#while erik is a beautiful angel and was never wrong

[kryptonbabe]

I ship Charles Xavier with no one, least of all with Erik, Magneto deserves better than that and you know it, hand Xavier to the colonialist intergalactic bird people and let's be done with this

[leader-of-grandys]

Okay it seems like rlly unpopular opinion in this fandom. I mean I saw a lot of fics, hdcs and posts where leroux!Erik is bi, pan or straighty and always very like VERY horny and very into all that stuff

but

BUT

I'll duplicate some of the thoughts that I wrote earlier. I personally see leroux!Erik as 1000% asexual because c’mon. This man is afraid of touching esp touching women. For him the biggest joy was INNOCENT KISS on the forehead. And judging by his wishes about his marriage where all he does is going for walkies while holding hands, singing and showing magic tricks is….. you know….. This speaks volumes. I bet he doesn't even think about other more physical aspects, for him it is just a fluffy romantic fantasy (and he's prob read hell of a lot snotty romantic novels while kicking his legs and screaming in pillow). He seeks romantic love and he wants to be loved and accepted as he is, but I see it as purely platonic feelings, not physical. And honestly how he treats Christine and calls her my angel, my saviour and all that stuff????? He idealises her to the core and sees her almost like a divine being - pure and kind. Do you really think that he would project his fantasies on her????? (but I highly doubt that he even has them and I see him as a castrato but its a whole different topic for another day) Do you think he would even allow himself to do that???? I bet he would just roll on the floor like sopping wet cat and scream that he's not allowed to touch this pure being with his disgusting cadaverous hands. Erik was SHOCKED that someone WILLINGLY touched him without running away, showed him compassion and understanding even despite his abuse and threats. All that because he thought he didn't deserve it, that he is so ugly that he can't be treated like a normal human being.

Also about that marriage stuff. I think Erik didn't desire the marriage as most ppl do. For him its just a way to prove that he is like everyone else because wakie wakie, it is a 19th century's heteronormative society where if you are single and were never married at almost 50 years old, then something is deeply wrong with you. Erik didn't want to marry in a first place - for him it's just an instrument to fit in in a strict society that rejected him. Honestly its sooooo autistic coded for me (I'm autistic btw). Dude just went too hard in attempt to fit in but failed miserably. Another thing for me that strikes is that the marriage for Erik could be seen as a guarantee that the person he loves will never leave him (bc divorces at that time were an awfully difficult procedure, you know). He was so insecure about himself, scared to death that he would be abandoned, betrayed, and rejected again and then boom, there's a guarantee drop, a wonderful idea that everyone praised and romanticised in all books. Marriage. You don't have to handcuff anyone to the battery and cry on the floor praying not to leave you because the law will do it for you. I think you see where I'm going. I also have high suspicions where's Erik really felt love or he was so lonely and depressed at that point of his life that he accepted an ordinary friendship and politeness as a pure and beautiful love to the grave (literally) and the only chance for happiness. When Christine didn't suspect a thing, he already drew in his diary himself walking with her in the park and framing it with hearts while lying on the bed like a schoolgirl. Again very autistic trait that I've noticed in myself. To think that you are a genius and have thought everything 10 steps ahead, that the person will act according to your plan and that the regular good word (said purely out of politeness by the person who is not interested in you) is the beginning of a great unbreakable friendship for the ages. If you know you know. I rlly see it as Erik imagined himself castles in the air and saw his deep desire for friendship and acceptance as true love. Because all pll are saying that love is great so it 100% must be it, right? ...........................right? The problem with interpreting your true emotions and feelings are unironically hard. Phew, okay. What I'm trying to say is that I see leroux!Erik as an asexual autistic individual. I don't say that it's canon and theres the only way to view this character because what I say is based not only on my unbiased analysis but also on my neurodivergent experience and kinda similar life problems (but much, MUCH LESS serious and with access to therapy and treatment). Pls don't write mean things to me if you disagree, you have your right to do so but do it outside my askbox. I’m open to discussion but not conflicts. Thanks

[lpsgirl109]

INFO DUMP ABOUT X MEN OC SBN OW

AAAAAAAA OKOK

This is gonna be just the most basic rundown of all of them cause there's many and if I went in detail about them we'd be here forever

Alkali Ashford

Alkali was my first x men OC. Her ability is turning into dinosaurs. In her regular form, she has stripes and a tail, so she needs one of the camouflage watch things. She's besties with Kurt, but her arc is sort of opposite to his in the sense that while he wants to fit in and hide who he is, she wants to stand out and let the world know who she is. She's very fun I love her. Also fun fact this is the character that got me in trouble in that one rp server I mentioned a few nights ago, where they yelled at me because they decided shapeshifters aren't allowed only after I submitted her. They hate her because she's too swag for them to handle

Milo

This guy and the next character are basically recycled versions of ooold old OCs of mine. Milo has two water serpent things that he can control. He starts out kinda scared of them because, unlucky for him he has a fear of water due to almost drowning as a child. But overtime he learns to appreciate them

Marigold

Other aforementioned old recycled OC. Her mutation is physical in the sense that she has cat ears and angel wings, so she also needs a camouflage watch. However unlike Kurt and Alkali, she never really faced a lot of discrimination growing up because her mutation is considered beautiful by most (There's lots of angel devil comparisons with Marigold and Kurt it's so fun it's so fun). She's known Milo since they were kids because she is the one who saved him from drowning. They're dating now. Ew romance

Peter Maximoff

"Peg that's not an OC" yeah so I made an Evo version of Peter because I was STUPIDLY obsessed with this man in like 2021 idk what was wrong with me. Anyway he's the twins' half brother and I have yet to figure out what happened between Erik and his mom. He has a really dumb rivalry with Pietro its so funny

Ezekiel

Or Zeke for short. His thing is seeing and talking to ghosts. Lance recruits him to the Brotherhood for all of two seconds before Zeke befriends Kurt and jumps over to the X Men instead. He also dates Kurt later so i can live in my RogueKitty delusions but shhh

Indigo

These next few are part of the new mutant squad. Indigo's power is bringing drawings to life and she has a fun sibling relationship with Peter. They're also a little bit Too wiling to commit murder

Niko

Also a recycled old OC. He has a snake that sticks out of his back. Not much more to him yet, he just has a snake

Ozzy

Cool guy who turns into a fish person when in the water. May or may not have been inspired by Luca. Also for anyone who knows my habit of making Harry Osborn inspired OCs and naming them Ozzi. This guy is not one of the Harry clones, he came way before the raimi fixation attacked me and dragged me to hell

Markus Lang

Member of the X Men and one of the mentors alongside Ororo and Logan. He can turn into a dragon. He might end up dating Logan idk I think they'd be silly together

Gwen Ashford

Alkali's adopted younger sister who has rock powers. She's part of The Brotherhood and she is an absolute menace to society

Wyatt Elsher

This guy is able to turn into like a goop furry thing and I'm being so honest to god I based him off the fucking Transfur Outbreak game on roblox. Embarrassing. Anyway he was childhood friends with Marigold and lived in her old neighborhood, and I imagine initially his mutation was just becoming some sort of werewolf thing. Then he got sent to this lab place that claimed they'd 'cure' him but ended up fucking him up. So now he's goop. He also joins the Brotherhood and has a rivalry with Marigold

Harper

Regular ass human girl who Alkali meets at a party and falls head over heels in love with her. She also sort of adopts Kurt into her friend group after the mutants get exposed, seeing he's alone now and wanting to help him. She does guess he's also a mutant, but she's fine with it

Thats all of em!! It's entirely possible I'll make more soon, but this is who I got right now. I also have like the crumbs of a fic for these guys on wattpad but it has like one chapter that was written in 2021 and also features very shitty old art. If yall want it though I'll link it. I do plan on working on it again eventually

[phenomenal1500]

Toxic Love | Erik Killmonger

Summary: 'There are devilish thoughts even in the most angelic minds.' 

Delaney Delcour, an infamous mobster's daughter, has always been isolated from the outside world. Danger and threats lurked from the shadows everywhere and after the loss of her mother, her father surrounded her with his bodyguards to protect her.... her privacy completely shattered by her father's fear of losing her, but what would happen if the woman decides to sneak around at her father's business party and accidentally comes into contact with something that someone could never protect her from, not even her father? Something way worse than the dangers and threats her father had warned her about when she was little.... 

Relationship: Incubus!Erik Killmonger x Delaney Delcour [OC] 

Fandom: Black Panther [Marvel]

AU: Maffia AU

Chapter 1: ~The Grim Reaper~

1980– The golden year of mobster Isaiah Delcour aka the grim reaper, a merciless man. A man so cruel he took life from his own brothers to achieve the title he now wore with pride. Nobody dared to speak of his name or even think about him, yet everyone did because of the constant assaults. Kill after kill entered the news like it was some casual Friday evening gossip on tv and new nemeses were created in no time.... Nemeses just as bloodthirsty as Mr. Delcour himself. It even came as a surprised that the man managed to stay alive for so long and even bring a daughter into his murderous world with his beautiful wife. Delaney Delcour came into the world on 14 December 1994, the same year her mother lost her life as a result of torture at the hands of another Maffia family for information.

Delaney's gray eyes never left her reflection in the mirror as her friend continued warning her about their future plans. Not that she cared though, she was too busy adjusting her cat-like eyeliner that perfectly matched her eye shape while sipping from her champagne.

"Figuratively kill me? Yes I know." Delaney answered shortly, looking up at her friend once with a raised brow before continuing with her eyeliner. "But what's life without a little bit of risk and danger?" She let the eye pencil wave through the air in an elegant way and smirked before drawing the last line to connect it with the black wing she made.

"Death. It's death, Delaney. You know what happened to your moth-...." Reyna was stopped by a sharp finger being pointed at her and Delaney slowly turned her head her way.

"Don't you dare bring her up." She hissed and squinted her anger-filled eyes, her not-pointing hand clenched in a fist. It left her knuckles white and her eye pencil almost broke, yet she managed to control her urge to snap it in half right in time.

"But...." Reyna tried again, knowing that it wouldn't help but she really wanted to warn her best friend about the risks she was going to take disobeying her father's orders.

"No, that won't happen, Reyna. I know the consequences and how to deal with them. I was born with them and I'm a grown up woman now. It'll be all fine and besides, we're staying close to my father so.... technically I'm not breaking any rules."

"No, that won't happen, Reyna. I know the consequences and how to deal with them. I was born with them and I'm a grown up woman now. It'll be all fine and besides, we're staying close to my father so.... technically I'm not breaking any rules."

She was right.

She grew up with her father's saying so she knew exactly how to deal with every single rule and what was on the border of anger or crossing it. The plan was to creep around the business party, not go to a forbidden part of the city so it couldn't really go wrong and Reyna knew that too so worrying made no sense.

Reyna sighed and scrunched her black kinky curls to create more volume with one hand while sipping from her red wine like it was limonade. "You know what? Fine. Let's have some fun. There better be some hot men." She giggled and put down her now empty glass, a maiden filling it up right away again.

"There's my wild friend." She chuckled and lifted her soft ash brown curls into a bun, letting some loose curls cover her face to create a messy yet still fancy effect. After that she held her tight dress at the hem so she could get up from her vanity without it gliding up and then she pulled up the top of her dress to make sure everything was hugging her body perfectly. She always had to be careful with moving too much in this dress or else her breasts would bounce out of the cups of her low cut dress, but it suited her perfectly and so she always took the risk. Twirling around in the mirror one last time, she admired her wide hips, round breasts and slim waist one last time before watching her friend. "Ready?"

