#look up phantom theater NOW.

[crypt-of-blunis]

Come to see Maestro, have you? 🎹🏚️✨

Idk how many people know about this but the amusement park Kings Island used to have a ride called “Phantom Theater”

It was very similar to Haunted Mansion, but with a theater theme. The main character of the attraction was The Maestro, and he had a very cool design.

The ride was closed down in 2002, and replaced with “Boo Blasters”.

But they it brought it back as a stage show called “Phantom Theater: Encore” in 2022-2023

I’ve kinda been fixating on Phantom Theater recently..

[dcxdpdabbles]

God danny taking pics at the gala and tim just being enthralled by him while danny is completely oblivious to the fact that this is his birdie

When Danny reaches the podium, he realizes he doesn't have a speech ready. He doesn't even have a topic on what he should be speaking about. He barely knows what kind of art this charity funds.

Is it painting? The theater? Writers? Digital? Music? Who knows, not Danny. He just knows that it was for kids.

He is also still holding Ryan's hand, so the other man is forced to walk up with him. He didn't mean to cling to the overwhelmed ex-waiter, but Danny was really nervous right now, and he forgot his strength when holding on. So, despite Ryan's few frantic tugs, Danny's trembling fingers locked his plam in an iron cage.

A sea of faces is aimed at them, people who make thousands a day, waiting for Danny to open his mouth and deliver a speech on a donation that he supposedly made.

In the front row, Danny can spot Oliver Green and Bruce Wayne, who each recently gave five million to the art programs. Danny knows this because there was a joke online that the two were trying to outdo each other. It was a game to them, yet somehow, Danny Fenton is the name that appears with the most money donated.

The bright spotlight is blinding, to the point that Danny feels like he is going to sweat through his suit.

How much did Lady Gotham donate?

Rayn nervously shifts on his feet, his hand also starting to get sweaty in Danny's hold. He gives the other man what he hopes is a comforting smile and only receives a bewildered, nervous grimace in turn. Danny wishes he could offer to comfort him, but with the very little Gala training he has from the Ghost Nobility Meeting, he knows he can't afford it.

He turns to the crowd, leaning towards the mic with a crooked smile. Danny swears that whenever he had to uphold the duties of his title, it felt like the transformation of Phantom overtaking his body, covering every inch until the uncool nerdy Fenton was gone. All that remains is the High King Phantom.

"Good evening. I am Danny Fenton, and I just want to thank Mr. Wayne for organizing such an important event for the arts. What is art? Art is everywhere- the melodies of our music, the design of our clothes, and the wonder in our stories, movies, plays, and books. Even the shelter of our homes has art. It's proof of humanity, for it was the first way humans ever recorded their existence, and we used it to change our reality."

He smiles at the crows, using one hand to gracefully gesture to the ceiling that Mr. Wayne's family has tastefully decorated with wood carvings. "It's this wonder that we are now offering to our youths so that they may one day look up at a similar world and fine the wonder in it"

He has no idea what he's going on about. Public speaking has never been his strong suit, but thankfully, he has enough regal to make it appear he does.

Danny's articulation has smoothed out, turning each word into a hypnotic, soothing rumble that washes over the party. He knows it's working because the people's expressions have now shifted, looking both surprised and captivated as more and more phrases fall from Danny's tongue.

If you were to ask him how he knows this, well, he would mention that Sam had once taken a video of him while he was practicing his King's address, and he had been stupefied that Phantom had always sounded so confident, sass, and in control. He never raised his voice, but his words were sharper, and an accent from the high class appeared in his tone.

It had been enough to make Phantom look like a King since the start of the human race, and Danny was grateful that, like invisibility, it could pass along to his human side without a full transformation.

It felt like an out-of-body experience—he knew he was speaking, he could see the absolutely enthralled audience, and he could even feel Ryan's hand and the heat of the light, but for the life of him, Danny could not understand what he was saying.

If this was a movie, it would be the montage of a slow pan over the people, dramatic, inspirational music playing in the background to draw out whatever he was saying, and only the visible of Danny dramatically talking, but not actual speech was heard.

It was Lady Gotham. She had taken over his body and set it to autopilot. He knew because Clockwork had once done it to him when Danny was unsure about the move to Gotham.

At least she stepped in when he needed her the most.

"Thank you for your time," Danny finishes, feeling Phantom's confidence melt away as the roaring round of applause echoes through the ballroom. Slowly, he feels the control of his limbs return to him as he pushes away from the podium.

"Wow," Ryan gasps, staring at him with wide shining eyes. He looks like his breath has collapsed in his lungs. Danny feels his face heat up as the handsome man continues to stare. "That was the most beautiful speech I've ever heard. You're... incredible."

"Nah, man, I just really like...the arts." He fumbles. "Like taking photos 'cause I have...a camera." Danny shutters, gesturing to the thing hanging around his neck. "It got lens and everything."

Ryan blinks at him. "Are you nervous?"

"Yeah"

"Why? You just gave the most impressive inspirational speech I've ever heard."

"It's because you're hot and you're talking to me, and I'm not good with people," Danny tells him honestly, dropping Ryan's hand to rub at his neck. I also really want to take the Waynes' photos and be gone, back to the streets."

Ryan laughs, throwing his whole head back and trying to cover his mouth with his hand. Danny's eyes widened, utterly shocked by how bright he seemed now. "You, Danny Fenton, are the strangest man I have ever met, and I've only known you for an hour!"

Danny's face turns hotter. "Yeah...I ugh...I get that a lot."

There is a moment of silence, during which the clicking of people's wine glasses and the slow mutter of voices wash over them. Ryan considers him with a critical eye before he holds out his hand once more. "Do you care for a dance?"

"Dance? With me?" Danny repeats, but at Ryan's answering smile, he feels himself melt. Retaking the hand, he held through the long speech, Danny grins, "I love to. But only one song. I have to find the Waynes afterward."

"Why?"

"I'm on a job, actually. My client hired me to take photos of them."

"That's an odd request," Ryan comments, bringing Danny in close to sway to the music that plays. Danny shrugs his shoulders, carefully following the steps Princess Dora had taught him.

"She's an odd lady."

_________________________________________________________

Across the hall, Jason is watching the pair with intensity. Tim can understand the urge to figure out the new player because he knows who Danny Fenton is and where on earth he had hidden his wealth until this sudden splash.

However, that was mostly due to Tim's upbringing and current CEO job. What made Jason so focused on him? His brother usually never even blinked on any new money or old money.

He thought them too annoying and only came to galas to keep the civilian image up.

"Something on your mind, Jay?" He asks quietly, leaning on the wall and sipping his sparkling water.

"That's Ryan Aetos. One of my...employees."

Ah, a Red Hood Goon.

That could mean two things: Aetos needed more money for whatever reason and took a legitimate part-time job when not making rounds with the rest of the gang, or he was going rogue and planning on betraying Jason.

He was going to break one of Jason's rules, likely where they don't target the crazy rich because the crazy rich could buy the law and bring down it's wrath until the gang's territory.

In Tim's experience, it was seldom the first option.

"Do you think he'll do something?"

"I don't know. He seemed genuine when he spoke about his sick sister- she's why he's been trying to make a quick buck to pay for her medical bills- but he also has a reputation."

"What kind of reputation?"

"Manipulating and one hell of a Romance scammer." Jason grunts. "I've seen him trick three people into funding his lifestyle by batting his eyelashes. I've let him be since he never targeted anyone who didn't deserve it, and it was one less corner boy I had to worry about. But if he's pulling that now on Fenton...."

"Then Fenton may not react very well when he finds out. And we don't have enough information on him to know what he would do to Aetos." Tim finishes turning now to also observe the couple. Fenton is a flustered mess, seeming to be rambling and far too interested in the man wearing the waiter outfit.

Aetos, for his part, is smiling down at him with a content little grin and an adoring expression. It's hard to say if it's an honest one, though, because whenever Fenton glances away, hunger bleeds into Aeto's face.

Is the hunger of a man attracted to another man?

Or the hunger of a man attracted to greed?

Crude.

"What's your call?" He asks Jason since it is his employee. Betrayal or not, Jason has always cared deeply for those he considered his, including the men and women in his gang.

Jason watches for three more songs in silence before sighing. "Separate them. I'll take Ryan and see if I can figure out his plan. You find out more about Fenton. Maybe it is just New Money falling in love with a man down on his luck who's trying to care for his little sister."

"Sounds like a Hallmark movie," Tim jokes, pushing away from the wall. "I've always hated how cliche those movies are"

[star-whores-a-new-hoe]

The Comfort of Strangers //Padawan! Obi-Wan X Fem! Reader

A/N: Well...Hi! I haven't written in two years! I'll post a little update soon but I was INCREDIBLY horny inspired after seeing the Phantom Menace in theaters! Hope you enjoy this lil smutty Padawn Obi fic!

Summary: You and all of Queen Amidala's handmaidens are stuck on Tatooine waiting for Qui Gon to get the hyperdrive parts you need. With all the stress and anxiety of escaping Naboo, the good-looking Palawan stuck on the ship with you looks like a good distraction.

Warnings VERY IMPORTANT: I know Padme and her handmaidens are pretty young, but for the purposes of this story READER IS OVER 18!!!!! That being said, this fic contains, smut, kinda a hookup, using sex with a stranger as comfort, risk of being caught, P in V action, unprotected sex, pull-out method, handy, some finger-banging action, dirty talk, some implied Qui Gon x Reader x Obi-Wan action for a minute there oop, and probably some spelling and grammar mistakes!

Word Count: 2.8 K

With the whirlwind of events that was the invasion of Naboo, one would think that boredom would bring some welcome relief. They would be sorely mistaken. 

The rush of adrenaline that had flooded your veins as you and the other handmaidens frantically dressed sabé, hands, and hearts a flurry, before chasing you up the ramp of the starfighter with gunfire at your back had finally subsided. Now, with the monotonous heat of Tatooine creeping into the ship, there was nothing but dull numbness left. 

Padme had left over a day ago to experience this strange outer-rim world you all had landed on. That left the rest of you with nothing to do but worry. Senator Vancil regularly sent updates urging Queen Amidala to contact him. Each of his messages was more dire than the last. News of your people in camps, starving, dying, surrounded by those damned battle droids, those disgusting Numoidions watching gleefully from the high walls of the Theed palace. 

You could practically feel all of the handmaidens' hearts sink in tandem with each new update. That young Jedi, Obi-Wan, simply reminded the Queen, (or who he figured to be the queen) to send no reply. Had he no empathy?! Obviously, none of you were dumb enough to risk the safety of your mission, the safety of your people, in transmitting any kind of message but could he not for a moment let down his Jedi knight persona and give you all some grace?

Jedi learner actually, I suppose. You thought to yourself. Curled up in an out-of-the-way nook, the hood of your orange handmaiden dress hung limply down your back. Normally you were grateful for the thick velvet robes in space, but even with the ship's cooling systems still online it seemed that they were no match for Tatooine. The oppressive heat sat thickly in the stale air, leaving everyone on board anxious and irritable. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. Between your fear and anxiety, the sight of that young padawan was a welcome distraction. You were positive you weren't the only one who thought so, you had definitely caught your fellow handmaiden's eyes flick over him from under their hoods. There was just something about him. Maybe it was the cocky banter he had shared with his master, even in the flurry of battle, or maybe it was the way the collar of his Jedi robes opened just enough for you to want to see more. Or perhaps it was the way you could imagine tugging on that padawan braid as- 

“Oh, apologies, I didn't realize there was anyone back here.”

You start, ripped from your thoughts by the man himself. He stood, palm braced against the doorway to your little hideaway. He’d discarded his Jedi cloak, leaving him the tan robes. 

“Sorry,” You say sheepishly. “Just…taking a breather.” Truth be told, in a ship this size there wasn't much space for ‘breathers.’ There's a beat of awkward silence before he clears his throat. 

“I assumed you would be with your queen and fellow Handmaidens in the royal quarters.” You resist the urge to scoff. Little did he know your queen was off in the deserts of Tatooine. 

“I think we’re all just processing that last message from the senator. I just needed a moment to myself I guess.” He gives you a tight-lipped smile.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” He turns to walk away and you scramble for anything to keep the conversation going. 

“What’s it like being a Jedi?” You cringe at the question. He looks back over his shoulder at you. 

“Well, Padawan.” He corrects, sheepishly.

“Right, yes. What’s it like to be a Padawan?” He turned to face you full-on, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorway. 

“It’s a life of service and peace.” He says simply. “I am devoted to the service of the Republic and the force.” You hum in response. 

“What’s it like being a handmaiden?” He asks, a teasing edge in his voice. From this angle, with you still curled up on the floor, he towers over you, looking down at you with a seductive smirk that makes your stomach do cartwheels. 

“It’s a life of service and peace.” You repeat. “I am devoted to my queen, my people, and my planet.” 

“My, my, sounds like we have quite a few similarities.” You crack a weak smile. 

“Why not take a seat?” You offer, motioning towards the cramped bit of floor in front of you. “I highly doubt you have anything better to do.” He raises an eyebrow at you before obliging. “You must live in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, right?” You ask as he squeezes into the cramped space, his knees knocking against yours. 

“Indeed, Coruscant has been my home for as long as I can remember.” 

“I've always wanted to see Coruscant. My family went when I was very small but I don’t remember it. I always meant to visit. I just never thought it would be under such…dire circumstances.” There's another beat of silence. 

“How are you and the others fairing?” You pause, debating your response. None of you had discussed it with each other. Your grief was so profound, deep, and shared in the way only sisters know. There had been no need to speak of it. But perhaps voicing it would help. 

“I think this is going to be the hardest part. At least I, we, were all doing something by escaping the planet, almost getting shot down. But this, just waiting… maker it’s eating me alive.” He nodded solemnly. 

“I understand.” 

“Do you?” It’s not meant to be a cruel question, but definitely a pointed one. “I thought Jedi didn't do emotions?” 

“Jedi don’t do attachments. We are encouraged to feel emotions, they bring us closer to the force, closer to all the living things around us.” Maker, you wanted him closer. 

A part of you hated yourself for wanting distraction, for seeing the first person in front of you, and wanting to find that special kind of escape and comfort. But a bigger part of you craved the young man in front of you, the release from this monotonous boredom and anxiety. 

“And what about…entanglements?” You purposefully tap your knee against his, letting a sultry gaze flood your eyes. He straightened slightly, his quizzical gaze raking you over. 

“Is that really what you want?” His question wasn't accusative or disgusted but genuinely curious, soft, and gentle. The seductive fire in your eyes dies down slightly. Your eyes flick down to the floor.

“Is that so bad?” It comes out barely louder than a whisper. A gentle hand lifts your chin till your gaze meets baby blue eyes, nearly the same shade as the lightsaber you watched him wield earlier. Oh how his hands had moved with such skill and grace, you couldn't help but imagine how those calloused, practiced hands would feel running over your body. Obi-wan smiled. 

“If that's what you feel, then it’s not bad at all.” Abruptly he pulled back, the sensation of him leaving your bubble had you feeling cold even in the burning ship. “Yes, Jedi are allowed to have entanglements.” 

“Oh.” you flash him a sly grin, confidence slowly seeping into you. “Good to know.” 

“Indeed.” His eyes bore into yours, the tension between the two of you was electric.

“Well if you ask me,” You say, placing a hand on his knee. “We have quite some time to kill before your Master gets back with the parts we need, don’t you think?” Obi-Wan’s hand came up to play with the hem of your skirt. 

“I’d be inclined to agree.” 

“Why don't we kill some time then? Hmm?” Obi-Wan’s face lights up in a devilish smirk as his hands glide up to your waist.

“Doesn't sound like a bad idea to me.” 

You lean forward, a soft smile on your lips that matches his before the young Jedi captures your mouth with his. It’s not the quick frantic touches one would expect of a hidden tryst. It’s soft and comforting like you both know you need the solace of another, the soothing touches of a lover not the hard and fast pace of a quick fuck. 

You sigh against him, melting into his touch. Your hands slide over the expanse of his broad chest up to rest on his shoulders. One of Obi-Wan’s hands slides up over your spine, sending shivers through your body before he tenderly cradles your neck. His tongue teases the seal of your lips and you gladly let him in, pulling yourself closer to him as his tongue explores your mouth. 

