phantom terzo?? yes.

💖

New PotO One-Shot: The Wedding Flight (Christine/The Phantom of the Opera)

Full text is spicy! Rating 18+

Just a few days ago were the events of the Don Juan fiasco, the Phantom’s flight underground, and Christine’s fateful decision to stay with the Phantom to save Raoul’s life. Those moments seem like lifetimes ago now, as her wedded life with her captor has begun.

"Just before crossing the threshold of the church, he stops and scoops her up into his arms, much like how he did on that first fateful night when he had revealed himself to his student and led her back to his lair, before that first spell was broken. She gasps in delight as he wraps his strong arms below the knees and around her back, lifting her easily, and steps out into the moonlight. The blue light of the moon illuminates the pure white glow of his mask. He truly looks like a specter, a supernatural being, floating down the stone steps of the church, which stand bereft of the usual wedding guests that would be cheering and throwing rice and flowers. Christine sighs once more, having accepted that nothing in her life going forward would be conventional."

Full text on AO3 18+

I promise I am in other fandoms, Ghost has just eclipsed everything else for the past year or so. And there's no end in sight with my next ritual coming up in August.

to stay sane I need to live in my own little imaginary world for real

That feeling when you've created such an elaborate headcanon that your new headcanons need to fit in with the old headcanons or they must become alternate-universe headcanons

I feel a little shy about it and I really don't know why, but I think Peter Quill looks soo good in Guardians 3 like,, he's pretty. His hair is so fluffy and curly, and his facial hair looks nice, and I just like him ok he's got massive shoulders and a little waist, and he cares about his friends. Golden retriever man.

these photos are so wholesome af 😭

This man grabbed 3 pieces of black clothing from his closet and left the house for the Grammis. And he looks amazing. And what is that cheeky little smile. He's up to something a mischievous little man

Congrats to Tobbe for winning Best Hardrock/Metal Album award at this year's Grammis! Much deserved ✨

99% of my time is spent thinking about writing and the other 1% is spent actually writing.

That being said, I made a lot of progress today on my 18+ Copia/OC fic "Sensus Fidelium" and I think I might actually be reaching the finishing line soon! When I do I'll update it on AO3 and post a link here. Chapters 1-4 are currently up but it will ultimately be a 10 or 11 chapter fic. It's porny and plotty. It's dark and Gothic. It's the longest thing I've ever attempted to write and it's kicking my ass. Maybe it will kick your ass too (?) i dunno but check it out and stay tuned!

It's an insane need

Quick little Dracopia for the soul

DRACOPIA BRAIN ROTTT

I 🫰 you too dracopia now please, bite my neck and suck my blood

I want to write Dracopia badlyy

*offers you Dracopia and runs away*

THIS IS SO UGLY LMAO SORRY FOR THE GRIDS I WAS NOT PLANNING ON POSTING THEM (they’re wearing normal clothes cause i am very lazy ok)

ANYWAY, let me just throw these bad Ghost doodles out there and go hide because i am in fact a little bit ashamed, hope they’re a little bit funny

„Just call my toll free number.“ … 😬

It’s a ‚Draw your bbg like this‘ because it was SCREAMING Copia’s name hehe

Mini Scene: In the Glasshouse (Copia/Reader)

Rated T for Teen and Up.

Reader works for Copia on an estate in Italy. There is a small, old, rundown, but still operational conservatory, with glass windows. Exotic plants have been left to go wild there. Reader takes it upon herself to clean it up. Copia comes in one day and shows her how to pollinate a vanilla orchid.

“The pollinators can’t get in the glasshouse, so we must do it by hand,” Copia explains, moving the vines of the orchid to reveal the delicate flower. “If you want vanilla pods, of course.” I lean in around his shoulder to examine the bloom.

“Come here, come here,” he says, beckoning me closer. With an apprehensive glance, I step around him and lean my face close to the flower. He holds the bloom between his index and middle fingers, palm facing up. 

“See this?” He points to a small piece in the center of the flower. “There’s the stamen. Behind and underneath it is the pistil, the female part of the flower.”

I nod in understanding, to show him I’m listening, but all my mind wants to concentrate on is how closely we’re standing. I can feel his body heat radiating through his clothes, we’re that close. His chest is nearly touching my back, a few hairs separating us. My heart beats faster. 

“Naturally, the bee would climb into the flower for the pollen and nectar, and its body will pass over the pistil, pollinating it.” He ever so gently lifts the center piece with his other index finger, at the same time spreading the petals apart. I fight to keep my breathing even. His hands are so elegant, his fingers long and graceful, and the way he’s handling the bloom is undeniably sensual. 

My eyes widen when I feel a puff of breath on the back of my neck. My pulse is jumping in my throat; I wonder if he can hear my heart beating. Is he doing this on purpose? How dangerous would it be to assume that he is?

“Here, you do this one,” he mumbles into my ear, and my hairs stand on end. He moves the vines aside to reveal another bloom on the same stem, next to several more buds.

“There’s several ready to open,” I remark, trying to keep my voice steady. “I can check back each morning.”

“If you wish,” he says, moving his hands to place them on top of my wrists. He guides my hands to the bloom, and my smaller fingers replicate the movement he showed me. He holds his hands against mine the whole time, which must be only a few seconds, but it feels like forever. Focusing with all my might, I manage to finish without shaking. I take a deep breath, waiting for him to step away, but he lingers for a moment, standing motionless behind me. My eyes slide to the side, and I turn my head when I realize he’s looking at me. His stare is intense, as if he’s challenging me to say something or step away first. I open my mouth to speak, but hesitate and close it again, losing my nerve. I silently curse myself as he steps back, turning back to the worktable. 

I busy myself by looking through all the tangled vines for more flower buds, and I do find a few. I make a mental note to check back for when they open. A bead of sweat trickles down my brow as the morning sun beams through the ceiling; it’s heating up fast in the glasshouse. I circle the perimeter, propping the windows open with their metal bars, taking satisfaction in the newly cleaned and oiled hinges. The cross breeze helps, and I return inside to help Copia stack pots. I stand beside him at the worktable, stealing glances at his profile whenever I dare, but he remains focused on his work. I resign myself to knowing that the moment has passed, but I remain hopeful that we’ll have another one soon.

Tonight, it’s a Hunter’s Moon