#it took me a while to figure out why a lot of fan interpretations of mute characters didn’t sit completely right with me but this is it

[pollyanna-nana]

Anyone else w/ selective mutism (either now or as a kid) feel kind of weird abt fanworks always giving characters who have it sign language to communicate with. Like on the one hand I get it but on the other I didn’t have that experience I just couldn’t talk and Suffered.

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 14

Masterlist

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

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This flight – compared to my last 3 – was a lot more fun.  Between getting some sleep me and the boys entertained each other enough that time passed quickly.  Even if I spent the first few hours with headphones in pretending to be asleep.  Han sat with me for the flight, taking the opportunity to rest his head on my shoulder as he read a book when I was ‘sleeping’.

When we landed and I turned my phone on I was immediately bombarded with incoming texts.  All from J, who found out about the incident at the airport and apparently freaked out.

I left him on read, beyond annoyed with him and Chan.  Even Seungmin, though he was just doing what he was told – he still should have told me.  Good intentions or not, I trusted them, and they broke that trust and treated me like a possession or a child instead of like a person.  Especially J, who knew me better than I knew myself and knew how I would feel about not being told.  And he still chose to do this.  He made this decision for me.

There were no incidents at the landing airport.  The fans were calmer in comparison to the ones at home.  There were two cars waiting for us and I immediately claimed the one Chan wasn’t in.  Instead, I was with Felix, Han, and Bin.

“You made it thought the airports just fine.  Mostly.  You really do make all this look so easy.”  Bin commented as we drove off.

“Being angry helped, but I am happy I didn’t trip or something as well.  Or totally freak out in front of fans when I was drenched in blood.”  I shrugged off his compliment.  The feeling of the blood soaking my skin was still very fresh in my mind.  The smell stuck in my nose.

“If you would have tripped, I'd have laughed hysterically at you.  Forever.”

I swung and hit Bin playfully in the stomach.  “Meanie.”  I pouted and Bin doubled over dramatically, holding his stomach and groaning.

I looked out the window at the new scenery.  The first stop on our mini tour was Australia.  Melbourne to be exact.  Everything looked so like what I grew up with, yet so different.  Everything was so new; I couldn’t wait to see it all.

I patted my bag where my camera bag sat, begging to be opened.  “Do we have any downtime while we are here?”  The schedule on my phone was overwhelming, and I hadn’t yet figured out how to interpret it, so it made sense – but I was working on it.  I knew besides the concerts there were a couple of interviews and photoshoots planned, which I was a bit anxious about.  It would be the first time we split up for a length of time.

“Depends on if Chan and Lino let us out of practice.”  Han answered.  “Why?”

“I want to take photos.  I’ve never been here.  I haven’t gotten to see much at home yet either.  It’s kind of sad.  I bet its beautiful.”

The 3 Omegas exchanged a look.  “We will make sure you have some time.”  Felix promised.  I smiled widely at him and turned back to the scenery.

I took mental notes of the places I wanted to photograph and explore.  And we were so close to the ocean too.  Beach photos had such beautiful natural lighting.

Gasping, I flung my arm excitedly behind me, managing to catch all 3 boys in the chest.  “Look, look, look!”

Bin, who was closest to me, ignored my excited order and gasped for the air I accidentally knocked out of him.  The other 2 looked over.

“Flinders Street Station.  Its famous.”  Felix confirmed.

“It’s yellow!”  It was such an awe-inspiring Victorian style building.  I craned my neck to keep looking at it as we passed, bumping my forehead lightly on the glass of the window, making Han chuckle.  “It’s gorgeous!”  I breathed, fogging the glass in front of me briefly.

“You should see the street art.”

I whipped around to face him.  “Can we?”

He shrugged.  “Why not.  Anywhere you want to go.”

I clapped and squealed, bouncing in my seat in excitement.  I couldn’t wait to get out and see some new, amazing sights.  I had taken pictures of nothing but my Omegas since I came back.  As gorgeous and photographable as they are, I was dying to photograph other things.  Get back into nature and its beauty, and the wonder of the human soul put into things like architecture, sculptures, and art for the public to enjoy and wonder at.

“Oh my god.”  Bin whispered.

Looking over, I saw all three of them staring at me with wide eyes.  “What?”  I stilled myself, becoming self-conscious immediately.

Han shook his head and waved his hands.  “N-no, no, no!  Its just – you’re adorable.”

My face heated instantly, and I covered my cheeks with both hands, trying to hide the blush.  “Shuddup, Hannie!  You’re not funny!”  I whined.

Felix dived over to pull my hands from my face.  “Oh my goodness – you’re blushing!  You’re so red!”

“Lix, Stop it!”  I complained, fighting to get my hands back and hide again.

Lix easily held both my hands with one of his and poked my hot cheek with a wide smile.  Han and Bin joined in the poking as I shrieked and fought to get away, slipping almost completely out of my seatbelt and seat onto the floor in the process.  They finally stopped when the driver called back to us in annoyance.

“No cuddles for you!”  I declared slapping Lixs’ thigh and panting.

He clutched his chest.  You cannot deny me cuddles!”

I struggled to get back into my seat and sat again.  “Watch me, turd.”

“What about them!  They were doing it too!”

“You’re the ringleader!”

Felix gave me his best big eyed, watery pout, complete with a protruding bottom lip.  Full force adorableness x1000 activated.  The blonde sunshine was pulling out all the stop for the cuddles I never would have denied him anyway.  Not in a million years.

I scrunched my nose and pointed at him.  “That’s just not fair!”

“But it’s working, right?  Because I’m your bias.”

I shook my head miming zipping my lips and throwing away the key.  No way would they get me to tell them.  That way lay only trouble.  And they were already competitive enough.

“We already know it is me.  She had more posts about me on insta than anyone else before they deleted everything.  Its obvious.”  Han declared proudly sending me an air kiss.

“Purely coincidental.”  I denied.  “You were just extra cute during a video is all.”  Han pouted.

“What about Hyunjin?  He’s gorgeous!  A prince!”  Bin gushed.

“He is both those things and more.  But I am not telling you my bias.  Give it up.”

“Ah!”  Bin pointed at me and looked at the other two.  “She didn’t deny he was her bias!  Its Hyunjin!”

Han and Felix made noises of acknowledgement and agreement.  “Hyun is not my bias!”  I shouted swiping Felixs phone as he pulled it out to send a mass text of their false discovery.  I held it out of his reach.

We wrestled over the phone until the car came to a stop at our hotel and an annoyed driver ushered us out.  I gave them an apologetic smile on the way by.

The second group met up with us in the lobby.  “What were you doing?  We could see you guys fighting from the other care!”  Ayen asked reaching out to fix my hair to reestablish contact with me after the short ride apart.  Hyun squeezed my hand quickly and Lino swatted my butt to do the same.  Chan steered clear – wisely – and Seungmin hid behind him looking miserable.

“We found out who her bias it!”  Felix announced distracting me from Seungmin.

“You did not!”  I jumped onto Felixs back and locked both hands over his mouth, latching onto him with my legs as he tried to escape.  “I am not telling you if I even have a bias – let alone who it is!”

“Alright, enough!  Behave!”  Chan ordered.  I felt him pull me off Felix and immediately shook him off, still pissed at him for lying to me.

"Fine.  Where’s my room?”  I snapped.

We had an entire floor to ourselves.  Between me, the Omegas, security, and other staff, we needed the whole floor.  I got a room to myself, but the boys all doubled up, two per room.  Our rooms were in the middle of the floor – away from the stairway and elevator.

My suitcase was already waiting on the bed for me.  A brand-new luxury branded suitcase full of new clothes and items I would need while on tour – when they weren’t telling me what I needed to wear at least.

As I unpacked and settled in, my phone pinged with a notification.  I had it set to only notify me for the posts the boys make or any lives that are started.  Any other notifications I didn’t really care about and were a bit overwhelming.

It was Chan on a spontaneous live.  Curious, I clicked on the notification and let the live play.  I could see several other Stray Kids already viewing it, probably just as curious as I was.  What prompted Chan to randomly go live?

He was currently talking to someone off camera – I’m assuming Seungmin since that is who he was rooming with – as he waited for people to join.  He sat on his bed, against the headboard and it didn’t look like he had even changed out of the clothes he wore on the plane yet.  I couldn’t make out Sungmin’s responses but could hear he was responding – probably from the other bed from the angle Chan was looking towards.

Suddenly, he sighed heavily and faced the camera.  “Y/n, come get Seungmin.  He is very upset.”

“Hyung!”  Seungmin complained.  He sounded thick and stuffed like he had been crying.  Like when you’re sick with a stuffy nose.

Easily giving in, remembering his miserable look in the lobby, I headed across the hall to their room.  The last thing he needed was to keep mentioning me in his live – especially after what happened at the airport.  I haven’t looked, but I’m sure it’s all over the internet by now.  Posted, gifed, memed, and reposted a thousand times over.  And I suppose since both Chan and J said they made Seungmin stay quiet, I could let him off the hook now.

When I opened the door Chan silently pointed at a lump under the blankets of the second bed in the room.  Seungmin was curled into a ball, completely hiding under his comforter.

Throwing my phone on the bed, I climbed up to lay on top of him, weighing him down securely with my own body weight and letting my scent soak into his blankets.

“My Minnie.”  I called quietly.

A second later Mins hand snuck out of his blanket cocoon; palm open in invitation.  When I took his hand, he immediately jerked both back under his blanket.  I could feel soft puffs of hair as he brought my hand – and scent – closer to his nose.

I patted the blanket where his head was.  “Silly boy.”  I murmured making myself comfortable.

Only then did I realize Chan was talking, starting his live now that fans had a chance to get on.  I had been too distracted taking care of Seungmin to notice.

“…one is alright.  No one was physically hurt in the incident.”  He was abnormally serious, making my interest pique again.  “What happened at the airport was regrettable and it affected not only Y/n – our Alpha – but us as well.”

Twisting at an odd angle so I didn’t rip my hand from Sungmin’s, I took advantage of Chans pause to grab my phone and read the comments.  At the same time the bedroom door opened, and the other Omegas filed in and joined Chan – adjusting the camera to get them all in frame.  Even Seungmin slid gracelessly out from under me to appear.  Together they projected a united front that left me feeling stunned.

“So far we have chosen to ignore the negativity and threats from some members of STAY, never wanting to stifle your opinions.”  Felix began explaining uncharacteristically dim for one of the sunshine twins.

“However, Y/n is one of us.  A Stray Kid.  And our Alpha.  The most important member to us.”  Chan continued.  “And like we would with any member – we will do what we need to to keep her safe.”

“The difference is – if she is forced to go on hiatus for her safety – we are all going on hiatus.  A full blown one.  And we don’t want that, for anyone.”  Lino explained.

Surprisingly, the comments were pretty supportive.  STAY was condemning the actions of the attacker and saying we handled the situation very well.  There were even several comments inquiring if I was okay.  I was touched by their concern.

Cautiously, I hoped this show of support for me continued.  That this attack will bring them to accept me as Stray Kids’ Alpha.  That I may have proved myself in some small way.

“JYPE is investigating the incident.  We will continue the tour as scheduled as of now.”  Chan announced, though he sounded stressed.  “Though anyone attending can expect a bit more security until we are sure all of Stray Kids are and will remain safe.”

Alright, that way more than enough seriousness for one live.  He made his announcements and explained the consequences.  It’s time to bring the room back up.  Launching myself off the second bed, I flung myself across Lino and Hyun’s’ laps, quickly scrambling to sit up and face the camera.

“Let me tell you how beautiful Melbourne is!”  I gushed immediately.  “I can’t wait to take pictures and share them with you!  The architecture alone is mind blowing!  They have a yellow Victorian building!  Yellow!”

"Flinders?”  Chan asked.

“Flinders – that’s it!”  I pointed at Chan.  “And Felix told me there’s street art – and oh!  The ocean!  It’s unlike any I’ve seen before!”

Chan chuckled.  “We are here for a reason, bug.  It’s not a vacation.”

I scoffed.  “To you it’s not, you’ve been here before.  I’m going to make the most of this trip!”

“I want to see the street art too!”  Hyun almost whined.

“Tough.  You will be in practice with the rest of us.”  Lino replied sternly.

Hyun mimicked him, making a face behind Linos back.  I snickered, rubbing my nose to cover it up.

Lino snapped around to glare at Hyune – who immediately smoothed his face and went silent, looking down.  “You’re getting scrambled eggs and tissues for breakfast!”  Lino declared.

Hyune whined and collapsed forward.  “Nooo!  I’m sorry!”

I reached back and patted his head with a laugh.  “Just think of it as extra fiber.”  I suggested.

“I’m sure we can manage to find some time for Y/n to sight see.”  Bin said rubbing Hyunes back.

Back to the camera I sighed.  “STAY – despite what happened, I am so excited to be here with Stray Kids and even meet some of you as well.”

The live ended pretty quickly after that.  The main goal of addressing the airport attack taken care of.  Everyone was tired from the long day.  I was ready to unpack the rest of my stuff and get something to eat.

Everyone left, back to their rooms, talking animatedly and too loudly.  After one more quick nuzzle, Seungmin disappeared into their bathroom.  I heard the water turn on a couple seconds later.

Chan was trying desperately to appear engrossed in his phone, but his need to make up with me and reestablish good contact permeated the room.  I really wanted to keep giving him the cold shoulder, I was still really upset about the whole thing.  But I was his Alpha, and he is only human.  And this early into the first times being significantly apart from each other with no reestablishing contact was a pretty harsh punishment.  And hopefully one he will remember so he doesn’t do this again in the future.  My trust, however, will take a lot longer to get back.

I sighed heavily.  “You lied to me Chan.  Treated me like a thing or a child.”

Immediately Chans phone was put down and he sat up straight, all pretenses of not being solely focused on me gone.  “I was trying to protect you.”

“I get that.  I understand and appreciate your wanting to keep me safe.  But this was something I needed to know.  I need to know anything like this so I can properly be aware and on guard.  You can’t – nor should you – shield me from everything.  I need to learn to navigate your world.”  I tried to explain.

“I know that now.  I was just worried they would bully you and scare you into doing what they want.  Staying home.  Leaving us.”

I deflated entirely.  “I’m not going to leave you.  And I won’t be bullied by some backwards thinking bigots.  Sorry to break it to you but you are stuck with me forever.”

Chan breathed out a laugh and looked at his hands twisting in his lap.  “I’m sorry.”  His voice cracked slightly with emotion.

I held my arms out in invitation, soft smile on my lips.  Chan immediately rolled forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and hiding his face in my lap.  I draped myself over his back.  “My trust will take longer to earn back, but as long as you don’t do something like this again you will eventually get it.”  My actions probably just fed his fears of abandonment, but he had to understand that what he did was not okay and couldn’t be repeated.

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General Taglist @stellasays45

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion @jasmin-loves-k-pop @cookey-lock @possum-playground @demigoddreamon-blog @rei-reia @dreamerwasfound @jasmin-loves-k-pop @ms-flowergirl @princess-sunshyn @technicallyimportantsweets @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @bluesoobinnie

[die-pink-maus]

A Weekend in Vienna 🇦🇹

While vacationing in Germany, Chantelle’s (OC) best friend, Adrian (also an OC), books an impromptu trip to Vienna to visit extended family. Chantelle decides to join her for the last few days of her trip, where she meets an interesting friend of Adrian’s family who offers to show the two around the city for the weekend🤭

TW: Pretty much none, not for this chapter anyway, but things will get 🌶️spicy🌶️ in the next parts. Also there is an age gap between OC and König, she is 25 and he is about 36-37.

CW: FemOCs, female pronouns used, while both characters are technically OCs please feel free to imagine them however you’d like, ultimately the main character is the reader, I just didn’t want to use “Y/N” so I gave them names 🙈

Word Count: 1,516

*DISCLAIMER*

This is my first time EVER writing any kind of fan fiction so please go easy on me 😭 if you like where things are going, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated! If you’d like to see anything in particular in the next part or part(s), I’d love to hear it!