Pulling you fully into his lap, you can feel the bulge in his pants press against you. Simply the thought of it makes you wet. You grind your hips against him testingly and he hums his encouragement. One of Obi-Wan’s hands moves to your knee. Ever so delicately he slides his hand upwards over your thigh, the hem of your dress pulled ever upwards with his movements. His hand resting on the bare skin of your upper thigh, he gently moves you to grind against him again. 

As you rut against him, Obi-Wan’s lips leave yours to place open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down the expanse of your neck, and over the limited bit of collarbone exposed by your dress. You expose your neck to him with a sigh, letting your head fall back into the reassuring weight of his hand cradling your head. 

This was it. What you so desperately needed. The reassuring touches of another that sent electric currents through your body. The safety of being held in someone's arms. Here, in this little nook with Obi-Wan, even if it was for just a moment, was paradise. 

Your hands sneak their way between the two of your bodies. Reaching for his hand that gripped the pillowy flesh of your thigh, you guide him to rest it on your breast. Taking the queue, Obi-Wan gives your tit a gentle squeeze, smoothing his thumb in little circles over the fabric right where he knows your nipple is. 

You practically whine at the sensation, grinding against him even harder. Your hand comes to rest on his crotch. 

“Help me take these off?” Your voice comes out much more sultry than you expected. He flashes you a smile that makes your heartache. 

“Why of course.” Together, you work him out of his trousers so that his erection stands tall and proud, a tiny bit of pre cum already beading at his tip. Your mouth waters at the sight. Without another thought, you spit in your hand before reaching down to grasp the base of him. He sighs at the contact and without missing a beat you begin to slowly move your hand over the length of him. 

“Is that alright?” You ask, his hands slowly wandering over your thighs, ever closer to where you crave him. 

“A-a little harder if you don't mind darling.” A part of you swoons at the pet name, and a bigger part of you smirks at making such a fine, confident man stutter. 

You oblige, squeezing a bit tighter as you work his length and Obi-Wan throws his head back in bliss. 

“Oh yes, just like that.” Seeing an opportunity in front of you, you lean forward to kiss his exposed neck, his padawan braid tickling your nose. A small blush creeps up his neck and over his cheeks as you continue to pleasure him with your hand. 

Obi-Wan’s wandering hands finally reach under the skirts of your dress, his fingers dragging along the center of you, feeling the wetness that undoubtedly stains your undergarments. 

“Oh my, all this for me?” He teases.

“Just shut up and touch me please.” You groan. Obi-wan places a sweet peak to your cheek.

“How could I say no to someone as lovely as you?” If you weren't flushed before that comment certainly did it. His hands push aside your drenched undergarment, letting two of his fingers leave teasing touches across you, never once letting them brush your aching clit. 

“If I’d known you'd be such a tease I would have approached that master of yours.” You tease. Obi-Wan scoffs. 

“I’m not a tease, you’re just impatient.” He replies slightly breathlessly. “Besides,” He adds finally drawing little circles in your clit. He leans in close to whisper in your ear. “You must be very naive to think Qui Gon Jinn wouldn't be a merciless fuck.” 

For a brief moment, the thought of both of them pleasuring you enters your mind. The older Jedi taking you from behind while he instructs his learner on how to fuck your throat. You’re pulled from your thoughts by Obi-Wan capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, rougher than the last, full of need and lust. 

“Obi-Wan,” You pant breathlessly, pulling away from his kiss. “Fuck me.” He groans, taking his cock in his hand to line it up against your entrance. You shimmy forward, knees on either side of him before sinking down. 

You both sigh in unison, inch after glorious inch fills you up, stretching you out perfectly. He’s barely inside of you before you start moving, grasping his shoulder to help lift yourself on and off his cock. He grasps your waist, helping you move as you work yourself open on him. 

the two of you build up a steady rhythm, it’s all you can do to bite your lip and keep from your moans of delight escaping the room. Obi-Wan hits a certain spot inside of you that sends a sudden gasp from your lips. His hand quickly reaches up to cover your mouth.

“Careful now, wouldn't want the other handmaidens hearing, would we?” You whine quietly in agreement. He smirks. “Think you can handle yourself without me keeping you quiet?” You nod eagerly. “That's what we like to hear.” He practically coos, his hand leaving your mouth to work at your clit, heightening your pleasure tenfold.  

Every stroke of his cock inside of you leaves you a bigger mess than the last. You grind against him desperately, hungry for every touch, every current of pleasure he sends through your body, every sensation that takes you further and further from the predicament you’re currently stuck in. Everything was building up, threatening to spill over at any second. 

“M-make, I won't last muc-ch longer.” Obi-Wan sighs. His movements on your clit are frantic, his thrusts sloppy like that of a man on the edge. “Please, need you to cum for me.” He practically begs. He slots his head between your neck and shoulder, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Need to feel you come around my cock.” 

He hits the perfect spot inside you as he whispers his filthy words in your ear, sending you right over the edge. Wave after wave of pleasure courses through your body, your cunt squeezing him like a vice, his ministrations on your clit never ceasing. 

“Oh yes, just like that.” He works you through your orgasm, not even ceasing as you slump against him. It’s only when you push his hand away from your overstimulated pussy that he ceases. Reluctantly, you move yourself off of his cock, taking him in your hand and watching with immense satisfaction as he falls apart, spilling his seed over your thighs. 

You both sigh, sweat beading both your brows and the air between you hot and heavy with a mixture of your previous actions and the stale Tatooine air. 

Swallowing dryly you break the silence. “Thank you.” 

“Sincerely my lady, the pleasure was all mine.” He nods to the evidence of such on your thighs which raises a chuckle from you. You produce a handkerchief from a tucked-away pocket and start cleaning his cum from your thighs. 

A content quite settles over the two of you as you tidy up, helping each other straighten your clothing. As you tuck Obi-Wan’s padawan braid behind his ear, the high-pitched beep of a comlink interprets the tender moment. 

“Obi-Wan, are you there?” His Master’s voice sounds through the device on Obi-Wan’s belt. He gives your hand a slight squeeze as he picks up the com with the other. 

“Yes Master, any luck acquiring the part for the hyperdrive?” 

“I'm afraid the situation has grown more...complicated.” Obi-Wan sighs. 

“Why do I sense that we’ve picked up yet another pathetic life form?” Obi-Wan casts you an apologetic glance as his master continues. Tucking your hair back into your hood, you give him a small smile and nod for him to go. With a soft smile of his own in return, he turns toward to cockpit, the comlink in his hand updating him on the situation. 

With a sigh, you turn and walk back toward the quarters where you know the others will be. The dull ache of the tragic events around you was still present, but somewhat subdued thankfully. Who knew you could find so much comfort in strangers? 

Taglist:@rentskenobi @mysteryofkokoro @highpriestessrebek @sarapixieelliott08 @princessxkenobi @dexthtoyounglings @book-hoardingdragon​ @cosmic-rich​ @laserbrains @hugmekenobi @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @profkenobi

[reverieblondie]

My Star

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X DancerFem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Smut with Plot, Praise, Mutual masterbaition, Unprotected Penetrative Sex (wrap it before you tap it),Oral, Cum eating, losing of virginity (mentioned), Ripping of clothes, Drink play?, Blindfolded reader.

Summary: The theaters new patron is an important man, as you dance you feel his eyes on you, you can't help but feel addicted to the way he stares at you...

A/N: I haven't wrote Smut in a minute so I might be a bit rusty...This idea came to me as I was watching Phantom of the Opera. I just need a Victorian Miguel to ravish me while calling me his star. This is pretty cheesy and a total self serving fic but I hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 6,532

Looking around as you fix your hair you see that the theater is bustling. Dancers are frantically putting on makeup rushing and bumping into one another. The crew is in a hustle setting up the stage, the show isn’t for a few days why is everyone acting like it’s happening tonight? Today is just a normal practice? 

Leaning over to your friend you whisper your question, “What’s going on? Why is everyone acting in a tissy?” 

Your friend Cristina stops adjusting her practice dress and looks at you with wide eyes, “Have you not heard? A new patron is coming to observe the theater with the owners today during rehearsal, they want us all to be perfect or else you're cut!” 

Eyes going wide, you go to ask where she had gotten her information but before you can the madam of the ballet is coming to make sure everyone is prepared. With everyone frantically preparing you rush around backstage into position, stopping to dust your shoes in the rosin box so you have a good grip, and can’t afford any slips. 

Going over your choreography for your short solo, tracking your counts, the sound of whispers starts to distract you.

“I heard that he is one of the most powerful men in Nueva York, filthy rich.” 

“Exactly what we need is a bored man with too much money then he knows what to do with.” 

“Well, his name is Miguel O’Hara, and besides him being wealthy and powerful I hear he’s also gorgeous” 

They proceeded to giggle amongst themselves, seeming to find joy in their comments but the words about the man only seem to make you more nervous. It’s your job to impress this man to save the theater that holds your ballet company.

The company is very dear to you for having taken you in when you were a young girl, the madam didn’t care that you were a lowly orphan with a name that meant nothing she saw you and took you in despite it. And now everyone's careers are dependent on impressing this patron, hopefully you won’t mess it up for everyone…

Watching the stage you are patiently waiting for your cue when the distinct feeling of eyes watching you stirs your concentration. Moving your eyes to the stage's side you try to pinpoint where this feeling is coming from. 

Then you see the mahogany eyes fixed on you, the gaze is intense, perfectly complimenting the structured face of the burnet. His stature towers in comparison to the theater owners groveling at him. This must be Mr. O’Hara, they were right he is gorgeous and with how he's dressed in a luxurious day suit it was clear he has expenses to spare. 

As his eyes continue to stare you down you feel the nerves in your chest starting to spiral. Opting to look away you try to focus on catching your cue you almost missed it from being wrapped up in a brief staring contest.

On the stage now, you focus your breathing to look effortless while you dance, thankfully you hit all your counts perfectly. There where things you where okay at but dancing is where you excelled. Typically you where a pretty shy and reserved person but once you where on the stage dancing you transformed into your character. And now as you move effortlessly you feel that things were going great.

Towards the end of your routine, you're doing your piqué turns. For this, you found it helpful to keep your eyes on something so to not get dizzy and lose yourself amidst the turns, usually your eyes keep on a random prop or on something hanging on the wall but instead, you find your eyes unconsciously fixing to something else or actually someone else. 

Your eyes lock on Miguels, again. As you're already in your turns it's too late to fix your gaze on something else so you keep your eyes on his. While you do you see his head slightly tilt and the corner of his full lips twitch upwards. The intense stare instantly makes you flush, and with consistent eye contact, you feel your body heat up with a pleasant rush that you know is being shown through the flushing features on your face. 

Eye contact is something you often struggle with, and now you have the keen eyes of Miguel on you, staring at you as you dance. Your breath stutters for a moment and you feel yourself stumble slightly but you're quick to save it. -Damn you hope nobody notices that. 

Finishing the turns you finally get off the main stage back to the side where you can focus on catching your breath before you can rush back to the dressing room to find your friend and tell her about your little staring contest with the potential patron. As you walk, albeit dizzily from the turns, not fully paying attention to your surroundings; suddenly you bump into what feels like a wall and then the feeling of two large hands catches you from falling backward. 

Letting out a slight squeak from the sudden collision you look up to see what you hit when a soft chuckle makes your throat dry. You move your eyes up and…Danm, Up Close he's even more striking and his figure is even more imposing. Despite him being the most intimidating man imaginable you feel a comfort from him as your being held in his large hands -he’s surprisingly gentle for his size.

“Woah, you okay there?” his voice purs as his eyes stay on yours. You try to think of something to respond with, but you feel like you have suddenly become mute, and then the two theater owners are chiming in. 

“Sir we apologize for her clumsiness, our dancers are usually more graceful.” 

“And pay more attention…” One of the men's grits makes you back away with your head low. With your head down you can see that you have stepped on his shoes creasing them and leaving rosin residue. Immediately you panic, damaging his shoes was sure to leave a sour taste in his mouth and you need to fix this before it's too late!  

Dropping to your knees in front of him you try to wipe away the residue apologizing profusely, “I- I am so so s-sorry sir… Please let me-” 

“Don't apologize” His smooth voice beacons as he holds a hand down to help you up from your knees. 

“But, I damaged your shoes. Please let me clean them.” 

Miguel laughs slightly as he grabs your hand, you can't help but notice how small yours seems in comparison. Back on your feet, you look up at him to see his full lips in a soft smile that makes your heart skip a beat. You think you could melt from just looking at him, you feel like a young girl again getting a silly crush so instantaneously. 

“You're too precious to clean shoes, I'm in shock that someone with your talent would even speak to me.”  

You feel your face become red. The owners are quick to speak up, “Mr. O’Hara you flatter her, she has talent but your importance far excites-”

Before he can finish his sentence Miguel is shooting him a displeased look that quickly makes him bite his tongue before he moves his eyes back to you. His whole face softens towards you, how he can go from so intimidating to gentle in an instant is a skill all on its own. 

“You dance beautifully, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.” He offers.

Feeling your heart flutter in your chest, you avert your gaze as a goofy smile spreads to your lips, though he doesn't seem to mind, only smiling more and tilting his head to try and keep your eyes. 

“Thank you, sir, you're too kind.'' Gathering all your courage you meet his eyes and give a warm smile in appreciation, praises are not something you receive a lot of, your teachers opting for more corrective and stern approaches. So receiving kind words from a stranger makes your heart leap.

Moments pass of Miguel completing your dancing go by. A part of you wishes to continue the conversation but you don’t want to be a bother nor risk facing the wrath of the owners or your teachers, so you say your goodbyes and excuse yourself backstage.

Miguel watches as you leave, he's completely captivated by your sweet shyness and the curves of your figure. He feels warmth spreading across his body as his eyes linger on you. 

“Having given it considerable thought…I would love to help out the theater.” 

The owners light up and start to ramble but Miguel quickly holds up a hand to silence them, “If I am going to be a patron to this theater however I want an invite to every show, and '' His finger points towards you “I want her to have opportunities for excellence. Do I make myself clear?” 

They quickly nod their heads and Miguel nods before he heads off, feeling happy for agreeing to the tour he no longer sees as pointless. 

It’s been three months since Miguel became our theater's patron and things have been great! Despite the rumors about him being a cold callus man, he was proving to be an amazing attribute to the theater. 

After his first tour of the theater, he paid for some much-needed renovations. After that was set up he took the liberty to hired acting and singing instructors to help the performers enhance their skills. Every week Miguel came by to check on how things where running. He would reach out to the crew and orchestra for all their needs, also checking in on the business and advertising sides of things to make sure the theater kept being profitable. Being a successful business owner himself, everyone was eager to listen to his guidance. 

Every time Miguel would visit the theater, towards the end of his visit he would watch the rehearsals for the upcoming shows. Admittedly at first it made you nervous having a man like him watch the rehearsals but Miguel was always silent, watching intensely with a slight tinge of a smile on his full lips. But slowly over time something changed where you started to like it.

It was an exciting experience having him watching the practices, it drove everyone to work harder and take the practices seriously. Plus you would never tell another soul but the feeling of his eyes racking over your body as you performed filled you with a tantalizing rush.

After awhile it seemed like Miguel was always around the theater. It struck some people as odd that an important man like him would waste his time at the theater, but you welcomed it. You began to look forward to catching glimpses of him. Though when he would catch you staring you would shy away. 

Then after a while, maybe because he caught you staring so much, Miguel started to have conversations with you. At first they were only about the performances and asking if everything was going well at the theater, but they slowly dissolved into more personable conversation.

Miguel would often inquire about you, your interest and your past. At first when you would talk you where very private about your up ringing being an orphan with no family. Many people saw that as something to be ashamed of, but slowly as you developed a friendship with Miguel you opened yourself up more and where greeted with only acceptance. Though this could only be him trying to be kind. As you continued to speak with him you found that you had grown closer yes but he still made you nervous.

You where sure this steamed from how he kept his eyes on you, those piercing eyes…

As a performer, you are used to having eyes on you but Miguel's gaze was different, it was intense and alluring. It never fails to make your stomach flutter and your face burn. You would always shy away from his gaze but a part of you was addicted to how he would watch you.

Before you knew it you were slowly falling for the theater's patron, not that anyone could blame you for it. Many of the dancers held a flame for Miguel wanting to be the girl he would favor, but everyone knew that was just a fantasy, a man of his social class was meant to be with someone from the same social circle, not impoverished dancers like you…so you would just have to settle for the friendship you two shared. 