"Ready." Reyna repeated, putting her hands in the pockets of her crème colored pants after checking if she had her phone.

~~~

Pushing the heavy door of the black limo open, Delaney stepped out of the vehicle and into the 24 degrees weather. Normally it would've been way warmer, but there was a strange atmosphere at the place they were. It wasn't too warm outside that day nor was it cold and there were almost no shadows because of the bright sun. Delaney pushed up her octagon sunglasses to shield her sensitive eyes from the sun. Waiting for her father to leave the limo as well, she leaned against it with a very relaxed and uninterested body posture. She never cared about business meetings like this. She knew there wasn't anything interesting about them and she wasn't allowed to do anything either so she hated it.

However, this time it would all be different.

The woman looked around for a bit as her father joined her right side, pushing her sunglasses down a bit to focus on different groups of people. Drug dealers, politicians, Business CEOs, associates. Everyone came together at these type of events.... even the assassins.... not that she cared though. She wasn't afraid of any of them. At first she was, but the more she was exposed to death around her, it didn't even give her the slightest bit of fear. With her chin up and her back straight, she followed her father inside the tall, castle-like mansion.

"I need you to wait here until I get back, after that we will join the rest, alright?" They moved through the stone hallways, her father turning his back to her and speaking to her from over his shoulder.

"Alright." She closed her eyes and gave a single nod, playing the obedient girl she always was once again before her father disappeared. Delaney knew it however wasn't time to carry out her plan yet and crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall.

This was going to be a long day....

Perhaps.... Perhaps not. It's all up to you, ma.

The woman's head shot up from up from watching her heels, shocked to see a random dude leaning against the wall on the opposite side. He had his simple black Jordan 1 covering his feet, wearing simple black cargo pants with golden chains hanging from it and an oversized off-white sweater on top of that too. She hadn't noticed him before. The stranger was handsome for sure and she would've definitely noticed him at her arrival so where did he come from? She also hadn't heard his footsteps.... and did he just speak to her through her mind?

She shook the thoughts away, no one could do that.

The stranger's nut brown eyes swept over her body with lust before he pushed his body away from the wall and towards her. Delaney never got anyones attention like this, perhaps also because they knew she was off limits, but that only made this more exciting cause he didn't seem to care at all.

His gaze met hers.... step for step was he narrowing the gap between them until he was so close she could inhale his sweet and strong cologne. "Who are you?" She managed to speak with a desperate sigh, her heart beating so loud she was afraid he could hear it.

"Does it really matter?" He whispered into her ear with the most lustful voice she had ever heard and right when she got the urge to hold onto him- touch him- feel him, she could hear her father's voice yell out for her. Her head shot to the side, afraid she would get caught with a man standing this close to her and she wanted to push the stranger away only to find out he was gone.... completely gone. There were no trails of anyone being with her at all.

Was she going crazy?

[rere-the-writer]

Title- 'Running from a good thing.'

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Soft!Mikaelson

Pairings- Elijah Mikaelson x F!Reader x Rebekah Mikaelson

Summary- You left one stormy night hiding a secret after Hayley talked to you leaving both Elijah and Rebekah heart broken looking for you. You were now with two hunter brothers that saved you from a nest of vampires.

'They will never believe you. They won't accept it like they did Hope.'

Hayley's words rang in your head as you quickly packed, tears fell from your eyes. It hurt, the thought of leaving Rebekah and Elijah but Hayley was so sure in what she told you.

'You saw how Klaus reacted when I was pregnant with Hope. Whose to say they would be just as understanding?'

You didn't know where you could go, you couldn't return to Mystic Falls as you left behind your friends for Rebekah and Elijah. You went to New Orleans with them finding hard to live without the Originals.

When you stared dating the two Originals when they both showed interest in you, the orphan girl that Zach Salvatore took in. Elijah had informed you that it wasn't the first time the siblings shared lovers. You knew even if you went back to Mystic Falls that would be the first place they'll look.

"Lebanon, Kansas."

When the Mikaelsons came home, Rebekah rushed up to you as Elijah groaned tired sinking into the couch waiting for Rebekah to come down with you.

"Y/N is gone!" Elijah sat up all tiredness he felt went away as he joined Klaus and Kol who was looking up at Rebekah.

"Are you sure she didn't go out with Camille and Davina?"

"No Kol....her clothes are gone as if she packed up." Rebekah said as Elijah rushed up to your bedroom frowning as Hayley walked in carrying Hope on her hip.

"What's going on?"

"Y/N is gone." Klaus answered her as he and Kol watched her closely as they knew Hayley was in love with Elijah and knew how she felt about you.

"Oh yeah, she said something about a trip with old friends." Hayley said lying smoothly as Elijah frowned looking at Hayley.

"Impossible. Y/N always tells me and Rebekah if she has plans."

"Elijah, the last time she ran off like this was when her brothers learned of the relationship."

"Meaning something is wrong and she believes we wouldn't understand." Elijah said frowning as worry racked his body and Rebekah hugged Elijah hoping you were okay. Kol called Davina and Freya to come do a locater spell to find you.

A year passed since you left New Orleans and now settled with two hunters and their Angel after saving you from a nest of vampires. You missed your vampire lovers but Hayley's words would rang in your head everytime you thought of calling or going back.

"Y/N, Erik. We're home!" You heard Dean call out and you picked up the baby boy walking out smiling at Sam and Dean. Erik squealed seeing Sam reaching for the hunter who was happy to take the boy.

"Hey guys. Where's Cas?"

"Right here." Castiel said smiling at you as you hugged him. Castiel had been a huge help with Erik which Dean found to be adorably disgusting.

"How was the hunt?"

"Went by smoothly. On the way back we picked up on a new case in New Orleans." Dean said tossing Erik in the air making the baby laugh.

"Oh?" You said quietly you told the brothers about your past as to not hide anything. And to give you peace of mind they promised no big hunts in New Orleans unless needed.

"Look we know you said no hunts in New Orleans but a group of demons are up to something there."

"So Dean and I thought it would be good if you and Erik come with us. Get you both out of the bunker while we take out the demons."

"I don't know....."

"Come on. You can spoil Erik and the little guy can get some time out in the sun and fresh air."

"Okay. That sounds nice." You said giving in their puppy dog faces.

"I got dinner done by the way." You say getting cheers from Dean as Sam shook his head smiling.

The impala drove into New Orleans and you felt a bit of heart ache as the car stopped. You got out putting Erik in a baby carrier as Sam and Dean got out.

"We are going to go check out the crime scene. Here, enjoy the city we be back later to go out for dinner." Dean tells you as you nodded taking the money then watched the brothers drive off.

You walked around going to different shops as Erik babble holding your finger. A familiar face caught your attention and swallowed seeing it was Davina who smiled brightly seeing you as she jogged over.

"Y/N!? Where have you been? Rebekah and Elijah has been looking all over for you."

"Places.....humm." You said as you were unsure what to say as her eyes fell on the baby boy that looked awful like Elijah. Erik babble getting your attention as he looked at the new person.

"Y/N can you come with me?"

"De, I don't...."

"Please. I won't take you to the Abattoir. I just need to know something." Davina says as you nodded. You found yourself in Vincent's place having Erik standing in your lap bouncing. Erik was unbothered by Davina poking his finger with a needle to get his blood.

"Erik is Elijah's son."

"But how Vincent? Non of the witches did a spell for it nor did Freya." Davina tells Vincent who looked to you as you swallowed as they walked over.

"Y/N, do you know how you became pregnant?"

"No I don't....I didn't go to any witches nor did I go to Freya." You tell Vincent as Erik sat in your lap kicking his legs smiling.

"So that's why you left because of your pregnancy?"

"Yes. I'm sorry for causing trouble but I need to get going now." You say standing grabbing your bag rushing out the door as Vincent and Davina called your name.

"Y/N?" Kol whispered as you brushed pass him and Klaus both watching you hurrying away as Davina rushed out frowning seeing that you were gone.

"Davina?"

"We need to tell you something." Davina tells Klaus and Kol with a frown. You knew this was a bad idea but couldn't blame Sam and Dean as the brothers wanted what was best for you as you headed for the diner you all would meet up at.

"She had Elijah's son?!" Klaus said after calling an emergency family meeting as Vincent explained what was going on. Elijah sat in shock with Rebekah who was rubbing his hand.

"Y/N didn't tell us why?"

"That she didn't tell us." Davina says sighing as she recalls how nervous you were. Elijah stood fixing his suit jacket with unreadable look.

"Then let's find her and bring her home."

You sat in the diner with Sam and Dean talking and laughing as Dean was telling you what happened on the hunt. You were rubbing Erik's back as he slept with it being late.

"So you ran into an old friend?"

"Yeah....Davina and she most likely told everyone about Erik." You say softly looking down as Sam who was sitting next to you rubbing your back.

"Are you sure they wouldn't accept Erik? From what you told me and Sammy, Elijah and Rebekah loves you something fierce."

"Come on Dean. Hayley had a point, how would I explain that I was pregnant? They could accept Hope because they could explain it but Erik?"

"Yeah but you can find out how." Sam says taking a bite out of his salad as you blinked looking at him.

"How?"

You rocked Erik as he whimpered uncomfortable with being at a crossroads. Sam and Dean thought summoning Crowley to explain how you fell pregnant would help and of course Castiel stayed close to you and Erik not trusting demon.

"Hello moose and squirrel. Oh you brought the little rabbit." Crowley said smirking then it was wiped off his face when his eyes landed on Erik.

"You bought an Original's child with you? Are you kidding me?!" Crowley growled looking at the hunters with narrowed eyes.

"You know about Erik?"

"Yes I know about the boy! As any smart supernatural being would." Crowley says looking around nervous which made the brothers look at one another as it wasn't everyday the demon King was nervous.

"You okay there Crowley?"

"No I am not Winchester. You have both the mate of two Originals and his son so understandably I am on edge."

"Crowley. They are just vampires." Dean says as the look on Crowley's face was they hadn't seen before.

"They aren't just vampires Winchester. They could kill me without blinking these aren't like the ones you kill. They are one of the most feared beings."

"Are you serious?"

"Every. When we all heard that the son of Elijah Mikaelson had been born. Everyone knew to stay clear." Crowley said as you stepped forward after passing Erik to Castiel.

"Do you know how it was possible for me to get pregnant?"

"From my understanding there was a powerful witch that cast a spell then was killed. That is all I know." Crowley said disappearing leaving you all a bit confused.

Next morning Sam and Dean went out to see Benny who was out in the bayou asking if you wanted to join but you declined. You were walking with Erik in his baby carrier strapped to your chest as you walked though a witch's market.

"I found her Elijah." Marcel said after calling the Original when he saw you walking with bags in your hand of things for Erik.

"There she is." Rebekah breathed staring as you were looking at artists that were painting or drawing as Erik babbled smiling.

"There is your son Elijah." Klaus says as Elijah stared at the toddler strapped to you then to you. Both Rebekah and Elijah noted you had cut your hair and still had a bit of baby weight but you were still breathing taking beautiful to them.

They growled seeing a man show up next to you and how you smiled brightly at him and how the boy also smiled brightly at the man. The three Originals listen in on your conversation.

"You have bought a lot of things for Erik."

"Only the best for this little guy Cas." You tell Castiel as Erik let out an excited squeal making you look to see what he was staring at the got him all worked up. You stopped hold your breath seeing Elijah and Rebekah as both stared back.

"It seems he knows who his father is." Castiel commented as Erik was squealing reaching for the suit wearing Original.

"Yeah it seems so." You say swallowing watching they walking up to you. You had many emotions swirl in you and your heart began to ache seeing the soft look in their eyes.

You were soon back in the Abattoir holding Erik in your lap even though the boy was reaching for his father. It was just you, Rebekah and Elijah in the den as both Klaus and Kol let you three talk it out.

"Why did you run from us?" Rebekah asked she wasn't angry instead she sounded hurt, hurt that you didn't trust then enough to tell them about your pregnancy.

"Hayley said you wouldn't be as understanding as you were with her." You say softly looking away from them as in a flash Elijah was in front of you. Erik touched Elijah's face as Rebekah came sitting next to you.

"You are our lover, our beloved. Of course we would have understood. Elijah and I love you so deeply that we would die for you."

"Rebekah is right. We tore up the city looking for you." Elijah says grabbing Erik's hands smiling softly as the boy squealed putting his mouth on Elijah's hand.

"I sorry....I just...scared and Hayley told me all these things. I didn't mean to cause trouble." You said tearing up as Elijah gently took Erik and Rebekah wrapped you up in her arms.

"Shhh love. We weren't angry with you." Rebekah says her tone gentle as you sniffled feeling her kiss your head. Elijah looked at Erik seeing the boy staring back babbling softly.

"You'll be sure to visit right?" Dean asked hugging you after dropping your things off while Elijah was watching with Rebekah who was holding Erik.

"Yeah of course Dean. Thank you for everything."

"We're going to miss you and Erik." Sam says as you smiled hugging the tall hunter.

"If you both miss me too much just come to visit." You say as they nodded smiling and drove off. You turned seeing your lovers and son smiling you walked up as Elijah put an arm around you.

"No more running?"

"No more running." You promised as Elijah and Rebekah took you inside listening to Erik babble.

[thephantomessoftheopera]

Notes on Gaston Leroux‘s „The Phantom of the Opera“ - Epilogue

<< Previous chapter “It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known”

-Charles Dickens, “A Tale of Two Cities”

As we are coming to the end of the story, Leroux ties up a few more loose ends in the epilogue.

As for Raoul and Christine, their possible happy ending is only implied by what Erik told the Persian - that they had “taken a northbound train” and were planning to get married in secret. They have disappeared from the world, and Christine never appeared again on stage anywhere. According to Leroux, they might have finally settled in Norway together with Mama Valerius. At first, I thought Leroux might have been confusing Sweden and Norway, but when I did a little research on the name „Daae“, it turns out that the name is actually most prevalent in Norway, with almost no occurrences in Sweden. It is also implied that even if they took that “northbound” train before, Christine took a train back to Paris a few weeks later to return to Erik, because she had the wedding ring on her when she left, and it was finally found on Erik‘s finger.

As Philippe‘s death was deemed to be the consequence of the fight between the two brothers over Raoul’s supposed engagement to Christine, Raoul was a murder suspect - but as his previous testimony had already made him appear a lunatic in the eyes of the Commissary, Philippe‘s death was ultimately pronounced accidental. However, as Parisian society had taken less than kindly to the news of the engagement, I think that the couple would have had a very difficult standing if they had officially married and assumed the now vacant titles of the Count and Countess de Chagny. It is therefore likely that Raoul, having officially disappeared, never claimed his titles and inheritance, and chose the more simple lifestyle that Christine was accustomed to. Leroux concludes the story of Raoul and Christine with the statement that one day, he too might „hear the solitary echoes of the Northland repeat the singing of the woman who knew the Angel of Music''. In the epilogue, the boundaries between the „false“ and the „real“ Angel of Music become blurred, as Leroux repeatedly speaks of Erik as the “Angel of Music” - indicating that maybe, just maybe, Erik truly was the Angel of Music.

After following up on Raoul and Christine, Leroux relates how he obtained proof of Erik‘s existence from the Persian, mostly through the letters written by Christine that Erik had sent to him, but also through the testimonies of Meg Giry and La Sorelli. He supposedly placed all the proof he had gathered in the archives of the Paris Opera.

He also obtained the testimony of M. Poligny, the previous manager of the Opera. The „Opera Ghost“ affair was the final straw that made him resign his post, which again indicates that Erik‘s reign as „O.G.“ was rather short and caused by Erik falling in love (since he had been living in the Opera House presumably since the early 1870s). He also quotes from the fictional „Memoirs of a Manager“ by Armand Moncharmin, where Moncharmin relates that a few days after Christine‘s abduction, Erik returned all of the forty thousand francs he had extracted to the managers, no longer having any need for the money as he had given up his plan to marry Christine. The mystery of the safety-pin is also finally resolved, as Leroux was supposedly able to locate a small trapdoor in the floor of the managers’ office, through which a dexterous magician like Erik could easily have reached up and retrieved the envelope from Richard‘s coattail pocket as it was hanging down from his chair.

Leroux also notes that the marble pillar next to Box 5 sounds hollow and would offer ample space for Erik to hide inside it. According to Gérard Fontaine’s research, the pillars being hollow applies to all the pillars in the auditorium of the Palais Garnier. Whether that proves or disproves anything is up to you... Leroux’s plan of having the lake drained in order to obtain the ultimate proof of Erik‘s existence - finding the entrance to the house by the lake - did not go through, but Leroux still sustains his hope of one day finding the score of „Don Juan Triumphant“ there (that is, if Christine had not taken it with her when she came to bury him).

Leroux then gives a summary of Erik’s life according to the Persian. Erik was born near Rouen in France and ran away from his parents as a young boy, as they were afraid and horrified by how he looked. After being exhibited as a “living corpse” at fairs, he became a singing sensation and garnered a reputation that reached as far as Persia. The daroga of Mazenderan was sent to bring Erik to Persia as entertainment for the “little sultana”. Erik, who also worked there as an assassin, is described here as amoral, “not knowing the difference between right and wrong”. Even though he does not have an evil heart, his life up until this point has left him completely without a moral compass of any kind.

After building an ingenious palace for the shah, Erik’s execution was ordered so that he could not divulge its secrets to anyone. The daroga was supposed to carry it out, but as he owed Erik favours (and was the one who brough Erik to Persia in the first place), he helped him escape instead. He was punished for this and went into exile to Paris. Erik took a detour to Asia Minor and Constantinople before he ended up in Paris as well. It is also mentioned that Erik could make lifelike automata, which is reflected in the musical in the form of the monkey music box and also the “mirror bride”, a physical representation of Erik’s dream of a loving wife.

Once in Paris, Erik decided that he finally wanted to live a normal life, and placed a successful bid to work as a contractor on the Opera House. Wishing to hide his face from the world forever, he built his comfortable home into the foundations of the Opera. Erik’s plan to live out the rest of his life in peaceful tranquillity went well - until he crossed paths with Christine Daae and lost his heart to her completely. And the rest is history…

Leroux here gives his own view of Erik: “He had a heart great enough to hold the empire of the world, and in the end he had to be content with a cellar.” With a normal face, Erik, with his brilliant mind and extraordinary talents, could have had the world at his feet. And even though no one had ever loved him, he still had a heart capable of feeling deep, pure love, which is pretty remarkable. His beautiful voice is a reflection of the beauty he carries inside his soul - which was sadly eclipsed by his ugliness, which did not allow him to live “like everyone else”. The great tragedy of his life was his face, which kept others from treating him as a human being and recognizing his full potential. He is therefore clearly worthy of pity, instead of being cursed and condemned as evil.

Leroux had already mentioned in the Prologue that he believed the skeleton found in the cellars of the Opera was Erik’s. Now he finally reveals why he was so certain of that: because Erik’s skeleton wore the gold wedding ring on his finger, which Leroux believes Christine had placed there. Even though Erik had set her free and given her the ring, she later came back to him, and this time it was certainly not out of terror. With Erik dead, none of his threats would hold any more sway over her - and yet, she still returned to him to keep her promise. She not only buried him with the wedding ring, but she slipped it onto his finger, ultimately fulfilling her promise to accept him as her husband. In a sense, she buried him with her love, and that is truly a bittersweet and beautiful ending. After everything he had to endure, Erik’s life ends with a kiss and a ring on his finger, put there by the woman he loved more than his own life, and with Leroux praying for his salvation. That may not be a traditional happy ending, but it‘s very powerful. And it’s definitely not a villain’s ending.

As „Faust“ is the most strongly referenced work in „Phantom“, it is also worth comparing how the endings are different. In the final act of Gounod‘s opera, Faust and Marguerite first swear their love to each other, but when Marguerite sees Mephistopheles and realizes who Faust really is, she turns away from him and chooses death instead, while Faust is dragged into the fires of hell. Her famous last words to him are „You horrify me!“ In „Phantom“, the progression is almost the other way round - Christine is horrified at first, but then accepts Erik and chooses life instead of death.

It should also be noted that the ending in the novel is so vague that it also allows a lot of room for the reader’s imagination. Was Erik really dead when Christine returned? He himself was announcing his death, so it would not even be so very unlikely. But as this is Leroux’s story, the official reading would of course be how he himself imagined the ending: Erik dying and Christine coming back to bury him. This might be my favourite line from the novel:

“The skeleton lay near the little fountain, where the Angel of Music first held the unconscious Christine Daae in his trembling arms after taking her into the cellars of the Opera.”

As if the return of the ring was not enough poetic closure, he also asked to be buried in the very spot where he held the love of his life for the first time...

Symbolism and Metaphors

Now that we have concluded the epilogue, I would like to add a few more notes on the general themes which are present throughout the novel and still influence how we feel about it today.

To understand the extent of symbolism employed in  „The Phantom of the Opera“, it is necessary to understand the cultural mindset and environment in which it was written. At the turn of the century, the arts (and sciences, as evidenced by the slowly emerging works of Sigmund Freud) were rather obsessed with the fateful connection between Eros and Thanatos - love as the life-bringing force, and death as the destructive force. Both were often seen as intertwined and mirrored in the other.

Erik is the personification of Eros and Thanatos. He unites both forces in him to a degree unparalleled by any other character in the story. The death symbolism that is also clearly reflected in how he is described, would be both perceived as horrifying - and yet not without a strangely seductive fascination inherent in it. Death is intricately tied to darker feelings of passion and desire.The “Eros” and the “Thanatos” part of his character are intertwined, but his character also oscillates between the two sides in the course of the story.

Music in „Phantom“ also serves as a metaphor for romantic love, not only in the spiritual but also in the physical sense, as it is connotated with “passion”, “fire”, “ecstasy” and “rapture” throughout the story. Erik’s teaching awakens “an ardent, voracious and sublime life” in Christine, symbolizing the burgeoning romantic feelings in the young woman. She is terrified with the changes going on in her, which is also in line with how „Eros“ was originally viewed: as a frightening loss of control. Erik says in “Apollo’s Lyre” that “some music is so formidable that it consumes everyone who approaches it”, and Christine states that “Music has the power to abolish everything in the outside world except its sounds, which go straight to the heart”. In both sentences, the word “music” can easily be replaced with “love” - especially in Christine’s example, it would be the musical equivalent of “love is blind”.

Like in other (gothic) romances - “Wuthering Heights” being perhaps the prime example - the two rivals in the principal love triangle represent two very different types of love: one is intense and passionate, but also consuming, terrifying and potentially destructive, and the other is safer, but also somewhat chaste and lifeless. Erik and Raoul each represent one of the two extremes. This contrast is exemplified in the scene at the Masked Ball: Raoul wears white, the colour of innocence, while Erik wears red, the colour of passion, but also of danger and blood.

It is suggested in the novel that Erik and Christine were chained together by fate (“La destinée m’enchaîne à toi sans retour”), and I believe they were destined to save each other. Erik saved Christine from her grief in the wake of her father’s death and brought her back to life, and Christine saved his soul by being the first person in his life to accept him and grant him true happiness. „Phantom“ may be a tragic love story, but it is also a hopeful one, as love proves stronger than death. Christine’s choice, Erik‘s sacrifice and the skeleton’s wedding ring are all symbols of love triumphing over death.

[thinkingaboutyoungroyals]

I’ve re-watched “Young Royals” so many times and each rewatch just never fails to astound me. This is one of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever seen in a teen drama. Yes, it’s trope-y, there’s no avoiding that. And it’s not a perfect show. But, it managed one thing that many teen dramas often struggle with: authenticity.

All the characters, yes, including August, are all so well thought out and no one is one-dimensional. They’re all flawed. They have their own morals and beliefs that they either embrace or reject. They have their own background stories and motivations for their actions. Not to mention, the teens? They act like teens! They go to school, hang out with friends, complain about their families, have crushes, and take part in hobbies. 

And none of them look like they’re about to walk a runway! They have acne and scars and messy hair.

The costumes, man! The kids wear regular, comfortable clothes that are still fashionable and appropriate for school. Yes, the rich kids are wearing designer names that scream “money!” (I noticed the Calvin Klein logo in one of Wilhelm’s sweatshirts) but that’s the thing — they’re subtle without being in your face. Even the girls’ makeup looks like the actresses themselves did their own makeup!

