#angle o speak

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I hate reheated noodles too omg I thought I was the only one on planet earth.

You are a kindred spirit and I will see you in the kingdom of heaven

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Item: The Bindle Rarity: ⏶ Common

What video game world would be your #1 travel destination?

Feed your dashboard by answering my question, blogger.

Oh hello! Is it bad that the answer is the sixteenth century Bavarian monastery from Pentiment? What about you, mysterious cat?

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Get to Know Your Mutuals

tagged by @charlies-current-obsession (see his response here)!

origins of your blog's name: my sibling-given nickname "Angle" + the "your angel of music" thing from The Phantom of the Opera, a book I have quite a soft spot for despite the Horrors

i'll always order this food: depends on the restaurant but I've got a few regulars around me — chicken and waffles, chicken shawarma pita sandwich, panang curry with tofu, stroganoff burger, burrito with approximately everything...

overused emoji: 😭

current comfort movie: I rewatched The Lunchbox (2013) recently and GOD. God.

current comfort show: my automatic answer is Doctor Who but I guess I haven't touched it in a while...so perhaps my real answer is the objectively terrible anime Pass the Monster Meat, Milady

current comfort book: Les Misérables

song on repeat: uhhhh the Commendatore scene from Don Giovanni

my current hyperfixation: the Vampire: The Masquerade Chronicle that my friend is running lol

oddly specific thing that brings me joy: I'm obsessed with the pigeons in my city especially when they're sleeping in their lofty little nooks at night

smell that makes me happy: vanilla

something I loved as a kid and secretly still do: ridiculously sweet loaded sundaes that I was never allowed to have

phone wallpaper right now: generic iPhone background that changes color at night lol

early bird or night owl: egregious night owl

tagging: @quailfence, @vulpixsinistre, @tookishcombeferre (no pressure!!) or anyone else who wants to

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My household got kittens on Monday! Meet Pablo and Alcibiades :)

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doubt this will be useful to anyone but in case it is: yesterday I got a non-hormonal/copper IUD (paragard) and if anyone is thinking about birth control methods and wants to talk about it or hear what it’s like, hit me up in ask box or DMs

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Don Giovanni fanfiction, anyone?

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Che Imbroglio

A missing scene between "Amico, che ti par?" and "Sola, sola in buio loco," in which Leporello almost gets his wish.

As Leporello feels Donna Elvira’s fingers clutching the fabric of his master’s coat, her lips warming his scruffy cheek, her soft body pressing against his own, he realizes that his situation could be a lot worse. A few hours ago, for instance, he was trembling beneath Don Giovanni’s terrifyingly steady sword on a dusty ballroom floor. A few hours before that — was it really only last night? — he was mumbling a prayer over an old man’s bloodied corpse. And now he is wrapped in a greatcoat that costs more money than he has ever had, wrapped in the arms of a beautiful woman, a lady no less, who still carries the faint spicy, smoky scent of him.

And what is it that she’s saying? It was hard to hear anything over his heartbeat roiling in his ears, but it’s fading now. Yes, she’s calling him treasure, precious, beloved. He tries for an answer just as improbable.

“My Venus.”

“I am all aflame for you!” She gasps the words almost before he finishes. An old thought resurfaces in his mind: she talks like a book. Well, he can read, too.

“I am all ashes.”

But maybe he has gone too far, because she pulls back, her eyes wide and luminous in the dark. “And you won’t deceive me?” 

“Of course not!” By some instinct, he takes her hand in both of his — and then realizes his mistake. Will she notice how much his callused hands differ from his master’s smooth ones? But she just squeezes them tighter.

“Swear to me!” 

“I. I uh. I swear by this hand…” he kisses her knuckles once, twice. “This hand, which I kiss in ecstasy. And by those beautiful eyes.” He doesn’t look into them, though.

Donna Elvira sighs, and Leporello can hear her smile in it. He smiles, too. It’s almost real. He feels rather than sees her face tilting towards his again, and her other hand reaching for his shoulder…

“Hey! Hey! You’re a dead man!” The cry seems to boom out from nowhere, or from everywhere at once. And by the time Leporello recognizes the voice, he and Donna Elvira are already running, cursing in unison, their hands clasped, their ragged panting turning to giggling, until they collapse on a patch of grass in some half-remembered garden. 

He flops onto his back. “That was close.”