This version of König is based on the above interpretation drawn by @lettaniko (I hope you don’t mind me using it! I absolutely love this drawing it’s perfect! 🫶🏼)

I like a nice build up to the smut so if you like to get right into it this is probably not going to be for you…but if you can wait I it out I promise it’ll be worth it 😂

Enjoy! 💋

7:30am. There’s approximately 30 minutes before my train departs for Vienna, and I still haven’t reached the train station yet. I scrambled as I dashed out of my hotel room, hoping I’d left the place in a somewhat decent state and I hadn’t forgotten anything valuable as got into the elevator. I’ve been exploring Munich for the past two weeks and I’ve been having the absolute time of my life. Although traveling alone can be quite scary, oddly enough, I’ve never felt more at home. Munich is such a vibrant city, filled with all kinds of exciting things to do and I’ve met so many incredible people, it’s definitely been the experience of a lifetime. To say that I am not looking forward to going back home to Vancouver would be an understatement, but all good things must come to an end. I’d spent about a year and a half learning to speak German, and promised myself that I would plan a trip in celebration of achieving fluency, so here I am! Now, Vienna wasn’t initially on my list of places to visit when I decided to come to Germany, but my best friend, Adrian, ended up booking a spur of the moment flight last week to visit extended family in Austria and suggested I come hangout with her during the last few days of my trip. Seeing as its only a 3-4hr train ride from Munich, I figured why the hell not! I’ve heard Vienna is beautiful, and Im at all not opposed to exploring another city.

Upon arrival at the train station in Vienna I was greeted by Arian, excitedly jumping up and down while holding up a large white sign that read “Willkommen in Wien, Schlampe!” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing as I got off the train and ran over to her, tackling her in a tight embrace as she laughed hysterically. “Did you have to let the whole station know that I’m a bitch or…?”

“Honestly, they should’ve known the moment they saw you.” She said jokingly. “How was the ride over?” She asked.

“Amazing, I haven’t slept that well in years. It also didn’t feel like a 4 hour train ride.”

“Trains in out here are quite quick so I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow took less time. They definitely shit on the ones we have back home.”

“Oh for sure.” I agreed as we began walking over to the car.

“So a family friend of ours just came back from a mission in the states, he’s in the military bee tee dubs —“

“Yeah kinda pieced that together when you said ‘mission’.” I chuckled.

“I don’t drive out here so he’s gonna give us a ride back to my aunts, cool?”

“Sounds good.”

“He’s also a lot more familiar with Vienna than I am, so he offered to show us around a bit later on this evening.” Aw how nice of him. Knowing Adrian, the first place she’ll want to be taken to is the nearest bar, that girl can drink! If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in Germany, and my 10 years of friendship with Adrian, it’s that Europeans love their liquor. There are people from all parts of Europe in Germany and that’s one thing that remains quite consistent across the board. I also love my liquor, which is probably why I ended up fitting in so well.

We finally arrived at the car and opened the trunk to begin loading all of my luggage inside. I’d brought a small carryon suitcase, a duffle bag, as well as a large suitcase that was full of clothes I’d over packed from home, and a bunch of other clothes and souvenirs I’d bought in Munich. “Okay this one’s gonna be a tad heavy.” I warned as Adrian grabbed hold of the handle on the top. I reached forward to try to help her lift, but neither of us could manage the weight. “I got it.” His voice was low, but gentle. He had an accent, but it wasn’t overwhelming or harsh, nor did it make anything he said hard to understand. I wasn’t expecting to see the person I saw when I’d finally caught a glimpse of him…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like this in my entire life. Adrian and I stepped back as he grabbed hold of the suitcase, lifting it with absolute ease, as if it were light as a feather. His arm muscles bulged within the confines of his olive green long sleeved shirt as he tossed the suitcase inside the trunk. My heart began to race, It felt as if I was watching him move in slow motion. “Easy peasy.” He smirked as he turned around and looked down at me, his dazzling dark blue eyes awash with amusement at Adrian and I’s prior struggle. Jesus Christ…This man is an absolute unit. He’s gotta be at least 6 foot 7, if not taller. He’s incredibly easy on the eyes in a rough and rugged kinda way — a nice low trimmed beard, medium length dark brown hair, and a smile that is captivatingly dangerous to say the least. His presence alone exudes a confidence that causes me to grow weak in the knees. “I’m König,” he smiled knowingly as he stretched his hand out towards me. I know I’m definitely not the first woman to look at him the way I am. Even though I’m trying to keep my composure, it’s very clear that he can see right through it. “And you must be Chantelle?” He asked, eyes slowly roaming about my frame from head to toe. He bites his lip slightly as they return to my gaze, suggesting so much without saying any words at all. “I — yes.” I blushed, sheepishly brushing my hair behind my ear as I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He said. “Oh yeah, König Chantelle, Chantelle König.” Adrian yelled from the backseat. He laughed and shook his head as he closed the trunk.

We arrived at Adrian’s aunts house about 45 minutes later. König helped us load all of my things into the foyer before letting us know he’d be coming back in a few hours to take us out to this bar that he and a few of his buddies on his task force frequent whenever they’re home. I’ve been thinking about him ever since he left — those mysterious blue eyes, the way he slightly bites his lower lip just before laughing at something ridiculous Adrian has said, the way his arm muscles swell beneath his shirt with the slightest movement…God, he’s sexy. I could think of a million different ways I’d want him to ruin me. The thought alone of being trapped beneath his large brawny frame writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into me over and over has me clenching around nothing. Though I’m not usually one for a one time fling, I have a feeling he’d be able to convince me. “So, you wanna tell me what all of that was about?” Adrian asked as she helped me settle into the guest room. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Since when are you a shy girl?” She giggled. Sigh. I figured she was referencing my unusual silence during the car ride over here. “He’s hot as fuck but I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Ugh!” I groaned as I covered my face with a pillow. She’s right. I’m not very easily intimidated. I’m quite the confident woman and I ensure everyone in the room knows it, but this was different. Almost as if our energies were fighting for dominance, and mine didn’t stand a chance. “Hey if it’s any consolation, my jaw dropped the first time I saw him without his mask too.” Mask?

“Mask?” I asked.

“Yes…the last time I was here he was on base training recruits, so I’d see him often in full tactical gear. He’s a snipper, so he wears a mask to hide his face in the field. I mean, that was hot too, but in a Ghostface kinda way”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison, but I was curious to see what his entire ensemble looked like. “How old is he?” I asked.

“I think he’s in his mid to late 30s? I’m honestly not too sure, and it doesn’t matter to me either way.” She winked. “I was sensing some unspoken vibes between the two of you in the car though. Don’t think I didn’t see both of you stealing glances at each other every now and then.” She smirked.

“Stop,” I scoffed. “A man like that is definitely not single, and even if he is…I don’t know” I blushed. “I didn’t see him looking at me..”

“K well I see everything, he definitely likes what he sees, and clearly the feeling is mutual on your end as well. Looks like tonight will be interesting.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Adrian.” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. Nothing’s gonna happen…right?

PART II 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART II

PART III 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART III

[twistedtummies2]

The Dragon's Masque (AU; Malleus X Fem!Reader)

This is the first entry to a new AU I've had in mind for a few years now: an AU for Twisted Wonderland featuring Malleus Draconia as the Phantom of the Opera. It took a long time for me to figure out how I wanted to introduce this world, what points I wanted to hit right from the start, and what characters were really essential, since I've actually put a LOT of thought into this world. Hopefully this first story will prove an acceptable beginning.

This AU is inspired by various versions of the Phantom story, including the popular ALW musical, a 1990 miniseries starring Charles Dance, the 1943 film starring Claude Rains, and even a few nods to the book and other interpretations here and there. I've also included various little references, some more obvious than others, to a number of Disney movies; let's see how many of them you catch. ;) Two unique things: first of all, while there are some sort of implied kinks involved here, there is nothing DIRECTLY kinky in this tale. I decided to keep this first tale "safe," so to speak. It's also unique because, for the first time, the POV Main Character isn't a gender neutral figure: in this universe, the MC is the stand-in for Christine, and for various reasons, I felt it was best to keep the character as a female. So, if you're a lady yourself, or if you just don't mind that perspective...good! XD With that in mind, in honor of Malleus Draconia's birthday...here's the beginning of what I'm tagging as the Dragon's Masque AU. Hope you all enjoy!

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“Ugh…you’d think somebody as prissy as Madame Bette would clean up things better…” You glanced over your shoulder and couldn’t help but smile. Ace Trappola was slumping his way onto the stage of the grand and glorious opera house in which you both stood. The two of you lived and worked in the Corbeau de la Nuit Opera Company: a prestigious place that many in the city of Sage would have gladly given an arm and a leg to serve in. Of course, there was nothing particularly prestigious about your current position: dressed in a dusty apron as you swept and mopped the stage floor for the night. All was quiet. All of the ballet corps members and the other workers and residents of the opera house had gone off to bed, either in their private rooms or in their homes off-property. As far as you were aware, only yourself and Ace were left. You half-chuckled as he sat down on a large basket full of unwashed laundry, and fanned his face with a cap. Some of his red orange hair stuck to his brow, partially obscuring the heart-shaped tattoo he wore over one eye. “You know,” you brought up, pausing in your work and leaning on the broom, “You don’t HAVE to do this. You’re not a stagehand like I am.” Ace opened his eyes and smirked; a slightly roguish smile which carried a charm all its own. “And leave you lonely?” he teased. “Come on, we both know you’d just be sick without me around.” You rolled your eyes. “I’d get to hear you complain less,” you responded. “That sounds like a relief to be honest.” “Ha! We both know my complaining is the only thing that helps you sleep at night!” “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.” Ace laughed and slapped his cap on his head. He was dressed a little better than you were, his red shirt and fine vest and trousers a contrast to the ragged old dress you wore. Aside from a bit of dust on his pant knees, he seemed to be much cleaner. “Well,” he sighed, as he rolled up his sleeves. “I better take these costumes to the washroom.” “Why?” “Uh…because that’s how you clean laundry? Jeeze, I know you’re not the smartest tool in the shed but-” You held out your broomstick in a teasingly threatening gesture; Ace immediately shut his gob and held his hands up in surrender. “I mean,” you smirked, and then your tone became more sincere, “Why do you help out like this? You’re Monsieur Fortesque’s stand-in, not a cleaner.” Your tone became teasing again as you added, “I’d almost think you just wanted to hang out with me more.” Ace’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.

“Wh-wha…? HA! Hey now, d-don’t be silly!” he sputtered, and then quickly composed himself. “Ahem…if you really wanna know, Bette and Fortesque pay me to do this.” “They do?” “Yeah,” snorted Ace, and jabbed his thumb over his shoulder with a slight sneer. “Seems the Prima Donna and her favorite tenor like getting back to their fancy-pants townhouse as soon as they can, and - don’t know if you noticed - but you’re kind of the only stagehand we’ve got on the late shift most nights.” You shrugged. You had noticed, but you didn’t especially mind: Manager Crowley had arranged things as such. At the time you came to the Corbeau de la Nuit, you didn’t have any other place to go. You’d come here looking for a job, without a home, without much money to fend for yourself…and presently, in the 1880s, there weren’t very many obvious opportunities to strike out on your own for your gender. If he wanted to make you the sole stage-cleaner each night, you saw no grounds to complain. “So,” Ace continued, “They made a deal that if I help clean up the dressing rooms after they were done with each rehearsal or performance, they’d kick a little extra cash my way, on top of my salary for working here. Besides, not like I’ve got a lot else to do, since I haven’t had a chance to do much ‘standing in’ to begin with…” A glimmer of disappointed sadness flickered over Ace’s handsome features. Your smile softened; while most opera companies had rotating casts and chances for alternate players, Fortesque and Bette were notoriously stingy when it came to giving up time onstage. In that way, the tenor and the lead soprano of the opera house were a perfect couple: each craved the spotlight as much as the other, and neither would dream of giving it up to an even slightly lower-class young man like Ace. They were snobs, as well as selfish hams. You propped up the broom you held against one of the wings, and then trotted over to Ace to place a hand on his shoulder. He blinked and looked up, a bit surprised by the action. You smiled kindly. “One day, you’ll get your chance,” you promised him. “And I hope I’m there to see it happen.” Ace swallowed almost imperceptibly, as his cheeks flushed again. He grumbled something and tugged at his cap to try and hide his blush. “Yeah, well…can’t come soon enough,” he muttered, then smirked. “Hey, maybe we could perform together.” You giggled. Now it was your turn to blush. “I’m a stagehand, not a singer.” “Tell that to my ears,” Ace snorted, then his tone sudden became more sincere. “Seriously, your voice isn’t half bad. You could do something with it.” “If I had a chance, maybe,” you admitted, then shrugged. “But I don’t think anybody here is gonna give the lonely janitor who cleans up their footprints every night much of a shot.” Ace nodded sympathetically, then smirked. “Well, hey, if I keep having to do stuff like this,” he teased, gesturing towards the laundry basket, “Maybe you and I could swap out: you could sing, and I could do the cleaning! Heck, if they’re asking me to help like that, clearly I’m doing a better job than you!” You responded by swatting him with a washcloth. You took a little more pleasure than you liked to admit in the almost comical yelp he let out in surprise. “Just go get those dresses cleaned up!” you snapped, but you couldn’t help smile. “Then you can get to bed.” “You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll finish up here. Shouldn’t be too much longer.” Ace shrugged and agreed; he clearly cared more about sleeping than sticking around at that point, judging from the monstrous yawn he let out before picking up the laundry basket and staggering offstage with it, heading for the washroom elsewhere in the opera house. Once again, you were alone in the grand auditorium of the opera house. Gilded grotesques looked down on you with sightless eyes as you finished sweeping, and then began to swab the proverbial deck with the mop. A few times, your eyes drifted up to the audience, or down into the orchestra pit, checking to make sure nothing was amiss that needed your attention: sometimes cats, mice, and other small, stray critters liked to sneak in, and while they rarely ever made it into the opera seats, you didn’t want to take the blame if they did. Not that you likely would, to be fair. More likely the blame would fall upon the Opera Ghost. A soft, chortling sort of laugh left you as you paused in your work, glancing up towards one particular spot of the audience: one of the box seats. Box Five. It was said that this was the preferred “haunting place” of the so-called “Phantom of the Opera.” Few had seen him and lived to tell the tale, and those who claimed they had seen him always described him the same way: a tall, dark figure, with raven locks, dressed in the elegant garments of a dapper aristocrat. His teeth were like swords, the devil-like horns upon his head were like spears, and the sound of his voice could change from a deadly hiss to a shocking thunderbolt. The most startling point of the supposed Ghost’s appearance, however, was the chalky mask he wore upon his face. This was the one point where all the stories differed: everyone said he wore a mask, but what was underneath it? You’d once heard Ruggie Bucchi - one of the members of the workers in the flies - describe him as having skin like yellow parchment, and claim that “a great black hole served as the nose that never grew.” Of course, Ruggie was given to exaggeration, and other descriptions were certainly present: in one description, he had a single eye, peering out with a heat like acid. In another, he had a hooked nose and bristly red hair, like some sort of goblin or beast. You didn’t buy any of these stories. There were many fantastic creatures and strange people in the world, to be sure…but somehow, you still didn’t feel there was any reason to believe in ghosts.

As you returned to your work, however, you couldn’t put the musings of the mysterious, supposed spectre out of your mind. You knew that many strange things happened in the opera house, at random intervals, which simply didn’t seem to have an explanation. Backdrops would come undone, though everybody in the flies insisted they’d been secured. Instruments, props, and even costume pieces would vanish without a trace; sometimes they’d never be seen again, other times they would be relocated…but in places where they frankly should not and logically could not have been. And many a ballet dancer would tell you that they had heard strange sounds and a disembodied voice from somewhere beneath their feet, or spotted a shadow that seemed to come out of nowhere, gliding along the wall. You didn’t know how many of these were just coincidences or the work of some prankster, but one thing you WERE sure of was that there had to be a rational explanation of some sort. Perhaps that was why you didn’t mind being alone, onstage, so late at night. Time passed silently at first as you mopped the stage…then, as you were about halfway finished, you suddenly heard a familiar sound: music, playing somewhere in the opera house. You paused to listen; the music seemed to come from an organ, and it was distant enough that you knew it was not coming from the orchestra, or anywhere TOO close by. At the same time, though, you couldn’t quite figure out where it WAS coming from: the music drifted through the audience seats and down into your ears, like vapor slowly slithering its way onto the stage from the farthest points of the wings, or water trickling from the not-gargoyles above.