And don’t get me started on the relationships! All the relationships! Familial! Platonic! Romantic!

Wilhelm clearly loves his parents but he’s the second born. The spare. Most of the attention growing up was most likely on Erik. And Wilhelm most likely felt invisible, which was just fine with him, he doesn’t like the attention… until Erik died and Wilhelm became crown prince. Suddenly, all the attention that their parents gave Erik was given to him and it wasn’t the good kind. They have expectations for him now. Big ones. I don’t think Wilhelm’s parents are homophobic, not at all. His mother seemed sympathetic towards him after the video came out. But, at the end of the day, she was still the Queen and she had to make choices for the good of the Crown. And, unfortunately, that clearly took precedence over her role as a mother.

Simon and Sara’s dad made some wrong choices and lost his family in the process. And although Simon seemed more forgiving, Sara is clearly not. Micke tries to get back in Simon’s good graces by getting him the booze for the party but freaks out when he thought Simon was using drugs. And even Linda, best mom ever, clashes with Sara, who believes that their mother isn’t doing enough for them. We, the audience, sees that she is and Simon does, too, but Sara feels that it’s not enough and Linda doesn’t even try to fight her on it.

And Felice clearly loves her mom and struggles to meet her expectations but is getting choked in the process (’quite literally). It makes me wonder if her initially going after Wilhelm is because her mother is pressuring her to get with the prince. During parents’ day, her mother asked after Wilhelm, not Felice. And Felice realizes pretty quickly how toxic her mother is but, in the beginning, there wasn’t much she could do but go along with it. But, slowly and surely, she starts breaking away, starting with refusing to wear her mother’s dress and refusing to be Lucia and giving it to Sara, who actually wanted it.

And there’s August’s obvious distaste of his mother’s boyfriend and his rocky relationship with her after his father’s suicide. August is still clearly grieving while his mother seemed to have already moved on. And although this doesn’t excuse August’s actions, it shows his motivation and how strongly he’s holding on to whatever sort of control he can get his hands on: the rowing team, his status in school as prefect, and Wilhelm.

(More under the cut cause this was longer than I anticipated.)

I can’t talk about “Young Royals” without talking about Wilhelm and Simon’s relationship. The way it started because Simon spoke up in class about the unfairness of the law when it comes to welfare scams and tax evasions. Wilhelm’s whole life was probably filled with fake friends, people who only wanted him for his connections or to elevate their own status. In a sea of fake people, Simon was authentic. He never pretended to be anything he was not. And I can see why that must be intriguing to Wilhelm and he pursues him without even realizing it. He’s drawn to Simon and not just ‘cause he’s cute and has the voice of an angel.

And they got the actual way teenagers act when confronted by feelings for a crush. They watch and long from a distance. They shyly try to get close but get overwhelmed at any hint of reciprocation. The careful hesitation at that first kiss. The heartbreak of the possibility that you read the signs wrong. The giddiness of that first relationship. Yes, they do have sex from the get-go but the relationship itself was not sexual — it was innocent, sweet, and full of adoration.

They even have a fairly healthy relationship! They communicate and talk about their feelings. They don’t let things fester. When Wilhelm realizes he’s hurt Simon, he apologizes. And Simon, even if he may not understand Wilhelm’s motivations, tries to do so, anyway. They have so much respect for each other. They had a relationship that stemmed from friendship and trust.  

That’s what makes the eventual reality setting in hit hard. Because we suddenly remember that Wilhelm is no ordinary boy — he’s a prince. He’s in love with a commoner who also happens to be another boy. I don’t know what it’s like to live under a monarchy but I can imagine that even if the actual people they rule don’t care if their crown prince likes boys, the monarchy is still set in their traditional ways.

And these boys, who are experiencing love and a relationship for the first time had theirs marred by the violation of their first time and the expectations of the crown. Not to mention, they’re teenagers! That’s traumatizing for both of them! 

Suffice to say, I’m glad we have this piece of media that, despite it about being about royalty and nobility and rich kids, it’s enjoyable to watch because it’s incredibly relatable and real.

When you see these characters, you see your peers and people you’ve grown up with. You can even see yourself. 

And that, my friends, is why we need a season 2.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b. barnes

chapter thirteen - “sober desires & the reminiscence of a winsome smile”

delicate masterlist

word count: 4k

synopsis: wakanda gets a visit from our favorite captain, two drinks is too much rum for a reticent psychologist, and bucky knows (& feels) more than meets the eye.

pairings: bucky x fem!reader

[A/N]: this took so long to write but WHEW this chapter!!!! pls let me know what you think >:D

The knock on the outside of his hut was followed by a deep accented voice, one that he had heard before.

"Sergeant Barnes?" it called.

Quickly enough Bucky was outside, facing the king of Wakanda himself. He wasn't sure exactly what to say. You see, the majority of their past interactions included the Black Panther trying to kill him. T'Challa was kind and Bucky trusted him. It was just... a little awkward given the history.

"Your highness," he greeted.

He smiled bashfully at the title.

"I have some news for you."

Bucky's head cocked to the side, curious. News? Should he be worried? He hadn't been expecting anything.

"Captain Rogers is on his way here. He was alerted about our recent complication with N'Jadaka," he said, referring to who Bucky guessed was who Y/N called Erik Killmonger, "and he asked to come check in, make sure you're okay."

Steve was coming. His mood was immediately uplifted. He hadn't seen his oldest friend for months. It was weird to have Steve feeling the need to make sure Bucky was okay; it was usually the other way around. Nonetheless, he was excited. And he had the sudden urge to tell Y/N.

- - -

READER

"Sharon. Hey," she said into the phone.

The friends hadn't spoken since Y/N left for Wakanda - security measures since Sharon helped Steve and betrayed the... well everyone.

"Y/N!" Sharon greeted. "How is everything? Are you alright?"

"Yeah, no I'm totally okay. The Killmonger thing was more the royal family's deal than mine. I was just hiding out in some bunker with Barnes."

Concerned weaved its way into Sharon's voice. "Oh my god. Did anything happen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, historically, stress hasn't affected him well..."

She wasn't sure why she almost got offended. "No... he was completely fine. He doesn't lose control out of nowhere and turn into the winter soldier. It's a lot more complicated than that... We were fine."

"Oh, that's good. Listen... I'm actually on my way to Wakanda right now."

"You're-... what?"

"Steve needed to check in on Bucky after Killmonger. Wilson and I are coming too."

They must all be together. It makes sense considering what happened after the disaster in Berlin, and then the airport fiasco in Germany and then... everything in Siberia.

Aw, they're in hiding together, Y/N joked in her head. She almost laughed out loud.

"Oh. Is that safe? For you? For everyone?"

"I've been careful. We've all been careful. But, things don't always go as planned. And T'Challa feels bad about putting you guys in a dangerous situation when he was supposed to protect you."

"It wasn't his fault."

"I know. We all know. But, it's kind of his way of making up for it: letting us stay so that Steve can check in on Barnes and we can cool off for a bit."

"Was Rogers mad?"

"Well, he wasn't thrilled that his best friend was trapped alone in a country that just got taken over..."

He wasn't alone.

"...he was mostly worried," Sharon continued. "Still is."

"Right."

"Alright, well I got to go. We'll be there in a couple hours."

"I'll see you. Be safe."

"See you."

- - -

BUCKY BARNES

"Hey Buck," the happiness in Steve's voice was genuine as he patted his oldest friend on the back in the middle of an embrace. "How you been?"

"A hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you, that's for damn sure," Bucky smiled.

Sam Wilson stood next to the star spangled man with a plan. Bucky briefly glanced at him.

"Wilson," he deadpanned.

"Barnes," he returned the greeting.

"I was worried when T'Challa told me about Killmonger," Steve said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that they let you stay here, but I just didn't think I'd have to be worried so soon."

"It's alright. Everything turned out okay and I was fine the whole time. You don't have to lose your head."

"I'm not losing my head."

"You never had it in the first place."

The blonde changed the topic of conversation.

"You were with that therapist right?"

"Yeah."

"What do we think about her?" he asked with equal parts caution and suspicion. "Do you trust her?"

Bucky wasn't sure why he was almost offended.

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you know what happened the last time you were with a psychiatrist..."

"Yeah well, this one doesn't have a personal vendetta against the Avengers."

"You sure she's alright?"

He looked serious, and Bucky could see the genuine concern etched into his friend's face. Steve was truly wary.

"I'm positive. She's helped so much since I've been here. I really trust her."

"Okay, if you say so. I trust you."

Bucky smirked. "Hey uh... is Sharon with you?"

Sam said nothing but radiated a smirk to match Bucky's perfectly, a kind of smirk that only a ball-busting best friend cracks.

"She is..." Steve replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh nothing. Just wondering, that's all."

"She said she wanted to talk to a friend."

"Oh, she's probably with Y/N."

"Who?"

"Y/N. Dr. Y/L/N. 'The therapist.'"

"I didn't know they were friends."

"Why do you think Sharon recommended her?"

"She said she knew 'the best' person to help."

"That true. She's crazy smart."

"As long as she can do the job, I'm all for it, no matter whose friend she is."

In a short-lived thought, Bucky wondered what Steve Rogers would think of who else Y/N was friends with. He wondered if Steve would think it was strange to be friends with your doctor, or if he'd be pleased that Bucky had gotten close to someone, anyone else in this world.

"How long are you guys staying for?" Bucky asked.

Steve rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "Honestly, we were only planning on staying for like a week or so. We've been moving throughout Europe, and the other day, when we were in Prague... it was almost really bad."

"We need to stay low for a while," Sam added.

"What did you do?" Bucky asked, used to Steve getting himself into trouble.

"It's a long story..."

"What did T'Challa say about it?"

"He said to take as much time as we needed," Steve filled him in.

"You know, I'm startin' to really like this guy," Sam nodded, smiling. "Obviously when he went all cat murderer on you, he was a bit of a pain in the ass. But now? Guardian angel."

Bucky shook his head at Sam's nonsense. What an idiot, he thought. He wondered what Y/N would think of Sam, but then a more pressing question popped into his head.

"Where are you guys gonna stay?"

"I'm guessing there," Steve said pointing behind Bucky.

When he turned around, Bucky was shocked but he also wasn't. Behind and around his hut stood three more just like it, but slightly smaller. He could've sworn those weren't there yesterday, but that's the beauty of Wakanda. They were ten steps ahead of the rest of the world and he guessed that included speed building as well.

"I will never stop loving this place," he admired.

-

He tried not to sound too eager when he knocked on her door. She looked shocked but didn't really try to hide it.

"Oh," she sounded confused. "Hi, Bucky..."

"Hey," he grinned. "I have a proposition for you."

Her eyebrows lowered as her lips twisted into the most devilish smirk. She could communicate an entire joke with just her face.

"Not like that!" he exclaimed.

She laughed, smirk morphing into an endearing smile. "Like what then?"

"Steve wanted to have like a bonfire sorta thing to catch up since we're all together for once. You know, just like drinks and stupid stories from the forties. D'ya think you could part with your paper work to grace us with your presence?"

"Oh, uh... are you sure?"

"Of course. I'd love to have you there."

She wrung out her hands. "I don't know, Buck. Is that really appropriate? To have your doctor hangin' out with your friends?"

"That may be, but that's not what I'm asking. I want my friend to 'hang out' with my other friends."

Out of her composure seeped a meek smile. The air felt softer to him.

"And maybe you can analyze Wilson and tell me what his biggest fear is later," he added.

She snickered.

"Okay. Lead the way, James Buchanan."

-

The fire was a monster, roaring and crackling with all the life in the world. Bucky loved it. He loved the warmth, the heat, the lack of cold.

"I'm gonna get another drink," Y/N said. "You want anything, Buck?"

"I'm all set," he smiled, gaze lingering for only a second too long.

"Sharon?" she turned. "You?"

The blonde shook her head. "Oh, I think I've had plenty."

Surrounding the fire sat five chairs. All but one was empty as Y/N went to get her second drink. Of course they were in Sam's hut, Bucky thought. After all, even though it was Steve's idea, Sam was most excited about the whole thing, actually sitting down and just relaxing instead of fleeing from belligerent governments.

"Therapist's pretty," Sam noted with a smirk once she was out of hearing range.

"Y/N," Bucky corrected, mind going completely elsewhere. "She's so smart."

"Smart enough to call you Buck..." Steve said, catching on to Sam.

"What?"

"She calls you Buck."

"Yeah, so? You do too."

"Yeah, but I've known you longer. And I'm your friend."

"She's my friend too," he shrugged.

"She's your doctor..."

"And I'm a hundred year old man with one arm trying to get un-brainwashed in a country that the rest of the world doesn't even know exists. None of this is conventional."

"...fair," Steve said, with only a little bit of skepticism. "Are you guys close?"

Does spending hours alone talking with someone in a hidden bunker make you close? Does them comforting you after a nightmare and then subsequently allowing you to get the best night sleep you've had in forever? What about making daring voyages to quaint waterfalls and laughing a kind of laugh that makes your heart swell? What about-

"Buck?"

He shrugged. Again. "I guess so."

Sam narrowed his eyebrows. "How close?"

"Wilson," Sharon admonished exasperatedly. "Y/L/N's his doctor, come on. That's inappropriate to suggest."

Sam put his hands up in mock surrender. Briefly, just briefly, Bucky imagined kicking the leg of Sam's chair and watching him fall back. He didn't, obviously. But it would have been funny if he did.

The seemingly never ending conversation was cut short when Y/N returned, drink in hand, and took her seat next to Bucky.

"What'd you get?" he asked, demeanor subtly but swiftly changing into something lighter, something happier.

"I don't know, but it has rum in it," she shrugged sardonically before clinking her glass with Bucky's.

"Cheers," Sam raised his glass, trying to engage.

Y/N wordlessly, and with a half-smile, raised her glass in his direction.

"So," Steve started, comfortably crossing his legs and leaning back into his chair before asking Bucky, "you wanna know what actually happened in Prague?"

"Do enlighten me. I've been waiting all night."

"Jerk."

"Punk."

The rest of the night went on sort of like this. The group took turns telling stories and then listening. Cracking jokes and then laughing. Everyone but Y/N, Bucky noticed. She just... sat and drank, livelihood only extending to the borders of her seat.

He hadn't seen her like this before, and he found himself stuck halfway between confused and worried. Had something happened? Had something wrong been said?

He kept an eye on her as dusk melted into night. He told himself it was because he was concerned, but that was only in addition to the way he was magnetized to how she looked with the light of the fire gleaming on her skin.

After she would finish a drink, she'd stare into the fire for a little while, before leaving to get another. When he made sure no one was looking at him, he'd look at her. Discretely. At her eyes. The reflection of the fire in her pupils made him wonder if she would burn the fire before it could ever burn her. He was all too aware of the heat that accompanied her gaze. It was a ravishing burn that made him ache for the searing feeling as soon as it was taken away.

He didn't dare think of it for too long or else he would get distracted. And someone would call his name, pulling him out of a trance he didn't want to be caught in. A trance he wasn't sure he wanted to admit that he was in.

The night remained as such until someone - he couldn't remember who - said they were tired, and everyone bid their farewells, and wished their good nights.

Y/N spared about a side hug to Sharon before walking off on her own. Bucky half volunteered, half insisted on tending to the fire to make sure it went out, only to ignore it as soon as everyone was gone and follow after his psychologist.

He caught up to her as she was in the middle of opening the door to her living quarters.

"Y/N."

She turned around in the spot, door wide open, staring up at him.

He bore into her eyes, looking at something, noticing her dilated pupils and hazy stare.

"You're drunk," he said, but it sounded more like a question.

"Yeah."

"But you don't seem drunk?"

"I'm not wasted," she padded into the room, carelessly leaving the door wide open for him to walk through. "Just drunk enough to remember why I didn't drink in college."

She rubbed her eyes.

"Think I want another one," she sighed, heading for the door with a bitter smile. "More rum."

Bucky gently closed the door, maneuvering himself in front of it, and blocking her from exiting. Another drink is definitely not a good idea.

He changed the subject. "Why didn't you drink in college?"

Her eyebrows raised, introducing a look that said Really? You think I don't know what you're doing?

"Wow, look at you being the voice of reason for my otherwise inebriated brain."

Nevertheless, she cooperated.

She sighed. "It just... makes me miserable. I'm a sad drunk."

"Better than a mean drunk," he offered.

"Possibly. It's a real mood killer, though."

"That why you were off all night?"

"Off... ? I don't know, I guess so... I'm usually pretty inconspicuous when I'm drunk. Didn't think anyone would really notice."

There was no hesitation when he spoke.

"I did."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be sorry. Just... why did you keep drinking if it only makes you miserable?"

"Alcohol is a depressant," she breathed mechanically, as if speaking was difficult. "It depresses your nervous system, then you get disinhibited. Then you don't care about rationality and just drink! Then in the moment it feels kinda good... but then it makes you sad... and then you need more to blur the feeling away. It's like... the worse you feel, the more you need to drink... but then the more you drink... the worse you feel..."

"How are you drunk but still talking... sorta still like you usually do?"

She smirked, looking like she was trying not to laugh. He was glad she was smiling.

"Maybe you're not the only one with heightened metabolism as a result of the serum..."

He looked at her quizzically, amused. She wasn't making total sense, but he couldn't find it in himself to give much of a damn. She smiled, again.

"Kidding. I just have outstanding self-control."

She plopped down on the floor, deciding that she no longer wanted to use her legs. Fine motor function was overrated for intoxicated people.

He sat down with her, next to her.

"If I tell you a joke will you be less sad-drunk?"

"I already am 'less sad-drunk.' I wasn't before, but," she took a breath in, "now you're here, so... improvements have been made."

"That's good 'cause I was worried before."

She glanced up at him with brazen eye contact. Her face held a mixture of what looked like a confused and pained expression, as something changed. Some sort of realization or reality check.

She wiped her hands over her face. "God, this is so ridiculous. I'm sorry. You shouldn't be worried about me, that's not your job. I'm sorry. I should just go to bed, and you can leave..."

"I know it's not my job. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"I was alright- it... it's not like I was crying at the fire or something. I was fine."

"After your second drink, you were silent almost the entire time."

"You were counting my drinks?"

Not exactly.

"I was paying attention."

"To what?"

To you.

"You completely turned into yourself. Your elbows and legs were drawn in close to your body: unrelaxed and almost apprehensive posture. You were nonverbal, didn't make any jokes, no sarcastic commentary. I was literally purposefully saying things I knew you would correct or tease or laugh at and nothing. I was waiting for a 'smartass' or a 'there's a reason behind everything' explanation or anything science related. But there was nothing."

Her face was blank. It took her a second to catch up. Blinking slowly, she shook her head, eyebrows furrowed, all emphasis on the word. "Why?"

Her tone was truly confused. It was like she, in her heart of hearts, for the life of her, could not believe he was concerned.

"Y/N you're my friend," he chided. "Why wouldn't I be?"

She averted her gaze. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I don't know."

"Look," his voice was soft. "I know you know everything and you know my mannerisms and micro-expressions and you know when I'm lying and whatever else 'cause you're a genius psychologist. But is it really that hard to believe that, after all the time we've known each other, I know you a little too? That I saw you for once instead of you always seein' me?"

"I think you're the only person who sees me."

The words leaked out before he thought to analyze them, tone lower than a whisper.

"Well I can't seem to look at much else."

He had never felt such potent silence. Did he just fuck up majorly? They just sat, on the floor, eyes glued to each other like twenty year old dried cement. He didn't think he could move away if he tried.

"I see you now," she whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"Blue," she breathed. "Your eyes are so blue. I don't... think I've ever seen that shade of blue."

It happened exponentially slowly, but the closer her face got to his, the more his chest felt like it was going to burst in the best way possible. As if liquid light poured into his lungs, inflating his chest and igniting every nerve with adoration.

Her lips hovered over his so lightly it was as if it wasn't even happening, like her affection was a ghost. But it was happening, and he could feel it. He could feel the softness in her lips and the smell of the rum she drank as they combined into the wondrous dual sensation that permeated throughout his brain.

They weren't kissing by any stretch. Their lips were hardly touching. However, in that moment, he was at her mercy. He was prepared to bend the laws of nature to her will if she would allow the continuation of this feeling for even a fraction of a second more.

Until it stopped and she waned away like the moon bidding adieu to the morning sky.

Her voice shook. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't... it's-"

"No. It's not okay. It's not okay."

He leaned back, examining her face. She looked confused and embarrassed and scared.

"Y/N, it's fine. It's okay, seriously, don't worry about it."

"I'm sorry, I'm... I'm drunk and I'm disinhibited and it's affecting my judgement and making me impulsive. I'm sorry."

He couldn't be exactly sure, but it sounded as if she was trying to convince herself more than she was trying to convince him.

Neither of them moved a muscle.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

She was silent, frozen. It reminded him of a past conversation about the fight or flight response.

Bucky stood up and offered his hand to the woman sitting on the floor in front of him. "Here."

She took it gingerly and stood up with him before wide eyes stared into his apologetically.

"Please don't feel bad," he pleaded. "Barely anything happened."

"Still..."

"Why don't you just get some sleep and we can talk tomorrow. I promise it won't seem like such a big deal when you're sober."

She nodded but they both remained motionless, hands still together. He knew they needed to let go, but her hand didn't move, and she just kept looking into him.

"Okay," she whispered.

She walked him to the door, hand still in hand, and until he was forced to let go of her to open it. He stepped, ever so slowly, out of her room and onto the grass outside. He looked up at her, the doorway between them suddenly feeling like worlds of distance. They stood on opposite sides of the open door like statues. Bucky didn't know what to do and he wasn't sure what to say.

He settled on a, "Goodnight."

He tried not to make it sound so weak and timorous but he failed entirely. He didn't want to leave her like this. Guilty and alone. God knows he knew what it felt like.

Her voice was dry and quiet. "Goodnight."

He wasn't sure when the door shut or which one of them had shut it. The only thing he was sure of was the feeling of formidable regret pooling in his stomach.

On one hand, there was regret for letting her lean in and get so close because now he was scared that their dynamic was ruined and worried that Y/N felt awful. On the other hand, there was regret that he just let her pull away. Regret that he didn't lean in more and shamelessly drown in her. Regret that he didn't unapologetically suffocate himself with the softness of lips, the inebriating smell of rum on on her tongue, and the utterly bewitching taste of her he was sure would follow.

He wasn't sure what he felt, to be honest. He was a muddle of emotions of which he had no idea how to sift through. Momentarily, he wished he was drunk so he wouldn't have to think so hard. Then, he remembered the saying, "drunk words are sober thoughts," and he was damn glad he was stone cold sober; he could only imagine the things he would say to her if he was drunk.

This lead him to pondering, it got the gears in his brain turning. It made him wonder. Maybe... just maybe... if drunk words were sober thoughts, then what if drunk actions were sober desires?

Thinking like this could cause him read the situation completely differently. Thinking like this could make him read the situation in such a way that conceived the slightest sliver of hope for emotions gone repressed. Hope is dangerous...

Hope is dangerous, so Bucky shoved it down into the deepest cavern of his brain, the very same cavern where his feelings for her resided. It was a monster in a cave, growling and hissing menacingly. Intensely.

It scared him, this intensity. It scared him so much that the only way he could fall asleep was by thinking about the way James Buchanan sounded when she said it with a winsome smile.

delicate taglist: ​@bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie @strivingforelegance @ilovespideyyy @xpurpleglitter @bluelakeee @darkacademic2 @nickkie1129 @eclipsedplanet @paradisedixon @crazy-beautiful @coffee--writes @lilithknight1111 @buckybarnesishot310 @softladyhours @alwayssandy @quxxnxfhxll @those-sea-green-eyes @hero-ically @devilswaldorf

[domxmarvel]

Consequences

2 year masterlist

Day: 22 Guardian angel Shuri x Female!Reader

The main rule of being a guardian angel is to not intervene,the second was to never reveal yourself. The third and most important rule is to never fall in love with the one you're protecting. You had already broken one,but in a split second broke the other two. Erik leaped trying to attack Shuri,you quickly jumped in front of her. Wrapping your arms around her,you spread your wings blocking him. Or so you thought.

"Y/N you're" She was cut off when you screamed,his claws digging into your wings,staining your feathers with blood.

"As soon as I let go run as fast as you can,got it?" She nodded,pushing her back,you turned around to face Erik. You fought for a while,but you were starting to feel dizzy. You had no idea how much blood you lost,until you slipped on it and finally saw. It didn't feel like much because it was spread out in small pools all over the floor. 

"These wings would've made a beautiful trophy,too bad they're attached to you. Well I guess I just have to rip them out" You tried to get up but he pushed you back down,a chill ran through your body when you felt his claws on your back. Suddenly he stopped talking and fell to the floor. 

“Y/N” 

