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37sommz · 3 days

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✼. THRU SPACE 'N TIME | THE TEAM.

NOW PLAYING: michaela's management team. ✼. view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀ABOUT MICHAELA SOMMERS⠀⸻⠀australian-born formula one driver, michaela sommers is one of the most electrifying young racers to grace the sport. as the first female driver since lella lombardi, sommers has been smashing records and solidifying her impact on the sport since her debut in 2019. currently driving as the second seat for aston martin, michaela sommers has achieved a total of six race wins to accompany thirty-four podiums and sponsorships from louis vuitton, skims, and mattel.

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀ABOUT GUIDO MAROTTA⠀⸻⠀michaela's manager, guido marotta, has been a consistent face during the driver's upper-level career. guido took over for michaela's uncle, travis sommers, in 2016 before michaela's second season in formula two with prema racing. known as the "shadowy figure behind the rise of michaela sommers" marotta has been lauded for managing sommers' career. guido is recognized among the driver's fans as being the perfect match for her ambitions. more controversially, guido has publicly called out teams, drivers, and sponsors who have been less than fair to michaela for her gender and frequently clashes with the fia.

date of birth: february 02, 1976 hometown: venice, italy ethnicity: italian nationality: italian languages: italian, english height: 5'11" (181 cm) active since: 2016 faceclaim: raoul bova

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀ABOUT LUIZA MELO⠀⸻⠀michaela's trainer, luiza melo, is known for plenty outside of being part of the team. as a three-time olympic beach volleyball medalist, luiza knows a thing or two about the importance of health for a successful career. having been michaela's trainer since her move to mclaren in 2021, luiza immediately began working to increase the driver's stamina and strength, drawing praise for the noticeable difference in her performance. as an integral part of michaela's routine, luiza travels with the fellow australian to every race. the two have become extraordinarily close in recent years with luiza moving in just doors down from michaela's high-rise monaco apartment.

date of birth: january 14, 1990 hometown: adelaide, australia ethnicity: brazilian nationality: australian languages: english, portuguese height: 6'0" (182 cm) active since: 2021 faceclaim: lais ribeiro

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀ABOUT BEATA GASPARRO⠀⸻⠀michaela's press officer, beata gasparro, is her team's most visible member. forever glued to her side at every race weekend since joining michaela during her time at alfa romeo, beata has a reputation for being protective over the driver who she considers to be one of her own. sommers' impeccable media training is largely attributed to gasparro who has makes sure to keep her client in the spotlight all without giving away too much. if there is any question about beata's love for michaela, her instagram (full of pictures of the driver alongside beata's family) proves how preciously she holds the australian in her heart.

date of birth: november 27, 1965 hometown: genoa, italy ethnicity: italian nationality: italian languages: italian, english, spanish, french height: 5'9" (175 cm) active since: 2019 faceclaim: monica bellucci

✹.⠀⠀،،⠀ABOUT ISMAEL GANEM⠀⸻⠀michaela's race engineer, ismael ganem, is perhaps every fan's favorite member of her team. affectionately referred to as "izzie", the egyptian-british engineer was a driver in his own merit, having raced in both british formula and formula three before leaving to pursue education. ganem first worked with michaela during her successful formula three season. though both would leave the team at the end of the 2015 season, michaela to move to gp2 and ismael to join aston martin's engineering team, they would be reunited in 2023. famously, michaela claims ismael was the one to convince her manager, guido, to pursue a seat with aston martin after a series of fiery disputes with mclaren. the pairing of izzie and mickey has been exceptionally successful with ganem even joking he would follow sommers to whatever team she may move to in the future.

date of birth: may 22, 1971 hometown: london, england ethnicity: egyptian nationality: british languages: english, arabic height: 5'10" (178 cm) active since: 2015, 2023-present faceclaim: ahmed ezz

✼. taglist:⠀@evie-119 @lavisenri @doodlehunz @thearchieves @pamacs-macs @hwalllllllelujah @d3kstar @thewannabewriter @vogueprincess @cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar

✼. note:⠀if you are listed here but are not receiving notifs, pls let me know!

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dw-writes · 1 year

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Out of the Woods - Fae King x Reader

summary: when confronted with a possibility you despise, you run to the woods for comfort and straight into the arms of someone you never expected.

Hi. Its been a while. here, have some SMUT but specifically MONSTER SMUT because i don’t have anything else to post and i wanna post something that i think is good. let me know what you think

ps: this is related to another smut piece i wrote titled The Woods are Dark so if you wanna hunt around for that also, you can. I’ll try to link it here eventually. It was an earlier piece so im not sure if the smut compares but, you’ve been warned.

trigger warnings: SMUT, double penetration, vaginal/anal/unprotected sex, monstrous partner

You always watched when your sister left for the woods. You knew she wouldn’t be alone – you had threatened Raoul with an axe in the head if he made her walk through the woods by herself – but it still frightened you. There was something off about those woods. Something odd. Sinister, maybe. You couldn’t put your finger on it.

