbing Saoirse to death.

The guy ran away and Lou was left cradling his sister's dead body, he kept trying to stop the bleeding, and when he felt the warmth slowly leave her body, he screamed.

Eventually, someone heard and called an ambulance. When the paramedics tried to bring Lou away, he kept crying and screaming that his sister was alive- that he knew it. But she was pronounced DOA. Lou was brought to the same hospital he was abandoned at, and went through extensive surgery. (also fun fact, the same nurse that named him ended up taking care of him while in a medically induced coma)

While Lou was recovering physically and mentally, he started acting out pretty severally- stealing, fighting, ect- and his adopted parents decided to leave him in the state's care again, claiming he 'was marked by the devil' and pretty heavily blamed him for his sister's death.

Around this time, Lou's meta powers started showing up. He started mimicking his parents voices, and once shifted his face into his father's mid fight. This was another reason he was abandoned again.

After being back in foster care, Lou kept running away, transitioned (ftm), changed his name, and eventually joined as a low-level member of Two-face's crew. He hid his age and name, pretending to be 18 and some guy named Frank Sawyer (in reference to his bio parents.)

Eventually, he rose through the ranks, and slowly people realised... maybe this guy aint actually 18.

Two-face saw this ambitious kid and was like "... fuck.... i gotta take him under my wing..."

What started as a mentorship, became a familial relationship. Two-face understood Lou's anger and guilt, and turned it into something productive- crime.

After Two-face unofficially adopted Lou, he brought in Cain and Oscar and took them under his wing too. In order of age (oldest to youngest), it's Cain, Lou, then Oscar. Lou became Poser, a shapeshifter (which included being able to mimic someone's powers for a short amount of time), Cain became Abel, just a regular human, and Oscar became Echo, with powers similar to Black Canary (but when he screams he's able to see anything- through walls, heat signatures, ect.)

all in all, they're a big happy family who do crime together!

Two-face and Bruce eventually reconcile, and they agree to lay off all the murder. Lou joins the outlaws with Red Hood, Arsenal, and Starfire. Cain and Oscar still work together, and Lou helps out on occasion.

[popradar]

Giant Robot Biennale 5 Now Open

Giant Robot Biennale 5 is now open at JANM in Little Tokyo.

— photos and story by Christine N. Ziemba

Move over Frieze. The fifth edition of the Giant Robot Biennale opened on Friday night (March 1) at the Japanese American National Museum (JANM) in L.A.'s Little Tokyo.

The art exhibition, which has recurred since 2007, was once again organized by JANM and Eric Nakamura, founder of Giant Robot — the former magazine and now shop and gallery on Sawtelle Boulevard.

Channeling the Giant Robot ethos, the Biennale highlights an array of Asian and Asian American alternative pop art and culture works, taking inspiration from skateboard culture, comic books, graphic design, and vinyl toy culture.

The opening night featured hundreds of guests waiting in winding lines — JANM is a smaller museum — to see works by artists Sean Chao, Felicia Chiao, Luke Chueh, Giorgiko, James Jean, Taylor Lee, Mike Shinoda, Rain Szeto, and Yoskay Yamamoto and others. 

The exhibition spreads across three rooms, with eye-catching works stretching end-to-end. Here are a few of our favorites.

Detail of a print forthcoming book cover for a Giant Robot 30th anniversary book by Felicia Chiao. It pays homage to the store, gallery and its famed Post-It Show | Photo: Christine N. Ziemba

This painting Far from Home 2 is an homage to artist Giorgiko's grandmother who spent the last two years of high school living in a Jewish American family’s home in Minnesota, earning her keep because her own family couldn't be kept together. | Photo: Christine N. Ziemba

These acrylics on canvas, You Are What You Eat, Red Eye and Golden Eye, (l-r) are from Luke Chueh. | Photos: Christine N. Ziemba

This colorful tiger wall tapestry was created by artist James Jean. | Photo: Christine N. Ziemba

This sculpture/installation is by Yoskay Yamamoto. Photo: Christine N. Ziemba

The Giant Robot Biennale featured works by Mike Shinoda of Linkin Park, who showed his Fort Minor series for the first time in public. | Photo: Christine N. Ziemba

Old Giant Robot Magazine covers are also on view at the museum. | Photo: Christine N. Ziemba

Giant Robot Biennale 5 On view through Sept. 1, 2024 Japanese American National Museum 100 N. Central Ave., downtown L.A. (Little Tokyo) Admission: $9 - $16

[ziegenkind094]

hello i saw on ur twitter that you read alot and do you have some book recommendations? im open for anything

1 The Prince of Milk by Exurb1a = if you're like me and can't read any mr. gaiman books bc his writing style bores you to death then this might be for you. really fun cosmic horror/ scifi book. there's some gore, lots of death and a character who's been battling constant suicidal thoughts with several suicide attempts under her belt, so pls be careful

2 The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly = it's about the dark and twisted nature of fairytales, plays during WW 2 and covers difficult topics like loss and death. There's also some murdering and sick experimentation going on, like sewing a human's head on an animal's body etc.

3 Prosper's Demon by K. J. Parker = quick and fun read with an interesting take on exorcism and demon handling. loved the main character's interactions with the demons and how he solved his problems in the book lol

4 Afterlove by Tanya Byrne = sweet book about girls falling in love and then unapologetically staying in love for the rest of the book. srsly, they're so sweet :')

5 All of Us Villains by Amanda Foody and Christine Lynn Herman = YA about teenagers killing each other in a blood tournament with an intersting magic system. pretty dark, lots of blood and injuries, actual death and, of course, feelings. funniest straight bait i've seen in a while, promising gay romance (not confirmed yet but it's hinted at and I hope we'll see it come true in the sequel). it's a bit of a pynch situation, just with more murder :)

6 The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern = it was recommended to me as a love letter to literature and it really didn't disappoint. one of my favorite books I've read this year. also gay with lovely characters and a stunning world, but has unfortunately one-dimensional and flat villains. it's literally about being gay and liking books (didn't like the pop culture references at the beginning but thankfully that stops after a few chapters)

7 Bunny by Mona Awad = AHHHHHHHH I LOVED IT SO MUCH. really, really, REALLY fucked up. I srsly don't recommend it if you don't like horror and gore and murder. feral women becoming even more feral, committing some actual atrocities most dark academia books don't dare to mention. the main character is bi. the book even made me tear up at the end bc of how it handles the topic of loneliness and despair

8 If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio = you probably witnessed me losing my mind over this book on twitter when i live-tweeted my reading journey. nothing has changed, i still think about this book daily. it's one of the books i'm gonna draw fanart for once i'm done with all of my exams. i can't put into words how much i love it, it makes up like 60% of my personality by now. oliver and james are the bitches i will still cry about in 30 years. the book has one of my favorite endings of all time tbh

9 The Secret History by Tonna Tartt = We've all read it. It's one of my favorites

10 Piranesi by Susanna Clark = it's one of those books you shouldn't know ANYTHING about when going itt, which makes it hard to recommend bc I refuse to say anything about it. If you like dark academia then maybe give it a try. I loved it a lot. it's weird but has a very special place in my heart. pls don't look up th plot. pls don't. srly

11 Wicker King by Kayla Ancrum = it has a really interestng fantasy concept i wish we would've seen more of. it's about two best friends becoming more and more obsessed with each other while losing themselves in their.... uh.. "game". really felt for them and their desperation to stay together

12 Horseman by Chhristina Henry = a dark retelling of the legend of sleepy hollow with a trans main character who i ADORE and still think about daily. again, lots of death and gruesome, gory scenes. really cool concept. have i mentioned that i love the main character? bc i really love him

13 Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro = if you're interested in scifi that's not a grand and overwhelming space opera than pls give this book a try. it's about AI and the appreciation of life, how do deal with sickness and destiny and loss without losing hope Hope these help a bit. idk why but i prefer reading about unhinged and sad characters in summer. makes me feel good somehow <3 sorry if these are too depressig for you!

[xxiamtiebrousxx]

"Prologue" (The Phantom's Rose | The Phantom of the Opera x Reader)

A/n: Originally on Quotev.