~~~~~~~~

When you woke up again,you were in a room that you didn’t recognize.You were looking around wildly,when Shuri walked in.

“Hey”She walked in smiling at you,she sat down next to you. You moved to sit up,immediately feeling a sharp pain in your back.

“What happened?”

“Well you lost a lot of blood and passed out,but there’s something else we need to talk about”She paused for a moment,you quickly realized what she wanted to talk about.   

“Oh that”

“Yeah,don’t get me wrong, it was awesome. Your wings are beautiful” She paced around,talking. You moved to stand up,spreading your wings,your feathers had started turning black and falling out. In seconds there was a pile of them on the floor.

“Not for long”

“What! what’s happening?” She ran to you,putting her hands on your arms.

“I broke the three main rules of being a guardian angel” She let go,taking a step back.

“What does that mean? What’s going to happen to you?” 

“Well first my wings are gonna fall out”

“But you’ll get them back?” You sighed,looking away from her.

“No,what doesn’t fall out will burn,along with anything that’s left. It’ll leave two huge scars and they will never grow back”

“Y/N”She put her hand on your cheek “I’m so sorry”

“Don’t be,I knew the consequences and still went through with it. Because I couldn’t let him hurt you” Suddenly she kissed you. “What was that about?”

“Well you did save the princess,so there’s your kiss”

"Maybe I should save you more often"

"Or you could just ask"

[nakedcat]

(Updated)fan fic ideas for Phantom of The Opera

Fan fiction ideas for the phantom of the opera

I just wanted to share these ideas with the amazing writers on here! These ideas are a gift for anyone to use! All I ask is that if you choose to write for one or more of these ideas please let me know so I can read it and give you kudos and a shout out! Thank you!

1: Canon era Erik/Christine Erik has a bad case of the Flu and is very stubborn to even admit it to himself nevertheless to Christine. Things are more complicated for him due to the lack of a nose, the fact that he is so thin from his poor habit of not eating, his habit of hardly sleeping, and a very high fever leading to a delirious state. Naturally for a genius he is an idiot at self preservation and tries to hide it from suspicious Christine as long as possible. He makes himself even worse until she finds out because he is pushing himself to act normal and keep himself busy and distracted with work. He tries to prove to Christine that he is still fine and take care of himself. He fails at this and reluctantly accepts help.

2: Canon era Erik/Christine Erik is sick enough to loose his voice and freaks out

3: Canon or modern era Erik/Christine Erik is sick and gets Christine sick while she takes care of him. Erik freaks out and makes himself worse as he is not yet recovered by going overboard trying to take care of Christine who is trying to play it off until he is better. With Erik now even more sick than he started, Christine embarrassingly asks Raoul for help because they have realized that that are helpless and failing spectacularly.

4: Canon era Erik/Christine Blind Erik Erik starts to rapidly loose his already poor sight and struggles to adjust. Christine offers help and comfort.

5: Canon era Raoul/Christine Christines dear friend and maestro is a dragon shapeshifter. Erik having no family finds this out as a teenager, because of this he also doesn’t realize his ability to lay eggs from his love of Christine alone. Erik has no true gender but prefers being male. Christine notices Erik acting “off” and they realize his situation. She stays during his odd “pregnancy” and birth. Erik is extremely protective toward his eggs from everyone but Christine. Typical Raoul and Erik relationship (dislike). Yes the eggs hatch much to everyone’s surprise!