Had you been any of the silly little ballet rats, you would have likely been spooked…indeed, even Ace might have been a bit put off. As it stood, you just smiled and chuckled; there was a chapel somewhere in the vast, sprawling expanse of the opera house. You’d never been there yourself, but you figured that was where the music likely came from. What was a church without an organ, right? You had, in fact, heard the music in the past, and it never concerned you: whoever was playing, and whyever they were playing, it was none of your business. So you shrugged and, as you had so often before, continued to work. As you did so, however, you suddenly realized the tune being played was one you recognized. In fact, it was a song you knew very well; you could remember your father singing it to you, as a lullaby, long ago. A smile painted your face as you began to move to the music, and then began to hum…and after a while, you began to sing to the melody itself… “I Wonder…I Wonder…I Wonder, why each little bird has a someone? To sing to, sweet things to! A gay little love melody!” Your eyes turned upwards as you stopped in your work, lost in the music; memories poured through your mind, and your eyes became slightly misty. You seemed to peer straight through the high and far-off ceiling of the opera house…past the the magnificent, crystal-strung chandelier which hung over your head, its gaslights dimmed till you finished your work and went to douse it completely… “I Wonder…I Wonder…if my heart keeps singing, will my song go winging? To someone, who’ll find me…and bring back a love song to-!” “Mademoiselle.” Startled, you jumped slightly and gasped. You hadn’t realized the music had stopped, nor had you realized anyone was in the room with you. At first you thought it might be Ace, but he never called you something so polite. You looked around, trying to spot the source of the voice.

“Who…who’s there?” you called out, holding tightly to the mop as if you might defend yourself with it.

A soft, amused laugh clucked its way through the stage area. Like the pipe organ before it, the sound seemed to drift out from everywhere, and yet nowhere, all at once.

“A friend. I hope,” the voice said. Its sound was low and dark, but with a sort of velvety smoothness that was comforting; a warm but somehow powerful voice, cozy yet great and terrible at the same time.

You paused, tilting your head…then, feeling a little silly, you lowered the broom.

“Where are you?” you asked, glancing about, trying to spot the source of the voice. “Don’t be afraid.”

The voice laughed louder than before.

“I am not afraid,” it replied, as if the very idea was a joke.

“Well, then come out,” you insisted.

The voice paused, then replied, almost matter-of-factly, “But then YOU will be afraid.”

“No I won’t,” you said, earnestly. “You say you’re a friend? Then prove it. Show yourself to me.”

Another pause, then the voice intoned, “As you wish.”

You heard footsteps, and suddenly realized they came from a spot above you. You looked up…and your eyes widened as you peered up into Box Five. From the shadows of the unlit box, you saw a figure emerge, slipping into a spot of dim illumination, thus coming into view. It seemed to slide from the shadows themselves, till you could make them out. They stood like a man, but they were dressed in dark clothes, making it hard to properly see them. The one thing you COULD see was the pale mask upon their face, and the glowing green eye that peered down at you from behind it. Your heart seized in your chest. “I know who you are,” you said, your soft voice carrying breathily through the performance chamber. The mask shifted as the figure cocked their head to one side. You saw the light glisten upon a pair of sharp, crooked-looking horns. “Do you?” they said, simply. You nodded, and a smile came to your face. “Well, I know what they CALL you, anyway,” you said, amiably. “You’re the Phantom of the Opera.” You couldn’t be totally sure, due to the darkness and the distance, but you swore the figure smirked slightly. “Guilty as charged,” they replied. “I’m surprised you’re still able to hide your fear.” “What makes you think I’m scared of you?” “Most everyone is.” “Most everyone are idiots,” you replied, blandly. The one visible eye of the “ghost” widened, then he barked out a laugh that echoed through the hall. It was a sound that likely would have chilled most people who heard it to the bone, but you really weren’t bothered at all. In fact, the sound was quite lovely; it almost seemed to carry a musicality of its own. And the laugh was not a sinister, cruel, or mocking laugh, either; the Phantom seemed genuinely and simply amused. “I suppose this cannot be denied,” he chuckled, and his head tilted the other way. “I did not realize someone so…intrepid was living in my opera house. Let alone someone with such a magical voice.” You blushed, and fidgeted on your feet. “You, uh…you heard a little bit of me singing, did you?” “I did,” the Phantom confirmed, simply, and you saw the head tilt in an elegant bow. “Heh heh…well, uh…I’m sorry about that-” “Don’t be.”

The voice said the words almost like a command. Immediately, you felt your mouth click shut. Then the voice became softer, lighter. You couldn’t be sure, but you swore you detected just the faintest tremor in it… Could it be the Phantom was…nervous? “Daughter of Man,” the Phantom began, in that strange tone, “You have a truly ASTONISHING voice. It is like an Angel’s: exquisite in color, tone, and shape…in fact, in almost every detail. Except, of course - and you will forgive me for the observation - it is clearly untrained.” “I’ve never really had a chance to-” “Please. Let me continue.” You did. The Phantom took a breath - you saw the fingers of a white-gloved hand brush against the guard rail of the box - before he went on. “Without proper training, your voice - despite its beauty - will wither away like old grapes upon the vine. It might never achieve the grand heights which I believe it can attain, if you allow it to blossom and grow. If you will allow me…I think I can help you.” Your expression showed your surprise, but you remained silent. You sensed the Phantom still had more to say. “As you have likely gathered, I am no TRUE spirit,” the Phantom confessed, then paused for just as second before elaborating: “I am many things, however…among them, a musician, and not one without my own training as a singer. I will gladly teach you all that I can, but there are a few conditions.” “Conditions?” you checked back, almost without meaning to. “Yes,” nodded the Not-Ghost from on high. “I have never taken on any students, for until tonight I never wanted to.” You gathered the weight in his words and smiled. “I’m not allowed to tell anyone who’s teaching me,” you figured out. “Precisely. And you are not allowed to bring anyone to where I shall teach you. Our sessions will be thoroughly private: just the two of us, alone. It would be awkward if a so-called ‘ghost’ became known as a mere music teacher, after all.” “I can understand that,” you admitted. You weren’t sure, but you thought the Phantom arched one eyebrow. “You are not…concerned?” he quizzed. “Not especially,” you said. “I think if you wanted to hurt me in any way, you would have done so already. There’s no need to go through all this if that’s your goal. And as far as I can remember, the ‘Opera Ghost’ never has hurt anybody who didn’t deserve it first.” “Your faith in me is already greatly appreciated. Am I to presume that you will accept my offer, Daughter of Man?” You nodded. There was no deep thinking involved. “I can’t think of a single reason to say no. Unless, of course, the price-” “There will be no price. No money. All I ask is that you be on time for our lessons, and we can work out a schedule tomorrow evening.” “Thank you,” you almost sighed with relief, then paused before asking. “Do you…really think my voice is…that good? That I can…do more with it?”

“I do not think it, Mademoiselle. I KNOW it.” A great swelling of pride leapt into your chest. “What is your name, my dear?” the Phantom asked. You gave it. The Phantom repeated it to himself; the crisp, cool way your name sounded upon his unseen lips gave you shivers of many kinds. “Now, what is your name?” you thought to ask. “Mine?” the Phantom replied. He seemed startled you would ask. “Well, unless you want me to just call you ‘Monsieur Fanotome,’ or something, but that seems kind of silly. Surely you have a name of your own.” Once again, you couldn’t be entirely certain, but you swore that in the one eye you saw gazing down upon you, something affectionate flickered. “I do, certainly,” the Phantom said, and took a breath: “My name - Child of Man, Angel of Music - is…”

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“Want to know a secret?” “Coo-coo!” “Promise not to tell?” “Coo-coo!” “We are standing by a wishing well!” You had never thought this day would come. You certainly never dreamed it would come this quickly. You did your best to hide your nerves, as you sat before the set piece of the well, and spoke to the puppeteered doves perched upon its edge. All the while, you were keenly aware of the presence of the audience, all gazing upon you with judgemental eyes…in a full house…in the grandest opera venue the city, perhaps even the country, had ever known. You tried to push the nerves out of your system; to stay in-character, to stay with the scene, as you twittered to the puppet-birds in a tone that almost matched their symphonic cooing. “Make a wish into the well! That’s all you have to do! And if you hear it echoing? Your wish may soon come true!” As you relaxed and let your voice flow, you thought of how you’d reached this point…while the chorus, hidden in the wings, echoed your singing… “I’m Wishing…” “I’m wishing!” “...For the one I love, to find me…” “To find me!” “...Today.” “Today!” Bette had been selected to play this role, of course, with her husband Fortesque as the leading man. But one prank too many from the mysterious opera ghost had finally done the trick for both, it seemed: after a sandbag nearly rendered the Madame unconscious, both she and her husband declared they were leaving the company, and would not be returning without a raise. (And considering how rich they already were, the likelihood of Crowley giving them one was next to nil.) While this was not the first time the two had gone through a blowup of this nature…the great problem was that the newest performance of a much-beloved opera, “La Belle au Bois Dormant,” was due to perform that night. Bette and her husband-accomplice likely hoped that would force Crowley into taking action. He did, but not the action they’d likely expected…and now, here you were. Your voice trained by your “special teacher,” and ready to show what all the work you’d both done could amount to. “I’m hoping…” “I’m hoping!”

“...And I’m dreaming of the nice things…” “The nice things!” “...He’ll say.” “He’ll say!” You then began to vocalize wordlessly, the riffs and calls once more echoed by the chorus. You did not turn to see, but you could faintly hear footsteps approaching you from behind. You knew who it was, of course. After all…the departure of the two stars meant that you weren’t the only one who would get to finally show your stuff in the spotlight. “I’m Wishing…” “I’m Wishing!” “...For the one I love, to find me…” “To find me!” “...Today.” “TODAY!” You jumped, startled, as you turned…and beheld the young, handsome figure of a man with terracotta-hued hair, dressed in a crimson-and-gold outfit that could only be worn by the wealthiest in the kingdom. Your eyes were immediately arrested by the warm, friendly, somewhat playful look in his own cherry-colored irises. “Oh…OH!” you exclaimed, as you got to your feet. You started to break away…but the young man (Ace, of course, in his costume) took hold of your hand, still smiling. “I’m awfully sorry!” the “Prince” told you, the “Beauty in the Woods.” His smile became almost embarrassed, yet encouraging, as he added: “I didn’t mean to frighten you.” “Oh, it wasn’t that!” you replied, somewhat shyly. “It’s just that you’re a…well, uh…” “A stranger?” the Prince finished, with a chuckle. “Mm-hm! And…and my aunts have always warned me not to talk to strangers!” “Very smart of them. But don’t you remember? We’ve met before!” You stopped short at that. “W-we…we have?” you blinked, innocently. “Of course!” the prince chortled, and then smiled in the most charming way possible as he looked deep into your eyes as he began to sing: “I know you, I walked with you Once Upon a Dream…” You squeaked as the “Prince” spun you around, and began to dance with you. He winked boyishly as he led you across the stage; around the forest floor, spinning around the well in a waltz.

“I know you! The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam!”

You smiled back at him, and soon fell into step with the charming youth, as he continued to croon.

“And I know it’s true, that visions are seldom all they seem! But if I know you, I know what you’ll do…”

He scooped you up close, pressing your bodies against one another with a tender, passionate smile.

“You’ll love me at once, the way you did Once Upon a Dream.”

Now it was your turn; a flicker of encouragement in Ace’s eyes, which weren’t due to his character, seemed to pass the ball to you, as he spun you around, and you twirled away. As you came to a stop, you curtseyed with a mischievous laugh.

“Yes, I know you,” you parroted back, letting your soprano ring out clear and true with each note. “I walked with you Once Upon a Dream!”

You scampered behind a tree on the set. Ace hurried after you, and peeked behind it…only for you to pop up from the other side and tickle him behind his ear, making him yelp and laugh.

“I know you! The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam!”

The Prince grinned almost wickedly and lunged, as if he meant to hug you, but you dove out of the way and swished behind him…before jokingly placing your hands over his eyes. This time, you led him around as he blindly stumbled a bit.

“And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem…”

Finally, you spun him around, and took his hands, and the two of you waltzed together once more.

“...But if I know you, I know what you’ll do. You’ll love me at once…”

Your hand reached up to caress his cheek, and a lovestruck look crossed Ace’s face as he seemed to blush.

“...The way you did Once Upon a Dream.” With a final twirl, the two of you embraced. The audience applauded in an instant.

As you held Ace tightly, waiting for the applause to die down and the maestro to strike up the next bit of music on the program, you whispered into his ear…

“We finally made it. They love us.”

“Well, that’s not too surprising,” he whispered back, breath tickling your own ear now, and you could feel his lashes flicker as he winked jokingly. “We always knew they’d love me.”

You subtly pinched him for that one, and he pouted slightly before playing it off as part of the character with a laugh.

As the two of you got ready for the next tune, two separate figures were watching you intently from the audience. They seemed to care little about Ace, their attention fully enraptured by you, as you laughed, smiled, and sang along.

One of them had a fond, nostalgic look on his face, as he stared at you with wonder-filled eyes, colored peacock green. The tattoo of a spade was inked around one of his eyes, as he applauded you with an admiring grin.

“BRAVO!” he called out, then his voice lowered as he spoke to himself, eyes seeming to glisten. “Can it be…can it really be you…?” As he wondered and mused, the second figure never even noticed. White-gloved palms clapped together with an authoritative sound…illuminated by the dim lighting of Box Five. The area’s sole occupant, the one and only audience member present in the box seats there, smiled, grin curling upwards with pride…and something softer. Something…almost reverent. “Brava. Brava,” the lips parted to whisper in a sibilant yet sweet way. “Bravissima, my Angel…”

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KNOCK-KNOCKITY-KNOCK-KNOCK!

“Who’s there?”

“Just me, Ace! You decent?”

“Well, I’ve got clothes on, if that’s what you mean.”

Ace took the jocular invitation and opened the door to Madame Bette’s dressing room…or rather, on this evening, YOUR dressing room. You had changed out of your costume into a long, white dress, and had been busy tidying up, cleaning off your makeup and pulling the wig-pins out of your hair. You smiled as your scene partner entered, dressed in a white undershirt, and still in his costume bottoms.

“How dashing, my Prince,” you teased with a wink.

Ace just chuckled and rubbed the back of his head.

“Yeah, well…forgive me if I wanted to pop in and say you did an AWESOME job tonight! I hate to admit it, but I kinda wasn’t sure if you’d be up to the challenge. You really saved us and pulled through!”

“Hey, the show must go on,” you shrugged, and smiled as you continued speaking to him, though your gaze now turned to the mirror. “Besides, I’ve been working on my voice for months now. I’m glad I finally got a chance to show what I can do. It was nerve-wracking, though!”

“I bet it was,” nodded Ace, then frowned. “Speaking of all that training, when are you going to introduce me to this guy who’s been teaching you? I wanna shake his hand for tonight.”

“I don’t think he does handshakes,” you chuckled. “And I told you, he prefers to keep a low profile.”

“Psh. Must be REALLY low, if you won’t even say his NAME,” huffed Ace. He paused, then bit his lip, and cleared his throat. “Ahem…so, uh…anyway, I…kinda had a question for you.”

“Oh?” you vocalized, inquiringly, looking up at him in a somewhat puzzled fashion. He was shifting rather anxiously on both of his feet. “What’s the matter? Did I miss something in the libretto, or-?”

“No, no! You were…absolutely perfect there,” Ace answered, with a slightly high-strung laugh that wasn’t like him at all. “It’s just…well…I was thinking-”

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKITY-KNOCK!

Both of you jumped, a bit surprised, as another knock came at the door. You couldn’t help but frown slightly; how many visitors were you going to have before you even finished getting out of costume?

“Hello?”

“Excuse me,” a voice called from the other side. “I hope I’m not interrupting, but can I come in?”

You and Ace looked at each other. He shrugged, clearly not sure what was going on.

“I suppose,” you answered, slowly.