My name is Y/n L/n and I have always been Christine Daae's friend from birth. My role in her story changed my very own life.

After her father, Gustave Daae, the violinist, died, Madame Giry took her in and raised her. My family and I would visit the opera house to check on the young girl. Christine and I would dance on the stage until it was time to go home. Two years later my parents perished in a fire, leaving me orphaned. Madame Giry, once again, took in another child. I was quick to become friends with her daughter, Meg Giry. Together, Christine, Meg and I trained and became dancers. 

I learned how to stitch dresses and how to create props for the set. I was skilled in drawing, so most backgrounds were designed by me. I helped the customer with ideas on costumes for the actors and dancers.  For most of our productions, I helped move things around or into place. I was one of the best stage hands if I do say so myself. If a ballerina or dancer was out sick, I would take their place. Madame Giry had taught me well. I grew older. Christine's voice had begun to get stronger. A stranger was secretly teaching her and I wanted to know.

Every day I would ask, “Who’s teaching you?”

And every day Christine would reply, “The Angel of Music.” After a while, I stopped asking.

Today was no different than the past couple of years. I had finished up Christine’s slave costume for Hannibal. Proud of myself, I stood up from my seat in the audience and made my way to the dorms.

"Hello Madame Giry," I greeted the teacher.  I passed her as I was on my way to Christine's room. 

“Y/n,” Giry replied. I quickly arrived at Christine’s door. I knocked. No answer. I knocked again. Still no answer.

 Then that's when I heard him. There was this muffled voice singing. It belonged to a man. His voice was so beautiful. I could hear Christine's voice. I assumed it was hers since it sounded feminine. Her soprano’s voice was just as beautiful as the male’s. The singing stopped. I heard some muffled talking, followed by some shuffling. Someone thanked someone for the lesson, then there was a loud bam! As Christine was opening her door,  it slammed against my nose. I felt it crack a little as blood gushed out. I stumbled backwards.

"Oh my goodness! I am so sorry Y/n,” she said, picking me up. I could hear the concern in her soft voice.

"No, it's my fault,” I said, rubbing my nose. My nose was quickly filling up with blood. “Do you have a first aid kit?" I asked.

“No, I’ll go get you one,” Christine said. She placed her hand on my shoulder, led me to her bed, and made me sit down. “I will return,” she said, running off. I looked around her room and noticed that her mirror was open, just a little bit. I wondered if it was a two way mirror. I walked up to the mirror, examining it.

"Huh, that's strange," I muttered to myself.  Grasping the frame, I opened it up even more.

There was a passageway that led to who knows where. The smell of the sewer hit my broken nose. I shuddered at the awful scent. I covered my nose as I went in. I passed many candelabras that looked like golden arms. I thought that they had moved as I passed them. It could’ve been my imagination. As I made my way through the passageway, I noticed a black horse.

"Neigh,” the horse said.

"Oh, well hello there!" I said, petting his back. His snout nuzzled into me. I could tell that this beautiful stallion was hungry. I found a carrot in a crate filled with the vegetable and gave it to him. The horse neighed. “You’re very welcome,” I said, grabbing my skirt and curtising. The horse bowed his head. I giggled.

 I followed the dimly lit passageway until I came across a glistening lake. I was fortunate enough to know how to swim,  but luckily that would not be required because there was a boat that I could take. I grabbed the paddle and began to row. My arms grew sore as the journey across the water grew long and tiresome. How long until I came across land? That’s when I realized I could be heading right for the opera ghost’s lair.

Everyone in the opera house feared the phantom. Some called him a ghost, others, a monster. Either way, everyone obeyed what he had to say. Box five was kept to always be empty and the manager paid the ghost. I always asked myself why would the ghost require money? Perhaps to keep this place in shape.

I continued to row the boat forward. I knew that there was no going back now. As the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. It really did!

I wasn't ready for what was coming for me. I wasn't expecting the unexpected. This was the point in my life that would change.

[danisnotofire]

character moodboard | jeremy heere from no such mirrors

↳ “Me? Do something stupid?” Jeremy let out a short laugh, dropped his hand out of Michael's grip, and tried to shove aside thoughts of Michael at his funeral. "Who do you think I am, Spiderman?”

[krokodile]

Unfortunately I wasn’t able to record the show which I usually listen back on to remember what I wanted to comment on, but...eh I’ll give it a shot.  I still like having these posts to look back on.

- Sweet jesus Meghan might be the best Christine I’ve ever seen.  

- I love that she doesn’t do the usual panicked look offstage during Think of Me. She’s not scared, she’s finding her space, she’s getting ready, she knows she can do this.  Overall her Christine is...actually a functional, competent human being instead of a giant ball of anxiety.  And while the fragility Christine usually has isn’t a negative point for me, this was when I knew I was in for an evening of choices that would fascinate me.

- Interestingly, Meghan-as-Christine sings differently “onstage” and “offstage,” as it were.  A bit more flowery and traditionally operatic when she’s singing the diagetic numbers.  A little deeper and more resonant when she’s singing as herself.  

- The cadenza tho oh my goddddd her voice is flawless even when she’s still kinda sick.

- I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Christine and Meg as in love as Meghan and Sara.  (Maaaaybe Katie Hall and Hannah Cadec.  Maybe.)  If you’re new here, yeah, I’m joking around (Megstine was, like, my first Broadway ship when I was ever so young), but I’m also kind of not because...man get you someone who looks at you like that.  Christine fell into Meg’s arms more than Raoul’s this time around...just putting that out there.

- Definitely weird to see Meg taller than Christine.

- Kinda hate the new title song staging.  Not a big deal, just my first time seeing it.

- Meghan is the first ADULT Christine I’ve seen in a while.  Or adult-seeming, I guess.  I love Kaley Ann Voorhees more than life itself, so we’re clear, this isn’t criticism, but I’d become so used to her childlike, deeply naive take on the role.  

- Which was actually kind of nice because the Christine/Phantom dynamic didn’t feel like pseudo-incest on top of Stockholm syndrome for a change.  Oh don’t get me wrong I love how fucked-up it can be.  But this was the first time I’ve NOT been cringing in my seat whenever they interact.

- Meghan is also the HORNIEST Christine I’ve ever seen.  I mean, Sierra Boggess had her moments, but like...Meghan’s Christine knows what she wants and is GOING for it, damn.  I mean yes it’s still abuse and manipulation but at least initially the desire is reciprocated, BEFORE Music of the Night.  Again, the whole thing just feels a lot less gross (in a certain way, I mean...it’s still...*gestures vaguely at everything*) when it doesn’t feel like a kidnapping at that point.  

- No seriously her faces during Music of the Night made me feel like I should maybe leave the room.  (I mean...girl, SAME, Ben Crawford’s voice just does that to a person.)

- Did COVID somehow make Ben’s voice better?  Like, what the hell?  How is he so amazing?  

- She was so cute and playful trying to grab the mask.  For all the depth and nuance to her Christine, she’s also just an absolute delight to watch.

- Okay Meghan fully screams when she takes the mask off and, like...goddamn I’ve never felt bad for Ben’s Phantom before, but that made me feel it a little bit, not gonna lie.  

- I kinda...okay, they redirected a bunch of stuff, can we get rid of the part where he army crawls directly at her across the stage like Bob from Twin Peaks?  At best it’s unnecessary; at worst, it’s DEEPLY silly.

- I love that she shows anger as well as fear and revulsion.  Again, the show is still uncomfortable, as it should be, but it’s less...viscerally upsetting when Christine doesn’t look about to shatter into a million pieces multiple times throughout.

- And I love that she remains conflicted.  “In his eyes...” isn’t just PITY, there’s a softness when she sings that.  Her affection for him feels sincere, borne of the connection they do have.  But at the same time she’s appropriately ready to get the fuck away from him.

- It was just nice to not have anxiety the entire damn show because for once Christine seemed/felt like she could take care of shit.  

- I love how feisty she is in All I Ask of You.  All the times I’ve seen the show previously, there’s a bit of simpering and fawning from Christine, and she responds to Raoul like she’s transferring authority over her life from the Phantom to him, and, there’s a bit of desperation there, and like...honestly I’ve always kinda hated it.  This time, it felt like an active choice on her own behalf.  Love that.