6: Canon era Erik/Christine Actual angel Erik Erik exchanges his heavenly position as Angel of Music to be with Christine. Erik must pay a price or a sacrifice to do so, given the choice between his voice or beauty his choice is obviously clear. Erik is now mortal and reveals himself and eventually his situation( deformity) to Christine. Erik must now adapt with Christine’s help to human life and all that entails( feelings of love, illness, injury, hunger and eating, sleep and tiredness, human interaction,pain,death) all without a face.

7: Canon era Christine/Erik Erik is a morphine addict He has kept it hidden from Christine until now. Christine finds Erik half dead after a near fatal morphine overdose. After destroying his stash of morphine while Erik is still unconscious and she is confident he will live. Erik is forced to go through a excruciating and embarrassing illness from withdrawal in front of his student and crush who he can’t convince to leave instead of caring for him.

8: Canon or modern era Erik/Christine Cook is something Erik has never been great at, but wanting to impress and do something nice for Christine he gives it another shot. Unfortunately he gives them both food poisoning

9: Canon Erik in modern day Erik/Christine/Raoul

A confused Erik in the wrong time discovers Phantom fan-fiction “Why is it called fan-fiction if it’s not actually a fiction about fans” “After reading this that’s your question?” This one would of course be a short crack fic I’m sure

10: Canon era Erik/Christine In case anyone wants to make a dark version of number 6 Former Angel of Music Erik looses his position as such when he breaks all the rules to enter Christine’s life. He is now condemned to live his life as the Angel of Death. Forced to live a life of darkness his wings turning black and his beauty ripped away, can he still be Christine’s light?

11: Erik/Christine Canon era Blind character/ unhealthy (but real)relationship There is only one thing between their love, his face. He could fix that, at a cost. Not his though, hers. Her sight that’s the cause of this. Without it love can be formed. He would never hurt her, not really it was for her, for both of them. He would make it as painless as possible. She can’t leave now, even if she wanted to. She literally can’t find a way out. He is all she has left, he is the only way she can heal. Is there any love left for him in her heart? There was once, can it be found again? Besides all they need is sound, sight has always been a distraction anyway. All they need is music, their music.

12: Modern day Short crack fic Erik has a podcast! Well you know I’m sure he loves the sound of his own voice and then silence. Just give him any topic and let Erik be Erik, that’s it that’s the plot Yep that’s it! “Wait….you want more? Was that,was I not satisfactory?”

On a similar note complaint department Erik, he would “excel” at that job!

13: Canon or modern era Erik/Christine Erik navigates a life as an opera ghost while dealing with epilepsy especially triggered by stress

14: Erik/Christine Canon era Blind character/self harm Erik could never stand the look of his own face, but after loosing a chance of love with Christine because of it, he can’t risk seeing it even by accident. Sure he already destroyed all his mirrors, but sometimes he still caught a reflection and wearing a mask all the time isn’t always practical. What he wasn’t expecting was Christine to come back, however by then the damage was done. He took his own sight.

(The wonderful MulticoloredRosePetals is currently turning number 10 into a brilliant work,it is as of now a work in progress. Go check it out!)You can find it on here it is titled,” A Song to Cure Silence”! Find it on AO3

It would be great if you could make these multiple chapters long! please if you choose to write for one or more of these, please let me know in the comments, I would love to read your work and give you a shout out! Thanks

[pianomanblaine]

Down Once More

This story was written for the Potober prompts “Down Once More” and “And Now, How You Betray Me”, particularly with the words “taken hostage” and “betrayal” in mind. It resulted in an alternative version of the final lair. Fair warning: this one does not have a happy ending. 

AO3 FFN

He dragged her along the dark and damp corridors beneath the opera house at a frantic pace, his grip on her arm harsh and unrelenting, not even sparing her a backward glance as she stumbled over her own feet trying to keep up with him. Her head was still reeling from the events leading up to this moment. It had all happened so fast, yet here and now, time seemed to lose all meaning. Every separate moment seemed to fade into the next one, forming one big hazy blur. It might have been several hours or merely a few minutes before they reached the shore of the underground lake and Erik was steering the little boat across the water towards his house.

Once inside, he pushed her into the bedroom which she had come to think of as hers, and roughly thrust the wedding dress he had so painstakingly crafted for her into her arms. He did not leave the room, did not even turn around to give her the smallest bit of privacy as he forced her to change into it. He immediately started yanking at the fastenings of the dress she was wearing, undressing her with great urgency, letting the garment pool around her feet, and for a moment she feared that he had gone completely mad and would try to violate her. But he only barked out an order for her to put on the wedding gown as he began to agitatedly pace the floor, only occasionally glancing in her direction while she got dressed again.

When she was finished, Erik retrieved a veil – she did not see where from, he might as well have pulled it out of thin air – and forcefully pushed it onto her head. Under any other circumstances, she might have been able to appreciate how delicate and beautiful it was, with its wreath of white and pale pink flowers that contrasted so nicely against her dark brown hair. It hardly weighed anything, but to Christine it felt incredibly heavy, carrying with it the full weight of Erik’s expectations.

Now that her wedding attire was complete, Erik finally stood still long enough to fully look at her. She wondered if he was happy with what he saw. He must have imagined her in that very dress so many times. Was he satisfied now that he had what he wanted, even knowing that it was against her will? Was it all really worth it?

Before she got the chance to ask him, he turned his back on her and walked away without saying a word. She followed him into the sitting room, where a fire was burning brightly in the hearth, its warm glow a striking contrast to the icy atmosphere in the room.

“So what now?” Christine asked, breaking the tense silence between them. “Are you planning to keep me hostage here, hoping I will suddenly change my mind and agree to marry you after all? Or will you just drag me in front of a priest and threaten me until I say ‘I do’?”

“This is not exactly how I had imagined it to go either, Christine,” he snapped as he stood by the fire with his back turned towards her. “I had a plan, and it would have worked if your precious little Vicomte didn’t have to ruin it all.”

“Raoul was only trying to protect me.”

“And look where his protection got you,” Erik sneered, turning to face her with a grotesque grin on his bare face as he gestured around the room, “in the Phantom’s lair, captured by the madman!”

“I never believed you to be mad, Erik,” she replied, “but I have come to understand how dangerous you can be.”

Christine’s heart twisted painfully as she recalled the early days of their acquaintance, when she still believed he was the Angel of Music. How kind he had always been to her, how gently he had treated her. But that had changed drastically when she learned of his deception and discovered his true identity. He had continued to act as her tutor, coaxing her voice to unknown heights, and although he was never harsh or violent towards her, he had grown defensive and suspicious, always on his guard around her, as if he could not believe that she could still feel any genuine kindness towards him now that she had seen his face.

“Well yes, I suppose I am like a wild animal in that regard. When feeling threatened, I can be extremely dangerous indeed,” Erik agreed. He took a few steps towards her, closing the distance between them, his tall frame towering over her. He seemed to be challenging her, daring her to look at the face of the monster.

“Should I be afraid then?” she asked, rising to the challenge and looking straight into his strange yellow eyes.

At first he merely seemed surprised, maybe even impressed, by her bravery as she stood her ground and faced him without flinching, but by the way his face fell only a moment later, she could tell when the meaning of her words hit him. He turned away as he spoke.

“Of course not. I never meant for you to be scared of me. I never intended you any harm.” He took a few steps back, as if to prove his point, as if he hoped to seem less threatening if he stood a little further away from her.

“Kidnapping me is a strange way of showing it,” Christine huffed.

His posture stiffened at the accusation. “You didn’t exactly leave me much choice, did you?” he said through clenched teeth. “You betrayed me!”

“I betrayed you?” she gasped in disbelief, her hands balling into fists by her sides. “Do you want to talk about betrayal, Erik? Do you want to discuss how you lied to me for years, pretending to be an angel sent by my dead father to watch over me? How you blackmailed the managers into doing your bidding, how you terrorized Carlotta and God knows how many others?”

“Don’t you understand? I did it all for you! Because I love you!” he roared.

“Don’t you dare blame this all on me! You killed two innocent people, Erik! How does that have anything to do with love?”

“Buquet was not innocent,” he snorted. “He was a vile lecher, a pervert preying on young defenceless ballerinas in the dark behind the stage. He got what was coming to him.”

The man was certainly no saint, Erik was right about that and Christine knew it, but how could he not see that that did not justify his murder? Even so, she might have been able to forgive him for it eventually, if it had not been for Piangi.

“Piangi never hurt anyone.”

“Piangi was in the way!” he exclaimed. “I did not mean to kill him, merely to incapacitate him long enough to take his place on the stage, but I ran out of time and I became careless. He was the only thing standing between us and I was not about to let him ruin my plan, no matter the cost.”

“You are delusional if you truly believe he was the only obstacle standing in your way. What did you expect to happen tonight, Erik? You would take Piangi’s place, sing with me in an opera of your own creation in front of a full theatre, and then what? I’d fall into your arms and we’d live happily ever after?” She tore the veil out of her hair in frustration, throwing it at his feet. If he thought that after all the times he had tried to force her hand, had tried to manipulate her into choosing him, she would now willingly become his bride, he was sorely mistaken.

“I cannot deny the truth of that, although it now becomes painfully clear how foolish I was to entertain such hopes.” Although his words seemed to imply that he blamed himself for having such unrealistic expectations, the glare he directed at Christine made it clear that he also faulted her for his disappointment. “I was ready to lay my heart at your feet tonight, Christine, and how did you repay me? By tearing off my mask and revealing my monstrous shame for all of Paris to see! I trusted you!”

His angry shouting turned into a sob of betrayal and despair, and for the briefest of moments, Christine’s anger was overshadowed by compassion for the man in front of her. She was well aware of how badly she must have hurt him by doing what she did, but she had no other options. If she hadn’t done something drastic that would enrage him enough to take action, the gendarmes waiting behind the stage would have closed in on him and captured him, or worse.

Raoul must have thought she was in her dressing room or somewhere else out of earshot as he gave his instructions to shoot Erik when the time came, but she had been too nervous to sit still for long, choosing instead to wander the hallways and eventually finding her way behind the stage, pacing back and forth in the dark as she waited for the inevitable tragedy of the night to unfold. She had heard every word. If she hadn’t acted when she did, Erik might have been dead by now.

“I understand that my actions hurt you too, Erik, truly, I do, but you gave me no choice. Can’t you see it was wrong to pin all your hopes and dreams on me? You’ve told me you love me, and I believe that in your own way you really do, but I cannot be held responsible for your feelings, Erik. I do not owe you anything simply because you love me.”

At the crestfallen, heartbroken look on his face, she almost went to him, almost closed the distance between them and embraced him in a futile attempt to offer him some comfort, a silent apology for having shattered his dreams in a few sentences. Almost. Whatever she had to offer him, it would not be enough now. He would always want what she could not give him.

“I know that I cannot make you love me,” Erik began after a long, heavy silence. “God knows I have tried long enough.” His voice sounded softer now, his bitter and accusatory tone completely gone. “But do you not care for me even a little bit? That could be enough for me. We could start over somewhere new, where no one knows who we are. I could still tutor you and you could still sing.” He was pleading now, with his eyes as well as his words, hoping against all odds that he could still convince her to share her future with him.

“I would expect nothing from you, Christine. I’d do anything to make you happy, I’d give you anything you want. You would only have to ask and it would be yours, and you would not have to do anything in return other than stay by my side. Dammit Christine, I am beyond pride. I’ll fall to my knees and beg if I must. Stay with me. Please.”

And for a moment, Christine was truly tempted to throw caution to the wind and go with him. She did care for him, how could she not? Despite everything, he was still her Angel of Music. She could not deny he had been an integral part of her life since the first moment she met him. Erik had been her sole companion during those terrifying first few years after her father’s passing. Through music he had brought her soul back to life. The connection between them was irrefutable, and she could hardly imagine a world where she would never see him again.

Yet she knew that what he asked of her was impossible. Even if he claimed that he had no expectations from her, she knew that he would never be truly happy until she returned his affections, that he would always continue to hope, and she could not bear to disappoint him. Besides, she already had a fiancé. Raoul. Her childhood sweetheart. Sweet, protective, kind-hearted Raoul, who was probably trying desperately to find a way to save her, even if he had to risk his own life to do so, at this very moment.

Where Erik’s love for her was obsessive and at times almost frightening, being with Raoul would be as easy as breathing. He might not be able to give her a life of music, but she would be safe and cared for. She would not want for anything, and unlike Erik, Raoul was not a wanted man. Choosing a life on the run with Erik over a comfortable and uncomplicated one with Raoul might be romantic, but it would also be foolish.

“I do care for you Erik,” she finally replied, “but I cannot stay.”

He did not try to convince her after that. He merely nodded in resignation, as if he had always known this would be the final outcome.

“Go then,” he said. “You can choose a change of clothes from the wardrobe in your – in the spare room. You would draw too much unwanted attention if you returned dressed the way you are now.”

Christine wondered if that was his true reasoning, or if he simply wanted to keep the wedding dress as a memento to torment himself with.

She obeyed his instructions for the last time, selecting a simple yet elegant dark blue day dress out of the assortment of clothes Erik had kept on hand for her since the first time she had spent the night in his home.

When she re-entered the sitting room to say her final goodbyes, Erik was kneeling on the floor, desperately clutching the veil she had so carelessly discarded earlier, a look of terrible sorrow etched across his distorted face. He brought the fabric to his misshapen nose, trying to inhale the little bit of her perfume that might cling to it.

His eyes flew open and he looked up at her in surprise when he heard her footsteps. He clearly had not expected her to come back.

Erik stood up slowly, wiping invisible dust from his trousers, straightening his jacket, as if after all that had transpired, it was still of the utmost importance that he look presentable to her. Maybe his habit of dressing so nicely was an attempt to compensate for the imperfection of his face, she suddenly realized.

A tentative smile formed on his lips as he watched her, silently waiting for whatever last scrap of kindness she would offer him before stepping out of his life for good. Christine could almost feel her heart breaking as she removed the ring he had thrust on her finger earlier that night, holding it out towards him. The ring was supposed to be a promise, a physical sign that their lives would forever be entwined. It did not feel right to keep it.

Erik’s smile disappeared as he reached for the ring, holding her hand in his for a moment while he looked into her eyes, silently begging her to change her mind. She gave a minute shake of her head before letting go of the ring and withdrawing her hand, a single tear trailing down her cheek.

Christine did not say goodbye, her voice unable to get the word out. She turned around and walked away, forcing herself to set one foot in front of the other until she had reached the door. If she did not leave now, she never would, and she knew she had to.

At the door, she stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder. One last glance at the man who had taught her voice to soar. He was still watching her, and when he noticed her looking at him he nodded once, as if to say: “It’s alright. Go. I understand.”

Trying to keep her tears at bay, she stepped over the threshold and made her way to the jetty, where the boat lay waiting for her. She knew she was making the right decision by leaving. But then why did it feel as if she was leaving a part of her heart behind?

As Christine steered the boat to the other side and removed herself from his life forever, Erik’s almost inhuman scream of loss and despair echoed across the underground lake. It was a sound that would haunt her for the rest of her days.

[plus-size-reader]

Hidden Away

Erik x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2184 words

Warnings: none

Summary: The reader is getting picked on and Erik helps make her feel better.

——————————————————————————————————

Everyone had heard the rumors of the angel of music, the guardian of this place but you had never believed them before.

You had never had any kind of encounter and aside from frightened whispers from the dancers and stories from Madame Giry, you didn’t think you ever would.

In fact, if you had never gotten that letter, you may not have ever learned the truth about this place.

The Opera Populaire had gotten similar letters before, from someone signing as ‘Opera Ghost’ but you had no idea who that was. All you knew was that there was a letter just like it, resting upon your nightstand.