Today was one of the days Miguel decided to visit, everyone was frantic and trying to make practice perfect as Miguel watched. Tomorrow's show of the ballet Raymanda, it had everyone frantic, not only did they want the show to go well but there was the added pressure of the show being requested by Miguel, apparently stating it was one of his favorites. 

It had taken you by surprise when you learned that a man like him would like such a romantic ballet but it only made you fall deeper in your feelings for him. With the knowledge that this was his favorite play fueling your desires, you had practiced extra hard and tried out for the lead role that were lucky enough to have landed.  

Everyone was ecstatic for you to have your first lead role and when word got to Miguel about your success he had sent over a dozen red roses to you with a note congratulating you. The kind gesture wasn’t lost on you so you promised yourself that once you see Miguel again you would thank him properly.

The only problem with your plan however is how meek you would grow when around him. Sure you two had a friendship of sorts but it didn’t mean you where not still shy when around him.

When you had explained to your friend about your feelings for him and she was always more than encouraging, but you knew that you and Miguel's relationship was only meant for friendship. Even so, Cristina said that even as just friends you need to not behave so meekly in his presence, he could perceive it as rude and stop conversing with you. A thought that you hated to consider.  

So, as today’s rehearsals wrap up, you muster all your courage as you watch Miguel approach you. -okay, this is your opportunity to thank him for his consistent support and his lovely flowers and notes. Deep breath and don’t behave like a flustered schoolgirl. 

“You're going to make a perfect Raymonda.” 

“Really? Thank you, I hope I live up to everyone’s expectations.” Miguel smiles at you, watching as you fidget with your fingers swaying slightly on your anxious feet.

Taking a deep breath you move your eyes up to his, conviction fills your eyes as you're determined to look into his. Meeting the deep mahogany of his eyes you feel your breath hitch. They are so piercing…striking…beautiful, he’s beautiful… Uhhg come on, just get a grip!

“I wanted to thank you for the roses and the lovely letter you left me, your constant support means a great deal to me.” 

“No need to thank me.” he leans in to whisper to you “You're my favorite performer, and I am so excited for tomorrow's performance. I hope you are not nervous” 

A giddy smile forms over your lips as you go to look down but you stop yourself and meet his eyes again fixing your smile to a softer one, “I am slightly nervous but I feel better knowing that you're going to be watching me. I hope to continue to be your favorite…” 

Miguel seems surprised by your words, then he is the one breaking away from your eyes. As you watch him he raises his large hand to cover the growing grin on his full lips. Blush seems to creep up from his neck to his face, he seems embarrassed like you usually are.  

“Well, I will be there to watch you mi estrella.”  Miguel regaining his composure steps closer leaning down so his warm breath fans over the shell of your ear making a wave of goosebumps rush your skin, “And you will always be my favorite…” With that, Miguel leaves with your heart.  

You were on cloud nine after tonight's performance. People, some you knew, others you didn't, were all eager to hold and shake your hand, with praises and congratulations on your performance. Though you appreciated all the kind words you couldn't help but be quick to get away from the crowd.

There was one person you were excited to see all shyness aside. Getting to talk to Miguel again after yesterday's conversation was all you could think about once the ballet ended. 

As you walked around looking for Miguel you found yourself in the secluded area of the theater. You tried your best to ignore the giggling and hums of the lovers hiding away in the shadows, stealing kisses and intimate touches in the night. This was a common occurrence after shows of people hiding away with their lovers in the back of the theater.

Shameful to admit but you have had the fantasy of you and Miguel being a set of lovers one day, sharing your secret desires as you hold each other closely, but that would only be a fond daydream for you to hold in your heart. In reality you know that it could never happen. Continuing your search, hear a sudden groan along with a muffled muttering. Approaching the noise you turn the corner and your heart drops.

Miguel pressed to the wall with a girl on her toes kissing him passionately. Confusion fills you, then the feeling of your heart aching causes you to let out a gasp. Miguel pushes the girl away for air and you are quick to run. Your heart hurts from what you saw, you cannot bear to see Miguel's eyes after that, if you did you would shatter. 

In your dressing room, you're stirring with all kinds of emotions. Why was she kissing him, why was he kissing her? Are they lovers? Yes, Miguel is gorgeous and quite desirable, but you haven't heard anything about him pursuing anyone. Was this a secret affair?

The sudden thought of Miguel being with that woman makes your stomach twist. Her touching him…his lips sliding up her neck…his eyes, his intense eyes staring at her while she…while they…

The sickly feeling in your stomach blooms along with that aching feeling in you heart, you wince from the pain.

Sitting in front of your vanity you hang your head low, thrush is, you're jealous. You want to be that girl, who steals kisses with Miguel in the dark. The one that gets to feel the rush of excitement as his hands gather up the skirt of your dress to touch you. The ones who his eyes soften for as he coos his sultry praises and his saccharine promises. 

Taking a deep breath you try to ease the aching in your chest; you're not her, you're just the nameless fool pining for a man you can never have. Feeling like an idiot you kick yourself for getting your hopes up. Convincing yourself he was interested in you, how foolish. He is in the arms of another and you only have yourself to blame, you never told him your feelings. Not that it would change things.

Sulking in your dressing room you fail to realize the door silently opening as a tall figure slips in. Locking the door with a soft click, he losessens his tie as he approaches you. Fidgeting with your fingers feeling sorry for yourself, you get a strange twinge stir within you, like someone is watching you. 

Lifting your head you're suddenly met with only darkness as a silky fabric is binded around your eyes turning everything black. The squeak that leaves your lips is involuntary and embarrassing. All your previous emotions fall away as uncertainty fill your chest. Quickly a familiar warmth fans over your ear causing your skin to prickle.

“Did I scare you, my star?” Miguel's voice is in that familiar pur you have fantasized endlessly about. 

“Miguel, why did you blind me?” 

He releases a hum, like he’s carefully considering your question, in truth, he’s just trying to keep you in suspense. 

“Because, I am not worthy to be gazed upon by someone as radiant as you” Instantly you feel your body quake at the praise, but before you can allow yourself to get carried away with your emotions you reground yourself bite and let out a shaky sigh. 

“Please don't tease me, Miguel…” 

Noting your unease Miguel hesitates from touching you further.

“What's wrong? Did I upset you?” Feeling his hands move to the knot of the blind you quickly to stand, stopping him from removing it.

“Wait, I need to say something to you and I think I can only get it out if I can't see you. Miguel, I saw you…with that other woman, kissing you. I know you're not mine…but, I-I yearn for you. Miguel you mean a lot to me, I would trade anything to be with you…even just to have a chance to kiss you, even for one night. I know that my name means nothing compared to yours but…” 

Before you can finish your statement lips are silencing you, melting you into a perfect kiss. Hands, large and warm, come up to cup your face as he leads the kiss. Miguel then breaks away and you almost whine at the loss. Though the whine is only for a moment as you then feel his lips kissing up your neck. 

“Don’t talk down about yourself mi estrella, you're perfect.”  

Opening your mouth to respond, Miguel takes the opportunity to silence you with a kiss once more. His hands glide down your waist before finding place on your hips. Leaning in you press yourself on him, relishing in his strong figure and insatiable warmth.

You want more, you want to feel him closely, deeply, you need him. Rising onto your toes you wrap your hands around his neck sliding up till you're grasping onto his thick locks of soft hair. 

A low-grown vibrates through his chest, feeling you becoming so desperate for him drives him mad. Miguel reaches his hand up as the other presses your hips against his almost grinding you onto him. The other hand is now on your jaw as he slips his tongue between your lips to steal a taste of you. The taste of him numbs your mind of all thoughts, the only thing you feel is need.

Your sex aches as you feel your slick starting to run down your thighs. He’s making you wet and needy for him, and you’re loving ever second.

The kiss makes you light-headed and you have to surrender and push away to catch your breath. Your face feels a deep shade of crimson as you try and catch your breath. Miguel you know is watching you, even with your vision obscuring the feeling of his eyes piercing you are ever-present. 

“Do you even know how long I’ve been wanting to do that?” he pressed you closer to him, your hands finding a place on his thrumming chest as his confined cock grids against your thigh. Making you throw your head back where his lips lick and nip at your exposed neck.

“Do you know what you do to me? How crazy you drive me?” he ruts into your leg more “How much I need you…” 

“What about that woman I saw?” 

Miguel's arms wrap around you pulling you further into his warmth. You could get as addicted to this feeling, blind and needy, getting high from his lips, his touch, his scent, his voice. You want to give yourself to him in every way. 

“That woman means nothing to me. She kissed me suddenly after cornering me as I looked for you. You're the only one for me.” He puts his head in the crock of your neck kissing against your pulse. “You're all I want….

“Miguel, I want you…I need you, I don’t care if it's only for one night…please…take me.” 

Moving his head away from your neck, he slides his hands down your back where he pulls the strings of your dress loose, you to shiver in anticipation. 

“If you want me then you will have me. But it won’t be for one night only. Once I have you I will want you every night” 

Finishing with the laces of your dress it effortlessly slides down your body polling on the floor leaving you in only your corset and lace slip. 

“So, I would be your’s?” 

Miguel chuckles as he effortlessly lifts you causing you wrap yourself around him, holding on tightly. Walking a short distance you feel yourself being laid down on what you assume to be the chaise in the dressing room.

Goosebumps rush your skin as Miguel carefully traces his finger tips down your covered breast, over your covered body, to your thin skirt. Once he reaches it he starts to gather the soft lace slowly moving the slit that exposes your leg to expose your dripping sex. 

“You can’t own a star, you can only admire it and wish it will grace you with its radiance.” 

He kisses you once more as his hand finish exposing you. You're completely bare and wet, you feel Miguel move his head back to look at your quivering wet sex.

Embarrassed, you try to close your legs but Miguel stops you and gently pushes your knees apart. 

“Let me worship you, let me take care of you…” 

His words are sweet and make your yearning worse. You move your hand to brush against your sex that flutters with desire.

“Yes…” is all you can muster in the moment and you try to soothe your hazy affliction. 

“Let me watch you…touch yourself for me,” he whispers in a honeyed voice.

Shyly you nod as you spread your legs further, exposing yourself right in front of his hungry eyes. 

Swallowing you try to sooth your dry throat as your fingers tease through your folds before spreading them open for Miguel. Keeping your hand spreading yourself open, your other comes down to rub tight circles over your clit. Turning away your flushed face, you now move your hand to where your thumb rubs your swollen bud and your index prodes at your glistening slit. 

“That's a good girl, so beautiful…keep going for me” 

His words make your mind hazy and your face burns, you hear Miguel fiddling with his clothes letting out soft groans as he whispers filth underneath his breath. He’s touching himself, you can hear his hand rubbing against his heavy length. The sounds of his moaning hums only drive you to want to give him a proper show.

Tracing your slit you tease yourself more before you slip your index and middle finger through your tight walls. The stretch is one you're familiar with but you ache for it to be Miguel's fingers instead. You know that with his large hands he would reach impossibly deep within you. The thought stirs you on more pushing in further into your soft walls getting wetter at the sensation of you fucking yourself for him. 

Miguel's shaky breaths push you further to your peak as you chase that tightening coil within your stomach. Your body shakes with your fevered actions.

Then he sounds as if he’s getting closer to you, his steps echoing through the room. You're begging out mumbling his name in a constant rhythm as you push yourself further and further. Though it's not enough, you need his touch, to feel his burning skin on yours, it’s the only way you're going to reach your satisfaction. 

“Miguel~” you moan, trying to entice him to touch you as you buckle your hips helplessly forward. 

He hums, he's so close to you now, and then his hand suddenly comes down to crease your face. It takes everything in you not to cry out a moan.

“That's it, baby, just like that” Then as quickly as it was there it leaves again leaving you to whine and continue your pursuit to cum. 

Pop

The sudden popping of a champagne bottle causes you to jump, making you stop and turn your head towards the noise. 

The warm heat of his body is radiating next to you again, you reach your hands up blindly searching for him. He grabs your slick-covered hand and brings it to his lips, careful kisses are peppered on your open palm then his slick tongue licks against your delicate fingers. He moans as he tastes your sweet essence, getting drunk off of you. 

Finishing cleaning your fingers he places your hand on his chest. His skin is hot and you feel his heartbeat running rampant through his wide chest. Your body shakes as you slowly run your hands down his body your breath getting labored. 

“Aw, you're shaking. You were feeling good weren't you?” he leans in closer, moving your hand down his abdomen, where you feel his perfect muscles. You trace down every crevice. Your mind is running rampant. You have never touched a man's bare chest before and now your hands are here tracing over Miguel's god-like form. Biting your lip you greedly go lower feeling the v on his narrow hips. 

“I could make you feel even better…” he purrs.

Its then that your hand is met with not the hem of his pants like you thought you would feel, but instead a line of hair. Following the trail, you feel till the hair gets thicker and Miguel's breath gets more ragged. Gasping you know you should stop but you can’t help yourself. As you go lower Miguel drinks from the champagne bottle, relishing in your blind roaming. 

Passing over the trimmed coarse hair you feel his heavy member, thick and throbbing. It feels like it goes down forever as you trace over the vein that runs down the shaft. Miguel hums as you touch him. Soft eyes intently watching as your hand reaches the end. Grasping onto his tip you swipe your thumb over his slit where pearlescent pre cum dribbles out. His hips instinctively buckle forward at your curious touches. 

“Help me Miguel~” you hate your whining but the desperation to be touched by him. 

“Anything for you” 

Then in an instant, you feel his hands roughly on you as they rip your corset and lace slip from your body. Miguel settles himself between your shivering thighs as he quickly throws away the white lace and ruined corset. Your body being bare before him now makes you moan as his hand roams over your soft flesh.

His hand traces lower and lower to your quivering sex, you think you're on fire, brain completely melted into a lust-filled fog as he mumbles things under his breath you can’t understand. 

As you arch and mumble a plea, his large fingers are slipping through your puffy folds finding your swollen clit and rubbing it slowly before flicking it with his index and middle fingers causing you to throw your head back at the delicious pressure.

As he teases your aching sex with one hand his other hand is holding what you assume to be a champagne bottle, you listen as it swishes along with his movements. Then you hear the liquid bob and suddenly his index finger prodes at your entrance making you gasp at the slow stretch.

With your mouth hanging open you feel Miguel's nose on yours then his lips are grazing your lips. Then the sparking taste of champagne is being released from his mouth into yours. You relish in the taste of the champagne as it’s laced with him. 

He repeats the action a bit sloppily the second time, the liquid drips from the corners of your mouth down your neck. 

“More?” he questions and you smile with an instant nod. Satisfied with your approval, he inserts another finger stretching you out wider as he explores your gummy insides, scissoring and curling as he explores you. 

As your head spins a white-hot rush washes over you, sending you reeling in pleasure as your cunt clenches down on Miguel's expert fingers. You're brought back down from the feeling of chilled liquid being poured over your hot body. The liquid slides down your perked breast and then rushes down your squirming body. His tongue is then tracing over the liquid as he sucks and laps at your sensitive skin. 

Wet shlicking sounds of his fingers chasing your orgasm fills the room along with his hums followed by your moans. Your breathless moaning makes you sound like a whore, but it only drives Miguel's desire further as he ruts his aching cock against the cushions of the furniture. He's needy, rubbing his cock while his plush lips latch and suck on your champagne-laced nipples. Twiling and biting the nub between his teeth before moving to the other mound. 

Losing yourself you grind your hips down harder against his hand as he continues to drink the sparkling champagne from your skin.

Finished he tosses aside the bottle, as he slowly moves his tongue lower and lower, seeking every drop on your body till he reaches your hips leaving kisses against them. 

“Spread your legs for me, that’s it my star…wider.” 

As you spread for him his fingers reach that spot within you that has your toes curling, then his lips attach to your swollen clit as his tongue feast upon you. Increasing his rhythm, your panting as your second climax rushes over you making you cry out in blind pleasure. 

Miguel smiles against your cunt as you ride your high on him. Feeling you impossibly wet as your cum rushes out of you, he quickly pulls out his fingers replacing them with his needy tongue as it curls into your hole devouring everything you have to give him. He moves your legs to drape over his shoulders as he keeps eating you out, you're lost in riding your high on him again. His large hands press down on you keeping your squirming body in place as he lifts your lower body as his tongue ravages your insides. 

