#with an emphasis on him being hers

[darthstitch]

I've always wondered how the story would work out if a young Christine Daae meets Erik as the Opera Ghost, NOT as the Angel of Music.

This is a kid who's grown up on fairy tales. She should know that the first rule is always to be kind. Kindness and courtesy and respect can be a surprisingly effective defense against the scariest creatures. Christine is all of these things by nature, except when curiousity gets the better of her.

But that's for a different story and in a different universe. Over here, Christine gets to meet the infamous Phantom of the Opera as a young girl, just beginning to leave her childhood behind, just still enough of a child to believe.

So maybe when she accidentally runs into a tall, dark, forbidding figure with his elegant gentleman's clothes and opera cloak and white mask, she doesn't scream or run or faint.

Maybe she drops him a cute little curtsy, wobbling a little because unlike her best friend Meg, she's not a born ballerina. Maybe she warbles a little greeting, "Good day to you, Monsieur Opera Ghost."

And maybe that's how it starts.

Erik makes friends with this adorable little girl who doesn't scream at the sight of him. He's utterly charmed by her and she's the first person, in a good long while, who gets to learrn that the Opera Ghost isn't really a ghost.

He gives her his name.

(Ironically, Le Fantôme forgets what the old tales speak of when it comes to the giving of names.)

Maybe the two of them end up making mischief together, the Phantom and his petite fantôme, pulling off ingenious pranks and silly, harmless tricks. Maybe Christine starts adding to the ever growing store of Opera Ghost tales, with all these gloriously lurid details that she manages to relay with an absolutely straight face.

Erik, in his usual hiding places in the Opera House, is hard set not to give the game away by helplessly chortling at his petite fantôme's imagination. At one point, one storytelling session is broken up by the little ballet and chorus girls screaming in delighted terror because Erik couldn't stop himself from laughing.

(He had to throw his voice for that, so he wouldn't give away where he was hiding.)

Christine grows up, of course, and Erik doesn't develop the weird crazed obssessiveness that grew out of a desperate love - this is not that universe. For him, she's his dear petite fantôme - a friend, who, against all odds, isn't going to be ripped away from him through some tragic twist of fate.

(He has so very few of them, you see. Sometimes, he's not even sure if THEY think of him as a friend. Opera ghosts can't be choosers, though.)

Things start changing, maybe, when Christine is nineteen and she's starting to dream about being more than just singing in the chorus. Erik is only too delighted to have nurtured the development of her original sweet childish treble to the glorious instrument that it was now. They've often sung together, the two of them - her high sweet ethereal voice chasing after his own resonant tones, blending in harmony.

(One of their favorite pranks was to sing haunting melodies in a near-empty theater, simultaneously scaring the life out of the skeleton crew working at night.)

Some things are meant to happen, no matter what the universe, and Christine Daae steps in as an unlikely substitute for the temperamental La Carlotta. She brings Paris to its feet with her rendition of Elissa in Hannibal.

Christine gets asked, of course, how on earth did she suddenly bring out That Voice,

She only smiles. "I was taught, of course, by my Angel of Music. Who else?" Mischief and mystery are dancing in those blue eyes.

There's a funny little lurch in Erik's heart at the way she says "my Angel of Music."

He hasn't a clue why.

[willothewispwisteriadawn]

Until Dawn vs Until Dawn Remake

From one of my old Reddit posts— what do you make of the changes to the hour glass lineup? Original on top, remake on bottom.

[khaosssss]

snowrifle animatic!!!1!1!! :))

small ramble about them in tagz,,

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Asunder

slow-paced high fantasy

a woman who has a contract with an eldritch entity allowing her to see the dead & survives by taking various jobs

when a job searching for stranded smugglers in a cave goes wrong, she ends up with the soul of a dying stranger bound to her shadow

along with a scholar and her old childhood friend, they travel to his home country to find a way to unbind him and save them both

dark fantasy world with gods, demonic entities, arcane magic, and semi-sentient beasts used as transport

[bennetsbonnet]

Another day, another major media outlet feeding into the general public's misunderstanding of Mr Darcy's character. Today it's this beaut from Sky News:

*Deep sigh* ... I'm tired.

