#(not saying christine HAS to be grace)

[weemssapphic]

Hi! I love your stories! Could you write a story about Larissa Weems and a University Student reader? Something 18+. They do the deed in an art museum restroom and the reader gets caught by their classmates because they still have lipstick stains on their neck. Thanks :3

hello! thank you for the compliment! 🥰 so very sorry that this has been rotting in my inbox for an obscenely long amount of time, my brain for some reason really did not want me to get this done 😣 i hope it's at least halfway decent to make up for that!

thank you to @afeatherformills for the beta-read <3

warnings/content: nsfw, age gap (reader is 18+), cunnilingus/fingering (reader receiving), praise kink, marking kink

words: ~3k

Lipstick Stains

next chapter | series page

“I’ll meet you guys back here soon okay?”

“Sure, just text us when you’re done,” Robin replied, threading her fingers through Christin’s and turning to lead her into an exhibit on modern art. Cassandra offered you a smile and trailed behind them, leaving you to your own devices.

You weaved your way through the throngs of tourists crowding at the entrance, all still deciding which way to go. You’d been here often enough to know the floor plan by heart, knowing which exhibits would be the most crowded on Saturdays. You also knew that your favorite exhibit would be deliciously empty, as almost no one wandered that far back into the museum. 

You settled on a bench in front of an ancient Greek sculpture and pulled your sketchbook from your bag, thumbing through it until you found a blank page, and began to sketch, the world around you fading slowly until it was only static in the background.

“Exquisite, isn’t it?” A low voice in your left ear made you jump, your stomach dropping as if you’d just hit the peak of a roller coaster, your heart skipping a beat. In your art-induced daze, you hadn’t even heard anyone else enter the exhibit.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.”

You twisted in your seat to find the source of the interruption: a statuesque blonde towering over your shoulder. A smirk graced her crimson lips as your eyes raked over her shapely form, pausing for a moment on their upward journey at her hips before moving higher and, finally, making eye contact.

“It’s fine,” you murmured, clenching your fingers tightly around your pencil as you worked to get your racing heartbeat under control.

“Larissa,” the woman introduced herself and you noticed that she spoke in a lilting English accent. Her voice had a soothing quality to it, calming you almost instantly.

Larissa. A beautiful name for a beautiful stranger. You smiled at that, heart fluttering at the smile you received in return.

“Y/N.” 

“Would you care for some company, Y/N?” Normally, you would say no to such a request, prioritizing your alone time over small talk with strangers. But something about her had you absolutely mesmerized and before you knew what you were doing, you were nodding and the woman was sitting down next to you. She was so close that you could smell her perfume - notes of jasmine and rose, floral and decidedly feminine.

“Keep working,” she encouraged, seeming to notice your hesitation as you watched her. Sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, you turned reluctantly back to your sketch and traced along the paper. Now it was as if your entire body was prickling with electricity at this mysterious stranger’s presence, your nerves alive and burning.

You stole a glance to your left, marveling at how put-together she looked - silver curls done up in an elaborate updo, drawing attention to her long neck and the smooth planes of her rosy cheekbones, eyes the deepest shade of blue you’d ever seen, framed by mascara-coated lashes that brushed against her cheeks when she blinked, lips a bright shade of red, parted ever so slightly as she as she admired the statue you were sketching.

You wondered briefly if you should flip to a new page and start to sketch her when her eyes shifted over to you, trapping you in her gaze, and the world around you stilled. A heavy blush crept up your cheeks and you couldn’t take it anymore, dropping your gaze back to your sketchbook. 

“I have to admit I was surprised to see someone else back here, it’s my favorite exhibit and it’s not often I run into anyone here.” Larissa crossed her legs as she spoke, long legs that seemed to stretch on for miles, and you had trouble tearing your eyes away from them.

“Then I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner, I come here a lot. I like it back here, it’s quiet.”

“You’re here alone?” There was an edge to the woman’s voice, something darker swimming in her eyes as she leaned towards you.

“Uh, sort of? My friends are off somewhere, I’m not meeting them until later.” You squinted slightly, trying to discern the woman’s intentions, but she leaned back again, a satisfied smile gracing her lips, any edge she’d previously had dissipating in an instant.

Somewhere between outlining the Greek statue and your conversation with Larissa, you realized you’d begun to sketch her instead, the silhouette of her body slowly taking shape under the tip of your pencil.

“What are you working on?” Larissa tilted her head towards yours, her breath warm on your cheek as she peered at your drawing. The sudden invasion of your space made your cheeks heat and your pulse skyrocket. Her perfume was overwhelming now, it filled your nostrils and clouded your senses, making you dizzy.

You hesitated for a moment - after all, this woman was just a stranger, and being caught sketching her could end up very embarrassing for you. Something about her curiosity and openness, and your intoxication by her sudden proximity, won out though, and you pushed your sketchbook over for her to see. “Just an assignment for class. I’m an art major,” you supplied.

Larissa traced a long, manicured finger over the sketch, humming her appreciation, the vibrations clinging to the air between the two of you. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you staring earlier,” Larissa murmured, lips pulling into a smirk as she raised her gaze to meet yours. You were a kid with your hand caught in the cookie jar, until -

A warm hand on your thigh.

A quirk of a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

It was as if your ears were ringing and the air around you was thick and all you could do was wonder if Larissa felt it too.

Larissa’s eyes darkened as she hovered over you, lips parting as she waited for you to close the distance, your faces mere inches apart. You hesitated only for a second before crashing your lips into hers, whining at how Larissa’s tongue swiped almost instantly at your lower lip. Your sketchbook and pencil clattered to the floor as Larissa’s hands came to your waist and pulled you towards her, shifting you onto her lap to straddle her thighs. 

“Is this okay?” She murmured into your mouth between kisses, breath ghosting over your face.

“Yes,” you sighed, not caring that you sounded more than a little needy as you wrapped your arms around her neck, enjoying the feeling of her palms settling on your hips.

The kisses became hotter, more desperate, and you found yourself beginning to search for a bit of friction as you ground your pelvis onto Larissa’s thighs. She moaned into your mouth and dug the pads of her fingers into your hips, pushing you down onto her lap.

You found a steady rhythm, rolling your hips and getting decent friction from the seam of your jeans, but it wasn’t enough, and it soon left you growling in frustration as the coil behind your navel wound tighter and tighter but found no release. 

Larissa let out a breathy chuckle and moved her lips to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe before whispering, “let me take care of that for you.”

She lifted you carefully off her lap and motioned for you to gather your things - of course you did as you were told, you couldn’t possibly refuse this woman - and then led you expertly down several hallways, avoiding crowds converging at different exhibits before stopping at the restrooms.

Larissa pulled you into one of the restrooms, swiftly locking the door behind you before latching her lips onto yours in a heated kiss and pushing you back into the sink. Larissa’s body pressed into yours, your hands pulling at her waist. Her tongue swiped at your lips, begging for entry, and you conceded, allowing her to explore the contours of your mouth. Her hands came up to thread themselves in your hair, tugging lightly as her fingernails scratched at your scalp. 

She pressed a plethora of open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, swirling her tongue along the skin there. As she got to your collarbone, she began to nip and suck at your skin, hard enough to leave a bruise, then soothing her tongue over the little red mark. Her head dipped into your cleavage, nibbling at the soft flesh barely exposed above your shirt, eliciting a low whine from your throat.

Larissa pulled back at the sound, peering up at you. No one had ever looked at you with such unadulterated hunger before, and it unnerved you. Your heart thundered aggressively against your ribcage, so loudly you were sure she could hear it as well. 

A fire had been started behind your navel and was radiating outward, setting your whole body ablaze. 

“Larissa…” A wetness pooled between the apex of your thighs and you clenched them together.

“You look absolutely divine,” Larissa growled before her lips hungrily crashed back into yours. Her hands settled on your waist, tugging you closer, though they didn’t stay there for long before they began to wander. Her left hand came up to cup your breast, giving it a squeeze through the fabric of your shirt as her right hand wandered down to your jeans, her slender fingers tracing the button in question. 

“May I?” She muttered against your lips, voice low and dripping with desire. You nodded into the kiss, your fingers coming to your pants to assist with the process.

With your jeans around your ankles, Larissa’s fingers grazed over your underwear and she let out a sinful moan at the wet patch she found there.

“All this for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet?” She looked at you with humor in her eyes, a smirk passing her lips as she began to kiss down your neck again, moving down your body and pulling your underwear down with her, allowing you to kick them off and to the side.

“Let me get a taste of you, darling, hmm? I bet you taste so good.”

Larissa swiped two fingers lightly through your folds, nearly causing your knees to buckle at the unexpected touch. She brought the digits to her mouth and slowly, obscenely swirled her tongue around them to taste your juices, moaning and gazing up at you through her eyelashes. You gulped audibly, trying to clench your thighs together to keep your arousal from dripping down your legs, but Larissa’s hands came to your knees to force your legs open.

“Ah-ah, let me see that pretty pussy of yours.” You blushed crimson at her words, trying to look away, but a hand on your arm made you look down. Larissa looked at you with such kind sincerity in her eyes. “There’s no need to be embarrassed, darling. You’re beautiful.” The words didn’t help with your blush, but you held her gaze this time and relished in her smile as she turned her attention back to the throbbing ache between your legs.

Heat pooled in your stomach as Larissa dragged her nails down your thighs, placing her tongue at your entrance and trailing it slowly towards your throbbing clit. Her tongue began to circle the sensitive nub and a pitiful whimper clawed its way out of your throat. You were so close already, your excitement beginning to trickle down the inside of your thighs.

Your cunt was aching, wanting - needing - more. You clutched at the sink behind you, white knuckled, pressing your hips forward, anything to get Larissa’s mouth closer, anything to get more.

Larissa hooked your calf over her shoulder to get a better angle, groaning as your pussy opened up for her. She placed her hands on your hips to hold you in place, her nails digging little half-moon crescents into the tender flesh there. Your entire body felt ablaze under her touch, you felt almost feverish as she flattened her tongue against your slit, lapping up the juices that flowed freely.

“Fuck - Larissa,” you groaned as you began to grind your hips into Larissa’s mouth, chest heaving.

One of Larissa’s hands left your hips and you gasped as cool fingers brushed against your center. The action only served to stoke the embers in the pit of your stomach and you moaned as a single digit sank into your hole halfway, pulled back out, then sank in again, further this time, slowly, all whilst her tongue ravished your clit.

A second finger soon followed and you met your hips in time with the thrusts of her fingers, unable to take your eyes off the goddess kneeling before you. A particularly loud moan fell from her lips and vibrated against your center, all but forcing you to slam your thighs shut around her head at the sensation.

“I-I’m s-so close,” you gasped, biting into your bottom lip to keep from crying out as Larissa picked up her pace inside of you, curling her fingers into the spongy spot that had you tensing up and seeing stars behind your eyes. Her tongue latched onto your clit, sucking feverishly as shockwaves began to rack your body.

