#like ten years before he actually played Phantom of the Opera

[ennaih]

Every Film I Watch In 2023:

84. The Mystery Of Edwin Drood (1935)

[therealvinelle]

You mentioned Love never dies in one of your recent podcast episodes. I would love to hear if you have any more thoughts about that you would like to share here?

Oh little do you know.

@theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin and I first watched Love Never Dies when Andrew Lloyd Webber released musicals for COVID, it was instantly the most incredible thing either of us had ever seen and we watched it again as soon as Muffin came online the next day.

We have since rented it, rewatched it before the 48 hour rent period expired, and I think watched it a fifth time somehow though I don't recall the details for it. It's... very possible we watched it thrice that rent period. One of them was broadcast to the Rank Heresy discord server, so it did have a purpose, we just... also rewatched it...

Love Never Dies is the single funniest, most delightful, most entertaining and glorious musical we have ever seen. Everything about it, from the uncomfortable incest anthem, to TEN YEARS OOOOOOOOLD, to the nonsensical "Devil takes the hindmost!" leitmotif (thought I was having an English fail, but no, Muffin had no idea what that meant either), to the Phantom's great artistic vision being a Coney Island circus extravaganza where girls sing about swimsuits, to said extravaganza hemorrhaging money so Meg has to prostitute herself to keep the lights on, to Christine dying at the end and Ralph says to the child he raised, "Aight son, hope you like phantoms because you'll be living with one from now on. Kk bye", to ALW being so mad the ugly guy he projected on lost the girl that he wrote the whole thing in the first place (um actually Christine loved the Phantom so after the ending scene where she chose Raoul she actually ran back into the opera basement, made love to the Phantom, then ran back again to Ralph. It was a night of passion and the song about it will take ten minutes. Beneath a Moonless Sky, my beloved. Also Raoul is a stupid idiot who spent all his money and Christine regrets everything).

And yes, the above list was only going to be a few lines long but I couln't stop naming beautiful things I loved.

Oh my goodness, another thing I almost forgot (which is sayign something!): the Phantom finds out Christine and Raoul have a child, his immediate response is "Ah, yes, it would be a shame if something... happened... to that child..."

Proceeds to get the child on his own while his parents are distracted, only the child starts playing the piano... my god... the child is ten years old... MY GOD...

This is where we get the incest anthem, the Phantom drops the infanticide plans and starts serenading his son about the beauty underneath, a terrible intense impulse you must follow, and desires we deny ourselves, how his son will accept and embrace it, and... the lyrics are just so bad, alright, and the acting somehow made it worse. Watch at your own peril.

Wild fucking ride.

[maybe-your-left]

ASK FRIDAY - CREATE A SCENARIO: roommates trope with Kylo

Due to some last minute room swapping and late registering Reader and Kylo end up in the same dorm but they're mad about it and hate each other (cue intense sexual tension)

Dorm room, Snowed in, evening time like 6

The heater/power has just gone out and Kylo knows a few ways to get warm...only if Readers up for it...

been working on this for FOREVER ANON. 

I loved it! 

Crushed

TW: NSFW, dirty talk, dom/sub vibes, exhibitionism, kinda fluff, Kylos not that nice and is an entitled man.

Oh yeah, you fuckin’ slut. 

Yes-Yes-Yes! 

‘M gonna cum all over your fucking tits.

You slapped the wall next to your bed, hard. 

“Can you guys keep it down! It’s 1 in the morning!” 

Muffled voices came through the paper-thin wall, sounding like bodies moving to the floor. Good, you thought, at least he will get rug burn from the shitty carpet, might keep him from fucking everything that moves. 

A hard knock on the wall pulled you from that thought. 

“Go read your fucking Bible! I’m trying to get my dick wet!” 

“Please!” 

“Why don’t you go get fucked!?” 

Some giggled came through next, followed by more muffled whispering. You whined loudly, trying to ignore the sounds of him fucking whatever bimbo your dormmate had in his lair. Shoving your face into your pillow, muffling your tears and wails. 

You turned on your TV, drowning out the final act of his performance. Fingers poised over your keyboard to file another noise complaint with the RA… not like they ever helped you. The last time they intervened they left with a black eye and broken nose, shrugging for you to sort it out yourselves. 

A door slammed shut, you let out a sigh of relief. 

At least he wasn’t a cuddler. 

You climbed out of bed, tip-toeing to your door to take a peek of whatever slut found her way into his room this evening. The special lady was a new cinderella every fucking week, he didn’t even try to know their names. You heard him admit it once in class to his friends, saying he called them all ‘baby’ so he wouldn’t have to learn. 

You peeked out the door, blinking from the harsh fluorescent lighting of your dingy dorm halls. The walls were a screaming white, yellowing from years of shoddy cleaning. You tried to clean your room when you first came to school, but it was too disgusting. 

A non-smoking dorm, ha. Everyone smoked, especially your neighbor. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed creeper?” 

You jumped at his voice, exhaling harshly through your nose. You steeled your features, caught red-handed looking for his latest prey. Crossing your arms defensively, not that there was anything to hide. You were in your ratty pj’s, they were on sale at Old Navy a few years ago and you never threw them away even though they barely fit anymore. 

“If you’re so interested in being a cuck,” he grinned at you, flashing his crooked teeth, “I would love to have you over for an encore, I’m sure you’d love to watch me in action.” 

“Buzz off, Ren.” 

“Ooo, angry tonight,” he smirked, now stepping out of his door frame. You choked a little at his appearance, no shirt on, basketball shorts barely hanging off his hips. Dangerously low, seriously, if he took one wrong move they would be on the floor. His chest was covered in fresh scratch marks, no doubt from his latest victim, a sheen of sweat glistening under the lights. 

Fuck, he was good-looking. 

But he was terrible. 

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, daring you to stare back at him. 

You gulped, caught again. You were better than that, you were just tired from being kept up since ten with his version of ‘love-making’. 

“My eyes are up here cupcake,” he stepped forward. Pushing you back into your doorframe, almost inside your sanctuary. “If you ever decide you want to break your vow of chastity, I’m right next door.” 

“Step away from me, Kylo.” 

He cocked his brow, “I love when you’re mean, come on. Let’s see if kitty has claws.” 

You bared your teeth, fists balling under your underarms, “Not even if you were the last man on Earth.” 

He shrugged, backing away from you. 

“Deal, bitch.” 

You moved to shut your door on him, “Go away.” 

“See you in class, bright and early.” 

------ 

When you imagined leaving for college, it was different. 

Saying goodbye to your parents, packing your car with whatever small valuables you owned. Determined to make a name for yourself all the way across the country, no friends or family, truly on your own. You imagined everything would be different, the dorm would be filled with new and friendly faces. 

RA’s greeting you as you parked outside, giving you a tour and maybe a group lunch with all your floormates. Getting to know each other, maybe even going to some new-student orientation event they planned for the newbies. 

Classes were smooth, acing all your major requirements. Professors were kind and ready to help you at any moment, letting your artistic vision flow through your body every morning with your 8 AM yoga class. 

But no. 

Instead, you registered late. 

Your classes all at the worst times, bright and early. 

Second rate dorm, COED even… smelly dudes between your single bedroom which would be better defined as a broom closet. Burping and fucking on both sides of you while you tried to study. Your major requirement classes were boring and filled with pretentious art students who thought they were the next Picasso. 

Professors didn’t care if you lived or died, only focusing on the bell schedule because they couldn’t control what the freshmen did in their classes. 

Your options for clubs were limited, either join a sport or a cult. 

And worst of all. 

Kylo Ren. 

He was your neighbor, signed up late just like you. You actually arrived at the same time, he pushed you down on your ass in the lobby so he could be checked in first. Calling you a clumsy bitch, only for you both to be handed keys to the same floor. Right next to each other, sharing a flimsy wall. 

On top of that, he was an art major like you. 

And since he registered late, he was in almost every class. 

Even yoga! 

He took your mat the first day, leaving you in tears in the hallway. He apologized afterward, handing it back to you before storming off to be with his beefy upper-class friends. Any moment he could, Ren would humiliate you. Trying to push your buttons, whistling at you when you had to cross the hallway to the showers. Tripping you when you had your hands full, making fun of you for hanging out with your sparse group of friends. 

And when he found out you were annoyed with him making noise, he latched onto it. 

One week he decided to recite the entire Phantom of the Opera, just because you mentioned in class that you loved that play. 

He did every part, even the musical scores, you could’ve sworn he did it with a megaphone on the wall, just to spite you. 

Your parents told you ‘he just likes you, he’s a boy.’ 

No! 

That’s not how people express feelings, at least not healthy people. 

Your alarm clock blared on your nightstand, you didn’t sleep so it didn’t bother you. Letting out a heavy sigh of defeat, Ren ruined another night for you, a night you’d never get back. Of precious, precious sleep that you desperately deserved. 

Slipping on some plum leggings and a sports bra. No one gave a fuck about your outfit in your early morning class, as long as you went with clothes on. You popped on your headphones, trying to drone out the noise of Ren’s music through the wall. He liked to blast some god-awful music every morning. 

Today, it was an old Black Veil Brides album! 

You made it out of the dining hall, snatching a muffin for breakfast. Smiling at some guys you knew, waving at your friend Rose as you stormed off to the gym. The cold chill of Winter biting at your nose, it was too cold to not wear a full outfit. But there was no time, with Ren keeping you up all night and classes back to back, you didn’t have time to fuck around with dressing up. 

Ren ran in after you, laughing with his friends. Big nose all red from the frost, his hair looked frozen to his scalp, probably showered beforehand. You rolled out your mat, trying to stretch while he bragged about the pussy he got last night. Making a big show of your complaining, saying you were desperate to fuck him based on your whining. 

You rolled your eyes when he planted next to you, “Good morning, you ran out in a hurry.” 

“I didn’t want to be late,” you sneered, not giving him the time of day, still stretching your back into child's-pose. 

“How are we supposed to walk together if you run away from me, cupcake?” 

You scoffed, shooting him an icy glare. Despite him grinning at you like the happiest man on Earth, god, you needed to stop giving him a reaction. That would shut him up if you didn’t give him the attention he is clearly lacking from his parental figures. 

“Good morning class,” your teacher greeted you calmly, “I hope you’re all doing well. As you all know, this next week is finals week, I’m offering makeup classes to those of you who need to make up some credit hours. We are also hosting some meditation if you need time to relax between classes.” 

Next to you, Ren leaned towards your mat, setting his hand right behind your back. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know he was hovering. Ready to devour you like a piece of meat.

“Hey,” he chuckled. 

You stayed quiet, pushing back into his arm so he would move. Ren stayed put, purring in your ear, “Did you sleep well?” 

“Move off my mat, Ren.” 

He smirked down at you, “You seem stressed, do you want me to help by fucking your brains out.” 

You shot off your mat, effectively knocking him onto his back. Laughing loudly in a relatively silent room of students trying to center themselves. He grinned from the floor, hands up in the air in defense, “I’m just offering to help you, Jesus!” 

“Just,” you pointed in his face, hair falling out of your ponytail. Everyone was staring at you, even your instructor. Shocked you were yelling, you barely spoke in class, at the scariest person in your class. 

“Just, leave me alone.” 

------

Ren avoided you for the rest of the week, mostly. 

Still had his nightly fuck-more subdued though, you had on noise-canceling headphones to try and focus on studying. There were still so many classes to get to, and you wouldn’t be finished until the day before Winter break… you were desperate to get this over with. 

You missed your family, the plane ticket itself cost you a whole month of meals. 

Of course, you would do fine in your classes, it was just the motivation to get there. Every morning you glared at Ren when he greeted you in yoga, still standing next to you like a menacing shadow. 

This morning was no different, only you skipped class to study in the library. Bundled up in your winter coat, long black scarf, hair in a lazy braid, and thermal leggings on. The wind had picked up last night, bringing on an ice storm that wasn’t expected until late next week. You walked on treacherous sidewalks, dodging all the other students who were seeking the warmth of the library. 

You settled inside, sprawling your books and laptop on an old desk. Grabbing out a few sketch pads so you could finish up some pieces that were due in a couple hours. Most of your finals in art were ‘unconventional’ which meant the professor wanted to see what you were motivated to work on during the year. 

For yours, you had decided to draw the people you saw on campus. 

Studying their faces, mannerisms, languages while they were in an organic environment. It was a great piece, and one of your professors was very interested in showcasing it in a show. You were proud, it wasn’t large but it was important for you and you wanted it to be perfect before turning it in. 

Your pastels were spread out, fingertips smudged and stained from charcoal, a few lines on your face and brow from forgetting about the streaks. There was this one person you couldn’t finish, it was one of your friends from last week. She was laughing and holding a drink, the expression wide and full of emotion but it was hard for you to capture without her being there. 

But you steeled yourself, you weren’t leaving this spot until you finished her. 

“You smudged that dude's face,” a low voice rumbled behind you. A finger pointing down at the top left corner, “Stop-don’t touch it.” 

You moved to swat the hand away, not wanting some random guy to ruin your piece with their grubby fingers. Recentering yourself, he wasn’t smudged, he was just in the corner so it looked like it wasn’t finished… what did he know, anyway? 

“You didn’t draw me?” 

Now you stopped, why you didn’t recognize the timbre of his voice was ridiculous. 

You let out a long sigh, “Please, don’t touch the canvas, Kylo. It’s not ready, yet.” 

The chair that housed your backpack slid out next to you, your things tossed on the ground carelessly before Ren sat. You scooted away from him, he smelled like he just showered. Judging by his wet hair you were probably right… “What are you doing?” 

He shrugged, fiddling with one of your notebooks. Flipping through pages carelessly, “I don’t know-you weren’t in yoga so.” 

“So,” you gave him a weird look, “You stalked me to the library?” 

“There’s no reason to go to yoga if I can’t bother you,” he flashed a smile, dropping it slightly when he saw you weren’t playing back with him. 

Silence fell over you both, the only noises the heat kicking in around the scuffling of boots and shoes to face the weather again. 

“I like your piece,” he gestured to your work, “For drawing, right?” 

You nodded stiffly, not enjoying his friendly tone. Like he wasn’t your demon neighbor who made it his job to annoy you and had for the past four months of your life. Ren shifted again, now leaning on the table with his cheek resting on his forearm. Looking at you with wide eyes, you never took the time to look at his face. 

He had very large eyes that betrayed his emotions. Swimming with flecks of auburn, gold, and some streaks of green, blinking slowly as he studied your canvas. You looked away from him, trying to ignore the urge to draw them, how his long lashes rivaled your own. How his skin was freckled with beauty marks, creases from frowning lined his forehead and nose. You could even make out his stubble, some pieces he must’ve missed the last time he shaved. 

You went back to drawing, no longer focusing on it. Just trying to understand what was happening, your tormentor was a foot away from you. Breathing calmly like a cat laying in a patch of sun. Hunched over the edge, torso too long to rest like a normally proportioned human being, had he always been this big? 

“Wanna get coffee before class?” 

“Huh?” 

You blinked slowly, not registering that he spoke to you. 

Ren leaned off, letting out a big yawn and scratching the back of his neck. 

Yes, definitely a cat. 

“Do you want to get coffee,” he stared blankly, “Before we head to English?” 

You looked down at your mess, then back up at him. Shaking your head softly, voice quiet as a mouse, “No-thank you.” 

He exhaled harshly, “I’m not gonna burn you with it, it’s just coffee.” 

“No, I’m fine,” you said firmer, “I wanna work on this some more.” 

Ren stayed still, probably trying to think of a way to get you to agree with him. You had known him long enough to know he doesn’t like people disagreeing with him. Didn’t have to be a college graduate to see that the man had issues with control, hence terrorizing you all semester. You didn’t want to offer him an olive branch, because he was just doing it as a joke. Probably, waiting until you were calm around him to do something cruel. 

You went back to drawing, listening to him get up and leave you. Mumbling something under his breath about ‘trying to be nice’ before walking out. You shook off the awkwardness, not willing to break down and let him do something nice for you, just because he didn’t ruin your final piece didn’t mean he wouldn’t do something in the future. 

The day was still young. 

------

Oddly enough, Ren didn’t bother you that evening. 

Not even a door slam! 

You almost thought he was dead, but you saw him in the hallway when you were walking to the bathroom. Wrapped in your robe, caddy in hand, he didn’t whistle or try to touch your ass like he normally did. Just a stale smile before closing himself back in his room. 

Not to waste the precious quiet, you went to work packing your bags for your trip tomorrow. Deciding to do a quick load of laundry, your hall was almost empty, so no one would be down there while you waited. 

Piling up your hamper, you threw your pj's and slippers on. Remembering to grab a blanket and your laptop so you could hang out down there while you waited. 

Your friends back home were all excited to see you, ready to hear all about your time away. The boys you met, friends you made, classes, all that. So excited to get home and see your cat, Gremlin, he was all alone without you. Your mom sent you pictures earlier of him curled in your blankets, saying that he knew you were coming home soon. 

Maybe next Fall you could get an apartment, you didn’t want to leave him for another year. 

A washing machine door slammed shut next to you, causing you to jump from your perch atop your own. Faced with Ren, who was doing his laundry in his pjs, or his version of pjs. Giving you another tight-lipped smile before leaning against the far wall. Yawning loudly before sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. 

You ignored him, turning back to your laptop that was playing a crime documentary. Texting some friends to keep your mind from wandering to Ren and why he was in such a mood. 

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” Ren called from his wall. 

You pretended to not hear him, refocusing on the documentary, there was something very interesting happening and you weren’t about to miss how they found the killer's shoe prints in the mud just because Ren was trying to talk to you. 

Then something was thrown at you, and it smelled awful. 

“Oh-my-god!” 

You shot off the washing machine, throwing down the offending garment. Ren was laughing loudly, “Chill out! It was just an old shirt!” 

“How old was it?!” 

He smiled at you from the ground, propping an elbow on his kneecap. One leg stretched out on the tile, you tried to regain a sense of calm, he was just messing with you again. Just take some deep breaths… in-out-in

“Are you leaving tomorrow, after our final?” 

You let out your deep breath, sitting back on the washer. “Yeah,” you paused your show since mister meanie wanted to have a tea party. “I have to get to the airport right after.” 

He hummed, “Same.” 

The washer beeped loudly, echoing in the otherwise empty room. Ren watched you hop off, fixing your shorts which definitely rode up too much. Trying to not flash him your underwear as you bent to move your clothes to a dryer. You cursed when a sock fell from your pile, great.  

“How come we’ve never fucked?” 

Now all your clothes were on the floor. 

Along with Ren, who was staring at you like you were an art exhibit. 

You dragged your clothes back to the washer. There was no way you were finishing now that they touched the dirty floor, no one cleaned down here and just because it looked clean didn’t mean-

A whistle, “You good over there?” 

“Yup.” 

“Okay,” you heard him stretch, popping his joints as he lifted off the floor. You could feel his breath on the back of your neck as he closed in. Almost touching you, no escape, “As I was saying, how come you’ve never let me steal your virginity?” 

You scoffed, “I am not a virgin.” 

Ren pressed into you, pushing you against the washer now. Grinding his hips into your own, you squirmed, trying to dispel every fantasy flooding your brain. Every night you spent listening to him through the wall, imagining just once that it was you. If he weren’t such a monster, you would have gladly laid on your back and let him do whatever he wanted. 

“Nothing?” 

You took a deep breath, placing both palms on the top of the washer. Biting your lip as you silently pleaded for him to let you go, but also continue. You could smell his cologne from this close, how it complimented him so well. Mixing in with his dark aura, you wanted nothing more than to spin around and…

Soon you were doing just that, but not on your own violation. 

Ren had his hands grasping your hips, thumbs slipping under the fabric of your t-shirt to caress your soft skin. Lips capturing your own, you froze in his hold. Unsure of what to do, a part of you wanted to scream and smack him, but the other part loved the smell of his toothpaste. 

He relaxed when you relaxed, your lips still awkwardly locked together. Not opening and allowing for more, but not moving away either. You stared at him, startled to see him looking back at you. Pulling back slightly, you watched his face chase yours. Bringing your lips together a few more times, kissing at the seam. 

You felt his tongue flick for entry, trying to pry your mouth open so he could explore. When you didn’t move he finally huffed in annoyance, “I know it’s your first kiss, but you’re supposed to open your mouth.” 

You groaned, bringing both hands to cradle his cheeks. There was no way he was going to make fun of you, he initiated this so. 

Ren made a muffled noise when you pressed your lips back together. Probably of shock and surprise, because, no. This was not your first kiss, not even your fourth or fifth kiss. Working your tongue skillfully into his mouth, you moaned softly at his taste. Just like you imagined… not that you put much stock into this but… it was wonderful. 

Bringing your fingers to the nape of his neck, tugging on his dark brown hair. Just like you always wanted to, whenever he walked past you with it tied in a bun you dreamt of tearing through it. Ren returned your affection in kind, his left hand moving to the small of your back. Fingers dancing under the waistband of your pajama bottoms. 