The door opened once more, and another young man entered the room. He had dark hair, and eyes of a blue-green hue. A spade was tattooed over one of his eyes, and he dressed in a rather fine-looking blue suit: the sort only the nobility seemed able to afford. His smile was kind and slightly apprehensive as he stepped onto the scene…carrying a bouquet of blue roses. “Madamoiselle,” he greeted you, and his smile became teasing. “Where has your scarf gone?” Your eyes lit up and a wide smile stretched across your face. You could hardly believe it! “Deuce!” you exclaimed and jumped to your feet before rushing over and giving him a hug. “Oh, you made it! I wasn’t sure if you knew!” Deuce jumped slightly as he was hugged so tightly…then blushed red as a beet and tried to pull away. “Hey…h-hey, no getting mushy on me!” he chided. “You owe me, by the way, y’know I can’t stand opera!” “Unless I’M in it, right?” you joked, pulling back with a knowing smile. Deuce smiled back. “Well, if you’re in it, I’ll always try my best,” he promised. You smiled wider, then heard a cough that caught both of your attentions. Ace was standing nearby, waving, a sort of befuddled, somewhat frustrated look on his face. “Uh…hi? How are you?” he greeted, in a sarcastic manner. “Mind telling me who you are and what’s goin’ on?” Deuce nodded his head respectfully. “Deuce Spade. I’m a Viscount of the Queendom of Roses. I, uh…” He blushed and looked at you as he offered the flowers. “...I’ve known the star here for…a long time.” You giggled and took the roses gratefully, then turned to Ace and explained: “Deuce and I grew up together. My father was a musician who was patroned by his family, until…well…” “I see,” Ace replied, then narrowed his eyes at Deuce. “Funny, they’ve never mentioned you before.” “Well, we haven’t seen each other in a while, but we try to keep in touch through post,” Deuce shrugged, then his eyes lit up with excitement as he looked at you again. “Oh! Did you get that last letter I sent you? About that amazing new ‘gas-powered carriage’ my parents got? It is SO COOL! The thing moves faster than any horse, I even got to drive it here!” “Really!” you exclaimed, impressed. “You’ll have to show it to me sometime!” “I can show it to you right now,” Deuce said, with a smirk, and tossed his head back towards the door. “See, I was thinking we could go get something to eat, kinda celebrate your victory and…y’know…catch up a bit?”

You smiled apologetically as you took Deuce’s blue-gloved hand. “I’d love to, Deuce, but-” “-BUT,” Ace broke in, and you froze up as he slung one arm around your shoulder with a cocky smile, pointing to himself. “I’m afraid little miss Lead Soprano here already agreed to go out to dinner with ME for the evening!” “She did?” Deuce asked, looking disappointed. “I did?” you blinked, completely baffled. “Well, you were just about to,” sniffed Ace. “That’s what I was gonna ask you before I was so RUDELY interrupted.” He glared at Deuce with the sort of aggravated jealousy a schoolboy has when their favorite playmate is hanging out with somebody else. Deuce glared back in a similar manner. “What makes you think they would have said yes to that?” he asked, crossing his arms with a stern sort of scowl. “Well, I bet they’d rather hang out tonight with a FELLOW CAST MEMBER than some hoity-toity rich kid they haven’t seen in ages!” “That’s uncalled for!” snapped Deuce, jabbing a finger in Ace’s direction. “Besides, I think they’d much rather get to see an amazing new invention and eat somewhere nice for a change!” “‘Somewhere nice’?! Are you implying I wouldn’t take them somewhere nice?!” “Well, no offense, but I can probably afford better.” “I TAKE GREAT OFFENSE AT THAT!” “Sorry, sorry!” Deuce exclaimed, sounding genuinely contrite as he put up his hands. You couldn’t help but smile; he’d never liked to flaunt his own wealth. If anything, he was embarrassed by it. One of the reasons you liked him. “All the same,” Deuce went on, in a steady way, clearly trying to stay polite. “I’d love a chance to see my childhood friend again and chat about everything we’ve missed out on the past several years.” “And maybe you’ll get that chance. But not tonight,” harumphed Ace. “You don’t control her!” Deuce sneered. “Neither do you!” Ace sniped. “Why not ask what SHE wants?” Deuce growled. “I know what she wants!” “No, you don’t, and talking like that is going to get you a smack in the head, Ace.” Trappola subsided, flinching like a guilty dog being scolded by its owner, as you finally spoke up. Deuce smirked with triumph…but only for a fleeting moment as you turned to him again. “With that said, I’m sorry, Deuce, but I can’t go out to dinner tonight. I actually already have an engagement.”

Deuce’s eyes shot very wide and his face turned red. “Y-You’re…engaged?! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME THAT?!” “No, no, not engaged! Just…I meant I’m going out with somebody else for dinner tonight!”

“Yay!” Ace grinned.

“Not you,” you told him, blandly.

“Boo,” Ace pouted.

You couldn’t help but smirk with some affection before once more returning your attention to Deuce. You held up the flowers and thanked him for them before adding, “Maybe we can arrange a chance next week. Or, hey…this probably won’t be my only show, with everything going on. We’ll find another time.”

Deuce still looked a bit disappointed, but he also seemed somewhat relieved…presumably at the knowledge that you weren’t anyone’s fiance.

“Alright,” he conceded, then bit his lip before almost shyly asking, “Are you…sure you won’t come and see the new car? That’s what they call it; I guess it’s short for ‘carriage.’”

He mumbled the last several words and shrugged one shoulder. He looked so deeply disappointed you couldn’t help but chuckle softly. You placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded.

“Next time,” you said. “I promise.”

Deuce clearly felt a bit better hearing that.

“Now,” you said, and looked at both him and Ace. “Can you both go? I need to finish getting out of everything so I can make that dinner date.”

“Whatever,” shrugged Ace.

“Sure thing,” nodded Deuce.

The two turned around and headed for the door at the exact same time…then grunted as they each bumped into each other in the process. They backed up and gave each other much-too-patient smiles, their eyes filled with something close to a desire for homicide.

“After you, ‘Viscount,’” Ace slithered.

“No, after you, ‘sir,’” Deuce responded in a similar fashion.

They each nodded to each other…and promptly both tried to get out the door at the same time again, and bumped into one another even harder than before.

You facepalmed and had to bite your lip to hold back peals of giggles as, with much flailing of hands and fumbling of feet, the two finally managed to wedge themselves free from the room and out of the door.

“Goodnight!” you called to them, in a cheerful tone, as you watched them each give each other vengeful, envious glares before you shut the door at long last.

As soon as the two were gone, a sigh of relief left you. Off and on, throughout the little bickering session, you’d been glancing at the clock on the dressing room wall.

He’d be here any moment now, you were sure of it. “That was a close one,” you murmured to yourself. “Indeed. I was half tempted to take my true form and swallow them whole; my ears are going to ache for a month.” You whirled about, startled. There was a long, tall mirror in the dressing room, attached to a wall. The glass panel had slid aside, revealing a dark passage beyond.

Out of the passage he stepped: a tall, lean-but-muscular figure, garbed in a fancy black tuxedo, with white gloves. A long, purple cape stretched back behind his shoulders, and upon his head was a black fedora with a purple hatband…with two small holes cut into the brim to allow his horns passage. His jet black hair was tied into a ponytail with a purple ribbon, and his ears were pointed, almost elfen in appearance. One side of his face was covered by a perfectly polished porcelain mask, which was fastened - like his hair - with a purple ribbon. Behind the mask, all you could see was one of his eyes: each eye a toxic shade of green, with slit pupils, and irises that seemed to glow in the dark. The other half of his face was sculpted like marble, almost as pale as the stark white mask, with a softness and silkiness one could sense even without touching the skin. As he smiled, the points of long, sharp teeth could be seen. He was here. The Phantom of the Opera. But you knew him by another name now. “Good evening, Malleus,” you greeted him politely. “Good evening, Daughter of Man,” Malleus Draconia - the elusive Opera Ghost - responded, and bowed in a courtly fashion. “Your performance tonight nearly took my breath away. I am exceptionally proud of you.” “Thank you,” you said, feeling rather humbled by his praise…but your humility soon faded as you smirked. “Have you been watching me change this whole time?” Malleus seemed to bristle like an irritated cat at the suggestion. “You wound me, my Angel of Music,” he sniffed, snootily, and stood ramrod straight, swirling his dark violet cloak behind him. “I should hope you know I have better manners than that.” “I do, I just couldn’t help but tease,” you giggled, then cocked your head to the left. “Did you mean what you said?” Malleus cocked his head in the opposite direction, inquisitively. “About swallowing them whole. Ace and Deuce.” Malleus narrowed his eyes. “I know you consider them your friends,” he said to you. “You’ve told me of your correspondences with the Viscount, but I sense he comes to the opera for the wrong reasons.” “What do you mean?” “He values the beauty of faces, and of mechanical flim-flammery,” scoffed Malleus. “Not so much the beauty of music.” “Uh-huh,” you replied, not sure you really had grounds to disagree, and also not wanting to start an argument. “And what about Ace?” “Oh, Trappola is simply obnoxious at times.”

You snickered. Malleus smiled gently. “I like it when you laugh,” he remarked, faintly. “It’s almost as pleasant a sound as your singing.” “Thank you, Maestro,” you said, then held out your hand. “Now…shall we go?” Malleus smiled wider. One of his white gloves - the fingers long and the gloves tapered at the ends (perhaps to conceal claws? You’d never seen him with his gloves off) - stroked against your skin before he grasped your hand in his. Then, with the very gentlest of pulls, he led you into the passage through the mirror. His free hand swept out against the nearby wall. In one fluid motion, he picked up a lantern hanging on a hook there… …And also flipped a hidden switch. The mirror closed behind you. “Come with me, my Angel,” the Phantom intoned, his voice echoing into every corner of your mind, as he guided you down the long, dark, winding stairway that led somewhere deep below the opera house, within the very bowels of the city. “I have waited for this moment longer than you realize…”

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The way to the Phantom’s Lair was like something out of a fantasy. You’d traveled there many times by now, but somehow it never got any less fascinating. At the bottom of the stairs had waited Caesar; a stellar stallion whose reins were being held by one of Malleus’ servants - a young man named Silver, whose hair matched his name…and who you’d found sleeping standing up. Malleus was used to this by now. You rode upon Caesar as Malleus and Silver led him along a winding path, descending even further into the depths of the ground. During this part of the journey, you could hear nothing but your own breathing, and the steps of the horse and its leaders. Finally, you came to a small dock, through which the great river ran under the ground, in caverns and catacombs hidden far below the streets of Sage. Waiting here was a little boat, which Malleus personally piloted like a gondola, using a punting pole. Silver, meanwhile, hopped upon Caesar’s back, and road with him down a side path to some other part of the catacombs. All along the path across the water, to the final stage of your journey, the walls were decorated with candles, which never seemed to go out or even dim no matter the dampness. In between the candles were pieces of art, hung up like a gallery; numerous paintings and charcoal sketches, framed for only the viewing purposes of Malleus and his secret staff that dwelled with him beneath the ground. “Is that one new?” you asked, pointing at one particular painting as the two of you glided past in the boat. “Yes,” Malleus nodded. “Lilia purchased it only yesterday. I hadn’t expected tonight to be the opportunity when I would share it with you.” “You don’t sound like you’re bothered by that,” you smirked over your shoulder. Malleus smiled innocently and chuffed through his nose, then turned his attention forward again. As he continued to push the boat along towards his secret lair, you couldn’t help but watch Malleus…and gaze upon the mask he wore. You often wondered what he was hiding beneath it. You would have expected, with all his other oddities, he wouldn’t feel so self-conscious…and the other half of his face, which was visible, clearly was rather handsome. All this time, however, you’d never dared to really ask about the mask. You’d noticed it, naturally, and he’d noticed you doing so, and once or twice it would be brought up in conversation…but you hadn’t once wanted to ask what was beneath it. Tonight…that curiosity felt more intense than ever. After everything he’d done for you, after all you had accomplished together - his spirit and your voice, combined - didn’t you deserve to know a little more? “Is something the matter, Daughter of Man?” The perplexed question snapped you out of your musings. You shook your head, half to clear it, and half to answer Malleus’ inquiry. He shrugged, and returned his attention to the river. You turned away, and watched the river ahead. You could see a faint glow at the end of the tunnel you both now skimmed through. You were almost to his hidden home. Perhaps tonight, at dinner, you could find the chance to learn the one secret he kept even from you. The boat slunk its way through the underwater passage, and was skillfully harbored at a small, ramshackle sort of pier. The planks led up to a set of stone steps, which led up to a magnificent pipe organ: the half-dragon’s pride and joy. A crooked path led from the pipe organ to two caverns, which you knew housed the rest of the so-called Phantom’s home. One smaller cavern contained Malleus’ private chambers, while another, larger cavern had been separated into a kitchen and a dining room. You did not know where his Servants typically lived, though he had made it clear they did not live with him: they would leave and arrive at appointed hours. They - and yourself - were the only ones who could enter this secret sanctum…and live to tell about it. Not that any of you would. Why bother?

Malleus tied the boat off at the dock. He then snapped his fingers. You weren’t sure if it was real magic or some sort of mechanical trick, but when he did, huge candelabras rose from the water, and flared up on their own accord, providing better illumination to the dimly-lit catacombs. As the candles went alight, Malleus doffed his hat, hanging it upon a rack at the end of the pier, near the steps. He then undid the bit of silk rope that fastened his cape, and swirled it (perhaps more dramatically than he intended to) off of his shoulders. He then strode back along the pier and extended his gloved hands with a gentle, encouraging smile. You accepted both his hands in yours and cautiously stepped off the boat and onto the pier. Once you were side by side, he looped your arm into the crook of one of his own, then led you past the pipe organ - past other odds and ends that littered the main cavern - and towards the tunnel leading into the dining area. “Where are the others?” you asked, a bit surprised when no one else came to greet you. Typically, Lilia was there to say hello, and Sebek was there to kow-tow to his “liege” and say some half-degrading comment about yourself…which typically earned him a swat from Lilia or a stern glower from Malleus. “I gave them all the night off,” Malleus explained. “Silver will be joining them in due course, I suspect. I hope it won’t seem too forward, but…I rather wanted our little victory dinner tonight to be just between us, and there wasn’t much time to prepare.” “As long as Lilia didn’t do the cooking, I’m more than okay with that.” “Oh, please, don’t even jest about such things,” shuddered Malleus, the eye behind the mask showing sickly revulsion. “I would sooner remove this mask that subject you to that unholy torture.” “I doubt whatever’s under your mask can be worse than Lilia’s cooking,” you responded, pointedly. Feeling a bit daring, you reached up a hand to touch the masked cheek…only for Malleus’ own hand to guide yours away with a sort of cheeky smile. “There are only three things worse than Lilia’s cooking,” he replied. “One of them is what’s under this mask.” “Dare I ask what the other two are?” “Bette’s singing, and Bucchi’s breath.” You snorted with laughter and couldn’t help a cheeky smile of your own. “I notice that things like ‘death’ and ‘poison’ aren’t listed.” “You’ve tried Lilia’s cooking. Would you honestly say those are worse?” “I guess not.” The two of you laughed. You couldn’t help but marvel at that simple fact: to the rest of Sage, and especially to those who dwelled and worked in the Corbeau de la Nuit Opera House, the horned gentleman you walked with was a figure of fear and mystery. But here you both were, candidly (and poorly) joking about someone’s bad culinary habits, as if it were the most perfectly ordinary thing in the world. All the same, you couldn’t help a sadness that crept into your smile.

If Malleus genuinely thought that his face was worse than Lilia’s cooking, and death was better…well, that had to say something, simply put. You had little time to feel sorrow, however, as he brought you to the dining room. Two chairs had been set, one on each end of the table. The food was not piping hot, but it was still warm as it sat ready for you all; either he or someone in his little group must have set up shortly before he went to fetch you, or even while the two of you were on your way. There was roast beef, scalloped potatoes covered in some sort of cheese, buttery biscuits, a small basket of fresh fruits for one to choose from, and some spinach dip to accompany a collection of breadsticks. “Help yourself, My Angel,” Malleus intoned, as he gestured to the feast before you, bowing and sweeping out one hand grandly as the other went to his chest. “You have more than earned your fair share of all this tonight.” You blushed and thanked him. You served yourself a small bit of everything, but you knew the majority of all this food would be going to one of two places: either into the larder for storage and future consumption…or into the dragon’s belly. If there was one thing everyone who lived in, around, or (apparently) under the opera house seemed to share, it was a bizarrely voracious appetite. “Where did you get it all?” you thought to ask, as you took your own seat. “Oh, it’s quite simple: I had Silver and Sebek visit the market earlier today,” Malleus answered, as he tucked a white cloth napkin into his collar. “They picked up the meat, the potatoes, and-” “No, no, I mean…if Lilia didn’t cook, who did the cooking?” you elaborated. “Well, that’s rather a different question,” smirked Malleus. “You should say what you mean, Child of Man.” You wanted to protest, but you couldn’t think of what to say. You opened your mouth, and the unmasked eyebrow arched, as if warning you to think a little more about what came out of said mouth next. Finally, you huffed and sat back. Malleus chuckled, a look of playful victory in his eyes as he took up his knife and fork, and prepared to eat from his own plate. You took up your own pieces of cutlery, but paused before you actually began to eat. You watched as Malleus lifted a bite of roast beef to his mouth…watched his fangs part before he popped the morsel of meat into his jaws…then shook your head, face a little flushed, as you tried to focus on your own meal. All the while however, you could hear the half-dragon thrum as he tasted the supper before him, and couldn’t help but quiver. There were some things you loved about him you simply could not explain. Such thoughts soon left your mind, however, when you took your first bite of dinner. A startled sound left you, and your eyes widened. Malleus looked up immediately. “What’s the matter?” he asked. A slight note of anxiety filled his voice as he checked: “You don’t like the roast beef?” “N-No, it’s not that-” “Ah,” he sighed, almost despondently. “I know. It’s the spinach.” “No!” you exclaimed, and smiled. “Nothing is wrong! I…this is REALLY good!”