“That’s it,” Larissa cooed, her lips brushing against the hood of your clit and causing your walls to clench around her fingers. “Be a good girl for me and come,” Larissa’s voice dropped several octaves as she dragged her fingers in and out of your cunt.

Maybe it was the “good girl” that did you in. Or maybe it was just the fact that Larissa was good, really, really good, at what she was doing. But come you did.

Your thrusts became more erratic as you rode Larissa’s face, reaching your high on her tongue as your world exploded around you, vulgar moans dripping from your lips. Larissa carried you through it, lapping up every drop of your essence that poured out of you, tongue flicking languidly at your clit to bring you gently back down to earth.

For a moment everything was still, your leg still hooked over Larissa’s shoulder as she held you in place. She pulled her fingers out of you, slowly and ever so gently, and you mewled at the loss of contact, which earned you a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

Larissa cleaned you up with her tongue, taking her time to explore your inner thighs and your swollen sex. She peppered your mound with kisses, then the tender flesh of your belly, the swell of your breasts, your clavicle, your throat, your jaw - her lips hovered over yours for a moment before finally making contact, though this kiss was nothing like the rest. It was slow and sweet, tender even, and you could taste yourself on her tongue.

“You did so well for me,” she praised against your lips, her hand coming to cup your cheek, thumb gently stroking the flushed skin there.

As you pulled on your now-ruined panties and your jeans, Larissa stood in front of the mirror, washing her hands, redoing her lipstick, and adjusting a few bobby pins that had come loose in her hair. 

“Will I see you again?” you murmured hesitantly, a bit pathetically, half-hoping that maybe she’d spare you the embarrassment of rejection and would pretend she didn’t hear you. 

To your surprise, she grinned and held her palm out to you. At your quizzical gaze, she chuckled and said “your phone.” 

You quickly handed her your phone and she added herself as a contact, before handing you back said phone and moving to the restroom door.

“Now, I really must get back to work, but do call me sometime.”

Larissa paused, eyes raking hungrily over your body. They stopped for a moment at your neck and a dark smirk crossed her face, a low hum of approval leaving her throat. 

You felt utterly exposed under her gaze, short of breath, thighs clenched together tightly with want. Your heart pounded in your chest at the nod Larissa gave you, cool, almost professional, and in an instant she was gone, the door closing behind her. You steadied yourself on the counter, avoiding your own gaze in the mirror as you caught your breath.

Maybe, if you had bothered to look at yourself in the mirror, you’d have seen the many lipstick stains down the column of your neck that had been left during your little rendezvous, no doubt the thing that had left Larissa smirking at you before leaving you high and dry. 

Alright, breathe. You’ll just find your friends, they’ll never realize you were gone. You checked your phone, 5:54pm. Shit, almost time to go. Without sparing yourself another glance (wrong move), you tucked your hair behind your ear, slung your bag over your shoulder and ran out of the restroom and straight into Cassandra. 

“Hey, what gives? We spent half the afternoon looking for you!” Her eyes narrowed accusingly, then traveled down your neck, widening comically as her jaw dropped. 

“Y/N, what were you doing in there?!” She shrieked. 

“W-what do you mean?” You stuttered, your beet-red face giving you away (as if the lipstick stains and blooming hickeys on your chest hadn’t already). 

“You’re covered in lipstick,” Cassandra hissed, not caring that several tourists were looking curiously at the pair of you as they passed.

“I’m… I’m what?” You pulled out your phone, turning on the front camera to examine yourself and groaning when you saw the marks dotting the front of your neck and chest. “Larissa,” you whined.

“Who’s Larissa? She the one who gave you those hickeys?” Robin and Christin chose that moment to sneak up on the two of you, Robin slinging an arm around your shoulder and grinning down at you. Your blush extended to the tips of your ears and you swatted her arm away, huffing in embarrassment.

“So I say we order pizza tonight and Y/N tells us alllll about her afternoon with Larissa,” Christin teased. 

You turned away from your friend’s laughter, looking distractedly across the main hall of the museum as you tried to cool your blush. A group of tourists passed the front desk and you looked past them, your gaze falling to a familiar tall blonde passing through the exit. Larissa looked up at that moment and your eyes locked from across the room. Red lips stretched into a devious smile, and just like that she ducked through the door, vanishing from sight.

#larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems #principal weems #larissa x reader #it's actually embarrassing how long this took me #so so sorry but i hope it's decent #lipstick stains #lipstick stains series

[dross-the-fish]

Phantom Ramble

I think one of the reasons I'm personally so resistant to viewing Erik and Christine's relationship as a romantic one is due to the fact that for most of the book I don't fully trust Erik as a character and I can't imagine Christine does either. Erik has a pattern of creating himself, whether it's the phantom of the opera, the angel of music, or even "Erik" we never really find out who he is. He says he wants to be loved for himself but he never is himself. He keeps himself hidden out of fear of rejection. Not just on a physical level but on an emotional one as well.

The name he gives Christine "Erik" is a name he came upon "By accident" and I've seen some people mention that in earlier versions of the story, like the original newspaper in which it was serialized, Christine stated that Erik picked that name because it's Scandinavian and he was hoping to use it to get closer to her, which is definitely a thing he would do and if not for the fact that the Daroga also knew him as Erik in Persia I would agree that's the most likely explanation.

I've always felt strongly that Erik cannot be taken at his word. He strikes me as the type to say anything he has to say to get what he wants and he has grown so accustomed to wearing masks that he is unable to take them off. Even when he's physically unmasked he still can't bring himself to reveal who he really is. Perhaps because he doesn't really know anymore, he has become his masks. His deformity made it necessary to hide from the world and every angel, phantom, friend, teacher or father figure he became feels like had to be meticulously created so he could slip on the role and play the part convincingly enough to fool those around him. This includes Christine. I think he was hoping that Christine would be the one who could see past the performances and I don't think she's able to for the majority of the book. Even when she's fascinated by him or feels pity she never comes across as someone who really KNOWS him. That's not her fault he has, intentionally and unintentionally, made himself unknowable.

Even the Daroga doesn't really know Erik, he has more insight than most people but Erik is as much a mystery to him as to anyone else.

Erik's world is the theater and he is a perpetual actor in his own narrative. It's instinct for him to simply become whatever he needs to be to frighten people away or draw them closer and I don't think he knows how to stop doing that anymore. He's so distant from himself that views his real self as dead, the real him is nothing but a corpse.

I think that's also what makes the ending, the final unmasking so poignant to me because that's the moment when Erik, the living person, not the character, is seen for the first time. It's the mask coming off for real at last.

"I tore off my mask so as not to lose one of her tears… and she did not run away!…and she did not die!… She remained alive, weeping over me, weeping with me. We cried together! I have tasted all the happiness the world can offer"

What Christine offers him in this moment isn't what I interpret as romantic love it's acceptance, it's compassion, it's seeing him and understanding him. She gives him this when he least deserves it and I feel like this is what makes Erik's redemption meaningful. That his humanity is acknowledge in his darkest moment by the person he's hurt the most. That he is shown that much grace and kindness and that he lets her go without getting the romantic fulfillment he was trying to coerce from her will always be infinitely more touching to me than seeing them in a successful romantic relationship.

I think I also just get tired of seeing romantic love touted as some be-all-end-all redemptive healing force and the thing that could "fix" this character and give him a happy ending.

Again, not saying people can't or shouldn't write their fluffy comfortable or their dark twisted Eristine fics, by all means, have fun and enjoy what you do, but I feel like there's very little appreciation for the redemptive arc in the book that isn't viewed through a romantic lens.

#Phantom of the Opera #poto Erik #Character discussion

[nockergeek]

For the past two years, my partner and I have spent October watching horror movies. Some are films we know, others are new to us. Each year, we try to theme the movies; 2021 had Undead October (all vampires, zombies, and ghosts), and 2022 had Otherworldly October (all threats from space or other planes of reality).

2023’s theme? Kingtober - all movies based on stories by Stephen King.

We try to watch a movie everyday, but sometimes life gets in the way. The last two years, we’ve ended up with around 21 movies watched. We’re just shy of three weeks in, and up to 14 movies.

Our reviews so far:

(Note: these reviews are our opinions. As always, your mileage and tastes may vary.)

Movie 1: Carrie (1976). Stephen King’s first published novel, the first film adaptation of his work, and one of the best. The direction and cinematography is fantastic, and while maybe not scary, it tells a tragic tale of a girl victimized on all sides. Highly recommended. A.

Movie 2: The Shining (1980). I’m a fan of the book, and… I have notes. I’m with King on this one - Kubrick did not make a good adaptation. He has a great sense of framing shots, but no sense of humanity. Jack’s slide into madness feels more like a facade cracking. C at best.

(Yeah, that one’s going to be controversial. I know it’s a very famous film, and Kubrick is a director with vision, but I don’t feel like he gets people well. Also knowing what he did to Shelley Duvall makes it hard to watch her scenes.)

Movie 3: Doctor Sleep (2019). An intriguing sequel to The Shining, and you definitely need to have seen that film to appreciate the visuals in this one. Better characters, but a far more complex plot that doesn’t quite fire on all cylinders. Decent use of Chekov’s boxes, though. A high B-.

Movie 4: Silver Bullet (1985). A passable popcorn werewolf movie. Good story (Cycle of the Werewolf is a good novella) marred by some rough acting, uneven pacing, and some really bad effects. I’m guessing they didn’t have Rick Baker werewolf money. A solid C+, and very watchable.

Movie 5: Cat’s Eye (1985). A perfectly serviceable anthology with two thrillers based on short stories, and one new kid’s fantasy/horror story. Really only marred by horrible synth music. It would get a B, but Drew Barrymore gets flipped off by a troll, so it gets an automatic A+.

Movie 6: The Dead Zone (1983). One of the best King adaptations so far, easily up there with Carrie. David Cronenberg is a fantastic director, and he and Christopher Walken tell Johnny Smith’s tragic story of unwanted psychic visions with craft and grace. This one gets a solid A.

Movie 7: Creepshow (1982). George Romero and Stephen King’s homage to old EC horror comics. It’s intentionally campy and wonderfully stylish, with vivid colors and dark comedy throughout. Good use of animated interludes, which really drives home the comic book feel. A fun B+.

Movie 8: Christine (1983). The tale of a boy and his evil, possessed, regenerating murder car. John Carpenter does a great job adapting the book to film, and has some fantastic shots, the best of which is Christine in flames chasing a bully down like the devil itself. Another solid A.

Movie 9: Children of the Corn (1984). Wow, this movie was bad. Poor pacing, terrible effects, high-school-level acting, multiple characters making dumb decisions, and odd exposition kids ruin what is otherwise a neat concept. Such a letdown after the last two films. D-.

Movie 10: It (2017). This one was solid, a very good adaptation. It did a good job of ratcheting up the terror, making you want to see how It was going to mess with the members of the Losers Club, and had good character arcs too. Let’s hope Part 2 holds up as well. This one gets an A.

Movie 11: It Part 2 (2019). So, yeah, the follow-up was just about as good as the first one. Excellent pacing with moments to breathe and laugh between the horrors, and a surprising amount to say about trauma and healing. Maybe a bit overlong, but still good. B+.