You heard him swear when he felt the lace underneath, nestled between your cheeks. Ren slid a hand over the globes of your ass, moving his hips in time with his tongue. Tasting every inch of your mouth, even growling in approval when you sunk your teeth into his bottom lip. 

Petting and groping each other against the washing machines, the sound of you swapping spit barely heard over the rumble of your clothes. Ren had gotten sick of grinding against your hip bone, pulling away from you for a moment. Shushing your pathetic whimpers, he hooked the hand not cupping your ass behind your left knee. 

Hiking it over his hip, opening your legs up. Allowing him to assault your center with his straining erection, oh you could picture it now. How easy it would be to just let him slip inside you. 

Right here, in the laundry room. 

*Beep* 

You pulled back roughly, barely able to unsuction your lips from Rens' own. A string of spit connecting your kiss-bitten lips, he looked at you with pleading eyes. Grinding himself against you harder, pulling a few soft mewls from your throat. 

“I need to switch my clothes,” you croaked.

He nodded, shakily setting your limb back on the floor and backing away. You watched through your own lust-filled state as he trembled. Walking back to his far wall, a hand cupping his cock through his sweats. Your throat clicked as you took in a much-needed breath, doing what you said you would. 

Setting them in the dryer, all the more aware of his eyes watching your every move. 

Not sparing him a glance when you sat back on the washer. 

Turning on your laptop once again to watch your crime documentary. 

Ignoring the throbbing between your legs, his deep breaths, and your shaking limbs. 

------

The TV’s at the airport all said the same thing, “Record snowfall this winter, right before the holidays! Experts say that we will be lucky to keep power until it passes. Our friends on the west coast are enjoying a white Christmas, while we’re stuck in the North Pole.” 

All flights have been grounded until further notice. 

Stuck. 

You could barely make it back to your dorm without crashing. 

Bursting into tears several times when you realized you wouldn’t be home until it was over. Wouldn't be able to safely leave your dorm room until it passed, leaving you utterly alone. 

You had emailed your RA letting him know your bad luck, he let the staff know you’d be there so they would have food and water running still. 

But other than that, this was your holiday. 

You slipped on the walk up to your room, sobbing loudly in the halls as you clutched your luggage. No going home, no seeing your friends or family, no Christmas dinner, no personal shower, no Gremlin to sleep on your face. 

Collapsing on your bed, curling yourself in the multitude of pillows and blankets that adorned it. The room had shitty heating, the entire building had shitty heating. The entire month of December you’d been freezing, and no amount of personal heaters could fix this kind of cold. 

You drifted off to sleep after crying for a few hours, letting your parents know what was happening. Setting alerts for earlier flights, anything you could do to get home. You were so tired in fact, that you slept through a power outage. Leaving the entire building to shut down, no backup generators. 

And no heat. 

It wasn’t until you felt yourself being lifted that you woke up to the commotion. 

Squirming in the kidnappers' arms, limbs aching from freezing for a time in your bedroom. The window must’ve cracked open because it was much colder than when you arrived. Your attacker didn’t let you go, growling in your ear to be still. 

Dragging you out of the building, towards a car you didn’t notice when you pulled in. With the snow swirling all around, it was a miracle they could see their own vehicle. You were thrown in the front seat, followed by your luggage tossed in the back. You stayed still, every time you moved it hurt, hypothermia. Common in the New England storms if you were foolish enough to be outside… 

You about passed out when the driver's side door opened, Ren climbed in. Looking just as frozen as you, slamming the door shut and mumbling something as he started his car. You could’ve cried when the engine turned, heat blasting between the both of you. 

“Hands,” his teeth chattered, holding his own out. He nodded for you to do the same, grasping your pink fingers between his own and blowing on them. “Power went out,” Ren took a shallow breath, “I was leaving and I saw your car. You were almost frozen to your bed, the window broke.” 

“Th-thank you-u-u.” 

Ren cringed at your fingers, slowly gaining back their normal color. “I tried to grab everything I could, like your backpack and luggage. But we can’t stay there, we’ll fucking freeze.” 

You nodded, tugging your hands away to curl into your chest. Thankful that Ren had enough sense to grab blankets, stuffing them in your lap from the backseat. You thought about grabbing your phone, but you could barely make a fist so it would do you no good. 

“My plane g-g-got ground-d-ed.” 

Ren shivered, nodding sharply, “Mine too, my mom got me a hotel room not far from here to stay until the storm passes. So, I’m taking us there.” 

“Okay.” 

You didn’t say anything else, not wanting to distract him from the treacherous roads. Thank god he had a Jeep, or else you would’ve died. You couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead, less than that when you were on the highway out of the city. 

Ren kept mumbling things like it’s okay, I’m sorry, I know it's cold, whenever you shivered and took in sharp breaths. You must’ve been out for a while, to get this bad. A quick look at the clock in his car said you’d been asleep for three hours, who knows what would’ve happened if he hadn’t noticed your car… 

He helped you out, more carried you, towards the check-in desk. Too worried you would pass out in the car if he left you for too long, the front desk lady was quick and sweet. Making sure to send up extra blankets and pillows to your suite. Ren had you walk up with him, so he wouldn’t have to carry you and the luggage on separate trips. 

You clutched his hand like a child, tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. But he was so warm, it’s all you could think about. All you wanted was to be warm, nodding blindly to whatever Ren said to do. 

Plug your phone in, check. 

Let him talk to your mom, check. 

Draw a bath for you, check. 

Climb in the bath with you, double-check. 

It wasn’t until you were defrosted in the clawfoot tub that you realized you were naked with him. 

Rens chest against your back, holding you like his life depended on it. Judging by his shaking, you both were probably suffering from acute hypothermia. You had been silent for so long your voice spooked him a little, “Thank you.” 

He hummed into your hair, which was sitting on top of your head in a messy bun. “Are you okay?” 

You nodded slowly, “Can we go lay down?” 

“Yeah,” Ren hastily got out of the tub, draining it and wrapping you in plush towels. You were still too cold to blush from your nakedness, not how you pictured this going. You imagined you would finally give into him on some drunken party night, barely remembering his reaction to seeing you nude. 

But now he had seen you half-frozen, forced to cradle you back to life. 

------

You squinted from your cocoon, greeted by a dimly lit room. 

One spare lamp on a dingy-looking nightstand, well it wasn’t terrible. It was better than your nightstand in your dorm room… where was your dorm room anyway? 

Something vibrated behind you, followed by a heavyweight sprawling against your back. 

You held your breath, you were in a hotel. 

With a stranger. 

“Shit,” you whispered. 

Okay, you could wiggle out of here. You took a moment to study the room, there was the lamp from before, and some curtains on a metal rod in the far corner. If you managed to get out without being detected you could knock out the assailant. 

“You smell so good.” 

More weight settled on you, now you were trapped. This bear was closing in, who knows what happened while you were asleep! All you could remember was falling asleep at your dorm after the upsetting trip to the airport, then being dragged away. 

Your fingers burning when you tried to use them, being shoved in a car… 

Kylo. 

“Kylo?!” 

“Mhm.” 

You threw your arms up, successfully throwing him off you and the covers. Your limbs screaming at the sudden movement, you were still suffering from the cold. Next to you, curled in a ball, totally catlike, was Ren. 

A sleepy smile gracing his lips, hands curled under his cheek, and legs moving towards his chest, Like a child under a blanket. You gasped when you saw he was naked, “Fuck!” 

You were too. 

“What the fuck, Ren!?” 

“Stop yelling,” you watched his hand bat his nose like an animal, “Come back, you were warm.” 

You huffed, flailing off the bed in search of your bags. 

Memories flooding back to you, he took you here after saving your life. 

The bath. 

Ugh, bad time to remember your kiss the night before. 

Ren sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes and blinking slowly. You flushed red when you looked between his legs, shit. How does he walk around with that? Is that why he has bad posture? You choked on your spit when he spread his legs out. 

Sprawling completely on the mattress like he wasn’t in a room with a stranger. 

“Snow hasn’t stopped,” Ren yawned, snapping a hand and pointing between his legs, “Come back.” 

“I’m not doing anything until you have clothes on.” 

He rolled his eyes, now looking you up and down. Focusing on your bare tits, swinging around with your erratic movements. You watched him lick his lips, wagging his eyebrows, “Come on, don’t you want to sit back on the bed?”

You shook your head, crouching down to your bag. Trying to not flash him more of your goods, but that didn’t work. Not with him leaning to the side of the bed to make a show of him peeping on you. 

A wolfish grin splitting his face, “You have a nice ass.” 

“Can you stop,” you huffed, tugging on some sweats you found. 

Ren made a pouting noise when you stood, pushing his bottom lip out while you threaded your arms through a t-shirt. You shivered a little-it was still freezing in the room. Probably from the weather, it sounded like it got worse… hopefully this place would keep power. 

You looked back at the bed, Ren was still manspreading. One of his large paws crawling towards his cock, watching you with the same smirk. He let out a soft sigh when he touched himself, eyes momentarily shutting in bliss. 

“Do you have to do that with me here?” 

He cracked an eye open, “Do you have to be that far away?” 

You scoffed, moving to the corner of the room. Shivering since you were near the window, you plopped down in the cheap armchair. Ignoring the sounds of his fist gliding along his cock, you tucked your feet under your body. Humming a tune to ignore the arousal growing between your legs, there was no way you were caving to him. 

What kind of man does that with a complete stranger present!? 

More importantly, why was it turning you on? 

“Come here,” he whistled, you spared a glance at him. Blushing profusely at the sight, his cock was now fully erect. Standing tall and proud, tip flushed almost purple from want. You quickly looked away, trying to swallow down the drool that gathered in your mouth. 

What would happen if you gave in? 

Not like it would hurt you… he looked so delicious. 

“If I come over there, what's gonna happen,” you whispered, determined to stay put.

With a deep breath, the mattress groaned under his weight, probably leaning back to get comfortable. He seemed to love you being there, watching him, or trying not to. Ren made a small non-committal scoff, “Whatever you want to happen, baby.” 

“Don’t call me that, you know my name.” 

“Meow.” 

Your head snapped towards him, met with his grin. “Come on-you really want me to do this by myself?” he waved his cock, fist tight around the base. You rolled your eyes, training your eyes to focus on the least attractive part about him. 

You were coming up empty, all you could stare at was his cock. 

The prominent vein along the underside thrumming in time with his heartbeat. You could practically feel it along your tongue, rigid and stiff. Slowly, you stood from the chair, met with a soft whine from Ren. Eying your hungrily as you sauntered over, you planted a knee in the mattress. 

Between his legs, which were spread obscenely wide, he licked his lips in anticipation. 

“If I help you, are you going to be nicer to me?” 

He nodded, chest taking in sharp breaths. You slowly leaned back on your heels, stripping your top off, despite him seeing you naked earlier. Surprised when he bit his bottom lip, watching you play with your tits, rolling them in the palm of your hand. Just to make him squirm a bit, “I’ll be nicer, whatever you want.” 

“I’m really cold still,” you spoke softly, making sure to lean in close enough to graze his lips with your own before pulling away, “Can you help warm me up?” 

“Yes,” Ren's hands shot out, kneading your flesh a few times. Debating to grasp your tits or the small of your waist, like a kid in a candy store. So many options, but you didn’t want to wait. If you were doing this, it would be about you.

“Eat me out.” 

He stilled, cocking a brow, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me,” you exhaled on his neck, being sure to drag your kitty claws along his chest. Briefly grazing his nipples, savoring the way he gasped. “Eat me out, if you make me cum, I’ll let you fuck me. Like the desperate slut you are.” 

Ren scowled for a moment, nudging your face from his neck. Eyes dancing across your face before capturing your lips, moaning softly in your mouth, “I can make you cum so hard you’ll never want another man again.” 

You placed a soft kiss, rolling onto your back dramatically. Splaying your legs wide, “If that's true, why do you fuck a different girl every week?” 

He growled at you, actually growled. 

Hands no longer soft in their quest to memorize your skin, instead Ren pinned your legs hard enough for them to pop. Making you squeal from the stretch, “How fast do you think I can make you cum? Hm?” 

Before you could answer, he dove in. 

Lips wrapping around your clit and suckling fast, tongue flicking out every few seconds. You were already bucking up to meet him, but his firm hold kept you flush. While his tongue began to lap thick stripes along the seam of your pussy. Briefly hooking the tip into your entrance, both of you moaning when he tasted your wetness. 

“Shit-Kylo!” 

“Mm,” his voice vibrated against your clit, continuing his assault until you choked on your spit. You buried your fingers in his hair, keeping him in that right spot. “I’m so fucking close,” you cried out, pleading his name over and over and over. 

“You know,” he popped off, smacking his lips that were glistening with your cum, “I’d rather you cum on my cock.” 

“Wait-” 

Ren flipped you onto your chest, yanking your hips into the air. You barely had time to take a breath before he shoved his cock inside you. His breath hitched as he sank to the hilt, you groaned at the stretch. Now this, this you could get used to.

He pulled out slowly, you heard him swear under his breath. Leaving just the tip of his cock inside and ramming his hips into yours. Pulling a loud scream from your lungs, Ren chuckled at that. Pumping his cock at a rough pace, “Shh-you’re going to upset our neighbors.” 

You huffed, cheap shot, angling your hips a little so his cock would rub up against your front wall. Moaning when he picked up the pace, skin slapping skin. Ren leaned over your form, planting a hand on the headboard to keep it from knocking. You weakly lifted your head, clenching at the sight of his knuckles turning white. 

All you could do was sit and take it, revealing in the bliss you’d denied yourself for four months. 

-------

Ren dropped you both off at the airport two days later. 

You spent three days together, fucking each other's brains out. 

Choking on his cock while he was brushing his teeth, eating you out while you read through your newsfeed. Bouncing on his cock while he fed you breakfast, you didn’t need to change clothes the entire vacation. 

But you wanted to go home and were thankful for the storm ending so you could head home. It was a little awkward, Ren wasn’t very excited about the snow stopping. It felt like he was trying to stall you leaving but reluctantly listened to your desire to fly home. 

“Got everything?” he mumbled, hitching his backpack over his shoulder. The two of you were waiting in the TSA line, about to part ways to head home. You nodded, giving him a tight smile before stepping up on your own. 

Ignoring the feeling of his eyes on the back of your head. 

Both of you stood awkwardly after making it through, “Well-my gates over here,” you pointed behind you. Ren hummed in acknowledgment, kicking at the ground instead of looking at you. 

“Thanks for letting me crash with you,” you tried again, still nothing. 

You groaned, spinning on your heel. Back to being an asshole, you were kicking yourself for thinking he would be nicer. All he wanted was some pussy, and you willingly gave into him when you should’ve remained strong. 

Your parents picked you up back at home, lots of tears and laughs were shared. Thankful that you made it home without freezing, your mom was grateful for your friend who saved your life. She wanted to call him and tell him how much she appreciated it but you shrugged it off, he was just being nice. He wasn’t your boyfriend or anything, you left out the part that he was the neighbor you always complained about. 

Collapsing on your bed felt surreal like you would wake up and be back in the hotel room at any moment. It was odd not sleeping next to him, you had grown accustomed to his clingy arms. Circling you in the middle of the night when he thought you were dead asleep, smelling your hair before tucking you into his naked chest. 

You tossed and turned all night, groaning when you were woken by your siblings to get up the next morning. Barely sleeping a wink, you resolved to take a nap later to try and not spoil your trip back home. 

At breakfast, your mom yelled at you from the kitchen. 

“Hey hon, someone’s calling you!” 

“Just answer it,” you groaned through a mouthful of cereal. Briefly hearing your mother answer in a typical chipper tone, stalling mid-sentence before she yelled again, “It’s someone named Kyle?” 

Shit, you shot to the kitchen. 

Snatching the phone and escaping to the living room where no one was hiding. 

“Kylo?” 

Hey, didn’t think you’d answer.

“How’d you get my number?” 

Took it while you were napping the other day, I knew you wouldn’t give it to me willingly.

You rolled your eyes, “Alright creeper, what’s up?” 

Just wanted to talk or whatever, felt weird not to. 

Silence. 

Are you gonna let me buy you coffee when we are back?

“You were being serious about that?” 

A scoff. 

Yeah-or we could just fuck again if that’s all you want from this. 

“Coffee sounds good.” 

Cool. Cool. 

It’s a date. 

-------

TAGGING: @finn-ray-nal-beads @onlykyloscenes @candycanes19 @historyandfandoms50 @caelum-phyriina-vermillon @ghoulian13 @mrs-kylo-ren @millenialcatlady @relationshipwithmybed @dancingmicrobes @wayward-rose  @contesa-lui-alucard @daydreamsofren @insufferablelust @ohdamnadamm @mariesackler @caillea @safarigirlsp @jalexunderthestars @shesakillerkween @glassythoughts @zimmermansbrat @not-the-teen-witch @jynzandtonic @roanniom @celestiasin @glassbxttless @cornmousequeen @driversmutbucket @blowthatpieceofjunk

[thelowlysatsuma]

y’all know what? fuck it. time for headcanons

so. SO. logan, patton, and janus being the Tired Adult Friends

they are. so fucking tired

they have two brain cells that they share between the three of them in order to keep the other sides in line. patton is least often seen in possession of them, but sometimes he’ll show up with them in hand

they do “boring adult shit” for fun like go drink wine together and talk shit about the others

they’ve each had turns having to stop the other two from getting too into something and doing something monumentally stupid. janus had to stop a sleepless marathon of sherlock holmes audiobooks. patton had to disarm MANY dangerous thought experiments. logan had to prevent the great puppy heist of 2020.

the all listen to the adventure zone together. logan and janus take turns awkwardly reassuring patton when the swearing/innuendos get too much. they all get a little weepy over lucretia. patton dresses up as magnus one day and forces the other two to cosplay with him. they go as john (jan goes ALL OUT with the eye imagery) and barry (logan allegedly didn’t wanna put in the effort, but actually did some very convincing skull makeup) respectively.

they have a group chat and all silently judge each others’ texting styles

patton: check out this cool meme I saw on Facebook!

janus, looking into the camera like he’s on the office before checking out the meme he’s seen 17272818272828 times before: you’re doing amazing, sweetie; I love it

PRANK WARS!!!! but lovingly!!!

patton and logan fill janus’ room with cats. logan denies being a part of the scheme, but he was VERY excited about it. janus walks into the common room covered in cat hair and ready to murder

logan and janus bonding over art theory and shit talking famous artists

logan and janus are science buddies!! it is terrifying! do not let these two be alone together because they will Wreak Havoc!

patton: *sticks up for someone who’s hurt*

logan: 👀👀👀👀👀😳

janus: 🙄

logan walks into a room and patton starts gushing abt how happy he is to see him and janus is done with this sappy feelings bullshit so he says “wow, glad to see you too, friends of mine” and patton immediately Pouts and does puppy dog eyes and goes in for a hug

*distant explosions* *roman screaming*

logan and janus, in unison: not it

any time patton understands or references a dirty joke/swear word, janus puts a quarter in a jar. it’s half full, but nobody will ever believe him

i would say cuddle piles, but knowing these three dipshits it’s more likely that logan passed out annotating papers on the couch, patton fell asleep beside logan waiting for him to wake back up so he could say hi, and janus just flopped down on top of both of them because he honestly doesn’t give a shit anymore

they do just. the most ridiculous competitions together. patton gets a visitor’s pass to the imagination so he can whip up a wipeout course for them. logan makes them games of jeopardy. janus hosts EXCELLENT murder mystery parties

patton may be bad at most board and card games, but if you try to beat him in uno, you will face death in the face. janus finds this hilarious up until it gets turned on him

in their group chat, patton will yell at the others for being up late, in spite of the fact that he himself is also up late

okay but if you think they don’t gossip about stupid fictional crushes together then You Are Wrong

janus is just as touchy feeley as patton, but he leans more towards arms around shoulders and back claps than hugs

patton, entering the common room, hands dripping red:

janus: oh my god he finally killed somebody

logan: absolutely not. the consistency is all wrong for blood. he stuck his hands in a bucket of kool aid

patton, who’d just returned from helping dye roman’s hair: guys, could you lighten up a little?

patton and janus cry together at 3am over that one time a cornsnake curled around thomas’ arm and it was very cute.

logan and janus shit talk discrepancies in popular media, especially doctor who. patton is generally just there for the good shows and the snacks.

janus: shut up, fives. a ten is talking.

logan: we all have the same face???

god save anyone on the receiving end of the combined powers of patton’s “i’m not mad, I’m just disappointed”, logan’s “explain what exactly you think you’re doing right now”, and janus’ “why are you like this you dumbass” glares

patton makes them friendship bracelets. logan and janus both hide theirs on their person but patton knows they keep them with them at all times

patton tries to convince the entire mindscape to go as the scoobies for halloween one year. he and janus divide and conquer with the core four and the others, and together, they manage to pull it off. remus is a truly horrifying scrappy doo

logan goes through a pirate kick for a little bit and teaches the other two how to duel. patton is surprisingly good at it, and logan dies a bit inside. janus thinks all this is fucking hysterical, and appreciates it immensely

they play calvinball together once. only once.