You crossed your arms, standing at the end of the path between the corn, until your sister’s deep brown hair blended in with the shadows of the forest. Your father called your name behind you and you turned. He limped down the stairs, using an old, thick stick to help him walk. His pale skin was stark against the gnarled brown wood and you frowned.

“Mother said you hurt yourself fixing the plow,” you stated. Your father grimaced as he touched the ground and groaned while he sat on the stairs. You paced over to him. “Perhaps you should stay inside.”

“The last time I checked, you were my daughter. Not my mother,” he jested. He grinned and patted the space next to him. “Come. Sit down. Let us talk.” He brushed his hand over your hair as you sat. You stretched your legs out and stared at your boots. The leather was cracking where your toes were. “You know now that you are of age,” he started slowly.

You groaned and shot to your feet. Your boots rolled just a bit and you stumbled. “I am not marrying,” you protested. He started to argue. “No, these people – they’re barbaric! They treat you and mother both with such disdain – and you expect me to marry one of them?!” Your words stumbled over each other as your anger grew and boiled over. Your father gripped his stick with both hands and watched as you ranted. “I refuse to!” your voice cracked as it shot up an octave. He opened his mouth again. You crossed your arms. “No.”

That was it.

He shut his mouth and sighed. “You cannot be a spinster,” he said softly. He tilted his head to the side and down, then looked at you through the mess of dark red hair that hung from his scalp. “You know someone must stay in this house.”

“No one must stay in this house,” you spat, “If the village wants to keep someone between them and the forest, they can fill the house themselves.” The anger in your voice struck your father. He looked down. You released a scoffing sigh. “I just….” Kneeling in the dirt, you placed your hands on the shoes of your father and stared up at him. This close, you could see the color of his brown eyes growing cloudy with age. “They are just woods,” you whispered. You shook your head. “This is a punishment neither you nor mother should have had to endure.”

He was silent as he watched you. Leaning in, he pressed the softest of kisses to your forehead and sighed. “You must hunt before it gets too dark,” he murmured. He said nothing of the house or of the woods. Just a soft, “Stay in sight,” as he stood and limped back into the house.

You stayed kneeling on the ground. The door creaked as it was shut behind him.

You wanted to scream.

Rising to your feet, you stalked between the garden of herbs and flowers, and the tall stalks of corn, and made your way to the ramshackle barn nearby. It was larger than the house by at least half and the wood of the barn had lightened considerably with age and sunlight. You struggled against the sliding door – the metal inside must finally be rusted – until you pushed it completely open. The dark smelled like dirt and tasted like metal. You walked only a few steps inside to your hunting weapons – your musket and your axe – and donned them both. You thought of your father’s words again, all of them.

You had to marry? Had to? Would he force you?!

You walked from the barn and headed into the woods, far from where you had watched your sister enter them, and far out of sight of the house. You would hate to mistake Raoul for prey, especially while in such a foul mood. You followed another path, this one with bent grass and small prints that indicated rabbit, until the house disappeared behind you and the sun filtered green through the trees. You kept your eyes on the trail as they filled with angry tears.

“If people fear these woods so much, they can guard the town themselves,” you spat at no one. You gripped the strap that held your musket to your back until your knuckles paled. “It’s not a job for outcasts,” you growled. You thought of your sister and mother, how their dark brown skin was a stark contrast to your father’s. How you all were always the subjects of narrowed eyes and cruel whispers.

You whirled on your heel and stumbled, screaming into the trees, “We’re not outcasts! There’s nothing wrong with us!” Your voice fell flat.

“No one here has said such,” came a voice behind you.

You spun around, gasping, struggling as your boot twisted in the dirt. You tumbled, fingers digging into the ground as you scrambled backwards. Your back hit something solid.

“Careful,” said the voice again, right above you, “You’ll hurt yourself.” The voice was deep – deeper than Raoul’s, deeper than any voice you had heard before. It sent a shiver down your spine. Hands slid over your shoulders and down your arms, helping you off the ground. Another two hands brushed over your hips, steadying you. You held your breath. “Are you alright?” the voice asked, “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No,” you breathed, “You startled me.”

The musket was carefully pulled over your head, until the long strap dangled far above you. You carefully looked up, then watched as it was placed gingerly on the ground. Your ax followed it. Long fingers brushed your hair back from your face as whoever stood behind you leaned down. “Apologies. I never meant to scare you.” Warmth breath smelling of cloves and tobacco rolled over your cheek. You closed your eyes, relaxing as the fingers slowly pressed into your skin. They pulled the collar of your loose blouse down over your shoulders. “You’re much more beautiful up close,” the voice whispered.