Movie 12: Graveyard Shift (1990). A movie about an old textile mill with one hell of a rat problem. This one is both over- and under-acted at the same time, and the lead has zero presence or charisma. Mildly entertaining, though, in a campy way. Still better than Children of the Corn. C-.

Movie 13: 1408 (2007). One skeptical writer vs. the most evil room ever. Purely psychological/paranormal horror, and excellently written and acted. Lots of fake outs and mean-spirited twists in this smallest of haunted houses. Among the best we’ve watched so far, and an easy A.

#horror movies #stephen king #movie marathon #Kingtober

[phantomtrader19]

A few thoughts about the new 2023/24 London cast:

Delighted I’ll get to see Jon some more although I think it was a given he was staying anyways since he’s been in the role a matter of months, I really thoroughly enjoyed him when I saw him last time!

Gutted to see Holly go as she’s been a part of the show for nearly 4 years now.

I am super excited to see Lily Kerhoas taken on Christine as she can absolutely SING I’ve not heard her full soprano voice yet except snippets here and there, of course she was cosette in the Les Mis concert like 3/4 years ago now so she has undoubtedly improved but very excited to see her!

Joe Griffiths Brown as Raoul absolutely over the moon to see the first PRINCIPAL black Raoul I want to say in any flagship production??? (Please correct me if I am wrong) he’s only 23 too so super young! Looking forward to seeing him!

Paige, Kelly, Adam, Matt & Francesca I’m very happy are staying all very strong leads!

David Kristopher Brown as Piangi is really cool as 15 years ago he covered the role so to see him back is lovely! And a fellow Scottish so extra points!

And our first ever principal asian Meg! - Maiya Hikasa very excited to see a new Meg! And what colour her wigs going to be specifically considering how they done Ellie Young’s natural colour for her Meg wig

The rest of the cast looks amazing ! Melanie Gowie is back in the show so more gorgeous photos incoming! This time she’s back as wardrobe mistress/2nd cover Mme giry so happy for her!

Victoria Ward is back in the show she was in the last original production cast??? as cover Mme Giry which I think she’s back doing again.

Eve Shanu Wilson is now 1st cover Christine which I’m ecstatic about I’m sure I’ll get to see her again cause wow she’s such a good Christine!

Michael Colbourne is 1st cover Raoul and 2nd cover Phantom he was last in Wicked as cover Fiyero!

Connor Ewing is finally joining the cast after emergency covering so much! He’s now getting to cover the phantom too!!

Grace Hume is now 1st cover Meg and Serina Faull is now 2nd cover!

Also Lily De la Haye is now a swing! Very very exciting for her

Overall quite a large cast change this year I am so sad to see lots of the cast from the last 2 years go but super excited to see fresh faces!

#phantomoftheopera #poto #poto london #phantom of the opera #poto west end revival #his majesty’s theatre #poto cast 2023/24 #jon robyns #lily kerhoas #joe Griffiths brown

[ablatheringblatherskite]

hi Aster! =D

love what you said about Christine in the tags of your "what's your opinion on this female character" post!

if you have more opinions or thoughts about her i'd love to hear them! = D

AWWW HII, that's so sweet omg thank you 😭

Yeah I love Christine so much!! I know I don't talk about her as much because I'm more focused on Raoul, but I truly think that Christine is a great example of an incredibly well written female character.

She's imperfect, she's broken, but quietly strong. Both in the book and the musical. But specifically in the musical she kind of plays the damsel in distress, but that doesn't mean that she's weak. There's nothing wrong with being the damsel in distress! In fact, I think the fact that she was the "damsel in distress" is what made her character arc all that more powerful, because when it came down to it, she didn't need to be a badass girlboss like most modern media would say she should—instead she showed love and kindness towards Erik. And despite being the "damsel in distress", she also took it upon herself to burden only herself with what was happening between her and Erik. Even when Raoul was fighting so hard to help her, because she loved him, she refused to make anything easier for herself for a very long time. She could've easily allowed Raoul to help her, but because she loved him and was afraid for him, she protected him. Even if it scared her.

Which all boils down to how incredibly selfless she is—which is one big reason why I ship her and Raoul so much 😭—they're both incredibly selfless to the point they don't care about their own suffering anymore.

I also really appreciate that she is a realistically broken and grieving person. It's not a fault that she easily believed that Erik was sent to her by her father. I mean, the book clearly kept emphasizing how young she and Raoul are! But I just really appreciate the truly nuanced portrayal of someone in grief. Because grief is such an integral part of Christine's character as well as her character arc. She never has to let go of her grief, because let's face it, grief is forever—but she learns how to grow past it, take control of her life on her own terms, and learn to live again. And that's beautiful.

And yeah, that happened with Raoul's help! That's not a bad thing! We're human, are we not? We need other people to help us. It's not a bad thing for a female character to love a man, and it's not a bad thing that Christine needed Raoul to help her (because, yes, he did help her. "I fought so hard to free you," was about that).

But she also, at the same time, helped him. Because no relationship only goes one way. He helped her grow past her grief, and I believe that she helped him grow past his as well. They both helped free each other (literally and figuratively), and helped each other grow, individually, and as a couple, and as friends, and I think that's beautiful. (I know this question wasn't about raoulstine but I had to mention it im sorry)

Anyway yeah, I love Christine. Her quiet courage, resilience, kindness, love and grace, while resolute in her selflessness even when she was afraid, even when she was in danger, is proof to me that she is one of the best examples of what a real "strong female character" is—because she's real.

#phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #poto musical #poto leroux #yeah i have a weird habit of merging the book and the musical even if they're different #i blame the fact that i started reading the book just a few days after i listened to the musical LOL #now both versions are mixed up in my head even if i know they're different #christine daae

[nerdywriter36]

Top 5 Jeremy Stolle performances!!!!

I’m telling you now, these are going to look very similar to @brendadaaedestler’s answers, we watch basically all bootlegs together and have very similar tastes 😂

1. Jeremy Stolle, Julia Udine, Paul A. Schaefer - March 20, 2023 (bootleg is not public, so I can’t provide a link, I’m sorry!) - I was not present at this show, but @brendadaaedestler was, meaning I heard all about it. There were some hiccups in the show (ie. some tech breakdowns in first lair), but Jeremy handled it with such grace, as always, and he made some choices that I love that he hadn’t made in a LONG time. Just a fantastic performance.

2. The Stolleboot, courtesy of @cowardtranslation - this is a beautiful creation with Jeremy Stolle in every role that he has ever played. It’s perfection, he really carried that show, let me tell you.

3. Jeremy Stolle, Emilie Kouatchou, John Riddle - 2021 - top-tier cast. Emilie may not be my favourite of the closing Christine’s (which isn’t saying a ton, I still love her portrayal), but she was just magnificent with Jeremy, who, as always, gave a brilliant performance. Again, not a public bootleg, so I can’t link it.

4. Jeremy Stolle, Emilie Kouatchou, Jordan Danica - 2022 - this bootleg gave birth to bald Jeremy, as seen here. That’s enough for me to love it.

5. I’m using this audio for this, but any recent performance with Jeremy and Elizabeth Welch over the period that they’ve been dating. The chemistry is just out of this world.

there are SO many other great performances from him that I couldn’t possibly name the all, but those are the big 5 for me! thank you for the ask!!

#I can talk about this man for a long time #so thank you for this! #ask em #ask game #poto #poto broadway #jeremy stolle

[ichayalovesyou]

Carefully and Respectfully Attempting to Diffuse Concerns about Spock’s Orientation in SNW

I can’t pretend I haven’t been… heated, about this topic before. Partly because of my own Spock interpretations, partly because elements of this debate touch on sensitive elements of my queer identity. I also can’t pretend it hasn’t come back to bite me in the butt. So this is me trying to genuinely state my argument in a way relatively sympathetic to the opposite opinion. It also might be the last “long post/meta” piece I do on this topic for a little while. Full discussion under the cut.

Concern #1 : The current showrunners are being queerphobic.

My Argument: The current era of showrunners have shown that they don’t hate queer fans. They clearly obviously care about doing queer representation the right way. At the very least, they are not openly, adamantly against queer representation to the point where they let writers introduce many queer characters into the Trek universe.

They’ve Ret-queered two major characters already (7 of 9, Christine Chapel). The Kurtzman era of trek has had queer rep (of varying quality/gracefulness) since season one of Discovery. We’ve got Culber/Stamets, Seven/Raffi, Adira/Gray, Jessica/Beckett, Adira, Zero, and Captain Angel all use they/them pronouns. Gray Tal is a canonically transgender man! Melissa Navia has implied on Twitter that her character Erica Ortegas is some form of queer, at least in her interpretation. Which we might (and kinda have in Elysian Kingdom) end up seeing in canon. Especially since thus far in canon there have been moments that imply she may be attracted to Chapel or Una or both.

No one with a major production role in the new batch of Trek has (to my knowledge) deliberately spat in the face of Spirk or the idea Spock or Jim being queer as an interpretation. Something other Trek creators, like JJ Abrams or William Shatner absolutely have done. There’s no Rick Berman to deliberately wedge apart characters of the same sex that are being shipped. The one time the current showrunners seriously stumbled and everyone thought Discovery was about to do a “bury your gays” trope with Stamets and Culber. They “spoiled” the fact he was very much going to be back in season two to dissuade our fears.

No one has gotten laughed at, if anything every response I’ve seen has been respectful/acknowledging the history of K/S. Even if they don’t pursue directly it in the new batch of canon (which I don’t personally think they absolutely have to do) they’re not degrading the people who interpret Spock and Jim’s relationship as something not quite heterosexual.

Concern #2: Spock has always been gay/ace (any specific subdivision of queer), it’s basically canon! They’re taking that away from us!

My Argument: Spock being queer in any way, no matter what kind, has always been something up for interpretation. Something that the creators of Trek have been more receptive to than many, many other pop culture phenomena. Any interpretation of Spock’s implied orientation requires you to ignore at least some of the established canon.

I personally think a lot of fans (including myself in my own internalized bi/a-phobia and willingness to ignore canon elements) have hand waved certain canon things in TOS that Spock has said and done. Specifically regarding the women he has been interested in.

The real question is does a character “not being in their right mind” change their sexual/romantic orientation? Would Spock have been physically attracted to Leila at all if he was gay, even if the romantic feelings were imposed by the spores in This Side of Paradise? It’s hard to say. Did regressing back into ancient and unrepressed Vulcan emotions make Spock interested in women somehow? Or was his intense attraction to Zarabeth from All Our Yesterdays something else? What about the other times he’s flirted with women? Up to interpretation, all moments frequently ignored or explained away. “Spock’s got serious game with women, he can’t possibly be gay.”