Hands go from your hips to squeeze your lifted ass as he massages your flesh in his large hands. Once he's done feasting on you he lowers you down. He grinds his strained cock between your folds and you're a muttering mess of want and hiccups.

It's all so much but you can’t help but want more. Then his hand comes over and pulls away your blindfold.

At first, the light is blinding then your vision focuses on Miguel's handsome flushed face, his mouth and chin are shiny from your slick. His eyes are half-lidded as he pants at you. Reaching up you push his loose strains away from his face and he smiles tenderly down at you. 

“I want you to keep those pretty eyes on me, can you do that for me?”  you hum a yes and he leans down and places a kiss on your lips before taking his heavy cock and tapping it on your wet cunt. 

The feeling makes you jump but you keep your eyes on him as he pumps his slick-covered cock as he lines it up to your clenching cunt, begging to be filled by him. Bringing his tip to your entrance he starts to push into your tight slit with a low hiss. The stretch from his girth is at first painful but it then morphs into a skin-tingling ecstasy. You have to fight to keep your eyes open as he pushes in his length inch by inch.

The intrusion makes you moan and dig your nails into his tough skin as he rolls and pushes into you. You're clenching down on him and he's quick to bring his hand to your clit to relax you. Once you're relaxed he pushes in harder till his hips are flushed with yours. 

“That's it mi estrella, it feels good being filled doesn't it?” he quickly moves his hips slightly in and out making you mew out a cry shutting your eyes and his tip rubs your cervix as his balls give a quick slap to your ass. 

Tapping your face you open your eyes back up to see him looking at you with lust-blown eyes. “So sensitive baby, don't worry baby, you're in good hands.” 

Keeping your eyes fixed on him he smiles down at you as he starts to pull out to the tip then slamming back into you filling you up suddenly making your whole body quake. You're clamping down hard on him as he fucks you, his balls slapping your ass every time he slams back into you. He could rip you open if he wanted to, this is him being gentle and you're already hiccuping and bouncing with every thrust of his cock. 

Miguel smiles as he watches your hazy eyes keep on him as your face contours into a silent scream. The pleasure is unlike anything you have felt and you're sure nobody else could ever give you a high like this. Your chest heaves as you try to keep your breath but it's ripped from you with every deep thrust slamming your cervix leaving hot rushes to quake through your body. 

“You are so perfect, so perfect for me.” His eyes are intense and lovesick as he chases his high, he knows you're close and he's making it his mission to have you cum on him again. 

“M-mig” you stutter as his thrust gets deeper and harder as he rolls his hips into you with the perfect pace. His breath beats over your face as he keeps going furrowing his brows and he feels you clamping and getting wetter. He places his hand on your stomach and slightly pushes down making you scream. 

“I know, I know, I got you. Cum on me baby…I'm here with you I got you.” he coos at you and the coil in your stomach is completely ripped apart and you feel your brain break as you whine and clamp down hard on him. He pushes on your stomach harder and your messily cumming on him. The pleasure is unlike anything you have ever felt from your fingers and he's still going. Feeling yourself starting to burn up and your brain fogging you can’t help the tears that flow down from your eyes from the intense rapture you feel in this moment. 

Gritting his teeth, his cock is ruined from your sweet release squirting all over him, and he loves it. Your pussy is overstimulated and gripping him hard as he pounds into you in a fever. Muttering how good you feel on him he throbs as your body starts to shake again. 

Throwing your head back you feel his hot cock burning your insides as it throbs, he quickly pulls his cock out and hot spurts of thick white ropes coat your stomach as a low moan of your name leaves his lips. 

Taking a deep breath you lay there covered in sweat completely spent. Miguel gathers his bearings as he gets up from the couch to find his discarded coat fetching his handkerchief. Getting on his knees he carefully cleans his mess from your tired body. A string of apologies slips his lips as he takes care of you.

Once you're clean he places kisses on your face “Are you okay? Was it too much for your first time?” 

Your glassy eyes shift lazily to him as you give a quiet, “I’m okay, it felt amazing.” 

Miguel smiles and places a kiss on your lips. “My poor star, tired from all of the night's performances. Let's get you home to rest, hm?” 

“Oh,” you say sadly as you watch Miguel dress; he looks over at you confused and concerned that you seem upset. 

“What?”

“Well, I- I was hoping to spend more time with you…I can’t bring boys into the ballet dorms where I stay.”

Miguel's eyes soften as he chuckles slightly, finished getting dressed he grabs your long robe from its hanger and brings it to you. He reaches out for your hand and gently dresses you. 

“You're coming home with me, I told you if you want me, it won't be for one night only. I'm going to take care of you as long as you will have me” 

Finishing tying your robe tightly he smiles gently down at you, “Now let's go home.”

[yona049]

𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 1

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Disclaimer!

This is a story following the events after the Phantom of the Opera (2004) and only follows the movie and not any other adaptations!

Started with this fic a few years ago and finally continued bc I couldn't find any new fic's to read! 🥺

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

(For ambiance~)

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Y/n stood with her feet planted infront of the burning Palais Garnier opera house, the ashes of a once red stage curtain falling on her bare shoulders. The only bit of warmth was the costume she was wearing.

A red fire dancer, her hair still in perfect shape. Tho it seems that the other staff of the Opera house weren't as lucky.

Her home was burning down infront of her eyes, and snow did nothing but usher on the burning flames of rage.

This was the doing of one Phantom of the opera. The damned demon took it all from them, their home, their jobs and even Christine Daaé.

The lead singer and great musician that made Y/n dance like never before, Christine's sweet melody made her feet float inches from the ground as her soul danced in sync with her body.

One shiver crawled up Y/n's spine when she heard an unghastly scream. Her feet simply lept to it, only to find a man crawling out of the burning opera house.

"Monsieur!" she cried out to him.

His face seemed to have already been caught by the fire and he barely wore anything but a shirt and his trousers. Y/n fell to her knees beside his weak body.

"Don't worry, Monsieur, you are out of the fire! Please, be still! You are injured. "

She trembled watching blood force its way through the thin gaps between the snowflakes. Blood still warm enough to melt and merge with ice to water.

In a desperate attempt, Y/n pulls off the bottom part of her dancing grown and desperately looked for the point of injury when she finally found the wound on the calve on his leg.

Tieing it tightly before Y/n hoisted him up to his feet.

"Please lean on me, we need to get further from the flames!"

He didn't speak, only grunted in pain. His voice was deep, without effort as if he was willing to Perish without hesitation.

Y/n took a moment to gently touch his burnt skin on his face, he didn't seem to whine. It was as she thought, the wound was not from the fire that had engulfed many others in its treacherous flames.

She shakes herself awake and quickly focuses on the problem at hand.

"I have strength to carry you, but you'll need to carry your consciousness for a little while longer!" she shutted, her voice swelling with pity for him.

'What happened to this poor soul?' She wondered and dragged his feet though the snow.

Y/n didn't know his name, nor his origin from the opera house. Perhaps a operator for the theater special effects? Or perhaps a member of the audience, sitting among the red velvet seats and nearly getting crushed by the chandelier falling loose from its hinges.

It wasn't long after when Y/n and the other performers were taken to a nearby inn. Perhaps it was the will of a greater power that the Opera managers didn't leave them to rot on the streets. Rather to reclaim insurance funds or come around a lone?

At least, she hoped that was the case. But for the moment, she was afraid of what might happen.

The opera house had been home for the last eighteen years of Y/n's life. No, certainly more!

Her father was a dancer, and her mother's legacy had been lost among the chatter and rumors of the opera.

Y/n's father had passed when she was only ten. Now, she was eighteen years older and she promised to follow in his dancing steps to fame.

Still engulfed in her thoughts Y/n stared into the small oil lamp flames while she sat on the bed of the inn. The figure of a woman danced in the red and orange colors.

This seemed to distract her from the man waking up from his exhausted slumber behind her.

He winced with a grumble when Y/n's head turned to face him. His palm covering the burn on his face that she saw before.

"Monsieur?" she whispered in an effort not to frighten him.

His gaze slowly trailed to Y/n's worried expression, but his palm never left his face.

Y/n took this opportunity to explain their predicament.

"Please, do not be frightened. We're in an inn, the managers have sent us to wait until they can reclaim funds."

She stood up to take the bowl of water and cloth to dampen the burnt flesh on the man's face.

She knelt down beside the bed and lightly lifted the damp cloth to his face. His eyes met hers, but Y/n only stared in silence hoping he'd understand her efforts.

Tho he was hesitant, his palm lightly lifted from his face. She feared the wound was still hissing with pain. Lightly the cloth is placed onto his eye and he gave a simple sigh of relief.

Silence filled the room, it would've seemed like only the stars were their witness if it weren't for the drunken cheers from the bar below.

Finally the man took a breath and spoke.

"What of Christine Daaé? Has she been found?"

Y/n's breathing seemed to betray her when her body couldn't fathom the gentle voice the man muttered. She tried to form words, creating a stutter.

"Y-yes, it um, It seems she has been retrieved by the Viscount Raoul de Chagny. She has offered many services to those who did not escape the flames unscathed." she whispered and willed herself to not look into his captivating eyes.

He looks to the side and gives a simple smile, seeming satisfied with his thought.

As soon as his skin was dampened once more he tried to stand with a gasply hiss of pain.

"Monsieur, please be patient! Your wound is still open and fresh!"

He grits his teeth before taking his seat again but looking back at the fireplace.

The rest of the night remained quiet, like he didn't have need to ask her anymore questions.

An awkward night spent sharing a room with a stranger. He fell asleep quickly with exhaustion.

Y/n couldn't sleep. Things ended so abruptly! How could she? Her love died in the fire, her home, belongings. She had nothing to her name anymore.

Y/n quietly stood up from the bed trying to keep noises to a minimum. Avoiding the creeking floor boards and opening the window to look outside.

The smoke from the Opera house covered the sky, no moon in sight. This quiet moment with her thoughts caused her throat to close up and her eyes to push tears.

As quietly as she could, she tried crying everything out, to no avail. Morning her loss took more than just a moment of soft tears.

"I'm sorry my love, Aloïs, I couldn't save you!"

She whispered. Her lover in the theater house had been burnt in the flames because he pushed her away from falling beams.

"Aloïs?"

She gasped when the voice lurks from behind her caught her off guard. The man stood up from the bed and had walked to right behind her without her hearing him.

"Monsieur! I'm so sorry, did I wake you?"

He shakes his head before spotting Y/n's shivers. Looking back at the blanket on the bed, he grabs it with one hand and swings it across her shoulders.

A gentleman! Y/n wasn't sure many workers from the Opera were quite so kind.

"You knew my Aloïs?"

He nods before leaning on the wall next to the window.

"Indeed, he helped me with costumes, more specifically Masks." The man mumbled folding his arms across his chest.

Y/n quickly realized what he meant when the dim light shone on his burnt face. Aloïs was the lead costume designer for all actors, singers and dancers in the opera. He'd certainly be willing to help a gentleman like the man stood next to her.

With a small giggle she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Of course, Aloïs would do something like that. I'm sorry if I make you uncomfortable without a mask."

He looks at me confused almost relieved that he wasn't the one in trouble for once. That someone genuinely asked if he was uncomfortable instead of rushing him away and out of sight.

"You're apologizing? Mademoiselle-"

"Y/n, please."

He seems to smile before leaning closer and wiping a lingering tear off Y/n's cheek.

"Y/n, my name is Erik."

Small talk lasted for a few more hours until the sun started to rise.

All members of the Opera house were called to the outside of the Inn where Monsieur André and Firmin would enlighten them of the situation.

Monsieur André took the lead standing ontop of the inn balcony.

"Listen all! I'm afraid we have terrible news you will all now be let go from the Opera house!"

A sudden uproar of voices filled the street and Y/n felt my body wobble a little from shock. Erik stood beside her with his hand on the small of my back trying to stabilize her.

Monsieur Firmin then took the lead and explained:

"This was a terrible tragedy! And with the business in shambles we have no hope of reviving it, thanks to our generous sponsor, Viscount Raoul de Chagny, we will be giving out warm clothes to help with your resignation."

They both quickly scurry out of view back into the inn, likely out the back door leaving the crowd in shock and anger.

Y/n bit her lip feeling another wave of sadness overcome her. Quick breathing and a pounding heart for the unknown future that lied before her.

"Fools!" She hears Erik mumble under his breath.

"We must go quickly!" he said grabbing her hand and pulling her through the crowd to the front.

They got their clothes, thanks to Erik for getting them there early enough to take a few extra pieces of clothes.

Even with a wounded leg, Erik managed to take them to a proper alleyway to get dressed in the clothing.

He dressed first, then stood at the front of the ally to let Y/n get dressed keeping a look out.

A gentleman walked by peeping into the alleyway, but Erik growled loudly and with his burnt face scared the gentleman away.

"I'm done!"

Y/n smiled walking out with the costume she wore neatly folded in her arms.

Erik seemed to smile at her for a very small second then it quickly fell away, he brought his palm to cover his face.

"May I?"

He looked at Y/n confused until she gently took his hand and pulled it away.

"This might not be as good as Aloïs's handy work."

She looked down at her costume before quickly ripping off a piece of the skirt. She used the edges to tie it delicately around the side of his face tracing over it.

"You shouldn't have to hide! People are children! Gasping at the first strange thing they see." Y/n declared.

Erik chuckles but only for a second before going back into a smile.

"Perhaps."

He offers his arm which Y/n gladly took. They walked out into the crowded streets.

The sights were great and all the small shops and children seemed so foreign to her. In the Opera house they only had wooden or stone walls with the occasional windows high up in the building. The space of an open sky and streets going as far as the eye could see was a breath of fresh air.

A few hours later, Y/n suddenly realized that neither Erik or herself currently had a place to live, she have no living family to rely on.

Walking around the city for the first time in years distracted her from the dormant thoughts about the trouble we were in.

She looked back at Erik ready to ask him if he has a plan, but his eyes were sparkling. He was bewildered and intrigued by buildings, people, sounds and other sights. Y/n was starting to wonder if he'd ever been outside the Opera.

She felt a smile spread across her face from the warmth radiating off Erik.

"Erik, have you never-"

"Hello little mis!" a voice from behind her.

Three men quickly surrounded them and Y/n felt her body shrink into fear. Her lack of outside experience made her forget about the rats lurking around the city.

"Well, well! Give us a smile! How much?"

Y/n felt one of the bigger men behind her run his hand down her back.

She jump forward from his touch ready defend herself however, Erik pinched her arm tightly between his bicep and torso.

Y/n looked up at him and noticed the grimace clenching of his teeth.

"Now, this is unfortunate, just as I was starting to enjoy the outside." Erik fumed.

The man reaches for Y/n's behind again but this time Erik uses a closed fist to swing right into the man's nose.

He pushed Y/n off to the side, just hard enough for her to delicately hit the wall. She watched while this night old acquaintance fights off three large men with a bit of wood he swooped off the ground.

Using it to jab into the first mans forearm and then kneeing him in the groin.

Erik kicks the second man in the side, and to their luck, the third starts running. Finally all three run at the first sight of blood.

Erik breathes heavily before dropping to a knee with a loud grunt,clutching his injured leg from the fire.

"Erik!" Y/n ran to his side and wormed her arm underneath his arm and around his torso.

"We have to leave before they bring friends." Y/n stammered.

Her eyes dart around to land on a Inn with a tavern at the ground floor. The sun was setting again so soon and the candles of the tavern were lit.

She walked with Erik and quickly made their way inside to set Erik down in the corner of the tavern by a table.

"Oi!" The barkeep yells at us.

"Out!! You don't have no money!"

Looking at their clothes Y/n understood exactly how he knew we had no money to spend.

"Please! This man is injured, we need-"

He interrupts Y/n again.

"No money, no service! Out!"

Y/n bit her lip hard, thinking of anything to pay this man until she got a small shred of an idea.

"I dance!"

This makes the barkeep stop and look back at them. He leaned against the bar and waited.

Y/n realized he wanted an example before she swallowed the lump of pride in her throat.

She slowly pulled her coat off revealing a very inexpensive dress they received from the Managers.

Low cut to account for all bust sizes and too long skirt for all heights of woman in the Opera house. Throwing the coat over Erik she leaned close to his ear to whisper.