- I find John Riddle kind of meh.  He sings well, and he has a few strong moments, but overall I find him a little bland.  But Raoul is kind of a terribly bland role much of the time, really.

- Sara is such a little fireball as Meg.  I love her facial expressions so damn much.  She also has really great chemistry with Maree Johnson, which isn’t really *necessary*, but it’s something that I really appreciate when it’s there.  

- ONE of the ballerinas kept pulling my attention, I’m not 100% sure who it was but looking at pics I THINK it was XiaoXiao Cao?  Whoever she was, she absolutely FLOATS.  

- This was my first time seeing Bradley Dean and Craig Bennett together and I love them.

- The one place Meghan’s self-assuredness as Christine didn’t work for me was during Masquerade; she didn’t really have the same building tension and panic as the other Christine’s I’ve seen, and that was missed.  It was still there but it didn’t really land for me.  Still...if that’s literally my only complaint...

- Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again surprised me - I didn’t realize just HOW massive Meghan’s range is from recordings.  SO MUCH resonance on the lower notes.  SO MUCH power.  Her voice tends to sound a bit thinner on recordings.  I knew I’d like her performance but I wasn’t expecting to absolutely adore her voice.  Her physicality in this song was a little dull for me; I think I’m used to Kaley Ann Voorhees’s take, which is super dynamic.  The stiller version makes more sense for Meghan’s Christine overall, just not my preference.

- She started actually bawling before the first “help me say goodbye.”  Honestly, I fell in love with Meghan as a performer in general long before I fell for her Christine, just because she seems like the sweetest person ever.  She has so much love for what she does and the people she works with, and I admire that.  I’d noticed her voice catching or breaking slightly a couple of times throughout the show and wasn’t sure if it was because her voice still isn’t back or because she was holding back tears, but...no doubt here.  

- Ben’s Wandering Child is always so fucking creepy.  It’s creepier still when Christine is approximately five foot nothing and is actively sobbing while he sings.  Like...sometimes things just happen to work out really well, and that was a hell of a moment.

- Meghan alternating between hysteria and catatonia was actually really painful to watch.  Christine’s breakdown doesn’t have much impact for me, usually, because I’m used to Christines who are already on the edge.  Watching Meghan just get stomped down bit by bit through Act II, though?  That HURT.  At one point she just looked completely dead-eyed and defeated, not making eye contact with anyone, and that was so much more heartbreaking than the sobbing and wailing I’m used to.  

- The new blocking for Point of No Return is...fine?  I preferred how it was before but this is fine.  

- I know the director is getting a lot of credit for “giving” Christine more agency in this version of the show, but...I’m gonna call bullshit real quick because I’ve seen the video of Meghan on tour.  At the very least, the director was inspired by Meghan.  She’s always been powerful as FUCK in that song.  Her Christine has, in general, always had agency.  She deserves so much credit.  And this song?  Goddamn.  I was looking forward to it, and she delivered.  Perfectly sensual, seductive, and yet calculated.  Perfection.

- Her snarl on “tears of HATE”...there’s our girl, she’s back.  

- She was crying again when she returned the ring, actual tears.  She and Ben held for a few seconds longer than usual and you could see him squeezing her hand.  It was just a lovely moment between the two of them.  When he sang “Christine, I love you” it didn’t feel like acting from either of them.

God, I wish I could’ve seen her more than once, but...what a performance to see.  There are SO MANY more little things I know I’m forgetting that I wanted to mention, but this’ll have to do.  Can’t wait to see what’s next for her.

[cdaae]

So let’s talk about it Mackintosh’s recent statement and why it’s absolute bs.

Calling trans people a gimmick is pretty hard to misinterpret. The only way casting a trans person would be a gimmick is if them being trans was a selling point. It shouldn’t be.

He was asked if he’d cast a trans woman as Mary Poppins and he basically said no, and he essentially said no once again. He says a person being trans has no bearing on their suitability but also says he wouldn’t deviate from P L Travers original intention for the character. He clearly feels that the author’s intention was for Poppins to be a cis woman. If the question is “would you cast a trans woman” and the answer “I wouldn’t deviate from the authors vision”, that’s a no.

He goes on to say trans people are welcome to audition. He doesn’t say he’d cast us. And it’s a way to still hide behind “I only cast the most talented people, I can’t help if they all happen to be cis.”

He also calls himself a proponent of diversity. Sir, where? Took you 35 years to have a black Christine in London. How many black actors have played the phantom in London? Across all productions of phantom, the number of black actors in leading roles is still really small compared to white actors. Pocs overall, really. Producing a show like Hamilton which insists on diversity isn’t something YOU get to take credit for. You certainly don’t get to pat yourself on the back for what representation you have allowed in your shows. Diversity should be commonplace in your shows, especially if you’re a “proponent of diversity”.

You know what proponents of diversity do? Hire more pocs. You know what they don’t do? Hire pocs just for a photo shoot so that the cast looks more diverse than it is.

[lucycola]

Spock being kind of betrayed by his love interest but after a bit of angst, everything falls into place and fluff is baaaack :>

Spock x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Language, sexual situations, daddy kink if you squint

Spock is a bit of a stubborn asshole in this one. He doesn’t like being lied to and will not stop at getting the truth, especially when he knows it’s about him. Spock may be a little too personal in front of Bones, but it’s an emotional situation. 

The buzz from your monitor diffused through the air, ringing in Spock’s ears. As low as it was it still brought him to groggily open his eyes. The whole room was wrapped in a soft blue glow. He sat up, hand immediately feeling the empty spot next to him.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not exactly sure how long,” you whispered, hunched over the screen.

“T’hy’la,” he said into the glow, tone sharper than he intended.

You hurriedly flipped off the monitor.

“Spock,” you said, “I’m sorry I woke you.” You tip-toed carefully across the room and crawled back under the thermal blankets. Your boyfriend have better been thankful that you were extremely cold natured otherwise the mere temperature of his cabin would drive you out of the room.

“What were you-”

“I was finishing up some work for the lab. I dreamed of it and woke and immediately I had to do it before it slipped my mind.”

He could sense your deceit in the way your voice wavered, but it also did that when you were grieving. He moved to find your hand in the dark, but failed as you began to massage his scalp.

Were you avoiding his touch? he wondered.

“Sleep, Sa-mekh,” you gently teased him with the only word that could make his scowl at you, other than ‘papa’ itself. He did like it in bed, however, as much as he denied it.

You paused, thinking of the word critically, a surge of panic leaving your hands. He could feel it, “Tell me what ails you. Who were you talking to a moment ago?”

“Myself,” you quickly yanked your hands away. “I really am sorry for waking you.”

He didn’t bother turning to face you or to further question you. It would come out eventually at the test of his impatience or yours. Something was upsetting you-he felt the raw emotion even through the follicles of his scalp. He would take more time to ponder-more time to investigate.

“I shall return to  sleep - as should you. You should participate in your work on the alpha shift singularly as your sleep cycles will continue to be disrupted therefore lowering you work efficiency-”

“And yours?” you finished for him, half joking. “Whatever you say, Commander.”

x

“I wish everyone would stop treating us like we’re married, honestly,” you said, crossing your arms in front of Doctor McCoy.

“All I know is that I’ve got an irritated Vulcan asking me to scan you. He thinks you're hiding something from me and he’s doing whatever he can to figure it out before actually asking you. Something about not letting him touch you. I tried to tell him it was normal once a month-”

You gave him a playful swat.

“Forgive me, I jest.”

“How ridiculous,” you replied and then sighed.

“That’s a man’s pride for you. It escapes no species,” Nurse Chapel said handing you back the report.

“And as you are hiding something, I’m guessing, I suggest you go on out with it. He’ll tear the ship apart finding an answer.”

“And how I think he used to indulge in smothering me in rapid fire questions. That was before our first meld,” you said, fingering the edge of the padd not having fully looked at it yet.