What about the interpretation that he is straight? You would have to ignore a LOT of text to draw that conclusion too. For one, you’d have to ignore Amok Time’s deeper message. And every time Jim and Spock chose each other over whatever love interest of the week they had. Every longing, meaningful glance between those men, or the implications of hand holding in the Vulcan context. Ignore half of the meanings of the word t’hy’la. Or if you wanna drag SNW into it, ignore the way Captain Angel (who is non-binary) played Spock like a fiddle akin to the way Alora manipulated Chris in the previous episode, albeit more subtly. “Spock is in love with James Kirk, he couldn’t possibly be anything other than gay.”

The truth of the matter is Spock being queer-coded was a happy accident. A result of him being an outlet for fans who feel “other”. Reinforced by a queer screenwriter who used that otherness to be allegorical for queer people. Reinforced by Roddenberry and Nimoy being comfortable with the interpretation of the K/S relationship. Reinforced fans writing heaps and heaps of fanfiction, some of which got published as Star Trek novels! All of which embraces and handwaves the actual text of TOS almost in equal measure.

I have to keep asking, is it queerbaiting if it was never deliberate? Is it queerphobic if Spock’s not the type of queer you personally extrapolated from the text that was important to you, as well as the text you ignored/explained away?

Concern #3: They’re shoving female love interests in front of Spock to prevent him being interpreted as queer.

My Argument: SNW, in my opinion, is providing depth to pre-established canon romantic prospects into something that gives both women depth, and could potentially enhance Spock’s queer narrative. Redefining some of their more, questionable, one dimensional actions in TOS. As well as to recontextualize a very sexist/creepy aspect of Vulcan worldbuilding. Something I don’t think was intended as “we need to make Spock straight.” and more “what if these relationships weren’t fundamentally informed by 1960s sexism while also deepening the characterizations of everyone involved?”

What about the interpretation (and possibly the truth we’ve yet to know) is that while Spock obviously cares about Christine and feels compelled to make things work with T’Pring, he’s not in love with either of them?

Wouldn’t Spock coming to that realization lend itself further to the implication of Spock being on the ace spectrum and/or being more interested in men (or rather, one man) romantically? SNW has only had one season, we’ve got the building blocks of two relationships we factually know are going to fall apart in favor of Spock’s relationship with Kirk. If the showrunners have a plan for the set up, surely they have intentions for where the dominos will fall.

By Chapel and Spock having known each other before as friends, a friendship made complicated by one’s (or both’s) romantic feelings. It makes Chapel’s struggle regarding Spock in TOS go from “the kinda creepy advances of a woman he doesn’t really know and isn’t super interested in, but seems to care for despite some boundary issues”. Into an intriguing story about how close friendships can fall apart in unexpected, painful ways beyond our control, especially when romantic interest is involved.

Which can be read as something queer about Spock or read at face value. I also think it’s worth pointing out the two of them aren’t actually romantically involved (and might never be), because Spock is engaged and Chapel is visibly holding back. Still, even if they were it would be a queer relationship because Chapel is canonically bisexual, and no amount of m/f romance is going to magically un-bi her.

In the 60s, the concept of the ‘ownership’ of women and children was a lot more common, Vulcan culture played on that precedent in Amok Time. Yet, thanks to SNW, T’Pring obviously owns herself, she and Spock both do. By making an element of T’Pring and Spock’s relationship something they did as consenting adults, they give more opportunities for conflict and struggle. There’s still more cultural pressure for their marriage than actual emotions, and the bond they made in childhood being of more important still removes part of their agency in the matter. It complicates T’Pring’s role in Spock’s life in a way that doesn’t favor purely vilifying her as a “woman temptress” or victimizing her as somehow Spock or Stonn’s property.

I think we’re getting a lot more insight into Vulcan culture by getting to watch her clash against this betrothal as much as it deepens Spock’s clash with his birth cultures. They’re both trying to be “good Vulcans” both with something to prove. I think it’s really interesting to get to see Vulcans who technically do “fit in”, still struggle in the confines of cultural expectation. The relationship feels forced because it is forced. Nothing about Spock and T’Pring’s visibly failing engagement takes away from the message of Amok Time. That the pain and death and drama would be entirely avoidable if they didn’t feel compelled by their culture to be something they are not. T’Pring is not in love with Spock, she chose Stonn. Spock is not in love with T’Pring, he chooses Kirk.

Concern #4: They’re decanonizing Spirk, they’re taking K/S away from us by making Spock interested in women!

My Argument: Can you decanonize two characters having a relationship that hasn’t even happened yet in canon? If Spock and Jim meet before Kirk becomes Captain of the Enterprise that does it will change what’s currently canon, which I don’t have an issue with. At this point in SNW, 2359/2360, Kirk is serving on the Farragut and depending on the exact timing, might be engaged/married to Carol Marcus. Does James Kirk having been married or expressed interest in many, many women in the past negate his attraction to Spock? Or is Spirk being able to transcend all of both halves past relationships one of the ship’s many charms?

If they meet, chemistry is far from impossible. All the best of Spirk is already canon, we watched it play out on screen in TOS and even more so in its films. I count The Search for Spock as easily one of the most romantic movies I’ve ever seen! I totally get wanting more Kirk & Spock content I want it too! But even if they do choose to fully, officially ret-queer Spock and Jim’s relationship beyond names carved in a bar table. I don’t think Strange New Worlds not directly focusing on it makes that relationship or it’s queer interpretation not matter.

Ultimately there’s very little they could do that would “kill” Spirk. At least that wouldn’t be extremely out of character for either half of the ship or be unnecessarily hostile to the people who ship it. Which I don’t get the impression the current showrunners would do. It would disrupt the well established chemistry Spock & Kirk have in the prime universe if the showrunners went out of their way to put their dynamic into a specific category of relationship, and antithetical to the Gene Roddenberry coined term “t’hy’la”.

I think part of where Spirk thrives is in its ability to be whatever you want it to be, but I understand the need for queer representation, especially from such a historic sci-fi character like Spock. Still, I think things will be fine so long as they don’t make him explicitly straight. There’s plenty of identities within the queer umbrella he could have that are compatible with his m/f canon romance subplots.

TL:DR: I’m not worried, and don’t feel there’s reason to be. I think people need to take the shipping/fanon glasses off if they wanna enjoy the show as it is. If I'm wrong, well, that would suck, lol.

#star trek #Star Trek meta #meta #meta analysis #fandom meta #Spock #snw Spock #James kirk #Jim kirk #Captain Kirk #s’chn t’gai spock #t’pring #nurse chapel #christine chapel #ethan peck #Gia sidhu #Jess bush #star trek strange new worlds #strange new worlds #star trek snw #snw #long post #cw long post #fandom discourse #queer representation #k/s #the premise #spirk #spock/chapel #spock x chapel

[seriouslycromulent]

OK. I'm Officially 4 Episodes In On Night Court ...

I tried to hold off on giving any type of proper review because every new series (or reboot of a series) needs a grace period in order to find its feet, introduce its characters, and establish itself.

Although Night Court didn't have to establish itself the same way the original series did in terms of its premise, it has the bigger hurdle of trying to distinguish itself from its original without tarnishing its legacy or failing to deliver on its promise.

It may be too soon to say whether the new Night Court is a bona fide hit, but I think its just enough time to say that its definitely not tarnishing any legacy of the original.

As much as I loved the 9 seasons of the original formula, I think one of its greatest assets was the cast, which if you recall changed quite a bit in the first 4 seasons of the show. And with each of those 4 seasons, it continued to be as smart as it was hilarious because the characters were unapologetically honest and absurd.

And that's what Melissa Rauch has managed to achieve here with the newest batch of misfits 30 years later. Like its predecessor, each character on this new iteration feels indeed an original. There's no "new Mac" or "new Roz" or "new Bull." Everyone is a completely new character with their own distinct personality with precious little in common with their 1980's counterpart other than their job function.

And that includes ... oddly enough ... Dan Fielding. The one guy who could technically get away with having the same personality. Except ... he can't.

As much as fans of the show loved the lecherous, arrogant reprobate that Dan Fielding perfected, no true fan wants to see him still be that guy 30 years later, not having since married and buried the love of his life, not with a head full of white hair and a beard reminiscent of a kind college professor we once knew. This 2020s-era Dan Fielding is proof that even the most debased humans we know can change for the better. At least in matters of the heart.

Sure. He can still be quick with a smart retort or a gleeful smirk of schadenfreude. He wouldn't be Dan Fielding if he didn't do that from time to time, but he is also a new character in many ways. He's grown in ways that Harry, Mac and Christine never would've believed if they were here to see it. And as a result, he fits in perfectly with this new cast and their new trials (pun intended) & tribulations.

Since this post has already gone on a bit longer than I planned, I'll just say that I don't dislike any of the cast members so far. Everyone seems to be developing at a reasonable pace. The prosecutor got to shine a little bit more in this last episode (which I appreciate because she was veering a little close to the "all work and no play" stereotype we sometimes see assigned to successful women).

I think Lacretta as the bailiff is doing a wonderful job, and I believe they made the right choice for now going with the one bailiff instead of two. I'm enjoying the court clerk's well-earned neuroticism. It feels reasonable given the nature of his job and the stage of his life at this time.

As for Judge Stone? I'm enjoying everything she's doing. No, she's no Harry T. Stone, but I totally buy her as Harry's daughter, even though I think the math is off a little in order for this show to align with the ages of the new Judge and Dan. Oh well. Who cares!

Melissa is doing a fine job as producer and star. And she got me to cough up $5 for yet another streaming service, so I guess she knows a thing or two about these things.

Not going to lie. I'm still largely watching this for John Larroquette, but I'm glad that I decided to check out the show. And I hope others give it a chance and follow suit. It just may surprise you. ☺️

#night court #new night court #fandom #john larroquette #melissa rauch #lacretta #india de beaufort #kapil talwalkar

[streetqueenofmars]

So, I rewatched Joel Schumacher's 'Phantom of the Opera', a movie I was obsessed with as a teenager and new adult.

And I had THOUGHTS.

Being in a committed relationship has given me (someone who doesn't always do much rewatching) the chance to revisit and reappraise art from my childhood and adolescence.

And I'm working on being kind to my younger self.

There was a time when I was obsessed with this movie, if you had asked me as a 15 to 18 years old to name my favorite movies this would have been one of them. Now I'm a few years shy of thirty, I've studied film at the Masters level, I've studied and written on musical theater and opera. Importantly I've seen Phantom live and I've seen the Royal Albert Hall recording. All this to say that I'm very aware of this films shortcomings as an adaptation, as a musical, and even as a film.

But I think it's still a 'good' film.

Because, despite this films shortcomings, understanding why I liked it at a teenager helped me appreciate it.

I don't know if this is a hot take, but in the original show, the Phantom is not only the antagonist but his relationship with Christine is creepy. He is older than her by enough that she at first thinks he is the ghost of her father and his more sexual feelings toward her coincide with the increasing body count and other factors that reveal him as an increasingly malevolent force. It's one of the things that makes the show so good.

The film makes the Phantom's position as antagonist much more complicated by aging him down. Gerard Butler plays the phantom as a young man and the rewrites make his and Christina's ages closer. The idea of him as the spirit of her father is downplayed, and the sexual tension between Christina and Phantom is played up.