It may have been easier to pass off as a prank, but you didn’t think so. The performers in this place often thought you a joke, and wouldn’t waste their time doing something so elaborate.

Rather, they would just torment you during your rehearsal. You could never have hoped to be a ballerina, though you often wished you could have been.

You just weren’t built for that sort of thing, but what you did have was a voice that not even the most cruel among them could refute.

Madame Giry often said that if you had been built like the other girls were, you would have been the most popular performer the opera would’ve ever had.

You should have known better than to think that living in a place like this would be gentle toward your insecurities. The dancers alone were all in such a physical condition that they were almost always in pain.

...Not to mention, rail thin.

That being said though, you knew that it wasn’t their fault that you weren’t but that didn’t make their cruel comments any less harmful.

Not every one of the ballerinas was nasty to you, or made snide remarks about how pretty you’d be if you weren’t ‘built like that’. It was just that the ones that did sort of took up all your attention.

For example, today, you had been doing your best to perform your rendition of Hannibal that Carlotta was going to be doing tonight at the show.

It was just something you’d been trying to perfect since she began doing it. It was easy to get that song stuck in your head, and as a singer, it was only a matter of time before you attempted it for yourself.

You thought you sounded alright, though not as good as the headliner always did, but right on schedule, Bernadette came round the corner.

She wasn’t the most skilled among the dancers, as she couldn’t hold a candle to Christine or Meg but she was talented for sure. More importantly than all that though, was the fact that she hated you.

Treating you poorly was arguably her favorite thing to do.

“Come now Y/N, there is no use in practicing. They are never going to let you up on stage. I doubt they could even fit you into any of Carlotta’s costumes” she hummed, her thick french accent attacking your senses.

It was a tone you were comfortable with, and if she had been any more kind, it would have even been beautiful but with the way she chose to use it, that all faded away.

Perhaps you could have argued with her or defended yourself some but you knew from experience that it wouldn’t lessen her attack. So, instead, you removed yourself from the situation completely.

Of course, doing so only made her more wicked, a cackle leaving her lips when you left the stage. You didn’t even want to know what she was saying to her friends, but it didn’t matter.

Having heard it or not, it hurt all the same.

You were just so tired of your appearance having anything to do with your talent, as if a couple extra pounds affected your ability to sing.

...And you began to cry.

Luckily, you were far enough away from anyone to know about it, but you couldn’t help yourself even if they were around. It just hurt to never feel good enough, no matter how strong you tried to act.

Sometimes you just had to let it out.

Now, you didn’t know from where you were sitting, curled up in the corner of the room with your head in your hands but there was a witness to the entire thing.

A witness that had been paying attention to you for quite some time.

The opera ghost was the focus of so many people’s attention in the opera currently but the focus of the entity himself...was you.

He couldn’t help himself.

Erik could hear your voice through the walls, even when you were singing alone in your room and by this point, he found himself completely enamored by everything you were.

In some ways, maybe he even found himself developing feelings for you, in his own special way.

In any case, watching those girls speak so cruelly to you filled the man with rage. The only thing that softened that anger was seeing you there, kneeling down with tears in your eyes.

That was enough to stop him in his tracks completely.

That was when he sat down and wrote that letter, requesting that you allow him to meet you in person, provided that you wanted to do so. That way, if he needed to whisk you away in the future, he could do so without alarming you.

Perhaps it was awkward, or strange, but in his defense, Erik had lived most of his life within the walls and dungeon of this place. He wasn’t really the most up to date on social graces.

If nothing else, it was his attempt at not startling you with his presence.

...And thankfully for him, it worked.

You read his letter that next morning, having found it laid gently on your nightstand, stamped perfectly with blood red wax.

It didn’t make any sense, and it seemed rather foolish to answer the calls of some invisible man that you’d never seen before but you couldn't help yourself.

They said that curiosity killed that cat, but in your case, it may have skinned it well first. You didn’t bother to let anyone know you were going, and you didn't care too.

All you knew was when Erik appeared, having pushed through the floor length mirror in your bedroom, you followed him into what could have been another world.

It was both grotesque and beautiful, the dark hallways smelling of musk and soot. You had lived in the dormitories all your life, but you never knew this was hidden just below.

It was clear that this was the most well guarded secret of all that the opera had to offer, and you had to consider yourself lucky to be standing where you were.

Even if maybe you weren’t quite sure why you were doing it.

“What is your name Monsieur? What do you want from me?” you asked, following behind him a quiet tone, having just stepped from the boat.

Where you were now was no more than a built up rock quarry under the opera, but it was decorated as a house would have been. Clearly, he had been living here.

For how long, you had no idea.

Erik didn’t speak at first, doing his best to think this whole thing out before he could ruin it. He had been watching you for so long, dreaming of how you would speak to him, and now that it was here, he was at a loss.

“I hate the way those other little creatures speak of you” he commented finally, not even bothering to introduce himself. It was probably best that you didn’t know who he was right away.

You knew what he was referring to almost immediately, taking it upon yourself to set down on the satin sheet of the bed now. You had no idea how he knew, but he must have been talking about Bernadette.

No one else spoke viley of you more than she did, and if that was why he’d chosen to speak to you, there had to be a reason.

Why would he care?

“She isn’t wrong in what she says, though it hurts” you shrugged, deciding that having someone to talk to was worth all the danger you’d put yourself in to get here.

There were so many unanswered questions but you couldn’t bother with them right now. All you could think about was this strange man, sitting in front of you now.

Half of his face was hidden from your view, those you focused mainly on his crystal blue eyes. They shone even in the darkness of the pit you were sitting in, and you wondered briefly what they would look like in the midmorning sun.

You assumed it would be like staring deep into a sparkling bay at the peak of summer, and that idea delighted you slightly.

“Don’t ever speak like that” he spat, a bit more upset than he meant to. It was just that it was bad enough to have to listen to them make up rude things about you.

The last thing Erik wasn’t was for you to start feeling them yourself.

“Why do you hide away? Why do you hide your face from me now?” you wondered, not letting the slip of his tongue frighten you, though maybe it should have.

For whatever reason, you felt safe here. Frankly, you were more comfortable sitting here, under the watchful gaze of a stranger, than you had ever been anywhere else.

It just didn’t make any sense that he would stay down here when all of Paris was right outside these walls.

“The world would not be kind to me, as it is unkind to you, and I hide from you so that you will not be afraid” he allowed, knowing that you were starting to feel more comfortable in this odd situation.

Had circumstances allowed it, he would have loved to meet you up there, in attendance of one of your shows. He would have loved to hear your voice in all its glory, but what he said was true.

The world had reared its ugly head to Erik before, and he wasn’t willing to go through that again.

“I will not be afraid” you promised, though when the male mentioned it no more, moving instead to talk about what he’d seen last night, you took that as your hint to do the same.

You didn't know this stranger, after all, and you didn't want to go too far.

“Why do you let them treat you so poorly. Surely you must know that you possess more talent than the lot of them combined” He wondered, almost reaching out to take your hand in his own before he stopped himself.

Erik yearned to feel your skin against this own, it was true, but he didn’t want to risk scaring you away before he even really got to know you.

He had to remember that while he felt like he knew you fully, you had only just met him.

It was a strange question, but all things considered, it was probably the most tame thing you had done all day so you answered him. “I can’t dance nearly as well as they can, besides, there is truth to what Bernadette said. I will never be a real opera singer, not the way I am”

There was a sadness in your voice, like you had already accepted it to be the only truth there was, and that was because you had. In your eyes, there was no room for a woman like you, a big woman.

You had heard everything there was.

That if you were to lose weight, you would be on stage every night. That you were wasting time on a dream with no future when you should be looking for a husband. That you would never find a husband unless you stopped eating.

It was never ending, but you had never admitted that to anyone before.

Maybe it was the odd comfort that you found in the presence of this stranger, or maybe it was because you were hidden away from the world, but you had said it out loud.

...And now Erik understood.

You had never understood what a beauty you were because no one would let you be true to it. No one would let you embrace the obvious beauty you had and instead forced it down within you.

They made you think that the problem with the world was you, when in reality, they were making up lies to keep you beneath them.

“You will never say those things again. You will be on stage, a night all to yourself, I’ll make sure of it” Erik decided, and while you had no idea what he was talking about or how that was going to happen, you nodded.

Anything seemed possible, sitting with a handsome stranger in the darkness and even if it was all a lie, you could bask in it for a little while.

[langernameohnebedeutung]

Top five magneto moments from the X-Men movies?

Ohhh...lemme think. (I tried picking from different films. It's not really in any order of preference, just scenes I think are neat.

1. aka the first one. I mean, not the first-first one or the second one or- but the first scene with Charles and Erik being Like That and doing their thing.

There's already at least one pretty popular post about why this scene is so damn good and how it tells us so much about these guys' dynamic without telling us much at all and I just really think it's well-done, well-acted. Especially since in the og movies, Mags and Charles aren't the main-characters so they don't get that much screen-time but this is what we need to know and there is just so much being communicated. I was kind of torn whether to pick this one or the very last one of the film but I chose this one bc I feel like the first one is more about Magneto (we already know he's going to be the villain right here, we learn what motivates him, we get some of the trademark bitchiness Ian McKellen brings to the character. Good stuff. Also when he walks off like: "We're the future, Charles! Not them! They no longer matter!" So much going on here.) while the end-one is more about Professor X. Also, for me the last scene actually elevates this one even further because of the way it makes this exchange frame the entire narrative of the film. You do get the sense that Charles and Erik are two chessplayers moving their pieces with the whole "What are you doing here?" - "Why do you ask questions to which you already know the answers?" and -

Like, you just get the sense that everything that happened between those scenes is just a little bit beneath them. It isn't any major break or change in their lives or relationship, they're the same as before and that also gives you an idea about the kind of history these guys already got to have.

2). Obviously.

Iconic. Show-stopping. Do I even need to say anything? Probably one of my favourite prison-break scenes ever put on screen. Everything about it. The dialogue, the violence, the "never trust a beautiful woman - especially one that's interested in you", the camera movement, the wink, the glass shattering and the cell coming apart, Ian McKellen floating on a metal/blood frisbee. This one has it all. Some physics guy on YouTube actually made a video about how powerful Magneto has to pull this off and apparently, this is a lot more impressive than any of the major property damage we see him cause across films.

3. Ah yes the Villa Gesell scene

Lemme say first: This scene is completely and utterly pointless from a plot-perspective. It's literally just a character moment. And I love character moments. It's just there to show us who Erik is and the film bends over backwards to justify this scene being in it: An entire stack of coincidences that is Shaw's photo hanging on the wall of this pub with the name of his boat clearly visible and he's sitting next to the two Nazis who happen to be sitting in this very pub right there and then and of course one of them has his Nazi knife with him (which is a very weird mixture of a Hitler Youth knife and an SS Honour Dagger and even ignoring that it's a mess bc they even forgot that German capitalises its nouns so why is the inscription all lower case and I'm the most annoying person on the planet to watch movies with but t-)

And the thing is - I actually like this entire scene even more for all of that. Because they could have just had that Swiss banker tell Mags where Shaw is. But instead, his entire trip to Argentinia is in there to let us see Erik kill Nazis and we get an exact sense of what he's doing with his life, who he is, how he is - and also did I mention dead Nazis? - I live for that (and also for a deleted scene where he sees a mother and her kid at the Argentinian airport and has a flashback and 😢).

I also like that it continues the pattern we get in the bank scene where he doesn't confront his targets directly but sets them up to incriminate themselves. We also get the "Frankenstein's Monster"-line which is something I have a lot of thoughts about - especially bc the whole "what makes us human/monsters"-question is a big deal in the movie. Also-also it sets up Charles 'head empty' moment from the finale of the movie where he tells Erik that the people CURRENTLY FIRING FUCKING NUCLEAR MISSILES AT THEM are just 'good innocent men' who are 'just following orders' and you just get the sense of how often Erik has heard this shit (also...thinking about how this film is set in 1962, meaning right after the Eichmann trial). There's just. A lot going on.

4. Oh let's be controversial!

ok I know this is something I know a lot of people hold against Erik and say it's one of his meanest and most unfair moments. but honestly? His anger is at least as earned as Charles' at this point and any take on this scene that is "one of them is right and the other is wrong" is ...boring. Erik once again lost people he cared about, he spent ten years in solitary confinement for a crime he didn't commit, he just learnt that literally everything that he warned about in the last film will happen (already has happened, partially), pretty much word for word ("Identification, that's how it starts. And ends with being rounded up, experimented on, eliminated.) to the point that an actual TIME-TRAVELLER comes back from the fucking future to tell them how bad they all fucked up.

(One of the things I like is that he doesn't make a difference between people who chose his side and people who chose Charles' side - he names Banshee along with Emma, Azazel, Angel. He's just sad about all of them. Generally, I'm still prissy that we never got to see him go full Magneto for any length of time in the prequels so him speaking of 'mutant brothers and sisters' is the closest we get to knowing what he would be like if they didn't always find some new weird between-movies plot for him like prison or starting a family in Poland or starting a leftist commune on an island - although I can kind of respect that one.)

Also anyone who ever had the misfortune of actually hearing me talk about this movie for any lengths of time knows I have...a lot of thoughts about Erik and his time in solitary confinement and I like that the first times we see his powers after he gets out after ten years of no metal, it's a huge mess. Erik as we know him from First Class would probably just wave his hands at those guards in the Pentagon kitchen and kill them with a few well-aimed knives in a blink of an eye - but this time around, he trashes the entire room and hits no one. And in the plane scene we see him lose control completely and almost bring down the plane once he snaps and you really get the sense that after ten years, he's no longer used to having metal around that reacts to his powers.

Also, in that same scene the mutual acknowledgement between him and Logan in the end? I liked that.

5. (almost) all scenes where he's just a giant menace to infrastructure and important landmarks.

Like the fact that he destroyed the Sydney opera house is just such a casual by-note, we don't even talk about that one. It's just how it goes, you know? The only let-down is that he literally went to France without taking down the Eiffel-Tower in DOFP? A giant metal structure? This is a serious oversight by the writers and really cheapens the whole movie-going experience. 2/10.

[flowers-of-io]

@eri-223​ you brought it upon yourself, now I won’t shut up c:

OKAY SO

I can’t really draw neat straight lines between the two, but there’s so much aesthetic similarity to me, particularly with Toland and the Hive-Ascendancy thing. Maybe it’s just me dying for the vibes (or loving POTO in general since I was 9), but it struck me today how Eris/Toland--when it’s made a Working ship--is basically everything Christine/Erik is not. There is so much to be said about Christine/Erik alone, but to me it’s an epitome of why gothic-novel-esque dynamics don’t really work in the long run when they don’t move past being just Gothic and Tragic. And hear me out. A goodhearted, elfin woman at her vulnerable point (grief over father) meets a honey-voiced stranger and has this secret thing with him, this music they share in the dead of night, and it’s intoxicating because music *is* her passion (and something she has deep emotions over in itself, the thing that is most hers in the world) and it’s secret, and a whole other world to what she’s facing in the daytime. The mystery is intriguing, and that’s intoxicating too. And there’s an uncomfortable power imbalance but it doesn’t bother you just yet, because there isn’t really any attraction between the two--not in the romantic-as-in-love sense at least, rather this romantic-as-in-romanticism pull all dark beautiful secret things have.

And here we can shout a fucking thank you at Erik for completely ruining that beauty by being an absolute creep. But Chrissie doesn’t know that yet. And so he leads her deep down into the dark, into his world of darkness and secrecy and yet twisted beauty, and she is living the mystery now, she’s in this nighttime world they would share in secret. And she’s close enough to take a peek behind the mask, something she was so violently curious about and attracted to, a glance into the dark abyss of his soul that is so intriguing. And so she does peek, and what she finds is terrifying rot.