“I’m surprised he hasn’t tried that yet,” McCoy said, “He’s already hunted me down once. I’m not allowed to say anything, but as a favor to me-”

“Bones-”

“Keep him out of my hair and tell him whatever it is you’re lying about-”

You turned the padd to face him and his eyes enlarged, first with shock and then with mirth. He let out a hearty laugh.

“Good luck with that one. I’d say he’s gonna turn green, but that’s normal for him.”

“Have you  talked to your mother yet, honey?” Nurse Chapel asked.

x

Why would you have spoken with your mother so late an hour? Was it purposeful because he had been sleeping? Was it an emergency? Surely you would have told Spock.

He had already extracted the call log from his comm, even though the data had been private and locked under your information. You would fuss at him later he already knew, but this little inkling in the back of his mind reminded him. That raw feeling he felt through your hands. It terrified you. You were scared of something.

You were lying to him. You had lied to him. You had not been speaking to yourself. You had been speaking to your mother. He supposed he could contact your mother, but you two had never formally been introduced and some parties might find that offensive.

You were eating less and less and sleeping with him less and less. You weren’t being as intimate as you usually were either and that was most alarming. Not because it was a requirement to Spock, but because it was a deviation of your behavior. Spock didn’t usually adopt Terran colloquialisms, but once after sucking him off in the lab in the middle of a gamma shift he called you a ‘dirty bird’. He always made you blush when using Terran phrases and slang.

Was it something he did? It seemed he was always doing something, but Spock could honestly not place something accidentally offensive or insulting he might have said. You were pretty good at pointing out when he was too candid or too critical. He was good at pointing out when you were too emotional and too...well too human.

Yet he relished in every bit of that-and so did you, or so he thought you had.

So what was it?

Spock didn’t chew on his nails, but found himself letting the edge of his thumb rest in his teeth.

A familiar warm hand clapped him on the shoulder.

“Look alive, Spock,” the captain playfully chided.

“I assure you captain I am in no way deceased.”

x

You were pregnant. It was that simple. Yet, it didn’t feel simple at all. You wouldn’t hardly let Spock even touch you for fear of finding out. You were terrified of his response.

You were puking in the bathroom and had called your mother immediately. It was the second week in a row and Christine’s labs proved it.

You had a bun in your oven. You could see Spock giving you the quizzical brow at the use of the expression. You could see yourself fussing a little, telling him you knew that he knew exactly what that phrase meant and to stop acting like he didn’t.

It was true what you had said to Bones.

You two weren’t married. It was perfectly normal to have a child out of wedlock- that was, on Earth. You hadn’t even met his parents. What would they say? It would only be a fourth Vulcan. He didn’t speak fondly of his father and whenever prompted you could practically read how sour their relationship was. His father had to be fond of humans to some extent-his wife was human after all.

Would other Vulcans shame Spock? Would they shame your baby?

You heard a buzz from the comm. You got up out of bed and walked over.

“McCoy to Yeoman L/N.”

“Yes, doctor?”

“I’ve got a green-blooded devil down here demanding your presence.”

You groaned into your fist.

“You can’t make me.”

“Please.”

It was the first time you ever heard Spock say that. The tone was nearly pitiful as it was on edge.

x

“You can’t make anyone get a scan, Spock. She doesn’t even work in your division,” Bones said once you arrived.

“She has not been eating, sleeping, nor participating in the normal intimate recreations. Her behavior is off and her pallor has changed considerably,” Spock argued.

“That’s not of anyone’s business, Spock,” you said, appalled. He was being...so unlike himself. It was even weirder that it was in front of Bones. Spock would rather eat his hat than be any kind of vulnerable in front of...well anyone. 

“He’s...he’s just worried about you,” Nurse Chapel offered politely from afar.

You groaned, “I wish everyone would just stay out of it. I’m not ready for this.”

“Well you should’ve thought about that before you...uh” Bones started but immediately stopped when you shot him daggers, “Spock, why don’t you just ask her?’

“She has deceived me once before. I do not trust her again to be candid. She is either emotionally upset with a matter and does not want to tell me because it concerns me or she is ill and is emotional about such and does not want to tell me. Either way I am...most concerned.”

It seemed Spock would be eating his own hat later. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks. Was he really this worried? 

“Spock...”

He turned to you, “I apologize for involving the doctor but I do not like it when you lie. Especially when I can be of assistance.”

You could feel water brimming at your lashes. “You’re so smart, Spock. Just so damn smart I hate it.”

You sat on the edge of one of the stretchers, tears dribbling down your face.

“Now, look what you’ve done, you ass!” Bones said angrily, “Out of my bay this instant.”

Spock ignored him and knelt down in front of you.

“I can help. And if I can’t we will find a way, ashayam.”

You looked up at him. “I am upset with something...and I am sick and it does have to do with you. Both of your guesses were right.”

You held out a hand. He assumed it was to meld, but it wasn’t so as you only placed his hand palm down on your still flat abdomen.

His eyes widened. “Y/N...”

“I know I lied about talking to my mother. I was just afraid you would find out and I wasn’t... I just don’t think we’re ready. I want to be ready, but I don’t know if you’re ready. We’re not married and I don’t want to cause trouble for you on Vulcan.”

He stared at your stomach for a long time, hand unmoving.

“I do not care what others think of me on Vulcan. I do not care what they think of my t’hy’la or my child,” he said with a tone of finality, “I only care what you think. If you are not ready I will not force you to beget my children.”

“Are you ready?” you asked.

“I do not think a parent ever truly is. My mother once spoke those words to me,” he admitted, “But it is not my say in the matter whether you choose to carry out the pregnancy. Do you wish to terminate the pregnancy?”

“No, Spock.”

He rubbed your stomach gingerly, “I am sorry for my behavior, ashayam. It was most ill-mannered of me. The mother of my child deserves better treatment.”

You placed your hand over his while it was still on your stomach, “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t lie to you.”

“Well, well,” the doctor spoke up from the awkward silence beside his nurse, “I guess we ought to pass around cigars now?”

It seemed you both had forgot that Bones and Christine were still even there, witnessing the sappy moment between you two. 

Spock repaired that easily. 

“I will not allow my t’hy’la to engage in such a habit or for those surrounding her to do so. Certainly, doctor, you do not permit such unhealthy behaviors to pregnant persons.”

You laughed and Bones rolled his eyes.

Another day on the Enterprise, you thought. Another day.

tagged: @groovyfluxie @dontgivedeath @lumar014 @pringtella @moonchildlonan @superninjapervert420 @love-wanderlust15 @ischysiaclark​@imyourspacegirlfriend @hiddlestonme @fandoms4ever97 @mywellspringoflife​ @rebelchild93 @nilalunis16​

[phantomtrader19]

Phantom of the opera 1st and 3rd preview review

PART 2

Masquerade - WOW I don’t know if it’s the brand new costumes and sets or the cast but I something was different. It had such oomph to it! The lightning was changed to a more intense blue/pink-y red tones which looked amazing! Lyrics I believe were the Broadway lyrics didn’t mind it it didn’t make a difference to be honest. Seemed to be a couple tweaks or new costumes I hadn’t noticed before but would need a photo to confirm. Lucy’s star princess...

I don’t understand as she was in an original dress and it was stunning so I don’t understand the change it just lacked altogether, fun thing I noticed is costume supervisor of 25+ years Ceris Donovan was sat behind me in the show with a note pad taking notes. I do hope they change Lucy back to the original dress! Her hair is in a bun with some hair down and her tiara is more of a centre piece on top of her head that lays flat don’t mind it but not my fave,This could change as the show is still in previews. Phantom as the red death still the same! And still disappears through the trap door and the double appears at the top.

Raoul and Mme Giry’s scene was the exact same except I felt it was a bit more intense which I liked! Francesca Ellis is just an absolute joy to watch her acting is top of the game.

Notes II - very much the same nothing more really to add, just like the original Carlotta and Christine’s stand off is always fun to watch! Lucy again just blows it out the water with the acting l.

Twisted every way - Lucy’s Christine you can tell she’s been pushed to her limits and explodes which was amazing to watch, it was sped up rather a lot which I didn’t mind as it sort of reflected how Christine was feeling and as she began to sing “twisted every way...” the tempo slowed again.