“We could get even closer.” Suddenly, Donna Elvira is on top of him, caging him in her arms, pressing her forehead to his. Something flutters in his chest. Probably panic. Yes, any moment she could recognize him. Her eyes are so large, so close. With his springy swiftness that always surprises everyone except his master, Leporello flips Elvira over so that he looks down on her with his legs straddling hers. She grips him tighter. No time to think. He squeezes his eyes shut and jams his mouth against hers.

He’s out of practice, but it doesn’t seem to matter. She half-hums, half-moans as his tongue slides under hers, and even as his arm under her head starts to numb and her fingers tangled in his hair start to hurt him and the lace on her bodice starts to scratch him, it’s nice, God, it’s nice to breathe her in, to lose himself to her warmth, to mold himself to her lips that once molded themselves to Don Giovanni’s…

“I forgive you,” Don Elvira whispers against his skin. And Don Giovanni’s clothes weigh heavy on his servant once more. 

He pulls back and moves to lie beside her. She tries to slide a hand under his shirt, but he catches her wrist lightly. “Wait.”

“What’s wrong?” 

“Just. Um. Just let me look at you a moment.”

“In the dark?” She says it with a laugh, and he realizes that it is the first time he’s heard her laugh since Burgos.

“Truly, your radiant light seems to banish even the blackest night.” 

“And truly, you shine brighter than all the stars of heaven!”

Not this again. He is running out of sweet-talk fast, and he can’t spare enough for both Donna Elvira and his own conscience. Instead, he lays a hand on her cheek and cradles her head against his chest, so that she can look at Don Giovanni’s shirt, not Leporello’s face. “What I mean, dearest, is that when we are…married, we will have the rest of our lives for. Um. This. You know now that I am penitent. Elvira. Can we just talk?”

“You really have changed,” she murmurs.

“You have no idea.”

“Well, what shall we talk about? There’s so much that I should ask you, but right now, I don’t think I can.”

“I’ll ask you, then,” he says. “Have you really been searching for me all this time?”

She lets out a new and terrible kind of laugh. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t think I deserved it.”

“Is that why you love me? Because I deserve it?”

“Yes?”

“Hmm.” Leporello feels Donna Elvira’s head sink heavier against his chest. 

Since he keeps giving the wrong answers, he might as well go all in. “And what would you have done if you hadn’t found me?”

She sits up, a motion so swift and sharp it almost throws him off balance. “Are you mocking me?”

“No! No, why would you say that, sun of my soul?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t know. You always play innocent, and I always—”

“On your life and mine, I don’t.”

“That might actually be worse,” says Donna Elvira. “Did you not think of me at all, these past two months?”

“Often, but always with unbearable shame. And…and envy.”

“Why would you ever envy me?”

“Because I’ve never been more sure of anything than you are of me. I think you’re the only person who can ever make me…good, even though…”

“What?” She takes his face in her hands, and he shakes a lock of hair in front of his eyes as she turns him towards her.

“Never mind. Never mind. It’s still your turn. What is it you wanted me to know? I’m finally asking, aren’t I?”

Thank God she’s still angry. Thank God she expects nothing of Don Giovanni, nothing at all. “If I hadn’t found you, I don’t know what I would have done, or where I would have gone, because I couldn’t — I can’t go home. Do you understand?”

“You mean—”

“What do you think?” She snaps. Leporello half expects her to slap him. He remembers the feel of Don Giovanni’s boots on his shoulders under her window in Burgos and almost wishes she would slap him. But she doesn’t.

“Ah,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“I believe you.”

“And, Elvira, that’s not your home anymore. I am. I’ll be your…I’ll be yours.”

“Stay here with me, then. Stay until morning.” She throws her arms around him, nuzzling into his neck again. Her grip feels too tight, suddenly, her chin too sharp, and yet for an instant, Leporello imagines dawn coming like the end of a fairy tale, transforming him into a handsome lord at last. 

He breaks Donna Elvira’s hold, tugs his master’s coat tighter around him.

“It’s the least you deserve,” says Leporello. It’s true, but the truth is not enough.

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what’s everyone’s favorite Les Miserables digression?

the convent and convents in general

gamins

the sewers

riots and revolutions

slang

the Battle of Waterloo

something else that I’ve forgotten/vanilla extract/results clicky button

Voting ended onFeb 17, 2023

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[ID: A screenshot of a tumblr ad/sponsored post from the mobile app. It has a light grayish teal background and says “star” in green capital letters at the top right and has half a gold, out-of-focus star against the right edge. End ID.]

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