“You’ve seen me?” you asked.

The hands – all four of them – turned you around to finally face whoever they belonged to. He towered over you far more than any normal man would. At least, you thought him to be a man – his lack of trousers revealed two erect cocks between his legs, each a different size and girth. You dragged your eyes away from them to his face. Long golden hair was twisted out of his face, with braids tucked carefully behind four long and pointed ears. His eyes were large and round and glowed in the evening sun, set into a face as brown as the trees surrounding you. A blouse of silver hung off his shoulders, half open as though he’d been interrupted in removing it.

“Hard not to when you watch the woods so intently,” he answered. He asked after your name, not to claim it, but to make sure he knew it correctly, then gave you his, “Zephyr.” He smirked, showing sharp fangs that he licked with a thick, pointed tongue. “King Zephyr,” he corrected himself.

His hands moved as he spoke, stroking your hair, loosening your blouse until it fell down your arms and exposed your breasts to the cooling air, kneading your hips through your skirts, and tugging them up your legs.

“King of what?” you whispered.

A finger brushed over your mouth while a hand squeezed a breast tight in his palm. Your tongue traced what pushed against your lips as you granted him access he hadn’t thought to ask for.

Zephyr groaned. The sound shot straight between your thighs. “Anything you ask for,” he answered. His hands gripped your hips and picked you up like you were nothing. “Everything you ask for.”

You held two arms as you swirled your tongue around the appendage in your mouth, digging your fingers into his skin as he carried you deeper into the woods. The hand left your breast and delved beneath your skirts to rid you of your bloomers. You gasped, then whined as the digit left your mouth, trailing saliva down your chin and around your neck. Your heart raced against his palm. Zephyr growled as he broke through the trees to a clearing. Your own hands left his arms and slid over his shoulders to take hold of the thick braids that tumbled down his back unseen. You tugged him to you once, only once, and he bowed his head to devour the whimpers leaving your mouth unheard as deft fingers toyed with your clit.

He knelt in the grass, pulling you over his wide lap until you felt his cocks slide against the slick that dribbled from your aching cunt. He grunted, adjusting your hips, then groaned as a hard cock slid between the cheeks of your ass. You gasped, and he didn’t miss a beat; his pointed tongue rolled into your mouth, which he coaxed open wider with his own to fit the girth of it between your lips. You whined.

Zephyr pulled back with a breathless gasp. His hips rutted against yours and his fingers rolled your clit between them while his hands quickly rid you of your clothes. Your trembling ones pushed off his light blouse.

“You’re so much more beautiful like this,” he murmured as he moved down, trailing his tongue over your skin. You swallowed, licking your lips, tasting the viscous liquid his mouth left behind and shivering. “So beautiful and wild and open,” he said around your nipple.

You mewled as his fingers delved into your soaked cunt, swearing as he spread it open for the thicker of his cocks. Your hands fluttered over his chest as you choked out a stuttering, “Wait!”

“Hm?” A hand squeezed your unattended breast and rolled the nipple between his fingers, while the one around your neck loosened its grip, and a third caressed your back and down the curve of your ass.

“Wait,” you gasped. You rolled your hips and felt both cocks slide over both your empty holes. “Can I take both of them?” you nervously asked, “Both of them, two different spots?”

Zephyr’s eyes lifted to yours. They glittered with mischief as his hands left your body. “Oh?” he asked, then chuckled, “I knew you were special. I could see it.” He lowered you to the ground, where the grass parted to fit you. He shifted down your body and licked his slick lips. “Both, then? One will need assistance, of course,” he murmured.

You nodded. “Please,” you begged.

Two hands pressed your thighs open, moving them until your hips tilted up. Another hand returned to your breasts, alternating between them as it squeezed and pinched your nipple while the last of them encircled your neck and squeezed. His tongue first lapped at your dripping pussy, and he groaned at the taste of you, then moved down to your untouched ass hole. His tongue circled the puckered hole, smearing not only the juices he’d collected from your cunt but the slick saliva that dripped from his drooling mouth.

You arched your back with a loud whine. You shivered and slid your hands down your body, squeezing the breast that Zephyr ignored while pressing your fingers against your throbbing clit. You slid them into his hair and bucked your hips into his face.

The king snarled against your skin. His tongue prodded your puckered hole carefully, and muttered as rumbling, “Relax.” His hands pulled your legs over his shoulders and left them, taking your hands and pulling them from your body. “Relax,” he repeated. He pulled his tongue back and slurped at your cunt, swallowing, then blazed a trail of teasing kisses up your body. He sat back enough for your heels to catch on his shoulders. He moved both of your hands into one palm and lifted his free fingers to his mouth.