“sincerely meeeeeeEEEEEEE” “siNCERELY MEE”

yeah don’t even get started on all the musicals they do karaoke of. logan and janus insist it was patton’s idea, which it was, but they’re filthy liars who have just as much fun as patton

janus: *turns on anaconda*

logan: *plays phantom of the opera along to it*

when they get bored they just lie on top of one another, throw wads of paper at the walls of the commons, and play word association games

they fuckin Jam Out to schoolhouse rock. don’t tell me they wouldn’t

anyways I’m back on my sanders sides bullshit, y’all. please feel free to throw some more headcanons out there

( @coconut-cluster : 👀👀👀)

[textsfromthefifthbasement]

I finally finished MAZM: Phantom of the Opera! I’m leaving the review under the cut because it’s long and also spoilers for some elements of the game that aren’t in other Phantom adaptations.

General

First off, I loved the art style of the game. The character designs were quite adorable, and it definitely seemed like they made an effort to follow the original Leroux character designs. They had a blonde Christine and an olive-skinned, dark-haired Meg. I also thought they did a great job with Erik’s character design (though there was too much hair). The sets were beautiful. The majority of the main plot of the game does follow the Leroux book, which I really appreciated. There were some favorite moments in the book that I wish had been incorporated, such as Raoul waking up to find Erik watching him sleep (don’t judge I just find it freaking hilarious), but they incorporated so many other small scenes from the book, such as the managers trying to prevent Erik from taking his salary by using the safety pin. As a history nerd, I also really appreciated the collectible notes giving historical context to some of the discussions, including about three notes on the Paris Commune/Bloody Week. I wished the characters would have had different outfits rather than wear the same outfit the entire story. At the very least, I wished they had made a Red Death outfit for Erik during the masquerade.

I also want to point out and give a warning to anyone who has suicide ideation before they try this game. Pretty early on in the story, you play an episode in which you control Joseph Buquet after he’s dropped into Erik’s torture chamber, and eventually, you have to walk to the noose and pick it. The scene cuts right before he hangs himself. About partway through the story, when you control Christine, there’s a scene in which she has to talk Erik out of killing himself with a shard from a broken vase. At the end, when Christine and Raoul go down to Erik’s house to bury him, they found that he had committed suicide.

In all, I spent about 23 hours on the game from start to finish. I still need to go back and replay a few episodes to complete the achievements. I missed quite a few of the historical notes, and there are parts where you can make different decisions to influence what happens.

In this game, the studio added a lot of subplots that didn’t exist in the book and expanded on some canonical subplots as well. I did enjoy quite a few of these.

The Dancers

Meg, Jammes, and Sorelli are all major characters in the game, and I loved seeing them have more characterization and actual character arcs. Jammes, as a character, doesn’t change as much as the others, but she is only a child. As in the book, she is pretty frightened of ghost stories, strangers, and the Phantom, but in the game, she also loves and takes care of the stray cats living around the opera house and does turn into a bit of a spitfire when her friends are threatened by the various happenings at the opera. Sorelli has a knife and is not afraid to use it, and she comes to realize that her fear of being alone led her to stay with Philippe de Chagny in spite of the fact that he would never officially acknowledge her. Meg, in the beginning, seems afraid of her own shadow, but throughout the game, definitely comes into her own and also develops a much healthier relationship with her mother.

Union

This had to be hands-down my favorite subplot of the game. In the beginning, when Moncharmin and Richard first become the managers of the Palais Garnier, they mistreat Christine and mass fire anyone who mentions the Phantom of the Opera. When Christine goes missing for several weeks, Meg, Sorelli, and Jammes finally decide they have had enough and basically unionize the ballet dancers. There’s an entire protest, a performance in which the ballerinas refuse to perform, and they end up getting a promise from the managers to stop indiscriminately firing and mistreating people.

Christine’s Ending

GUYS. When I joked about Christine just traveling the world and performing instead I had no idea that was an actual choice you can make for her. It’s such a bittersweet ending, but I personally hope that one day she would have emotionally healed enough from her ordeal to come back to Paris and reunite with her old friends.

That being said, there were also a lot of additions/changes that I…really wasn’t a fan of.

Melek

So, for context. During Christine’s first stay at Erik’s house, she decides to do some exploring while he’s gone. While in his room, she hears a woman’s voice behind a wall and goes to investigate. She discovers a hidden door, and behind that hidden door is Melek. We find that Melek is a blind Turkish woman who had been one of Erik’s servants during his time in Constantinople. She had refused to marry him, and so he had kidnapped her and had kept her locked in that room for ten years.

Yes, I have a lot of problems with this.

I think the first thing is that when Melek was introduced is when I really realized that the game was never going to go in the direction of presenting Erik as a character who was sympathetic at times and not so much at others. The game had already painted him as a very unsympathetic character up until then through showing how he had gaslit Christine as the Angel of Music. Introducing Melek really drove that point home, which was kind of disappointing seeing as how the literal point of Leroux’s Le Fantome de l’Opera was that we should pity Erik for how he was treated because of his face.

Additionally, Melek’s character just…didn’t do anything. The more she was around, the more I wondered what the point of her character was. She does offer Christine support half of the time, and then the other half of the time is her being upset because Christine wants to change Erik rather than murder him. Ultimately, it’s my point of view that her character was not a great addition to the game and would have preferred a closer adherence to the book in that regard.

Hatim and PTSD

*sigh* This part seriously pissed me off. While Raoul and Hatim (the Daroga) are in the torture chamber, Hatim tells Raoul the story between him and Erik. We end up playing through a flashback of when Hatim discovers Erik living at the opera house ten years ago. As they discuss their past, we and Hatim quickly realize that Erik has PTSD, and mentioning the Shah of Persia is a serious trigger for him. Which, alright. That does make some sense story-wise.

And then through other flashbacks, Hatim proceeds to use this against Erik. Like he literally would trigger him purposefully as a punishment. And say that he was doing it for his own good.

Like, excuse me, but. What the fuck. What. The actual. Fuck. No. Don’t ever do that, that’s shitty.

Anyways by the end I was legitimately rooting for Erik to punt him.

Erik’s Ending

In the original Leroux novel, Erik presents Christine with a choice: turn the scorpion, and she will marry him, or turn the grasshopper, and the entire opera house will blow up. Christine chooses the scorpion, kisses him on the forehead, and he is so overwhelmed by the action that he saves Raoul’s life and lets them go together. The only promise he extracts from Christine is that she will come back and bury him when he dies, which he believes will be soon. Two weeks later, an ad runs in the newspaper that reads simply, “Erik is dead.”

Yeah. The game really went off the rails here in respect to following the Leroux book. After Christine turns the scorpion, Erik pulls Raoul into the lake and leaves him there, thinking he’ll drown or freeze to death, and then returns to force the marriage. He does eventually let Christine and Melek go, as Christine tells him that she will never love him and that she believes he is a monster, all while he is on his knees begging her just to love him a little. There is no forehead kiss. To the end, Erik writes and tells Hatim that Christine is the devil, and that she abandoned him in hell and wants her to suffer for the rest of her life knowing what she did to him. Yeah, I wish I was making that up.

There is one point where Christine tells Erik it’s not her job to save him. Which I agree with. I feel like whoever wrote the story had a misunderstanding of the ending of the book, or else thought the idea wasn’t explicitly stated enough. The forehead kiss does, in some respect, save Erik. It makes him realize how badly he’s treated everyone and yet Christine is still willing to extend kindness towards him. But it’s not Christine saving him, it’s him coming to that realization on his own. Ultimately, the game traded that idea for a way more heavy-handed “I am not here to save you, I am going to make my own decisions from here on.”

And then, in the face of all that, we’re also missing Erik changing and redeeming himself despite the fact that he’s close to death. Instead, he dies while leaving basically a suicide note to Hatim saying that Christine is the devil and he made her promise to return to bury him to hurt her. Which is so out of character if we look at the book characterization.

Like I knew I was signing up to get my heart ripped out, I just figured it was going to maybe be the brand of Christine having to choose whether or not to stay while Erik dies. And damnit, I just wanted a single forehead kiss.

Anyways, I really enjoyed the game up until the ending. I just seriously disliked the ending for the most part. If you’re more of a fan of the idea of Christine being on her own and finding her own path, that is an enjoyable option to go with. I still need to play through that episode with the marry Raoul choice and see what happens with that option though.

[teawaffles]

There's No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 1

T/N: Takes place after the Phantom of Whitechapel arc (Chapters 25-29 of the manga).

Where there is light, there is shadow. Behind Britain’s glorious prosperity, lay a dark side.

In the capital of the British Empire, one place that embodied these disparities was situated to the east of the City: a slum called the East End. [1]

Here, the buildings were densely packed due to poor urban planning. Complicated alleyways crossed one another like the mesh of a net, serving as prime hideouts for criminals. For better or for worse, its residents were full of raw vitality, and prostitution and barbarity were rife.

In the East End district of Whitechapel, situated northeast from the Tower of London, walked a lone woman—— no, a man.

He had a slender physique, and his shining golden hair added a vivid colour to the grey city streets. With a mole under his eye, and a smile overflowing with confidence, he was a charmingly exquisite beauty.

This man — James Bond — walked forward with grace, paying no heed to the dangerous atmosphere around him.

When they had visited Whitechapel during the Jack the Ripper incident, Bond had heard that William’s birthplace was somewhere nearby. With the incident resolved, in order to understand William��s character better, Bond was now exploring the slum alone.

However, contrary to his dignified steps, a vague depression bloomed deep in his heart.

——As expected, with at least ten years having come and gone, it seemed that nothing related to Will-kun was left……

Bond had carefully searched the district. He even visited the place where a book rental shop once stood; William mentioned he’d lived there with Louis, but just as Moran said, it had already gone out of business.

Dusk was beginning to fall, and he had no more leads to follow regarding William’s past. Dejected, Bond headed towards the main street to make his way back.

“……Oh?”

As he passed by a small, vacant plot, Bond saw something curious.

In the middle of the square were a few young children surrounding a single red-haired girl. Thinking that he’d stumbled onto an incident of bullying, Bond drew nearer to stop them. But as he did so, the girl in the middle spoke up with vigour.

“That’s right. Today’s New Year’s Eve.”

She said so while rubbing her hands together, as if she were in the scene of a play. “Ssh—,” she murmured, then mimed the action of picking something up with her fingertips, and raised that hand into the air.

Going along with the flow, the other children around her each began to make their own strange movements. “Bwoo— bwoo—,” one hummed as they waved their hands above their head, while another went “Honk— honk—” as they flapped both arms like wings.

Watching from the side, this could be seen as a mysterious game played within the unique worldview of a child, but Bond continued to stand there and watch the children’s movements with fascination.

These actions could only be from “The Little Match Girl”.

The girl in the middle of the plot was the matchstick seller, the main character. Then the other children were the visions she saw within the flames of the matches she lit. In other words, they were acting out one of Hans Christian Andersen’s famous fairy tales.

A performance—— In that instant, something from his past began to stir up within him.

James Bond had formerly been Irene Adler, a renowned actress who was also a member of the Warsaw Imperial Opera. However, he had stolen secret documents which would have shaken the country to its core. With his life threatened by the British government, it was then that William and the others had rescued him. After which, he became agent number seven of MI6, and joined the Moriarty brothers’ cause.

Now for all intents and purposes, the woman known as Irene Adler was dead. It then stood to reason that he had stopped his acting work as well. However, even as he pushed forward with his undercover missions, he never once forgot the passion he had for the stage.

The children’s play had piqued Bond’s curiosity, and he was watching on with a smile when they seemed to notice his gaze.

“……Mister, can we help you?”

The girl who acted as the matchstick seller directed her question to Bond. Hearing that, the other children stopped their movements and looked in his direction as well.

He was a little flustered by the unexpected attention, but maintained a mild expression as he apologised.

“Sorry. It seemed interesting, so I couldn’t help but watch. Was that ‘The Little Match Girl’?”

“Yeah, that’s right. But how did you know?”

“I was watching your actions.”

Then Bond pointed to each of the children in turn.

“You would be the main character, the little girl. Then you were the iron stove that appeared in her first vision. You were the delicious goose from her next vision. And you were her grandmother, from her last——“

Bond named each and every one of their roles correctly, and the children beamed.

“That’s amazing! Are you a detective?”

“Detective……”

That word brought to mind a certain man whom he was indebted to.

Bond chuckled. “No, I’m employed at a certain mansion. I was just passing through while on a quick errand.”

“Hmm—”

Without particularly doubting his answer, the girl continued.

“Hey, mister. What did you think of our act?”

Bond pondered over his response. Since they were children, one should probably just give some suitable praise and end it there. But his pride and love for acting which once allowed him to reach the rank of prima donna took over, and the words spilled out.

“It was a splendid performance. ……But I think it would be even better with a little more expression.”

“Ex—pres—sion?”

The girl made a puzzled face, and Bond knelt down to meet her eyes.

“For example, at the start, you wanted to show that you were ‘cold’, yes? You did well back there, but to show that you are cold, you wouldn’t just rub your palms together, ……”

He paused mid-sentence, then made his shoulders shake as he rubbed both palms together, blowing on them as if to warm them up. Somehow, it seemed as though even the colour of his face had changed — a realistic impression of being ‘cold’.

At his exquisite acting with the skill of a former actress, the children began to clap in unison.

“Wow mister, you were amazing!”

Bond took a small bow as he was bathed in applause.

“By learning how to do a few tricks like this, you can make your performances even more entertaining.”

“I get it — can you do any more?” asked one of the children. He nodded readily, then made his hands into the shape of small wings and imitated the sound of a goose honking. The quality of his voice could have easily be mistaken for that of a bird, and the children were once again astonished.

“That’s a goose!” They clapped their hands in glee, requesting other impersonations as well.

Bond humoured every one of them. Without realising it, he had gone from appreciating the children’s make-believe play, to joining in and becoming the centre of attention. But while he was delighted to entertain them, their surroundings were beginning to grow dark, and he was now thinking of hurrying them home.

Just then, the girl who had spoken up at first pointed outside the vacant plot.

“Ah, onee-chan!” she exclaimed, waving her arms vigorously.

Bond turned to look in that direction. There, stood a young woman with a look of disbelief on her face.

She came back to herself as soon as Bond turned around, then rushed over to the children. The girl ran over and hugged the young woman’s knees.

“Onee-chan, welcome back.”

“I’m back, Mae,” she said to the girl with a smile.

Then, she turned fearful eyes towards Bond. The young woman’s chestnut-coloured hair had been tied back; and although she seemed to have a dark atmosphere surrounding her, her features were clean-cut. She appeared not too far removed in age from him.

“Um…… and you would be?”

“Ah, my name is Bond. James Bond,” he introduced himself simply.

“Uh, Mr… Bond?”

But her reaction was slow. Her understanding of the situation definitely had yet to catch up, he thought. A handsome young man playing with children on a dimly-lit vacant plot — indeed, the scene before her was baffling.

Even so, she didn’t seem to be giving off any sense of suspicion or alarm. Just as Bond was beginning to think it strange, she hurriedly bowed her head.

“S—Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I—I’m her sister. My name is Maya.”

“Miss Maya, I see. Pleasure to meet you…… or rather, I’m sure you must’ve been confused to find your sister playing with a stranger. To start off, I would like to sincerely apologise for that.”

Saying that, Bond also bowed his head. He then explained the series of events to Maya, who was bemused by his friendly yet gentlemanly manner.

“——And that’s how Mae and the others invited me to join them.”

“And he’s really good at doing impressions!” boasted one child. Then, along with the other children, they started imitating the voices of the people and animals that Bond had showed them. He’d initially wanted to teach them about acting, but as they went along, the lesson had somehow morphed into a demonstration of mimicry. Well, as long as they had fun, he had no qualms about that.

Maya studied his face as she asked him a question.

“U—um…… Actually, I’d been watching your performance for some time earlier, Mr Bond…… Um, perhaps, you have worked in theatre in the past?”

“Uh……”

For a moment, Bond was lost for words, but he gave a roundabout answer to avoid revealing his true identity.

“That’s not too far from the truth. Well, you could say that I have a personal opinion when it comes to acting.”

“I—I see,” she replied automatically. Her gaze wandered restlessly before she spoke up again, in a cautious tone.

“Um…… Mr Bond. A—Actually I’m, part of a small, theatrical company, with some friends.”

“Really? So you’re an actor too, Maya.”

“Yes, and it really pains me that, you were asked to do impressions so crassly, upon our first meeting, but having seen your acting skills, um, I’d like to ask a big favour from you.”

“……A favour?”

Maya paused for a beat.

“We will soon be putting on a play at a big theatre, s-s—so we would be grateful, if you could watch our rehearsal, Mr Bond,” she said, as if she’d made up her mind.

Then she quickly bowed her head.

“Watch, your rehearsal? Me?”

Bond pointed to himself, surprised at the sudden request. Looking apologetic, Maya continued.

“We’ve been practising as much as we’ve could; but we’re a small theatre company that could close down at any moment, and we’ve never performed at such a large venue before…… With your knowledge of acting, Mr Bond, if you could appraise our performance…… and, if possible, give us some advice…”

“I see,” Bond understood.

According to the Theatres Act of 1843, ‘theatres’ in Great Britain were places where plays could be put up under the purview of the Lord Chamberlain. Moreover, in order to perform certain genres of work, the script had to be submitted for review, and approval had to be obtained.

However, owing to a loophole in the legal system, plays could avoid censorship if they incorporated music. Hence, a good number of informal theatres operated in this manner. In addition, as their audience was mostly comprised of laypeople from the working classes, many of these theatres performed the type of song-and-dance spectacle popular with such a crowd.

From the way Maya talked about her company, he gathered that they had probably been performing musical numbers at unregulated venues like these as well. Hence they had no experience staging an actual play at an officially-licensed theatre, and that was why they were asking him to evaluate their performance.

Having grasped her situation, Bond asked a question that had been niggling at him.

“Just out of curiosity, your theatre company should have a director, right? Wouldn’t they be offended if I were to come in?”

“I’m taking on the direction of the play. B—By the way, I’m also the chairperson.”

Bond was rather surprised at what she said. In truth, it didn’t occur to him that such a timid and seemingly weak-willed person would be in charge of a theatrical company, even if it was a small one.

However, although Maya had tended to keep her eyes downcast throughout, they betrayed no doubt. From that, Bond knew her request was genuine.

“Um…… I suppose it is too much to ask?” she enquired, in a fearful tone.

“——Alright.”

“Wha?”

She had not expected him to agree so easily.

“I’ll take on your request. I’m partly self-taught, but if it’s alright with you, I would love to watch you and your company perform.”

Maya immediately perked up and bowed her head, speaking loudly for the first time.

“T—Thank you so much!” she cried, jumping for joy along with the other children.

Footnotes:

[1] The City refers to the City of London, which is the historic centre of modern London (Wikipedia)

T/Ns:

The sisters’ names could equally have been Maia and May respectively, but I chose Maya as I think it reads better, and Mae to differentiate the two of them more easily.

I had to use onee-chan since Maya specifically introduces herself by name later on.

[glassprism]

Here's a neat hypothetical I've never seen asked before, what you do think would have played out if Madam Giry followed Raoul all the way down to the lair instead of just partway? AKA how do you think the Phantom would react? I kinda wanna also ask "what do you think would happen if Carlotta followed Raoul down instead" just for comical reasons but the first one if my more serious question!

I think to some extent it depends on the portrayal and the version? I mean, clearly we’re talking about the musical here (I can’t see Leroux’s Madame Giry following Raoul; for one thing, she’s not the one with info to the Phantom’s lair), but even within that, we get some startling variations.

If we go with solely the musical’s Madame Giry, the little we know of her is that she seems to be aiding the Phantom more out of fear than any loyalty (”And there have been too many accidents!”). She did see the Phantom on display, but she didn’t aid him, nor does she have a particularly strong, motherly bond with Christine compared to other versions (more on that later). Musical Madame Giry seems to be a fairly observant woman who keeps a lot of information to herself (”Then help us!” “I wish I could!”), possibly because she fears that the Phantom will do even worse, until even she has felt he’s gone too far. So I’m not sure she’s the type of person who’d even join Raoul... but if she did, I also don’t know that the Phantom will react that strongly to her, again because we don’t see much of a positive relationship between them. I feel like at most, the Phantom will see her and go, “You! Betrayed me too, huh? Well get out of the way, I have bigger issues right now - like Punjabing this Vicomte!”