It's important to note that while this is an adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical that he is producing made by his production company, Joel Schumacher not only directs the film but is credited as the co-writer.

So I will credit him with the changes between the stage show and the film.

This makes sense when you look at Schumacher's body of work. Sexual tension (be it heterosexual or homosexual), physical beauty, and young people discovering themselves and the world are ideas that appear in his work again and again. Film phantom is a Schumacher protagonist, an alienated young person trying to figure out where he fits in the world. A man who understands love as something good that he wants but is clumsy about how to actual go about pursuing it. A man of restrained passions and feelings he can't express. In the song 'No One Would Listen' (a film original song that didn't make it into the film beyond the credits) the phantom sings about how his love of Christine and his love of music both came about from feeling profoundly lonely following his escape from the carnival and being drawn to something beautiful.

Webber's phantom is a predatory man, Schumacher's phantom is a lonely boy.

And this profoundly changes the work, it's a subtle change that flew over the heads of most critics, both professional or pop culture (looking at the Lindsey Ellis squad) but it's a changes that fundamentally changes the work. It becomes a work of art meant for lonely young men who feel hated by the world for reasons beyond their understanding. And for those men and boys it shows them how destructive their actions have the potentially to really be when they lash out from their loneliness.

"The tears I shed for your sad fate, grow cold and turn to tears of hate."

It's a messy work, but one that has value as a work of transitional adolescent media. Similar to the first Twilight where it gives adolescents a space to feel certain emotions and should be given some grace for that good.

#cinema #art #film #art appreciation #phantom of the opera #adolescence #revisiting #teenagers #musical movies #joel schumacher #gerard butler #emo #2000s emo #emotions #andrew lloyd webber

[dross-the-fish]

They found the elusive Phantom of the Opera curled up on pages of strewn sheet music, weeping with such pitiful heartbreak that none in the party dared to approach. “Je Meurs…” the deformed man sobbed to himself, unaware or uncaring that he had an audience. Dr. Watson shifted uncomfortably, “Either of you lads speak French?” he whispered to Quincy and Lawrence. Both shook their heads in dismay and Watson gave a resigned sigh, “I guess we’ll have to hope he speaks English.”

Before the doctor could approach the crying figure Adam Frankenstein stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I know French. Let me speak to him,” he said in a quiet rumble. Watson wrinkled his mustache. He was fond of The Creature and thought that after several months in his company he’d learned everything he needed to about him. Not the case, it seemed, for it had not even occurred to him that Adam could be a polyglot. Truthfully, Watson barely understood how a creation who had spent so much of his time in isolation knew English, much less French. Holmes would have had him figured out top to bottom by now, he thought to himself with a pang.   “Fine, but please don’t scare him he seems…vulnerable,” he made a resigned gesture. The volume of the sobbing behind him intensified.   “I’ll try but no promises, I daresay I am an even more frightful aberration than he,” the corner of Adam’s mouth quirked upward in a rueful smile, “Perhaps, from one living corpse to another, we may strike a kinship founded on our mutual ugliness” he mused. Watson’s frown deepened but before he could chide Adam he was cut off by a piteous cry: “Christine!” Quincey perked up, “I know that! That’s a girl’s name! You don’t think this is over a girl, do you, Larry?” Lawrence grimaced at him, “God, I hope not. After everything we went through to get down here our sentient zombie better not be dying of a broken heart.” Adam threw them both a look as if to say. Quiet! You’re distracting me. Once everyone had settled, he approached the Phantom and knelt beside him, addressing him in French. “Hello, are you hurt?” The Phantom started, as though he had been shaken from a dream. A bloodshot eye, as yellow as Adam’s own, peeked tearfully through the lattice of bony fingers covering a pallid, badly deformed, face. “What are you?” he asked, pausing his weeping long enough to be cognizant of the monstrous giant kneeling beside him. He turned away and groped behind him for a black mask that had been carelessly discarded on the floor, putting it back on while The Creature waited patiently. Adam did not answer him at first, after a thoughtful pause he offered: “Someone like you.” That seemed to be explanation enough for the wretched man for he resumed his crying “I am dying,” he said between sobs, “I am dying of love.” Adam nodded sympathetically, “Love, and the want of it, are indeed, powerful enough to die from. What happened?” “I kissed her! I kissed her alive! She let me-she let me! I have never…” he trailed off in a fresh wave of tears. Adam patted his back. “Where is she now? Has she forsaken you?” he asked. “Forsaken? No. Never! She would not…she is a good girl…she would have been my bride! My living bride! I could not keep her, not after she allowed me to kiss her. I have freed her!” the Phantom seemed to compose himself a little and he sat up, wiping his eyes on his sleeves. He seemed to notice, for the first time, Watson, Quincey and Lawrence hanging back watching him. “Who are you and why have you come here? I am in no condition to entertain guests. No guests have ever graced my lair save for the Daroga who shall, no doubt, be very cross with poor Erik, and there was Christine who has taken her little chap and fled forever…” The three Englishmen exchanged confused glances and Quincey offered an apologetic shrug. “He wants to know who you are,” Adam clarified, switching to English. Quincey nearly tripped over himself crossing the floor with his hand extended to introduce himself, “Quincey Harker, very nice to meet you! Sorry about your traps, we had to dismantle them to get down here. They were very impressive, by the way! Adam, will you tell him I’m impressed? I’ve never seen such feats of engineering before,” he babbled grasping and pumping Erik’s hand enthusiastically. Erik froze and replied, in slightly accented English, “Thank you…do not touch me,” as his mind finally began to clear he tensed, realization sinking in that there were four men, one of whom was larger than any man he’d ever seen, who had him effectively cornered and at a disadvantage.   Quincey dropped Erik’s hand with a muttered apology and Watson nudged him aside, “I am Dr. John Watson. We’re supernatural investigators. You’ve noticed, surely, that the undead are rising at an alarming rate and we were hoping that, with you being the only other revenant we’ve discovered to be in full possession of his mental faculties,” he gestured at Adam, who grinned in response, “that you might be willing to come with us and lend us some aid. It is my belief that through researching cases like yourself and Mr. Frankenstein here we can derive a cure or at least a way to restore those inflicted to a sustainable quality of life.” The Phantom looked from man, to man, to creature and shook his head, “You are mistaken. Despite the rumors, for which I myself and largely responsible, I am no corpse. Although that shall undoubtedly change very soon. No, I am only Erik.” Adam’s face fell, “Are you saying that you are…alive?” he tried and failed to keep the disappointment from his voice. Erik gave a biting laugh, “I should not be! Nothing that looks like me should have been able to draw breath yet here I am, living as of yet,” he withdrew a little from Adam, who all at once seemed to him, to be much larger and more menacing than before, “Are you not?” he crept back, his long spindly legs bent at the knees in a half crouch as his hand subtly reached inside of his coat, “Are you in fact, one of the undead?” Black lips drew tight and white teeth bared as the creature’s face darkened, “I am! Whatever you’re about to try, don’t. I promise it will not work and the destruction will be your own.” Watson threw out an arm to keep Adam from advancing, “Steady there! No call for that! No one is here to harm or threaten anyone,” he threw Erik a pleading glance, “Please, we’re no danger to you! We’ve no interest in harming you or forcing you to come with us. I see we’ve made a mistake and we’ll leave you in peace. Right, Adam?” Adam looked from Watson to Erik and forced himself to relax, “Right,” he affirmed, though he did not take his eyes off of the thin, crouched man. Like a caged animal The Phantom regarded them before he followed their example and straightened, “I apologize, I am…unaccustomed to civil company, much less when it presents itself with… such a… creature,” he was blatantly staring in a way that made Adam’s hackles raise. “I hardly think that’s fair coming from you. Living or not, you’re not really much different from him, are you?” Lawrence interjected brusquely, “Let’s face facts here, you’re a monster in your own right even if you are only human.” “I suppose there is no denying that,” Erik sighed, “I suppose we should part ways. I cannot linger here and neither should you. No doubt, after they clean up the chandelier, there will be a mob gathering to come and tear this place apart and thanks to you I no longer have the protection of my traps.” “You could come with us,” Quincey offered, “Even if you are alive, we could definitely use someone with your knack for engineering back at our headquarters in London. We have rooms and we’ll give you free food and board.”

“I was going to wait for death to come and take me but perhaps it is not yet time to bring my story to a close,” Erik considered, taping his chin beneath his mask, “Could I bring a friend? If I am to leave Paris I should not like to go without a companion, though he may finally be through with me after how poorly I have treated him.”

“I don’t see why not,” replied Watson, “We have room and we need as much help as we can get.”

“It is agreed then. I know not what awaits me in London but perhaps it will be better than waiting to die here in this tomb. Allow me half an hour to collect my things and I will join you.”

#Phantom of the opera #Frankenstein #Sherlock Holmes #Lawrence Talbot #crossover au #HE'S IN #tbh I don't like the writing but it's as good as it will ever get so meh

[meilas]

All About Franc D’Ambrosio’s Phantom

From a Performance on October 14, 1998

A Review by Socks, esq

for @symphony-in-a​

all gifs made by @glassprism​

I’m here to review Franc so let’s get right to it. The Phantom is not happy about The Boy intruding on his and Christine’s relationship. He’s so upset he doesn’t even greet Christine; instead he introduces himself to the audience by sneering “insolent boy” which sets the tone for the rest of the show: a masterful performance by a man with the ability to portray a complex array of emotions, the most prominent of those being anger, sadness, and horniness.

In every scene he shares with Lisa, she is always his primary focus. He plays off of her so well that the audience can believe that this is actually happening onstage and is not rehearsed at all. Seriously. Count the number of times he stares at her open-mouthed. He is so in awe of this woman.

His hand and arm gestures are always so graceful, which comes from his previous ballet training. He also has an impressive wingspan, which I can personally confirm makes for an excellent hug. He also has one leg placed more forward on the boat in a slightly dominant stance, showing off his impressive thigh muscles and a hint of the tailoring on his pants. More on this later.

The way he gets so close to touching Christine’s face during that first “sing for me” oop you know this woman is a goner. And so are the Francsexual people in the audience.

When he removes his hat and cape, he briefly swipes his hand over his face and moans. It looks like he’s wiping away a dribble of spit, which is very in-character for someone who might have a facial deformity and has the love of his life at his place for the first time ever. He also briefly sweeps one leg over the other which maybe alleviates the symptoms of that case of acute priaprism he might be suffering, but also gives us a good look at what he’s packing. And to appreciate the tailoring of his pants. Seriously. This is the best pair of pants anyone has ever worn in the entire history of this show.

I don’t have much to say about Franc’s MOTN except: hand. Such hand. Much hand. So much hand. And mouth.

But also you can hear the yearning in his voice. He is desperately trying to make Christine understand how he feels about music. On the other hand, the way he grins at her as he extricates himself from the portcullis reveals to the audience exactly how he feels about her. Christine does not see the grin, but she perhaps knows how he feels based on how quickly she ran away from him just a moment before. She’s not quite ready to take that step, but the Phantom is more than ready to Get Down.