You watched him, gulping, eyes wide, lips parting as he thrusted his fingers into his mouth and groaned. He pulled them free, a string of thick liquid sticking to his lip, and dropped them to your ass. He traced your puckered hole with one, and carefully pushed the other in, to the first knuckle, then the second, and the third. It was warm and thick and spread your hole wider than you’d ever felt before. He thrusted the finger slowly, and you whimpered a pathetic, “Zephyr!”

He squeezed your throat tighter, eyes darting from your face to the nipple he tugged unkindly at, to the fluttering of your cunt as it squeezed around nothing, and finally to his finger sliding in and out of your ass.

You squirmed, gasping, feeling light as the air was cut off from your lungs. You’d never felt anything like what he gave you, and you hoped that there would never be a night without it ever again.

His grip on your throat loosened enough to release the loud whine that had built up in your mouth. He carefully pulled his hand back from your hole and lined up the thinner of his cocks to it, pushing in slowly, carefully, cooing at you to relax whenever he met resistance. He groaned as you fluttered around every inch of him, squeezing him as he bottomed out even deeper than his long finger had reached.

Your eyes pricked with tears. You tugged at the hand that held your wrists together and squirmed beneath him, babbling, begging him to keep going, to fill you up.

“Anything you wish,” he groaned as he lined up his second, thick cock with your cunt. He tugged you up onto his lap and sheathed you over him in one quick move, your legs dropping from his shoulders to his elbows. He held your hands above your head. Your bent legs sank as he wrapped two arms around your waist, bouncing you slowly on both cocks, while his fourth hand rolled over your clit. He lowered his head to your neck and sucked on the exposed skin. “Anything you fuckin’ wish for, my love,” he rasped.

“Lemme stay here with you!” you wailed, “Lemme stay! I wanna stay with you!”

“Then stay you will,” he growled against your skin. He bounced you faster, mindful of his pace and the feel of each of your holes around his cocks, making sure that you were still able to take him as his thrusts grew erratic. His hand released your wrists to wrap around your back, his fingers digging into the plump flesh of your hips.

You looped your arms around his neck to stay upright, mewling and moaning into two of his four ears and chanting his name until your throat was sore. Your head swam, and your body ached as your walls clamped around his cocks again and again, chasing orgasm after orgasm until you thought your body would split apart.

Zephyr lowered you back into the grass, using two hands to press your legs up against your chest as his thrusts grew harder and deeper, his cocks swelling in size as he finally neared the apex of his high. His fingers rubbed fast circles against your clit until you were seeing stars.

The last of your orgasms snapped a coil tight in your belly. You threw your head back and shrieked into the night, tears welling in your eyes as everything spasmed and shook. Zephyr, in turn, buried his face between your breasts as he snarled loud. Hot, thick cum filled you, spurting in such large ropes that it seeped out around his cocks and down your thighs to the grass below. You wrapped shaky arms and trembling legs around his large form as he relaxed against you, his growl tampering off into a low, rumbling groan. All of his fingers smoothed over your sweat slick skin.

Somewhere beneath your heaving pants, you finally heard the cacophony of moans and grunts around you. You dropped your head against the ground and looked around, catching sight of other couples or groups, each deep in the throes of ecstasy as they fucked or sucked or licked anything they could get their groping hands on.

Your heart stuttered. Zephyr hummed, his hot mouth kissing the skin of your chest. “I apologize, my love,” he murmured, “This was the best place to go where no human eyes would feast on your body.” He brushed the hair from your face as you watched him, took in his features until they were imprinted in your mind. “Such a wild thing,” he whispered, “They don’t deserve you out there.”

“Where are we?” you finally asked. You dropped a shaking hand to his cheek and cupped his face, smoothing your thumb under his mouth.

“The woods,” he answered with a slow smile. He took your hand and placed a gentle kiss against your palm. “Though this is the Revelry, and the Revelry only takes place in my court.”

“Are the woods your court?” you whispered.

“Not all of them,” he replied, “Only the part where the door to my court is.” He leaned into your touch more. “We went through it. And we can go back through it.”

You cupped your hand around his other cheek and pulled his face to yours, pressing a gentle kiss against his wide mouth. He rolled his hips into yours as his tongue traced your bottom lip. You whined. “I meant it,” you breathed before he could steal your words, “I want to stay with you.”

“And you shall,” he replied. He snapped his hips against yours, his cocks hard once again. The squelch of your mixed fluids sent a wave of heat through your body and into your face. He smirked. “First there,” he groaned with another thrust into your fluttering holes, “And then here. You have my word, and my word is law.” His thumb tugged on your chin. “Now, open your mouth.”

You had never obeyed a command faster.