It’s a different case with 2004 film Madame Giry and, heck, Phantom of Manhattan Madame Giry. I conflated the two because they both have similar relationships to the Phantom - both helped him escape from the freak show, both helped him hide in the opera house, both seem to be aiding him out of a mixture of pity for his circumstances and respect for his genius. Both also have a stronger motivation for joining Raoul compared to musical Madame Giry -  2004’s Giry has helped raise Christine since she was orphaned while Phantom of Manhattan Giry has strong affection for Raoul, calling him one of her “boys”.

So what would her presence change? IMO it could end up going either way - the Phantom might see her and feel an even stronger sense of betrayal, sending him spiraling further downwards. Or perhaps, between her and Christine, they can get him to calm down and the ‘Final Lair’ will end sooner? But this also depends on them placating Raoul, who might be confused as to why everyone seems intent on treating this murderer and kidnapper of his girlfriend with kid gloves, and whose presence alone might piss off the Phantom more... So I tend to lean towards the first scenario. And while it’s funny to think about and has been the subject of many a joke, I don’t think Madame Giry would actually give the Phantom a motherly smack and go, “Bad Phantom! Bad Opera Ghost! Apologize to the young lady this instance and stop this nonsense!” and end the ‘Final Lair’ in fifteen seconds.

And finally, we might as well discuss Love Never Dies Madame Giry. Oh, LND Giry, what do we do with you? Ostensibly the same character as musical Giry, she’s so different in the sequel that it’s hard to envision a scenario where she’s in the ‘Final Lair’, as we’re extrapolating her character ten years back and trying to make her fit with musical Giry’s actions. Oh, and that’s not taking into account rewrites of her character. But from what we do see, LND Giry seems to care very little about Raoul and Christine and even the Phantom, at least compared to her own interests, though she seems to feel she’s done enough that she deserves more consideration from the Phantom (”We stayed with him. Loved and idolized him!”). On the other hand, she doesn’t exactly do anything other than complain and, you know, tell Meg and send her spiraling into a breakdown, so one wonders just how much action she would take.

Honestly, I don’t even know. Technically, if she went to the lair with Raoul, it should be a similar scenario to musical Giry’s arrival. But LND plasters on completely different motivations for her, and sure, it might be that she’s thinking all these things as justification for spending ten years with the Phantom and not because she actually believed it at the time. But part of me is very amused at having LND Giry in the ‘Final Lair’ and her just, I dunno, shouting at Christine (to the tune of ‘Ten Long Years’), “Don’t choose Raoul! Do not make a new start! Don’t pick beauty and youth over genius and art!” etc.

Now if Carlotta went down with Raoul, full of vengeance for her dead lover Piangi, well, that’s a scenario where the ‘Final Lair’ would definitely be over in five seconds flat. Especially if she goes full Glocklotta.

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [1]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 1.5 OR Chapter 2

➜ Words: 3.3k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

➜ Notes: I’m so excited to finally share this series. I’m pretty satisfied with how it turned out, so get ready for a rollercoaster, y’all.

cr.

The moving truck wakes you.   It’s deafening. You can hear the slow ‘beep, beep, beep’ of the vehicle backing up. With one eye open, you grab your phone to check the time. It’s ten minutes before your alarm.

You begrudgingly rise, getting ready for the day and humming while you brush your teeth to warm up your throat. You change your clothes, then eat cereal in silence at your kitchen counter. Once you’re ready, you leave. But not two steps out your door are you clumsily tripping over a cardboard box.   You make sure not to scream too loudly in case you draw attention. So with a muffled sound and your ankle throbbing at how it was twisted, you stand again.    Someone’s moving in next door.   There are messy boxes littering the hall, the door wide open, and from what you can see inside, the living space is empty. But you don’t dwell, making your own way down the hall to the stairwell.   The timing is poor. By mere seconds, you miss the brunette boy sticking his head out the door with pouty lips and cute eyes, peeking down the hall to catch your retreating form.   You limp to the station and as your shitty luck would have it, the train becomes delayed while you’re squished in the middle cart that’s packed like sweaty sardines. It halts suddenly, everyone jolting and you flinch when someone stomps on your right foot by accident.   There’s no apology.    “Hey, watch it,” the man beside you grumbles and you’re pushed again, at least with your foot free this time and throbbing inside of your worn shoe.   “S-sorry.”   The delay makes you late by the time you arrive in Time Square. You run through the street, shouting more apologies as you dive through the busy crowds and tourist groups. Once you make it to New 42nd Street Studios, you sprint down the stairs to the basement of the building. You nearly trip and tumble downwards to your death, but you catch yourself on the sticky railing.   It’s three minutes past nine o’clock.   “You’re late.”   “I’m sorry.”   “Sorry doesn’t make you earlier.”   The director sighs and rolls his eyes. He turns away from you and claps his hands together, scanning the rest of the bustling crew. “Today’s the day folks! We have dress rehearsal and then the show begins at six sharp! It’s showtime! So let’s get moving. You there, intern, go get coffee. And try not to be late this time.”   “Y-yes, sir.”   Up the stairs you go again. It seems like you’re always running, whether it’s for this job or to this job. But you quickly remind yourself that it’s a privilege to be here. Years ago, you would’ve cried tears of happiness if you knew you’d be on the production team of Phantom of the Opera.   Of course, you would’ve assumed you were performing. But being an intern was good enough. Everyone had to start somewhere.   “Hi, can I get ten americanos, six iced and four hot, three chai tea lattes, four vanilla lattes, three espressos, seven cappuccinos, and a green tea?”   The barista runs the company card into the side of her screen and then her eyes flicker up at you. “Sorry, it keeps saying declined. Do you have another method of payment?”   “O-oh. Sorry about that.” You end up paying out of your own pocket for the drinks. There’s no point in telling the director the company card failed — he’ll find some excuse to pin the blame on you, and it’s a small problem not worth the trouble.   You run back while balancing the plastic bags and cup holders in your hands, trying not to spill any of them. Once arrived, you hand them out to the crew members, actors, and actresses.   “Intern! What’s this?!” The director approaches and sighs. You prepare yourself, already reading that expression on his face. “I said six hot and four iced americanos. You got the order wrong!”   You bow your head. “S-sorry, my apologies.”    “You and your apologies!” His teeth are gritted, face reddened in anger. “Apologies doesn’t make my americano hot does it?!”   “I can go get another one if you need—”   “Don’t waste my time more than you already have.” He waves you off, sighing, and you’re left to drown in the humiliation as the others around you snicker underneath their breaths.    You release the air held in your throat and you narrow your eyes sharply into his backside as he walks away from you. You hold your tongue, reminding yourself that being here is a privilege.   //   The curtains draw.   There’s bated breath held in the audience, a certain sense of anticipation that builds the suspense until everyone’s on the edge of their seats. The lair is shown, mist spiraling on the floor, candles all around. The phantom with his cloak and half-mask sits at the organ.   Christine is enchanted, walking closer towards him slowly like she’s been bewitched by a spell.   The actor recites his lines, and then the music begins.    “Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation.” It’s a baritone voice, rich and seductive, but still sweet. “Darkness wakes and stirs imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses.”    The violin strings pull as if echoing after the voice.   You hold the microphone to your lips, singing and pulling the notes from deep in your stomach. The mic has been moved down several pitches to match the baritone vocal range that you wouldn’t be able to reach on your own, but the tone is rich and believable to be of the actor’s.   After all, one of the biggest efforts the director made was to be able to pull this off.   “.....the darkness of the music of the night.” Your eyes are shut, headphones on and you press the left side closer down to your ear, drowning in the lovely instrumental. “Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be.”   The note is belted out, streaming out from your lips like silk. And when it’s over, you grin. It’s thrilling, a kind of pride blooming inside your chest that’s rare for you to experience. Even if you’ve done it so many times, it never fails to bring you delight — you’re unable to believe that you actually did it.   Once the song is complete, there’s thunderous applause.   A smile spreads into your cheeks, one that’s infectious but no one sees when you’re hidden behind the curtain. And had you been standing on the stage in the spotlight, you might’ve noticed the brunette boy with pouty lips and cute eyes amidst the crowd.   He’s become enraptured by your voice. He’s enchanted, heart stuttering, speechless beyond words. This was the voice he was waiting for. This was it.   The show eventually comes to a close and everyone holds hands to bow to the audience. You peek out from backstage to watch the curtains being brought down.    “Good job everyone. Nice job crew. Taeyeon, beautiful job as Christine once again. You were lovely, darling. Your sound is like melted caramel.” The director continues with his praises, and the other girls playing more minor roles flock to Taeyeon’s side to also shower her with compliments. The whole gathering parade themselves into the dressing room, brushing right past you. “Oh, yes, there’s the star of our show! Kim Seokjin, you never cease to amaze me! Beautiful job as Phantom!”   “Of course.” Seokjin grins, charismatic and charming as always. “You shouldn’t expect any less of me. With a face like this, how could I ever fail?!”   There’s bellowing laughter that rings and pierces your eardrums. “You’re right!”   You wait as they come closer.   Your breath is held. Maybe today, you did a good enough job that he’ll acknowledge you—   But then the director walks past you like you’re a plant. Wallpaper. A backstage prop.   “I loved that emotion you expressed in the final piece. Almost moved me to tears.”   “I tried to do a different interpretation of it this time…” Their voices fade off and you sigh.   You’re envious. Kim Seokjin has a good face. He can act. He can dance. He has stage presence. He’s magnetizing and charming. But he just can’t sing. The man can’t hold a steady note for the life of him. You suspect he’s tone-deaf.    Understandably, the director couldn’t give up on his godly face, so you became his voice. A ghost singer.   It actually works out well. You don't have to be on stage in the spotlight where every single person can scrutinize you, but your voice can be heard. In a way, it’s like you’re performing. But you can still be comfortable. You just wish you were acknowledged. Even if it’s just a little.   You’re suddenly shocked out of your thoughts when one of the crew members hands you a stick, clearing his throat obnoxiously. “Start sweeping.”   You carry the broom and dustpan, beginning to brush away at the confetti that exploded, clearing the floor of dust and dirt. And you end up missing the boy who sneaks himself backstage, who looks around and slips into the shadows.   He walks down the corridor, luckily finding the dressing rooms and he follows the nameplates until he discovers the one that reads ‘Kim Seokjin’.   The boy knocks three times in rapid succession. He puts on his best smile and tries to push the wrinkles out of his suit jacket that’s too small and worn. The door opens. The laughter tapers off.   Jin’s makeup and fake burnt skin have been removed. What’s left is pure godlike genes, and he’s blinded by the older man’s handsomeness, having to resist the urge to shield his eyes.   “Who are you?”   “M-My name is Park Jimin. I’m a fan, I-I absolutely loved your voice on the show.”   “You want an autograph? Of course you do.”   “Who’s that?” the director calls out, lounging on the sofa and drinking a glass of red wine.   “A fan,” Seokjin turns his head to say, and then he grabs a piece of paper. He makes an enormous signature with permanent marker and several loops in his name. Once finished, he slaps it to Jimin’s chest before the younger can even breathe. “Thanks for your support.”   “Wait. Mr. Kim.” Jimin puts his foot between the door before he can shut it. The actor raises his brow and looks at him. “My dream is to be on Broadway. I know this is a lot to ask of you, but can you please mentor me?”   Jin stares at him and then frowns in annoyance. “Mentor you?”   Jimin quickly adds, “I promise I’ll try my best. I am willing to give up anything and learn and you seem to be the best of the best. I haven’t heard such a great baritone voice like yours in so long. Please accept me as your student.”   There’s an extended silence. “Sorry. I don’t accept students.”   “W-wait. Please!”   “Security!” Seokjin shouts outside the door. “Get him out of here!”   Jimin’s shell-shocked, unable to move when his feet are rooted in the ground. His bones have been frozen. The precious image of his idol that he’s created in his own mind for the past two hours has shattered. He’s left in utter shame and disappointment.   “Hey...you’re not allowed to be here!” One of the crew members suddenly points to him.   And then a hand plops down onto his shoulder, a grip firm and intimidating. Jimin looks up to find a stocky security guard, and he sighs. He drags his own legs, shoulders slumped, escorted out.   //   It takes an hour to help the crew clean up. You assist them in sweeping and putting away the props, all while waiting patiently with your eyes pinned on the entrance of the corridor. You dust your hands off, and you’re lucky with your timing.   The director is walking out with his bag slung over his shoulder, jacket over his arm, busy sipping on some warm tea.   “Director Kang!”   You stop right in front of him and he looks at you in boredom. “Why haven’t you gone home yet, intern?”   You’ve been cleaning up the entire time, but you don’t bother telling him in case he tells you that you’re too slow to complete tasks. You’re too preoccupied anyways, catching your breath. It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. “D-Director. I know we’ve talked about this before, b-but I really hope you’ll reconsider the referral.”   He sighs, rolls his eyes, and continues walking. You follow beside him frantically while he pulls out his phone to message someone.    “I think I’ve been trying my hardest at this job and I've been putting in a lot of hours. I’ve thought about what you said and your advice and I feel like I’ve improved in my singing, s-so….please give me a referral to an agent.”   All you need is a referral. One measly call and you can be in touch with someone who could expand their hands and help you. You could finally make a break in the industry, make a debut on Broadway. It’s what you’ve been trying to achieve your entire life. It’s your dream. Your goal. The reason you left everything back and home and came all the way here.   But he’s not paying any attention to your desperate pleas.   “Director?”   He’s irritated — you can tell with the way he huffs out. It makes you flinch, but he at least stops. “Intern, don’t make me repeat myself. You need to focus on what you’re doing now. Frankly, you’re not even good at this insignificant job. How are you supposed to achieve big things?”   “B-But…”    “You can’t take big leaps when you can’t even take small steps yet. You’re not ready. Not yet. If I happen to notice that you’re finally putting in some real effort and some hard grind, then I’ll think about it again. But now’s just not the time.”   “I…” You’re at a loss, on the verge of sobbing.   “Now if you’re finished, I have a call to make.”   He presses his phone to his ear, a universal sign that he’s not continuing the conversation. You watch him get into his car, driving away, and you’re left there on the street in a cloud of his gas exhaust.

Jimin is at a loss.    He paces around in his empty apartment room with still taped boxes scattered everywhere. He doesn’t feel like unpacking and putting away his belongings. Not when his mind was stuck on something else.   He came all the way here to look for a mentor — having followed his community theater director’s instructions to work on his singing. But without a teacher he can’t make his big break.   “What am I going to do now?” he sighs.    Maybe he jumped the gun a little too soon. It was pretty intense of him to go to a show right on the day when he moved in when he probably should’ve gotten settled. But there’s no time to waste when time is of the essence! Maybe he could somehow convince Seokjin to take him as a student. He is pretty insistent and not one to give up just after a single rejection….   Jimin sits on his couch, the only piece of furniture intact in his home, and he folds his hands together. His brows are furrowed, in deep contemplation onto the next step. But then suddenly, he hears a voice.   “—your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams.” It’s coming from the window. Sweet and melodic. Jimin’s captivated and stands on his feet, following the sound as if he was being gently tugged by a red string tied around his finger. “Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before.”   He steps out barefoot onto his chilly balcony. His eyes are fixed on the balcony beside him, the tiny flower beds that are wilting, the warm lights that pour out from inside the home, how the doors are slightly open to welcome a breeze. “Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar!”   He hangs onto the note, relishes in how it stirs his very soul, and then rushes out. “And you'll live as you've never lived before....”   Jimin throws his front door open and then pounds onto the door next to his with his fist.   Three beats. One — two — three. And it opens.   He smiles. Then it falls. His line of sight comes a little lower than expected. He was anticipating a man singing, perhaps someone alike to Seokjin, lean and handsome. But instead, it’s a timid girl in pajamas — you.   “H-hello?” you squeak, nervous.   “H-Hi. I...I just….” He taps his ear, trying to explain himself. “I thought I heard…heard....never mind.” Jimin hitches his thumb over his shoulder and awkwardly tilts his body. “I just moved in.”   “Y-Yeah. I saw this morning.”   “So…it’s-uh-nice to meet you, I guess. I mean I don’t guess because it is great to meet you. I swear I’m not usually like this. What I mean is usually I’m not so direct. And, um, bad at speaking. We’ll be neighbors from now on. So I wanted to say hello, since usually, that’s the polite thing to do. Or at least what my mom tells me. She’s great. My mom. But right, I didn’t even tell you my name. My bad. I’m Park Jimin.”    He extends and opens his hand. Then he realizes it’s idiotic for him to shake hands with you. It wasn’t like this was some sort of business transaction. So Jimin lowers his arm….right when you’re opening your palm.    It’s a missed handshake, and he’s cringing so hard, he’s tempted to jump off the balcony. But instead, he musters up stiff laughter and raises his hand to shake yours. He muses how soft your skin is, but tries not to think about it too much in case that’s a weird thought. Which it is.   God, he’s usually not this nervous. It’s a fucking mess.   Yet, you still offer him a polite smile. “I’m Y/N.”   “Nice name. I mean all names are nice, but yours in particular. Not that I mean anything by it. Like it’s quite normal, but not normal in the sense that it’s overused. Not that overused names are a bad thing.” It’s terribly awkward. That blank stare you’re giving him doesn’t help with his perspiration either. Jimin tries to smile to show that he’s not a freak. But it might also be doing the opposite effect. “Well, I should get going now. Lots to unpack.”   “Okay.”   You’re about to close the door, and he steps away. But in the last second, Jimin spins around before you can seal yourself inside.    “Um, were you playing music?”   You’re silent and you blink at him owlishly. “Sorry, I’ll try to keep it down.”   Jimin nods. It’s not exactly what he meant — he wasn’t complaining. But he doesn’t linger to tell you so. He doesn’t want to make you feel tense and he feels like a creep enough. The last thing that Jimin wants is to be kicked out before he’s even fully settled in for being a complete weirdo.   Typically he’s not this socially inept. But he accepts that he’s made a horrible first impression and shuts the door.   Though as he leans on the smooth surface of it, he quirks his head to one side and his brows furrow. Strange. That voice sounded so familiar. And so tangible as if it were here and not a recording.   But he doesn’t dwell, going on about his night.   In the meanwhile, you try to sing quieter.

[benjisbento]

Hello! I am just a random person who stumbled across your wonderful beautiful art of a Warforged and a Triton in love, and I want to know the story behind it! Please, do tell~

Omg hello there ;v; Sorry it took me a couple days to see this!!!

I guess there are sorta two stories: their canon story, and the story behind the art specifically (which I guess is technically not “canon” lol), which I guess would have to do more with the inspiration behind it

But I will literally yell and cry about these two all day any day tbh

So a bit of backstory, Torin “Squash” Buckler is my triton tempest cleric and B0B is my friend a co-player’s warforged barbarian (I don’t know shit about barb subclasses and honestly have no idea which one he is lmao). We started our campaign in Feb at I think 3rd level with something like ten players split between two groups. Some players played in both groups and had two PCs, and then some players dropped out and we combined into one group with six players, all of whom eventually made second characters so we essentially had two parties (that mixed up every now and then) and it has been WILD (all 12 PCs were together very briefly and hearing other players roleplay with themselves was a fucking delight). They’re all part of a group of mercenaries called the Hedge Knights, who ended up getting control of a small Hold by defeating its ruling lord and are currently trying to stop an apocalypse.

Anyway, Squash is kinda a dick, and pretty early on he learned that he didn’t have to actually walk anywhere if he asked B0B to carry him, because B0B is very nice. They pretty quickly formed a ride-or-die relationship. At one point in their travels, they were up against a paracidic fungus that was killing anything it attached itself to, and that’s when they came upon a wode (which they lovingly called Baby Treant) that was infected. Knowing how dangerous the fungus was, and how low the wode’s chances of survival were, Squash voted to just kill it immediately. B0B defended it (and ultimately found a way to cure it!) and that, surprisingly, was when Squash realized that...oh no... I think I love him? B0B carried the wode around in a baby bjorn for a while, and it eventually made its home at their HQ.

A lot of their initial attraction go each other was made in jest (B0B would smash something really hard and I’d joke that Squash was turned on, or Squash would explode something with lightning and B0B’s player would say the same), but it grew into a fierce mutual protectiveness between the two, to the point that Squash will only really willingly heal B0B (what a shitty cleric!) and B0B will fight anyone on Squash’s behalf.

Their relationship moved to the next stage when B0B went into a solo fight in a gladiator-like arena. Squash produced a matching set of platinum rings as he cast Warding Bond, essentially lessening the damage B0B would take in battle, but also taking on some of that damage himself (and as a squishy cleric, well... that’s a lot!). B0B viciously won that fight, but it was still pretty intense.

They were in a party that explored an underground temple and were trapped down there for a while, B0B finding remains of other warforged but no real hint to his own past. Squash comforted him through that with a patience he showed for no one else, and with empthy that no other party member was able to show.