Such an effortless “be” during this song and then he holds it for a moment. He pauses briefly to make sure he’s not dribbling spit again, and then embraces Christine and encourages her to touch him, all the while tracing a hand up her torso. He doesn’t actually touch her, but the almost of it is so much more powerful. It is the hint of what she can expect if when she sleeps with him.

The only time the gracefulness disappears is when Christine faints after seeing the Mirror Bride. She falls and he has no idea what to do, so he scrambles over to her side and stares at her for a moment. He hadn’t been expecting that to happen! He does figure that the polite thing to do would be to cover her with his cape.

His “help me make the music of the night” is so gentle. It’s a plea to her to accept him, to trust him, to see him, to fuck him, and to inspire him.

At I Dreamed/STYDI we see more of Franc’s phenomenal acting. This is the first and only time we see the Phantom looking calm and peaceful. Christine is safely sleeping, so he can focus on his first love: music. He gives a satisfied hum at what he’s written, right before Christine rips the mask from his face. His calm is shattered, and Franc shows us just how hurt and angry the Phantom is by Christine’s actions. He’s no longer thinking, just reacting, and he lunges at Christine. The brief chase around the lair and Christine tripping and falling is enough to shock him back to himself, albeit a very sad one. He collapses to the ground crying with a drawn-out “curse you!” He then takes a moment before pleading with Christine that he is more than just his awful face. He might be super ugly and probably going to hell because of it, but even so he wishes he could go to heaven. He sympathizes that Christine probably hadn’t been expecting to see what she saw when she took his mask, and he wonders if she is brave enough to look at him. But even if she’s afraid, he knows that fear can turn to love. Franc spends a long time on the floor here before he starts to crawl toward Christine, pleading with her to see beyond his disfigurement. He finally reaches Christine and stretches a hand toward her and gives us another moan on “oh, Christine!” At first she doesn’t react, and he crumples to the ground again and we can hear a sad, quiet gasp from him. It’s as he fears: Christine has rejected him because of his face and not at all because he was yelling at her two minutes beforehand. But then the unexpected happens: Christine gives him his mask back! He stares incredulously before slowly taking it back. He replaces his mask and gets very, very close to Christine, unconsciously mirroring the placement of her hand. But he doesn’t know what to do now so he decides it’s time for her to go back up to the opera house, and startles her with his sudden yell.

The night of the Il Muto performance! Franc is obviously having a great time during this scene. He gets to watch the show from above! You can hear the glee in his voice as the Phantom tells Carlotta “perhaps it is you who are the toad??”

Franc’s delayed laugh here makes me laugh. The Phantom is just letting loose here and having a grand time messing with everyone. He has to do something to stave off the boredom.

“I gave you my music” is sung so softly and sadly. Christine has seemingly chosen Raoul completely, and the Phantom just doesn’t know what to do about that. It doesn’t last long, as he eventually settles on anger. Anger at Raoul for taking Christine, and anger at Christine for not choosing him. In addition to anger at the managers and opera house cast and crew for not obeying his orders. In revenge, he drops the chandelier on the stage. Perhaps a good lay would have prevented this from happening. The man is dealing with some serious pent-up sexual frustration.

Franc has a great time hamming it up as Red Death. He gives us plenty of grand gestures and even points upward at “shattered chandelier.” Unfortunately for the audience and for us, the Red Death costume is the worst costume in the show. It is so bulky as to be comedic. It looks like one of those ridiculous blow-up suits. It enhances nothing and hides everything. Where the Don Juan cloak hid everything but gave us hints as to the shape(s) underneath, the Red Death costume makes him look like Ronald McDonald. With a skull for a head.

Franc’s Phantom is half pleading and half trying to convince Christine in the graveyard to return to him. He reminds her that he is her Angel of Music, and he has allowed her more than enough time to explore the world on her own, but it’s time for her to go back to him. Raoul interrupts and the Phantom spares him a quick look to assess the situation. Raoul proves more influential here, and Christine leaves the graveyard with him. The Phantom is left pleading for them to not go, but then declares war on both of them. I should also note that Franc has chosen the correct side and is firmly Team Daddying Gaze.

In the above gif, we can see Franc reacting to Christopher Carl’s appearance onstage. This is just further proof that Franc is a wonderful actor.

It is now time for PONR and the Phantom is in full seduction mode. He gives Christine a goblet of wine, then proceeds to use his hand to stroke her jaw, her neck, down her arm, and then reaches her hand, all with the lightest touch. Christine is obviously very turned on, and who can blame her?

His voice remains light and seductive. And when he reaches past her waist, shown here, Christine moans.

There is a lot of caressing that goes on here. But then it’s time for Christine’s solo, and the Phantom can only sit there and listen to her and suffer silently. He rubs his hands up and down his thighs and fans his legs, as if that will fix that not-so-little problem he has at the moment. And when Christine touches him, he moans. You might think that Christine would recognize him at that point, but she’s only heard him moan once, during MOTN. All those times on the roof didn’t count because she was too busy being proposed to by Raoul.

Christine realizes it’s the Phantom under the hood and tries to escape. No such luck. They finish the duet, and the Phantom reaches for Christine’s waist, but she whips his hood off. He’s so stunned he cannot do anything at first but stare at her in disbelief. He starts to retreat from the stage, but decides that he has nothing to lose by proposing to her. He begs her to accept him, to say she wants him. He finishes by giving her his ring, which she puts onto her own finger before ripping his mask and wig off.

Franc’s Phantom sounds angry when he’s asking Christine “why?” on the boat ride back to his lair. Understandable, considering he just bared his heart to her after a very seductive song. However, his initial joy upon seeing her wearing the dress dissipates once she asks him if she is going to be prey to his “lust for flesh.” Instead of answering her directly, he tells her that his face has prevented him from engaging in sexual relations.

He goes on to say that it’s his face that is getting between himself and Christine, then laments for a minute about how he was treated as a child by his own mother. Christine begins to show him pity, which is not what he wants. He wants her to give herself to him completely. But Christine knows it’s not his face that is the problem, it’s his behavior. He seems to be listening to her, but is distracted by the arrival of that whore Raoul. Raoul’s pleas to the Phantom to free Christine seem to amuse him, but his pleas to show compassion are met with derision and anger. Why should the Phantom show compassion if he never received any? Why should anyone get that which he has been denied his entire life? I would ask who hurt him, but we know. This is a man who has been hurt so often that all he knows is how to hurt others in turn.

When Raoul demands to be allowed inside to see Christine, the Phantom is gleeful. Clearly, he’d underestimated the boy’s stupidity.

He puts Raoul in the noose, mocks him, and then drags Christine away from the boy and gives her a choice: choose the Phantom or Raoul eats it. He scurries back over to his organ, and it’s clear that he’s regretting his actions. He’s slumped over the music, but once Christine starts singing he’s all ears. She explains that she might have held pity for him, but no longer. Now she’s angry, and it’s all because of him. She hates him, and the Phantom can only mouth that one word in disbelief.

Thanks to the filmer and their excellent zooming skills, we can see the conflict on the Phantom’s face. Grief is soon replaced by anger at how Christine is not playing by the rules he set out; anger that she continues to not choose him. This has become a battle of wills, and the Phantom is losing, despite the unwinnable “choice” he has given to her. He is desperately clinging to any sense of control, but he is slipping. It’s too late, he tells her, but she continues to defend Raoul from him, by physically blocking him and pleading with him. Anything that will save her beloved. He angrily brushes her off and retreats to his throne. He tries to impress on Christine that she has run out of time. She needs to choose. He is still regretful over his actions, as we can see clearly by the pout on his face when he sits on the throne after telling Christine she has “passed the point of no return.”

Christine isn’t done, however, and tells him that he deceived her. This upsets him. He springs up and tells her that she is trying his patience and she will make her choice. He turns away, seemingly giving up all hope that she will choose him. But when Christine starts singing “pitiful creature of darkness” he turns his head toward her ever so slightly. He’s listening to her, he’s thinking about what she’s saying. But when she spins him around and kisses him, it’s so unexpected that he doesn’t react for a moment before suddenly realizing what is happening and tries to push her off. He squirms a bit in him embrace, clearly not used to being touched. When she hugs him, he can only stare helplessly at his hands. Perhaps he is thinking about how those hands have created music and caused harm, and what is he supposed to do to them? We see the anguish on his face over his actions. How can Christine bear to touch him after everything he’s done? He seems to melt into the second kiss, but then pulls away in shock. He reaches for Christine’s face, but then brings his hand to his own lips.

He’s still processing what just happened, and when it finally hits, he lets out a gasp and walks slowly past Christine in a daze. He glances upward with a small smile, feeling that he has had a taste of heaven at last as he brings his fingers fully to his lips. And then he spots Raoul. If not for the boy, he would not have done all most of the things he’s done. He looks like he’s actually going to burn Raoul, only to stop and look at Christine. He looks remorseful as he nods rapidly, then burns the rope holding Raoul up. He retreats to his organ again, his place of safety, and suddenly he looks weary. All the adrenaline has worn off, and he tells Christine and Raoul to leave him and forget everything they’ve seen and everything that’s happened. He is letting them go. He staggers over to his throne, all the while telling them to take the boat and promise to never speak of what they know. He can’t stand upright at this point, and lets out a dismayed whimper when he realizes they haven’t left yet. He doesn’t want them there because he knows he’s going to fall apart, and he doesn’t want any more pity. He collapses to the floor after they leave, and looks over as the music box starts playing. He crawls over to it and sings along as it plays. This has been his life: a masquerade, hiding his face and pretending to be something he is not. His sorrow almost overwhelms him, but then Christine comes back to return his ring. It isn’t right for her to keep it.

Before she leaves, the Phantom tells her that he loves her. She runs away with a sob, and he is left calling after her, repeating that he loves her. He puts his ring back on and scoops up the veil to cradle it in a facsimile of carrying a bride on her wedding day. He can hear Christine and Raoul singing as they sail away, and he examines the veil, as if perhaps imagining Christine wearing it again before he cradles it to his chest.

Franc gives us one final moan before his last line. He looks so defeated as he slowly walks over to his throne and throws the blanket over himself. At this point the Phantom has probably been awake for three days straight and is in dire need of a nap.

Phantom moan count: 15

Christine moan count: 1

#phantom of the opera #poto #franc d'ambrosio #may he never read this #this was also an excuse to display the majority of the franc gifs I have collected #I do have more #socks reviews

[cheerfm]

( grace van dien | ciswoman | she / her | twenty - five ) ––– it's just been another long week in boring - ass hawkins. isn't that right, chrissy cunningham ? shit, i guess they can't hear me over sweet child o' mine by guns n' roses playing through the headphones of their walkman. it looks like they're gonna be late for work as an er nurse. did you know chrissy has been in hawkins for her whole life ? yeah, their family and friends describe them as benevolent, but i've seen them be innocent too ! i would also say they remind me of a scrunchie secured tightly around one's wrist; the squeak of a new pair of sneakers against a gym floor; smiles that don't quite reach the eyes but ooze kindness, but is that weird ? i guess nothing's too weird for this little town, huh ?