Your father was anxiously waiting in the early morning hours when you finally left the woods, your musket and ax over one shoulder while you carried a bundle of rabbits over the other. You explained that you hadn’t meant to take so long, that you had to camp when you realized that you were too far to make it through the woods at night.

Your sister, however, failed to believe you when you tried to share that story with her. She eyed you, crossing her arms, watching as you carefully sat outside while your father worked to skin the rabbits in the kitchen.

“Where were you, really?” she asked.

You merely smiled and shrugged. “In the woods,” you answered.

She turned when someone knocked upon the door of your family’s cottage, then whipped back to you when the sounds of your mother talking with another man drifted through the house. You stared at the back door, frowning, and stood with her, heading inside. A man stood just inside the open front door, towering above your mother and father. His crisp, golden hair was tied back with a black ribbon, and he dressed far too well to be standing in your family’s small cottage.

“I apologize for barging upon you and yours so early,” he said. You leaned against the wall of the storage room, watching him through the opening leading to the rest of the house. His voice was so familiar, the deep tones vibrating in your rib cage. “But the priest directed me here when he heard I was looking for a spouse.” He cleared his throat and bowed at the waist. His dark brown eyes cut across the house to you, as though he’d known you would be standing there. His lips quirked up in the slightest of smiles. “My name is Zephyr. And I’ve been told much about your eldest, so much that I would be honored to extend the offer of marriage.”

Your heart skipped and your breath caught as a smile slowly spread across your face.

~*~Thanks for Reading~*~

#monsters #smut #fae boyfriend #oc x reader #monster boyfriend #original character x reader

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scorchedcandy · 2 months

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If (some of) my ocs were in a dating sim, who would you pick?

Brute forcing through art block for a silly little au post for Valentines Day (and a bday gift to myself lmao). They’re in more modern clothes rather than what they’d wear in TES/d&d to fit the vibe. The background is from Palia bc I’ve been playing it to death.

OC Traits/Pronouns/etc below the cut

There's more info in their specific intro posts but these are like dating blurbs lmao

Adair - he/him; bisexual; 22; 5'10" not including antlers; circle of spores druid (necrobotany vibes); tiefling (Baalzebul or fey I'm looking); loves cooking, baking, woodworking, anything artistic, making preserves, gardening, crafting, and clinging; gets cold and sick easily; doesn't talk very much; forest cryptid/liminal space vibes like he's just chilling

Samael - he/him; bisexual; 24; 6'; rogue; Imperial; loves dancing, music, drinking, skooma/smoking but working on it, cats, flirting, minor alchemy stuff, in modern aus he'd vibe with motorcycles and mechanics stuff; can be quite the romantic but u gotta break down some walls before he's not just flirting to flirt

Mavus - he/him; gay trans man; 26; 5'8"; necromancer; Dunmer; loves studying, reading, writing, alchemy, magic, caffeine, quiet, tea, and cleaning; forgets to sleep and eat when he's working on something; sticks to a skincare routine so his hands don't get too dry; affectionate like a cat in that you know you have him when he's doing something different in the same room as you

Raoul - he/him; gay; 40s; 6'4"; warrior; Breton; loves woodworking, playing flute, birdwatching, helping people, reading, and cooking; sober; very strong but very gentle; has a hard time saying no when someone needs help so he'll overextend himself; comfort food fixes all

Korilian - they/she/he; queer nonbinary (possibly also my only polyamorous one?); 28; 6'8"; jack of all trades; Altmer; loves learning, exploring, trying new things, tinkering and inventing (they made their prosthetic), fashion, makeup, and dancing/music; down to earth; they don't let much bother them

Julian - he/him; bisexual; 25; 5'10"; owns a dragon sanctuary; human; loves dragons, alchemy, drawing, journaling, singing/dancing (the dragons join in), dragons again, meeting new people, and cooking; his companions are Lucent and Apophis and Lucent's approval is hard to come by (he's jealous that you're getting attention); kind to a fault; infodump alert

#im happy with how this turned out overall #my ocs #i guess i havent posted any julian before lmao #my art #digital art #tes #dnd #skyrim #hatchlings #oc: adair elowen #oc: samael menant #oc: mavus veloren #oc: raoul galien #oc: korilian elsinaire #oc: julian rodres

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lotusunset · 1 year

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Far too many pics of the Palais Garnier (Part Three!)

In October of 2022, I had the extraordinary experience of getting to complete an 15+ year old dream of mine to visit the Palais Garnier. I took a metric fuckton of pictures and now I want to share them with you all, the PotO community!

Before I start dumping, a few things:

Please reblog this post. I usually don’t post a lot, therefore I don’t have a big following. I’d really appreciate people sharing these as much as they can. When I was a dumb kid in ye olden days of the internet, finding a post like this was the sort of thing I would have been hyped up on for weeks. Help spread that kind of joy!