Don Juan sitzprobe - lovely to see all the cast in their gorgeous costumes! James Hume’s reyer is so good. I’m not quite sure if it was done before but when the piano begins to play itself and they company seem rather possessed by the phantoms presence some of the ensemble stand round the piano and their faces are illuminated it was rather creepy but definitely added to the feel of the scene.

Journey to the cemetery - the same as the original no changes

Wishing you were somehow here again - the first opening dialogue (little lotte thought of everything and nothing...”) Lucy said quite quickly like she was completely tormented. This song is where you can notice the reduced orchestra it wasn’t horrific but I miss the old orchestra :( Lucy sounded beautiful once again. The stage appeared to be a little brighter than the original.

Wandering child - the trio version was done and killian, Lucy and Rhys’ voice all blended perfectly. Fireballs still shot from the phantoms staff and the fire still burst from the stage.

Before the premier - exactly the same however the 1st preview the gun didn’t go off.

Don Juan - slowed tempo similar to Broadway as previously the west end done it a little faster which I actually prefer but company’s vocals were amazing! I did notice on the 3rd preview a new costume on James Hume nice little addition :) Lucy’s “dreams of looooveee” flawless.

Point of no return - phantoms part stayed the same but Lucy was a lot more feisty and sassy than I’d seen before and I loved her high kick before she put her leg up on the bench! Christine has her hair down and a rose in. Christine actually knows it’s the phantom after the first verse so it was really interesting to watch the difference in how other Christine’s act not knowing the phantom is under the cloak. Just before Christine’s verse begins just after she notices the phantom is on stage she has a moment of panic and looks helplessly into the audience before singing which added a lot more intensity to this scene. Instead of attempting to run off the stage Christine grabs the phantoms hands and puts them round her waist as they sing the last verse which has been significantly I think maybe to build some more tension. Also the managers, Raoul the policeman and Mme Giry come on stage, Raoul and the policeman immediately back off stage Mme Giry and the phantom have a moment as they obviously remember eachother and another change is Christine seems to tell the managers to back off instead of Andre and Firmin trying to get Christine on stage an interesting choice!

Killian still sings the All I ask of you part as usual and still gives Christine the ring.

Down once more - the same as it was before. Rhys does the jump from the bridge which I was really happy about!

Final lair - I loved the blocking choice that presumably came from Broadway of the phantom dragging Christine on stage and throwing her to the ground it really makes you feel as if he’s completely lost it! Lucy’s fiery-ness really comes out in this scene. The mirror bride doll is silver with no wig or facial features for obvious reasons. Killian’s acting is fantastic in this scene he’s so mocking but you can see how destroyed he is. Rhys I think could’ve done a little more acting when he had the Punjab lasso round his neck but again he will settle into things soon enough. Lucy’s “you deceived me!” Was amazing she really seemed angry and devastated. The kiss was perfect. Lucy seems to want to go back to comfort the phantom but Rhys holds her back and they run off. When she returns you can see she is trying to hold back her motions and then hurriedly runs off. Killian’s last note was beautiful! The show still had its iconic Meg moment at the end no changes there!

Overall this cast is absolutely stellar! A must see, the show still has the original elements but definitely refreshed and some revised parts which I didn’t mind I still loved it! I think my favourite out of the trio is Lucy she just embodies everything Christine should be and her acting is some of the best I have ever seen.

Please show the cast and crew as much love as you showed the previous cast and crew none of this is their doing ❤️

[hummingbird-of-light]

So, @thesconesyard (writing McCoy) and I (writing Scotty) started this thing. It’s a 21st century yet untitled Scones-AU. We hope you enjoy it ~

WARNINGS: This story deals with topics of mental and physical abuse in a relationship. There’ll be descriptions of violence and swearing.

San Fransisco, 2018

PART 1 ~ Scotty

Montgomery Scott sat in the small, uncomfortable chair, moving his leg restlessly. He was anxious. This was definitely not the place he had planned to end up.

A hospital.

Why did it have to be the hospital? Why wasn’t he sitting in the shipyard’s sickroom? He should be at work.

But that damn piece of metal he had been working on, had decided to slice his left arm open. Badly.

So his boss had called an ambulance right away which had brought him to the nearest hospital.

People had taken care of the Scottish engineer, especially a nurse called ‘Chapel’. She had taken a quick look at the cut, before wrapping it up again, and had made the decision to get one of the doctors.

Scott glanced at the clock which was ticking in the room. Only one hour left until his shift would end. One hour until his boyfriend would come to pick him up.

‘I have to be there when he arrives.’

His love would be angry if he knew about this. And… he’d have all right to be. Why couldn’t Montgomery Scott do one thing right? Why did he even fail at doing his simple job?

His mind was slowly breaking free from this spiral of thoughts, when a man entered the room.

“Doctor?”

A tall man with dark hair. His eyes were staring down at the file in his hands. He didn’t even look up at first, probably reading all about his new case.

But when he finally looked up, Scott’s world seemed to stop for a moment.

PART 2 ~ McCoy

It had been a long day and McCoy was looking forward to clocking out soon. He barely glanced up from filling out charts when Christine slid another in front of him.

“This one’s all yours Leo,” she said. “Room nine.”

“What is it?” he asked distractedly.

“Deep laceration, left arm.”

“Alright, let me finish this before I forget what I’m doing.”

Christine walked off with a shake of her head.

McCoy took another five minutes to finish charting. He stretched back in his chair and stood. He grabbed the file and back to read while he walked to room nine.

“Doctor?” a nervous voice asked when he entered the room.

“Hmm.” McCoy finished reading the patient notes before he looked up. His breath caught when he finally looked at the injured man.

His reddish hair glinted with gold in the harsh hospital lighting. McCoy knew instinctively that if the man smiled it would light the room up. Why that thought filled him with warmth he didn’t know.

But for some reason the man in the chair seemed smaller than he was. Curled in around himself somehow McCoy thought. He wondered why. Then he noticed the man’s leg bouncing nervously.

“Mr. Scott?” he waited for a nod from the other man. “I’m Dr. McCoy. Let’s see what you’ve done.”

McCoy moved to the man and went to lift the bandage. His fingers brushed the others arm and it felt like a bolt of lightning went through him. He glanced sharply up to see Mr. Scott staring back wide eyed.

McCoy cleared his throat. “Uh…, you did this at work?”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone give you the L&I forms to fill out?”

The man shook his head.

“Ok, I’ll make sure you get them before you go.”

McCoy continued to examine the wound, trying his hardest not to brush against him again, but for some reason desperately wanting to. McCoy pushed the thought away.

“I think we’re going to need some stitches inside and then on the outside to close it up. I’ll get something so you won’t feel it,” he said straightening up again.

“Once that takes effect then it’ll be simple sewing job.”

[teddy06writes]

The Phantom Of The Opera AU

requested by this anon: “Okay so I know you’re a musical kid so you have probably listened to/heard of Phantom of the Opera. Picture this: Dream as the Phamtom x Fem!reader as Christine x Sapnap as Raul”

Dream x Fem!reader and Sapnap x fem!reader (with dream as the phantom and sapnap as Raul)

trigger warnings: death, dream being a low key creeper, maybe some swears, my general lack of knowledge of this musical

premise: Phantom AU, not neccicarily the full story, its mainly what I’ve seen/read/listened to that I think is important, and like eight of the songs. Ummm, I feel like the summary above is enough for you to get the general idea.