And this, THIS is the best moment of the entire thing to me. This story could be well off without Raoul (whom I deeply love and cherish but he ruins the gothic) because he adds this romantic tension of a love triangle (which I absolutely loathe because ugh. love triangles.) to what could have been a tale of a girl torn between the world of day and night rather than two men who each love her in a different way. There’s so much of Persephone-sque struggle in Christine’s soul that has been shunned by the story imo, and would have made the whole thing better in the long run (and maybe less grossly-abusive on Erik’s part).

So let’s circle back to Toland, another pale, bony, possibly disfigured brunet in a dark coat with a living room full of skulls and candles (the vibes, huh. he probably owned a boat and a horse too). If we take Eris/Toland as starting off before the Hellmouth (I’m really starting to tentatively test my ground on this hhhng), it feels like the same story slightly to the left. Granted, Eris has more agency, but there’s still a huge power imbalance in her and Eriana coming to Toland--an exiled genius|madman with an evil black crow (Guren) perching on his shoulder--and asking him for help, laying their and their team’s lives at his feet - him, who could probably kill them in seventeen different yet equally fancy ways were he more invested! And there is so much darkness here already because how dark it must have been in Eris’ soul to agree on this revenge fantasy, what an abyss Eriana’s eyes must have been hiding; how desperate they must have been to come to him, to even consider this, to choose a possibility of painful, screaming agony in the Hellmouth over the ache they were feeling now. And so there’s vulnerability, too, in a way - because they’re desperate, because they’re hurting, because everything has been taken from them and they have nothing else to do but this ridiculous, mad plan. And oh he can abuse this void, he can make them do whatever he wants and they’d do it gladly, and I have a feeling both Eris and Eriana are aware of that.

And so they work, in secret, cracking secrets of the Hive, tasting the rot of the forbidden fruit, hiding from the daylight with their dark, heretic, nighttime folly. I think there is a threshold at wherever it is they are meeting--be it a room or a house, Eriana’s kitchen or Toland’s disturbing “lab”--in the doorway, between the bright but empty world of patrols and strikes and dead friends and this horrid, twisted, yet fascinating realm of promised vengeance. And I think Eris learns, hungry for secrets, hungry perhaps for Toland’s eyes on her because all dark beautiful secret things have a pull, and she can’t tell if she’s more drunk on the adventure, or the heresy they’re so blatantly committing, or him. And maybe he reciprocates in his own twisted way, maybe they talk or kiss over the parchment pages, and she cannot tell--she cannot tell if his eyes are truly for her or the Hive, the mystery, the thing they’re doing. I’m thinking of what you wrote, how “he wanted Ascendance as badly as she wanted him”. But despite that--or maybe because of it--she allows herself to be led deep down into the dark, into his world of darkness and secrecy and yet twisted beauty, and she is living the mystery now, she’s in this nighttime world they would share in secret. Is it the Hellmouth? Maybe, though I think it’s a process that spans between their secret studies of the Hive and the midst of their descent, when Vell is dead and maybe they’re all doomed, and Toland’s eyes twinkle in the dark and it’s such beautiful madness she cannot help staring. And the checkpoint has come, time to show cards--and she’s close enough to take a peek behind the mask, something she was so violently curious about and attracted to, a glance into the dark abyss of his soul that was so intriguing. And so she does peek, and what she finds is terrifying rot.

I think this is Ir Yut, or maybe a little bit earlier, but nevertheless the bubble bursts and Eris is left in the dark alone and betrayed. That’s of little concern, of course, when the Hive is hunting you down and all you hear is your friends’ dying screams, but it still hurts, it’s still bitter, it’s still so, so wrong. I like to think he comes to teach her then, maybe give her the journals, and it’s a whirlwind of madness and horror and fury and gore, but he’s whatever comfort she can hope for at this point. It’s twisted, it’s awful, it’s dark-gothic rotten, it’s as wrong and horrid as Erik/Christine is as a whole.

But then they’re given the chance Erik/Christine never got. They’re allowed to outgrow the rot. There’s so much dysfunctionality and disturb going on in most gothic-esque “love” stories because it’s not love, it’s attraction taken for a spin and often grossly abused. Love is growth. I like to think of what must have been going on in Eris’ head (and Toland’s too, perhaps, though I doubt he had one at that point) when they were exchanging the letters, the dearest Eris right next to did you watch me carve out each eye; now that she’s wiser, and scarred, and not so stupid anymore--but there’s still that dark pull she can’t help, now even scarier than before that she knows him for what he really is, now that she’s seen the rot. There’s so much hurt to be outgrown, so much betrayal, but she finds he’s yet again whatever comfort she can hope for (that entry *is* called A Light In The Darkness, huh). I could wax poetic about this whole process but I think you captured it so well in STM I don’t have much else to add.

I wanted to throw quotes into it but couldn’t quite fit them into this, uh, essay (which I didn’t absolutely re-read), and I guess Music of the Night would apply here but it’s ripe with uncomfortable sexual tension?? And aside from that (which is in its entirety a trip) just consider these ah

this whole moment

also this

He'll always be there singing songs in my head  Is this Eris in the letters phase? maybe. I performed a vibe check and it showed positive

Wandering Child for how unhealthy-twisted and beautiful it is (ignore Raoul, I have no metaphor for him in this au)

For either way you choose, you cannot win  It’s just a good quote y’all

Farewell my fallen idol and false friend / We had such hopes, and now those hopes are shattered 

Angel of Music, you deceived me / I gave you my mind blindly  (HOW SHE WHISPERS THAT LAST PART IN THE MOVIE OK)

Stranger than you dreamt it  now you’re stranded in the Hellmouth good job

What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn / Beyond the point of no return

The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn

Down that path into darkness deep as hell  but Toland smiles while he sings this

And of course the classic,  And in this labyrinth where night is blind / The Phantom of the Opera is here inside my mind

Wow! I didn’t even get to the Dreaming City! It’s way more vague than the whole Eris/Toland thing because of course ships take up 80% of my brainspace but idk I just find it so incredibly fitting when it comes to paralleling Savathun/Dul Incaru terrorising the Dreaming City with what Erik does to the opera. Like, everybody knows he’s There but no one can do anything about it, he sends vague threats and kills people but nobody can catch him, and the place is just a giant playground for him to have fun and achieve his personal goals in. And whatever the hell is going on in Masquerade, like

Masquerade! Seething shadows breathing lies Masquerade! You can fool any friend who ever knew you Masquerade! Leering satyrs, peering eyes Masquerade! Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you

wow that sure is subtle. Seething shadows breathing lies, huh. Run and hide, but a face will still pursue you :) And then he crashes the party in a fucking Red Death costume. If this doesn’t have huge Dul Incaru/Siren of Riven energy I don’t know what has.

And of course the shitshow only starts when we kill Riven but the seeds have been planted long, long ago. If you listen closely, you can hear Petra screaming in confusion somewhere under box five.

I know most of this second part is a stretch, BUT! this is my au. And for the record, I know there are very mixed feeling about the 2004 POTO movie but to me personally it was a formative experience, first watched on a very crappy TV in music class at the age of 9 and not even in its entirety, but I was already captivated and shaken to the core, and there’s still, after all those years, something that screams at my soul when I hear the first notes.

And, as a treat for those who suffered with me until the end of this essay,

[thephantomessoftheopera]

Notes on Gaston Leroux’s “The Phantom of the Opera” - Chapter 13: “Apollo’s Lyre”

Image of the Apollo statue on the rooftop of the Palais Garnier from Wikimedia Commons

<< Previous Chapter

The chapter “Apollo’s Lyre” constitutes the basis for the “rooftop scene” between Raoul and Christine in the ALW version, but in the book, it is really all about Erik. It’s quite possibly the most important chapter in the novel because we meet our title hero face-to-face for the first time, and because Erik overhearing Christine‘s plan to escape provides a turning-point for the plot.

The symbol of Apollo's Lyre is not only present in the Apollo statue on the highest point of the rooftop (that Erik is supposedly clinging to here), but also adorns the chandelier both in the Palais Garnier and in the original production of the musical.

At the end of the preceding chapter, Raoul had vowed to take Christine away, but she is still at war with herself about the idea. She wants to leave because she is afraid, but at the same time, warns Raoul that he will probably need to force her to leave since she isn’t emotionally ready to let go:

““But if I refuse to go with you when the time comes for you to take me away, you must make me go!” [...] she spoke these words with a forcefulness that seemed to be directed against herself.”

Every time Raoul offers to take her away right then and there, Christine refuses with an excuse of why it’s not possible to leave just now. Yet she is afraid that the next time she goes to Erik, she may never leave again. Erik seems to make her feel very deeply - but too much feeling can be very terrifying, especially if it’s a wild ride on that emotional rollercoaster of ecstasy, horror, pity, despair and passion that he sends her on. It’s no wonder she rationally wants to get out before it consumes her, and yet is afraid of losing it.

While she begins telling Raoul the whole story from her perspective, they repeatedly think they hear sighs, but still remain in the same place. This is a bit odd, considering how they kept running around before, but now, Christine insists that they stay, which is a bit curious. It is possible that she thought they were safe - but considering her general unwillingness to leave, I think it is even possible that she might be subconsciously sabotaging her own escape plan.

When Christine speaks about how she first met Erik, it becomes clear that masquerading as the Angel of Music was not initially Erik‘s idea. When Christine heard Erik in her dressing-room for the first time three months ago, he sang and spoke to her like a real man, except that he had this beautiful angelic voice and was hiding in the passage behind her room, so that he could not be seen. The first person to suggest that he might indeed be the Angel of Music is Mama Valerius, who prompts Christine to ask Erik if he is the Angel her father had sent for her. Erik jumps at the opportunity presented to him and confirms that her assumption is correct, and asks if she will let him teach her. She consents, and together they make amazing progress, developing both Christine’s technique and her inspiration to hitherto unknown heights.

One day, Christine sees Raoul at the Opera, and eagerly tells Erik about it. I bet he bitterly cursed himself then for passing himself off as an Angel, leaving enough space in Christine’s heart for a real man. But his threats to leave cause her to despair and to try to ignore Raoul - also because a marriage to him would be out of her reach anyway. Now it’s Erik’s turn to whine and accuse Christine of being in love with Raoul in the same way we’ve seen Raoul do before. But just like with Raoul, she won’t have that and even challenges Erik that she will ask Raoul to accompany her to Perros. According to her, Erik’s jealous reaction made her realize that she loved Raoul. I wonder if madly jealous Raoul also made her realize that she might possibly be just a little bit in love with two very different men?

Subconsciously, she seems to kind of know already that Erik is not really an angel, because when the chandelier falls, she is half-mad with panic and terribly afraid that it may have killed “the Voice” (and it would be a bit difficult to kill a heavenly being even if you dropped a chandelier on it). She also admits that then, Raoul and Erik were both “the equal halves of her heart” (and I think they still are, beneath all the complications that have arisen in the meantime). She runs to her dressing-room because that is where she is most likely to find “the Voice”, and when she hears the sounds of Erik singing and playing the “Resurrection of Lazarus” on his violin, she follows his voice through the mirror without being able to say how exactly she disappeared through it. She suddenly finds herself being gripped by a man in a black cloak and a full-face mask and tries to fight back, but then faints. When she wakes, she is resting on the ground near a fountain, and Erik is gently tending to her, but doesn’t reply to her questions so as not to give himself away as “the Voice”. Christine recognizes César the horse, and realizes that even though she never believed in the ghost, she had heard the rumours about him stealing the horse.

Erik takes Christine to the house by the lake, first on César’s back (that’s what he needed the horse for, after all) and then in the famous boat (which is rowed in the novel). She is no longer terrified, but feels strangely peaceful - an effect which she attributes to the possibility of having been drugged, even though she admits that at the same time, she was still in full possession of her senses.

“Lake Averne”, the name of the lake under the Opera House, is a play on words as well as meaning. First, “lac averne” is almost the same as “la caverne”, which means “the cavern”. There is also a real lake named “Lago d’Averno” in Italy, and in Roman mythology, that lake is one of the entrances to the Underworld. This fits with the fact that Erik also bears characteristics of Charon, the ferryman to the Underworld, whose name can be literally translated as “with glowing eyes”. The iconic boat ride certainly resembles the passage into the Hades, which is even alluded to in the novel.

The water tank below the Palais Garnier. Image from atlasobscura.com

Let’s stay in the Underworld for a moment. “The Phantom of the Opera” can also be seen as a variation on the story of Hades and Persephone (Christine’s ship in “Love Never Dies” is not called “Persephone” for nothing). Hades, the god of the Underworld, fell in love with the young and beautiful Persephone and wanted to marry her, but as the goddess of spring, she wasn’t willing to abandon the world above and go to live in the Underworld. Therefore Hades abducted her, she finally consented to marry him and became queen of the Underworld. Due to the intervention of her infuriated mother Demeter, it was finally decided that she would divide her time between living on earth for some months every year and living in the Underworld for the rest of the time.

When they arrive, Erik sets a confused Christine down in his brightly lit drawing-room, which has been decorated with an enormous amount of golden baskets full of flowers. It is not quite clear where all the flowers come from, so I guess he bought them all for her. With a salary of 20,000 francs, he could probably afford the luxury of spending so much on flower decorations… He tells her that she is in no danger, as long as she doesn’t touch his mask. When Christine realizes that the Voice is not an angel, she starts crying. Erik then kneels down in front of her and proceeds to tell her without further ado who he is, begs her to forgive him, and lays his heart at her feet. He confesses how much he loves her, and how wrong his actions were, but that he did everything out of love for her. It seems that Erik was rather anxious to reveal the truth that he is not really the Angel of Music and end his deception, but at the same time, was waiting for an opportunity that would allow him to explain everything without the risk of her running away from him forever. Keep in mind that he took on the role of the Angel of Music for just a couple of months, not years as it is commonly assumed.

Christine then stands up to demand her freedom, and is taken aback when he actually concedes it to her, telling her that she is free to leave. But after all, she does not leave because he starts to play the harp and sing for her. The piece he is singing here is the “Canzone del Salice” from Rossini’s “Otello”, in which Desdemona laments the cruelty of love. It is often assumed that the „Otello“ Leroux is referencing here is the more famous “Otello” by Verdi, but that one didn’t premiere until 1887, while the story is definitely set before 1886. Furthermore, Rossini’s version of the “willow song” is the only one that starts with a harp solo. The song is included in the playlist, listen to it here:

https://open.spotify.com/track/25ILZhCIWIRjJVK8SqDWzn?si=U5EPiO_ySBOlIy5XvI1BGw&dl_branch=1

The next morning, Christine awakes on the couch in „her“ bedroom (aka the “Louis-Philippe room”) where Erik must have carried her after she had fallen asleep. When she can‘t get out, she suffers a fit of hysterics, although it seems that she has simply been unable to locate the door set within the wall. Erik has been out shopping for her, which is a rather cute scene when he comes back with all the boxes for her while she yells at him. He calmly tells her to get ready for lunch, and she slams the door in his face so she can take a bath in peace. She places a pair of scissors within reach so that she could kill herself if Erik “stopped behaving like an honourable man”. Her concern is understandable, being alone with the man who is madly in love with her, however it is important to note that Erik never physically forces himself on her throughout the story.

Remarkably, Erik’s house had both hot and cold running water, something that was still very rare then, which suggests that he actually lived in better hygienic conditions than most people at that time, and that he was a skilled engineer.

When she finally joins him, he tells her that she does not need to be afraid, and that all he asks for is that she will spend 5 days with him. After that, he hopes that she will come back to see “poor Erik” from time to time, shedding a few tears beneath his black mask as he speaks. He serves Christine lunch in the drawing-room, consisting of crayfish, chicken wings and Tokay wine, but he himself does again not eat or drink. From their conversation, we learn that Erik has taken on his name “by chance”, whatever that means. The meaning of the name is “sole ruler” which is quite fitting for him.