"Hold on, I'll get more help and medicine for that leg."

He groans grabbing Y/n's arm, objecting to what he knew she'd do. She felt her heart want to cry at his genuine worry for her pride. She gently lifts his hand off before turning back to the bar keep.

She looked down at her skirt before lifting it and tieing it into a knot showing just above her knees.

The musician with a pocket fiddle in the corner starts playing a rhythmic song and patrons start coming in.

Y/n puts on the best smile she could muster before starting to move her legs and hips.

Y/n felt the gazes of every drunken basted, but worst of all, she felt Erik watching her. Intrigued or Disgusted? She wasn't sure. She hoped for the latter. It was the better of the two.

Moving her hand over a rich looking patrons shoulders before spinning to the bar and smiling at another gentleman.

For what felt like forever, Y/n danced following each rhythm of each song played.

Getting a small tip from some patrons before she stopped and leaned against the bar.

Out of breath with her chest moving up and down rapidly. Another song had ended. She wasn't sure how much longer she could continue, her legs burnt from no warm up before hand like she knew she had to.

The barkeep, more likely the owner of the inn, pushed a glass of water toward her.

"Well done girl! We haven't had this many patrons in a while."

He praised but Y/n growled and reached out to him with an open palm.

"I did my part, I need payment."

The barkeep looks disgusted and Y/n was afraid for a moment he would refuse her payment. Thankfully he reached into his apron pocket and gave her a good hand full of coins.

Before she could pull her hand back he grabbed her wrist and smirked.

"Come back, with a better attitude, and you can make twice as much."

Y/n gritted her teeth looking away knowing its a large possibility she'd need to come back for more payment.

She pulled her wrist back then ran to where she'd left Erik only to spot him with an angry expression.

"Erik?"

She knew it, he was disgusted! She hesitated in front of him. He only managed to lean forward and pull the knot out of her skirt letting it cover her legs again.

He looks away but patted on the seat beside him. Y/n felt her body once again shrink in on itself as she sat beside him.

She took this opportunity to count the coins and realized they had enough to rent a room for the night and for her to go buy bandages and medicine.

Once they were in the room she felt a very strange hole in her heart, she felt like she'd betrayed him. She was sure he'd leave the next chance he got. She basically did what he'd tried to prevent in the first place.

She sat on the bed facing away while Erik used this time to wash up in the wash room and apply the medicine and bandages himself.

"Y/n."

His voice stood out from the muffled cheers downstairs.

His hand traveled to Y/n's and he sat beside her on the bed.

"I'm sorry."

Those small words made Y/n breath a sigh of relief before she felt his arms wrap her into a hug.

She'd never cried in front of anyone or at least she tried to avoid it as much she could, so how is it possible for this man to have seen her cry twice.

His chin rested on her head as she sobbed. It felt like she would never stop. Until Erik started humming. A soft but familiar tune. A song from the Opera house used in one of the famous plays.

It was beautiful, an angel of music. A voice she didn't know she longed to hear. In sleep he sang to her, and in dreams he he came.

Y/n slowly calmed her sobs before her body fell into a limp sleep and exhaustion.

Erik smiled before slowly laying her onto the bed, however she was clenched onto his shirt so tightly, Erik gave in and layed with her on the bed.

He looked at her calm face wondering how she was able to remain so strong though everything, even taking care of him aswell as herself.

Feeling his heartbeat similarly to the first time it did when he saw Christine. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and slowly pulled her into his chest, keeping her covered from all the worldly wrongs.

[tainbocuailnge]

we're told and shown very little of what shalem and phantom's bond was and is like, so there's a lot of ways to interpret it. but personally I think it's a bit of a waste to show them straightforwardly getting along when they're both extremely insane in conflicting ways. the only on-screen interaction they have is shalem reprimanding phantom, and then testing him, and phantom's response is that he'll do something really detrimental to himself if shalem asks. so to go with their first impressions as looming ominous guy and modest nervous guy and portray shalem as losing composure & getting all blushy at phantom's advances doesn't feel right to me.

shalem actually presents himself to doctor as the one you go to when /you/ lose composure. his profile is clearly written by the troupe instead of rhodes HR like everyone else, and it tells you "you don't remember meeting, but you trust him and rely on him," like a command for the situation to develop as such, rather than a report of how the situation developed. his colleagues think shalem is weirdly pessimistic sometimes, but he's capable and reliable. his role as "modest and gentle shalem" requires him to be composed. in those new CN lines where doctor hands him an outfit to put on he doesn't sound embarrassed about it either. I don't think flirtatious attention would get him to blush that easily.

all the glimpses of what he's like outside that role show him as pretty decisive. every instance of breaking character is him being more forceful than his image allows. if something needs doing and nobody is doing it shalem will go "this is stupid why are we letting this happen" and step in. when he loses composure in his oprec he tries to :/ through the pain before getting screaming mad. when he's scared he gets mad too. shalem tries very hard to be a meek person and his life would be easier if he actually was, but he's not. he's mentally stronger than a lot of people including himself give him credit for. he just doesn't like when it's quiet.

and phantom clearly trusts shalem enough to completely submit to his judgement. the one interaction they're shown having is phantom saying he'll sing if shalem wants him to. phantom will explicitly do what shalem tells him to even if he thinks its a bad idea.

his codename may be phantom and his cat's name christine, but lucian is the christine in this situation. he's the young actor kidnapped and forced to sing by his shadowy teachers. they're making him play the phantom of the opera but that doesn't mean he actually is the phantom. shalem is far more like the phantom of the opera than lucian. shalem can't exist without the mask that lets him pretend to be a real person or leave the theater that mask was made for. it's just that his mask is also salome, which makes him extra insane (love) because salome was a no-name normal girl used as a tool in political machinations until she got written into a play that reinterpreted her as insane and a willing participant. so shalem's nightmares try to convince him he actually did want that guy's head on a plate.

phantom's second module says he doesn't see any art in killing despite how much the troupe hyped it up to him, but he works as assassin and went back to kill the troupe. shalem does still see the art in it, but he works in logistics and ran away because he didn't want to kill. we know phantom left after he realized his teachers were villains and that he completely trusts shalem's judgement, so while there's no clear proof it's likely that shalem's betrayal is what inspired phantom to leave as well. everyone in the troupe was raised to look up to lucian, and told that they had no worth if they couldn't make it to his level. shalem didn't have what it took to become like lucian, but that's exactly what made phantom want to be more like shalem.

and again, we know very little of what their relationship was like, or is like now. we know phantom completely trusts shalem, but the only opinion shalem expresses about phantom is "we're certainly similar, but I'd like to stay away from all that" and their only interaction is shalem reprimanding and testing phantom. so it's possible that shalem doesn't like phantom at all, and is only saving him because the situation is stupid and someone has to do something. phantom is the only person who could begin to understand shalem, but shalem doesn't like being seen closely because he's scared he has no "self" behind the act, so phantom understanding him might not be a good thing to shalem.

I think that kind of resentment between fellow survivors is really interesting. they both left, but lucian is still the troupe's favourite while shalem is called a cowardly traitor. even if shalem does get along with phantom, that would still be simmering below the surface right? their experiences were similar, but lucian was the standard that the others were held to, and the punishment for not being able to live up to that standard was death. isn't it a sick joke to have to go back to save the man whose mere existence made yours harder?

phantom knows that he was the bait the troupe used to draw in fresh blood, and he feels deeply guilty over it. so I think his willingness to submit to shalem's judgement is also because he knows he's at least partially to blame for what's wrong with shalem. meanwhile shalem's nightmares taunt him by saying the troupe was wrong and he's a great actor, so I think part of him still wants to prove himself as an actor. he wants to escape the audience in his head, but can't fully let go of the promise of getting to be on the stage either. and while phantom is the more outwardly insane one, he's making new friends and picking up new hobbies in his oprec while shalem has to be in the eternal nightmare vortex. even in rhodes island phantom is the one who actually gets what shalem wants.

so you have shalem, who wants a normal life he can't have because he was raised to be an actor-assassin with no self, and phantom, who is willing to do whatever shalem says to make up for being the symbol used to ruin shalem's ability to live normally.

phantom in general tends to punish himself. he refuses both medical treatment and gratitude until folinic corners him and chews him out. he feels guilty over being a dangerous person to associate with, but also over rejecting the help he is offered in spite of this. he's willing to submit to shalem's judgement and accept any punishment from him, but shalem wants to be normal and just helps him because it's the right thing to do and this whole situation is stupid, but that only makes phantom feel even more guilty. that too is unresolved resentment.

there's a tension between them where phantom repeatedly shows a desire to leave his decisions to others, while shalem desperately tries to take his decisions from the hands of others. there's clear incentive for phantom to just hand all his agency over to shalem, especially if we assume that shalem leaving is indeed what inspired phantom to follow, and depending on how you read the scene it's phantom's willingness to do what shalem says rather than his reluctance to sing that confirms to shalem that phantom is back to usual. phantom through this respect for and trust in shalem gives shalem a lot of power over him that shalem doesn't actually want to have, because the only decisions shalem wants to be controlling are his own.

they certainly are similar, but they cannot recognise themselves in that mirror, because the part of them that wants to be like the other is at odds with their actual desires. phantom left the troupe like shalem did, perhaps even to follow shalem's example, but shows no indication of wanting a normal life. shalem is a valued coworker, and phantom is an elusive mystery that schwarz warns you as someone familiar with the underworld to stay away from. he speaks of guilt and punishment and truth, but not of what comes after, and he's largely dependent on miss christine to be his moral compass. he's making friends and getting hobbies only because miss christine pushed him to. phantom values justice, but struggles to make his own judgements, and seems to reason that since he's already a murderer he might as well keep killing.

shalem meanwhile values normalcy, but doesn't seem to care nearly as much about justice. his reasoning for defying the troupe and letting his target go wasn't that it was wrong to kill, but that the situation was ridiculous and there had to be a different way. what shalem's nightmares taunt him with isn't the morality of his actions, the way phantom stumbles over his words to justify himself in his own nightmares, but whether they were really his actions. violence excites shalem in a way it doesn't for phantom, and he has no hesitance about threatening murder to secure his agency.

so phantom values justice, and he values shalem's judgement, but he appears unaware that shalem doesn't actually share those values. a normal life just generally doesn't require or involve murder. so while phantom is frequently punishing himself out of guilt and is implicitly looking to shalem to deliver some of that punishment, shalem doesn't really give a shit, because he doesn't really want to think about let alone reckon with their pasts at all. what shalem reprimands him for is causing trouble for the doctor.

their relationship is, by virtue of both operating through externally imposed personalities, inherently somewhat out of sync. you might even call it somewhat parasocial. I think there's probably a lot of pity involved too, pity for the one made to chase your shadow, and pity for the one who cannot escape that shadow. as fellow survivors they're the only ones who could possibly understand each other, but their values and priorities don't line up, and so neither do their expectations and images of each other.

but crucially, i think if any moves are to be made between them, it has to be shalem who makes those moves. because phantom wants to leave his choices to others while shalem is far more decisive than he appears and in fact much of shalem's character tension is based in being forced to finally step up and do something. phantom has very decisively put the ball in shalem's court by establishing that he'll literally do whatever shalem says. all of which is a very long way to say. i respectfully disagree with some of the fanart ive seen on twitter dot com lately.

[randomrabbidramblings]

Phantom's "Captain Opera-Beard and the Bumbling Brigands of Toilet Water Bay"

[Opera Beard's design is bound to change, I'm still not sure about his coat and especially his hat]

I've thought about this for a couple of weeks now and it's time to share some things I thought of! There's no real plot and I don't know if I will ever evolve it further than this, but I hope you enjoy it! (if you don't, it's Phantom's fault he wrote it lol)

Opera Beard is said to have lost his heart after some kind of love story and that's why he's seemingly invincible. Voices say to defeat him, you have to put his heart back, so he can become vulnerable again. However, he holds a secret...

Opera Beard isn't properly "dead". He was cursed by one of his past lovers to be a ghost before he lost the heart.

The Pirates under Opera Beard's command aren't cursed. They were some of his old theater crew that stuck with him. Hovever, even if they were around since the beginning of their piracy era and witnessed him getting cursed to his spectral form, even they don't know what happened to the Captain's heart.

Speaking of the heart, it's not really clear what happened to it. Some stories say he lost it because one of his lovers was a witch and she stole it, some others say he purposefully threw it away because of a terrible breakup and some even say it whithered away for the overuse. Without his heart the Captain is said to be invulnerable, so it needs to be put back to defeat him.

One of the Captain's goals is to find a soulmate. He spent his life witnessing all of his lovers drift away from him, be it his fault or the lovers'. He always justifies himself saying he has too much love to give and all of his past flings were too overwhelmed by his affection.

Opera Beard can take a smaller form and manfest legs to disguise himself as a living being, but only during the day. He's still very recognizable though, so to prove he's not the cursed pirate, he can mimic a heartbeat. It's in this form that he will go around on land in search of his soulmate.

In his usual specral form he's interestingly very wary of personal space, however in his "living" disguise he's pretty tactile and physically affectionate. He justifies it as not liking his spectral form and not wanting anyone feel how cold he is.

The Pirates's way to attack other ships is tostalk them in rocky or foggy places, often in the night when the other ship is busy manouvering or finding their way. You know they're right behind you when your sailors stop singing but the song doesn't.

The Pirates are attracted to music even when they're not stalking anyone. It's one of the Captain's only weaknesses.

The Pirates kidnapped Princess Peach of the near Kingdom once. The Captain thought the lady whose pure heart was known around the world, would be the perfect soulmate. What he didn't think was that she had a whole army ready to fight him including a seemingly worthless sailor who was able to kick his ass. Opera Beard wrote a loooong song about this sailor drowining as "revenge".

And lastly the Captain's secret: his heart was never lost. He made up the whole thing as to give himself more of a "cursed pirate" look and to deter people to try and defeat him just after he was cursed with his specral form. His insistence on personal space is an excuse to not let anyone hear his heartbeat while he's a ghost and his "fake heartbeat" of his living disguise it's his actual heartbeat.