(y/l/n)- your last name

“blep” regular talking

“Belp” singing

When things are in counterpoint, regular text will be (y/n), (text in parenthesis is sapnap), and {bracketed text is Dream}

if you, like me are unfamilliar with the story, this is the summary that arrived in my inbox last night (thank you so much to the person who sent that by the way, it really helped)  

“So basically phantom of the opera is a love triangle between 3 people, the Phantom (P) x Christine (C) x Raul (R). C and R were childhood friends until R had to move away. C grew up in the Opera house with her dad (deceased) as a music writer. C grows up getting “private” singing lessons from P ( he is literally talking to her through a vent ((Among Us omg)) or something idk). Fast forward into the future to present day. C is a ballerina at the opera and one day, the phantom makes the set malfunction so that the lead female opera singer (she’s a jerk. Forgot her name) can’t preform and C has to preform as the lead instead. Coincidentally, the night Christine sings as the lead is the day R comes to see her show and R is like “ooWooga she be fine now ig”. R and C catch up after the show and R goes away for a minute and then P is like “aight C imma kidnap you for a sec with no purpose whatsoever to the plot except for a cool song” and then C returns to her normal life ig. P them sends stuff to the people in charge of the Opera saying “ayo C be pretty fine, let her be the lead again” the people in charge of the opera were like “nah fam, let’s have the person who was supposed to be the lead be the lead”. Upset by this, during the show, P broke the chandelier and it fell into the audience. C is like “I love you uwu” R is like”let’s get engaged” C is like “let’s keep it a secret so the crazy P guy doesn’t find out” and little did they know during that conversation P was hiding and overheard everything and is now sad boi hours. A masquerade happens and P shows up like “ayo I heard you trynna steal my boo” and R is like “nah she my boo” and they duel or whatever. Idk how it transitions to this but the Opera runs another show and they make C the lead to not upset P. However, during a love song (Past the point of no return, it literally slaps), C realizes that the person singing isn’t the original actor, it is P! And then P straight up kidnaps C after the song, takes her to his lair and is like “boo you gotta marry me or I destroy the opera house with everyone inside it” C is like “fine ig” P takes off his mask and reveals he is hiding burn marks and he kisses C and C kisses back. P is like” my mom never even kissed me” and P let’s C go, telling her to go marry R... or you can just watch this video lmao https://youtu.be/4a5nahw3zi8″

On that note, here we go:

{that only goes for the final scene where its all three, it varies otherwise}

{Things I have learned while preparing this story, 1. the actual phantoms name is Erik, like what a nerd, 2. he’s also not actually a ghost??? He’s literally just some creeper who lives in an opera house screwing with people; also yes Eret is the strict lady who yells at everyone and talks to the phantom, deal with it}

{pls send me more musical au asks I really liked doing this, even if it took me a while}

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The ravenous applause of the audience seemed to echo in your ears, even after you had left the stage. 

You’re debut as the female lead in Hannibal had been a smashing success, and as the rest of the chorus girls backstage were saying, it was all thanks to the Phantom scaring Hannah off.  

Niki practically ran up to you from the rehearsal room, “(y/n) that was incredible!” 

You grinned, “Oh I feel like I’m floating Niki! Thank you for volunteering me for the role.” 

“Don’t thank me, Thank whoever's giving you those lessons,” She bumped her hip against yours, grinning cheekily, “And if what the girls are saying is true you’ll have to thank him for getting Hannah out of here.” 

You chuckled, but before you could say anything else Madame Eret was approaching, knocking the end of their cane of the ground, “Miss Nihachu, you are a dancer are you not?” 

Niki nodded. 

“Then get back to rehearsal,” he waited until Niki hurried off to turn to you, “He is most pleased with your performance, here.”

You took the note from him, reading over it quietly, “Red scarf..... the attic.... little lotte?” 

She simply shrugged, leaving you to turn and head up your dressing room. 

As you changed out of your costume from the show you couldn’t help but hum the song that had earned the most applause, “Think of me, think of me of me fondly, when we’ve said goodbye.” 

Reaching around you found your dressing gown, pulling it on and tying up the front, “Remember me, once and a while. Please, promise you’ll try...” 

Your words faded off as your sat down at your vanity, beginning to brush out your hair. 

“Where is your red scarf Miss (y/l/n)? I hope you haven’t lost it. Not after all the trouble I went through to retrieve it for you.” 

You turned to see a tall dark hair man standing in the doorway, a grin spreading across your face as he continued, “I was only 14 and soaked to the bone...” 

“Because you ran into the sea to fetch my red scarf!” You exclaimed, jumping up and flinging your arms around him excietedly, “Sapnap! How I’ve missed you!” 

He chuckled, pulling away, and offering you a single red rose, “(y/n)... Little Lotte let her mind wander...” 

“You remember that too?” You asked with a giggle. 

Sapnap smiled and kept singing, “Little Lotte thought: am I fonder of dolls,” 

“Or of goblins or shoes?” You joined in, “Or of riddles of frocks, or chocolates.” 

“Those picnics n the attic...” He reminisced. 

You closed your eyes, remembering those long ago days, “Father playing the violin.” 

“As we read each other those dark stories of the north.” 

“No what I like best, little Lotte said, is when I’m asleep in my bed,” You sang, “And the angel of music sings songs in my head!” 

“The angel of music sings songs in my head.” He repeated softly. 

You smiled at him, an excited fond feeling forming in your stomach as you sank back into your chair,  “Father said, when I am in heaven child I will send the angel of music to you. Well now father is dead, Sapnap. And I have been visited by the angel of music.” 

“Well that is very evident,” He chuckled, taking your hands, “Your performance was wonderful. And now, we shall go to supper.” 

“Oh- sapnap I can’t, the angle of music is very strict.” 

He didn’t seem to understand the urgency in your voice as he laughed again, “Well I shant keep you up late.”

“No- Sapnap, things have changed-”

“You have to change,” He interrupted, “And I have to grab my hat. Two minutes little lotte.” 

As he went out the door you cried after him, “Sapnap! Thing have changed Sapnap!”

But he was out of earshot, and the voice that had become so familiar to you was booming, “Insolate boy! This Slave of fashion basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor, sharing my triumph!”

“Angel I hear you! Speak, I listen! Stay by my side and gude me!” You begged up to the ceiling, “Angel my soul was weak! Forgive me! Enter at last master!”

“Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in the shadow I hide, look at your face in the mirror, I am their inside!” 

The voice sounded closer now, and you couldn’t help but look around, “Angel of music! Hide no longer!” 

You turned again, finding yourself face to face with what seemed like a mask, floating in your mirror, “Come to me, strange angel!”

“I am your angel! Come to me angel of music!” 

A shadowy figure seemed to appear behind the smiling mask, a hand outstretched to you. In a daze you stood, grabbing his hand and allowing him to lead you away down a dark pathway.

“Who’s voice is that?” Sapnap asked, knocking on the now closed door, “(y/n) who’s in there?” 

“Come with me angel of music!” Dream, the Phantoms voice echoed again. 

“(y/n)!” 

~~

“In sleep he came to me, the voice which calls to me and speaks my name!” You moved quietly through the passages, following Dream, “And Do I dream again? for now I find, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind!” 

“Sing once again with me our strange duet! My power over you grows stronger yet! And though you turn from me to look behind, the phantom of the opera is there! Inside your mind!” He sang, turning back to make sure you were following once more.

The walls of the tunnel seemed to widen, and you could almost make out an empty candle lit space. 

You reached out, fingers almost brushing the edge of his cloak, “Those who have seen your face draw back in fear! I am the mask you wear..”

“It’s me they hear...” 

As you emerged into a cross roads of the tunnels, you sang in tandem, “Your (my) spirit and your (my) voice in one combined, the phantom of the opera is there, inside your (my) mind!” 

He helped you into the boat that waited in one tunnel, before casting off, propelling the boat down the slow moving current, “In all your fantasies, you always knew the man and mystery...” 

“Were both in you....” You sang softly as the boat came to dock in a wide chamber.

Slowly you climbed out of the boat after him, looking around the dank space, and at the organ in the corner. 

Dream pulled off his cloak, “And in this labyrinth where the night is blind..”

“The Phantom of the opera is there! Inside my mind......” 

~~

As the people downstairs argued, you tried to think over what had happened. Was it a dream? It didn’t seem like it, but still, a man appearing in her looking glass? Taking her away and singing words of praise, words of love, words that made nearly no sense now that it was day, and a haze covered your memory. 

The one thing that remained clear was the monster she had found beyond the mask.

All too soon it seemed you were being rushed into rehearsals, being told you no longer had a speaking role, as Hannah had returned, and was back to her diva ways. 

Rehearsals that would normally drag on seemed to go quicker now, and soon you and the rest of the girls were getting ready for the performance. 