To start with, the question posed beneath the headline is ridiculous. The short answer to wondering whether younger readers would only pick up Pride and Prejudice if it had a 'sexier rewrite' is no. The long answer is HELL NO. The longest answer, I do not currently possess the energy to construct... but, in short: so much of the enduring, cross-generation appeal of the story is the repressed emotions and those consequent moments when characters are pushed to their limits and forced to express them. The novel is not inherently lacking because Jane Austen couldn't write about such a subject; even if she could, sex really isn't a chief concern of the story, nor what makes it appealing.

Pride and Prejudice is a comedy of manners.

It is not a romance. There are romantic elements, yes, but above all, it is a deeply funny book packed with far more witty than romantic dialogue.

Anyway, back to the article. The headline is a quote taken from an interview with an author who, I assume, shoved Jane Austen into their title in order to shift a few more copies:

Nichi Hodgson - whose book The Curious History Of Dating: From Jane Austen To Tinder compares Regency romance to now - understands how the "rituals of the era" can sometimes be "a stumbling block for people that want to read the stories". "But if you do read the books it really is about the emotions and characters," she insists. "Mr Darcy… at the beginning, he's kind of a bad lad. The key tenants of the connection… wanting to kiss all night, you know, that's still appealing to people."

Bad lad. BAD LAD?! Clunky phrasing aside, who on earth are you describing?! because it certainly isn't Mr Darcy...

Mr Darcy is not 'bad,' not even at the beginning. He is rude, proud and arrogant; yes, he is thought of as the 'proudest, most disagreeable man in the world,' by those gathered at the Meryton assembly, but that is a biased description of him (which he absolutely deserves) based on the opinion of the people he has just met and immediately offended.

But he is not bad. Jane Austen would never have made such a man one of her heroes. Such men exist in her novels, of course, with Wickham as the example in Pride and Prejudice... but he is depicted as being unworthy of our heroine (and instead ends up with her most ill-mannered sister under far from proper circumstances).

In fact, a large part of Mr Darcy's appeal is that he is everything Wickham is not. He never alters in fundamentals, he is shown to have always been a thoroughly decent man, just one who—thanks to his pride—never gave a good account of himself and consequently prejudiced people against him.

How do we know that our hero is good and this kindness is what makes our heroine fall for him?

Well, perhaps the greatest turning point in Elizabeth's sentiment stowards Mr Darcy—aside from his letter—is when she hears the housekeeper's testimony of him at Pemberley in Chapter 43:

[Mrs Reynolds] dwelt with energy on [Mr Darcy's] many merits as they proceeded together up the great staircase. 'He is the best landlord, and the best master,' said she, 'that ever lived; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but will give him a good name. Some people call him proud; but I am sure I never saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only because he does not rattle away like other young men.' 'In what an amiable light does this place him!' thought Elizabeth.

And, upon seeing the portrait of Mr Darcy, Mrs Reynolds's words allow Elizabeth to finally view Mr Darcy in an objective manner and she realises that she has been too hasty in judging him so harshly:

The commendation bestowed on him by Mrs. Reynolds was of no trifling nature. What praise is more valuable than the praise of an intelligent servant? As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how many people’s happiness were in his guardianship!—how much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow!—how much of good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by the housekeeper was favourable to his character, and as she stood before the canvas on which he was represented, and fixed his eyes upon herself, she thought of his regard with a deeper sentiment of gratitude than it had ever raised before; she remembered its warmth, and softened its impropriety of expression.

What a brute!! Doesn't Mr Darcy just sound like the worst man on earth?! But I guess Elizabeth liked a bad boy after all... that's why she was so repulsed by Wickham! He was clearly the morally superior character...🙄

Suffice to say, I will not be checking out that book. All this article really did—apart from irritate me immensely on a Sunday morning—was show me that there might be an interpretation of Mr Darcy that I loathe even more than 'he was just shy/anxious🥺!!'

I'll end with this quote from Elizabeth describing, to her father, the 'bad lad' she has fallen for:

'I do, I do like him,' she replied, with tears in her eyes, 'I love him. Indeed he has no improper pride. He is perfectly amiable. You do not know what he really is; then pray do not pain me by speaking of him in such terms.'

[arodykeism]

but i'm not supposed to scratch

[j2zara]

I know j2 is the pinnacle of Eurydice coded and Porter is hades Jace is Persephone etc etc but I do kinda think that earnest j3j4 is a little bit Eurydice and Orpheus coded… which way? Who is to say

[darthstitch]

Of Fairy Tales and True Names

by Darth Stitch

Little Christine Daae first met the Opera Ghost on what was, of course, a dark and stormy winter night.