Their journeys continued and Squash felt called by his deity to destroy a cursed mask one of the other party members carried. B0B had promised fo protect the mask, and Squash didn’t want to make him go against his word, so after a complicated series of events, Squash and the other member left the group together and Squash was able to make his attempt without putting B0B in a tough position. Since the mask was magically linked to the other party member, there was a chance that destroying it would also destroy him, and even knowing this, Squash tried anyway. It didn’t work, but now fearing for his life, the other member fled.

Squash began to curse his deity for sending him on this stupid quest and pulling him away from B0B. He felt that he had spent years asking his deity for purpose, and then once he was beginning to find happiness instead, his deity stripped that away.

While apart, the Squash and B0B had a shared dream, tho how much they realized it was shared is still unclear. In it, Squash weilded the stormy powers of his god and was presented with a figure on a seaside cliff. B0B found himself on top of a cliff, praying for Squash’s protection. Using the powers he had, Squash struck the figure, and B0B was embued with power, somehow eternally bonding their very souls together. Upon waking, many miles apart, they both felt their bond to the other grow, and could even sense the direction in which the other was. In a weird way, they were now married. The first time B0B introduced himself as “B0B Buckler” I shed a legitimate tear.

They’ve been through other trials since, but have been the other’s rock through it all. The party has split and rejoined and every moment spent away from each other has been terrible. Currently in-campaign, they find themselves underground once again, at the sight of the forge believed to be the source of the impending apocalypse, and possibly the source of some answers about B0B’s past.

Through the campaign, they’ve pulled each other out of darkness, and in the event that they don’t survive, I’m confident that they’ll at least go down togethed. Tho the dream is for them to retire from this mercenary life and travel the seas together. Squash was raised as a pirate, but B0B has never even seen the ocean. It’s the life they deserve.

Oh yeah, and Squash 100% has Ceremony prepped so that he can, at some point, offially wed them abd get all the good juicy bonuses. Saving that for before the BBEG tho

The art itself tho is based on the song All I Ask Of You from Phantom of the Opera. And how that inspiration came about it actually a really stupid story. My roommate and I were playing the newest Pokemon SwSh dlc and he made some joke about how one of the new Pokemon had some serious Phantom vibes and I was like “lol ur right” and realized I hadn’t watched or listened go PotO in a while, so I was listening to the soundtrack during my commute to work, and was apparently in an extremely sappy mood, and when that song came up, Squash and B0B were all I could thing about. And while breaking up the lines by which character actually sings them doesn’t quite make sense, there is a lot of both Christine and Raoul in both Squash and B0B and many of the lines could come from either of them. Anyway, I then also rewatched PotO (2004) and based their outfits off Raoul’s and Christine’s during that song. Also in my little PotO universe, Squash’s deity is 100% the Phantom and there was a concept for this with him lurking ominously in the background, but I opted for the lighter, happier version.

So yeah, it doesn’t necessarily depict something that happened in their canon, but the sentiments are there. The running joke in all the art of them together seems to be that Squash’s feet are NEVER on the ground lmao Which is kinda a Crime because they have like a 2+ foot height difference that I LIVE for

Anyway thank you so much for asking and I hope their story is everything you hoped it would be. Sorry if it seems a but disjointed, but retelling bits of D&D campaigns without going into too much un- or semi-related detail is wild lmao

[plush-anon]

after many hours spent pausing the show bc good lord why did they do that, i have now finished Love Never Dies

annnnnd yikes 😬😬😬

I’ll start with the few positives I did enjoy from the recorded Australian production on Youtube:

1.) the camera work. This is the kind of thing I dream of for professionally recorded shows - it really allows for some lovely close-up shots of how the emotions play over their faces, it’s lush

2.) the costumes are well-crafted, and I desperately Want the Phantom’s long-ass swooshy trenchcoat cape thing he wore for the first half-hour 

3.) the sets used throughout this are honestly very impressively used and put together for some really fantastic shots

4.) the opening, with ‘Til’ I Hear You Sing Once More’. This song is honestly very lovely, and really articulates the Phantom’s loss and heartache for Christine. It’s sung very earnestly, and had the rest of the show been more like this I might have liked it more. 

5.) the Fucking Song, ‘Beneath a Moonless Sky’, is a guilty pleasure. It’s so over the top, and it is only about recounting that One Time they totally banged yo, and I love it. I think it’s the orchestration, but it’s also enjoyably silly even while it takes itself 100% serious. 

6.) As much as I hate to say this? ‘Devil Take the Hindmost’. While I hate the gist of the song - that being Raoul and Erik betting on who Christine will choose, and pretty much deciding for her who will get to be her one true love forever, completely negating the entire point of the OF musical where her choice was the most important factor for all of them - the pacing and the lyrics as they dance around each other are absolutely fantastic. It’s kind of sad to say, but Raoul and the Phantom, in this scene alone, display more chemistry in their singing than they do with anyone else. Let the hatefcuking commence~

7.) Some parts of ‘The Beauty Underneath’ I enjoy, particularly the ending scene where the Phantom is trying to talk Meg down. It’s very slow, melodic, and shows his more manipulative side, as well as how he can crawl into someone’s head, I love it. 

8.) This very interesting visual with a mirror in Christine’s dressing room. There are two separate scenes where someone is in the mirror singing. The first is the Phantom, between Raoul and Christine. The second is Raoul between the Phantom and Christine. It’s honestly a nice touch.

9.) The main three are excellent singers. 

 Unfortunately, that’s all on the list of what I liked. Everything else is a Giant Fcuking Mess. 

1.) The Phantom is no longer a complex, messed-up, but still somewhat sympathetic character, no; this is just a giant asshole who takes everyone for granted and barely realizes that anyone else exists except Christine, and even then only really as his personal instrument. 

He never actually apologizes to Christine for the shit he’s put her through and continues to put her through, but still demands obedience and forgiveness and understanding. It completely negates the entire point of POTO’s ending, where he actually realizes he’s done wrong by her and his actions pertaining her, and lets her go from his world entirely, and RESPECTING HER CHOICES AND LEAVING HER ALONE. 

Not to mention This Bitch also threatens to kidnap/possible “lose” her child if she doesn’t sing for him, keeps pushing her around and telling her what to do, and manipulating her life to change her decisions for her. 

AND HE’S FRAMED AS THE BETTER OPTION HERE

2.) Which reminds of me of the next big asshat: Raoul de Chagny, who has now become an alcoholic gambler who pushes his wife to do things she’s not comfortable doing to repay his debts, neglects his son entirely, and also is abrasive and controlling of Christine, to the point he yanks her back and forth on doing shit. Play this role! We should leave bc he was an asshole! No now we should leave bc Phantom is back! No take the role he’s paying triple! I’ll make a bet on whether she loves me to pay my debts! No wait you should quit ten minutes before you go on-stage bc I don’t want to lose you! MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND YOU MISERABLE PISSANT SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

Like I can understand being overprotective to a certain degree, which could eventually morph into being controlling. But neglecting your son, your wife, drinking and gambling your fortune away? ALL of that?!? Really???

Shouldn’t he be desperate to keep his wife and son close to him at all times after the events of POTO? Never leave, never go anywhere, only do what’s safe? You COULD have set this up as a continuation of Safety versus Freedom with Raoul and the Phantom, show the good and bad of both and have her choose from there. Show the dichotomies and hypocrisies of both men’s standards. 

But nope! We’re just totes gonna make the husband like this for no goddamn reason, especially since Raoul doesn’t start suspecting that Gustave (his son) isn’t really his until Devil Take the Hindmost. He’s just that much of an idiot!

3.) The presence of Madame Giry and Meg Giry. Oh gods, where to even begin? They’re pretty much only here so that Sir Andy doesn’t have to make new characters with different backstories and motivations and introduce them accordingly. Nope! Now both women are blaming Christine for leaving the Phantom Man-Baby, and talking about everything they sacrificed to help him make his stupid-ass circus, and talking about how they love him and GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH Madame Giry in the POTO musical YOU LED RAOUL DIRECTLY TO THE PHANTOM’S LAIR SO HE COULD RESCUE CHRISTINE WHY ARE YOU COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW SHE BETRAYED HIM

And, oh, Meg... she reaaaaaaaaaaaaally got the short end of the stick here. I just... poor dear, she was horribly treated in this. 

Neither of them deserved to be like this, honestly. 

4.) Christine, to a lesser extent. Experienced Literal Character Assassination, forced to choose between two horrible options, stripped of her agency entirely, used as a bet in a game between said two horrible options, lied to and dragged around constantly, should have taken Gustave and run off with Meg to run a music store together. Fcuk you Sir Andy, for using POTO characters to act out your bitterness and frustration at your ex. 

5.) The entirety of the whole Boardwalk Circus schtick, spawning an additional Fuck You to Frederick Forsythe, who thought this was a tenable option for the story to progress. 

6.) The Phantom’s deformity was literally just four lines drawn onto his face with crayon and some smeared lipstick:

what even the fcuk, you couldn’t make the make-up crayon drawing more detailed??? take more than ten minutes to draw it on???

I never thought I would say this, but even the 2004 film’s depiction was better than this! At least that one partially drew from a real medical condition, Sturge-Weber Syndrome. What the fcuk is your excuse LND?!?

7.)  The Lyrics. Oh gods, the lyrics. Some songs were decent, mostly the ones I listed up top. But the rest? Did someone forget to give the writer a more advanced/creative guide to rhyming lyrics? I wrote better shit in middle school than Glenn Slater did for the majority of these lyrics. 

Glenn my dude, what the fcuk is this nonsense? You’ve written good shit like the Tangled songs and stuff for Galavant! Why are you writing worse than an angst-ridden middle schooler? It is immensely frustrating, to say the least. 

8.) The really WEIRD direction in acting. No one here acts like they know how to move their arms or hands naturally; there’s a lot of really odd and unnecessary gesturing that makes it look like everyone has just had their limbs replaced with faulty robotic arms. There’s also a lot of leaning the characters do, with their arms perfectly straight by their side and it just looks wrong. 

9.) The Phantom’s pseudonym is Mr. Y. No, they never explain why it is he chose that particular moniker. 

10.) Bathing Beauty. Just... all of it, here, tied to POTO, present and here. 

11.) It’s been exactly 10 years since Christine saw/banged the Phantom, and her son is precisely 10 years old. 

That’s... not how pregnancy works. At all. 

12.) This weird scene with the American press, where they are absolutely obsessed with Christine, despite the facts they present, such as:

- She hasn’t performed in 10 years anywhere. 

- She was a French performer, and

- She only starred in three operas at the Populaire (Hannibal, Il Muto, and Don Juan Triumphant, which wasn’t even finished. So technically 2.2 operas that we know of). 

Why, precisely, would American reporters be so obsessed with her upon hearing she’s coming? I could see some interest given the whole shebang with the Phantom, but after 10 years of radio silence, would she really garner an entire crowd of reporters and photographers... in America, no less? 

France I could definitely see. America? Not so much. 

13.) Gustave is a flat, generic kid character, who apparently is totes the Phantom’s son because... he can play the piano well. And also has the same ideas of music as the Phantom, despite never being taught about them, or discussed such things with his mother. 

Is musical talent only inherited through the father’s side of the family in this universe? I mean, we never learn about Christine’s mother, just her famous violinist father. Otherwise, why is it Gustave’s musical talent isn’t attributed to - oh, I don’t know - HIS FAMOUS OPERA SINGER MOTHER?!?

14.) Apparently the Phantom is also now the one who invented cars OH I MEAN “horseless carriages” 🙄 A carriage with no engine and a “ghost horse” appears, and everyone is just fcuking stunned by this, like they’ve never seen a vehicle move without a horse before. In 1907. 22 years after the first functional automobile was invented. Ugh. 

15.) seriously tho who thought basing a sequel on the Frederick Forsythe novel was a good idea why did nobody think to stop him apart from Sir Andy’s pet cat Otto. why.

16) The Phantom’s interactions with Gustave are distinctly creepy and unsettling. I keep getting pedo vibes from him and I Do Not Like It.

17.) The death scene at the end is so goddamn over-the-top and out of nowhere I just want to throw something, ugh

18.) And finally, my last gripe with this mess: This takes place in 1907, and declares that it’s ten years after the original musical. Despite the fact that the OG took place in 1885. Yippy skippy. 😑

I can honestly say I am Not a Fan of this musical as a whole, mostly based on the plot and the character assassinations (one quite literal) and the poor lyrics. I can admire the camera work, the basic singing ability, the scenery and costumes, and maybe two or three songs. But I just do not enjoy it. It took me two days to finish watching it because I kept cringing from what shit kept happening, and had to walk around and listen to other shit to get it out of my head. 

HOWEVER: People do enjoy this one on the sake of it being so bad and over-the-top, and I can honestly see the whys. It helps that most of the cast can sing, and the orchestration is done well. There’s a TON of stupid to mock, and a lot of over-the-top awkwardness to laugh at. This is a good one to watch and mock with friends, IMO. 

For those of you who do enjoy it, I’m afraid I have to disagree on most of it. Still, it is nice being able to watch this one for free, even if it is a giant hot mess.

And that’s all for me on this one! Have a good week guys!

[x-avantgarde-x]

You can have as many as you want.

(Because my Tumblr is a bad bitch it:

1. Sent the answer before I had finished writing it.

2. Deleted the ask.

Tumblr, why do you hate me so much?? Any way. I'mma post this, and I give 0 fucks if you do or do not want me to.)

aAaAaAAAAHHHH. Thank you v much, gosh you are so sweet!

Touch starved Erik is the best Erik! Prompts used where "I don't deserve you." And "Don't leave me." From some list I had saved. This turned out a little angsty at some point, but our Erik is just a complex boy who needs his time to work things out, so the fluff is still in there. Hope you enjoy it!

Couple: Erik (The Phantom of the Opera) x reader. Mainly Lerik and Kerik ksks.

Summary: Erik it's just too edgy to admit to himself that he's longing for for being touched gently and when the reader does so for the first time things go kinda wild.

————————————————————

You sat at the couch at Erik's house, you still weren't so sure if his underground den in the middle of a lake fitted the concept of a (common) house, but the longer you spent down there the less you cared. By now it all had already acquired a sense of familiarity and homely feeling.

You had met Erik a year ago. A few days after what happened with Christine Dae you heard the sceneshifters talking about how they believed to have heard someone wondering down the basements of the Opera the same night The Dae had been abducted and that the whole Opera went crazy. Usually you were a really quiet person, and prefered to stay out of trouble but that day curiosity took the best of you. And by the sunset you were already under the fifth basement of the Opera Populaire.

You got lost many times, and many others you almost got killed by a trap, but at some point you came across an underground lake with a jetty where a small boat was tied. Without much thinking you got inside the boat and started rowing, not really knowing where you planned to get to. To your surprises after what seemed like a few hours of rowing aimlessly you could get a glimpse of some faint lights in the middle of a cave. Suddenly your strength came back to your already numb arms and you got to land in less that ten minutes.

You glanced around curiously. A voice inside your head was wondering what were so many candles doing down there, and most importantly, how they had gotten there but another voice onside you, the curious one who seemed to had just awakened today, told you to follow the path they seemed to mark.

As if in a dream you started walking, not really aware of what your body was doing. You felt like floating. It seemed as if you were in between a dream and reality,and that the glimmering candles told your body to follow them to wherever they lead to.

Eventually you got to what seemed to be a door and opening it, still not being completely responsible of your actions, you walked into what seemed to be a living room. You snapped out of your slumber because of the state of the room. Furniture had been flipped and pushed to the ground, the floor had vanished under a layer of what seemed to be shattered scores and glasses. Every room you walked into looked exactly the same.

Your heart almost escaped your chest when you found what seemed to be a room with a coffin laying at the floor. With fearful steps you finally made it to the casket where a beautiful cat laued inside. You kneeled in front of it and tried to pet it, but the animal simply held your glance for a few seconds before storming out of the room. Fearing for it to get hurt you chased it to one of the rooms that you hadn't already looked at. The first thing that you noticed was that next to the doorframe there was a switch, and you cursed yourself for not looking for them sooner. When the light turned on you couldn't believe your eyes.

There was what seemed to be a corpse laying at the floor. By how it looked you would have given it for dead, if it wasn't because the closer you got the more noticeable it became that the "corpse" was breathing, with some difficulty, but breathing.

It all hit you in a second. The Corpse Like Man that everyone had believed to be the Opera ghost, the spectrum that had hunted the Opera Garnier for years. It was alive, even if it did look dead. It was a living man who lived under the Opera and who had played with you all this whole time. A man who coughed violently and seemed to be bleeding out of a wound at his body, who wouldn't make it much farther if you didn't help him out at that moment.

When you finally came out of your thoughts you went to assist him. Despite the seriousness of his injuries and the apprehension that you felt about touching him the first times eventually you got him patched up. You also carried him to the bed you had found in one of the rooms without much of a trouble once you figured out that whatever it was the reason behind his looks, it wasn't contagious.

It took you some weeks to get him to be fully conscious and for him to have enough strengths to stand up for himself. The moment that happened he was furious with you. He shouted and yelled, cursing you for saving his life and making you leave the lake house, threatening you with your death if you ever came down to find him again.

But that didn't stop you. And eventually you didn't just come to make sure that he was okay and that he hadn't killed himself but because you enjoyed his company. At the same time the man, who responded to the name Erik had began to open up to you, allowing you two to become closer.

It all felt so far away in time now. As if it had taken place years ago. Erik and you became friends eventually and you felt like the two of you had developed some kind of unspoken relationship. But you never dared to speak with him about it, not after knowing what had happened with Christine. You didn't want to bring back any painful memories to Erik, and he had many.

Talking about Erik, you hadn't heard him nor seen him in the whole evening. You thought as you started to pack your things in your bag. You wished you had been able to spend more time together today, but he must have been busy to ignore your presence so abruptly.

As you got ready to leave you heard one of the many doors behind you opening up and turned around to see the man you had been thinking about walking out of a room, who was priming the sleeves of his suit. Erik looked up to you and his face seemed to have lightened up under the mask that he stubbornly kept wearing around you, even after you had told him several times that his face didn't disgust you any longer.

-My beloved- he spoke, opening his arms in a welcoming expression -what brings you down here at this lovely evening? Have you come to visit your poor Erik?

You shook your head when you heard how he addressed himself, it pained you at your heart. Holding your bag in your hands you swung slightly on your tiptoes in a playful way before answering him.

-Truth is I've been here the whole evening. But you seemed to be busy and I didn't want to disturb you. Actually, I was getting ready to make my way out.

The smile on Erik's lips faded away and a pout took it place. Erik did not let his disappointment go unnoticed and looked straight at your eyes before speaking in the saddest voice he could find -Oh, but why must you go? Don't leave me this early, my dear.

You chuckled at his manners, even when upset he was extremely theatrical. It may be the same with every men that advocated their life to their Opera's and music, you thought. The theatrical manners were a part of them.

-I'm coming back tomorrow, and you know it. No need to throw a tantrum over my departure.

You joked. Erik played along and placing a hand to his chest, as if he had been incredibly offended he went on.

-You insult me, miss. A man like me, throwing a tantrum as a mer infant?

-It wouldn't be the first time, would it darling?- you pointed out with a giggle.

-Touché- the masked man answered, accepting his defeatment with composure and dignity.

Your cheeks turned a soft red because of the playful flirting, which took place whenever you spoke to eachother. You placed one of your locks behind your ear nervously. The butterflies inside your stomach making you feel once more as if you were back to being that young teen who would snick out with all the other ballerinas to watch the handsome actors getting changed for the shows.

Without thinking twice you walked closer to Erik, who's look of surprise you didn't seem to catch, and placed a soft peck at the corner of his lips leaning on his shoulders to get to his face. You left Erik startled by your actions and it wasn't till you were back in front of him, looking straight at his eyes, that you realized what you had done.

-Oh! Erik I- you tried to excuse yourself, but the damage was already done, and you felt his anger rising and increasing as seconds passed by.

-Damn you!- he screamed- DAMN YOU, YOU LITTLE VIPER! Oh how funny of you. Haven't I've been hurt enough for you to play such tricks on me!?!- he said, pacing around you like a hunger lion over his prey.

-Erik, darling, I didn't mean to- you attempts of calming him down fell on deaf ears because Erik headed against you with all the rage he had locked inside.

-How cruel of you! Playing with a broken man's poor heart! You know fully well that poor unhappy Erik doesn't deserve you! But still you choose to play with my feelings. Only to end up leaving me behind, just as that Swedish girl did!

Tears had formed at your eyes as he spoke his hateful words. It was not till he stormed out of the room and locked himself that you allowed yourself to cry. Collapsing at the sofa where you had been sitting not so long ago and crying your heart out.