BASICS Full Name: Christine Elizabeth Cunningham Nickname(s): Chrissy, Cunningham, CC Age: 25 Date of Birth: March 25th, 1962 Place of Birth: Hawkins Gender: ciswoman Pronouns: she/her Sexual Orientation: closeted bisexual Family: Laura Cunningham (mother), Philip Cunningham (father).

BIOGRAPHY - TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR ABUSE & DISORDERED EATING

Chrissy Cunningham was born on March 25th 1962 to Laura & Philip Cunningham.

Laura Cunningham entered Chrissy into her first beauty pageant when she was just five years old.

Chrissy won her first pageant when she was eight.

When Chrissy was twelve, her mother started to adjust her dresses. Making them smaller and smaller. Restricting her food in the process.

This meant that she cut out any form of sugar, aside from the sugar found in fruit.

Her mother, unfortunately, didn't stop there and continued to make small adjustments to all of her clothing.

Chrissy was sixteen when she first developed an aversion to food. Ensuring to vomit the contents that she'd eaten before it could be fully digested. (Her eating disorder is still very much present in her life.)

After graduation, Chrissy attended Hawkins Community College and earned a degree in Nursing. This is where she decided to cut off all contact with her parents.

She currently works as an ER Nurse at Hawkins General Hospital.

#hwkinsfm.intro

[cdaae]

Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote the part of Christine Daaé for his wife, Sarah Brightman, and for her impressive vocal ability, something the Lloyd Webbers refer to as The Voice. This raises a question, as anyone who saw Brightman in The Phantom of the Opera can attest: The Voice sounds great, but what about . . . The Acting?

That's why, last season, the best Phantom tickets were the ones for Thursday nights and Saturday matinees -the two performances each week when La Brightman rested. On those days Patti Cohenour, a petite thirty-five-year-old American actress with a full-bodied and lyrical soprano, reinvented Christine with a pathos that deepened the entire enterprise.

Now Cohenour has taken over the role, and it may help her make the leap from Broadway ingenue/critic's darling to star. Her graceful neck, porcelain skin and delicate nose and mouth give her face the sad seriousness of another era-perhaps that's why she's almost always cast as a vulnerable nineteenth-century heroine (most notably Rosa Bud in The Mystery of Edwin Drood and Mimi in Joseph Papp's 1984 La Bohème).

As Christine, Cohenour's scenes with the Phantom are so sexually charged that she ignites Michael Crawford's already passionate performance. "If you've ever been in a relationship that's out of control, that's obviously going to be very destructive, then you know what this relationship is," observes Cohenour. "Ultimately Christine chooses to live a long life rather than be with this vicious, brilliant, thrilling creature."

Even the mausoleum song ("Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again"), once the longest number on God's earth, is now a well-acted playlet in which Christine finds the resolve to take hold of her fate. The scene, says Cohenour, is particularly resonant because she lost her own father in 1983 and because when she was rehearsing it she was catapulted back to her childhood in Albuquerque, New Mexico. "When I was five years old, I used to take this cat I had and stand in the brick barbecue pit and sing to it. I imagined blue lights all around me," she recalls. "When I was rehearsing the mausoleum scene, I was standing onstage in a blue cape, surrounded by blue light.

I remembered that image, and I was completely struck dumb, because it seemed that as a child I had seen ahead to this moment." It may be that Cohenour's link to Christine-the chorus girl turned opera star--goes deeper than even she dreams.

#phantom of the opera #phantom #the phantom of the opera

[mazm-imagines]

Tear Out A Broken Heart

I think I'm done cooking the Raoul fic. 2724 words under the cut. First half is dialogue from the game with written stuff added to it bhjubn hjhb mjn

“Won’t you leave this city with me and be happy…?”

…

A deafening pause that felt like eternity followed a response.

“I’ve made my decision.”

Raoul sucked in an anticipatory breath. Surely it would be a yes!

“Raoul, you are forcing me to choose again…”

“…!” The realization caught him off guard enough to step back.

“…” His surprised expression soured into a grim one. 

“I too, am forcing you to make a choice…” Again it always came down to this. No matter if it was him or Erik, someone would always place pressure on Christine. Why was it that he never could get better?

“... Please, forget what I just said.” It was embarrassing. Did he even have the right to apologize to her anymore? 

“...” More silence. Christine’s expression had soured to melancholy in turn. He had to say something. He couldn’t even give in to the overwhelming desire to embrace her. 

“Christine, I am sorry…” Raoul couldn’t help the apology that fell from his mouth anyways. Just anything to soothe her pain. No words on earth could have ever expressed his remorse. None of it could alleviate his guilt.

Raoul mustered the courage to close the distance again, he knew what he had to do.

“Raoul…” The beautiful sapphire eyes he loved that entire time held more sorrow than he ever thought they could, as if they would shatter any moment.

“At this point, I can’t even ask you to trust me. I can’t even trust myself anymore.” Even now he was terrified that he would cling onto her soon again once more. That he would drop to his knees and tug on her skirts, begging for forgiveness. He had already said sorry lazily a hundred times over, throwing the word around as if it had no weight besides absolving his guilt. Now it was too late.

Thinking back on it, what good did his obsession do? How was he any different than Erik? Did he expect his sins to be cleansed under Christine’s name?

“Everything I’ve done ‘for you’, has caused nothing but pain for you.”

“...” Every second of silence cut into him. Forced him to think on his actions. 

This obsession… Why did it even start? When did it start? It would have been all too easy to say when Christine graced his colorless life once more. But that burning passion pre-dated her.

I lived for her. I lived for her. I lived for her.

I’d die for her. I’d die for her. I’d die for her. 

I’d kill for her- No. That would never be what she wanted from him. Thankfully he had missed the key shot. Surely she never would have forgiven if he didn’t.

She was the only one that never wanted anything from him but for his safety. 

He truly did love her from the bottom of his heart…

“In retrospect, I can’t even be sure if I actually did it for you…” He couldn’t tell why anymore. He had assimilated his desires with hers for too long. Of course there was a part of him that did it for her. Seeing her shiver in terror triggered his primitive desire to protect. But there were certain actions that could never fall under that excuse.

If he did do it for her, then why had he rejected her pleas? Why did he insist on throwing the ring? Why did he lash out at her friends? Why did he plan to kill Erik? He didn’t do that for her. He did it to prove his worth. He did it for himself. His pride. 

Never in his life had he had any control in his situation. He was to do as he was told. No resistance, no fuss. 

Once more he had lost control of his life yet he trusted Christine more than anything in the world. He would have willingly given her control of his life. However his lack of ability to help her sent him spiraling; in the end he attempted to control her life, just as Erik had. 

If he couldn’t be Christine’s knight, then what was he? Certainly not the Chagnys’ golden boy.

“...” Of course she was speechless. What could she say to such a selfish man?

And yet she opened her mouth,

“I love you, I love many things about you.” How could she still say that to him? How could she still love him after all he did?

She was a merciful goddess, and she loved only him… He was all too quick to return the sentiment.

“I love you too. I love everything about you.” He was nothing without her, but someone as perfect as her would be far better off without him.

“I truly wish for your happiness.” She was his happiness, and he would never find that happiness again. But with the kind look she wished the equally kind sentiment with, he couldn’t bring himself to say that.

“As do I, Christine. Just as your death were my biggest fear, your happiness is my greatest joy.

So I wish for you to choose the path that'll make you happy.” Perhaps, it was time to let go. If her happiness needed him out, then so be it. Even if it cost him his own.

“… And why can’t we be together, on the same path?” Why would she say such a thing? To raise even a glimmer of hope? He silently pleaded for said hope in his heart to die. 

“... I am most uncertain.” It hurt him to reject the offer, but he had to for her sake. Christine knit her lips tightly, she must have been just as hurt as he. 

The two silently gazed upon the sun rising on the horizon; yet the sun was setting on their love. But just as the sun rose for another day, so would they apart as they did together.

“Christine, may I ask what your plan is from now on?” Christine would have thrived in anything she put her mind to. Raoul wasn’t sure if he could have however.

“I plan to sing, and travel the world. I might return to Sweden with my mother, go to Turkey with Melek, or even travel the world with Ms. Alonso.” A wonderful plan-! But...

“But it will be too dangerous for you to travel alone. Christine, I know you’ve overcome all the difficulties and dangers so far. But the world may be even more dangerous than Erik, the master of the opera house. I am somewhat worried that you have to go through the harsh world alone.” Raoul regretted pulling away already. The world was dangerous, and to leave Christine to brave it alone? He couldn't have done that to his love. Christine had a perfectly reasonable idea ready to assure him.

“Ms. Alonso must be in Rome by now, I plan to go to Rome, and ask for help. Raoul you remember Ms. Alonso mentioning that right?”

“Ah, yes. I do remember.” That woman… Raoul recollected his racing thoughts. If Christine was under Ms. Alonso then she would be just fine.

“From now on I will only sing for me and me alone… and I will travel the world of my own free will. Whatever I want to go.” The look in her eyes- he had only seen such determination in his seniors at the academy. She didn’t need him anymore. 

Christine used to sing for him, but she was no longer bound to him, just as his life was now no longer bound to hers. He never made her, and she would never make him. 

“At least I will hear your name often.” Maybe one day they would see each other. Changed but alive and well. He knew she would be just fine.

“Yes, indeed…”

“Adieu Raoul.” The distance was closed even further, foreheads gently touching. Close enough for one last kiss…

“So long my Christine.” He couldn’t allow himself that pleasure, instead turning his head to look for a stagecoach. She truly wished for his happiness. If he were to find happiness now, he must do it without her. It was what she would have wanted.

…

Raoul couldn’t help but run back from his stagecoach to their final goodbye, but Christine had left. 

He wanted to plead: ‘I’ll come with you! Please take me-!’

‘Please…’

Tears started to well in his eyes. He was prone to crying ever since he was a child, it never felt as if he left said childhood. He could hear Philippe scold him already; Christine would have merely wiped his tears with a gentle hand, whispering soft assurances.

There was no one to do any of that. No harsh love from Philippe nor Christine’s tender touch. All he could do was wipe his own tears with a dirty sleeve.

How was he ever going to live with himself?

—

Raoul knew if Philippe was alive, he would give him hell for staying at a low-class inn. 

The small bed he fell on was stiff compared to the large one he would have slept in normally. That would be his life now. A dull cheap living. 

It felt utterly lonely. Shouldn’t he have been in his wedding bed with Christine by now?

He would have bought her the finest comforters he could have bought. Not much with his current finances, but he would have taken up any work to ensure a comfortable life for her.

Now he would have to take up work for his own sake. 

It seemed the maid had accidentally left the faucet on. He must have let the sound pass through his ears while he was contemplating his situation.

There was still dirt on his hands from digging Erik’s grave. Perhaps he should go to wash.

…

Realistically, he should have been dead in the Arctic by now. The only reason he gave up on such a suicidal mission was for Christine. What was the point now? To live by himself? 