[neoflect]

sharing some of my disorganized jojo musical thoughts now that ive had a week to sit on it and ive rewatched it several times over. i intended to wait to publish something like this until a subtitled version was available, but im not seeing any indication that thats happening any time soon so for now youll have to deal with my loose interpretations from my extremely rudimentary and rusty japanese… so take what i have to say about the finer points of characterization with a grain of salt. gratuitous spoilers below obviously, both for the original source material and the changes made in the stage production

my feelings are OVERWHELMINGLY positive. of course there are things i can criticize or that i would have personally done differently but oh man… i have literally not thought about anything besides this fucking show for a week. im 100% confident in saying this is a better adaptation of the source material than the tv anime. sorry to the davidpro staff, i respect their hard work and their love for jojo and their dedication to what is by any metric a pretty difficult property to adapt off of the page, but i dont know if i can ever forgive them for leaving half of the first episode’s storyboard on the cutting room floor in order to fit a standard half-hour tv slot, especially considering that what they cut is some of the really crucial character-building stuff. happily those scenes are not only reproduced in the stage version, some of them are expanded upon!

with the quick disclaimer that i’ve only managed to get my hands on the final 4/14 performance with shotaro arisawa and yoshihisa higashiyama, from what i’ve seen the casting is perfect. i’m sure there’s a rip of the 4/13 performance somewhere (i’ve seen clips) but i haven’t been able to find one… every single performer knocks it out of the fucking park, the cast chemistry is incredible and even the minor characters are loaded with charisma. and mamoru miyano… my god… mamoru miyano i owe you an apology. i was not familiar with your game. of course hes been killing it for decades at this point but i had soured on him a little bit recently because i felt like he was overcast in everything and i just didnt connect with his dnt reinhard at all, so when the casting was initially announced back in august i was underwhelmed, and of course my standards for the dio role in particular were astronomically high… i’ll go more into detail later in the post because i have so so many things to say about dio’s characterization here but mamoru miyano’s performance is like, life-changing. i had impossible expectations and he exceeded them.

sorry if im gushing. i am a hater by nature. its unusual for me to be so thoroughly pleased with something. im not even a musical theater guy. these are strange new feelings for me.

just to balance things out i’ll talk about a couple of the things that didn’t really work for me: first of all, the music is just ok. my initial draft of this post called the music “bad” but three additional viewings later i have warmed up to some of the songs. i don’t know if this is a shortcoming by dove attia as the composer or if it’s just me, as i said i’m not a musical guy and a lot of the genre conventions of musical theatre are not really the things i look for in music that i enjoy, but like… even at their worst they are serviceable. nothing here is sonically unpleasant to me. high points are “resolve of the ripple” (zeppeli’s hamon training song, a jazzy swing number - it’s simply catchy and fun to listen to) and the closer “phantom blood” (a sweeping ballad that reprises the earlier “light and darkness”/”golden spirit” leitmotifs into an epic duet between jonathan and dio as they join hands and walk off into the darkness together… made me cry! i wont lie! on every single one of my numerous viewings this one got me misty eyed!)

wait i forgot this is supposed to be the part where i’m being critical. ok my most loathed song in the musical is “dio’s world”. sorry dio nation. it doesn’t really work for me. i think this might be a case of my standards/expectations being too impossibly high because it’s not even really the worst song in the whole thing. and of course miyano eats it up so it’s not really his fault. i just find it kind of underwhelming… i find the melody a little grating, it’s kind of just a generic rock number, it’s just missing a particular je ne sais quoi…. the essence of dio isn’t there… lyrically though i am obsessed with the premise of dio recruiting his minions by selling himself as a kind of social revolutionary who is upending and inverting the brutal hierarchy of post-industrial victorian society with zombie blood magic. you win some you lose some.

the second sticking point for me is the costumes. they’re perfectly serviceable… adequate… but i mean when it comes to jojo “serviceable” and “adequate” costume design obviously falls well below what’s expected, right? a lot of the outfits have kind of a boxy, almost flat-looking kind of unflattering fit on the actors, which if i wanted to be generous i could attribute to the challenge of bridging the gap between these frail slender musical theater twinks and the two-meter-tall 250lb roided-out beefcakes theyre meant to be embodying. (bearing this discrepancy in mind a lot of the insane martial arts stuff in the second act doesn’t really land with the oomph that it should, but i also understand logistically why this kind of casting is not practical, and all things considered i think shotaro arisawa does a really incredible job of embodying jonathan joestar even though he kind of looks like i could snap him in half over my knee like a twig. he’s very cute. so i’m not mad about it.) of course, again, logistically, i understand that in a stage musical production, where actors only have minutes to complete costume changes, some sacrifices have to be made to the creative vision in the name of practicality. nevertheless this is jojos bizarre adventure!! i want to see some fucking baubles!!!!!!

which is all to say that… after carefully considering it for some weeks… i still have extremely mixed feelings about dio’s grink ass feather bathrobe look. it’s not that i dont think its something he could wear (the concept of dio lounging around in his gothic vampire palace doing re-animator style body horror experiments on the local wildlife in this “officer i have no idea what happened to my husband”-ass nightgown is nothing short of hysterical to me) but then he wears it into combat and i felt a little disappointed… it has the same unflattering fit issue as the other outfits in the show, and it is just such an un-araki-like design… where are the gaudy color combinations? the bizarre geometric patterns? the tease of an exposed boob/thigh/midriff? erina gets a stage-original dress design that i have fewer issues with because the excessive pleats and ruffles have more of an araki-esque sensibility, but every time i look at dio’s robe it feels like there’s something missing.  i’m going to choose to be nice about it because it’s not at all a deal breaker and, again, mamoru miyano devours the look. it’s fine. it’s always fun to have a new dio outfit. if anything, the fact that the blu-rays are being marketed as “2024 cast version” gives me hope for the possibility of a future production with a new vision for the costume design. (although the fact that this was such a difficult production - with stunts and pyrotechnics and moving setpieces - that its entire first week was cancelled indicates to me that the prospects for a future production from a different company are impossibly slim. i guess there’s always hope?)

in terms of the writing and the changes that were made from the original narrative, honestly i don’t really have an issue with anything that was cut. sorry if there are any diehard stans of Poco’s Unnamed Sister out there who are steamed that their favorite minor late phantom blood character got the axe, i kind of understand how you feel because i’ve been malding over david pro cutting the Danny Lore for eleven years, but i think it was the right choice and the story flows so much better. the real juicy meat at the core of phantom blood as a narrative and the thing that brings it head and shoulders above so much of the rest of jjba is the character-driven drama - that deliciously pulpy victorian gothic family tragedy - and the relationship between jonathan and dio. the musical beefs up the character drama and slims down the action-driven second half by trimming out the extraneous battles. the only real downside i see to this is that the absence of tompetty and his prophecy makes zeppeli’s arc and death feel INSANELY abrupt, but tbf that’s not a deal breaker for me. sorry zeppeli. you were born to die.

okay. okay. i think 1500 words into the post is enough fucking around so let’s talk about the real reason why you and i both know we’re here

musical dio is SO fucking sad. he’s positively wretched, you guys. he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone and forced to eat cement when he was six. he cries even more than he does in the source material and even when he’s not crying he frequently delivers his lines as though he is moments away from bursting into tears. back when the musical first opened i was snooping on the reactions on jpn twitter and one commenter said they could see miyano’s tears and snot from the nosebleeds even without opera glasses, a remark i initially assumed was hyperbole but that i now think probably was not. araki’s dio is certainly tortured and a deeply pathetic crybaby beneath all the cruelty and posturing, but changes in the musical and miyano’s embodiment of the character bring this pathos to the fore. he is literally haunted: dario’s ghost lingers, a manifestation of all of dio’s traumas and insecurities that emerges from the recesses of his memory to taunt him with the reminder that he will always be his father’s son, all the way up until the very minute that jonathan breaks down the door to his vampire lair. i am OBSESSED with this - not only for the obvious reason that i delight in dio’s suffering personally but also because kong kuwata is a delight and he fucking kills it every time. also lends itself to a category 10 leitmotif moment at the top of the second act when dio emerges from the charred ruins of the joestar estate singing dario’s theme and calling out to jonathan - if i had to pinpoint this is probably the moment when this musical stuck for me as the Real Deal. they Get It.

the first solo number in the show is dio’s disney princess I Want song (amazingly, simply titled “dio”) where he weeps for his late mother and his wretched lot in life, and then - in a creative decision that made me clap my hands and hoot and holler at my screen in real life - there is a reprise of this number (delivered, naturally, through tears) when dio is almost arrested for murder and decides to become a vampire instead. so there’s this amazing hopeful uplifting inspirational orchestral music accompanying the onstage action of dio ruthlessly slaying jonathan’s dad and then getting pumped full of lead by a bunch of cops. it is brilliant. 10/10 no notes. it’s moments like this that i think really sell the “softening” of dio in the stage version for me, even though i am historically Not A Fan of fanworks that take a similar angle - like, yes, he is sad, but specifically he is narcissistically obsessed with the spectacle of his own suffering, he is boiling over with bitterness and rage for everyone around him who (by his own estimation) could never hope to have suffered as much as he has. this sensitivity and self-pity he wallows in are not expressions of a guilty conscience or a desire to change - they’re entirely the opposite - every cruel and monstrous deed dio commits is always justified to himself because he is simply the saddest little boy who has ever existed. he has been done wrong by the world and so there is no limit to the depravity he may reasonably respond with. i’ve seen several commenters describe this as a drastically different interpretation of the character from araki’s dio (and someone told me on twitter that mamoru miyano himself has also said this, but i cba to go digging for an actual source so take it with a grain of salt?), but i… dont think thats the case! dio’s obsession with his own weakness and his self-perception as the eternal underdog (as compared to jonathan) are certainly more exaggerated in miyano’s performance, but i don’t think this is an angle to the character that’s been manufactured out of whole cloth. the genre conventions of the stage musical force the melodrama up to eleven and dio’s incredibly repressed angst is the most rich vein to mine for that. hair-trigger sadist dio is still here, it’s the same guy, he’s still killing people mercilessly, you’re just getting to see him sing a big ballad about his feelings instead of confining those to an internal monologue.

if anything, the exaggeration of dio’s pathetic/cowardly/crybaby traits combined with his megalomaniacal aspirations and bottomless well of cruelty is just right. it’s perfect. fucking around, finding out, and then trying to weasel his way out of the consequences with crocodile tears just so you don’t see him drawing his knife to cut you clean open… yeah. thats the stuff. thats my one true blorbo. sad to say i will love him for ten thousand years.

i think that might be all i have to say… or at least all i feel like saying here… most likely ill come back and edit this post later. i certainly have some additional thoughts and some more esoteric/controversial takes but they’re not suited for a public blog. real ones will understand. im keeping my eyes peeled for somebody to translate this thing but to be frank i am kind of enjoying this little corner of fandom as it is right now: just the asians and the true hardcore phantom blood phreaks. i have not had this much fun in jojo fandom in almost a fucking decade. as soon as somebody publishes an english version my timelines going to get flooded with all the most deeply annoying “kono dio da” “speedwagon waifu” reddit guys and 15 year olds and my suffering will proceed. unfortunately this is my lot in life and i am doomed to be here forever because dio put a worm in my brain

[charmwasjess]

I saw The Phantom Menace last night (in an empty theater!! after a couple beers!!!! my life is complete) and now I'm coming to you with the most rancid-ass takes!! Let me first just say that it was so beautiful to remember the core message of that film: Qui-Gon Jinn Is a Problem

Not in a bad way!! Let the man be a problem!! He's thriving, flourishing in his role as one! The sheer multi-second "this bitch" look between Mace and Yoda after Qui-Gon interrupts arguably the largest intergalactic crisis in a decade including the removal of a Supreme Chancellor and reemergence of the Sith to talk about some kid he met and ramble about the prophecy again. Obi-Wan's multiple, failed attempts to get his Master back on track. "Don't defy the Council, Master - NOT AGAIN!" The sheer pleading in that last part. "I'm not allowed to train you, Ani" proceeded by him going into a training lecture on the Force and then taking him into battle at his side like a Padawan. FOURTEEN YEAR OLD PADME sitting there being the only adult in the room going "hey, maybe don't bet MY ship on a 9 year old's street racing when we're in the middle of a desperate mission that relies on me getting back to Coruscant to tell everyone my planet is being invaded and people are being killed!"

Seriously, straight up half the screentime in that film is people doing a doubletake at Qui-Gon's big ideas and going "what the fuck did you just say" while he gazes serenely into the middle distance, thinking about something else, and I'm so here for it. Never change, king.

[vodika-vibes]

Speechless - A Gryffin Industries Story

Summary: Echo can’t sleep, due to nightmares and phantom pain, so he goes to take his mind off things in the gym. While he’s there, he becomes reacquainted with an intern who has the voice of an actual angel. And Echo is smitten.

Pairing: Pre-ARC Trooper Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1457

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: The song that the reader is singing is Speechless, the spotify link is there.

Echo sighs as he rubs the juncture where his prosthetic arm meets his flesh arm. He’s not unused to phantom pain, the ache is familiar at this point, but that doesn’t make it any easier to sleep through.

The fact that the phantom pain is always accompanied by horrific nightmares means that Echo’s a bit less willing to try and sleep at the moment. 

He lays in his bed for a moment, and then he sighs and sits up.

If he can’t sleep, then he might as well get up and do something. At this time of night, there probably isn’t anyone in the gym. Maybe if he physically wears himself out the nightmares won’t suck as badly.

He swings his legs out of his bed and crosses over to his closet to pull a set of exercise clothes out of the drawers. 

Echo has been an employee of Gryffin Industries for close to 9 months now. And he’s been an actual working employee for almost 6 months. It took him three months to recover enough to be able to actually work. 

And he’s happy.

He is.

His twin brother is here, though he works as a personal guard for one of the doctors rather than as regular security like Echo. Also, there are a lot of his brothers here. Even Rex works here now, and Echo gets to see his brothers almost every day.

Add in the fact that he makes a very nice paycheck, and gets the finest armor and the best medical care on Coruscant…and he really has nothing to complain about.

And yet he’s not happy.

Echo opens the door to his room and steps into the hall, before turning to the left to head to the elevator that will take him to the gym.

His therapist says that he just needs time to adjust, that his feelings are normal, but Echo’s not so sure. They don’t feel normal. He steps into the elevator and leans against the wall as it goes down.

And then, when the door dings open, he steps into the dimmed hallway leading to the gym. Normally this part of the Gryffin Industries complex would be filled with laughter and the sounds of weights clinking together, but at the time of night, even the most keen vod’e are either sleeping or working.

Echo will be alone.

It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.

He heads down the hall, and then he slows to a stop. He hears something. Echo tilts his head to try and listen better, and then turns down a side hall. One of the halls that leads to one of the myriad of simulation rooms. 

As he follows the noise, he realizes that he’s hearing someone singing.

Echo follows the voice through the halls, until he comes to one of the smaller sim rooms. Carefully he pushes open the door to the room, and he has to blink twice at what he sees.

The singer, a young woman who looks vaguely familiar, turned the room into a theater, and she’s standing on a stage singing and dancing. And she’s good.

Better than good.

She’s amazing.

He folds his arms and leans against the wall, a small smile crossing his face as she continues singing. 

Now that he’s able to see her clearly, he realizes that he does know her. She’s one of the interns in Weapons Development. He’s had several conversations with her over the last couple of months. She’s quiet and shy. Very reserved.

The daughter of some of the Doctors who work higher up, if he remembers correctly. 

He never imagined that she could sing like this.

The song comes to an end, and she stops moving. Her chest is heaving and her face is flushed…and Echo’s never seen a more stunning sight in his life.

He brings his hands together and she starts, her head snapping up to look at him. She looks deeply uncertain for a moment, before she crosses the stage, and over to the control panel.

A touch of a few buttons, and the theater vanishes around them, leaving her standing on a stark platform, and him leaning against the white walls of the sim.

“Oh…Corporal.” She carefully steps off of the platform and takes several hesitant steps towards him, “I…ah…”

She won't meet his gaze, and Echo realizes, with a start, that he needs her to look at him. He needs those pretty eyes focused on him or he might just die.

He takes a step closer and leans slightly to the side so that she’s looking at him, “That was beautiful.” Echo praises, honestly, “You have an amazing voice.”

Her eyes snap to his face, and she presses her hands against her cheeks, “Oh, thank you!” Her voice is quiet, but she sounds pleased.

“And the fact that you can sing and dance at the same time is even more amazing.” Echo continues, thrilled now that her eyes are on him. “You must have worked hard to be able to do that.”

There’s a flush of pleasure on her face, “When I can’t sleep, I like to come down here and practice.” She ducks her head slightly, “I’ve never been caught before.” She admits.

“Well, I can’t imagine that anyone else comes down here late at night.” Echo agrees, “I’m only down here because I can’t sleep.”

She smiles at him, and Echo flashes a grin right back at her, though he only has two thoughts in his head. One, he would burn Coruscant down if it meant that she never stopped smiling at him, and two, he’s so karked.

“Well,” Her voice is light and it pulls Echo from his thoughts immediately, “I’m not supposed to be down here. Not really.”

“Why not?”

“Ah, well-” She trails off, “Mother and Father think that I should focus on my studies. They think that the Simulation rooms are a waste of my time.”

Echo pauses, “To have a sim saved, you have to use an ID-”

Nervously she pulls an ID out of her pocket. An ID belonging to someone who clearly isn’t her. “I made a fake. Please don’t tell! I’ll stop coming-”

“You don’t have to stop coming,” Echo interrupts, “You enjoy singing and dancing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

She brushes some of her hair off of her sweaty face, “Well, music has always been my passion. Ever since I was a small child.” Her smile is small, “But mother and father never approved.”

“Why didn’t you go to school for music then?” Echo asks, stooping to hand her a water bottle that he hadn’t noticed until that moment.

She takes a sip of the water, “Well, mother and father paid for my schooling, and…” She sighs, “I love my parents, Corporal-”

“Echo. It’s…just Echo.”

“Echo, then.” She corrects with a slight nod, “Like I said, I love them. They’re just stubborn. And, I guess, a part of me is worried that they’d disown me if they knew that I’m not a science person like them. Like my siblings.”

Echo doesn’t say anything for a moment, there’s not really anything to say. She knows her family best, after all. And then he glances at her, “You know, that song didn’t sound familiar at all.”

“Well, that’s because I wrote it.”

“You wrote-?” Echo blinks at her, “Holy shit, just how talented are you?”

She giggles and ducks her head, “Thank you.”