Hours had passed by when you heard a door opening. You did not need to open your eyes nor to stand up from the sofa to face the door in order to know that it was Erik the one who had come out of it. You heard his slowed down steps as he came closer and closer to you, like a frightened child about to confront his mother after having misbehaved. When he was finally standing in front of you, head down to the floor, he dropped to his knees, tugging at the hem of your dress while crying over your lap. You hands found their way to his head, where you started playing with the few strands of his hair in an attempt to calm him down.

When Erik had finally stopped sobbing and you two were now laying together, him on top of you, at the sofa. Erik's masked face was hidden at the croock of your neck as he clinged to your body with all his strengths, as if he was scared that you would disappear if he loosened his hold on you.

Whe Erik dared to cautiously look up at your face, in case that you were still mad at him.

-(Y/N)...- he asked, almost in a whisper. You looked back at him

-Yes?

Erik swallowed, he swallowed hard, doubting if he should go on with what he had thought.

-I- I wanted to ask you for something...

It was the first time since you had ever met that Erik was asking for something for himself. So you stood up slightly, making sure that Erik was still laying over you, wearing the softest smile you could to encourage him to keep going. Oh, you were so eager to get him whatever he asked for.

-What is it, dear?

Erik let out a shaky breath, and bitting his misshapen lip he found the courage enough to speak.

-Can you give me two kisses?- he asked a child like ring at his voice -one for now and one to save?

Tears made their way to your eyes once more. The fact that all he was asking for so fearfully was nothing more but a kiss tore your heart open.

With watery eyes you knelt on the stomach and pulled Erik up with you to later throw yourself at your poor man, taking his lips between yours without hesitation. The kiss took Erik by surprise, but even if he was a little astonished at the beginning he ended up melting down in your touch, kissing you back with the same fervour.

When you had to pull apart because of the air loss you took Erik's face between your hands, his blissful eyes looking at you in pure adoration. -You can have as many kisses as you want, my love. Now and ever. No need to ask for them.

Erik's mouth formed a big o, and his eyes looked watery behind his mask. A soft smile spread across his features before he pushed you against his chest, were you buried yourself, hugging eachother lovingly.

[tisthenightofthewitch]

The sexy face of Satanism. We talk to the leader of  Ghost.

(translated from Polish - sorry for errors!)

Tobias Forge, the founder of the Ghost band, has only recently been talking to the press without an anonymous mask. For years, he only showed himself publicly as Papa Emeritus, a devilish priest whose purpose was to free the world from the oppression of government and religion. Now, remaining true to his intentions, he is known as Cardinal Copia.

Bartek Czartoryski: You've been playing concerts almost continuously for a year. Tired?

Tobias Forge : Oh yes, and I already feel that when I go home on December 20, I will fall dead.

You played in Spodek, and it's almost an iconic place for us. Here, for example, Metallica gave their first Polish concerts, with which you recently shared the stage.

I am very happy that we played here. Until now, we went to Warsaw Stodola, where we played probably three times and always thought that it was damn unfair for the Polish audience, because it got a smaller spectacle than everyone else. And now, finally, we could present our entire arsenal, with all the effects, pyrotechnics and so on.

Poland is, after all, a conservative and Catholic country, and Ghost has always been against organized religion. You don't feel like on hostile territory because of that?

No, we have never experienced any form of resentment, which is why I am a bit surprised at why Nergal is so often abused here. However, I explain it to myself that he comes from this country and is widely known here, which is why the attention of the press and public opinion is focused on him every day. We encounter no resistance here, and Polish institutions are not trying to censor us.

And I point this out, among other things, because I am aware of the problems Adam sometimes has. I am anonymous. People may know Ghost, but not me personally. In turn, probably every person accidentally encountered on the street although heard about Nergal. He's the walking advertisement of the devil's alliance here, whatever you call it.

It's good that you mentioned the devil because you are the sexy face of Satanism.

I hope so! But, seriously, I didn't realize it until we started touring more often, especially in America. There I noticed that more and more women come to our performances. And then I had to confront my idea of ​​what Ghost would ever become with what was actually happening.

Already on the first album, when the audience's reactions to my songs were quite good, I thought that something really cool could be born from it. But it wasn't until we went on the road to America and saw all these girls that I started to connect the dots, that maybe there was something in it that I didn't notice, which I didn't take into account.

I will not hide that one of the inspirations behind Ghost is the "The Phantom of the Opera" that I saw as a child, which seemed to me a romantic spectacle, but not necessarily charged with sexual energy. Except that soon my mother, with whom we flew to London, took me for "Cats." And that's pure sex. The whole scene is filled with attractive people in tight cat costumes. I was thirteen then and I fell in love with all the kittens one by one.

And when, playing overseas, I felt that corporeality was part of our performance, it enlightened me: since the audience has no idea what we look like, we can be anyone they want. They could have imagined me as George Clooney. However, this was not something I had planned. At first, our image was a bit clumsy, but when I noticed what we were talking about, I even thought that everyone would wear pants and move more around the stage. I put more emphasis on corporeality.

Speaking of concepts, I am curious about how the fusion of the musical and textual part looks with graphics, for which the Polish artist, Zbyszek Bielak, is responsible.

We have known Zbigniew for many years and we have learned to work with each other. When I compose and write lyrics, I like to have a clear outline of what the album will be about. That is why I need some starting points, such as cover and title, quite quickly. I don't want to lie, but I think we've already prepared everything before the recordings. Therefore, I hope that when I finish the tour after the tour, the cover will be ready and I will hang a large print on the wall. Only then will I be sure of the course I have chosen.

And as for the whole graphic design, because we plan to draw for virtually every song, it's organic work. I have now probably more than twenty invented songs, but these can change during further work. And it happens that I rewrite the text, change the title and then it may turn out that the graphics we have are better in line with the previous concept. But sometimes the opposite happens and I compose for drawing. So I am asking Zbigniew to come up with something that is consistent with the outline of my idea, not having a ready text, and then write, looking at the graphic. We do not have a predetermined work system, as I said, a living process.

You've come a long way with Ghost, breaking through the rungs of the rock career and wondering where you would now place yourself and the band? Far to the glass ceiling?

We are evolving, we have probably not reached the ceiling yet. It seems to me that only the next step will decide where we are going. We are getting used to the concept that we are becoming a band playing on large stages and the next, fifth album, which will start the next cycle of this evolution, will show whether we really deserve it or not.

Historically, many rock bands made a huge leap forward on the fifth album, such as Metallica or Iron Maiden. We at Prequelle have not done anything like this yet, but no one is surprised that we are playing here on the Spodek stage, that we fit here. And, going to our concert, you are aware that for the price of the ticket you will get everything you expect, I can guarantee it. Once you get out of the club into the hall, you have to give the audience something more, you can't go on looking and play like a small band that is lucky and that can't cope on the big stage. Then you have to do more and not stand out from bands that have been practicing it for years.

Just like Behemoth, who booked the largest halls for the recent tour in Poland.

You still have to. Believe that you can, that you can. For years, there has been an opinion that there is no one to replace old rock scene stunts who are slowly retiring. Because it doesn't work that suddenly the little ones become big. Or, on the other hand, that those who have been on stage for thirty years deserve the best place on the festival poster just because they have a long experience. And it's not the years of playing that are a measure of whether you are good or not. I remember the outrage over Avenged Sevenfold who were supposed to play Download after well-deserved bands that have been operating for decades. But so what if they play better concerts? This is how it should look like.

Tell me, do you feel relieved that after so many years you can take off the mask and officially perform during, even our conversation, under your real name?

To be honest, I feel completely detached from my stage character, and today even more than before. Maybe I'm not an abstainer, but I won't go to the club after the concert to pour a whole bottle of something stronger, and that probably would be expected from what I do on stage. Sometimes I also feel like I'm stuck in a limbo, because people expect a set of specific behaviors from me, observed at the concert, which sometimes is a bit tiring. That is why I insist that when material about me or the band appears, that it should be accompanied by photos of the band or Cardinal or Papa, not mine.

Because you, Tobias Forge, are not a member of the band.

Exactly. I don't want myself on posters, just like George Lucas does not appear on Star Wars advertising materials. I created a world, but I'm not part of it.

You've roughly thought of the band's mythology around a decade ago, but I guess the various circumstances and realities of the music industry require you to constantly change.

I couldn't think of all this ten years ago. I cut and developed individual ideas on a regular basis. Today, our mythology is also created by fans. Ghost is not just mine anymore. Maybe I came up with this and supervises the whole undertaking, but I don't expect that everyone involved, especially the audience, will follow me blindly. That is why what I do requires due attention from me.

GWIAZDY.wp.pl

(LOVED the support for Nergal!!)

[punk-of-the-opera]

Phantom of the Opera 1991 TV Movie Review

Before we begin I'd like to say that it might be a 4.3 on IMBD but it wasn't terrible.

The production quality is awful, it's filmed with a potato on a stage with a live audience, you can hear the air vents in the background. I'm going to give it a pass here because it's low budget 1991 here. The story is more important.

Now this is a musical, and actually it's not too bad. However, nothing is memorable; no lyrics, melodies, songs. The only thing I can really remember is the managers' duet with the Phantom interfering with his funny little shenanigans.

The story was okay I guess? I mean it's not terrible but I just have a few issues with the way they pulled things off.

The sets were hit or miss. Sometimes they were grand set ups that were beautifully made. Other times it was cardboard flats.

Anyway onto the important stuff, the Phantom.

David Staller, I liked him as the Phantom if I'm being honest, he wasn't as bad as some of the other adaptations I've seen. I absolutely adore his makeup, it's probably my favorite adaptation deformity, all weird and skull like.

My only issue is it takes waaayyy too much inspiration from the musical. Like you could put him in the musical and I wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

His mask is silvery and reflective. I kinda dig that, but it makes everything a little obvious don't you think?

Christine's character was okay, I didn't exactly care for how indecisive she was. According to this musical, she was first visited by Erik ten years prior to the events of Phantom of the Opera, so she must've been around ten years old (creepy).

The Daroga

I liked pretty much every aspect of his character, he seemed to be appearing in all the places he was in the book. My only issue is he seemed a little on the slow side near the end of the final lair scene. It's hard to explain, but it feels like he's not taking this as seriously as he should.

My absolute favorite part of the plot:

At the end, Christine leaves with Raoul (of course) leaving Erik alone to sulk. The scene fades to black and then a spotlight shines on Sorelli practicing her dancing. Suddenly, Erik's voice comes out of nowhere, encouraging Sorelli on and giving her advice.

So he really just pulled a 180 and went for the next girl he found, but I kinda dig the idea of Erik and Sorelli in this specific situation.

Final Notes:

6/10. The production quality was lacking. But the acting and singing was okay. I loved how the Daroga played a bigger part than most adaptations, I also love the involvement of Sorelli in the story.

You can watch it on YouTube here

It's not too awful long, so I'd recommend watching a bit if you got nothing to do.

[wewillwriteyou]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love || Chapter 5

A few elements from the main plot: A fine line falls between fiction and reality: what starts as a musical slowly becomes a game-changer. Tables will turn and it will get clear as the sun that the only unstoppable power in life … is love.

Summary Chapter 5:  Boundaries between real life and fantasy are getting more blurred by the minute: Elizabeth and Gwilym know something about it. Who could have imagined that rehearsing a simple dance choreography on stage would have caused so many mixed emotions? Especially, when jealousy works harder than reason.

Word count: 4k

Warnings: ‘Angst is in the air’, but apart from that and a terrible rollercoaster of emotions this chapter is safe territory for everyone. 

A/N: Don’t miss this chapter, folks, because some little events that happen in this one will change the whole dynamics between the characters. Enjoy and ... get ready for the drama. It’s coming 😏🧚🏻‍♀️ 

Tuesday, 12 November 2019

“When at home air smells like betrayal,” sentenced the Sorcerer “even the strongest give in at the weakness of the heart”

“Alright people, let’s try this again” Denise shouted from her seat in the first row of the auditorium.

At her call, all the actors on stage took their places on the little white ‘x’s that marked their spot at the beginning of the scene.

Denise smiled knowing Joe would have been very pleased once the whole act was completed. He had left her on watch that morning since he needed to go into town to pick up some mail and a few more things for the stage.

She had been sceptical when Joe had offered her to co-direct the musical but as days went by, she had come to even enjoy her work behind the scenes. She hated to admit that Joe was right, but she did love being part of the production.

“Didi, should we do the dance sequence as well?” Elizabeth appeared on her left and made her jump for the surprise.

“Uhm… yeah, sure if you want” she said “Just give me ten mins to see if this works and the stage is yours”

Elizabeth smiled and walked back to her seat a few rows back, next to Gwilym and Rami.

“What’d she say?” the latter asked.

“She said it’s okay” the girl untied her ponytail and braided her hair on her shoulder, “I think we should try both scenes…”

“Both?” Gwilym asked, startled “Our sequence isn’t even finished yet…”

The redhead stopped for a moment then shook her head. “It’s been a week since we last rehearsed… it’s not gonna hurt to practice the scene and the dance sequence altogether…”

Gwilym was definitely sceptical and frankly quite nervous to show the whole auditorium how he still could not dance. It didn’t matter what Liz thought or said: he still felt like the least graceful dancer of all time. He was quite sure Liz had only always been gentle with him just cause she was Liz. She was way too polite to hurt his feelings, but he never believed she meant what she said.

He felt like he had only gotten the part because he was Joe’s roommate and best friend. And he could almost hear the whispers of the rest of the cast wondering why the hell he’d been cast in the first place.

However, he couldn’t seem to be strong enough to let go of the musical. There would have been still time to find someone new, better than him for the part. But he inexplicably held on to the role, ignoring the voices in his head.

What’s so important that is keeping you here? he thought to himself and as if the universe wanted to give him an answer he felt someone calling him.

“Liz to Gwil – the redhead was waving a hand in front of his face – you there?”

“Uhm? Yeah,” he shook the thought from his head. You’re delusional, Gwil.

“I asked you if it was okay that Rami and I went first” Elizabeth repeated, wondering why he seemed so distant. Had she said something to upset him?

Gwilym nodded “Sure, it’ll give me time to read the script again”

Elizabeth smiled and got up to head to the stage, soon followed by Rami, not before he’d turned towards him and winked, “Don’t worry man, you’ll be great”.

Gwilym just smiled and let his gaze wander around the auditorium. Elizabeth had already sat next to Denise and they seemed to be quietly chitchatting.

Are you sure there isn’t another reason why you’re avoiding the dance sequence with her? his inner voice could not hold back anymore. You cannot tell me you didn’t feel your heart beat faster when she showed you the steps the first time.

Gwilym sighed and watched in her direction one more time. Elizabeth was already on stage, setting up the props for the scene. He got up as well and without thinking about it sat beside Denise in the second row.

“Oh, so you do exist. I thought you were just the phantom of the opera, who spies rehearsals from a corner and tries to scare actors away…”

Gwil chuckled “It’s just my turn soon”

“Sure. Whatever you say, phantom” Denise shrugged, glancing at him on her side and catching him with an embarrassed smile on his face.

As he watched her act that small scene with Rami that was supposed to be one of the first scenes of the musical, he realised maybe for the first time how natural it came to her.

It was not Elizabeth on stage, it was Princess Hyv.

She always joked – sometimes actually complained – how Joe’s play had taken over her life, but watching her on stage, acting, dancing and singing a few verses, he realised how much she was having fun.

He knew her to well not to recognise the smile she tried to hide every time she felt like nailing the scene.

It wasn’t the first time he’d stopped to look at her, wondering if his eyes were fooling him and the fluttering of his heart was only coincidental.

He’d had a crush on Lucy for like a year and knew very well the feeling of being around her and feeling his stomach tingle with butterflies.

But with Elizabeth it’s different. As he thought that, he admitted to himself for the first time that there was something else between them, beside friendship.

Yet, aside from a few glances and some awkward smiling, he couldn’t figure out whether she felt it too.

When the scene ended and Elizabeth turned to Denise, and he noticed how her eyes sparkling with joy, their gazes met for a brief fraction of a second and he could swear he’d felt his heart flutter.

Not a good sign, mate.

Denise got straight up and started applauding, as well as the dozen people in the otherwise empty auditorium.

Elizabeth giggled and took a deep bow, before taking Rami’s hand and repeating the gesture. They both chuckled as they walked down the steps of the stage, visible excitement in their eyes.

“Liz, oh my God! – Denise cheered – you guys were amazing!”

“Thanks, Didi” Liz hugged her tight before turning to Gwil, who was still sitting in second row, hands fidgeting in his lap.

“I’m ready when you are”, Liz smiled to him and he felt his heart definitely flutter. Again.

Twice in less than a minute. Not a good sign, mate.

How was he supposed to act and dance with her in front of the rest of the cast when he was not sure he could have held it together?

“Gwil – Liz awoke him from his thoughts – are you okay? You’re on another planet today…”

“I’m fine. – he gave the three pairs of eyes staring at him a small smile – I’m ready”

Liz nodded, not quite convinced but too into her own thoughts to wonder about it. The adrenaline of perfectly handling the scene with Rami was still running through her veins but she was terribly worried how Gwil would have had an effect on it.

Every time they rehearsed together she could feel her heart speeding and slowing at irregular rates.

Besides, this was no regular scene. It was the scene their characters met for the very first time.

Their characters were written as to they would fall in love by accident, by mistake, and Elizabeth felt like laughing at the irony.

Could it be that she was falling for him because of their characters? After all, everything had been fine before they started rehearsing…

Was she falling for Gwilym or for Hymy?

Gwilym was such a good actor that every time they read lines, she could see that he completely disappeared into his character and he became the gardener of the castle, the only person who understood the princess’ urge to escape from a set up marriage.

She was completely smitten by everything he said when they were on stage, like she was bewitched by his voice.

They got up on stage, both with the head full of thoughts, without the faintest idea how similar their minds were as they took their places and got ready to start the scene.

Elizabeth turned around, tying the long skirt around her waist – her character was in fact supposed to have a long dress in that scene.

Breathe in. Breath out., she repeated to herself.

“Has the sky always been so blue? – she started – Has the palace always been this splendid?”

Gwilym knelt on the ground, pretending to be planting flowers.

“Is princess alright?”

She swiftly turned, stumbling on her feet “I am not quite sure, sir – she stumbled again – My head is spinning so fast but the world seems suddenly so bright and its colours so vivid”

She brought the back of her hand to her forehead and smiled absently, letting herself fall backwards.

But before she could hit the ground, Gwilym caught her in his arms and smiled.

She returned his smile and a sparkle flew between them.

That was supposed to be the moment their characters fell in love. The potion had kicked in and cast the spell. The magic was done.

“Miss, you ought not to be out here in your situation. May I take you to your rooms?”

“What? No! – Elizabeth said, acting indignant of his suggestion – No, I want to see the world! Today seems so beautiful and new!”

She jumped right up and started running around the stage, as the music began to tune in the background. He was following her right after, checking she didn’t fall or faint like she just had.

“Why are you following me?” she asked.

“I don’t know – he chuckled – I cannot help it. It’s stronger than me”

She chuckled as well and started pirouetting all around the set up garden. The music started to fill the air and gradually their running around turned into dancing.

Elizabeth started spinning around and hiding behind panels that meant to be columns and fountains in the palace’s garden. Gwilym was right behind her, sliding gracefully as to mimic a game of hide and seek.

Suddenly he reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her closer and making her gyrate in front of him. The smiles on their faces were anything but pretend-smiles and Elizabeth thought they were close as ever.

For the final step, he extended his arm out and she pirouetted away from him far enough to be pulled closer right back.

Elizabeth completed her last spin by bumping into Gwilym’s chest and almost making him fall. He grabbed her by the shoulders and managed to hold them both.

She mouthed a thank you, momentarily sliding out of character, and smiled looking up to him. She realised she was closer to his face than she’d ever been and thought how blue his eyes looked under the floodlight of the stage.

As he stared into her eyes, the only thought roaming around in his head was how much he wanted to kiss her. Her face was so close he could basically feel her breath on his nose. He hoped time stopped so he could consider that decision, but his muscles acted faster than his brain and all he knew a second later was that his lips were on hers.

***

“Sorry, I’m late!” Alex’s footsteps could be heard down the hall, meaning she was running upstairs as fast as she could.

Joe rolled his eyes and snorted “I’m having a deja-vu…”

Before she even turned the corner, he could already hear her voice telling him were to go. And he was not mistaken.

“I was finishing the paper sheet for the song in act two, you moron” she hit him on the shoulder and Joe chuckled.

“Just kidding, you know how much I appreciate your contribution” he blew her a kiss and it was her turn to roll her eyes.

“So, why are you not in there directing, Mr. Director?” Alex questioned as they proceeded down the corridor.

Joe chuckled “I went to the tailor to pick up the costumes but apparently I drove up there for nothing cause they won’t be ready for another week at least…”

They reached the end of the corridor and Joe let Alex walk ahead of him as they began climbing the last flight of stairs.