He was ready to throw his life away. For the Chagnys honor, for Christine. Yet Christine wanted Raoul to live. Did Philippe even want that?

Of course he did. That was why he came to look for him. That was why he…

It’s all my fault. It’s all my damn fault. I am sorry Philippe… please. Please come back!

Tell me… What should I do? What do I do now… Tell me… please…

You were right. I am nothing without the Chagnys, so please…

He couldn’t carry the burden anymore, nor could his legs carry the burden of his own weight.

It was all his fault. Pushing Christine away from him, getting Philippe killed. Those were sins he couldn’t wash away no matter how much he wanted to. The tears flowing from his eyes nor the water of the underground river could never have cleansed them. 

He was finally truly and utterly alone.

Rapid breaths held his senses hostage. He desperately attempted to wipe his face but the tears just wouldn’t stop.

It felt as if he was drowning all over again.

‘Get up. What are you, a drunkard?’ Philippe would have scolded him if he were still alive.

‘No sir…’

He should’ve listened to Philippe. He should have gone to die in the Arctic. At least Philippe would have been there in his stead. No one needed the black sheep of the Chagny family.

…

If he left, Christine would have been utterly miserable without him. Erik would’ve taken her as his bride and surely she would’ve… He didn’t even want to think about what would have happened to her. 

Raoul shuddered at the thought. This wasn’t even accounting for Melek nor the other opera house employees. They would have suffered as well if he and Daroga didn’t take initiative.

He truly did pity Erik, but there was no way in hell he would’ve allowed for his depravity to continue.

Over the span of a night, Raoul felt his innocence rip away from his hands. 

Lust for murder, agonizing torture and loss. He had suffered more in one night than he had over his youthful 20 years of life.

His only north star to guide him was his dear Christine. Now she too had left. Surely she wouldn’t have wanted him to be a mess if she had seen him in such a condition…

Why did he want permission to live? Philippe’s or Christine’s?

No more no more no more no more. Stop stop stop stop.

There was no one to give him any directions. No one to ground him or keep him under curfew. No one to tell him to stop. 

What was he to do with himself? The last time he held any semblance of control, he nearly lost himself in rage…

No matter what, he couldn’t regret his decision. He regretted everything he did to Christine, but he could never regret his loyalty to her. That was the meager agency he allowed himself.

The carpet started to feel disgusting. Dampness snapped him out of his stupor and back into sensibility. 

Must be a leak.

He must’ve felt exhausted to think of such matters again.

Raoul got up from his position on the floor in favor of his original plan. The grime on his face and sleeves started to irritate him and he was in severe need of a wash. 

After throwing his overcoat on a nearby chair, he finally went to the bathroom.

—

For a while now, the sound of running water made him flinch. 

Ever since he had been found washed up on the riverbank and in turn found Philippe’s body, Raoul couldn’t look at water the same. He couldn’t even take a bath without worrying about drowning. Yet reluctantly he would push himself into the water while holding his breath, praying he wouldn’t be pulled in by a siren of some sort.

He was a damn sailor! He was trained for the sea-! He saved Christine’s scarf from it… And here he was, grimacing at the flowing tap. Raoul washed his face and hands in a hurry before twisting it closed. Turning his eyes up met him with his own reflection. 

He carded a hand through his disheveled hair in an attempt to get it in order. The unnatural pink marked him as a Chagny. Philippe and his sisters would have the rosy hair styled prim and proper. As of now, Raoul hadn’t had the time nor the energy to style it. Perhaps he should shave it off. He was no longer a Chagny, and he certainly didn’t want any attention that it brought.

From the corner of his eye he could’ve sworn he saw a tree from that damned forest. Immediately he turned his gaze from the mirror.

Not only could he not tolerate the sound of running water, any longer than a few minutes spent on a mirror would drive him into hysterics. 

The face he saw that day in the torture room wasn’t Raoul de Chagny. It was the face of a monster.

…

No. That was an excuse. That face was purely his own. The monster he saw that day was a warning.

He didn’t want to be the Raoul de Chagny that lashed out at others nor the Raoul de Chagny that couldn’t help himself out of a paper bag. 

No use in mulling it over now, he was already washed up and in need of a rest. He let himself merely drop onto the rock hard bed.

He had to purchase a ticket to Turkey for Melek before tomorrow evening. But the chance of meeting Christine one last time to deliver it…

He’d get someone to deliver it to her doorstep. He should start to learn how to live alone anyways.

Well, that was a little too severe of a punishment. He couldn’t live in solitude forever. Perhaps he would find someone to love again, just as he loved Christine-

No… no one could ever replace her. No one could be the little Lottie he played with in youth except her.

Raoul shook his head in an attempt to regain his composure. He wouldn’t entertain his obsession again, no matter what. He will find new people to love. This life belonged to him and him alone now. Perhaps it would do him good to think about what to do with it.

#mazm #mazm phantom of the opera #raoul de chagny #christine daae #mod gwaaaaar #gwaaaaar writing

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

From reddit. Reminded me of someone.

"To me, Stevie has always had the air of someone who lacks a real social life, and she is incurably wrapped up in her own version of her history and how she perceives that people see her.

I used to find her arrogance and self aggrandisement endearing and eccentric, but as she gets old, the level of her detachment is worrying. You can pretty much play bullshit bingo with her interviews… the breathy, superlative way she talks about her own clothes or homes, the way she talks up her own character, sometimes quite aggressively, with zero provocation, stories about her past that don’t quite ring true. She talks about her career as if she’s the only woman who has ever written and performed her own songs or been in a band, when of course she’s one of a fairly large number and she’s actually not one of the most prolific. She talks about her own songs as if they are absolute classics and even quotes her own lyrics in interviews. She will bash away at the piano with all the skill, grace and rhythm of a well fed monkey, but appears to believe she’s playing like Christine. She talks about her ‘art’ as if it has never occurred to anyone else to pick up a pencil and draw. And she talks about the personal sacrifices she’s made as if she’s done the world a massive favour like Jesus or Aslan, and says it with a fervour that kind of seems like she’s still trying to convince herself as well as everybody else. And still talking about Lindsey and speculating about their relationship with a depth that often crosses the line of disrespect and bad taste. They broke up forty-five years ago and he’s happily married with children.

I think the word I’m skirting around is ‘delusion’. Stevie’s self importance is something that has been there throughout her entire career, and it has always coloured her music, almost like a trademark. In her songs, like all her well trodden anecdotes, she is always the victim, the mediator or the hero, or various combinations of the three. But Lindsey’s right, she is lonely, and it’s obvious. Her extreme lack of self awareness is a textbook sign of a lack of meaningful interactions with people. Perhaps her arrogance has pushed people away, but she has clearly surrounded herself with colleagues and acquaintances who are not correcting her, and that has made things even worse.

I have no doubt that she genuinely believes this narrative web she has woven around herself, partly because there is no one to tell her otherwise, and partly because it is all she has. I absolutely believe that she did have Lindsey fired, but I think for her it was just a hugely misguided way of shaking up the tired-ass Lindsey/Stevie narrative. I think she figured there’d be a reunion at some point and it would all be another string-laden chapter in this legendary love story she thinks exists. But she did not consider that this is his career too, and he had (and has) every right to be angry. I think the lack of meaningful relationships in her life has created a mindset where the people who are in her life are nothing more than dispensable extras in the Stevie story, characters for her songs, to be dismissed and sent for as she sees fit.

I’m so happy he’s spoken out and I hope people listen. More than that, I hope she listens. I just hope 73 isn’t too old to wake up and, basically, get a life.

Don’t get me wrong, but I am a Stevie fan and have been for a long time. I adore her music and listen to her often, but I have no illusions about her. I find her personality unbearable."

This is about Stevie Nicks, and the references to Lindsey Buckingham are to this disgraceful, late episode of Fleetwood Mac. The lawsuit was settled.

True about Stevie’s isolation and narcissistic delusions, and also true about the similarity to Harry Styles. The difference is that Stevie really did have outstanding musical talent.

#stevie nicks #harry styles

[runonthewater]

I may have posted this before but it's honestly one of my favorite videos of WLW/MLM solidarity: Sophie B. Hawkins and Clive Barker passionately and entertainingly arguing down Christine O'Donnell on Politically Incorrect with Bill Maher in 1997.

Extremely good gay moments in this:

Clive jumping in to make absolutely over the top jokes about sodomy and "oral" plans at 2:00

Sophie getting worked up around 3:27 and pulling her feet up onto her chair so she can argue more effectively

O'Donnell saying "I don't know what Jesus you've been talking to" and Sophie yelling "You don't know who we've been talking to, that's the problem!" at 4:15

O'Donnell saying "What God? The God of the Bible or your version of God in Hellraiser?" and Clive exclaiming triumphantly "So you saw it!" at 4:44

Sophie's big jacket throughout god she looks good

Sophie also has her shoes off and is sitting in the most barefoot queer woman way possible at 6:26, I love her, I want to be her

she also argues for equal civil rights clearly and convincingly, GOD, can one gay really have it all

Clive and Sophie making identical "god, okay, keep it together" expressions at 8:23 after O'Donnell says the phrase "people who aren't accepting God's best in their lives"

followed by Clive responding to O'Donnell saying she has "homosexuals" in her family by acidly saying "Some of your best friends?"

Sophie letting out a jungle shriek and levitating out of her chair at 10:36 when O'Donnell says there's no such thing as separation of church and state and there shouldn't be

10:58: O'Donnell mentions "ex-homosexual program"s, Sophie starts to jump in, Clive puts a hand on her wrist and she nods and says "Go" like a falconer releasing a falcon

On coming back from another commercial break at 11:47 Clive has joined Sophie in sitting incorrectly and barefoot on his chair

Sophie getting HEATED when O'Donnell says "When you've experienced God's grace in your life--" "We've ALL experienced God's grace in our life. That's an insult. That's an insult!" at 13:52, SPIRITUAL QUEERS LET'S GO

followed immediately by her and Clive sharing a big hug

followed immediately by Bill Maher joking about the two of them leaving together, and the two of them handclasping with the tight grip of rock climbers holding each other to the face of the earth

followed by Sophie asking how O'Donnell might feel about her and Clive getting married, O'Donnell saying "that would be a heterosexual marriage" and Sophie and Clive jumping over each other to say "NO NO NO IT WOULD NOT BE"

Listen, there's parts of this that are hard to watch. Bill Maher is here; he says stupid, provocative shit, including some stuff to O'Donnell that's absolutely gross. Christine O'Donnell is an out-and-out Christian nationalist. Clive and Sophie are defending their basic dignity and humanity and O'Donnell is allowed to have the last word, even though the last word is her laughing awkwardly as she fails to find a clobber text in the epistles.

But goddammit do I love watching Clive and Sophie. I love watching them hold each other's hands and bash back at O'Donnell and cackle while they do it. I mean it when I say this is queer history, to me, that this is what I want to be in the world. I want to take off my shoes and hold my siblings' hands and laugh heaven's laughter when they try to make me quiet.

#lgbtqia+ #pride #lgbtq #clive barker #sophie b hawkins #Youtube