Echo stares at her for a moment, and then he grins, and hurries over to the panel on the wall, reloading the most recent sim. The theater blossoms around him, and he motions for her to join him on the stage.

“What are you doing?”

Echo grabs his comm and hops off the platform, as he turns on the camera, “Go on, sen’ika. Sing.”

“What? I can’t…if my parents-”

“The only person going to see this is me. And maybe some of my brothers.” Echo says, and then he winks, “Trust me, sen’ika. We’re experts at keeping secrets.”

She drops her gaze for a moment, and then, slowly, she nods. “Okay, Echo. You win.”

“I always do.” He replies smugly. “And then, tomorrow, we can go on a date.”

“...what?”

He just grins at her unrepentantly, “A date. You and me. We’ll get ice cream, it’ll be fun!”

“You don’t even know me.” She says, exasperated.

“Not yet, that’s what dating is for.” Echo grins, “Come on, sen’ika. Give an old clone a chance.”

“You’re hardly old.” She replies, before she crouches to start the music, “but, yeah. Okay. It does sound like fun.”

Echo’s grin widens, and he lifts his comm, “Come on, Sen’ika. Give me a show.”

[spicyboelives]

i just came across your phantom art and it has infiltrated my bloodstream….…. i am now Addicted, it’s SO good. which is i’ve come here to humbly ask……. would you please give us some lore/backstory for your version of the story……. (if not that is okay, have a good day 🦉)

Sure! I only have a few points though, as the majority of the story would stay the same.

Firstly I think Meg Giry and Christine (hes trans and he kept his OG name) would still be thick as thieves, though her characterisation would be more true to the books. So a bit spoiled and rowdy but well meaning.

Erik would be envious of their friendship, but as hes protective of the theater and to an extent the younger dancers I doubt he'd be aggressive to her.

Eriks disposition here is closer to Charles Dances portrayal than Gerard Butlers. As he truely feels he has 0 chance (like the probablity of him sucessfully getting someone to look past his features AND be gay with him is low in his opinion). Though he would be fiercely over protective and seethingly jealous when Raoul showed up- (Raouls is chill but would run the risk of outting Christine).

Christine for his part, would likely be jumping all over this sewer dwelling man. From his POV hes given him a ton of attention, skills to advance his career, and i dont think would be put off from the mask or scars at all. Given that he often has to hide his true self out of fear of others reactions too.

Im pretty sure in the orginal story theres a ton of metaphors about Christine comings of age as a young woman but imo im skipping that and just pushing the metaphors moreso in the direction of: sextuality/societal expectations/class privileges and ✨friendship✨.

&Evertime Erik sings to Christine its with a sicknass electric guitar but when he sings to others he uses traditional instruments.

This is to signify how their relationship would be considered out of place & unaccepted in their time period, though never the less it is sick as fuck

[pansy-chic27213]

July Redraw Challenge 2024: My Old MLP OC 🖤🌑

My old MLP OC was really just a mashup of Danny Phantom and Shadow the Hedgehog, so I wanted to give him more defined characteristics and personality. Now he has an actual backstory and special talent! I’m pretending his old design is from when he was a younger guy, before he found his cutie mark. (The star is a sticker, I guess)

He comes from the Fall family (originally the Fell family), who are like the goths of the Equestria world. His mom would be Night Fall, but I’m not gonna draw her right now. This goth-ness is why everyone in his family has a pretty dark, monochrome color palette. Unfortunately, Shadow grew up to be very large, and his dark colors made other ponies a little wary of him (he does unfortunately look a lot like how people remember King Sombre). He became more quiet and reserved as he grew older, focusing on his special talent - shadow puppeteering!

His wings have incredible dexterity in his feathers, allowing him to make surprisingly detailed shadow figures. He also cuts figures out of paper for more detailed story-telling. He runs a small traveling theater to do shadow-puppet versions of famous plays, but he also does educational shows, like at libraries and schools.

[agentofteamvaliant]

Musicals Aren't Supposed to Have Encores | Luke Dunphy x fem!reader

Based on season 4 episode 14 of Modern Family: "A Slight at the Opera."

Warnings: None? Two eighth-graders kiss a few times... does that need a warning?

Word count: 2,052

Summary: Luke and Y/n step up to new roles in "The Phantom of the Opera" performance their middle school is presenting. Cam doesn't know what to do when the audience calls for an encore at the end of the show.

A.N.: Notes vs notes became a very hard thing to keep track of while writing this. Because I had notes, as in musical notes that you sing or play. And notes, as in theatre notes, directions as to what to do, and ideas of what needs to change. The struggle of being both a music kid and a theatre kid is real.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"What do you mean Genevieve is sick?" Cam exclaimed to the girl's mother over the phone, "First our Phantom falls ill, and now our Christine? Does the world think our theater department is filled with actors?... No, of course, I'm sorry. I hope she feels better soon."

Theatre never goes exactly as planned. You're bound to have bumps along the way. Cam was prepared for that. He had backup props and backup lavaliers. What he hadn't prepared for was for both his Phantom and his Christine to get sick.

Having already found and lost hope in having Luke play the Phantom, Cam felt he was running low on ideas and patience. So, he turned to his assistant director/stage manager: Y/n.

"Well, Y/n. What do you think?" Cam asked.

"About which?" she replied, "We've got a couple problems right now."

"Either. Any. All. I don't know," he was obviously at the end of his wits.

"I think that you should show Manny the video you have of Luke so that he can see what you want him to be doing," she offered.

"Alright," Cam agreed, calling Manny over to watch the recording, "And what about Christine? I hate to say it, but Genevieve was the only soprano we had who could--"

"Luke has to do it," Manny cut in, before rushing off to undo the damage he had done.

"Well, that solves that problem," Y/n said cheerfully.

"I doubt any of them even know all the words, let alone the right notes, the right timing..." Cam trailed off, "Luke could you run 'The Phantom of the Opera,' please?"

"The whole show?" Luke asked, surprised.

"No, the song," Cam clarified with an exasperated shake of his head that looked much more like Mitchell's mannerisms than his own.

"Uh, sure, yeah. I don't know my cue without Christine's part, though."

"Y/n, could you sing Christine's parts until I figure out a replacement?" Cam requested turning to her.

"Well, I don't normally... but I guess I could... I do know the words, and the notes, and the timing and blocking... Sure." She replied.

The two walked over to the piano to practice. Y/n hadn't gotten more than four lines in when the whole theater was staring at her. Cam realized that maybe his Christine had been hiding in plain sight just like his Phantom. Her vibrato was perfect. Her voice paired perfectly with Luke's. Y/n and Luke looked up shocked when the entire ensemble came in perfectly on cue to find that Cam was conducting them like a choir. Y/n smiled at Luke, as they turned so the entire cast was rehearsing together. When they got to the part where Christine climbs up in notes, everyone's jaws hung open. Y/n herself was a tad surprised at how cleanly the notes came from her chest. Sure she loved to sing. Sure she had practiced this entire musical what felt like a million times. But to hear it in a theater. To hear how creepy her friend Luke could sound, perfectly portraying the Phantom. To hear the song all around her. It felt unreal. Especially when she got to the E6. She knew that for Genevieve they had lowered it, but she also knew that she could hit it. So, she ditched the note Cam had given the original Christine and chose instead to follow the regular notes of the song.

"Y/n," Cam started once the song was over, "You need to play Christine. Your voice is perfect. You know all the directions I gave. You understand what I'm trying to do with this show. Please, we need you as Christine."

"Okay, okay," she replied quickly.

They were very lucky that the costumes, which had been brought in for different actors, fit Y/n and Luke almost perfectly. Everything after casting Y/n had been rushed chaos. She had called her mom to bring her a pair of white heels since the original shoes didn't fit. But she neglected to tell her mom why she needed the shoes, simply insisting that the show sounded amazing and her family just had to come. Standing backstage, Y/n and Luke were talking while she used safety pins to shorten his cape. They didn't exactly have a replacement stage manager after all and she had offered to continue with both roles.

"You look really pretty," Luke commented as she stood up and handed him his pinned cloak.

"Thank you," she replied, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks, "you should wear suits more often, you look quite dashing. I'd lose the mask though, your face is too cute to be covered."

Now it was Luke's turn to blush. He knew that Y/n was good at flustering people, of course he did, they had been best friends for years and she was his long-time crush, but he had never found himself on the receiving end of her flattery.

"Hey!" She called out quietly to one of their castmates, "That's not where that prop goes. Go put it on the prop table where it belongs."

"You know we're supposed to kiss, right?" Luke asked when Y/n turned back to him.

"Yes," she answered, "Poor Genevieve and Marcus, do you think that's why they're both sick? They had to kiss so much in rehearsal."

"Oh yeah, poor things, they had to kiss someone over and over again," he said, sarcasm dripping off every word.

"Careful," Y/n chided, "I'll kiss you over and over again."

"Like that's a threat," Luke snarked, before remembering who he was talking to, the confidence leaving him at once, "--I mean, we should probably practice at least once. Just, so we're on the same page. Know what to expect."

"Hmm, probably," she said slowly, before grabbing his hand and pulling him toward her.

Y/n kissed him gently, sweetly. And then it was over, and Luke decided he would do whatever it took to be able to kiss her again.

"Alright," Cam called, all the actors gathering around, "Uh... Luke, Y/n if I could talk to you for a moment after we're done. Alright, everyone, this is going to be great, there's nothing more we can do at this point. I know we've had a few hiccups, but I think we've come out stronger. So, good luck. Just, don't think about the audience. Be loose, speak clearly and enunciate, and have fun. Break a leg!"

When he had dismissed everyone else, Y/n and Luke walked over to Cam.

"Ah, good," he began, "I just want you to know how proud I am of you. And I wanted to make sure you didn't have any questions. Last minute confusions?"

"Nope," Luke said.

"None," Y/n confirmed.

"Good, good. And the kiss, I know we didn't talk about it. You're both alright with it?"

"Yep."

"Yes. We made sure to go over that with each other. We're on the same page. We know what to expect," she clarified, smiling at Cam, before looking at Luke with what he swore was a smirk.

"Wonderful. Then I'll go introduce our show, and we will begin," Cam said before leaving with a flourish.

The show was going perfectly. The audience was already captivated and they were only five songs in. When the iconic opening notes to "The Phantom of the Opera" began to play Y/n could feel people shift in their seats. She felt the pressure to perform the song well but didn't find herself nervous. One glance at Luke told her he felt the same way. Hearing how their voices melded together perfectly, Y/n was filled with giddy happiness. She couldn't have really explained it, but it pushed her further. When she began her climbing notes they were even stronger than they had been earlier.

They had taken an intermission between the two acts, and Y/n was enjoying some lemon honey tea, while a speaker next to her played "Something to Believe In" from Newsies. Luke was sitting in a makeup chair, across from her with his own cup, fidgeting as prosthetics were being applied to his face. In between taking sips of tea, the two were softly singing along to their favorite musical number, causing the poor kid trying to do Luke's makeup to continuously snap at him for moving his head.

"And if I'm gone tomorrow"

"What was ours still will be"

"I have something to believe in"

"Now that I know you believed in me."

Out in the audience, Haley had arrived during intermission and was now entering the theater with everyone else.

"I left the house as soon as I got your text," Haley exclaimed to Alex, "I can't believe Luke is playing the lead!"

Backstage, Cam called quietly: "Curtain's up again in five! You're doing great, y'all!"

Finally, they were reaching the end of the play. Alex was clinging to Haley's arm, practically holding her breath. By that point she had all but forgotten that her brother was playing the Phantom, having become deeply invested in the story. Not until Christine was standing, turning the Phantom to face her, did Haley lean over to Alex to whisper: "Can you believe that's Luke?"

Then, Christine kissed him.

"Oh my gosh," Alex exclaimed lightly to her sister, "They like each other."

"Who?" Haley replayed, "The Phantom and what's-her-name?"

"No, Luke and Y/n."

"Oh, yeah, duh. They have for years."

Then, Christine was kissing him again.

The curtain came down and then raised again, leaving the cast to bow. They led the audience in applause to the sound crew, the lighting crew, the musicians, and then Cam who joined them on stage. The curtain went down again, but the audience's applause didn't die down with it, rather it picked up. A few parents in the audience called for an encore, and soon the entire theater joined in.

"We don't have an encore," Cam quickly whispered to the cast, "Musicals aren't supposed to have encores. But they seem to really want one, does anyone have anything?"

"We do," Luke said, looking at the girl next to him.

"We do?" Y/n questioned, her eyebrows raised.

"Sure, 'Something to Believe In,'" he told her, before turning to Cam, "From Newsies."

"Are you sure?"

"We know the whole thing by heart," Y/n assured him.

Cam walked out in front of the curtain.

"Well, ladies and gentlefolk. You asked for an encore, so an encore you will receive," as Cam spoke, Manny ran to tell the pianist what the encore would be.

Cam continued, "But first, I'd like to thank my terrific cast for getting over humongous hurdles, especially my incredible leads, who only stepped into their roles today, having previously not been a part of the cast, but the crew. And who, just now, pulled an extra song out of their hats, like theatre magicians,"

He looked at the pianist asking, "We're ready?"

The pianist confirmed he was, indeed, ready.

"This is 'Something to Believe In' from Newsies," Cam said with a smile, before walking off stage.

The curtain had risen again, revealing that the mobile set pieces had been removed. There stood Luke and Y/n, the former of which had changed slightly: he had ditched his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, messed up his hair, and was standing so the audience could only see the normal side of his face. Their plan was to run the scene from first line to exit, and that's exactly what they did.

Sitting in the audience, Alex and Haley quietly squealed to each other. For years, they had been having monthly movie nights, just Haley, Alex, Luke, and Y/n. And each month, they watched one of four movies. Newsies being one of those movies. They had often joked that Y/n was like Katherine, joining another family. And each time "Something to Believe In" would start, someone would say it must be one of the best love songs ever, and the rest of the kids would agree.

Boy, did the two actors have fun with it. The nudging, the kiss. The playful looks turned to silent flirting. Everything they wanted to do in their own lives, and the song required all of it. When the curtain lowered for the final time, the audience erupted in cheers. Backstage, Cam ran to Y/n and Luke, engulfing them in a hug only a proud director/uncle could give.

I don't own Modern Family or any of its characters/plots. I don't own The Phantom of the Opera or any of its characters/plots/songs. I don't own Newsies or any of its characters/plots/songs.

[phinkstotallywould]

INCOMING RANT: maybe spoilers for some people,

I reappeared like a sleeper agent

So…. I…. I just did a catch up with the hxh manga. I don’t know who these people were specifically, or what that note said… But I’m angry now. the Phantom Troupe were so close to being the worlds greatest theater kids, till they were broken. And now my whole ass heart hurts. This is a play by play of my rant to my friends in the discord. It was a very mild and light reaction, as you can probably tell.

Chrollo reminded me of Gon, so much so that it hurt my heart. Look at the hope in this kids eyes. LOOK AT IT!!!!!!

GOOFY!!! ASS!!! CINNAMON!!!! ROLL!!!

THE SWEETEST KID OF THE BLOCK!!!!

And Uvo’s goofy ass hair!!!!!

PHINKS HAD A GUMBY!!!

AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON WITH FEITAN’S HAIR!!!!

I need more of them as children, it makes me happy…. But also extremely sad.

Thank you all for coming to my Ted talk.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Pairings: None

Word Count: 2,552 Words

Summary: The five times the daycare attendants killed an innocent Eclipse.

Warnings: Death, Murder, Child Murder, Mild Robot Gore, Child Endangerment, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Fire, Panic Attack, Trauma, PTSD, Angst, Fluff, Sibling Bonding, let me know if I should add anything else.

The Six Eclipses

1: Annulus

The first time was the simplest. The orange and black bot woke up with no memory at all in a ball pit? Yes, the colorful round shapes meant this was a ball pit. He clawed his way out of it and giggled when the balls exploded around him as he surfaced out of the ball pit.

The animatronic decided he’d rather play, moving the balls around and playing with them, giggling the whole time. What was his name? He liked Annulus. He liked the sound of the name. He loved the nickname Annie especially.

Annulus peeked up over the castle wall as he heard voices and he watched two animatronics talking, holding onto the foam wall and smiling at the two. They looked like him and they registered to his systems as Sun for the gold and yellow one and Moon for the blue and silver one. Annulus only got alarmed when the both of them got startled seeing him.