“Thing is, I’m always everywhere but in the auditorium and I really wish I didn’t have to do all the errands by myself…”

“I can help you with that, if you want – Alex offered, turning her head to politely smile to him - Just tell me the day and I’ll pick the costumes up for you”

Joe sighed and smiled “You are a doll, Alexandra, I’m telling you”

Alex turned again and winked “I know”

As they turned the corner heading to the main door of the auditorium, they heard chattering and when Joe heard Alex muttering something that sounded like ‘shit’, he grinned, cause he knew exactly who the chattering belonged to.

“Hey guys – Joe greeted Ben and Allen, caught in some chat of theirs about the imminent canoeing race – what are up to?”

Allen smiled widely and wily glanced at Ben before answering “Well, I heard a rumour that my good friend Benjamin was rehearsing today so I figured, why not?”

Ben stared at him with dead eyes but a grin on his face “You better be joking or I’ll throw you out that bloody window…”

They laughed at his threaten and Joe noticed Allen glancing at Alex. What the hell is going on here?

As he thought that, Allen turned to the girl “It’s a pleasure seeing you again, Alex”

She smiled and glanced sideways at Ben, who was staring right at her. Joe saw her straightening her posture and taking a step closer to Allen, as if something had crossed her mind.

“Good to see you too, Allen. If we don’t stop meeting like this, I’ll think you’re following me” she chuckled and he followed right after, while the other two boys looked at each other confused.

Allen smirked, “Well if you want we can stop meeting by chance and, say, meet at Costa’s tomorrow morning for coffee?”

Joe raised his eyebrows. What the heck? He glanced at Ben and could have sworn he’d felt his gaze burning Allen’s jacket. He giggled too himself. Why are those two so obvious and yet still too big-headed to let the other closer?

“I’d love to” Alex smiled, to Joe’s – and Ben’s – surprise.

Joe decided he’d had enough of that game and walked across the love triangle.

“Alright guys, I’m sorry but I gotta get to work” he walked up to the main doors of the auditorium and pulled them open, letting the others enter behind him.

He recognised the music right away and felt his muscles tense up. Hyv and Hymy’s first scene together, the moment they fall in love.

After that night at the pub almost a month before, Joe had tried to eat his feelings and store down everything he thought he felt for Elizabeth, but he knew perfectly well that that situation was eating him alive instead.

He was the one who’d cast them to be lovers and he hated himself for that choice. Well not hated hated himself. But he kept thinking if he’d never cast them, that whole situation would have never been a problem.

He’d always suspected one of the trio would have developed feelings for someone else inside the trio; he’d never thought it’d be him.

As his mind reminded him what a poor choice he’d made, he pushed the doors open and the scene before his eyes left him frozen on the spot.

Elizabeth and Gwilym were kissing. At the hem of the stage.

He was definitely not ready to face such a scene.

He felt blood pumping in his head and for a firm half minute his mind clouded, leaving him sad, angry and confused walking down the aisle-way.

“What the fu-” he muttered, before beginning to march faster towards the stage and raising his voice “CUUUT!! CUT CUT CUT!” he yelled.

Elizabeth jumped on her feet and abruptly broke the kiss, stepping backwards and trying understanding what was happening around her.

“What the hell, Joe?! - Denise yelled back at him – what’s the matter with you?”

“THAT – he pointed at the couple on stage – is not meant to happen till the second act. SECOND!”

“Chill out, mate – Malcolm stood up from his seat and walked up to him – they did a fantastic rehearsal and I think that kiss is the cherry on top of this scene”

He patted him on the shoulder and walked away, before he could be reached by Joe’s deadly look.

“Malcolm's right – Denise jumped in – I think you should consider moving that first kiss here. It just makes sense…”

Joe looked up to his best friends up on stage and let his arms fall down.

“I’m sorry everyone” Joe started. He sighed, his hand scraping the back of his head nervously “Look, there’s a lot of things going on right now and I’m sorry I lost it…”

Liz and Gwilym were still staring at him like two deer caught in the flashlight of a car. It was clear they hadn’t registered what had just happened either and, maybe for the first time, he actually didn’t know how to talk to his best friends.

He couldn’t stand their gazes any longer and the fact that neither of them had said a thing was killing him.

“We’ll… uhm… we’ll discuss this next time, guys. I’m sorry I need to go…” he looked away and turned his back and without another word, walked back the way he came.

“Are you okay, Joe?” Alex placed a hand on his arm enough for him to slightly turn in her direction.

He gave her a small smile “I’m fine, just need to be somewhere right now…”

“Joey, wait!” Elizabeth spoke up at last, picking up her long gown and jumping down the stage to run after him.

“Please, don’t call me Joey, Elizabeth” he abruptly replied without stopping.

“We need to talk-” she walked faster so she could grab his arm but he was quick to shake off her grip and turn to look at her.

“Elizabeth, would you let me go?! – he realised he was being a tad more dramatic than he’d thought, but anger had taken over his mind. No, not anger. Sadness. – We’ll talk later.”

And with that said, he walked out of the auditorium and disappeared in the corridor.

For a few seconds the auditorium stood still, in complete silence.

The drama had only just begun.

***

Elizabeth was walking up and down her room so fast, she thought she’d consume her soles. Her hand fidgeting and picking the cuticles was not helping calm down her nerves.

‘What now?’ was the only question her mind could elaborate.

After Joe had come in the auditorium, caused a scene and stormed out, rehearsal had been just weird. It seemed like everyone in there was wondering what the hell was going on between the three of them. And, frankly, Elizabeth was wondering the same thing.

What happened to us?

At the beginning of the semester everything was working out just fine and where were they now?

She’d never forget the look Joe had given her before rushing out of the room. He looked appalled. Mortified. Sad, even. But the thing that bugged her the most was that he’d called her ‘Elizabeth’. The two of them had an unstated agreement that they’d be calling themselves by full name only when one of them had screwed up.

She stopped and crashed on the bed with a loud sigh, her hands joined on her forehead to cover her eyes.

The worst thing is I have an idea about why he’s mad at me, she thought to herself.

As much as she would have wanted to forget that whole thing, her mind kept on replaying the last few seconds of the scene with Gwilym.

When they were inches from each other, she remembered asking herself whether it was a good idea to get even closer. No it wasn’t a good idea, you moron.

Though, she hadn’t had much time to think and before she knew it, Gwil’s lips were pressed against hers.

She realised she had a lot of expectation on that kiss and when it’d happened it was… different. Not in a bad way, but not even in the best way. She still needed to make up her mind about that feeling.

A knock on the door made her jump on the bed.

“I’m coming, Alex, just let me get my keys” she fumbled in her purse.

“Ehm… it’s not Alex”

Elizabeth froze on the spot. Gwilym.

“Oh… well… let me get this-” she tucked the key in the door and pulled it open. Gwilym was leaning on the door frame, a small apologetic smile on his face.

“Hi,” she smiled lightly and moved from the entrance “Come on in.”

He awkwardly smiled, “I’m sorry to bother you right now… it’s just… I didn’t know who to talk to…”

Elizabeth sat on her bed and clumsily gestured him to do the same.

“Don’t worry – she smiled as he sat down – ‘twas pretty bonkers before, huh?”

She didn’t mean to bring that up so soon, but who was she kidding? That was the only topic worth talking about.

Gwilym giggled and shifted on the mattress “I’d say that, yeah…”

He glanced at her and there was her heart pounding again in her chest.

“Look, - he started – if that kiss made things weird, let’s please just forget the whole thing, alright?”

Elizabeth looked down to her hands “I didn’t think it was weird – she answered with a low voice – until I heard Joe shouting. Then I thought he was weird…”

Gwilym chuckled and she smiled, happy she could at least break some tension.

“Why’d you think he’s so mad at us?” he asked.

“He’s mad at me, not us…” she corrected him, before wiping some loose hair from her forehead and sighing.

“I think I’ve known Joe long enough to say that that reaction means he felt betrayed… - she looked at him, but Gwil was looking down – I think that seeing what he saw he felt like we were betraying him and cutting him out of the trio…”

“Well, what are we supposed to do, ask him to join?” Gwil burst out, making Liz chuckle.

“That’s not what I meant, doofus – she bumped her shoulder against his arm – I think maybe he would have wanted us to talk to him first”

“And ask for permission? Who is he, the godfather?”

“Would you stop? I’m trying to have a serious conversation…” she said between laughter.

“Sorry sorry – he bumped her back and turned to look at her – I think you may be right…”

Elizabeth nodded and looked away to her hands again.

“So, - Gwilym began again – about that kiss… did it mean anything for you?”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrow “Boy, you go straight to the point, huh?”

Gwil chuckled “Sorry, it’s just who I am… - he stopped to see if she’d had any reaction to his question and all he could see was some redness on her cheeks. He smiled – If it helps, it meant something for me…”

Elizabeth turned her head to him and this time he was staring back. She smiled, “Me too” she just replied.

She caught his gaze wandering from her eyes to her lips and then again to her eyes, his mouth curving in a small smirk.

Elizabeth realised she was relentlessly inching toward him, as his hand slowly crawled to her knee.

“Last time we were this close it didn’t go so well…” she whispered.

“Well, there was an audience staring at us…” he whispered back, making her lightly chuckle.

“Ehm, Gwil? – her mouth was completely dry as she tried to articulate a sentence – We should, ehm… probably talk to Joe first…”

“Mmh… - Gwilym seemed to agree – soon”

“Yeah. Soon,” she breathed before getting an inch closer and sealing the distance between their lips.

-

Chapters: ⬸ previous | next ⤑

A/N: Hello folks! We know you’re shocked: the ending is pretty unexpected. Or, at least, we hope you liked it! Let us know what y’all think about this chapter!

Enjoy!

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[thepropertylovers]

Feature Friday with Matthew Chaffee

Happy Friday, friends. Though the weeks are running together and what day it is means almost nothing anymore, we’re so happy it’s finally the weekend. The last few weeks have been some of the busiest for us (feeling grateful for that) and we’re looking forward to relaxing just a bit this weekend. Do you have any fun plans?

This week’s Feature Friday is Matthew, who shares what it was like growing up in a conservative environment, the response he got from his senior high school class when he came out in front of them by reading an essay (!), and his advice for those struggling to come out. We enjoyed getting to know Matthew and we think you will, too. See what we mean below…

What is your favorite place you’ve ever traveled to and why? Unfortunately, my answer to this question isn’t very exciting. Growing up, my family never had a lot of extra money to spend on traveling, so most of our vacations consisted of road trips around the Midwest. Don’t get me wrong, I got to see some fascinating places and make great memories with my family, but I haven’t been anywhere particularly exotic. I have been to New York City twice, both times for a music department tour in high school, and I’d have to say that it’s probably my favorite place I’ve traveled to. It was so much bigger and so much more cosmopolitan than anything I had ever seen or was used to, so it was quite overwhelming. The sheer vibrancy of it all – the lights, the smells, the languages – was intoxicating. Attending a performance of Phantom of the Opera on Broadway would probably have to go on my list of top ten life experiences thus far. It’s definitely not somewhere I could live for any length of time, but for somewhere to visit, it was phenomenal. 

Where did you grow up? What was your environment like? I’ve spent the entirety of my life living in West Michigan, which, as you may or may not know, is pretty traditional and conservative. More specifically, I’m from Grandville, which is a city of about 16,000 located in the Greater Grand Rapids area. Dutch heritage and Reformed (Protestant) Christian values play a big role in shaping the culture of the circles I grew up in. I attended a Christian Reformed Church, and I was educated in a private Christian school where my graduating class consisted of approximately seventy students. My family consists of myself, my mother, my father, and my brother, who is five years younger than me. I am very close with my parents, and I’d say my relationship with my brother is typical of siblings with our age gap. Family and faith have always been central parts of my life, and I don’t foresee that changing. 

How did your environment growing up shape who you are as a person? Growing up in a pretty conservative area definitely had an impact on my younger years. I remember in elementary school, like many children, I would parrot my parents’ political views when “discussing” politics with my peers. However, with the growing revelation about my sexuality that came with puberty, my views slowly began to change. Another catalyst for my shifting views occurred in middle school, when a good friend of mine was deported to Guatemala due to an error in her parents’ paperwork. The injustice of it all really impacted me and opened my eyes to a world that before had been largely hidden. High school gave me my first opportunity to connect with international students. As I have always been interested in learning about different cultures, I quickly befriended them and even helped start my high school’s International Club, which provided opportunities for American and international students to interact and attend various cultural events. Finally, my Aunt Dawn and Uncle Tim have played a major role in exposing me to issues concerning social justice. Although both of them grew up in West Michigan – just like my parents – their life circumstances have provided them with opportunities not experienced by most of my other family members. Because of this, they have always stood out to me as being somehow “different”, more engaged and more vibrant and passionate than most people I know. As I grew older and began paying more attention to the things my Aunt and Uncle would talk about, I began to realize the value behind the causes they were advocating. When taken together, my friends, my family, my sexuality, and my desire to continuously learn and expand my horizons have shaped me into who I am today. 

What’s one interesting fact about you? Besides English, I’m speak conversational Spanish and basic French and Korean. I also can play piano and trumpet, and I love to sing (though I don’t know if I’m any good or not, since I’m too shy to sing in front of anyone). 

What is one thing you love about yourself? Learning to love myself hasn’t been easy; it’s a process, and definitely something I’m still working on. But one thing I’ve always been proud of is my imagination. I’m a dreamer, and my mind is a wild place. I keep a running note on my phone of all the random, crazy things I think up so that maybe someday I can make them happen. 

What brings you the most joy in life? Oh boy. There are so many things I could talk about here. I love being outdoors. In particular, I love to bike. Bike trails are plentiful where I live, and Grand Rapids has begun to install bike lanes, so getting around and finding new places to ride is a cinch. My favorite ride is from Grand Rapids out to Lake Michigan, which I do a few times every summer with my best friend. Other outdoor activities I enjoy are hiking and hammocking. I firmly believe that everyone should own a good hammock. In addition to outdoor activities, I love to cook and bake. My specialties are ice cream and gourmet mac & cheese. Someday I hope to write a mac & cheese cookbook and title it “MAC: The Complete Guy to Everyone’s Childhood Favorite” (M-A-C are my initials). I also make a mean hummus. I love to learn. I’ve spent countless hours on Wikipedia reading about the most arbitrary topics. Whether it’s German political parties or the Japanese folklore, I’ve probably read about it. Nothing is off limits. As a result, my mind is a veritable treasure trove of random and mostly useless facts. Finally, I find joy in spending quality time with friends and family. Whether it’s playing ultimate frisbee, exploring a new city, dumpster diving at Krispy Kreme (a tradition at my college), or having late-night campfire talks, I’m down for just about anything as long as I’m with the right people. 

How old were you when you came out? What was your experience like? My coming out experience was a rather long process. Pretty much as soon as I began to have romantic feelings toward people, I realized that I had them for both guys and girls. This was around fourth or fifth grade, and I told myself that it was normal, that I wasn’t actually attracted to guys, but that I just knew that some guys were really good-looking. Once I reached middle school, I started to come to terms with the fact that maybe I was attracted to guys. But I continued to tell myself that I was more attracted to girls. I did the whole “percentage” thing, where I was like, “okay, I’m eighty percent straight, twenty percent gay.” I first came out as bisexual to my friend Carly. Freshman year of high school I told a few more friends that I was bi, and it went over pretty well. Sophomore year I briefly dated a girl, then junior year I began dating another girl. That lasted for about a year until we broke up early spring of my senior year. The breakup gave me a lot to think about, but even while dating her I realized that something never really felt right; I could never really imagine myself with her – or with any girl for that matter – for the long term. After much soul searching, I finally accepted that I was gay. One of the last big projects senior year was the “Where I Stand” paper. This was an essay written by every senior for English class, and it was basically an opportunity to say whatever you wanted and to be really open and vulnerable and reflect on your life leading up to that point. I decided to incorporate my coming out into my paper. It wasn’t the central focus, rather more of a side note. Thankfully, my English teacher, Mrs. Hoeve (now Dr. Hoeve) was extremely supportive throughout the process. On the day when everyone shared their papers, I concluded mine to thunderous applause, which was especially remarkable considering the fact that most of my classmates came from the same conservative, Reformed Christian background as I did. On the whole, I couldn’t have asked for a better coming-out experience at school. 

How did your friends and family take it? Did you face any backlash? How did/do you deal with that? I waited to come out to my parents until after my graduation and open house in order to not burden them with the news. Finally, after the celebrations had ended, I let them read my paper. The fifteen minutes or so that I waited in my room while they read it downstairs were the most agonizing of my life, because I knew how earth-shattering the revelation would be to them. When they finally came up to my room, their expressions were pretty much what I’d expected – reassuring, yet somehow disheartening at the same time. They assured me that they still loved me, that they were proud of me, and that they were glad I had told them. Since that time, we have only discussed my sexuality on a few occasions. When I first told them that I was dating a guy, it was almost like coming out all over again; I think that revelation finally made my sexuality real to them. In the intervening time, I have seen my mom making definite strides in becoming more open-minded not just toward me but in general, which is great. My dad, though he accepts and loves me, is very set in his ways – though, to be fair, I have had fewer conversations with him regarding my sexuality. My dad’s parents disowned me when I came out to them, though that hasn’t had much of an impact on me due to the fact that I was never very close to them. My mom’s parents, on the other hand, have always been incredible grandparents to me, so coming out to them, especially knowing their stance on other issues, was pretty nerve- wracking. Incredibly, the news didn’t seem to affect them at all, and their treatment of me since that time hasn’t differed in the least; they are still the loving, generous grandparents I’ve always known, and for that I’m extremely thankful. My friends have all been very accepting as well, though this was to be expected considering I have always associated with my more relaxed, open-minded peers. 

What did you learn about yourself in the coming out process? One of the most meaningful lessons I’ve learned about myself in the coming-out process is truly understanding what I value and stand for. I was raised as a Christian, and my faith is still very important to me. If anything, it’s actually become stronger as I’ve navigated the ups and downs of my journey with my sexuality. I’ve talked with numerous gay men who, at one point or another, renounced religion for various reasons, but often those reasons involved the church’s negative treatment or exclusion of LGBTQ+ individuals. To me, this is heartbreaking. As someone who identifies both as gay and as a Christian, seeing the false dichotomy that has been constructed around these two identities is challenging and frustrating, because I personally don’t believe that such exclusivity has any place in either institution. At its core, Christianity is about love. Sure, there are endless theological arguments to be made, but I don’t believe that these are necessary in order for a Christian to be accepting of another’s sexuality. Indeed, many of my friends are Christians; these are the same friends who accept my sexuality and wholeheartedly support me. Furthermore, the professors at the private Christian university I attend vehemently assert that Christianity and social justice go hand- in-hand, and that this includes advocacy for LGBTQ+ rights. Seeing this kind of support coming from within circles that are often viewed as hostile toward the LGBTQ+ community has been so incredibly encouraging. Not only has this served to reinforce my identity as both a gay man and a Christian, but it has also provided me with confidence when speaking about these issues. 

What would you tell today’s LGBTQ youth who are struggling to come out in fear they won’t be accepted by family, friends, society? You just might be surprised. People you’d never expect to support you will rally around you and love you. It’s also possible that people who truly care about you, but who may not be supportive right now, will have a change of heart when they find out. Sometimes it takes time. Case in point: my own parents, who are still processing and learning about what it means to have a gay son. Know, too, that family can mean more than one thing. Friends are the family you choose, so seek out and surround yourself with people who will love and accept you for who you are, especially if your actual family doesn’t. As cliché as it sounds, it does get better. Sometimes you just have to put in the effort to make it better for yourself and accept the challenges along the way. 

What is a difficult or challenging obstacle you have overcame in your life, or hope to overcome? By far the most difficult obstacle I’ve had to overcome in my life has been my struggle with mental illness, namely anxiety and depression. I was extremely anxious as a young child, to the point where I would induce vomiting before any sort of performance or sporting event so that it wouldn’t happen while on stage or on the field. Looking back, I think my anxiety was to blame for a lot of missed opportunities. For example, I don’t view myself as a particularly athletic person. But is this actually true? Or did I just never really try for fear of failure? Anxiety also manifests itself in my relationships. Elementary school friendships were rocky at best, and college presented its own challenges with meeting people and putting myself out there. More recently, depression has been a major struggle in my life. As I mentioned, I struggled initially to make friends at college (though this has since changed), and as I result, I became very depressed. I saw all the people around me getting settled into their friend groups while I felt alone. There was a point where my loneliness led me to seriously contemplate suicide, and I believe that perhaps the only thing that stopped me was when a friend checked in on me and gave me a hug. Since that time, I’ve been working on slowly but surely moving my center of identity to within myself, rather than placing it in other people and their judgements of me. I am focusing on pursuing my hobbies and interests, taking time to care for myself, and accepting my emotions as valid while simultaneously analyzing them through an objective lens. By doing this, I have become less worried about maintaining relationships and instead have been able to be present and actually enjoy them while also feeling more comfortable in the times when I’m alone. 