Malleus’ eyes widened a bit…then a look of great satisfaction painted his face. “Oh. Is that all?” he asked, chuckling, in a sort of tone that indicated he was trying not to show just how delighted he truly was. “Well, I’m…exceptionally glad to hear it.” “Seriously, who made this?” you had to inquire. “Silver?” Malleus didn’t answer, his eyes focused on the knife and fork sawing through his helping of roast beef. “It wasn’t Sebek, surely?” Malleus still didn’t answer…but as he swallowed another piece of meat, you suddenly noticed a how the skin of his one unmasked cheek seemed to darken faintly. It was then the pieces fit together in your head. ��...You. You made this yourself, didn’t you?” Malleus smiled and looked up at you. You weren’t entirely sure, but you swore there was something almost bashful in the inclination of his head and the glimmer in his eyes. “I have talents beyond simply my music, my mortal friend,” he replied. “Not cooking. At least, you’ve never cooked before. You usually have someone bring food down here from the restaurant inside the Corbeau de la Nuit…or, if you’re desperate, you just ask Lilia to make something, and pray you’ll survive.” Normally, such a statement would have made Malleus laugh. It didn’t this time. “Was…was this your first time?” you asked, captivated by the idea. Malleus nodded and put down his cutlery, folding his hands and giving you a sort of hopeful look. “I trust my first attempt is acceptable?” “Very,” you smiled, and your smile grew as the full weight of what had happened, what you were tasting, struck you. “I…I’m flattered, Maestro. It really means a lot that you’d go through so much for me, with-” “For you, it is nothing, Daughter of Man,” Malleus replied, somewhat grandly, lifting a hand to halt your words. “I would wrestle with demons and angels for you. Learning how to properly use an oven and seasoning is the least I could manage.” “How DID you manage it?” “Well, first of all, I used a recipe book, and followed it diligently. Second of all, I asked Lilia for his advice…and proceeded to do the precise opposite of everything he told me.” “Yeah. That would do the trick.” Both of you laughed, and once again returned to your meal. Several times you looked up, watching as Malleus feasted. He ate politely, but he ate large portions; several times you saw him dab at his mouth as he rumbled faintly, cleaning up any juice and crumbs that speckled his lips and chin, marring the perfect skin. At one point, you paused as you noticed something. “Uh…you missed a spot.” Malleus paused and looked up at you. “Pardon?”

“Right here,” you said, and pointed to the side of your face where his mask rested. Draconia frowned and dabbed over his mask…then sighed softly as he saw a spot of liquid from his glass of sparkling grape juice. He’d poured one for each of you, with all the manners of a high-class butler. “Thank you,” he muttered, and lowered his napkin, frowning in a mildly frustrated manner. You paused, then turned your gaze to your food as you continued to eat. “You know,” you said, without looking up. “It might be easier to eat if you didn’t have part of your mouth covered by your mask.” You heard the knife and fork in Malleus Draconia’s hand scrape at the plate. Another sigh, louder than before, came from him. You looked up at last as you heard the unmistakable clatter of the utensils falling to the emptied plate. His look was very serious. “That is the second time, Mademoiselle, you have brought up my mask,” he said, his voice grave. “I’m beginning to think you have something you want to say about it. If so, say it.” You hesitated before nodding and speaking your mind: “I want to know what’s under it. I don’t understand why you keep your face hidden all the time. At first, I thought it was just because you were trying to play up the whole ‘creepy opera ghost’ act, but…by now, we’ve come to know each other so well-” “-And no matter how well someone knows another, there will always be things they keep private,” Malleus reprimanded in interruption. “Believe me, my dear, you do NOT want to see what is beneath this mask.” You bit your lip, then suddenly stood up. “Were you injured?” you blurted out. Malleus blinked. “Come again?” he responded, flatly. “Is that why you keep it covered? Is your face scarred? Or is there a medical reason? Like, is this some kind of way of keeping it from getting infected or something? I just…there has to be a reason you are so sure I don’t want to see! And who else HAS seen? Lilia? Silver? Anybody at all? If they can stand it, then why not-?” Malleus rose very swiftly, and you suddenly felt a jolt of nervousness flow through you. He towered over you as he strolled around the table and peered down at you with burning green eyes. “Darling,” he said, in a voice that was somehow so inviting and yet so thoroughly dangerous, all at once. “Please, do not ask any more questions about my mask. I keep it on for your sake, as much as my own. And I do not appreciate being pestered about it.” You bit your lip…then nodded and bowed your head. “I’m sorry,” you half-whispered, sincerely. “I…just…thought you might…trust me enough.” Malleus softened then. His smile returned and he cupped a hand under your chin, tilting your head up to look him in the eye once more. “It is not my trust of you that is truly in danger,” he replied. “Tell me, my dear: do you trust me?”

He leaned close, whispering into your ear: “Are you afraid of me?” You answered honestly, and without hesitation, despite a certain tremble in your heart. “No. I’m not afraid of you. I don’t think I ever really have been. I never believed you were a ghost, and you’ve never done anything to make me feel like I should be scared. I know you’ve scared plenty of other people, but you’ve never done anybody harm, as far as I know. So…I don’t think I have a reason to be afraid.” “If you peered beneath the mask, that would change,” Malleus said, as firmly and simply as if it were just a fact of life. “That is the last thing I would want. I have…precious few people in my life who DON’T fear me.” He paused, then his voice quieted as he added, “I have precious few people in my life, in general. I…could not bear the thought of frightening you. Of losing you. So, please…never ask me to remove my mask.” You paused, then finally replied: “I won’t ask.” Malleus smiled wider, pleased with that answer, and then backed away from you. He took your hand in his and kissed the back of it, still smiling. “After dinner,” he said, “Would you perhaps accompany me back to the music chamber? I wish to hear you sing.” “You heard me sing earlier,” you couldn’t help but giggle. “In front of a crowd of hundreds.” “That WAS in front of a crowd of hundreds,” Malleus snorted. “I want to hear you sing something for me. Only for me. If that isn’t too much to ask.” “It isn’t,” you said, shaking your head. “I just asked a lot of you, obviously, and…well…I think you’re entitled to having something in return. I couldn’t have made it to tonight if it hadn’t been for you.” Malleus seemed prouder than ever before, as he sat back at the table. He poured himself another glass of sparkling grape, and held it up in toast. “Then let us drink and continue to feast in honor of our friendship,” he proclaimed. You lifted your cup and inclined your head, replying, “Yes. To our friendship.” Then both of you drank. But as you drank, and as Malleus served himself another heaping helping of roast beef, you couldn’t help a dark little desire fluttering in your head. You had told him you wouldn’t ask him to remove the mask…but now, more than ever, you were determined to see what was beneath it. For better or for worse.

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“BUUURRRP! Oof…oh, do pardon me…” You flushed and giggled, as Malleus patted his mouth and then his stomach. “My, my! Who knew the Opera Ghost could be so unmannerly?” you couldn’t help but tease, and nudged him with your elbow as you both walked towards the main sector of the sanctum, and the gilded organ that waited there. Malleus frowned, looking a bit affronted. “How is it unmannerly?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. “I said pardon me. Isn’t that a show of good manners? Or am I expected to say something else?” You just shook your head with a sort of weary amusement. “No, you showed good manners. But most people wouldn’t expect the Phantom to let out a sound that makes the whole cave shake.” Malleus blinked. “What sort of sound WOULD they expect me to make?” “I don’t know. Probably something like rattling chains.” “Why would I rattle chains? That seems both pointless and, for a lesser creature, likely taxing. But I suppose true ghosts DO have time to waste…” You just laughed. The Phantom guided you to his pipe organ. His usual elegance returned as he seated himself at the keys. He removed his gloves; he never liked playing with them on. Beneath the white kid leather, his hands were the same pale skin tone as the visible portion of his face. His nails were black, and came out to points, like claws. Some might have found the sight unsettling, but you were honestly quite taken with his hands: the fingers long and strong, thin but clearly all muscle. “Have you any requests?” he asked. “Your voice is all I need. The song can be left up to you.” “No. I prefer to leave the choice to you, Maestro,” you replied, with a somewhat mocking bow. Malleus rolled his eyes, and then flipped through the ledger of sheet music that was always perched in place at the organ. He selected a song he knew you were both familiar with. After pointing it out to make sure you knew the what he was going to play, and getting your agreement, he took a breath. His fingers plinked a few keys on the keyboard…then, they began to play in earnest, drumming out a few notes beneath their clawed tips, which bellowed from the great organ, carrying the mysterious tune high up through the vents of the opera house, to echo through its solemn halls and out to the empty stage. The place you’d first heard the music of the night. Now, you could hear it in all its splendor. Your heart seemed to beat faster, as you instinctively adopted the posture you’d been trained to use in recitals. Malleus grinned, approving of your poise, the tips of his fangs shining brightly. His voice boomed, echoing off the walls, overpowering even the pipe organ’s magnificent sound.

“Sing, My Angel of Music! Sing for me!” And so you did. “Have you ever yearned to go, past the world you think you know? Been enthralled to the call of the Beauty Underneath? Have you let it draw you in, past the place where dreams begin? Felt the full, breathless pull of the Beauty Underneath?” You closed your eyes, as the music shifted in tone, and seemed to flow through your blood like silk. “Can you taste it? Have you heard its music and embraced it? Do you crave the visions that it shows you?” You looked at Malleus again, as the music went on. “Do you wonder why it chose you? Like it knows you? Knows you have a darkness running through you? If you’re not afraid, I’ll show it to you.” He grinned as he looked up at you, and put in his own lyrics; the song was a duet. “You don’t fear the darkness, do you?” You shivered slightly, and shook your head, as if in answer to the question. He chuckled, and the organ sang its own tune as you prepared for the second verse. The song was one he had taught you a good while back: in the story from whence it came, the lyrics were to be sung between a teacher and a student. Once upon a time, that had been enough to summarize your relationship with the Phantom…but now, you sensed a deeper layer beneath the lyrics as they left your own mouth, as well as his. “Have you found yourself beguiled, by the dangerous and wild?” you sang, your voice carrying out with a mysterioso quality. “And been hooked, as you looked at the Beauty Underneath?” Another shiver went through you, as paper was flipped, and you hugged yourself; you suddenly felt a strange chill. “Have you felt your senses surge, and surrendered to the urge?” your voice shifted into a sort of husky tone, which was meant for more intimate scenes and melodies. “Tell me you know it too; know the Beauty Underneath!” Your eyes once more fell to Malleus, as it was his time to sing the next part. His voice was as rich and decadent as dark chocolate, and filled you with a warm, deep sweetness that few others had ever managed. “If it’s in you - in your skin, and bone, and blood, and sinew - if it doesn’t frighten you and shake you, there are places I can take you…” “I can taste it!” you sang back. “I have heard the music and embraced it! Even in the wonders you have shown me!” “It’s as if you’ve always known me,” Malleus responded, and there was such a depth of meaning in the way he sang it, you suddenly knew he was doing more than playing alongside you. You swallowed thinly as the key changed once again. Your voice shook slightly as you started the next segment, watching every motion Malleus made. You could see the way muscles rippled beneath the skin as his fingers danced along the keyboard, how his shoulders dipped and swung as he swayed like a serpent where he rested, his head oscillating in a reptilian fashion as he poured all his heart into the keys.

“It’s all so beautiful,” you began, and your voice soon strengthened again. “So strange, yet beautiful. Everything just as you said!” “And they’re so beautiful,” Malleus returned, and his eyes drifted from the sheet music and the keys towards your own hands, clasped before you. “Perhaps TOO beautiful. What I suspect cannot be. Still, they seem so much like me…” Your eyes connected - yours gazing into meaning-filled green irises - as you chorused together. “I can’t look away.” For just a moment, the music paused…then, with a sort of nervousness you never saw in the elegant Phantom before, he hammered at the keys again, and returned to the piece. In a flicker of an instant, you looked askance, tucking some hair behind your ear… …And noticed the purple ribbon of his mask. In that moment, you made your mind up to do something terribly drastic. Something part of you screamed was foolish on so many levels, but the rest of you could not ignore. Suddenly, you felt the need to see beneath the mask grow more intense than ever before. You wanted to know the face behind the voice, in every detail. With an impulse you were seemingly unable to control, you began to cautiously reach towards the mask…but then Malleus jerked his head towards you, and you pulled back again. He hadn’t noticed. There was an innocent joy, a delight, almost a childish exuberance in his elegant features, as he simply continued the piece, clearly waiting for you to pick up your cue. You did so quickly, as if you weren’t planning anything. “Are you ready?” “Yes!” “Come closer.” “Yes!” “Have no fear of the Beauty Underneath.” You reached a second time…but once again, his head jerked towards you, as he nodded and chuckled between his parts. He was still oblivious as you hurriedly pulled back your hand, giving an apprehensive sort of look he clearly didn’t catch. Your heart was beating more quickly as you knew what you were going to do. Half of you kept saying this was probably wrong…but another half of you, frankly, did not care. “You can face it.” “Yes!” “You can take it.” “Yes!” “You see through to the Beauty Underneath!” Your hands trembled as the music began to race to a crescendo, and the notes both of you sang became higher and higher. You kept them clasped, holding back the urge till you felt the moment was right.

“To the splendor!” “The splendor!” “And the glory!” “The glory!” “To the truth of the Beauty Underneath!” “Beauty Underneath!” “You’ll accept it?!” “YES!” “You’ll embrace it?!” “YES!” “LET ME SHOW YOU THE BEAUTY UNDER-” “AAAAARRRRRREEEEEIIIIIAAAAARRRRRGH!” Swiftly your fingers tore away the mask. You held the porcelain and ribbon construct in one hand…and in a second, fell back against the nearest wall. If you lived to be a hundred, you felt you should always remember the superhuman cry of grief and rage which the Phantom uttered the moment the costume piece was pulled free. Malleus rose to his full height with a discordant bang upon the organ keys. He leered down at you, looming over you, as he faced you in full. In a second, his whole demeanor had changed. His fangs were bared, gritting against one another, and his hands had curled into claw-like shapes, the taloned tips more prominently displayed than ever before. There was something wild in both of his green eyes which had once smoldered beneath the surface, but never been truly visible. The tone of his voice carried an imperious, thundering quality, stronger and yet more terrible than it had ever seemed before, as it rang through the lair with a power not even the stage could have contained. “FOOL!” he roared. “YOU WANT TO SEE?! WELL, LOOK AT IT! FEAST YOUR EYES, GLUT YOUR SOUL, ON MY CURSED UGLINESS!” You didn’t have much choice. Your eyes were wide and your mouth hung agape as you gazed at the face of the Phantom of the Opera. While one side of Malleus’ face - the side the mask did not hide - was smooth and pale and seemed to be carved by an expert sculptor…the other side was quite a different story. The skin had been replaced by a collection of dark, jagged-edged scales, colored a glossy black hue. The scales caused the edges of his nose and a small portion of his upper lip - the part the mask had covered - to curl slightly, and jabbed into the edges of his hairline. When coupled with the horns and the glowing, reptilian eyes, not to mention the bared fangs…had one looked at Malleus in profile from that side, unmasked, he might have been mistaken for some sort of demon, or beastly monster. He glared down at you, still standing tall and strong, his eyes filled with an acrid look of anger and something approaching pain. It was the pain that caused your lip to start to tremble slightly. He gave you an expression that was not quite a sneer and not quite a smirk - and leaned towards you, narrowing those venomous eyes. His voice was cold and frosty, with the sinister hiss of a serpent tucked into its tones.