“Moon! Moon!?” Sun screamed at the blue animatronic and Annulus cocked his head to the side in confusion as to why they were scared. Annulus looked back to see if something was behind him. But Annulus didn’t see anything behind him. Annulus looked back at the two other animatronics only to be face to face with a barrel pointed right to his face.

“Wha-” Annulus didn’t have the time to fully get the word out of his mouth before Moon fired off a laser from the barrel and Annulus’ body fell backward into the ballpit with steam rising from the scorched neck pipe where the circular head frame was missing, wires and all.

----------

2: Penumbra

The second time he woke up with a gasp, hands feeling over his face as he remembered the last memory he had. It was a sudden flash of pain in just his head and explosion levels of heat. That life was Annulus’, but it wasn’t his own. Not this one.

He decided he would be different. His name would be Penumbra. Penny. He liked that one. Penumbra loved that name. It was cute. He was glad to not be in the ball pit, it made him terrified that he could’ve felt that again. It was scary.

Penumbra was in a pretty starry sky, it was gorgeous. This looked like indoors though, that was the ceiling!? The ceiling was so pretty! Penumbra giggled seeing it, looking over the dark pretty indoor sky. Penumbra heard someone near him and looked back to see something leer toward him in the darkness and waved. The animatronic didn’t register as Sun or Moon so it wasn’t someone scary, right?

Penumbra felt a hand against his face and screamed feeling heat charge up, grabbing the arm that was holding him and attempting to fight the hand away, the hand registering to his database as Solar. Penumbra was screaming up until Solar’s arm cannon went off and Penumbra collapsed to the floor, the remainder of his head smoking as the wires singed with sparks and flames.

----------

3: Saros

The third woke up more slowly, groaning as he held his head and rubbed over it with phantom pains. Saros? He liked Saros. Saros was remembering slowly the past two deaths, very sudden and terrifying in retrospect. It left him shaking abut. But those were adults, right?

Now that he had time to think about things, Saros knew those animatronics were adults and he was just a kid in a way. He had no memory besides his prior deaths, really. Saros didn’t really know much, but the only adults he knew of were the ones that had hurt him before. Or…past versions of him? Saros didn’t know. But they were scary, that was for sure.

Saros wanted to ask them for help. Maybe they’d listen if he could ask them this time? Saros looked around to find he had woken up in a theater. It was a big place, actually. It was kind of pretty despite how dark it was. Saros followed the lights out of the theater and up into the concession booth, finding it was a red and orange and black bot half-asleep at the counter.

“HI!” Saros waved at him.

“Oh shit.” The bot that registered now as Solar, his killer last time fumbled a bit as he stood straight up and stared at Saros.

“Hello, my name is Saros, can I ask you if you can hel-” Saros got a shot from the arm cannon through half his faceplate, leaving him screaming as half his fragile head components had been blown to dust. Saros collapsed holding his head and trying to hold the components left of his circuit board together before he felt another blast from the arm cannon.

Saros’s body slumped to the floor with a quarter of his head left and oil dripping, catching fire in his engines just as Saros’ body was powering down, creating a fire on the floor and a mark of fire damage on the floor as well.

----------

4: Shadow

The fourth screamed awake, alerting someone around him. Shadow had a very short existence, very confused and scared. He was in the middle of the daycare surrounded by only Sun and cleaning supplies. Shadow’s screaming alerted Sun, who immediately panicked and ripped out Shadow’s wires. Later that night, when Moon woke up, Moon put Shadow’s body in the kitchen’s trash compactor, ridding them of Shadow.

----------

5: Astronomy

When Astronomy woke up, he was in an even more vividly colored daycare. Where was this? Lunar and Earth’s daycare? He hadn’t seen those two animatronics before. Maybe they were nicer than the other three?

Astronomy looked around and found a small blue animatronic just a bit taller than him. Astronomy was tiny, he was toddler-sized and Lunar was taller than him. Lunar looked more inviting, more kind. And he looked happy talking to someone that didn’t register as an animatronic. It was someone really tall with pretty blue designs that Astronomy didn’t hear the name of.

Astronomy hesitantly went up to Lunar and gently tugged on his sleeve, confused and afraid of Lunar turning out like the others. He was a very pretty light blue and almost glowing with nervous but kind energy. But that kind energy faded the second Lunar turned to him. But Astronomy persisted. Lunar was an adult and he needed an adult to help him.

“Mister Lunar? C-Can you help me?” Astronomy asked.

“Oh don’t play dumb, you arrogant prick!” Lunar snapped and the blue person disappeared. Astronomy looked up toward the blue person then back to Lunar, who was charged with electricity? Lightning? But he was buzzing with it.

Astronomy didn’t have time to get another word out before he felt lightning running through him, frying every circuit and blowing them out, making Astronomy scream as the lightning made scars and Lichtenburg marks across his skin, smoke billowing from Astronomy’s melting circuits before it fried his internals and his chip.

Astronomy’s body dropped to the floor like a stone, smoke billowing above him and sparks and jolts still going through him after Astronomy had already been killed.

----------

+1. Ultraviolet

Ultraviolet woke up in the balcony room. He didn’t know why but he was there, which immediately scared him and made him run as a large blue and green animatronic that registered as Earth saw him run to hide. He was scared of the animatronics here, all of them had killed him before except Earth! He didn’t like those animatronics and Earth couldn’t be any better!

The little blue one seemed friendly and smaller like him but he didn’t want to take his chances this time. Ultraviolet had hid in the dressing room behind the theater, looking at himself in the mirror. The features he had were pretty ones. He loved the pretty black and orange. It was a pretty combination.

In the mirror, Ultraviolet saw a pretty orange and black dress meant for the theater actors and it looked small enough for him. Violet took off his clothes and changed into the frilly black and orange dress and giggled as he twirled in it, hands holding the skirt and watching it floof around him as he sat on the ground like a princess.

Violet liked that he looked like a princess, he liked the fluffy dress. He felt cute in the dress. It made him forget about Earth until he saw her turn the corner into the dressing room and see him on the ground. Earth stopped dead seeing him but didn’t make a move yet, seemingly stunned to see him there. Or maybe it was the dress?

Ultraviolet didn’t know, all he knew was that Earth was scary and it made tears of oil prick in his eyes and fall over his face, sobs unwillingly leaving his voice box. Earth had crouched down in front of him but it just made him scramble back and hide under one of the mirror desks, curling up and hiding as best he could.

“Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me, please!?” Ultraviolet sobbed out, shaking and Earth gently and slowly lowered one of her hands to touch Violet’s own hands.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re a little one, right?” Earth asked, voice soft and calm. It made Ultraviolet look up that she was actually talking to him without threats or yelling or panic. “Are you alright, little one? Do you need a hug?” Earth asked softly.

Ultraviolet sniffled and shuddered with a sob before tackling to hold around her middle, wailing and burying against her as her gentle hands rubbed over his back. Earth wasn’t hurting him. Earth wasn’t making him die again. She was comforting him, holding him while he cried.

“It’s okay, little one. You’re safe.” Earth assured him, voice still soft and calm enough it calmed him enough that the wailing petered down into hiccups and sniffles as Violet cried himself out, oil wetting and maybe staining Earth’s pretty skirt but she didn’t even seem to care.

“I know it’s scary, but you’re safe. Just breathe, little one. What’s your name? Do you have one?” She asked to calm him further.

“Ultraviolet.” He whispered, wiping his eyes with his arm but refusing to let go of Earth, too scared to let go of the one adult who hadn’t hurt him.

“Ultraviolet is a pretty name. My, that’s a very good name. And the nickname maybe Violet. Oh, I love that name, it’s so pretty like you in this dress, Violet.” Earth giggled and smiled, making Ultraviolet feel a lot more comfortable. Earth sat forward and offered Ultraviolet her hands to pick him up.

Violet immediately raised his arms to be picked up, letting her arms coddle him to her shoulder and hold him there. One hand was under his thighs and the other hand over his back and head to keep him in her shoulder as Ultraviolet clung his hands around her neck to hold on tight, feeling the warmth and affection she had.

Earth stood up with him in her arms, carrying him somewhere and Violet peeked to see they were going to the daycare with her hands getting more protective. It seemed Earth had known about Ultraviolet’s prior deaths and was protecting him from the other animatronics.

“Boys! Hello!” Earth called out and Ultraviolet looked around, seeing the four animatronics that had killed him in his last five lives and one other taller adult animatronic with rays and looked nervous but kind. He registered as Ruin in Violet’s systems and he looked kind. Kinder than even Lunar.

Either way, the sight of all four of the animatronics that had killed Violet in his last five lives made him inadvertently give a whimper and begin to shake, sniffles rising back up again as he pressed his face into Earth’s neck, clutching onto her shirt tighter so she wouldn’t leave him to the mercy of the mean adult animatronics again.

“Boys, I am deeply ashamed and disappointed in you. Not you, Ruin. I understood when you four all had told me that you had killed an Eclipse that had come around as I was under the impression that you all had been threatened or attacked and provoked into killing him. However, Ultraviolet here has no more than the mentality of barely a two year old and seemingly no memories whatsoever other than the trauma the four of you have inflicted.” Earth told them, her hand on Ultraviolet’s back rubbing it to soothe him as he whimpered and cried quietly, too scared to pay attention to the conversation. He was just happy that Earth was comforting him.

“Earth, he’s not a-” Moon began.

“That being said!” Earth cut him off. “I do not condone your actions any longer in the murders of those ‘Eclipses’. As far as I am aware, all five of them were innocent of crimes as well as children. You four should be ashamed of yourselves. If Ultraviolet is a reflection of them at all, then they did absolutely nothing to any of you other than exist.”

“Earth?” Sun asked.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear the excuses! Ultraviolet is a two year old with no memories of anything besides death! I will not entertain your excuses! All four of you will not interact with him until he’s ready to interact with you! Ultraviolet is a tiny toddler, smaller than Lunar even! How could four of five of you possibly have seen a toddler as a threat!?” She sounded really angry and it made Ultraviolet whimper and let out a cry, though not tears came out this time because his oil tank was too low to create more tears.

Earth relaxed and turned away from the other five animatronics, rocking Ultraviolet as she also calmed herself down. Her hand stroked up and down Ultraviolet’s spine and she shushed him, softly humming as she ran her fingers to rub his rays and that instantly relaxed Violet against her shoulder, breath getting softer and slower as he was slowly falling asleep to the feeling.

“I may be the baby sister but I am extremely upset with all of you four. Not you, Ruin. And I’m sorry if I scared you, Ruin. I know you haven’t seen me angry before, I apologize.” Earth told the group of other animatronics.

“It’s very alright, Earth. I understand.” Ruin assured her. “May I see him?” Ruin asked.

“Of course.” She smiled, sitting with Ruin as the other four went to talk to each other quietly like they’d been scolded by a parent. Earth slowly and carefully transferred Ultraviolet into Ruin’s awaiting arms and Ruin carefully held him the same as Earth had, though he sat in a rocking chair, which soothed Violet even more.

As if Ruin was an expert, the other animatronic’s rubbed and massaged Violet’s rays from the base to the tips, vanes getting Ruin’s fingers running over them and it put Violet fully to sleep from fussing slightly. Earth cooed softly as she saw little Violet go to sleep in Ruin’s arms and immediately began taking pictures and sending them straight to Monty while Ultraviolet continued to sleep, completely comfortable in Ruin’s arms getting soft fingers rubbing his back and rays to soothe away any nightmares.

[angel-with-paper-wings]

Seeing POTO Live: Part 1 (An Unexpected Journey)

On Monday May 20th 2024, I was fortunate enough to see The Phantom of the Opera live on the West End in London. It’s safe to say that I left as a changed person.

For my own posterity’s sake and in case anyone is interested, I want to give a little background about how I was able to see the show, because the story is a little crazy. I still can’t believe it happened. For my commentary and thoughts on the show itself, see Part 2 of this post.

So, at the time of this post’s writing, my parents and I just finished a vacation to various places in the UK that we’ve been planning since June of last year. We were scheduled to spend our last two days in London, so while making a list of all the things we wanted to see in the city, we briefly discussed seeing a West End show. However, when I went to look at tickets to see Phantom (because I was already a phan at the time so of course it was already on my bucket list), the website was only showing tickets available through March 2024. For some reason, my brain assumed this meant that the current West End run was only doing shows through March and then they would take a break for summer or whatever (idk how theaters work, so it sounded plausible to me at the time 😅). So we ultimately decided to not make plans to see a West End show, and I gave up hope of seeing Phantom on the West End for the foreseeable future.

That is, until a week before our vacation.

Out of curiosity I checked the website again, and I saw that there were now tickets available for a 7:30pm show on Monday May 20th, the day we were scheduled to arrive in London after sightseeing in Oxford in the morning. A little bit of hope returned, but I still didn’t get too excited because there was a lot we wanted to see in London and not much time to do so. I didn’t make seeing Phantom a priority because my parents weren’t as interested in seeing it as I was, and it didn't feel right to me to force all of us to go on an expensive outing that only I would enjoy to the fullest. So I again put the possibility of seeing the show out of my mind, and we enjoyed the start of our vacation.

Monday afternoon rolled around, and my parents and I were on the bus ride to London with our tour group after sightseeing in Oxford in the morning. Our tour guide told us we were due to arrive between 4:30-5:30 but that London traffic was very unpredictable and it may take even longer. My family and I had planned on walking over to Piccadilly Circus and Buckingham Palace that evening, and I off-handedly mentioned that we should stop by Her (now His) Majesty’s Theatre for a picture of the POTO decor and stuff. They asked me to check if any seats happened to be available for the performance that evening. I highly doubted it, but to my utter shock, there were still six seats available: three in the balcony that were close together and three on the ground floor in the stalls (the area directly in front of the stage). I was THRILLED, and my parents (the absolute angels they are, no pun intended) noticed this and suggested that we try to get the tickets to the show and see Buckingham Palace the next day. However, because we still didn’t know exactly when the bus would be arriving in London, we decided to wait until we reached our hotel to make sure that we had the time to get to the theatre in time.

The entire ride to London, I could feel the adrenaline and excitement pulsing through my body, and yet it still didn’t feel real yet. Sometimes I struggle with appreciating big events like this in the way they probably should be appreciated because I just get stuck in a state of shock that lasts until the event is over, and by the time it’s over I feel like I missed it. But this time, I told myself that if my prayers were answered and it all worked out, I would make a point to appreciate it to the fullest (and that’s what I am doing by making these posts).

We were BLESSED with easy traffic (a rarity in London, according to our tour guide) and got to our hotel at 4:30pm. I checked the availability of seats in the theatre again, and the same six seats were visible on my screen. However, when I went to purchase the three balcony seats for me and my parents, it said that one of the seats I wanted to buy had already been taken. I refreshed the page, and there were now only four seats available: one in the balcony and three in the stalls (ground floor). The ones in the stalls had two next to each other about four rows from the stage (these were EXPENSIVE, like £175 each), and one on its own DEAD CENTER in Row L, which is a couple of rows below the balcony (so not directly under the chandelier but close). My parents (again, angels) told me to get the lone seat in Row L and see the show on my own, and that they were fine with walking around London by themselves for the evening.

So I booked the ticket. We walked 40 minutes from our hotel to the theatre. The entire time, I still couldn’t quite believe it, and my shock was making me delusional—I was convinced when I got there they would say that my online ticket was invalid or that someone had already bought my ticket in advance. But it was all okay. The kind ushers let me in without issue, I bought myself a programme and a water bottle, and I made my way to my seat an hour ahead of showtime. I wanted to make a post telling you guys what was happening, but Wi-Fi didn’t work in the theatre (probably for the best). It was easily the best money I’ve ever spent.

I probably don’t have to tell you how damn lucky and fortunate I am in every aspect to have been able to afford a last-minute ticket to see the show I love in such a great seat. I wish I could have shared that luck and fortune with all of you and had you there with me so we could all enjoy the incredible performance (and trust me, it was INCREDIBLE). Since I unfortunately can’t do that, I want to try and do the next-best thing—in my review post (Part 2), I will be sharing my notes from the show that I wrote during intermission and when it was over that describe the details that I noticed about the performance as well as my own commentary/reflection. I hope you all enjoy sharing this experience with me and feel like you were there in spirit, because I know you all were!!!

Thanks and have a wonderful day,

Angie ❤️