Feel free to use these photos for any sorts of graphics, artistic reference or any other fandom related projects, as long as it’s not for profit. Please just credit me in some way. In fact, I'd love to be tagged to see whatever creations come from sharing all this!

This is part three, which is a continuation of pictures from the interior. I will continue to share information from the tour I took in this post as well. In fact, these are some of my personal favorites, as I never knew about some of these rooms as just some silly American girl on the internet. I hope you guys enjoy these even more than the last!

Part 1 (Exterior) | Part 2 (staircase) | Part 3 (HERE) | Part 4 (stage)

This is the grand foyer, an area that is pretty heavily photographed already. Standing in this room is almost as impressive as the massive staircase. The paintings on the walls and ceilings depict a lot of mythological scenes. In one of them, there is a hidden portrait of Garnier, along with the other artists that were involved in creating the paintings. The doors leading to the 2nd level balcony are located in the grand foyer.

Historically, only the gentlemen were allowed in the grand foyer, as it was seen as a place for them to converse and do business until one night, the Queen of Spain decided that she didn't care about such arbitrary rules. Ignoring it completely, she entered the room. The men all decided to leave, offended that even a queen would dare to encroach on their space. As word traveled around the Opera that night, all the other women soon joined the Queen in the foyer, wanting to see for themselves that she was there. Afterwards, men and women were begrudgingly allowed to mingle.

I found this to be a very interesting room. At the end of the grand foyer, this room was full of sunlight and comparatively simple decorations. The wealthy patrons themselves served as the real decorations of this room, as they would gather here for refreshments! The common folk, while not permitted to enter, would come to simply watch the rich people indulge in lots of expensive treats.

In fact, the menu still hangs on the wall in the form of all the portraits! All the women are holding items that symbolize various food items, tea, coffee, wine, game meat, fish, ice cream, citrus fruits and pastries.

I couldn't help but imagine Raoul taking various treats and sneaking them out to share with Christine.

We weren't allowed to go down this hallway but it just continued to make this place feel like a giant maze.

These two rooms were nearly identical, though on opposite ends of a hallway. A few mistakes were made during their construction. The top room is known as the Sun room, for its warmer ambiance. The bottom is the Moon room.

Firstly, the rooms were meant to be swapped locations. The Sun Room was supposed to lead into the gentlemen's smoking room, but the Moon room leads to it instead. On the ceiling of the Sun room, salamanders are painted. The little amphibians were believed to ward off the danger of fire and protect the building. By the time the mistake was caught, it was too late to change it.

The other mistake can be seen in the mirror illusion in the Sun room. Because of a fault in the construction of the mirrors, the glass is too curved and the error is magnified with the illusion. The light appears to bend around a corner, instead of repeating on into infinity.

I imagine Erik was quite cross with the workers when he realized these errors occurred. I certainly wouldn't have wanted to be on the receiving end of his temper that day!

Looking at the star motifs painted on both ceilings, I wonder if they could have inspired Christine's Star Princess costume in the musical.

PART 1 (exteriors) | PART 2 (staircase) | PART 3 (here!) | Part 4 (stage)

#phantom of the opera #poto #le fantome de l'opera #palais garnier #paris #opera garnier #christine daae #raoul de chagny #erik #photography #art reference #history #architecture

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dimorphodon-x · 1 year

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Sparkplug's Garage

Raoul has no idea how he got here, or why he's no longer human. No time for him to panic though, and these strangers might at least help him stay grounded so he can try to figure out what's going on.

“Hey! Wake up!”

Raoul lifted his head with a jolt, eyes snapping open to bright white. He winced and blinked a few times, his eyes readjusting, “huh?”

“Did you get drunk or somethin’?” He turned his attention up to the stranger’s voice, seeing a cybertronian he didn’t recognize. A boxy older looking individual was holding his hand down to him. Huh. He didn’t seem all that tall, Raoul noted, as he reached for the other’s hand. He’d never seen one of these guys up close before, only on T.V., and he didn’t see any red or purple badges. Was he safe?

Metal clanged against metal as Raoul took the mech’s servo, his eyes widening in surprise as he was pulled up.

Huh…?

Raoul stared at his hand for a moment, flexing his fingers as he turned his wrist over. Metal, painted a pale shade of brown similar to his leather gloves. He could see the joints in his knuckles turn as he flexed his fingers.

“You’re not hurt, are ya?” right, the other guy was still there.

“Um… no,” he shook his head. He could hear the faint groan and shift of metal as he did so, “I think I’m fine.”

The old cybertronian raised a brow, “ya sure?”

Raoul nodded, “yeah, you’re right, I must’ve overindulged the drinks last night or something, heh.”

Again, the old mech gave him an odd look, but shrugged, “alright, I’ll take your word for it. I’m guessin’ you’re here for the job?”