When Christine has finished eating, Erik invites her to see his room, and she doesn’t hesitate as she instinctively trusts him. Apparently Erik has a very gothic taste as far as room decorating goes, and all this also plays heavily into the death symbolism of his character. Erik sleeping in a coffin is reminiscent of vampire stories, especially because it seems to be a choice and not a necessity. There is also an organ with the score of “Don Juan Triumphant” on it, written in Erik’s customary red ink(?). Erik tells her that he started composing it 20 years ago. Christine asks him to play her something from his “Don Juan”, but Erik refuses because “some music is so formidable that it consumes everyone who approaches it”. It is quite significant that the “sing for me” motif is absent from the novel version, in contrast to the ALW version where it is very strong. Erik, in the novel, has no plans for Christine to sing any of his music. He wants her companionship and her love, and he wants to sing together with her and lose himself in their shared passion for music, but he definitely does not see her as an instrument of sorts. He did help advance her career, but not with the intention of having her perform his work.

Erik makes it clear that his own music is very different from Mozart’s „Don Giovanni“ and from “opera music” in general. “Don Juan Triumphant” can be seen as an allusion to Lord Byron’s epic poem “Don Juan” (in which, incidentally, Don Juan is sold as a slave to the sultana of Constantinople).

He sits down at the piano and starts singing the duet from “Otello” with Christine. There is of course more than one duet in “Otello”, but this one is most likely “Non arrestare il colpo/Notte per me funesta” from Act III (here: https://open.spotify.com/track/151M60b3qxzqKLDFwIVuUB?si=WX4TDWCeQVmIChqd6u7CyQ&dl_branch=1 and here: https://open.spotify.com/track/2Ep1OncGZCNR9yFevG6Pb6?si=QzG2JztuQ42MDoiVrLAaew&dl_branch=1 ) In this scene, Othello accuses Desdemona of betraying him, while she tries to convince him that she is innocent. She realizes that she has fallen victim to Iago’s plot, but Othello does not believe her and stabs her. This opera, for once, is in Italian, while most of the other pieces that appear in the “Phantom” are sung in French.  

The unmasking in the novel happens while Christine is swept up in the passion of her duet with Erik. She “stepped closer to him, attracted and fascinated, enticed by the idea of dying at the center of such passion. But before dying [she] wanted to see his face…”

It’s not like she is sneaking up to him out of pure curiosity, but rather reacting to an instinctive wish to pull away the barrier between them. The scene is even more tragic because with a normal face, the passionate mood that Christine was in would have potentially led to her kissing him. But sadly, his face is anything but normal, so Christine recoils in horror instead. Erik’s reaction to the unmasking is violent and horrific as he goes mad with rage at her, even hurting his own face with her fingernails - an expression of his self-loathing. Throughout the scene, Christine seems fixated on the horror of his face more than his behaviour, though. Ashamed of himself, Erik crawls out of the room and shuts himself up in his bedroom.

“Apollo’s Lyre” by Annie Stegg Gerard

Erik’s appearance as described in the novel is indeed bordering the realm of the fantastic and supernatural. He is so stuffed with death symbolism that it is hard to take everything literally. Christine’s description makes it rather hard to see him as “real” because he seems to look like something straight out of a nightmare.

It is important to note that Erik is not just run-of-the-mill ugly, but that he is very clearly associated with death in many ways - from sleeping in a coffin and having funeral-style decor in his room to actually looking like a „living corpse“. Erik and Christine can be seen as a literal expression of the artistic topos „death and the maiden“, which especially towards the end of the 19th century associated death very strongly with the erotic (see https://eclecticlight.co/2020/01/05/paintings-for-our-time-death-and-the-maiden/ for a very good overview of the motif). Death here is usually represented as either a skeleton or corpse, or as an angel - which is very much in line with Leroux’s Erik.

”Girl and Death” by Edvard Munch

Combined with the fact that Erik‘s music creates feelings of passion, rapture and ecstasy in Christine, it is not a big stretch to conclude that Erik is associated not only with death, but also with sexuality. The duality of sex as both a life-creating and life-threatening force was acutely perceived by the people of that period. Love and death are connected, and both are represented in Erik‘s character. ALW‘s musical adaptation recognized this strongly erotic undercurrent in the story and translated it very aptly into songs such as „Music of the night“ or „Point of no return“. The way in which Christine describes her lessons with Erik - that they “awakened an ardent, voracious, and sublime life” in her, and made her live in a “kind of ecstatic dream” can also be interpreted as her romantic awakening, with all the frightening emotional chaos attached to it.

Raoul, on the other hand, is more associated with purity and propriety - which is reflected in how he views Christine, and the standards that she must conform to in his opinion.

Before seeing Erik’s face, Christine admits that she *would* have come back, but that now, she would never return because “you don’t go back into a grave with a corpse that loves you”. Note how she switches from the first person to the impersonal “you” in this sentence - “you” might not do that, but we already know she did in fact go back more than once. And she is still able to see something of the angel in him because he does not take advantage of the situation, but leaves her alone, turning to his music again.

And then, “music has the power to abolish everything in the outside world except its sounds, which go straight to the heart”. Erik starts playing the finale of “Don Juan Triumphant” where “ugliness, lifted on the wings of love, had dared to look beauty in the face”. Through the music, Christine can glimpse into the depths of Erik’s heart and soul, feel his torment and suffering, and is overwhelmed with compassion.

Once again, she is the one to tear down the wall between them. She pushes open the door to Erik’s room and asks him to show his face, sincerely thinking that she can handle it - but it turns out, she really isn’t quite able to when there’s no music between them. But she manages to put on a brave facade and lie to him about being able to look at him without horror. She despises herself for her lies, but then she also does what she must in order to be set free. Erik takes her for walks along the shore of the underground lake, and for carriage rides to the Bois de Boulogne (that’s where they ran into Raoul in Chapter 9). After two weeks, Erik finally trusts her so much that he is willing to set her free (with conditions, of course). It’s really heartbreaking when she mentions how he dared to try to make her look at him even when he wasn’t singing, like a “timid dog”. At this point, he is in her power just as much as she is in his.

When she finally leaves, she is moved more by his tears than by his threats, and his pain is what gets her to come back in the first place: “Those sobs attached me to him more strongly than I thought when I said good-bye to him.” Part of why she is afraid to leave is that she fears it will kill him if she leaves him.

At the end of the chapter, Raoul asks the fateful question that sums up the tragedy of Erik and Christine:

“You’re afraid, but do you love me? If Erik were handsome, would you love me?” “Why tempt fate, Raoul? Why ask about things that I keep hidden at the back of my mind, like sins?”

Christine’s reply along the lines of “Don‘t ask” was cut from the de Mattos translation. It clearly evidences that Christine has conflicted feelings for Erik that go beyond only horror or pity, and that she prefers to suppress them so she doesn't have to deal with them. The statement also shows that if Erik had not been cursed with his face, then things might have looked very different for him and Christine. Attentive readers of de Mattos might nevertheless notice that her next line „If I did not love you, I would not give you my lips“ evades addressing the „what ifs“ Raoul posed, but it still makes her appear less conflicted than she really is. Christine’s heart is a pretty deep ocean of secrets, and at the back of her mind, there seem to be quite a few things that she is unwilling to admit to herself, as Raoul suspected before:

“You obviously love him, and your fear, your terror - all that is still love, of the most exciting kind! The kind you don’t admit to yourself.”

I haven‘t really counted, but this must be like the fifth time that Raoul insists on his suspicion that Christine is in love with Erik, and he just can‘t get a „no“ out of her. That “no” is given very directly though when he asks her if she hates him. She kisses Raoul to prove that she loves him, at the same time telling him that the kiss is just a one-time thing („for the first and last time“). Then “the night is torn apart”, and the last thing they see is a pair of glowing eyes looking down on them from Apollo’s lyre - which are clearly Erik’s, who has overheard the entire conversation…

Image from wikipedia

Next chapter >>

[bluebellhairpin]

Homecoming

Erik Lehnsherr X Mutant!Reader 

A/N: I’m hungry for Erik. I love him. He could impale me with a stop sign and I wouldn’t even mind. So have this long fic that no one asked for! (Also, Reader channels a much healthier path to a Erik ‘Everyone I Love Dies’ Lehnsherr-type situation in this fic. Go Reader.) - Nemo 

Warning(s): Angst. Ugly crying (from me, not the characters). General X-Men antics and Mutant problems. Mentions of Character Death. 

Summary: After the events of Apocalypse, both you and Erik get back something you thought you’d never get to have again. A friend. Maybe even a home.  

Masterlist  

You first came to Charles’ school damaged and broken. 

Like many mutants of your time you were shunned by the world, and hunted by the people in it. You were seen as different, in a time where different was bad. The Difference was dangerous. If you had no way to hide your mutation, you didn’t go into the open. 

Luckily, your mutation wasn’t a physical one, not unless you wanted it to be. 

In a way you were a shapeshifter, a mimic, even if you could only do so with other mutations. 

If you saw someone with wings, you could grow a pair that looked identical. If you saw someone make plants grow, you could too. The only thing was you couldn’t do them both at once. That coupled with an unfortunate circumstance became your undoing. 

The unfortunate circumstance was being caught by one Bolivar Trask.

By the time you managed to get away from him, you’d wished he’d killed you like he had with all those other mutants he got his grubby fingers on. 

You’d reached the streets, aching all over, and feeling as vulnerable as ever. You knew no one, and you had nowhere to go. So you added ‘hopeless’ onto your list of feelings for your first night back in the world.

That morning you found out not all the humans in the world wanted mutants dead. 

Even though he said he was only human, you were convinced he was just being modest - he was surely an angel. He was so kind, taking care of you until you could fend for yourself, and eventually you grew strong enough to be able to protect him too. Him and the little girl you’d brought into the world. 

But you were wrong.

While you were not the same woman you were before Trask had you, you still could only mimic one mutation at a time. Remembering back, you were so confused. It happened so fast. You didn’t know if it was you or the men who found you, but you did know that both him and your girl were dead. You also knew it was easier to blame yourself. It was easier to run.

So you ran. 

Years later, your running lead you to a school - housing a couple dozen other mutants, mostly teenagers - and that’s where you stopped running. 

__________

“Charles, you sure you don’t need any sunscreen?” your lips quirked up, eyeing the seated professor out the corner of your eye.

He didn’t look too impressed.

“(y/n), don’t start now.”

“Or a hat?” you asked, striding over to his side as you leant down and ran a hand over his - now very bald - head. “Don’t want you getting sunburn.”

“I ought to snap those sunglasses right off your face (y/n).” he quipped, swatting your hand away. He was acting all sour about it, but that glint in his eye definitely didn’t make his smile less convincing. 

“Just the sunglasses?” a new voice piqued, followed soon by the voice’s owner sliding over to Charles’ other side, “If it were me you’d be threatening my livelihood instead of some accessory.” 

“I’m special.” you said, sticking your nose up at Erik. 

“You can say that again.”

“Oh quit mumbling Erik.” Charles said, rolling back into the rebuilt mansion - and out of the sun - queuing the both of you to follow close behind. “You could do something useful with those words of yours, like (y/n) does.”

“Teaching isn’t for me Charles.”

“Oh,” you said, looking over at Erik over your glasses, “And inchoherit sentences are?” 

Erik reached over, sliding the glasses right off your nose, before snapping them shut and placing them in your shirt pocket.

“I think you should learn to keep your trap shut.” he said, coming to a stop beside Charles - who was patiently waiting for you both to quit bickering so the two of them could go visit Raven and Hank in the ‘basement’.

“I doubt that.” you said, grabbing your glasses and popping them back on your face before walking off to supervise some students back outside. “Have fun with the kiddies, kiddos.” 

“Well done Erik,” Charles said, turning back towards the way to the Danger Room, “You’ve just met and she already likes you.”

“That was her liking me?” Erik said, unamused as ever. “I’d hate to see how she acts towards people she doesn’t like.” 

“Surprisingly pleasant. If I had to guess it’s so they leave faster.” 

__________

You didn’t see Erik again for months. 

Charles told you he didn’t want to stick around, and honestly from what you’d seen and heard of him he didn’t seem like the kind of man to stay in once place for no reason. When you did see him again he was back at the school, despite his somewhat dislike for being there. 

He was standing in the open front door, dripping wet from the rain outside, and looked like he was not going to move from that spot until he dried off. Luckily you were there to save him. 

“The hell are you doing?” you asked, running a hand through your messed hair as you made your way down the stairs.

“Making Charles’ floor all wet at some ungodly hour of the morning?” he offered, wiping stray drops of water off his face and onto the floor.

“Don’t make more of a mess Erik.” you said, “Just get to the kitchen and try not to make more mess. I’ll grab towels and some other stuff for you.”

By the time you grabbed an armful of towels and a change of dry clothes, Erik was awkwardly standing in the corner of the kitchen closest to the fridge. He was standing like he just realised how uncomfortable wet clothes are, with his arms held out from his body and his legs apart. 

He noticed you as soon as you came around into the doorway, and held his arms out for one of the towels. You threw one over his head instead, while maneuvering around to peel his jacket off. You could safely assume it was a heavy jacket to begin with, but it being so waterlogged made you wonder how he was even still standing with it on.

“What’re those?” Erik asked, nodding his head to the pile of clothes you left on the counter.

“Clothes. Dry ones.” you said, folding the jacket at arms length and hanging it over the sink. “For you.” He went over to inspect them, holding the shirt in front of him, before bringing it to his chest.

“These are not your clothes.” You looked up at him, and he looked over at you. You just nodded.

“You’re right. Get dry and change.” you said. “I’ll go get Charles.” 

__________

Erik hung around for a while after that. And by ‘a while’, this time that meant a number of days. 

You’d pass in the hallways, or he’d walk past your classroom door. You’d meet each other outside during breaks, or back in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning when the world was still sleeping. Not much transpired between you both except small talk. It was never heavy stuff. 

At least not until some rather unsavory people came to the school.

They didn’t stay for long - thankfully - and with not only your help but that of Erik and a couple older resident mutants, those that wanted to hurt you were scared off. That was the first time Erik saw exactly what your mutation was. What exactly it meant.

The people came armed, a small group of mutants that didn’t seem to like what Charles was doing. They would ‘set free’ all the children he’d ‘taken’ and put them ‘back into the world’. As if they’d survive that long without hating themselves. 

The mutants had elemental-like powers, one with the ability to produce ice shards, while another could breathe fire, another could take hold of the plants that surrounded the school, and the last caused the sky to darken and the earth below you to rumble like you’d never heard before.

And then there was your team - your X-Men - ready to fight them, even though half of you had woken up less than five minutes ago.

Erik couldn’t believe what he saw - what you could do. 

There was the ice mutant, conjuring pointed icicles out of nowhere and throwing them at your team, and yet you were right up there - toe to toe with them, matching their deadly projectiles with your own, posing as much of a threat to them as they were to you. 

And as soon as rock and metal joined play, even more followed, you trading weapons the size of your hand to ones that make cars look like a childrens toy. 

All because of you, half of the team didn’t even need to batter and eye at these ill-intended visitors. And those ‘visitors’ decided to leave, whimpering with the promise to not come back - at least not until they thought they were stronger. 

In short, Erik was impressed. 

__________

“You know, I don’t usually let others join me up here.” you said, feeling Erik make his way to the rooftop behind you, “It’s my space.”

“Your’s now, maybe. But I’m sure there are at least half a dozen students who come here for the same thing.” he replied, coming to rest next to you, his legs dangling off the rooftop to mirror your own.  

“I don’t blame them.” 

It was true. While there wasn’t much to see from the roof of the school, on nights like this there was plenty to see. The sunset was disappearing under the horizon, painting the sky with a bright orange and pale lavender, leaving space for the stars to come out to play. It was beautiful.

“I’m leaving soon,” he spoke, voice soft and his eyes not meeting yours, “An island called Genosha. You’d be welcome to come with me, or even just to drop in for a holiday.” 

You cracked a smile at that. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” he said, looking at you, smiling. 

“Sounds like it could be a home away from home.” You bumped your shoulder with his, keeping something pleasant even though he was leaving. Even though this was him saying goodbye.

“For you,” he said, eye twinkling, “(y/n) I’d make it nothing less than home.”