“Well? Are you satisfied?” he snarled, a tone of biting sarcasm snapping into his voice. “I’m a very handsome fellow, am I not? You-” He stopped short. All of the wrath, all of the betrayal, all of the sorrow, but NONE of the pain left his face. Those feelings that did leave were replaced with confusion, shock, and amazement…as you reached out and placed your hands upon the scaly, ravaged cheek. Your fingers ran over the scales, feeling their hard, somewhat sharpish edges. The texture was like snakeskin and alligator hide put together, but with a toughness that almost rock-solid, like black gemstones jutting from his flesh. You bit your lip, and uttered a single question. “Does it…does it hurt, Malleus?” Malleus looked gobsmacked. His eyes were as wide as your own. His mouth remained resolutely shut as he swallowed thinly, blinking a few times, as if bewildered by your words, actions, and reactions. “Malleus?” you urged, concern painting every syllable you spoke. “Does it hurt?” “...D-Does…it…?” You had never seen the half-dragon so completely taken aback. So totally speechless and uncertain. He seemed almost shell-shocked. Slowly, he lowered himself c loser to your level. He dropped to one knee, looking into your eyes with a look that was completely different from any before: not the gentle, tender, but somehow supercilious gaze that so often filled his optics, nor the lordly fury that he’d shown only seconds ago. Now, he seemed…vulnerable. An almost childlike wonder, mixed with a tragic puzzlement, flooding his green gaze. He somehow seemed…younger. Smaller. It was a totally unique side to him than any you’d witnessed in the past. “You’re…not…afraid?” he asked, slowly. “Why would I be?” you asked back, very honestly. Malleus didn’t blink. Didn’t move. You almost swore he had stopped breathing for a second. You had to hold back a chuckle. You knew making light of the situation was likely a bad move. You smiled sympathetically and stroked his cheek again as he shifted your posture to sit up more comfortably. “Malleus…I don’t know what made you think I’d be so scared of…this,” you said, giving his cheek a pat, then finally withdrawing your hand. One of his took its place, as if trying to absorb the warmth that lingered from your touch into his own digit-tips. “But I’m not. I’m simply not. It’s really not as bad as you think. Honestly, I think it’s kind of…interesting.” “Interesting?” he repeated, sounding as if he were tasting each syllable and trying to decide how he liked them. You nodded, smiling a bit wider. “I’m guessing this is like the horns and such, right? Sort of…a sign of your dragon side?” you presumed. Malleus nodded. His expression was finally starting to cool, but only slightly. He still looked rather baffled…perhaps even slightly suspicious. “Well, then all I’m wondering is why it’s like that, and - more importantly - if it hurts you. Like…they don’t feel…uncomfortable, or painful?” Malleus paused…then shook his head to show that, no, they did not. You sighed with relief. “Thank goodness,” you said, and then looked up with a bit of sadness in your eyes. “That was the only thing I WAS scared of. Worrying if I’d hurt you physically, or if they did.”

“Nothing else?” “Nothing else,” you promised. Malleus Draconia’s eyes flickered up and down over you…then he turned away, noticeably moving so the scaly side of his face was hidden from immediate view. “Well…you aren’t exactly the first…but you’re certainly among the few,” he murmured, sorrowfully. Your eyes shone with concern. What had he been through that he felt he had to hide his face from others? How had it ended up that way? Had he been cursed? Was it just a defect of his humanoid form? These questions, you suddenly felt, were best left unasked. He was shaking. One had to look close to know it. But you definitely had that close look. Carefully, you held out the mask to him. Malleus looked at it, ears pricking up, then up into your eyes. You smiled kindly, and nodded encouragingly. He bit his lip - an uncharacteristic action from him, up to that point - then plucked the mask from your hand before rising to his feet. Hastily, he fitted it back into place, and tied the purple ribbon to keep it there. When he turned around again, the coolness he usually held had once again covered his features, and the mask hid the scaly hide from sight. “That was…not very thoughtful of you, my dear,” he said, steadily. He didn’t sound angry, nor even disappointed. Perhaps mildly annoyed, but…mostly, he just…seemed to say it. You smiled apologetically and got to your feet before reaching out to take one of his hands in your own. He stiffened slightly, but you pretended not to notice. “I know. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done something like that, and I promise that I won’t do it again. But…for the record…never feel you need to hide your face, or anything else, from me. I promise, I will never judge you or hurt you.” You then paused and smirked. “Besides, you lied to me.” “I…did?” Malleus blinked, questioningly. “Of course! Lilia’s cooking is WAY worse than that!” Malleus stared at you…then, his expression changed to an uncommon smile…and a bark of laughter suddenly left him. You soon found yourself laughing alongside him.

“See?” you teased. “If we can be like this, after that, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“I certainly hope not,” Malleus replied, crisply, his smiled taking on a slightly sad look. “I’m…admittedly still…reeling from what just happened, but…I’m grateful. Truly. Though I can’t guarantee I will ‘treat’ you to the sight of…”

He brushed his fingers against his mask’s edge.

“...This…very often.”

“You don’t have to,” you vowed to him. “You are my teacher, and my friend, ‘Monsieur Fantomas.’ I promise, in the future, I will show more respect to your privacy.”

“And I promise you I will attempt to keep better control of my temper.”

“Then that’s all that really matters right now,” you said, and skipped forward before placing a kiss to his masked cheek, just to show him. For the second time that night, the Phantom of the Opera seemed to blush. An awkward moment passed between you both, in silence. It was broken when a clock somewhere in the lair struck the hour. “It is, ah…getting late,” Malleus said, and went to fetch his cape. “I…shall return you to your-” “Actually…Malleus?” “Yes, Daughter of Man?” You shuffled a bit, before daring to ask: “I know after what’s happened, this may seem a bad time to check, but…could I…spend the night here? With you?” Malleus would have gaped, but he was much too proper for such a reaction. He came pretty close though. “It gets a bit lonely in my quarters at the opera house, and…after all that’s happened, I don’t really feel like taking the boat and finding our way back upstairs and so on. So…could I just…stay here? Till morning?” Malleus gazed at you for a second or two…before a smile that spoke of gratitude beyond ages split his face. “Of course, My Angel,” he said, and bowed in his usual, high-fashion manner. “I have a spare bedroom, in a secret passage adjacent to my own. Sometimes Silver needs a spot to ‘crash,’ as I think they put it.” “That will do well-” “No, no. I’LL sleep there. YOU shall take MY bed.” “B-But-!”

“No buts!” Malleus chirruped, and suddenly was right in front of you, giving your nose a teasing tap. He chuffed with amusement through his nostrils as you covered your snout to prevent further assault. “You gave me the honor of your company, and more importantly, your acceptance. You’ve been a dutiful and wonderful student…and beyond all else, one of the few people I think I can call a friend. Besides, I acted deplorably only a moment ago. So no arguments: you shall sleep in my bed tonight, and I shall take the guest room.” You thought about this for a moment…then gave a sly smile. “Compromise,” you suggested. “We’ll BOTH sleep in your bed. Side by side. Unless you object to it.” You’d half-expected Malleus to be shocked at the notion of a young lady sleeping beside him…but instead, he tilted his head, thought about it…then shrugged. “I concur. That seems a logical halfway point for us to meet at. Provided you are comfortable with it.” “I wouldn’t have suggested it otherwise. And Malleus?” “Yes, Child of Man?” “Thank you. For…so many things. And I’m sorry once more.”

Malleus Draconia smiled and took your hand. He placed a chaste kiss upon it, and then led you with a serene step, conducting your movements as he had long conducted your voice. He guided you towards his bedroom, drawing back the curtain that led within. “You, my Angel of Music, have nothing to apologize for. And I have far more to thank you for than you will ever know.” With those words, the Phantom of the Opera let the curtain fall, hiding you both from view.

This, you were both sure, as you dreamed soon after, would forever be a night to remember.

The End…?

[ouidamforeman]

This may make me look like an idiot bc I can’t articulate myself BUT!!!!!!!! Big Queer Good Omens meta incoming

I want to talk about This Neil Gaiman ask for a minute because I figured out why I really like his blanket response to this “discourse” a lot but still somewhat disagree on the nuance, and why fandom attitudes about this bother me much much more than his open ended response like this one

Under a read more because im going to get Insane

First of all this is going to be riddled with my own viewpoints on queerness as a transmasculine nonbinary person who reads too much theory so if u disagree please be polite lol

So like. To begin with I really don’t think Neil is obligated to understand these nuances or even comment on them, let alone explain them to fans desperate for validation, so the fact that he’s been able to answer so eloquently is pretty impressive considering how vicious fandom is. But I want to specifically talk about what I think he means here and why that seems to bother fandom so much sometimes, and how fan interpretation of these ideas he presents can get Really weird and interesting imo.

In my view, Neil is answering this from a Doylist perspective, as in like. To the real life human audience, angels and demons are inherently queer because they don’t fit into traditional human definitions of genders and sexualities. This especially comes across in his insistence that Aziraphale and Crowley aren’t gay because they aren’t human men, but they ARE queer. This literally just looks to me like him saying “yeah so no angels and demons fit into these categories so they’re definitely queer from our perspective but I understand ‘gay’ as being two men and i don’t think that fits because it’s narrow” and while I disagree on some nuances here for reasons I’ll get into I think this makes total sense as an author describing how, from his perspective, an audience is intended to view these nonhuman characters.

However, I’m much more interested in a more Watsonian explanation of how A&C are queer, one that’s much more relativistic and honestly not something I expect Neil to go over every time he gets another ask about this???? My opinion has always been that A&C choosing human queer masculinity is significant and that it gives evidence to them being nonbinary, transmasc, gay, ace, aro, anything that people headcanon really. Because they are presenting themselves as queer in a HUMAN way in universe imo, which makes them queer not just by the standards of the audience but by the standards of other angels and demons in the story? I think that the fact that they were created as sexless and genderless and then CHOSE human gender presentations, whether nonbinary or not, that reflected themselves, and then them being in love with each other in a human way IS what makes them queer, not Just the idea that an angel without a gender or sexuality/romantic or other relationship orientation is inherently queer from the average human’s perspective. People who just want them to be Human Cis Gay Men are really missing this idea I think.

The thing is though. And I don’t think this is Neil’s problem to solve or whatever, nor does it mean “stop liking that angels and demons are genderless”. The thing that annoys the shit out of me. Is that fandom, even queer fandom, took Neil’s Doylist explanation of celestial beings’ gender status and just didn’t think any further about it. To this day people insist that A&C MUST be nonbinary forever just because they’re an angel and demon and were made that way. Like literally just inventing Fantasy Biological Essentialism again which is annoying as hell to me, another nonbinary person. Again, the fact that they were created without any sense of gender or biological sex and then chose any humanish gender for themselves at all whether nonbinary or not is what makes them queer in universe I feel. I think the “they’re an angel and demon so they’re inherently nonbinary and can’t be anything else” is shit tbh.

To reiterate, I think Neil is responding about this from a Doylist perspective aka “to the real life audience all angels and demons are queer because they don’t fit into human genders and sexualities” but I am focused much more on the Watsonian idea that A&C are queer in universe bc angels and demons can choose their gender presentations like humans can and everyone else hasn’t figured it out bc they haven’t been on earth to figure out what gender even is. I feel fandom gets weird about this because lots of people still see gender as something solely internal and inherent, when I genuinely don’t think that’s all it is. It’s internal feeling, external projection/behavior, and both of those as a reflection of social experience all at once. The feelings and internal sense of Knowing your gender or lack thereof is inherent to your self identity, but your gender is also informed by what you understand genders as, and what presentations you understand and have access to! Aziraphale and Crowley can be Human Genders because, because they’ve been on earth, they 1)know what gender is, 2)can see those feelings reflected in themselves, and 3)through that understanding choose how to present based on their feelings! They don’t just have to be genderless celestial beings in the sense angels are if they don’t feel like it anymore! They can be like “oh actually I’m a queer man” or “oh I’m nonbinary but in the way that I’m among humans and I’m not a man or woman.” I just feel like only considering them queer from a human or angel perspective but not both is sort of undermining the themes in the text against bioessentialism in favor of the instant validation of “oh they’re angels so they must be nonbinary.” Perhaps having any human gender presentation is queer to the average angel. Our internal feelings and sense of self knowledge as queer people is inherent. How we act on those things and assign meaning and labels to them can be anything! A&C can be anything they feel like! They don’t have to be the classic celestial beings above gender! I feel like they would love and have fallen into human gender customs just from so long on earth, and that doesn’t mean they can’t be nonbinary or agender. It means they, as a part of humanity, saw and understood human genders and realized what gender they were in relation, whatever you headcanon that to be. And that’s more queer than “god made them without sex and gender so I guess their species makes them inherently one thing”!!!!!!

[kiwibongos]

warning for ab/se & toxic relationships. and sdr2 spoilers duh

im thinking abt the remnants of despair. cause i hate how it just seemed to be like, "theyre suddenly brainwashed and then they turn evilll and they kill because they dont feel anything" like, i hate that. it feels so underdeveloped. it cant just be despair, it has to be deeper than that, i think it'd take personal angles and link with a lot of their own trauma, leaving them really vulnerable and deranged. so heres my own interpretation and headcanons for some of them

contains mikan, nagito, fuyuhiko, peko, akane, kazuichi, and brief analysis of the rest. keep in mind i havent seen the animes yet lol so this is a basic layer of it, but i just rly wanted to let this out cus i dont see it talked about. storing my brainrot here for later moments.

first of all i feel like the brainwashing would be a very slow process bc junko would definitely just manipulate everyone in her way to get what she wants. and by the time the world was plagued basically, all the remnants clearly had really unhealthy feelings related to junko specifically. they all love her, hate her, or praise her, but its all in very different ways that would be bc of their own personal backstories

we all know how mikan and nagito feel. mikan was constantly hurt by other people before junko herself, itd make sense for her to develop a very unhealthy attachment to her. mikan was extremely vulnerable and controllable, she would do anything for anyone and especially junko, just so no one is mad at her, hence why it got so twisted to the point where she wanted to keep a part of her inside forever. she wanted to be loved so badly, she would take whatever form of it she could. thats why it was so easy for junko to get her under her boot. now nagito has an odd love-hate relationship with junko imo (his mind is so messed up man) even if he praises hope in such a grossly obsessed way, the mf still TOOK her arm. i know he did it because he hated her so much and i guess to take power back, but i feel like because nagito had never really been loved, he wanted to try and feel what it could've been like out of some kind of confused desperation and fondness for her in a way, because his mind has no idea what those feelings truly are or what they mean, as hatred and love often get mixed up in his head and form this horrible amalgamation with whoever he meets, which is clear towards the survivors in the nwp anyway

fuyuhiko put junko's own eye into his own socket, and i feel like his relationship with her while in despair would be familial and extremely unhealthy. he is definitely one of the most fucked up to me. id say by my own headcanons though its heavily implied in his fte dialogues, is his parents are very ab/usive right from the start. fuyuhiko is messed up to all hell, he was constantly struck and under pressure but he had to be strong and perfect because he was the head of his clan, hence like his insane tolerance for pain. he had to make his clan, or more importantly his parents proud, or else he was a failure forever. so he clung onto that and did his best trying to be good enough for basically anyone. and even before despair he was in a really bad stubborn, mean, depressive state, leaving him far more vulnerable and more open to violent, impulsive actions as long as junko was smart enough to get him under her finger. fuyuhiko never knew what true love felt like (platonic or not), and when junko took advantage of all of that and he slowly fell into despair, shit hit the fan. he lost morality and he had come so attached to her to the point where junko was like a mother figure to him. he wanted her to notice him and be proud basically, it was moreso the idea of someone-- anyone-- being proud of him, but junko was his main focus of that by now, given his state. to him she was like the mother he never had, who seemed to be on the same terms with everything he had believed, someone who approved of him, so he wanted to make her proud, even if it was hurting him. fuyuhiko would keep digging himself a hole of desperation and self destruction, seeking more and more pain to test his endurance because it's what she wanted, and that became what he wanted, too, because pain is all he's used to. and because of that, makotos guess was right; he wanted to see her despair. it'd make sense he'd want to take a part of her, to see horrors she had witnessed so he could understand it, so she could be proud of him and part of him forever. he felt like if he did that, he would finally succeed, he'd achieve perfection, and he did. he'd done everything junko wanted him to do, while quenching his own thirst for violence itself, all via his own delusions. that was love to him and it felt real