“This is ridiculous,” Niki muttered as she adjusted her costume, “You should be playing the duchess, not Hannab.” 

“Hannah is the featured soprano. She’s always the lead.” You retorted. 

“But how will Sapnap know to look for you in the chorus?” Niki teased.

You elbowed her, laughing lightly, “Shut up. Besides I doubt the phantom would let him see me again.”

The show had gone well, at least until the fifth scene. 

All the music stopped abruptly as a voice boomed, “Did I not instruct that box five was to be left empty?”

“He’s here: The Phantom Of The Opera!” Niki cried from offstage. 

Your head jerked up to turn and look at the audience, “It’s Dream!” 

“Your part is silent, you toad!” Hannah snapped. 

From somewhere up in the audience Dream frowned, “A toad Madame? Perhaps it is you who is the toad...” 

Hanna opened her mouth to continue on her script, but no sound seemed to come out, save for what was close the a croak. 

The men who had bought the opera house, Wilbur and Tommy were coming rushing down from their box, “Ladies and gentlemen we apologize! The performance will continue in ten minutes time, with Miss (y/l/n) as the duchess!”

Tommy nodded as Wilbur finished, “And for now, we will give you the ballet, from act three of tonight's show!” 

The ballet didn’t last long, as when you returned to the wings dressed for the new role you had been given, someone let out a horrified scream.

“What the-” 

You were cut off as you looked up to see Shlatt, the stagehand in charged of the curtains, hanging from the rigging, a noose fully tightened around his neck. 

“Ladies and gentlemen remain calm! It was just an accident- remain calm!” Someone shouted. 

Through the darkness you could make out Dream’s menacing figure, the smiling mask watching you threateningly as you clamped your hand over your mouth to stop the scream that had ripped at your throat. 

“(y/n)? (y/n) are you alright?” Sapnap had run down onto the stage in all the chaos. 

“We- we have to get out of here,” You choked, grabbing his hand, “We aren’t safe here.” 

He didn’t seem to understand the reason behind your panic, but even so he offer you his arm, “Lets leave then.” 

~~

Twenty minutes later you ended up in an empty park, the panic that filled your chest not yet fading as Sapnap asked, “Why have you brought me here?”

“We can’t go back there!” You exclaimed. 

“But we must return.” He gripped your hands, “Darling their bound to be missing you.” 

You shook your head, “Sapnap- He’ll kill you! His eyes will find us there!” 

“(y/n), don’t say that! It’s okay (y/n), it’s okay!” 

You looked up into the darkened sky, “No it’s not- no it’s not- Those eyes that burn!” 

“Don’t even think it!” He cried desperately. 

You couldn’t tell whether you were trembling from fear, or from the cold, as you sang, “And if he has to kill a thousand men....” 

“Forget this waking nightmare!” Sapnap insisted. 

“....The phantom of the opera will kill.” You sang distractedly. 

He gripped your shoulders, “This phantom is a fable, (y/n), believe me!” 

“And kill again....” You shuddered at the idea of Dream doing anything to Sapnap. 

Both of you sang, “God who is this man, who hunts to kill? (this mask of death?)

“I can’t escape him!” You cried. 

He shook his head, “Whose voice is it you hear...”

“...I never will!” 

“With every breath?” 

His grip on your shoulders tightened, pulling you closer to him as you both sang, “And in this labyrinth where light is blind, the phantom of the opera is there, inside my (your) mind!”

“There is no Phantom of the Opera!” 

“Sapnap- I’ve been there, inside his world of never ending light! To a world where daylight dissolves into darkness, darkness! Sapnap I’ve seen him!” You cried. “Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape that face? So distorted, disformed it was hardly a face!  in the darkness, darkness. But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound in that night there was music in my mind And through music my soul began to soar! And I heard as I'd never heard before!” 

“What you had was a dream and nothing more!” 

You could hardly look up at him, “yet in his eyes was all the sadness in the world! Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore!” 

“(y/n), (y/n)!”  Sapnap exclaimed. 

“.....(y/n)......” A different voice seemed to cry into the night. 

You gasped, pressing yourself against Sapnap, “What was that?” 

He hugged you tightly, before pulling back and singing gently, “No more talk of darkness, forget these wide eyed fears. I’m here, and nothing can harm you, my words will warm and calm you.” 

You relaxed into his grip, listening to his quiet voice, “Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry your tears, I’m here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you.” 

“Say you love me, every waking moment. Turn my head and talk of summer time,” You looked up at him, biting your lip, “Say you need me now and always, promise me that all you say is true, that's all I ask of you.” 

“Let me be your shelter, let me be your light, you are safe, no one will find you. Your fears are far behind you.” He assured you, smiling softly. 

 “All I want is freedom, a world with no more night. And you to always be beside me, to hold me and to hide me.” You admitted. 

Sapnap’s smile grew wider, “Then say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me here, beside you. Anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n), that's all I ask of you.” 

“Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time,” You repeated, “Say the word, and I’ll follow you.” 

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning.” You sang together as he leaned down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Say you love me?” 

He smiled, whispering, “You know I do.” 

“Love me- that's all I ask of you.” You both sang, before he leaned in to gently press a kiss to your lips, “Any where you go, let me go too. Love me- thats all I ask of you.” 

Sapnap kissed you again, before pulling away, “We could go anywhere- we could be married! You would marry me, yes?” 

“Oh, yes, Sapnap, yes I would. If you’d have me.” You nodded, eagerly. 

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You couldn’t help but giggle, before turning back toward the direction of the opera house, “I must go back, they’ll wonder where I am. Wait for me Sapnap!” 

“(y/n), I love you!” He exclaimed. 

“Wait for me, Sapnap. Order your finest horses and being waiting by the door.” You could go back, and continue working at the opera house, there was nothing left for you to fear while Sapnap was there.

“And soon you’ll be beside me!” He chuckled.

You grinned, “To guard me and too guide me!” 

Sapnap offered you his arm again, and you headed off out of the park, toward the opera house. 

Slowly, Dream slinked from the shadows where he had watched the proposal, “I gave you my music, made your song take wing. And now your repaid me, denied and betrayed me.” 

He groaned running a hand through his hair, “He was bound to love you, when he heard you sing. (y/n)- oh (y/n)-”

He was cut off by the sounds of your voices drifting down the street, Say you’ll share with me, one love, one life time, Say the word, and I’ll follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning.”

Dream’s hands flew to his ears, desperate to block out the sounds- he had been so sure that you could’ve loved him, but now Sapnap was stealing you away. 

“You will curse the day you did not do, all that the phantom asked of you!” He bellowed. 

~~

The following weeks at the opera house were a blur of panic masked by busyness, Wilbur and Tommy refusing to let the disaster of the chandelier falling from keeping the company from working on their next performance. 

You kept on working, the ring on the chain Sapnap had given you around your neck helping you to feel safe, even as the chorus girls cited the Phantom for the cause of all the distress. 

Now you were back in your dressing room, getting ready for dinner with Sapnap.

“Wander child, so lost, so helpless,” A soft voice seemed to drift down from no where, “Yearning for my guidance.” 

You looked up at the ceiling, “angel or father? Friend or phantom? Who is it their staring?” 

“Have you forgotten your angel?” The voice murmured, Dream appearing once again in your mirror. 

You turned to him, almost in a trance, “angel, oh, speak, what endless longings, echo in this whisper.” 

Sapnap, having arrived to the opera house appeared in the door, watched as you moved toward the phantom. 

“Too long you’ve wandered the winter...” Dream continued to sing, hand outstretched to you. 

“Once again she is his.” Sapnap sang, as you started to cross the room toward the mirror where the phantom stood. 

“...far from my far reaching eyes.” 

“Wildly my mind beats against you....” You sang, transfixed. 

Behind the mask Dream grinned, “You resist. Yet your soul obeys.” 

“Once again she returns, to the arms of her angel. Angel or demon? Still he calls her, luring her back from the grave. Angel or dark seducer? Who are you strange angel?” Sapnap sang, again, more to himself than you or Dream. 

Dream beckoned you forward again,  “I am your angel of music, come to me angel of music!”

“Angel of darkness, cease this torment!” Sapnap exclaimed, moving into the room properly and drawing attention to himself. 