“Job?”

“Yeah, Sparkplug’s Garage,” the old mech tilted his head to the ground, “I’m guessin’ that’s why I found you passed out in front o’ my shop, yeah?”

Raoul turned his attention to his surroundings. Oh. This was not New York. This was definitely a city, but it was not one he recognized. Tall buildings with unique structures, billboards advertising strange alien machines and writing he had never seen before, but his mind seemed to be able to translate and read.

And of course there were the many cybertronians roaming the streets and sky pin either bot or vehicle mode. Wild.

Raoul curled his fingers as he then turned his attention to the mech’s shop, barely taking note of the small sign saying ‘now hiring’ and instead staring straight into his own reflection on the glass doors, both familiar and foreign.

Blank yellow eyes stared back at him, his face a deep silvery color, with just a hint of his previous skin tone. His body was boxy but looked fast and athletic, and he still had his ponytail, though instead of hair it was made up of black metal fibers of some kind, “huh…”

“Kid?” The old mech frowned, a mixture of worry and annoyance in his tone, “your eyes are goin’ white.”

“Uh…” Raoul scratched at his jaw, trying to cover the sudden surge of panic, “I think I need to sit down.”

The older mech grabbed his arm, his grip firm but gentle as he led him towards the doors of his workshop, “alright, let’s go inside and get ya calmed down.”

Raoul simply nodded a silent thanks as they walked into the building. He idly looked about at all the tools and neat piles of metal and more stuff he didn’t quite understand as he was led to the back of the shop towards a break room.

“Here, sit down,” the stranger pulled out a stool from under the table and stepped back to give Raoul some space.

“Thanks, mister, em…?” He cast the old mech a questioning glance. He hadn’t gotten his name yet. The mech perked as he seemed to catch onto his silent question.

“Ah, th’ name’s Sparkplug,” he introduced himself, then waved a hand out vaguely to the room, “s’just me an’ my charge, Spike runnin this place. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make any jokes about his name by the way, kid goes through enough.”

“No problem,” Raoul didn’t know why anyone would poke fun at the name ‘Spike’ anyway, “I’m Raoul.”

“Interestin’ name,” Sparkplug tilted his head, eyes dimming for a brief moment, “nice to meet you, Raoul.”

He simply nodded, eyes turning to another door at the back of the break room as he heard footsteps approach. Soon a mech smaller and slightly sleeker than Sparkplug stepped in. His colors and some of his shapes were rather similar to Sparkplug, so he could probably assume this was Spike. (So by ‘charge’ Sparkplug might’ve meant something akin to ‘son’). In his hands he balanced three glassy cubes, each filled with a pink liquid.

“Got the energon,” Spike looked towards Sparkplug and then glanced over at the newcomer, “hi.”

“Hi,” he waved his hand in a casual greeting.

“Thank you, Spike,” Sparkplug grabbed the cube from the top of the stack, briefly turning his attention back to Raoul, “I commed him to bring an extra for ya. Figured you might need it.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” Spike shot a friendly smile as he offered the third cube to Raoul. He stared at it for a moment, glancing at the other two as they started to take sips from their cubes. It didn’t look… bad, but he had never drunk anything that glowed bright pink. Though he supposed with his… current appearance, he would be fine.

With slight hesitation, he slowly lifted the cube up to his lips and tilted his head back, drinking in just a tiny bit. It wasn’t bad. It was thicker than water and left a slightly static sensation on the tip of his tongue. Not in a bad way, strangely, and it was mildly sweet.

Raoul internally shrugged and drank more, finishing off the cube in a few seconds. He sighed as he set the cube down, “s’good. Thanks again.”

“It’s no trouble,” Spike nodded his head.

“Feelin’ better, kid?” Sparkplug set his empty cube onto the table. Raoul nodded.

“Glad to hear it. Although, mind if I ask you how you ended up passed out in front o’ my shop?”

Raoul felt his brain stall. Honestly he had no idea how he got there. One minute he was in New York and the next he was waking up here.

“I, uh…” he paused, staring at the table in thought. He briefly recalled the sign out by the doors, “I was on my way to apply for a job here. I… guess some goons jumped me or something, I can’t remember much.”

“You were attacked?” Sparkplug frowned. Raoul just shrugged.

“I guess. Probably wanted to try and rob me or something,” he averted his gaze, “would’ve left pretty empty handed though. I don’t got much.”

Sparkplug hummed in thought, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t have any papers or files on me,” Raoul still looked himself over, trying to find pockets or something to look through, “but I do have experience with working on machines and repairing stuff. I really need this job, man.”

Though he conveniently left out the part where he had never worked on alien tech before.

Spike looked between Sparkplug and Raoul, his fingers nervously tapping against his legs. Sparkplug’s deep blue eyes narrowed as he studied Raoul.