as for peko she was definitely also treated the same in the kuzuryu family but more dehumanized obviously, so i think she'd feel a similar way; always needing to be good enough, but more specifically protecting the ones she cares about at all costs even if it results in bloodshed. i think she'd be a lot colder, forcing to suppress her feelings since she just has to follow fuyuhiko wherever he goes, and she was pretty much as insane as him as well so anything slid. i know peko doesnt want to be a tool, but she'd definitely succumb to the fact that she has to be one when they're under despair at the same time, and if she was going to be his tool, she has to be like a robot and just do what follows, because she didn't see herself as a person, her chance of being her own human was ripped away

as for akane, she grew up very poor, and didn't live a good life at all either (w/ definitely bad parents) but she always tried her very best taking care of her siblings in the past, despite everything. i think there was a lot of twisted familial love with junko whom she started to see as a sister despite being unrelated, just because of being a caretaker all her life, its just kind of instinct to protect anyone, but that just got mixed up as she fell into despair, and she would only protect junko, while chaotically killing anyone else in her way. she'd fight for her endlessly, she was one of the strongest, at least for a while, im thinkin she found her body and wanted to preserve it as much as possible by the end of everything, she still wanted to take care of her and do everything for her even if she had been too late. and with that, and barely any food in an apocalyptic world, the inevitable happens. akane would fall into a very hurtful spiral of self hate, that her starving was a sacrifice to junko so she could prioritize her first instead of herself, while also it being like a punishment to herself for her own failures and how she was failing to preserve junko

kazuichi always hated himself. he was bullied often, didn’t have a lot of friends going into high school, and he was very desperate for attention, especially from women. he’d be very notably attached to junko which would eventually evolve into romantic feelings, similar to mikan. he craved attention and validation so much, it left him very vulnerable, and kazuichi often grows attached to people who show him a sliver of kindness anyway, so junko would likely personally manipulate him and praise him, and they’d grow close, and he’d develop a very strong attachment towards her that derails into love and lust. and once he was influenced by her under despair, he would do anything for her. so, he’d get his hands on a lot of weapons, and go on mindless killing sprees, causing havoc 24/7 just to please her and keep her memory alive through despair. and deep in his mind, he probably truly thought that junko was his soulmate, that they were destined to be together, and he was fulfilling missions just for her, and in the end, they could be together

extra stuff i guess? as anyone would expect, sonia just became a corrupted leader and took advantage of her power under despair. her kingdom would try to keep her above it, but she’d fall into it somehow anyway, and probably had already been plagued by corrupt/unjust views by junko before, so she’d lead her people to worship junko the same way she does, and anyone who stood against it would be punished severely. mahiru falls into morbid curiosity because of junko and gets worse, given what she does with her camera, also both mikan and gundham would try to stitch junko up a little, and try to keep her from falling apart as long as possible. mikan is more likely to do that for her own twisted romantic purposes, but if gundham gets a hold of her before or after mikan, he would take her blood for himself, and most likely start a cult to worship her, all for like weird satanic purposes involving rituals and stuff. he’d also encourage his members or the other remnants to indulge in certain activities for the sake of praising her. gundham would probably even believe she was some demon from the underworld who granted him powers and chose him to carry on her legacy

also teruteru was just a little hungry. boys gotta eat

[mtkay13]

hi! I have a question, i dont quite understand why zhou zishu is drawn to wen kexing, would you be able to help me? Esp in the earlier chapters, i just get the vibe that he's annoyed with him and doesn't want the guy's company. Do you know when he starts having feelings for wkx or how it progressed? I know zzs is very composed and in pain due to the seven nails so maybe i missed it while being focused on the plot, or maybe the translation is confusing me

Hello there!!! I'm sorry for the time I took to reply, I've been quite busy lately and I am currently taking sort of a break from this fandom (I'm not done or anything haha, just focusing on other things atm.) Anyway! Since you sent two asks, I'm going to quote the other one as well here and reply to both at once! :) Here's your second ask:

i think i answered my own question, i saw the ask where you recommended a certain translation, and the translation is completely different from the one i read. In one, zhou zishu comes off as annoyed w wen kexing and i had a hard time figuring out why tf he was even bothering to meddle. In the other, he comes off as an inquisitive person who suspects more to the situation and to wen kexing, and he's drawn in. Not to sound like an idiot but i understand why there's so many translations of greek classics now. The word choice make the interpretation completely different. I wish i could learn mandarin and learn what the original work says. Random but do you know if it'll ever get an official translation? It has a TV show and all, wouldn't it be marketable to western audiences? Question by the same Anyonymous person

As you put it yourself, yeah, the translation and tone does a lot to indicate what ZZS sees in WKX. I feel like there has been a widely shared sentiment that ZZS is pretty much fed up with him for the better part of the book's first half, and while I think it's a front that he puts up indeed, I feel like the original version and some of the translations do a good job of showing how ZZS finds WKX very intriguing, likely very strong and quite handsome (haha). I like to feel like he started developing a crush quite early on in the book, already seduced by WKX's deep and suave voice in chapter 2. From then on, more and more details about him catch ZZS' interest--WKX's appearance, mystery, his strength and martial arts expertise, and of course the way they seem to profoundly understand each other. It seems to me like there's a big shift during the campfire scene where ZZS recognises WKX's sword technique as being Wen Ruyu, the two of them thus discussing WKX's ancestry and, following that, what it means to be a good or bad person. The connection feels so strong during that conversation that it seems very likely to me that they both started falling in love from then on. Overall, where the translation may play a big role in perceiving ZZS' attraction is how "human and lively" he may seem in some versions. His quirks and "humanness" come out stronger in the ones I have recommended (IMO at least) and thus comes off as much warmer and fun. Through that characterisation, the nuance of him expressing one thing (annoyance) but feeling another (interest) is easier to understand. So yeah, indeed, translation sure is something! Haha, and there are many stories of disagreements and re-interpretations of classics even within professional translators (because for how much I can sometime criticise some versions of TYK, it's important to reiterate that these are all fan translations provided by people kindly dedicating their time and ressources to translate for free--most of the time (cough)--and share for free as well.) Well, I can only wish for you to get to read it in mandarin one day, because it's really, really great (and mandarin is just a fascinating language altogether!!) As for the official translation... I'm not very optimistic. It seems like getting publishing rights is rather complicated to begin with, and on top of that, TYK is currently locked on jjwxc (the website where it was initially published) due to censorship, which I feel makes it even more difficult. Priest has expressed in a rather recent socmed post that she didn't want to edit TYK (whether to censor it or for publication) because it was too old, so it's quite possible that she just isn't interested in putting in the work for TYK to be officially published and translated. That being said, it's just my opinion/analysis of the situation, and I may very well be wrong! Anyway, many thanks for coming to me and trusting my opinion, and I wish you a wonderful day!! 💗💗💗

[girl4music]

Well. This helped a bit. Understanding the motivations of the characters helps me better understand their storylines and endgames in the final Act. But I still think all of that stuff was unnecessary to the main story which was that of the division between the twin cities and how the poverty of the underground plays into it.

Particularly the whole Viktor becoming a God-like figure and then overhauling that to help Ambessa.

You could say the magic was too corruptive for him to remain his human self with his own free will as soon as he connected to the Arcane through the hive mind but that still leaves it pretty empty for why he has to do it.

He was brought back to life by Jayce to commit to a higher calling as some type of divine being and heal the ill. But he was technically still ill himself all the while.

What do we, as the audience, get out of that outcome?

Are we supposed to learn that we shouldn’t touch that level of power because we can’t really comprehend it?

It’s just a messy arc because there wasn’t enough time to flesh it out and give those sort of lessons properly and explain why they were necessary to the main story.

Mel’s arc is pretty much the same although I do get why discovering her true nature helped her defeat Ambessa.

Jayce’s arc for the most part made sense but the parallel universe stuff completely confused me. It took me out of the theme that he was tied to: Ambition. And it brought like an odd Christmas Carol similarity to it with him only realizing the error of his ways by being shown his future. But like what was the purpose of that? How did that connect with what happened previously?

But the cast did help to answer some of my questions. I’m glad they knew what the hell was going on at least.

But it really could have done with one more episode to explain all of this new lore that came into it last minute and gel it all with the main story of Piltover and Zaun.

I just didn’t understand how any of that helped or even concluded the main story aside from certain characters from both cities suddenly joining up to fight together.

But the question is why? And how does that inform them going forward or how is it a conclusion for them?

Caitlyn asks Vi whether she is still in the fight and Vi basically replies with that she’ll always be in it because that’s who she is and you can’t get rid of her that easily. But that’s fine because her characterization never changed as far as what her motivations were. She was always a willing protector and defender for her loved ones if not the innocent. She was always the heroine. All of that made sense with her because that didn’t change but the other characters were wavy as far as that went and it was hard to understand why they were doing it and how it concluded their arc or builds on it more so that they can come back and be main characters again.

Jinx for example. If she’s not really dead then what was her sacrifice all about? Why does it matter to her story?

I don’t know. There’s just a lot there that I didn’t understand. I’m usually fine with TV art/entertainment being left open to interpretation and given ambiguity but if I don’t understand the characters motivations and the changes that happen within them and why…

That’s about as useful to me as a blank piece of paper and no instrument with which to put something on it.

Fans can do the heavy lifting but they need the tools to.

[tadpoleponders]

AFTG Annotated Playlist: Song #1

Song: Head in the Wall by Ethel Cain

Author's Notes: I picture this song being Andrew at his lowest points, and this song in general is a really intense one so reader discretion advised!

TW for SH, gun violence, drug usage, SA

THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING I WANNA HEAR YOUR (polite!!!) THOUGHTS!! Please keep in mind this is just my interpretation of Andrew and this song, not everyone's or even the artist's at all. This is gonna be a series, and I promise the rest aren't going to be such a sucker punch in the heart!

Lyric analysis under the cut. Any lines not applicable to the scenario/character are strikethrough.

"Sometimes you make me wanna put my fucking head through the wall Sometimes I wonder if I even know you at all Fall asleep to the sound of your old rotating fan I cut the fuck out of myself and soaked the bed sheets with blood again"

A lot of this song I think is Andrew either talking to either Drake or Cass herself. We know Andrew used to sh as a way to cope with Drake's abuse, hence the last line. I think he also wondered if Cass really loved him if she didn't notice he was being abused, hence the second line. Obviously, he didn't know what normal family dynamics are supposed to be like as we know he was seven when something bad happened for the first time, but he was so desperate to be loved even just a normal amount from a parental figure that he was willing to put up with VIOLENT assault to just have a shred of safety under Cass's wing.

[Verse 2] I hold my head underwater just to drown out the noise It's always my fault, girls will be bitches and boys will be boys I know I don’t need you, but I'm terrified of letting you go Even after all the times you fucked the shit out of me while I was crying, "No"

Line one I think can be metaphorical in that Andrew tried to cope with things like alcohol, sh and nicotine that aren't beneficially in the end, hence holding ones head underwater, something that can very quickly kill you. The second line doesn't quite apply as the singer is a woman so she says girls will be bitches, but the boys will be boys thing echoes to what Luther probably said to him when Andrew tried to tell him about his abuse. Line three is in reference to Cass, Andrew thinking he doesn't really need her and knowing that it's probably safest to be entirely alone, but still inside being that scared child who just needs his mom. Line four is pretty explanatory again, talking to Drake, saying how he would put up with it if it mean he could stay with Cass.

[Verse 3] And how am I supposed to feel good about myself when everything I do is wrong? When I'm just an ugly bitch, a fucking freak, and I don't wanna go on? And I don't wanna leave my house, 'cause I know everybody’s staring at me now "Why the hell am I alive?" is what they think, they wanna take me down

Line one and two can be read as things Andrew feels because of the abuse in all of the houses he's been in. He's the only common denominator, so there must be something wrong with him, not the families. Obviously, it took enough of a toll on him he needed substances and sh to cope especially after Drake. The last two lines are in reference to the paranoia that comes with being abused, especially with mental illness thrown in. Whether Andrew was given his medicine for psychosis or if that was just the plea deal doesn't matter, being that abused for so incredibly long makes you so much more likely to develop mental illness and he def has something going on outside of PTSD. Either way, him believing others are out to get him in his roughest moments is why he's so vigilant anyway even if it is warranted sometimes.

[Chorus] And I can't get out, can’t run away, there's no escaping you now (There's no escaping you now) I'm gonna die all alone next to you in this piece of shit town And we've been cursed since the start, Jesus didn’t want us, no And you take all of your sins out on my body like everyone else does Shooting up our old school when we get bored of shooting up And fuck the cops, and fuck God, and fuck this town for ruining us And they'll put holes in all we own and in our heads, pumped full of lead You always told me I could only leave you once we're both dead

There's a lot to unpack here. One, no matter how far away he gets from any of his abusers, he can't escape what happened and the memories of it. Second line, I think at some point in the abuse Andrew must've thought Drake was going to kill him, and that night in Columbia he probably thought it was the end. And in a way, a really fucked up one, he did die right next to Drake, the last of his soul shattering into pieces like Drake's skull, in the piece of shit town of Columbia, in the place he wasn't ever believed.

The next lines I think are towards Renee, whose faith got her through rough times but that Andrew never benefitted from. You could also argue that even though it seems like Andrew initiated their sparring sessions and that it's consensual, I wonder if Andrew ever found the irony of her hurting him (and to be fair him her) as a way to cope, hence taking out ones sins on anothers' body.

I'd argue that the fuck this town part of the next line can be changed to fuck the system for ruining us, in reference to Renee and Andrew again.

The last line is Andrew's reflection on something Drake would've said to him (conjecture, but like it seems like something an abusive piece of shit would say) in a fucked up echo to maybe Cass saying the same thing when Andrew asked about the adoption potentially being permanent and him not having to leave, and she replies "You only have leave us when you die."

[Outro]

Sometimes you make me wanna put my fucking head through the wall Sometimes I wonder if I even knew you at all

*cries* okay thanks guys that's my cue to go sob until I'm a snotty mess about these characters I love Andrew and Renee so much they're so special to me.

[narrativelysignificantturtleduck]

okay so i just stumbled upon your blog and the first thing i saw was the pianjeong tag.

i have to ask.

do you ship piandao and jeong jeong??? do other people ship piandao and jeong jeong ???? is pianjeong a thing, and if so, WHY ?????

i'm truly baffled but i want to be enlightened

(i know you sent this a while ago sorry, took me some time to figure out how to respond and gather all the links to fic)

yes, yes, and yes, though of course it's a pretty niche thing since it's about minor characters.

as to why - imo it stems from the fact that if you want to ship either of them with someone, the other is the most obvious choice. around the same age, fellow white lotus member, fellow ex-fire nation military, easy to interpret as gay. like no, they don't have any canon interaction, but it's easy to imagine that they've interacted offscreen.

for my part, i got into it in 2020 when my friend abby @rarepairnation came up with it while writing earth system history, a zukka fic with piandao as zuko's gay professor. when trying to find a character to be his husband, she landed on jeong jeong, and then decided to go explore that dynamic with spark from a flame and we said forever (but forever wouldn't wait for us). i'd always liked both characters - i'm a sokka fan so of COURSE i like piandao, and i thought jeong jeong was fascinatingly tormented - so i was drawn in.

i think i'm still into it so many years later bc the storyline and characterizations established back then are legitimately really good. there's kind of a pianjeong "canon" to me:

they meet as young men in the fire nation military. young piandao is desperate to prove himself worthy (backstory from an old nickelodeon lore site says his parents abandoned him as a kid for being a nonbender) meanwhile young jeong jeong is a firebending prodigy (from that same lore site) vaguely uncomfortable with the status & privilege that grants him. they both crave what the other has

piandao brings a sword to a fire fight and wins. they both find the experience exhilarating - piandao is thrilled to be defeating a powerful firebender, and jeong jeong is thrilled to have someone stand up to him (spark from a flame, an old phenomenon)

they start a relationship of sorts, kept secret bc of the homophobia in the military (army dreamers)

jeong jeong deserts, leaving piandao behind (we said forever)

piandao eventually leaves the military too, traveling the world and learning the truth of the war (beyond your darkness)

they both independently end up in the white lotus

piandao offers jeong jeong a place to stay at his mansion after the war and they reconnect. it's been so long and so much has changed and jeong jeong definitely isn't in the right mental place to be in a relationship but slowly, he gets better and they get close again (i'm your light, ghosts, diary of the deserter)

like, is this kinda just two OCs in atlaverse? probably. but i think another reason i've been into it so long is that it allows me to engage with atla without always having to deal with the broader fandom discourses that frustrate me. i think atla is a pretty good show so the way fandom tends to want to change or ignore canon doesn't really appeal to me. i'd rather just play around in the universe! also i started writing a lot of pianjeong fic in 2020-2021 and tend to be a slow writer so i'm still working on it, and that keeps my interest alive.

so yeah. feel free to join us in old man yaoi if you like :)

[hadesdancehall]

I also made this post on the BRC subreddit but unsure if it'll stay up there so I figured I'd also share here on the off chance it gets taken. Just had thoughts about the visual symbolism with Faux and Felix that I needed to get out of my system.