Dream unbothered, continued to sing, “I am your angle of music! Come to me angel of music!” 

“(y/n), (y/n) listen to me! Whatever you may believe- this thing, this man is not your father!”  Sapnap yelled, “(y/n)! Let her go! For gods sake let her go!” 

Jarred by his sudden yell, you turned, the trance broken, “Sapnap...” 

Dream, unimpressed, began to clap, deadpanning, “Bravo monsieur. Such spirited words.” 

“No more tricks monsieur!” Sapnap yelled, stepping forward to put himself between you and Dream. 

“Oh, but that's not any fun. Why don’t you come closer, sir? Keep coming this way.” 

Sapnap, not liking to be challenged, stepped forward, “You cannot win her love by holding her prisoner!” 

“No- Sapnap don’t!” You grabbed his hand, pulling him back. 

He nodded resolutely, gripping your hand as you both moved toward the door, “Lets go then, no more time will be spent with this monster.” 

“Don’t go!” Dream wailed as you hurried away down the hall, “Now let it be war upon you both!” 

~~

Something was going wrong, of course it was, because when was it not?

Your entrance in Don Juan Triumphant had gone according to plan, but the man who had stepped out as Don Juan was not George, as it should have been.

You steeled yourself, trying to come up with a logical reason.

George must have gotten sick, and a stand in had taken his place, yes that must be it.

“Past the point of no return, no backward glances, the games we played till now, are at an end.” The man sang, “Past all thought of ‘if’ or ‘when’, no use resisting, abandon that thought and let the dream descend.”

Your panic seemed to rise, the double meaning in his words filling you with dread.

“What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire locks the door? What sweet seduction lies before is? Past the point of no return, the final thread hold. What unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return.”

You moved carefully to your next mark, trying to work out who it was in George’s place, “You have brought me, to the moment when words run dry, to the moment when speech disappears into silence, silence.

I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why, in my mind I already imagined, our bodies entwined. Defenseless and silent, now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I’ve decided, decided.”

You just barley stopped from trembling as you realized, it was Dream, “Past the point of no return, no going back now. Our passion play has now, at last, begun. Past all thought of right and wrong. One final question: how long should we two wait, before we’re one?”

“When will the blood being to race? When will the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?” You finished, taking an only slightly shaky breath.

The phantom grabbed your hand as you both sang, “Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn, we’ve past the point of no return!”

Everyone in the audience seemed to hold their breath, they too knew that this was not George. The cloak that had hidden Dreams mask fell, and they gasped upon seeing the plaster smiling face.

He grinned behind the mask, and punctuated, “Say you’ll share with me, one love, one lifetimes lead me, save me from my solitude.”

The words stung even before he pulled out a ring, holding it out to you, “come with me, or this whole place will come down upon us.”

Slowly you looked to the audience, Sapnap was standing in the isle, looking worried.

You couldn’t let him get hurt.

You nodded reluctantly, as he continued, “say you want me by your side anywhere you go let me go too, (y/n) that’s all I ask of-“

Slowly, you reached up, pulling the mask off his face, revealing the terribly scared face to the world.

The gasps turned into horrible screams as a curtain was raised, and Georges body tumbled onto the stage.

Almost immediately Dream flung his cloak around you, disappearing.

Sapnap ran up onto the stage, along with the crew, police officers and other patrons.

“Sapnap! Sapnap you’ve got to come with me!” Eret cried, rushing out onto the stage.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Sapnap!” They yelled again, “I know where they are!”

“But can I trust you?” He demanded.

She nodded, “yes, and remember, keep your hand up at eye level.”

“Why?”

“Punjab lasso.” Was all he offered in explication as he led Sapnap away.

~~

Soon enough Sapnap was creeping through the shadows of the phantoms layer, watching as he tried to place a wedding veil on your head, “Too bad pity comes to late, turn around and face your fate, an entirety of this before your eyes!”

You turn to face him, looking up at the mess of scares that cover his face, “this haunted face holds no horror for me now, it is in your soul that the true distortion lies.”

The phantom turned suddenly, to Sapnaps hiding place, “Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest! Sir, this is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come And now my wish comes true— you have truly made my night!”

“Free her!” Sapnap yelled, stepping into the light, “do what you want to me but let her go!”

“Your lover makes a passionate plea.” Dream laughed at you.

“Sapnap it’s useless!” You cried.

Sapnap shook his head, “I love her! Does that mean anything To you? I love her! Show some compassion!”

“The world showed no compassion to me!” Dream retorted.

He reached out toward you, “(y/n), (y/n), please let me see her!”

Dream grinned maliciously, “be my guest.”

Sapnap rushed forwards, as Dream contiued to taunt, “Monsuier, i bid you welcome, did you think that I would hurt her? Why should I make her pay, for the sins which are yours?” 

As he finished the last words the Punjab lasso came sailing out, and Sapnap barley had time to fling his arm back up as he was dragged back, the only thing keeping him from hanging being the fingers he’d wrangled between the rope and his neck. 

“No!” You cried, struggling to your feet. 

“Order your fine horses now!” Dream yelled, “Nothing now can save you, except maybe... (y/n).” 

You stood, shaking as he turned to you, “Start a new life with me- buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me now and send your lover to his death! This is the choice, this is the point of no return!” 

“(y/n), forgive me, please forgive me, I did it all for you, and all for nothing.” Sapnap sang, looking at you desperately.  

At the same time you turned toward Dream, “Farewell my fallen idol, and my false friend, one by one my delusions shattered.” 

“Too late for turning back, too late for prayers and useless pity!” Dream sang.

“{all hope of cries for help, no point in fighting!} (say you love and my life is over, either way you choose, he has to win!) {for ether way you choose, you cannot win! So do you end your days with me or do you send him to his grave?}”

“Why make her lie to you, to save me?” Sapnap yelled. 

You looked between them desperately, “Angel of music..... {past the point of no return!} (For pity’s sake (y/n) say no! Don’t throw your life away for my sake!) Who deserves this? When will you see reason? {The Final threshold! His life is now the prize you must earn! You’ve passed the point of no return....}”

You looked at Dream, no longer trying to hide the fear that coursed through your veins, “Angel of music, you have deceived me, I gave myself blindly to you.” 

“You try my patience! Make your choice!” Dream yelled. 

Looking back at sapnap for a moment you stepped forward, whatever it would take, you would keep him safe, “Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you, you are not alone.” 

Reaching out, you took the mask from his hand, tossing it to the side as he moved closer to you as well. 

Before you could hardly blink he was kissing you, and with little more than a second thought you kissed back. 

Sapnap watched, in partials horror, until the phantom drew back, shaking as he whispered, “No one has ever kissed me- not even my own mother.” 

You nodded, and then suddenly Dream began to move across the room, grabbing a knife from somewhere as he stalked up to Sapnap.

He paused for a beat, and you could feel the terror in the room- until he slashed at the rope, and Sapnap fell the ground. 

You rushed over to him, kneeling beside him, “Sapnap! oh Sapnap!” 

“Take her,” dream wailed, “Take her and forget me, forget all of this! Leave me alone- forget all you’ve seen....”

Sapnap struggled to his feet, holding you close to him as he backed towards the channel. 

“Take the boat, leave me here, go now, please!” 

The sounds of the mob looking for Georges murderer seemed to grow louder as they grew closer.

“Hurry! Now before its too late!” Dream yelled. 

Sapnap hurriedly started to help you into the boat, but you pulled away, moving back to the Phantom, long enough to hand him the ring. 

Then you were off, turning to Sapnap as the current carried the boat away, “I’m sorry Sapnap- I couldn’t let him hurt you- I couldn’t!” 

“Shhh. It’s alright (y/n), it’s alright. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He murmured, pulling you into his arms.

“Say you’ll share with me, one love one lifetime.” You sang shakily.

Sapnap nodded, “Say the word and I’ll follow you.”

“Share each day with me, each night, each morning...” The sounds of your voices traveled back up the tunnel for Dream to hear. 

He sighed, looking resolutly into the distance, “You alone can make my song take flight- It’s over now, the music of the night!”