The ballet rats had thought to amuse themselves at first by telling ghost stories, which Christine enjoyed, though she tried to look appropriately frightened, since it was quite clear that the corps de ballet wanted the newcomer to be scared silly and Christine thought it would be best not to disappoint.

The storytelling session soon dissolved into a "ghost-hunting" session and the group dispersed all throughout the opera house, no doubt intending to jump and squeal and scream at every shadow and imagined bump or footstep.

Christine was not planning to catch herself a ghost. She was tired and she was missing her father with that familiar, aching grief that would not go away even though it had already been months since he'd been laid to rest. She thought that she would go into the chapel and pray a little and if she shed a few tears, then no one would see.

No one needed to know anyway.

She had not counted on hearing someone playing the violin.

Oh, how she had missed those familiar sounds, bringing them with fond memories of her father playing, with all his heart and soul in every note. She crept quietly into the chapel, utterly entranced - even the melody itself was one of those haunting, mournful songs that Papa favored, perfect for this dreary day.

She didn't realize that she had closed her eyes in bliss until she heard, "I see I have an audience."

That voice. Unearthly beautiful in tone and timbre - her eyes flew open to see him looming over her - a tall, elegant figure in the black evening suit favored by gentlemen attending the opera - and the white half mask.

Oh dear.

Well, perhaps the Opera Ghost was not possessed of a flaming skull and hellfire eyes after all.

Christine grew up on fairy tales, of course, and she was also a musician's daughter, so she knew the only proper response.

She clapped, as loudly as she dared. "Bravo, monsieur. Bravo!"

The pale, almost bloodless lips curved into a smile. "An appreciative audience at that."

She nodded, shyly. "The song. It is one of my favorites."

"Oh?"

"Papa used to play it for me all the time." A beat. And then, Christine, greatly daring, added: "You play almost as well as he does."

"Almost as well as your Papa, hmm? A very high compliment indeed, mademoiselle."

She curtsied, wobbling a little bit, but managing to stay on her feet. "It's Christine. Christine Daae. It is very nice to make your acquaintance, Monsieur le Fantôme."

"And here I thought I ought to say 'boo' at this point." A melodramatic sigh, perfectly timed. Amusement danced in those mismatched eyes, one brown, the other blue. "I am afraid I left the flames and the blood and the disembodied hands at home, little mademoiselle."

"I would rather hear you play again, Monsieur." Christine dimpled. Strangely enough, she wanted to see him smile again, keep that amused look on his face - at least, what she could see of it with the mask. "We could always have the flaming skull for your next performance."

He laughed and the sound sent her heart beating double time, for some reason. "Erik."

"Monsieur?"

"Since Mademoiselle Christine was good enough to provide me with her name and request an encore, then you may have my name. It is Erik." He raised the violin. "Does Mademoiselle Christine have any preference?"

"Whatever Monsieur Erik pleases." Erik. It suited him somehow. In that moment, she forgot her weariness and that almost perpetual sadness in her heart. She just settled down on the wooden pew, ready to listen to the Opera Ghost play his violin.

And no, this was not a tale she would share with the other ballet rats. Christine knew her fairy tales. If she wanted to see him again, this was a secret that was best kept close to her heart.

- end -

Footnotes:

a. Erik was not sure what happened, but somehow, instead of managing to scare the wits out of this tiny little girl with the lovely amethyst eyes, he made a new friend. It was a rather novel feeling.

b. He had no idea why the daroga ended up crying with laughter after he relayed this story. At some point, Erik gave up and muttered some choice words about having consciences with the oddest sense of humor.

c. He was quite relieved to find out that little Christine was in the care of the most excellent Madame Giry.

d. No, he did not initially plan to involve Christine in that prank against that insufferable new mezzo soprano who turned up her dainty nose against the ballet rats and seemed to think that they were there to fetch and carry for her. But then, Mademoiselle Aubert called poor little Meg Giry "a wretched little brat who danced like a limping duck" and made her cry. So it was rather satisfying to see Mademoiselle Aubert run screaming from her dressing room, claiming to hear the disembodied voices of ghostly little girls and sinister laughter.

e. It was quite fun to have a little ghost apprentice helping him haunt his Opera House. Christine was a rather apt pupil.