“Alright, I’ll let you have a shot at it,” he said after a moment. Raoul felt his frame relax in relief, “we’ll show ya around the place and you can watch us work for the first few cycles to see how we do things before you join in.”

“Thanks!” Raoul smiled. He honestly wasn’t sure what he’d do if he couldn’t stick around. He didn’t know this place, and chances were he wouldn't run into others who were as nice as Sparkplug and Spike seemed to be, even if he were still on Earth.

At least, he was pretty sure he wasn’t on Earth anymore. And if he wasn’t, he had no idea how he’d get back, if he could at all.

#fanfic #transformers #transformers g1 #transformers au #raoul #tf raoul #sparkplug witwicky #spike witwicky #don’t think I’ll write a whole thing for this au just snippets and ideas

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ifyouhappentoremember · 1 year

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Quick Thoughts - Phantom of the Opera - Broadway - March 27, 2023

The main trio was Greg Mills, Julia Udine, and Paul A. Schafer.

The energy in the theater was just electric. The audience was so enthusiastic and the cast was just on top of their game; everyone just had so many good details.

This is the first time, in all 25 times I’ve seen the show that I’ve had an understudy for Madam Giry on! I would say that Janet Saia plays Madam Giry a bit kinder that Maree Johnson. I always considered Maree Johnson’s Giry’s top priority to be only her and Meg, but Janet Saia’s Giry cares about the folks in the opera house.

I was sitting close enough to the stage to realize that Jim Weitzer’s Reyer was singing along with Piangi during the Hannibal Rehearsal, not mouthing along the lyrics.

Nehal Joshi’s Andre is just so good. I know I say this every time I do a write up, but this man has so many good details.

When Carlotta was singing ‘Think of Me’ Nehal Joshi’s Andre was singing along (not mouthing, singing along like he was a Kpop stan).

The look of utter relief on Nehal Joshi’s face when he thought saying ‘These things do happen,’ to Carlotta was the right thing to say, only to have the light completely die from his eyes, the moment he realized that he messed up.

The moment Greg Mills started singing from the mirror, I knew that I was going to be in for a ride.

He just has so many good details. I don’t think I managed to catch them all.

People started applauding, when he appeared in the mirror, I think he broke character and cracked a smile? (Or we can just say that he was smiling arrogantly cause the Phantom knew he was in complete control at this moment.)

Also during the title song, when the Phantom and Christine are on the boat and the ensemble is singing the chorus, the way Greg’s Phantom caressed (I’m still not sure if this is the best word) his face, touching his lips, all while gazing at an unaware Christine???!

A lot of good hand acting details, in which Greg’s Phantom almost touches Christine’s face. but doesn’t quite manage to close the final 2 centimeters.

The difference you get from the masked, mysterious, almost sexually charged man to the unmasked, pitiful, unhinged man still the same high quality hand acting though.

During Point of No Return, Greg’s Phantom starts off with an Italian accent and as he got more enthralled with his ‘brilliant’ scheme, the accent slowly started to slip away.

When Julia’s Christine flashed her leg on the bench, the man’s brain just broke. His hand reached out like he was going to go for it, but he just ended placing his hand on the bench instead.

During Down Once More, most Phantoms like to option that second why into a wail/scream. Not Greg Mills. That why was a low, raspy growl.

We love a good sarcastic bow when Raoul emerges from the lake.

It always kinda cracks me up when a Phantom looks so dejected when Christine sings the ‘tears of hate’ line. Greg’s Phantom looked extra sad and dejected, as if he was thinking to himself “where did I go wrong??!”

During the line ‘send him to his grave,’ Greg held the veil, like it was a noose around his neck.

Oh, lord, the kiss.

Greg’s Phantom is just so overcome. He can’t manage to wrap his arms around Christine during the second kiss.

THE CANDLE IS BACK!!

Just when I was thinking to myself, “why must every Broadway Phantom gaslight me into think that they’re going to pick up the candle by walking right up to the organ,” Greg picked up the candle?????! The spark didn’t work, so now I’m wondering if the candle is part of the new standard blocking for the remaining performances or if Greg Mills just went, “Fuck it, I’m doing what I want.”

During the masquerade reprise, Greg’s Phantom was mimicking the monkey’s cymbals, before just slowly deflating and softly covering the monkey’s face.

The second ‘I love you’ was to the space Christine had left behind, and the third, softer yet, was to the veil, right before he picked it up.

Greg couldn’t get the final line out completely before the audience started cheering. That’s how enthusiastic the audience was.

Really love that when Greg Mills took his final bow as the Phantom, he ran out high-fiving his cast mates.

#I know there is so much I missed #I already knew walking out of the theater there was no way I could capture it all #poto broadway #quick thoughts #greg mills

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