Who is your biggest inspiration and why? My biggest inspiration is my mom’s sister Dawn. She is one of the wisest, most thoughtful, and most gracious people I know. I actually came out to her before I told my parents; due to her close relationship with my mom, I knew she would have some good suggestions for how to break the news to them, and that she would be able to help my mom process the news after the fact. To give an idea of the type of person Dawn is, here’s a little anecdote: When I worked as a Resident Assistant in college, I had a resident come out to me. I was thrilled and honored to have him entrust me with such a significant part of his identity, and I really valued the opportunity to walk alongside him in his journey. I mentioned to him the role Dawn had played in my own coming-out process, and he asked if she might be willing to offer some advice to his mom. I reached out to Dawn, and she willingly agreed. I came to find out later from this resident that his mother and my aunt had talked for over an hour on the phone. I don’t know very many people who would go so far out of their way to help and support a complete stranger. 

Where do you see yourself in five years? Oh boy. Honestly, I try not to plan too far ahead, because that can be dangerous for an overthinking dreamer like me. But if I had to say, five years from now I actually hope to be doing exactly what you guys (PJ & Thomas) are doing. I joke that my dream is to have my own HGTV show, and while the odds of that happening are slim to none, I’d be happy to flip houses and develop property even without a TV show. I also hope to meet the man of my dreams, get married, and start a family, though this might take a little longer than five years down the road to happen. My greatest fear is actually never finding love. I know it seems a little ridiculous for a twenty-one-year-old to be worrying about that sort of thing, but it’s hard when you have friends who have been in serious relationships for years or who are getting engaged. I have to keep reminding myself that people find love at different times and in different places, and that I shouldn’t compare my own journey with others’.

Any last words you want to leave people with? Feel free to share! Feel free to message me! I always love getting to meet new people and hear their stories.

Thank you so much, Matthew! You can follow him on Instagram here. Hope you have a great weekend, friends!! xx

P&T

[jimlingss]

The Colour of Our Voices [7]

Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

➜ Words: 3.8k

➜ Genres: 98% Fluff, 2% Angst, Slice of Life, Broadway!AU

➜ Summary: He wasn’t supposed to hear. He wasn't supposed to know. But the instant Jimin came into your life and pulled the curtains back, you couldn't hide backstage anymore. You were no longer merely a phantom of the opera.

cr.

The notes come deep from your stomach, drawing out between your lips. Tonight, tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you sing.    “Masquerade, paper faces on parade. Masquerade, hide your face, so the world will never find you….”   You don’t know why you feel so emotional. Why the Phantom’s heartbreak and misery feels like your own. But you put your heart and soul into each lyric, and the director isn’t furious at the different take of the song, of how your voice even warbles past the thick lump forming in your throat. After all, the performance tonight is one of the most important ones that’s happening in a long time.   “Did the critic say anything yet?!”   “I don’t know, but she’s talking with the director right now.”   “Oh my god. This could change everything,” she squeals, the two of them equally excited and peeking out of the curtains. Everyone is gathered together, supporting roles and backstage members watching the audience slowly trickling out. “Do you know what this means?!”   “Of course, I know what it means,” she snaps.    “Well, I’m just saying.” The other girl pouts. “If the critic gives a good review, we could be back in business. More people coming, more money, better production, more pay! This place will become less like a dump. I won’t have to be embarrassed when I say I’m part of the female ensemble for Phantom anymore.”   “Let’s just hope the director won’t screw it up.”   “He won’t….right?”   “Shut up, they’re coming!” Everyone quickly resumes their previous activities to appear nonchalant.    “—And this is just our backstage crew. It’s a very modest set, but we do our best and everyone is very hardworking. Every person here does their part—” Director Kang is with a black bob-haircut lady who’s four foot eleven with kitten heels. She reminds you of your fourth grade science teacher who would make the rowdy kids cry.   Her cat-like eyes are narrowed in, and she grips her bag strap slung over one shoulder as she views the place with an impassive expression. The director drones on and on and the critic sighs before someone catches her attention.   She approaches the godly man. “You must be Kim Seokjin.”   “Yes, I am. It’s nice to meet you…”   “Min Yoonji.” She shakes his hand, and you muse that she must be one of the rare people in the world that doesn’t seem affected by Jin’s handsomeness. Almost everyone is starstruck by him. “I must say, your performance is very spectacular. Especially your singing. The tone quality of your vocals is very outstanding for Broadway theater.”   All at once, your breath hitches. Your heart stutters. Tears form in your eyes again.   You’re standing in the shadow of the curtains, in the corner where others are walking past, but to hear praise from someone who makes a living scrutinizing...it’s a beacon of hope.   “Of course! You shouldn’t expect any less of me.” Seokjin laughs and almost brushes off the compliment in spite of how touched and grateful you feel.   Yoonji isn’t amused and deadpans, “Frankly, I didn’t expect anything.”   “Seokjin’s the star of our show!” The director puts his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, trying to uplift the mood. The critic was awfully difficult to read. “Without him, we wouldn’t be able to go on! Speaking of which, you should meet our other star. Where’s Taeyeo—”   “Can I look around for a second? You’re really invading my personal space here,” the woman states bluntly and the men are alarmed at once, stepping back.   “O-Of course. My apologies. How about I get you some water?”   “Sure.”   The director struts off with Seokjin — the both of them furiously murmuring to each other in panic and before he can bark at you to go get the best glass of chilled water, the girl gossiping from earlier shuffles to them. She’s more than enthusiastic about running this sort of errand — perhaps hoping that she’ll be noticed by the critic or something of the sort.   You commemorate her for taking every opportunity.    “Hey, you.”   Your thoughts are shattered at once and you tear your eyes away from them to the short female in front of you. Your pupils widen. “Can you scratch my back for me?”   “Pardon?”   “Here.” She turns slightly, never repeating herself twice. Your hand automatically lifts out to scratch and her neck lolls. “Higher. Lower. Right there. God. Feels good.” Once satisfied, the posh woman steps away. “It’s been driving me crazy for the past hour and I haven’t been able to reach it.”   “Uh...you’re welcome…”   “Min Yoonji,” she says lifelessly. “But you probably already know that. Seems like everyone’s excited to meet me here. Don’t even get this treatment when I go home.”   Yoonji sighs and steps away, but you stop her. “I’m Y/N.” The female turns around. “L/N Y/N.”   She nods and stares at you blankly as if wondering why she should care what your name is. But since you scratched her back, she entertains you. “What do you do here, Y/N?”   “Sweeping, mainly.”   “Sweeping?” The corner of her red-stained mouth curls and she scans the premise. “What’s there to sweep?”   “Beats me,” you laugh.   A small, modest smile comes across her features. It’s the most genuine conversation she’s had here so far. “So all you do is sweep?”   “Well, I’m actually the voice of Pha—”   “Y/N!”   You’re interrupted by an abrupt yell from the director, the sound bellowing deep from his stomach. He approaches with a stiff grin that nearly breaks his face, Taeyeon in tow. “What are you doing here? Slacking, are we?” He comes next to you and practically bumps you aside. “This is our shy intern. She’s part of the backstage crew. Get on now!”   He shoos you away like you’re a stray dog, and you open your mouth. But the director moves on to introduce the female star of the show and Yoonji shifts her attention away from you without qualms. “This is Taeyeon. She plays Christine.”   “Yes.” The lights behind her eyes dim like earlier. “I saw. I was in the audience.”   They shake hands, continuing to speak. You’re forgotten in the dark as they move away from you, walking towards the dressing room.   One of the girls walking past shoots you a dirty look and scoffs, “Did you really think you could tell her that you’re a ghost singer? You really want to sabotage us?”   That wasn’t your intention.    But it wouldn’t be a lie if you told her that you stand in place of Seokjin, that you deserved that praise she handed to him.   It’s not a lie.   Once the meeting is over and everyone escorts the critic out, the director passes by and discreetly mutters into your ear, “In my office.”   You drag your feet there, feeling the crew members stares, the looks from those with supporting roles. This time, no one smirks, murmurs, or makes snide comments. It’s serious enough that they don’t dare to do anything unnecessary for fear of being reprimanded by the director too.   Getting called into his office is never a good thing.   You walk in and two minutes later, he enters, sees you and sighs. The man rounds to his messy desk and sits himself down.   “I’m very disappointed in you, Y/N,” he starts off.    “I’m sorry.”   He hums, hands clasping together. “When you went behind my back to audition, I didn’t say anything. I get it. You want to try out, I won’t stop you. But to think you have the audacity to betray me right in front of my face is a kind of disrespect I won’t allow.”   “That—! That wasn’t what I was trying to do,” you weakly defend, hands crumpling into a tight fist. He obviously doesn’t believe you.    “Then what was your intention?” He shakes his head. It’s a question you can’t answer. It was reckless for you to let it slip, especially to someone who’s a critic. It’s supposed to be a secret, one you’ll have to die with. “I understand you’re not a loyal employee, but it hurts me. What have I ever done for you to go behind my back and be this sneaky?”   Another rhetorical question.   With a downcast head, you stare at the way your worn shoes are pulling apart at the seams. You swallow hard, past the thick lump in your throat. Your eyes begin to sting. You’re humiliated.    “I gave you this job because you were pitiful. You think we need an intern around here?” His mocking laugh rings. “No! But I, out of the goodness of my own heart, decided to help you! I even let you sing when you begged for it! Have I not bent over backwards for you?!”   You shut your eyes for a second. “Y-You did, sir.”   “How many years have you been stuck in New York?” It’s a sudden question, one where he expects an answer for.   Your teeth grit and you murmur, “One year, sir.”   “How many casting calls have you been to, Y/N?” At your silence, he asks you again. “Be honest with me. How many since you got here?”   “T-Ten.”   “How many roles have you gotten?”   “None,” you whisper quietly and your jaw clenches.   He asks again just so you can hear yourself, for you to repeat it. “None?”   “None.”   “None!” he exclaims loudly, enough for you to wince, and he sighs. “See?”   The man feigns sympathy. “There’s a point where it becomes more than just singing. It’s about if you have something special. You just don’t have it, Y/N. Yes, you can hold a steady note, but you can’t be on stage. No one would ever want to watch you!”   It’s grating to your ears. A muscle in your cheek twitches. You can’t hold it in — you start sniffling.   And the director sighs once more, spinning around slowly in his swivel chair while you’re still standing there, hugging your own frame. “Don’t make me into the bad guy, Y/N. I don’t want to be so blunt, but you give me no choice. Facts are facts. Why do you have to be tricky with me and ruin this production? Are you that upset with me? Angry with me?”   “N-No.”   “Then why can’t you just be happy with what you have? Is this job not more than enough for you? Why must you keep trying?”   You rub your eyes. He continues tantalizing you for another minute and then looks at your patheticness and dismisses you out of guilt. He tells you to think about what he said.   You leave sobbing. Not out of anguish from him belittling you but out of rage.    Not even your own mother talks down to you like that.   This job a privilege?! You can’t believe you hypnotized yourself into believing that. This job is the worst thing that’s ever happened to you. It’s sabotaged you. People like him are the reasons you’re afraid of going on stage.   Once you exit the studio in tears, you find the black bob-haircut woman texting on her phone across the street, standing on the sidewalk. You look both ways and cross the road with stern determination.   Spite — contempt — resentment makes you into an ugly monster without remorse or consideration of future consequences. You inhale a staggering breath. And the truth is spat out.   “I’m the ghost singer for Phantom.”    Your voice breaks. You exhale. “I’m the one who you heard.”   Min Yoonji is alert. Her eyes are wide, looking back into yours.   You brush past her after a second, walking away and down the street.   //   You don’t know where you’re going. Your feet merely stumble forward, down busy Times Square till it becomes quieter and the streets are only known by locals. Your strides slow at a cozy coffee shop in search of a place that’s warmer, but as you look through the front windows, you find a blonde standing in line.   Your brows furrow and you sniffle one last time before opening the door.    “Taehyung?”   The tall, lean man turns around and a boxy smile spreads into his face. “Y/N?”   He must notice your glossy eyes and how you’re sniveling not just from the cold weather because he buys you a hot chocolate and asks if you’re alright. You nod, not wanting to talk about your issues, and he understands enough to switch the conversation to himself.   Taehyung’s presence makes you warmer.    “I just didn’t understand. He said yes and agreed he would go to the animal shelter and walk the dogs every week, but then changed his mind and then threw the job to me.” He sighs with a smile, tugging on the sleeve of his blue dress shirt. “I don’t mind, I actually love dogs, but that’s not the point. I swear my director’s so nice he can’t say no to anything. And then I’m the one who suffers when he decides he doesn’t want to do it.”   “Is that how you wound up doing improv?”   “Yes.” He grins and sips his drink.   You hum, fingertips warm against the paper cup. “So you have to walk dogs every week at the animal shelter?”   “Yes, and I’m also volunteering at the homeless shelter every other day during lunch. I don’t mind, but again, it was because the director couldn’t say no to other people. God,” Taehyung laughs, “He’s such a pushover. But I’m the real pushover for saying yes to him too.”   “Your director sounds like a really nice person.” You smile to yourself, wishing you had met someone like that.   “Nice or stupidly kind, I don’t know.” He shrugs. “But he’s an alright guy. Though half the time I feel like I’m just a servant to his whims.”   A deep exhale draws out of your lungs. “I know how that feels.”   Taehyung’s gaze is perceptive and he puts down his drink. “It’s tough to make it in this industry. But it’s like that for everything, I think. There’s nothing really easy out there. Even sleeping gets hard. So….don’t be so tough on yourself.”   “Thanks, Taehyung…”   He might not know what your job entails, but he has a good enough idea — and his intuition isn’t wrong.   The pair of you chat a while more. Taehyung unknowingly comforts you the entire time. And an hour later, he bids farewell and you reluctantly part with him.   He was the only good part of your day.   //   You’re sure your situation has happened before. There’s almost seven and a half billion people in this world now. The chances aren’t unlikely that someone out there knows how you feel — maybe it’s someone who wants to desperately go to medical school and they helped tutor another student after they begged, and that person ended up becoming the doctor instead.   Jealousy and anger isn’t seldom in life. But you’ve thrown so many pity parties for yourself.   You’re tired of it when you’re the host and the only guest.    There’s bad music at these pity parties, and it’s not like you know how to dance either.    But you don’t know how to help your shitty situation. You thought you’ve long lost all your pride after being stepped on so many times. It’s only now that you’ve been shoved again that you realize you still have dignity left — that maybe it’s time to pack your bags and go home….   The doorbell rings not even five minutes after you get back to your apartment. You’re exhausted, emotionally and physically, but you drag your feet to open the door.   The person you want to see the least in the world shows up in front of you once again.   “Jimin…”   “Hey!” He gives a bright smile, so happy and radiant that it’s blinding. He’s excited and you’re not sure why. “Can I come in?”   “Um…” You hesitate, only parting the door enough for him to see both your eyes. “I...It’s kind of messy here.”   “Promise, it’ll be quick,” he insists while running a hand through his brunette hair, moving the strands back. He’s dressed in his black hoodie, pants ripped at the knees, dark bag slung over his shoulder. It’s new. Expensive. “It’s important.”   You reluctantly widen the door and Jimin enters with a grin, completely unaware of your inner turmoil. Completely disregarding your expression of distaste. Ignorant to your unwilling body language.   It’s always about him.   “It’s pretty late.” But one thing Jimin does notice is that you’re not in your usual pajamas. “Did you end up working overtime?”   “No. I met with Taehyung.”   Jimin stops and turns around, his eyes rounded. “You...met with Taehyung?”   You frown in annoyance. Who does he think he is coming into your home and asking so many questions?    “I ran into him.”   “Oh. Did you end up going anywhere?”   “A coffee shop.”   Jimin nods. “What did you guys talk about?”   Your eyes narrow into slits. “Why does it matter?”   He shrugs with a small pout, trying to play off his concerns casually. “He just doesn’t seem like...that great of a guy.”   “He’s really nice to me.”   “I’m nice to you,” Jimin mutters out of the corner of his mouth.    And you immediately scoff. Openly. Loudly.   You don’t even hold back from rolling your eyes.    “Why are you asking so many questions? It makes you sound like you’re jealous, Jimin,” you tell him, distraught, unable to comprehend why you were being interrogated. You hold your ground, strengthening yourself not to back down.    You won’t let yourself be strung along and stepped on. Not anymore.   “Well….” The boy in front of you inhales a deep breath and looks right at you. “Maybe I am jealous.”   “What? Why?”    You don’t understand — you’re the jealous one.    But his response and following silence only continues your bafflement and puzzlement.    The two of you are standing at the entrance way of your apartment, uncomfortable like strangers. That’s right...you are strangers.   You inhale a staggering breath, breaking the suffocating tension before he can answer your confused question. “Can’t you—…..” Your voice is timid and hesitant, but then you pause and speak louder to make sure he can hear you. “Can’t you stop bothering me, Jimin?”   “W-What?”   “Please, just leave me alone.” Your head drops. You can’t bear looking at him anymore. You don’t know why you have to beg to be left alone, why he’s invaded even the comfort of your own home. Why wasn’t there an escape from Park Jimin? “We’re not in a relationship. We’re not dating. I don’t even consider you a friend. You’re…..overbearing and every time I see you, it….pisses me off.”   He steps forward, undoubtedly bewildered at where this was coming from.   Jimin reaches out in distraught, but you move away from his possible grasps. As if his touch would sear your skin. He immediately curls his fingers into his palm, retracing his arm.   “I’m sorry. I never wanted to upset you. Just...W-what did I do, Y/N?”   “You never. once. had any consideration for me. You don’t think about me for a second, Jimin.”    It’s an out-of-body experience. You can see yourself having a meltdown but you can’t stop it. You can’t stop the truth from over boiling where you’ve kept it confined. You’re tired of trying so hard not to hurt people when you’ve been so hurt yourself.    “Do you want to know why I sing backstage? Do you want to know why I’m someone’s ghost singer? It’s because I have massive stage fright. It’s really, really bad.”   “Y/N….”   Jimin’s shocked.    He opens his mouth before closing it, rendered speechless. His brows are furrowed deep enough to look like it hurts, a permanent wrinkle creasing where the knot on his features are.    “I always feel like I’m getting a heart attack half the time and I can’t breathe and it started when I was in high school when my voice broke during a performance and everyone laughed at me. It’s horrible and I still think about it a lot — and I didn’t want to go to that improv class.”   You’re hyperventilating, chest constricting painfully. It aches. “I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to perform in front of other people, but you made me do it. You pushed me.”   “I’m s-sorry…” Jimin murmurs, swallowing hard, not knowing what to do. “I didn’t know…”   “I didn’t want to help you either. And I shouldn’t have,” you mutter past the thick lump in your throat, pained, ignoring how your voice cracks under the pressure, “I shouldn’t have taught you how to sing in the first place, even when you begged me. I….didn’t want to.”   You sharply inhale, but it’s never enough to stop feeling that you’re drowning.    “And now that you succeeded, it pisses me off. I’m the one who’s been here longer. But I’m the one who’s left behind. Who’s still working that shit ass job! Every time you open your mouth to talk about how great it’s going, it’s really hard for me. But you keep doing it. And it’s not like I want to feel this. I don’t want to be jealous. I don’t want this feeling. I don’t want you here!”   There’s an extended silence.   You gasp for air while Jimin searches your expression, equally hurt. You tear your eyes away from him — diverting your vision — unable to bear looking at him. “Just leave, please.”   You walk forward and he stumbles back as you yank the door open.    “W-Wait!” Jimin holds the edge of the door before you can shut it. “Y/N, wait!”   “What?” You half-hiss, half-sob at him, at wits end. You want him gone. Gone so you can crawl underneath your covers. Gone so you won’t be able to compare yourself to anyone. Gone so you can forget how pathetic you feel. “What could you possibly want to say to me, Jimin?”   “I...I just came here because I wanted to tell you that I managed to buy you this ticket.” Jimin pulls the slip of paper from out of his pocket. It’s crinkled at the edges as if he’s been holding onto it tightly. He hands you the slip and you take it without thinking. “I-It was hard to get. I-I...I’m sorry.”   You look at it. It’s his show, Les Mis, a middle row seat.   This is why he wanted to talk to you today. This was what was so important.    It’s a gift.   You swallow hard and Jimin lowers his head in shame, murmuring, “You don’t have to go. I-I’m sorry.” He apologizes again. “I didn’t know that’s how you felt about me. I’ll go now. I won’t bother you anymore.”   He leaves before you can say anything, before he can say anything more.   Jimin’s door shuts and then yours follows suit.   Guilt eats you alive as you stand in the middle of your deafeningly silent apartment with the Broadway ticket in your hand.