[cuteniaarts]

2 hour rough drawing of Ehuang, my precious Green Opal child who I don’t draw nearly enough <3

[widowshill]

thinking about how roger is the one to undo the last knot and let her go in the original scripts.

[wrathevil]

You know what I think I've figured it out. Personally do not care what pronouns your Suns uses, but like.. maybe do the same for the others? Where's she/her Pebbles? Where's he/him Moon? NSH everything pronouns? And like, I wanna see at least one she/they suns okay.

[tobluesunday]

Yes finding homeless orphans about to be murdered and saving them just so that they owe you their lives and must repay that debt by joining your terrorist organisation is the same as becoming an adoptive father

[moomeecore]

the only pheaseble explanation i have for the new eps is that they had an entirley different writing team for the rest of the show. then they just last minute brought on different people for just these two episodes and only had them watch the other eps of fionna & cake, and then told them to create an ending based soley on that. and gave them a terrible, very short deadline.

[pencilofawesomeness]

Pspsps

May I request some Febuwhump information? :>

Hiiii Jidden

You didn't specify so I'll throw you two of your OS babies <3

(As far as general information go, I managed to complete 15/28 before February whooooo it's looking good folks)

Day 13: “I don't trust anyone else” [SORANO]

“Piri,” the twin beings chirped, swimming in the air around her head. They were true angelic beings—unaffected by gravity, arcane and powerful, immortal and indestructible. Inhuman. Perfect. Mini brushed a small hand against her forehead and they danced around her. Like granting her a blessing, the gesture gave her a much-needed push to her focus. As the months went by, they were perfectly the same as they ever were, except they learned about her faster than she learned about them. Perhaps Angel could be something more than her feeble birthright with the endorsement of such wonderful beings. “Thank you,” she said, flipping her bangs out of her eyes to see where Gemi pointed. They found her mark before she could—a fact that did not surprise her in the least. Gemini surpassed this plane of reality; they only graced it with their presence because of the magic of celestial spirit mages. Her magic, thus, allowed her to touch pieces of heaven and keep them for herself, for however short of time. A blessing. Truly, a blessing.

Day 16: Eaten Alive [ERIK]

If Erik had known that the monster plaguing this idiot farming town would take one look at him and fucking swallow him whole, then he would have stayed home. This very much wasn’t worth it. At all. He could recognize (if he were being charitable, which he wasn’t) that this was partially his fault. When Erik found the giant snake-like basilisk, he had correctly guessed that it wasn’t being particularly aggressive, in that moment; he just failed to see how hungry it was until it was too late. Embarrassing of him, really. As much as Erik didn’t like to dwell on his mistakes, that proved easier than letting the discomfiting horror of being lodged in an esophagus settle in.

[darthstitch]

My Roman Empire will forever be Christine and Erik performing together, on stage.

Look, Christine has sung with her maestro before, okay? In practice, in their music lessons, in just the simple pleasure of singing and making music together.

But.

She wants Erik to be on stage with her. She wants everyone to see what she sees, past the mask and the mangled ruin of his face, gods, if she could, she would take his lasso and throttle the woman who had first made him hate himself so much. Her Erik deserves the world at his feet and so much more.

Even now, she treasures the tender look in his eyes when she calls him hers, and the swift press of his lips to the palm of her hand, sending that familiar and welcome thrill down her spine.

The stage of the Opera Populaire is empty save for the two of them, the seats below covered in cloth, awaiting the next performance.

"Sing with me, Erik, please?" She asks, letting mischief take hold of her.

"What, right here, right now?" There's amusement in his tone and Christine knows she has him. Just a little bit more...

"Yes! For what is La Daae without her leading man, her other half? She refuses to sing without him!" It's her best impression of La Carlotta which never fails to make Erik laugh, that adorable chortle that turns her Phantom back into the endearing little boy he should have been.

"As my diva commands, then."

Their voices soar in joyful harmony then, lost in each other, an enchanted little world of their own making.

It is a masterful performance they think is unwitnessed by anyone else.

Except for a couple of stagehands transfixed by the sight of Monsieur le Fantome and his lady, utterly enthralled by their song.

And one Raoul de Chagny, whose heart shatters into pieces.

[reikunrei]

finished reading house of leaves (minus the exhibits and appendices) and now i’m just sitting here staring at the ending like. st5 come home.