Spoilers ahead for Chapter 5 and BRC endgame!

When I was going into the final boss fight, my best friend had wanted to be on voice call because there was a particular shot after the fight that she really wanted me to see: the one where Solace became Felix's "one wing".

Considering Felix going solo catalyzed the contention between him and Faux, the way Felix's "I only need one wing" mentality evolved between his first All City to the end of BRC's narrative is one of the things that really struck me with this shot. Felix's one wing was initially something borne from his decision to break away from the Big 3 in order to go solo — relying on his own merits in order to reach the pinnacle of the streets. It's never explicitly said if he really thought of Faux as a burden ("Felix... you never wanted us to be a crew and why would you? You gained so much from dropping me.") but from Felix's perspective, there were "no hard feelings" which implies that there was no actual resentment on his side. DJ also certainly didn't seem to really care either way. But ultimately the choice to be on his own with his one wing is the thing that led to his death, since Faux took it hard enough that he... y'know...

But with this?

[ID: Felix with one of Solace's wings showing up behind him]

Sure, it's just Solace. But Solace represents more than just himself — Solace represents BRC, all of them. The entire narrative follows Felix as Red, back at the bottom of the rung with Tryce and Bel, as the three of them work to the top. As Red, he still had inclinations towards handling his whole "retrieving his head and finding out his roots" situation on his own. But it was through Tryce and Bel's insistence that they stick together and their constant support and care that overcomes those inclinations. As Red, he intentionally chose and was able to reach the pinnacle with other people, with a crew — something that old Felix thought wasn't possible even when Faux, one of the best of his contemporaries, had offered it.

I think about this shot a lot ever since I saw it in-game. But then I came across another one as I was watching another person's playthrough with the same friend:

[ID: Faux's introduction in Chapter 1 at the New Amsterdam Police Bureau, with the outer ring of the Police Bureau's logo prominent behind his head]

The above shot caught me so off guard because it truly is a "blink and you miss it" kind of moment since Faux zooms in from this particular shot pretty quickly. But the New Amsterdam Police Bureau logo makes a flipping halo behind him. Along with the alias, this could potentially be its own foreshadowing to Faux's real nature: that he's not who he seems to be, that he's your foe, but that he's also deified himself in his own head and eventually deified through Project Algo where he assumes control of the police force.

(And since Solace is sometimes called by other characters as an "angel boy" or Felix's "angel fan", you can potentially get some lovely interpretations stemming from religious iconography, but that's something for another day if not coming from another person entirely.)

Am I reading too much into this? Most definitely. But while the actual plot of BRC isn't revolutionary, a lot of the things that make it enjoyable for me is filling it in with things like this in order to enrich the world and the story more. So I figured I'd also share the joy that came with these random thoughts with others — and if you've made it to the end, thanks for reading!

[codename-adler]

I LOVE BABY GIRL, GOOD LUCK. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO WRITE IT SOON. WE'RE IN RENISON DROUGHT!!

but per your Kevin suggestions..... u choose! both Start of Time and The Language of Boys sound awesome!

so sorries for the late late response! as an apology, why don't i answer both? (who am i kidding, this is totally a treat for me. i need to yappa yappa yap away to procrastinate finishing my fic for daylight savings...)

Adler's WiPs ~ Project: Start of Time

Literally: Andrew bathing Kevin. a bath AU. that's all.

this was supposed to be my 2nd fic for the Daylight Savings Fic Fest, a self-prompt, but alas my claimed prompt took way more time and brain juices than anticipated, so i had to cancel it for the time being. the idea is very much still alive tho!

i went through frankly impressive mental gymnastics to figure out a credible (to me) way to put these bad boys in that specific situation.

the summary i gave @dayurno (and subsequently forgot):

Andrew gives Kevin a bath. It's like the reverse put-it-in-rice-if-it's-broken. Andrew says 'dunk it in water to make it better' and you know what? it works. All kidding aside, something traumatic happens to Kevin that makes him dissociate, and Andrew takes it upon himself to take care of him while he makes his way back to reality. might turn NSFW, we'll see.

the vibe it brings to the function:

non-sexual intimacy, body worship, non-sexual aftercare

angst, hurt/comfort, PTSD

getting together / non-established relationship (Kandrew)

baptism imagery? rebirth imagery?

a very Carrie moment

a very Vesper Lynd/James Bond in Casino Royale moment

touch-starved Kevin Day

vulnerable Kevin Day

soft Andrew Minyard

soft Kandrew

Andreil/Kandreil left unsaid & up to interpretation; only Kandrew centric

post-canon

Andrew Minyard Saves the Day

starring special guest Jean Moreau

song: Start of Time by Gabrielle Aplin

in more details: because of the way the Championships finale ended, and because Kevin and the Foxes can never get a goddamn break, the victory ceremony is held weeks later, and Riko's funeral is scheduled the day right after. When Kevin and Jean are forced to go, they get attacked by angry Ravens fan after they bury the casket. While Jean manages to get Kevin safely back to the hotel, he cannot get him safely out of his troubled mind. That's Andrew's job. Hopefully some good will come of this.

lord knows how long i've obsessed over the idea of Andrew bathing Kevin. i truly do not know why.

Adler's WiPs ~ Project: The Language of Boys

pairing(s): Kandreil getting together, Kandrew centric, established Andreil

vague summary: While in the Pros, Andrew is injured during a game. Because all three men are on different teams, nobody is there for him when it happens; however, Kevin is closest to where the match is happening, so he is the one designated to keep vigil at Andrew's hospital bedside. Feelings ensue and are revealed, until Neil arrives at last and things are well again, times three.

key scene: Kevin being the one Andrew wakes up to and loving it

featuring: Andrew & Allison 'friendship' - the most important phone calls - body language and the importance of even the smallest gestures - vulnerable Andrew & protective Kevin - lots and lots of staring - there was only one (hospital) bed - worship and reverence

inspo: The Language of Girls by Ramin Djawadi, from the HotD soundtrack

consider these 2 the mirror of each other, i guess! i just really, really need soft and vulnerable Kandrew in my life.

[lesbianatomy]

havent been on tumblr for a while but i have been rewatching yuri on ice recently (yes, its that time of the year) & ive been listening to stammi vicino almost non-stop (thank god spotify wrapped alr came out bcs im inclined to believe it wouldve been my top song for this year otherwise) so needless to say i have heard this exact song looped many times & tell me why i just realized that we hear two different versions of it in the anime !!!!!!

im sure many avid fans of the show have long known this already, which is truly embarrassing for myself, having grown up in a music school, but i digress. the first is the original stammi vicino, used in viktor's fs program (the one that yuri famously copies). the other is the duet version we hear during yuri and viktor's pair skate in the former's exhibition.

there are quite a lot of noticeable differences. firstly, the duet is cut in length; perhaps because they didnt require the full duration of the song for the part that it was included in or other reasons, but i think its notable to acknowledge the lyrics that were excluded:

With a sword I wish I could cut those throats singing about love I wish I could enclose in ice the hands that write those verses of burning passion

This story that has no meaning Will vanish tonight together with the stars If I could see you, eternity will be born from hope

this is taken straight from the yoi wiki page. essentially, in the original this can be interpreted as viktor mourning his loneliness and yearning for a great love. its highly sentimental but also bitter in a way, even. viktor's status as someone of incredible fame and talent has distanced him from life and love, which is ironic given that he is now skating to a love song. the music naturally reflects this: cmiiw but i think the ensemble fits the standard of an orchestra from the romantic period; you can tell from the dramatic use of percussion, wind instruments, and the grandiose crescendos and range of emotion in general. the way i see it, this very much encapsulates what viktor is actually skating about: it displays itself as a very bold declaration of love, in line with viktor's reputation as a legendary, almost mythic figure, but the reality is that no one is there to stay close to him. he is begging for a love that does not exist; an absence of it.

compared to the original, the duet is much more subdued, but no less sentimental. there is a sweeter, more assured quality to it that i feel is missing from the other version, which is clearly yuri's effect on viktor's life. i remember reading a fic recently about how the main instruments used in yuri on ice (the song) aka the piano and the violin actually represent yuri and viktor's respective roles in yuri's journey, though i believe they also took inspiration from someone else's idea. regardless, thank you to whoever it was that initially came up with that analysis!!!!! because of that i understand why the duet begins with piano instead of a wind instrument like in the original; another nod to yuri's presence. there's also a much clearer emphasis on the violin in the duet!

(also, idk about you but when i listen to the duet as it nears the end, even though they never show the full exhibition program, its so easy to imagine how they continue skating the rest of the routine. down to the ending pose & everything. just soooo visceral and excellent)

whew. long-winded rant about stammi vicino over. i love this song & i genuinely think that even if you have no interest in yoi you should still listen to the soundtrack (passacaille in barcelona & kamome are in my top 3). worth ittttt

[astriiformes]

NATE BIRTH!! if you're still doing them: ✒️, 💭 ?

Thank you!!

✒️ - You are hired to write/draw a new BttF comic, and it can be about whatever you want. What in the BttF universe would you want to expand on?

Okay, I alluded to a story idea I've had for a while in the tags of one of my other ask responses, but I think a story about Jennifer and Clara having to rescue their time-traveling idiots would be really excellent. It's got everything -- Doc and Marty in peril, an expanded role for some of the ladies (and especially for Jen), the opportunity to write an extremely convoluted time travel plot... I could do it.

💭- Share a favorite memory related to Back to the Future!

I've definitely talked about this before, but back when I was in high school and first figuring out I was trans, I didn't even have a binder yet and started wearing a lot of puffer vests to combat my dysphoria. Naturally, my speech and debate coach, who was a huge fan of the movies, started making BttF jokes whenever he saw me, and even took to calling me McFly sometimes. I, of course, was all for a teacher calling me something other than my legal name, and embraced it.

Looking back, even though he didn't know he was making a trans kid more comfortable (although he has since learned, after I graduated, and was really kind about that as well, which makes the memory that much fonder), it was still one of those little moments of approval from an adult that high schoolers absolutely latch onto. It was part of why I chose to compete with a BttF-themed speech my senior year, which is its own fond memory.

Needless to say, it's one reason trans Marty is an interpretation of the character near and dear to my heart, and I'm glad 17 year-old me had some pretty neat adults in my life, too.

[romancomicsblog]

Harley Quinn adjusts to the status quo while still maintaining most of its charm - REVIEW Season 4 Ep 1-3

*Spoilers for all of the Harley Quinn show*

Harley Quinn is a show that continues to impress me with its swings and devotion to beloved characters. I would say this is one of if not my favorite DC Universe. You can have fun portrayals of classic characters that feel authentic, and you can have the Joker become the Mayor.

Going into season 4, I was a bit skeptical about the idea of Harley joining the Bat-Family. The concept itself is fun, but the Bat Family, particularly Barbara and Nightwing, have not been my favorite interpretations of the characters.

Don't get me wrong, I love Harvey Guillén, but this Nightwing is too uptight. And Batgirl remains too fangirly for my taste. Nonetheless, having Harley trying to figure out Batting and having a day out with Alfred was probably my favorite episode.

"I wish a bitch would try" from Alfred likely got the biggest laugh from me. It is rather unfortunate to me that Alfred will not be a part of that story any longer, as he get imprisoned at the end of episode 2.

So far the Bat Fam/Harley parts of each episode has been the main draw for me. Harley trying to figure out the superhero game while likely making fun of superheroes has comedic potential.

I really like that the central struggle of the season is Harley & Ivy needing to figure out the new work life balance. I think a lesser show would've had them break up for Harley even considering being a hero, or have both of them become heroes.

Now we have two coinciding stories that will eventually have to come to a head: The Bat Family vs The Legion of Doom.

While many of the Ivy jokes in the workplace were funny, I do think Ivy needed more characters to bounce off of. I think pairing Ivy with Nora Fries is an excellent choice. While it took me a while, I have taken a liking to Nora. The idea of Mr. Freeze's beloved wife being a real asshole and incredibly obnoxious gets funnier and funnier to me by the season.

Bringing in King Shark in IT and doing more with Bane to flesh out her entourage seems like a winning strategy. I'm sure in time the Ivy storyline will draw me in more.

Also introduced in these episodes is Talia Al Ghul, who I assume will be the big bad of the season. I like her having a foot in both Ivy and Harley's world, manipulating both the Bat Family and Ivy for her own ends.

Also just the bit of her not knowing how old her son is or how to raise a child kills me.

While some fan favorites are missed for me, like Batman and Joker, what I really miss is the group dynamic. King Shark is off having kids, Clayface is now working in Vegas, and with Harley and Ivy both working their new jobs, the show feels very split.

I fell in love with the show due to these unlikeable secondary characters becoming a villainous crew. I hope the all join forces once again somehow. But narratively, I understand why there's a split.

Overall, I think this season has a lot of potential and had a solid start. While I wasn't as drawn in as I have been before, I think there's definitely a lot of room for this to wow me. And if there's anything I've learned from three seasons and a Valentine's Day special of Harley Quinn, it's trust the writers, sit back and relax. The show is in good hands.

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[cross-armageddon]

You thought this was dead

it is not

more pjo x prsk

I've been having trouble think of more VBS besides An, that's why the update took so long (also Fontaine)

but I figured out another way

VBS (1/4) MMJ (3/4)

surprise it's the Bellona sisters

WORRY NOT, i have plans as to how I can introduce others (whenever I have the slightest idea what their powers could be, i can ALWAYS stall with Prima)

anyways

I made An and Haruka both rival and complete each other, because that's how they are already in canon - best of friends, but competing in everything like games and stuff, literally amazing.

Their powers are pretty straight forward: An weakens enemies and how she does that is mainly up to interpretation - whether she inflicts some sort of status on them (pure intimidation) or drains stamina for herself - there are a lot of ways to weaken your enemies for your gain. I did mention it's "proportional", although I am not sure what exactly that was supposed to be about. In my original notes I wrote something along the lines of "proportional to how many believe in her", but it feels really broad and somewhat weird. I want it to be proportional to her relationships with people, while also fulfilling her role as a guide.

Haruka has the opposite, as she energizes the crowd that follows her. Kind of tough to explain since this is how my train of thought works:

Basically, her power to "inspire" (aka energize) the crowd comes from her fans and since she's a popular idol - she is VERY powerful as a demi-god.

Speaking of hijacking, buff Haruka hijack

All MMJ (besides Minori) are canonically athletic, so you CANNOT tell me Haruka isn't training some muscles. With buff Honami's case, it wasn't really visible until she actually showed her arms, but with Haruka - her whole posture makes her look really lean.

Remember the Prima post, where Toya dragged Hayato to spar?

That's how it ended up.

They all got in trouble.

Well "got in trouble", not really.

Whenever something like this happens and Haruka and An are responsible, Haruka is usually able to shine a little idol smile and all of a sudden it's not possible for her to have done anything. If that 5% doesn't work, she simply does community work (not a big issue for her tbh). Sometimes she picks sitting at meetings and strategizing with praetors instead of a normal punishment. It helps everyone and doesn't require much for her, since she already has natural talents tacticians need.

For An however, she's in the Disciplinary Committee at Kamikou already, so she does the same in the camp and makes sure everything is in check, that nobody's skipping meetings/sparring, overlooking new members etc. and that works out for her well and she doesn't get any major punishments if she gets a bit too silly with Haruka during practice.

However that time all 4 of them ended up peeling potatoes. Too bad.